FROM SAMSON TO THE DEATH OF SAUL

I.

SAMSON AND ELI.

TOWARDS the close of the wild and stormy period of the Judges, the Philistines were the most active and aggressive nation of Palestine. Strong in their military organization; fierce in their warlike spirit, and rich by their position and commercial instincts, they even threatened the ancient supremacy of the Phoenicians of the north. Their cities were the restless centres of every form of activity. Ashdod and Gaza, as the keys of Egypt, commanded the carrying trade to and from the Nile, and formed the great depots for its imports and exports. All the cities, moreover, traded in slaves with Edom and Southern Arabia, and their commerce in other directions nourished so greatly as to gain for the people at large the name of Canaanite—which was synonymous with merchant. Their skill as smiths and armourers was noted; the strength of their cities attests their success as builders; and their idols, and golden mice and emerods, show them to have been proficient in the gentle arts of peace.

But they were pre-eminently devoted to war, alike by sea and land. Egypt had been recently invaded by their fleet, and, soon after, apparently while Jephthah was struggling with Ammon on the uplands of Gilead, their ships, sweeping from the harbours of Gaza and Askelon, had attacked Sidon—the great Phoenician city in the north—defeated its fleet, and taken the town, which henceforth sank into insignificance. Its aristocracy, indeed, had to flee to Tyre, and even that city was ere long extended to an island close at hand, to be more secure from these terrible sea kings. Sidon, henceforth, lost its rank of capital, and disappeared from notice for several centuries; its fall doubtless causing unspeakable joy in northern Israel, which could breathe freely when its great oppressor was thus humbled.

This clever, fierce race are represented on the Egyptian monuments as a beardless people, wearing a peculiar kind of cap or tiara, and it is thought by some scholars that they belonged to the same Mongolian stock as the Hittites. This, possibly, explains the fact that the Assyrians called the Philistine town Ashdod, “a city of the Hittites”, and it may be, incidentally, more probable from the existence at the present day of two villages on the Philistine plain, called, respectively, Hatta and Kefr Hatta, which seem names preserving that of the Hittites.

It is now at least twenty centuries, however, since the name of the Philistines as a distinct people has passed away, though the race, no doubt, still survives in a more or less mixed form, in the local peasantry of today. Their five cities, once so terrible to Israel, though still surviving, except Gath, are mere phantoms of their former selves. They were situated on the coast plain, below Joppa, but there is now hardly a trace of ancient remains, though there is much that speaks of Roman or Crusading times. Ekron, now Akir, is the most northerly, but is only a mud hamlet on a swell of sandy soil, with a few so-called gardens, inside rude bonders of prickly pear. A few dry cisterns, stones of hand-mills, two marble pillars, lying prostrate, and a stone wine-press are all left of the once famous site of the Temple of Beelzebub. Ashdod, now Esdud, is a village of mud huts, with a few stone houses, and lies on a low swell of half-consolidated sand. A height somewhat more imposing rises close to it, formerly the site of a castle, but now covered with gardens fenced with prickly pear, which grows in one part over the remains of an ancient wall of dressed stone. The drift sand from the shore, two and a half miles off, has blown almost to the village, some of the gardens being already overwhelmed, while the olives and figs in others stand in pits of sand; the owners vainly fighting with the desolating progress of their enemy. Askelon still boasts the remains of its mediaeval walls and towers, but here, too, the sand is burying everything beyond these, and making a steep bank even inside. Where the city once stood there are rich gardens, plentifully watered by springs, the tanks of which speak of Roman or Crusading splendour. Deep below the soil lie the marbles of ancient palaces—columns, carved stones, statues; many columns and stones dug up lying ready to be carried off, when I was there, to burn for lime or build into some modern structure. Round the town, outside the ruins of the walls, originally built on a semi-circular ridge, sixty or seventy feet high, but now buried on both sides by a steep slope of yellow sand, there is only desolation, above which, here and there, you may still see the tops of figs, and olives, buried under the sandy sea. Gath is believed to have stood on the isolated hill known as Tell es Safieh, which rises nearly seven hundred feet above the plain near the mouth of the great valley of Elah—the chief pass to the uplands in ancient times. There is a village on a plateau on the hill, three hundred feet up, but it is a very poor place; the whole hill is of white limestone. On the top of the hill once stood the Crusaders’ castle— Blanche Garde—built in A.D. 1144, as a protection against attacks from Askelon.

Gaza is a collection of wretched mud huts within mud walls, with a few old stone houses, including some public buildings, for the town is the capital of Southern Palestine. It stands on a low hill with great gardens, within mud walls or fences of prickly pear. Its streets are mere lanes, deep in dust or mud, according to the weather. A grand old church now serves as a Mosque, and a spot is shown where the Temple of Dagon stood, and where Samson pulled down the building on himself and the Philistine lords.

As far back as the time of Shamgar—a hundred and fifty years before—Dan and Judah had suffered from the raids of Philistine bands, who climbed to their mountain valleys, to spoil them; and, indeed, the forced emigration of so many of the former may have been caused by these. But a regular conquest of the whole country was not attempted till the days of Samson, about three hundred and fifty years after the death of Joshua.

On the edge of the hill country, about twenty miles almost straight behind Ashdod, on a slope overhanging the north side of the green Wady Surar—the ancient Sorek—the village of Zorah nestled among its vines and fig trees, oppo­site Beth-shemesh. The district lies 2,000 feet above the sea, and is known as the ‘Arkub’ or ridge—a long spur from the mountains, with numerous smaller ridges branch­ing from it; the two valleys of Sorek and Elah lying in their northern and southern folds. The former, half a mile broad, is filled in summer with luxuriant corn, through which winds a pebbly torrent bed in the centre; low white hills bounding both sides. The ruins of Beth-shemesh— ‘the House of the Sun’—lie on a knoll surrounded by olive groves, where Sorek and Elah join; on the south of Sorek is Timnath; and Zorah and Eshtaol, now small mud villages, dot its north face. Sweeping down the slopes of the Shephelah, towards the Philistine plain, the broad corn valley is fair to see, whether from the high-perched home of Samson, or from the lowlands; opening as it does, in the one case, on the rich land of the plain, about eight and a half miles below Joppa, and in the other, closing with a background of high and rugged hills, through which it winds upwards, and on, for no less than forty-four miles.

Looking down from these heights, at their western end, towards the sea, there is beneath you a tumble of low hills, here and there rough with stunted brush-wood, but dotted thinly with villages, and clumps of olives. Beyond these and beneath them is the broad Maritime Plain, rough in parts with sandy uplands, but, as a whole, offering a broad, fertile bosom to the plough. Patches of grain or of lentiles checker it in the summer, but later in the year it is a wide rolling sea of brown tilth, which might bear a hundred times what is raised from it. It is in its glory, however, in the spring, when bright with the fresh green of early crops, or parti-coloured with sheets of flowers, only too brief in their loveliness.

Here, at Zorah, lived one of the few households still faithful to Jehovah amidst the ever-growing apostasy of the times, and in it was born a son, destined from his infancy to arrest the thoughts of those around, and lead them to contrast the present and the past. Before his birth his mother had not been allowed to taste wine or strong drink, or to eat anything unclean, and the same prohibition was imposed from the first on the child, with the addition, that his hair should at no time be touched by scissors or razor. Nor was he allowed even to eat the grape, or any of its productions, or to approach a dead body, though that of his nearest relation. He was, in fact, a Nazarite—“one consecrated” to God; in this case, for his whole life.

Such a vow of separation had been provided for in the Mosaic laws; but no earlier instance is recorded of its being carried out. The distinction of clean and unclean acts had also been made for centuries, but the whole Levitical system must have fallen into abeyance during the isolation, disturbance, anarchy, and idolatry that had reigned more or less since Joshua’s death. Wherever the child appeared he would, thus, be a living reproof to the people; reminding them at once of their duties and their neglect. As he grew up, moreover, it was found that this dedication to Jehovah brought with it endowments which secured what Israel, for centuries, had sighed to gain—such a resistless force and vigour, as was, in itself, a pledge of national independence, if, by a similar course, it was obtained by numbers. “The Spirit of Jehovah”, which had clothed Jephthah with courage and resolution, showed itself in young Samson, by giving him prodigious strength and a fearlessness that never quailed. What if Israel, by returning to the worship of God, gained, as a people, the possession of gifts so invaluable in their present state? The religious revival under Samuel, himself a Nazarite from his birth, may well have had its first impulse from the stories of the hero of Dan; so mighty because dedicated to Jehovah, and still alive within a few years of the great prophet’s birth. His influence, indeed, can only be realized aright, by remembering the condition to which the Hebrews were reduced in his day. The Philistines had brought even the great tribe of Judah to such abject submission, that, instead of aiding the hero, who was daring all for national independence, it meanly betrayed him. No such enemies had endangered Israel since the Oppression in Egypt. Aided by their slaves, the remains of the aboriginal races living in their cities, they climbed the passes at their will, and harried the valleys, carrying off not only the harvest when ripe, but even men, women, and children, to slavery. As Porsena in later times prohibited the use of iron by the Romans, except for ploughs, to keep them down, and as Israel had been treated in the earlier days of Deborah, by the northern Canaanites, the Philistines to secure the permanence of their conquest had moreover not only disarmed the Hebrews, but had even required that no smith among them should ply his trade, if, indeed, they had not carried off all workers in iron as slaves, to toil for them, in their cities, and had thus made it necessary to go down to one of these for even the slightest repairs of an agricultural implement; a policy so effective that the country was kept by it in virtual slavery for over a hundred years. It was due to Samson that resistance was kept up at all, under such circumstances. His example rekindled the national spirit and bravery, so that, in after years, however oppressed, they constantly made new attempts to shake off the yoke of the hated uncircumcised alien. The unequal combat was kept up with a grand tenacity, through successive generations, amidst frequent defeats, from the days of Eli to those of David, “the breaker of the Philistine's horn”. During that long interval, even when the Hebrews were at their lowest, and forced to hide in caves and clefts of the rocks, or to flee beyond Jordan, single heroes, like Saul and Jonathan, fired by the stories of the past, rose amidst their unarmed brethren, sword in hand, to strike once more for freedom. The long domination of the Philistines was, indeed, thanks to Samson in a special degree, the heroic age of Israel. Men would not despair, but trusted more and more that, in the end, Jehovah would aid them. It was the time when independence and the free enjoyment of their institutions were won by God’s help, through the brave struggles of the people and of single patriots. Later ages looked back with pride on the days when their valiant ancestors went out against the giant Avites who scorned Israel—against Goliath, and Ishbi-benob, with his terrible spear, and Saph, and a huge warrior with twenty-four fingers and toes. Stirring tales of the deeds of these heroes doubtless roused the souls of each new generation, and were recorded by chroniclers proud to tell such stories of patriotic glory. Unfortunately, however, they are all long ago lost, and we have only short notices, evidently quoted from fuller writings.

In this roll-call of noble spirits, but surpassing them all in his splendid deeds, Samson assuredly stood first. Endowed with extraordinary strength, he undertook, alone, to resist the oppressor, when Israel had submitted to the yoke. At no time had he any aid beyond such a band as he could gather from his own neighbourhood. Indifference, or want of spirit, or fear, left him unsupported by even a single tribe. His very name marks his work, and the terror and pride he raised in foe and friend, for it means “The Destroyer”—not, as has been fancied by some, “The Sunny” or “The Sun-hero”. His various deeds are too well known to need detailed enumeration. One thought animates him in all alike—undying hatred to the enemy of Jehovah and His people. In this aspect he is truly a heroic servant of God. The tasks such a title implies are very different at different times, and in the days of Samson lay supremely in resisting the “uncircumcised”. It is in this sense only, indeed, that we are to think of the Divine Spirit and power urging him on, irresistibly, to his mighty acts, “springing on him”, or “driving” him, as if with a push which he could not withstand.

The incidents recorded of this Jewish Hercules are in keeping with his surpassing physical vigour. Unconscious of fear, he moves in radiant cheerfulness in the midst of dangers which would appal ordinary men. He delights in the play of humour, often simple as that of a child; sometimes terribly grim. He must have his riddles like others, at his wearisome seven days’ marriage feast. His revenge for the loss of his wife by setting the jackals, with burning fire-brands behind them, into the standing corn, is a boisterous practical joke; and his irrepressible light-heartedness beams out in schemes to snare his enemies by repeatedly submitting to bonds of ropes or withes, which he knew he could snap in a moment, when they had lured his foes within reach. Even in his death he is still the same. Called out from his prison, in his blindness, to play the clown before the great folk of the Philistines, he sings, dances, and acts the buffoon amidst roars of laughter, and when he has laid their suspicions asleep, prays that Jehovah may strengthen him only this once that he may by one blow avenge himself for his two eyes.

The allusions in the whole story vividly illustrate the exact correspondence of the Scripture narrative, even in details, to local truth. The presence of lions in Palestine in ancient times, especially in the south part of it, where a village in Judah bore the name of “Lebaoth”—the lionesses—is undoubted. There are many names for the lion in Hebrew; and it not only supplied the imagery of Psalmists and Prophets, but lingered on till the time of the Crusades, and is mentioned by historians of the twelfth century, as found near Samaria. That a swarm of bees should have hived in the dead carcass of the one slain by Samson would be natural in Palestine, however strange to our notions. The dry, hot climate, anticipating putrefaction, would in a few hours evaporate all the moisture of the body, and turn it into a mummy; while the ants would presently eat away all the flesh, leaving only the skeleton and the skin, and thus hollow out the creature to a shell, admirably fitted for a hive. That bees should have swarmed in such a home is, in fact, no more strange than that wrens or sparrows should build, as they have been known to do, in the dried body of a crow or hawk, in England. That Samson should be able to catch three hundred jackals, as the word really means, is, moreover, not at all surprising, for these animals hunt in large packs, and are still very numerous in Southern Palestine. To tear up the gates of a town may seem an incredible feat, but Samson’s achievement at Gaza required only his lifting them off the pin on which they turned; for hinges are made in the East in two separate pieces—a pin and a socket. As to his pulling down the house in which the Philistine lords were gathered, we have only to think of it as resembling in structure not a few Eastern dwellings, to understand how this could be effected. “I have often”, says Mr. Shaw, “seen numbers of people on the roof of the Dey’s palace at Algiers, diverting themselves with performances carried on in the open courtyard below. The roof, like many others, had an advanced cloister over against the gate of the palace, like a large pent-house, supported by one or two contiguous pillars in the front, or in the centre. Here, likewise, they have their public entertainments, as the lords and others of the Philistines had in the house of Dagon, and hence, if that structure were like this, the pulling down the front or centre pillars which supported it, would at once be attended with the like catastrophe that happened to the Philistines”.

Samson was the last of the twelve Judges mentioned in the book of that name. The Philistines had been strengthened some time before his birth by new immigrations of these races from Crete, and were thus able to seize and hold the hill country as well as their own fertile sea-coast plains; retaining their power more or less fully for perhaps a hundred years, till at last themselves finally broken and subdued by David in the eleventh century before Christ. The resistance to their strongly organized power was necessarily only a series of isolated and partial outbreaks, on a small scale, in Samson’s day, before Samuel had drawn together into a measure of national union the scattered and unsym­pathetic communities of the various central and southern tribes. That Samson especially is commemorated for his heroic patriotism was, no doubt, due to the fact of his home being on the edge of the Philistine country, the daily sight of which must have roused his soul, conscious of special physical gifts bestowed on him, as he no doubt felt, to be used for the cause of his nation. The story of his life is very briefly given. The child of a long unfruitful marriage and a Nazarite from his birth, he grew up amidst the laments of his people over the Philistine oppression which had crushed them for a generation. To win back independence was clearly for the time impossible, but, as the lad grew to manhood, he felt he could at least rouse the self-respect of his nation, and rekindle its spirit, which had been well-nigh extinguished. His first great deed sprang, as so many do in our early manhood, from love. A Philistine maiden, whom he had seen while he was living in “the camp of Dan”, between Zorah and Eshtaol, one village apparently very near the other, had caught his fancy, and to get her he went with his parents, who had to manage the matter for him, to Timnath, down on the opposite side of the valley, west of Beth-shemesh, but within sight of his own village, nestling high above.

On his way he tore open the jaws of the lion, in whose dried-up body a swarm of bees was afterwards found by him, on his second journey to wed the young Philistine girl. The bees and the honey supply material for a riddle at the marriage feast, a very humble affair, no doubt, but it is betrayed to the company by his wife, from whom, as from other women he loved, he could keep nothing while under their spell. To pay the loss by his riddle being thus solved, he gains the required apparel promised by stripping their clothes from thirty Philistines whom he kills at Askelon—our Ascalon—a fierce enough return for his bride’s treachery, to be explained, perhaps, by her being withheld from him and given to one whom he had employed as his “friend”, or, we might say, his matrimonial agent. From this time the plot grows wilder. Furious, still, at his treatment, he collects a mob of jackals and lets them loose among the standing crops of the Philistines, with a firebrand at the tail of each; burning down all the grain, far and near. On this the Philistines, in their rage, burnt down the bride’s house, with both her and her father in it. A furious attack on the assailants, by Samson, followed; so many falling that the brave man had to flee to Etham, and hide himself in a cleft of the rock which rose beside it.

This retreat seems to have been a rocky swell, near Surar, Zorah, now called Atab, the eagle’s nest. It stands up from amidst ravines, through which trickle springs, and is bare of all soil, while it contains a long, narrow cavern in which any one could conceal himself. Indeed, it is even now called “The Refuge”, and justifies the name by being two hundred and fifty feet long, eighteen wide, and from five to eight feet high, with a chasm ten feet deep at one end, while the other end is under the village itself. Tracked hither by the Philistines, and meanly given up by the villagers, he tore asunder the withes with which he was bound, and then, turning on his enemies, slew a thousand of them. Water, which he sorely needed after such a struggle, was supplied him from a spring which he found in the rock, known from its shape as Lehi, “the jaw-bone”, a coincidence which has erroneously led to the idea that the water was made to flow from the jaw-bone of an ass, which, we are told, was his only weapon, and which he threw away at this place. Gaza, far in the south, is the next scene of his exploits, and, once more, it is a woman, through passion for whom he falls into danger. Watched by the Philistines, the town gates are shut, that he may be caught, but he lifts them up from their sockets and carries them, as tradition says, to the north of the town, but, as Judges records, to the hill near Hebron, which is more than forty miles from Gaza, up a pass which, from painful experience, I know to be very rough, steep, and exhausting; the climb in all, from the low-lying Gaza, being over three thousand feet. A third time, however, a Philistine woman brings him into trouble—Delilah. Infatuated with her, he allows her to betray him to his enemies, her countrymen, once and again, confident in his power to deliver himself; but, at last, when she worms out of him the secret of his Nazarite vow, and the sacredness of his unshorn hair, and cuts his great locks while he is asleep, he wakes powerless and is taken by the Philistines, blinded, and set to do a woman-slave’s work, in turning a hand-mill as he sat on the ground—the very superlative of humiliation. Then the catastrophe of the Temple of Dagon closes the strange, eventful story.

The moral decay of Israel in these times is darkly intimated by an incident recorded of the second generation after Moses. A long period of quiet had followed the defeat of the King of Elam, whose name, Chushan Rishathaim, has been supposed by Hitzig to mean the circular sword, or “Talar”, bearer; an etymology which possibly receives illustration from the use of the quoit by the Sikhs, in former times, as the national weapon. Sharp as razors, they could be thrown with deadly precision, and such force as to cut off a man’s head in a moment, and were so much cherished that even now an ornamental quoit is fixed in front of the head-dress of the Sikh regiments, as they go out to battle.

During this time of external peace, an incident, followed by momentous consequences, happened in the town of Gibeah, of the tribe of Benjamin, formerly believed to have stood about a mile north of Jerusalem, but of late thought rather to have been on the hill called Tell el Ful, rising twenty-seven hundred and fifty feet above the sea, between two and three miles west of Anathoth, the home of Jeremiah, and thus not far from Jerusalem. The surface round its base is flat, but from this level it swells up in a cone, the top of which shows a mound which originally formed an artificial platform, to which rough steps lead up. It is visible from the Holy City, and may have been used as a fire beacon in ancient times. Here there had been committed an outrage, recalling the worst guilt of Sodom, on the concubine of a Levite who chanced to be lodging in the place for a night. It was a violation of the sacred rights of hospitality, as well as an act of unequalled grossness, but it was bitterly revenged. In his wild indignation, the husband forthwith cut the body of his murdered wife into twelve pieces, and sent the bleeding witnesses of his wrong through the whole land. A storm of indignation followed, culminating in a great assembly of the tribes at Mizpeh, “the watch-tower”; a height apparently identical with the lofty hill now called Neby Samwil, about four miles north of Jerusalem. It towers over the whole district and is seen from all points, so that no place could be so fitted for a watch-tower. Mizpeh may have been the name of a village on this hill, many remains of an ancient village or town yet remaining on it. You can ride to the top, twenty-nine hundred and thirty-five feet above the sea, through a series of olive yards, barley patches, and gardens, within rough stone walls, or prickly-pear hedges. A mosque with a slender minaret, once a church of the Crusaders, crowns it, surrounded by olive trees, amidst which are many ancient cut stones and remains of walls. The view from it, often, no doubt, enjoyed by Sam­uel, is magnificent, though now revealing wild desolation more plentifully than the signs of a busy population. Wild excitement filled the tribes gathered on this great centre when they heard the Levite’s story, and a summons was presently sent to Benjamin, to deliver up the offenders, that they might be put to death, and evil thus “put away from Israel”, but it was treated with contempt. Furious at the rejection of their demand, indignant also at the crime, and, moreover, alarmed lest, if it were not punished, Divine ven­geance might strike the whole race, war was now declared on the offenders. But the bravery of the Benjamites and their skill in fighting gave them at first an advantage even against the overwhelming odds of the eleven tribes, who were “knit together as one man” against them. There is a strange mixture of fierceness and religious feeling in the narrative. Counsel is sought from God, through the stern Phinehas, then high priest, so early in the history of the nation was the crime, and three times Israel is launched against the petty tribe, strong in their hearts, and in the defences of their hills. The host weeps, prays, fasts, and offers burnt offerings and peace offerings after two successive defeats, and then turns once more, with greater skill, to the relentless attack. Stratagem at last succeeds where direct force had hitherto failed. Benjamin, allured from the hill­top by a pretended flight, finds, ere long, the town behind it, in flames, and sees itself hemmed in on every side by multitudes. In the terrible struggle that followed the tribe was almost exterminated : only 600 men surviving out of nearly 27,000. These saved themselves by flight to the crag of Kimmon, “the pomegranate”, now the rock Rammon, beside a village of the same name, east of Bethel. This village sits conspicuously at the end of a narrow ridge, on the west side of which the rock is very steep, with caves on its south side. It can be approached only from the north; deep ravines trending off on the other sides. The Benjamites must have had a wide look-out from the top of the rock, especially to the south, while to the east they looked down on a confusion of deep gorges and great precipices, as the hills sank down to the Jordan. Here they maintained themselves for four months, dreading to descend from their height of vantage.

Remorse at such terrible vengeance now, however, seized the eleven tribes. Their national feeling was wounded at the thought that they had well-nigh blotted out one of the divisions of the people, and their only care was to undo the evil as far as possible. The whole of the women and maidens of Benjamin had been ruthlessly killed : the towns and hamlets burnt, and the very cattle and flocks slaughtered, as devoted by a curse to destruction. No wives remained for the remnant of the men. Still worse, all Israel had bound themselves, under a curse, not to give one of their daughters in marriage to them. Gathering again, therefore, at Shiloh, the people abode before “the house of God till even, and lifted up their voices and wept sore” at the thought that henceforth one of the tribes would be blotted out. But the very sternness of their former mood at last brought a remedy.

A “great oath” had been made by the former assembly, devoting to death any who failed to come up to the common help, to Mizpeh, and it was now found that the men of Jabesh Gilead had failed to attend the rendezvous. The town is on the east of the Jordan, six miles south of the future Pella, on the top of one of the green hills of Gilead, overlooking the rich Wady Jabis, which still preserves its ancient name, and runs down into the Jordan valley, a few miles below Bethshean, its hollow beautiful with straggling olives, patches of barley, and rich pasture. An expedition was now launched against them, for their disloyalty, and the whole population put to the sword, or, as the Hebrew expresses it, “devoted”, as having forfeited their lives to God; only 400 maidens being spared. These were brought to Shiloh, and presently sent, to the crag Rammon, to “proclaim peace” to the fugitive Benjamites, who were only too glad to take the olive branch thus tardily offered. The captive girls were then given to them as wives. But 200 men still remained unsupplied. A pious fraud, however, secured them partners also. No father in Israel could give his daughter to them, but they were to hide in the vineyards at Shiloh at the yearly feast, when the maidens were dancing in the open, and each catch one for himself, for a wife : the fathers soothing their consciences from a charge of having broken their oaths, by the specious defence that they had not given their daughters to Benjamites; the eager bridegrooms having taken them by force.

From such a small beginning had the tribe to found a new history for itself in Israel.

Samson appears to have lived about a hundred years before David (David took Jerusalem B.C. 1044), when things were almost at their lowest in Israel. The lawlessness, disunion, and demoralization of the country are reflected in the notices preserved to us of his life; but, even amidst its roughest passages, there is evidence of an undercurrent of still life which held its own amidst the troubles of the age. The vintage ripens peacefully in the sun, and the marriage feast runs through seven days, with its jests and riddles. Another glimpse of this calmer side of things is revealed in the Book of Ruth, which apparently refers to the same period, and brings before us the mountain village of Bethlehem and the sunny valleys underneath it, as they were 3,000 years ago, with their humble life, in its lights and shadows ; the waving harvest falling before rows of brown reapers, and the maidens binding the sheaves behind them.

This famous hill-town stretches along the winding, flat top of a ridge, two thousand five hundred and fifty feet above the sea—that is, a hundred feet higher than Jerusalem. The road to it from the Holy City runs south through the deep ravine outside the Jaffa gate, then across the valley of Hinnom, up the slope between gray waves of limestone pasture, and so on, up and down, with a multitude of low, rounded, gray heights, nearer and farther off, on both sides, for about five miles, till, after passing the grave of Rachel on the right hand, close to the track, you turn sharp to the left, and ride into Bethlehem on a road nearly level with it. From the point where you bend east towards it, the valleys on the north, west, and south are more or less in view; each with its own pleasant charms. The slopes sink in green terraces to the broad sweep below, which stretches across to other slopes and heights, beyond. The terraces on the north side are more numerous than those on the south, and must be very old, their great supporting walls rambling along the hill­sides in every direction, holding up flat breadths from which rise olives, figs, and other fruit trees. The north valley, also, is rich with olives, figs, and patches of grain, and green pastures, but the south is even more fertile, or, at least, is better cultivated, being in the hands of Christian owners, who are much more industrious and business-like than Mohammedans. No sight in Palestine, indeed, pleased me more than the really beautiful gardens and orchards of the wide hollow through which you pass south, to Hebron, but much of the ground is only newly enclosed, to grow vegetables and fruit for the Jerusalem market, to which great quantities of cabbages, cauliflowers, and other produce, such as we have in our own gardens, is taken each morning, by women, who also carry in a great deal of fruit in its season. The town itself is entered through a low arch, now without a gate; but, before you come to it, you pass on the left an open, flat sheet of yellow limestone, on which open three shafts leading down to great cisterns, now dry, but famous as traditionally “the well at the gate” from which David’s heroes brought him the water for which he longed. The cistern is not only very large, but very ancient, and thus the well may have been one of these openings. I remember them especially, from the fear I had, while sleeping in my tent beside them, that I would fall down one or other; and from my tortures by clouds of mosquitoes which seem to have their happy hunting grounds on this spot.

The town itself winds along in a main street fringing the north side of the ridge, side streets, very rough and of no length, running across on the right-hand side, towards the south side, across a middle street parallel with the ridge, dividing the houses into two long main lines. On the south side the slope is less steep, and the houses have, in some cases, orchards before or near them. The long main street, and, indeed, the little town as a whole, is built of beautiful white limestone, the houses being often of only one story or a story and a half, with a flat roof in all cases, and a low dome rising like a half egg from it, marking the point where the arches, springing from each corner below, meet in the centre. Wood is so scarce that all houses, of whatever kind, through Palestine, are built in this way. At the east of the town rises the grand old Church of the Nativity, and close to it the castle-like monasteries of various sects; their buttresses reaching down the slopes like the supports of fortress walls. In the valley below, to the east, are the fields in which Ruth gleaned; along the slope, climbing up to the town, is the path by which she went down to the fields of Boaz and returned from them. Beyond these, on a slope facing west, tradition tells us the shepherds saw the Christmas angels. Whichever way you look hills meet you, gray and rounded; but to the east, the landscape soon begins to sink in great steps of gray and yellow hills, peaks, and clefts towards the Dead Sea, fourteen miles off and nearly four thousand feet below Bethlehem. On all the other sides the prospect is human and inviting, but on this there is only desolation, for it is part of Jeshimon, “the horror”—or, in other words, of the wilderness of Judaea. The population of Bethlehem, which is mostly Christian, is very industrious, men and women working together, in the manufacture of countless varieties of little memorials of the town—crosses, carved oyster shells, etc., for sale to pilgrims and visitors. The dress of the men is the same as in other parts of the country, but that of the women is very striking. Maidens wear a light frame on their heads, covered with a long white linen or cotton veil, hanging down to the elbows, and strong enough to be used, when needed, for carrying grain or what they please in it, when taken off. Under the veil is a diadem of silver or silver gilt, with ornaments of the same material at each end, leaving the forehead only partially visible. Their black hair falls in heavy plaits over their shoulders, but is not allowed to hide their earrings, and their faces are exposed, as they are Christians, and have not, like other Oriental women, to shroud themselves from their fellow-creatures. They wear a long blue or striped dress, generally of cotton, tied in loosely at the waist, with open sleeves hanging down to the knees; its front set off with pieces of red, yellow, or green cloth. Over this gown, however, those who can afford it wear a bright red, short-sleeved jacket, to the waist, or to the knees. Matrons have a somewhat different headdress, the veil resting on the top of a round, brimless felt hat, with coins in front, in most cases, as ornaments. They, too, wear ear-rings, and strings of coins hang round their necks. The veil of both married and single women is about two yards long and not quite a yard wide, so that it is large and stout enough to make an easy means of carrying what the wearer pleases, however bulky or heavy. Such was the place, and such, in our day, are the people, of the scene of Ruth’s charming story.

This gentle pastoral is introduced into the canon from its connection with the history of David, the hero-king of Israel, and, through him, with our Lord. The spoilers have wasted the district round Bethlehem, or perhaps the rains have failed, and men have to wander where they can for bread. Among others, Elimelech, “My God is King”, with his wife Naomi, “the Lovable”, and their two sons, Mahlon, “the Sickly”, and Chilion, “the Pining One”, make their way to the more fortunate uplands of Moab, where the language is the same, though the faith be different. Yet the trouble which they sought to flee follows them in a worse shape, for Naomi is presently a widow. Her two sons marry women of Moab, but the bridal chamber is soon hung with mourning, for the two wives are ere long without husbands. Only the three widows remain.

Naomi now hears that Jehovah has “visited His people in giving them bread”, and sighs, in a strange land, for the familiar scenes and faces of her old happy life. She will go back to Bethlehem, but begs her two daughters-in-law to remain in their own country, thanking them tenderly for the kindness they had shown the dead. Orpah, “the Fawn”, kisses her and stays, but Ruth, the true “Friend”, will not leave her, and goes on with her to her old home. The rest of the book is simply the story of Naomi’s gratitude, shown in true womanly fashion, by her schemes to get Ruth a home. The old Jewish marriage customs required the nearest relation of a dead husband, to become his legal substitute, known as his goël, from being bound to discharge all duties of protection, blood revenge, or marriage rights, for the dead man, such as the buying back his inheritance, if estranged, and marrying his widow, if childless, to raise up a son to him, that “his name should not cease in Israel”. Naomi bethinks herself that Boaz, “the Active”, one of the rich men of the village, is the goël of Ruth’s dead husband, and lays her kindly plans accordingly. Ruth must go to his fields and glean, for harvest has begun, and the barley is being cut. He will see her there, and perhaps she may find favour in his eyes. Nor is she wrong, for Boaz presently notices her, and falls in love with her at first sight. Then the relationship is disclosed, with its claim on him to marry her, which he will be only too happy to honour, if he can do so legally. But there is another goël nearer than he, who must first be asked. Should that kinsman decline, he himself will be a husband to Ruth, and Naomi shall have back her inheritance. The end, as might have been expected, is that Boaz and Ruth become man and wife; and her first son is Obed, the grandfather of David.

The glimpses of ancient life in the future town of David and of Christ are full of interest. When Ruth’s story opens, the little valley below the houses is yellow with ripe barley, and rich with tall green wheat that will be golden ere long. The harvest is reaped by men, but the sheaves are bound by maidens. Life is simple, as it is still in these parts, and the well-to-do Boaz courteously greets his work-people as he comes to them, and is as politely greeted in return. Their meals, while at work, are as simple as all else—only ears of the barley they are cutting, roasted and shelled by hand— and thin cakes of bread, dipped in sour wine as a relish, with clear water, drawn by the young men, for drink. Such modest fare is indeed usual, even now, in Palestine, among reapers. A fire of dry grass or withered stalks is kindled, and a quantity of ears of grain tossed on it, to lie there till the husks are burnt off. When this has happened, the whole are dexterously swept, from the embers, into a cloth laid to receive them, after which the grain is beaten out, and the chaff blown off by tossing the whole against the wind. After this, it is ready to be eaten. It is sometimes roasted in a pan or on an iron plate, or a bunch of ears is held over the fire till the chaff is scorched off. This is done by the women, who show great skill in holding the grain in the flame only just as long as is proper, and then beating it out very cleverly, with a short stick. Vinegar is still often mixed with the water drunk with this pleasant kind of food, for it is pleasant to the taste. Nor is Boaz himself too grand to eat with the rest, or to join in their work. If he does not reap, he winnows the grain, after younger arms have threshed it out on the floor in the open field, and, like his successors in the same parts in our own day, he lies down to sleep by his heap at night, that he may watch it. Gleaning is allowed by the old law of Moses, but the kindliness of the statute book is too often forgotten in practice; for Ruth owes it rather to her gentleness and her good looks, than to Moses, that the young men do not approach her, or order her away. But roasted corn and water are not the only food; for, when the day’s work has ended, Boaz eats and drinks better fare, till his heart is merry. The elders of Bethlehem are its local council, and they and all the men of the village, with the eager curiosity and utter indifference to the doss of time, characteristic of the East, gather round Boaz and the other goel, as they make the final business arrangements, by which the former buys back her field for Naomi, and gains Ruth for himself, taking off his sandal and giving it to the vendor as evidence, according to an old Jewish custom, of the sale having been perfected by a second goël, the first having refused to do his duty. Nor are the women less completely our sisters. What modern match­maker could be more skilful than Naomi; what maiden more modestly careful to do her best to attract than Ruth, as she “washes and anoints herself, and puts on her best clothes” when she hopes to see Boaz? Even the gathering of the women on the birth of the infant Obed, and their congratulations, are true to human nature in every age.

One feature of this charming idyl, however, gives it a specially distinctive colour—its intense religiousness. Despite centuries of oppression, division, and religious decay, it breathes a lofty spirit of loyalty to Jehovah, which appears at every turn. It is He who has given His people bread; He who deals kindly with the widow; He who grants her that she may rest in the house of a husband. But it is He also who tries the children of men, and from whose hand afflictions go out against them. Indeed, He at times deals “very bitterly”, even with those who love Him, but He is still their God, under whose wings they trust, and who recompenses man’s work and gives him a full reward. He is no mere name to which to turn in formal rites, but a Father—the Friend and Protector, yet, also, the sovereign Judge and Lord—demanding obedience and heavily punishing sin. That such conceptions still found a home in Israel, after more than four hundred years of moral and political degradation, and still filled the life of some, at least, with the thought of God, and of their race being His chosen people, was the guarantee of future national regeneration. It was certain that, ever and again, such truths would assert themselves in the hearts of the nation, and bring with them political as well as moral renewal; the one, indeed, as the result of the other.

But this peaceful glimpse of every-day life in the quiet of Bethlehem is only a moment of sunshine through thick clouds. That so much private worth and religious earnestness should still remain in the hidden nooks of the land was, indeed, the best pledge of its rise hereafter from the disasters of the present; but the recovery was to be delayed for a long time yet. The want of a central government still left Israel weak and helpless; for though Judges might rise in any tribe, and for a time beat off the swarming enemies round, their sphere was at best only local, and their power ended with victory. Without any lasting or general combination, the different parts of the country could be attacked in detail, and harried or enslaved. Nor was the picture shown in the story of Ruth that of the country at large. Constant intermarriages with the heathen still continued, and had introduced a low morality that sapped the character of the nation, even in its priesthood. In this gloomy time the name of Eli emerges as both the high priest at Shiloh and the Judge of Israel, but he appears before us in his feeble old age, with a soft and yielding goodness ill suited for the times. Only gentle words come from his lips, and he is unable even to rebuke his unworthy sons with the sternness their offences demanded. Yet such a spirit must, in those rough times, have had its special worth in the influence of a blameless life, and in commending widely the religion it exemplified. Hence we may justly regard him as no unworthy agent, in the religious revival which culminated under Samuel, and raised Israel from its political degradation. Despairing hearts from Ephraim or Dan, or from beyond the Jordan, must have constantly sought the high priest at Shiloh; nor can it be doubted, that they would be pointed by him to Jehovah, the God of their fathers, as the true help of the nation in its troubles, and made to feel that their having forsaken Him had brought them all their sorrow.

II.

ELI.

ELI marks a transition period, when things were tending more and more to the establishment of centralized power; for hitherto, so far as we know, no high priest had been also Judge. But his pontificate may itself mark the darkness of the times, for he was of the race of Ithamar, not of Phinehas, the successor of Aaron in the elder branch.(The Rabbis say that the line of Phinehas was displaced because that high priest had been compromised in the matter of Jephthah’s daughter). Had some priestly revolution put him in power? Or was the heir of Phinehas too young at his predecessor’s death to wear the ephod? Eli’s elevation as Judge may perhaps have been due to some warlike deed in his earlier life; for the Philistines seem to have been driven back, when his name first occurs, from the position they held in Samson’s day. Or it may be that he received the name of Judge simply from his giving counsel to the warlike bands which came to Shiloh to consult the Urim and Thummim respecting their proposed enterprises; for the high priests of Israel were not wont to go out to battle.

Quiet, sympathetic, and humble before God, as we find him in his old age, Eli had yet been unable to do more than sow the seed of a future reformation in the community. The very priesthood around him, and even his two sons, were tainted with the prevailing licentiousness. In the words of Scripture, they were men of Belial, or “the pit”—that awful abyss, which, to the Hebrews, was the home of evil spirits. As priests, they should have set an example of godliness; but, instead of that, they looked on their office simply as a means of gratifying their self-indulgence and sensual passions. The Mosaic rites were still observed at Shiloh, and these required that burnt-offerings should be wholly consumed by fire on the altar. Sin-offerings, on the other hand, were eaten by the priests. In the case of peace-offerings, however, the fat of the inside alone was burned on the altar. The priest had then, for his share, the breast and the shoulder, after they had been waved before the Lord; the rest of the victim being returned to the offerer, to be eaten by himself and his family, with such friends as he invited. But this appointed arrangement did not satisfy Eli’s sons. “They knew not or cared nothing for Jehovah, nor for the legal due of the priests from the people”. Their lawful portion not contenting them, they sent their servants to the place where the share belonging to the offerer was being boiled, and these thrust “aflesh-hook of three teeth” into the pot, and claimed for their masters whatever it brought up. Nor was this all; they forthwith demanded, even before the fat had been offered on the altar, a share of the raw flesh, ostensibly to roast, but perhaps also to secure a larger booty. No greater outrage could have been committed than thus to desecrate the sacred offerings, nor was it a slight thing to take away the sacred food from those to whom it belonged. Amidst the prevailing lawlessness such an example set by the sons of the high priest soon showed its natural consequence, by men “holding in contempt” the whole service.

But this was not their whole, or even their worst, offence. Women were employed outside the Tabernacle to prepare the sacred bread; to attend to the holy garments, and to lead the sacred songs and dances, in which others of their sex, from all the tribes, joined at the great festivals. “The singers”, says David, speaking of the Tabernacle, “go before, the players on instruments follow after, in the midst of damsels playing with timbrels”. Indeed, the popular poetry and music were left mainly in the hands of the women till David’s time, as we see in the cases of Miriam and of Deborah. The sex was not employed in cleaning the sacred Tent, because females were excluded from part of it; such work, moreover, is usually done by men in the East. These choristers, if we may call them so, the sons of Eli only too successfully corrupted; nor could the gentle high priest rouse himself to his duty further than to give godly counsels to the offenders, instead of inflicting on them stern punishment. “Why do ye such things?” said he; “for I hear of your evil dealings from all the people. Nay, my sons, for it is no good report that I hear the Lord’s people to be spreading. If a man sin against another, one can pray for him to God; but if he sin against God, who shall intercede for him?” Such weakness brought with it a heavy penalty. A prophet—the first mentioned since the days of Moses—came to Eli with the terrible message : “Thus saith Jehovah. Did I plainly appear unto the house of thy father (Aaron) when they were in bondage to Pharaoh, and did I choose him out of all the tribes of Israel, to be My priest, to offer on My altar, to burn incense, and wear an ephod before Me? And did I give to the house of thy father all the offerings made by fire of the children of Israel? Wherefore will ye wickedly trample down My sacrifice and My offering, which I have commanded them; and honour your sons above Me, to make yourselves fat with the chiefest of all the offerings of Israel My people?” “For this”, he went on to say, “the days come that I will cut off thine arm, and the arm of thy father’s house, and will break their strength, that there shall not be an old man in thine house. And thou, the enemy of My sanctuary, wilt look greedily on all the good that God does to Israel, and there shall not be an old man in thy house for ever. And yet I will not destroy every one belonging to thee from Mine altar, which thine eyes slight and thy soul despises; but all the increase of thy house shall die in the flower of their age”. As a sign that this would certainly happen, he foretold, moreover, that Hophni and Phinehas, Eli’s two sons, would die in one day : that the priesthood would be continued in the elder line, not in his ; and that his race would sink to obscurity and want. How fully this curse was fulfilled will be seen hereafter.

But this was not the only announcement of the doom of the worthy but weak old man’s race. A family lived in Ramathaim Zophim—“the two heights of the Zuphites”—perhaps “the watchers” or “lookers out” or “prophets”, somewhere in the hills of Ephraim. The name of the husband was Elkanah—“whom God created”; but there were two wives—Hannah, “Grace” or “Favour”, and eninnah, “Coral”; the second having likely been taken because the first had no children. But, as might have been expected, this double marriage—a thing even then uncommon—did not add to his happiness, for even among Orientals the misery of polygamy is proverbial. “From what I know” says one, “it is easier to live with two tigresses than with two wives”. And a Persian poet is of well-nigh the same opinion :

“Be that man’s life immersed in gloom

Who needs more wives than one :

With one his cheeks retain their bloom,

His voice a cheerful tone :

These speak his honest heart at rest,

And he and she are always blest.

But when with two he seeks for joy,

Together they his soul annoy;

With two no sunbeam of delight

Can make his day of misery bright”.

An old Eastern drama is no less explicit :

“Wretch! wouldst thou have another wedded slave?

Another! what, another! At thy peril

Presume to try the experiment: wouldst thou not

For that unconscionable, foul desire,

Be linked to misery? Sleepless nights, and days

Of endless torment—still recurring sorrow

Would be thy lot. Two wives! O never, never  

Thou hast not power to please two rival queens;

Their tempers would destroy thee; sear thy brain;

Thou canst not, Sultan, manage more than one.

Even one may be beyond thy government!”

Yet Elkanah was a worthy man, and even in these wild and evil times went up yearly, with his whole family, to Shiloh, at the Passover. But the household sacrifices there brought him trouble; for he had to give Peninnah and her sons and daughters each a share in the offerings, while the childless Hannah could have only a single portion, though he loved her better than her rival.

The story of Hannah’s betaking herself, after the family rejoicings, to the door of the Tabernacle, where Eli used to sit; her bitterness of soul at Peninnah’s taunts; her weeping and silent prayer for a son, are exquisitely told; a state of mind which can only be understood when we realize the peculiar notions on such matters in the East. Among Orientals, a wife who has no son is inconsolable, but neither she nor her husband sets any value on the birth of a daughter. To express the very smallest thing she could imagine, a little girl in a Palestine mission school described it as being “as little as the joy of my father when I was born”. But, on the birth of a son, a man ceases to be known by his own name; his neighbours, to honour him, speaking of him as the father of Mohamed, or David, or whatever the child may be called. The intense desire of both husband and wife leads, indeed, at times, to ludicrous results. I was told at Gaza, of a poor man’s wife in the town who had presented her husband with two daughters, but, as he had threatened to divorce her if she had a daughter and not a son, her mother told him when the children were born that his wife had borne two sons. Nothing could exceed his delight. He danced and shrieked for joy. At night, however, the truth came out, and his distress at having been so demonstrative was irresistibly comical; moreover, he was in trouble about his declaration that he would divorce his wife if she had a daughter. He really loved her, and did not wish to be forced to keep his word. The desire to get out of his difficulty soon found an ingenious apology for a change of front. “He had said he would divorce her if she had one daughter, but had never said he would do so if she had two”. So he kept her! It is very common, indeed, if a daughter be born, for the father to refuse to see or speak to the mother, and her friends and relatives, especially the female part of them, upbraid her, and condole with the husband as if he had been ill-treated. I was told at Beirout of a woman in the town who had been made a wretched cripple for life by her mother or father throwing her out of the window at her birth, because she was not a son. In her intense longing for a blessing so prized, Hannah, as wives often do in the East, made vows in the event of its being granted her. She vowed, therefore, that, if God granted her desire, she would consecrate the infant to Him as a Nazarite. In due time the birth of Samuel, “Heard of God”, answered the lowly cry. Grief had long saddened his mother, but she now rejoiced. Year after year, when her husband went up to Shiloh, to offer his sacrifice, and to pay his tithes, she stayed at home with her son, till he should be old enough to take with her to the Tabernacle, and be left there as “a loan to Jehovah” for his whole life.

Intrusted, at last, to Eli, who lovingly accepted him, the child grew up in the sanctuary; at first, probably, in charge of the women of the Tabernacle. But as soon as his age permitted, simple offices were assigned him. The House of God was thus the only home he knew, and his earliest impressions were associated with it. Even as a boy he “ministered to the Lord” in a linen ephod, the special priestly vestment originally worn by the high priests only, though that of Samuel, who was a Levite by birth, but not a priest, was as yet of ordinary linen; not the finer material used for the higher office. It was his mother's delight to bring him his simple vestment, made by her own hands, year by year, when she came up to the feast.

Through Samuel, Eli heard, even more solemnly than from the lips of the prophet, the fate awaiting his house. The child, busied by day in little cares connected with the Tabernacle, slept at night in some part of it, as did also Eli. Near the entrance of the holy place, on the left, stood the seven-branched “candlestick”, now mentioned for the last time, and superseded in the reign of Solomon by ten separate candlesticks, but revived after the captivity, in the copy from the original form, still to be seen on the Arch of Titus. It was the only light in the Tabernacle through the night, and after being trimmed each evening, all its lamps but one were extinguished just before morning, when the curtains of the outer entrance were once more drawn aside. It was in the stillness of the early dawn, the time of “visions of the night”, when heavy sleep is breaking with the approach of day, that the soft voice of a child was divinely used to announce to Eli the doom of his line, because his sons had “reviled God” and their father had not restrained them.

The first blow fell on the guilty priests, Hophni “the Fighter”, and Phinehas, “the Brazen-mouthed”. The relentless Philistines were again invading Israel, and had beaten and driven back its host, at a spot between the western entrance of the pass of Bethhoron, and Beth-shemesh, “the House of the Sun”, a village on the boundary of Judah, in the broad valley of Sorek, on a line between Ashdod and Jerusalem. The Philistines were in the habit of bringing the images of their gods into the battlefield, to secure the victory; could it be that the want of any similar heavenly guardianship on the side of Israel had caused its defeat? The chiefs of the host, as superstitious as their foe, concluded that it must be so. Had they had the Ark with them, it would have secured Jehovah’s support, for did He not dwell between the cherubim that overarched it? Off, therefore, across the hills, to Shiloh, marched a band, and brought back to the camp the awful symbol, attended by Hophni and Phinehas, as its priestly guardians. Now, at last, they must triumph, and the “earth rang again” with their shouts of joy in the anticipation. Spies soon told the Philistines what had hap­pened, but the thought that they had to strive with the mighty God who had smitten Egypt only roused them to desperate courage. “Would they be slaves to the Hebrews, as the Hebrews had been to them? No; they would quit themselves like men”.

That very day, or the next, there ran from the Israelitish army, up the steep pass, over and round the countless hills, nearly thirty miles as the crow flies, to Shiloh, a Benjamite; accomplishing the distance before night. News from the army was anxiously awaited throughout the villages of the tribes, but nowhere more eagerly than in the sanctuary-town, from which the Ark had been carried forth to the battlefield. Among the rest, however, two especially longed to hear the result—Eli, now 98 years old, and blind; and the wife of Phinehas. Eli, in his anxiety, sat on his wonted seat by the gate of the Tabernacle, at the road side. Presently, as the evening darkened, a young man rushed up the valley to the gate of Shiloh, his clothes torn, and dust on his head, in sign of deepest grief and dismay. It was not necessary to tell his message. 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. Making his way to Eli, the news at last came out in its terrible fullness. Israel was beaten; Hophni and Phinehas were killed; and, worse than all, the Ark of God was taken. This last announcement was overwhelming. It broke the old man’s heart. Struck with a fit on the moment, he fell backward heavily from his seat, and died. Tidings of the catastrophe soon reached the house of Phinehas, and there also the announcement was fatal to his wife. Not even the birth of a living son, which presently happened, could cheer her. The “Glory of Israel” was in the hands of the uncircumcised. Her child should bear in his name a memorial of the evil day. She would call him, with her parting breath, no other than Ichabod; the land was “without its glory”. God had “forsaken the tabernacle of Shiloh, the tent which He placed among men, and delivered His Strength into captivity, and His Glory into the enemy’s hand”. The event imprinted itself on the heart of the nation, so as to be thus remembered in its psalms in after ages. An ancient manuscript of the Book of Judges, at St. Petersburg, indeed, recognizes it as an epoch in the national history; recording that the image of Micah continued to be worshipped at Dan until “the day of the captivity of the Ark”.

Such a calamity was appalling in an age which associated the presence of God with the symbol now lost; perhaps for ever. To the ignorant multitude it would doubtless seem as if, in gaining the Ark, the Philistines had also secured the presence and aid of Jehovah; for this was the common idea in the ancient world. It was grievous for the tribes to have lost their God; but to find Him in the hand of their enemies, was a disaster of inexpressible magnitude.

The joy of the Philistines was in proportion to the dismay of the Hebrews. To lead off the gods of a foe was the most signal mark of victory on the one side, and of humiliation on the other. The Assyrian sculptures often exhibit the idols of vanquished nations, borne in triumphal procession by the conquerors, and the prophets frequently allude to the custom. Isaiah predicts that the gods of Babylon will go into captivity, borne ignominiously on the backs of beasts of burden or in waggons. Chemosh, the god of Moab, and Milcom, the god of the Ammonites, are foretold by Jeremiah as doomed to the same disgrace, “with their priests and princes together”. The calf, worshipped by Northern Israel at Samaria, was to be carried into Assyria as a present to the king; and in the wars between Syria and Egypt, the gods of the former were to be carried captives into the latter. The Philistines, in the same way, led off the Ark, and placed the trophy in the shrine or chapel of their god Dagon, at Ashdod—the New Testament Azotits, and the modern Esdud—as a recognition of his victory over Jehovah. But such spoils were held even then, by not a few, as of doubtful value; the thoughtful fearing that the hatred and vengeance of the god so insulted might be visited on his captors. Thus the wiser among the Romans criticised the conduct of Marcellus, who first brought Grecian statues and pictures of the gods to their city to adorn his triumph; thinking better of the course followed by Fabius, who, in taking Tarentum, had told his army to leave to the Tarentines the gods offended with them.

The god Dagon, worshipped at Ashdod, was a Phoenician, and also an Assyrian divinity. Indeed, the name is Assyrian, and hence the ordinary derivation of the name from “Dag”, the Hebrew word for “fish”, cannot be correct, as the Assyrian for “fish” is quite different. In the Assyrian inscriptions Dagon, “the exalted one”, is coupled with Ami, “the Sky”, the two reigning together in Haran, high up the Euphrates, on the road to Palestine, whither his worship could, thus, early be carried to Phoenicia, when he became a popular deity. There was a Beth-Dagon, the house or temple of Dagon, in the nominal territory of Asher, near Tyre and Sidon. But it was among the Philistines in the far south of Palestine that he was especially honoured, for he seems to have been exalted by them into a “Baal”, and to have been the supreme god of the confederated Philistine towns. Besides a great temple at Ashdod, he had another at Gaza, and there was a town called Beth-Dagon in the Philistine plain, while other sanctuaries, not mentioned in the Bible, no doubt existed. He was probably a fish-god, with the head and hands of a man, but it is doubtful whether the figures, half man and half fish, are really figures of this deity. Traditions of great benefactors who came from beyond the sea, and thus, or perhaps from their dress in marine skins, gave rise to the union of the fish and man in a divine symbol, and to the worship of sacred fish, are common to many countries, from China to the Mediterranean. At Askelon and Acre, down to the sixth century of our era, Venus had still her ponds of such holy fish, and, indeed, such is the tenacity of religious ideas, fish are still sacred in some parts of Palestine. The mosque of el Bedawi at Tripoli contains in its courtyard a pond of sacred fish, which are believed to have disappeared during the Russo-Turkish war, and to have been transformed into Moslem warriors, who fought for the Sultan. After the war they resumed their fish form and reappeared in the tank.

At Acre, also, there is still a superstitious reverence for the fish in some ponds once consecrated to the Syrian Venus. With Dagon was joined his consort, Derceto, who shared in the honours paid him as the beneficent being who first taught man the use of the plough, and gave him the priceless bounty of introducing the grain plants and teaching how to grow them.

It would, indeed, have been better for the Philistines to have acted thus, for their triumph brought the speedy humiliation of Dagon. Next morning his image was found lying on the ground before the Ark; and when it had been raised to its place again, it was found once more, on the second morning, not only cast down, but shattered to pieces in its upper half; only the lower being left whole, as if in contempt; the fragments larger and smaller lying dishonoured, on the threshold of the cell. Henceforth no one would step on the spot, but entered by leaping over it, a custom which spread even to Israel in after days. An idea of special holiness seems to have been connected with the entrance to a temple, for even now, in Persia, through the influence of this fancy, the threshold of the palace is sacred and must not be touched by the foot, and to touch the threshold of a temple with the forehead, from humility, was usual in Egypt and in antiquity generally, and still is, in the case of certain mosques, with the Mohammedans. Moreover, when the temple of Somnauth, in India, was destroyed by the Mohammedans, fragments of the gods were sent to Meccah and Medina to be laid on the threshold of the mosques, that they might be trodden under foot in contempt; a curious side-light on the feelings of the Philistines when the pieces of their shattered god lay in the same humiliation.

But the degradation of the idol was not the only vindication of the honour of God. Ere long, a terrible plague broke out in Ashdod and its neighbourhood; for “in their land sprang up mice”, a word including in the Hebrew all the small quadrupeds at any time attacking the crops, the number of these in Palestine being no fewer than twenty-three, which are all in the Bible classed by the significant name of “the corn-eater”, or “the devastator of the fields”.

“A great and deadly destruction”, moreover, soon after broke out in the city. This plague is described in our version and in many besides—one following another—as that of haemorrhoids, but it is much more likely to have been a pestilence accompanied by local swellings, such as mark the Oriental plague, and may have been caused by the devastations of the field vermin, which, Oken assures us, often cause famine by their ravages. Van Lennep, indeed, in 1863, saw whole fields of wheat and barley in Asia Minor disappear in a short time before the depredations of innumerable field rats, which passed over the ground like an army of young locusts. The vines and mulberry trees, also, were quickly gnawed through and overthrown. All the harvest of a farm of 150 acres, which these pests had invaded, was thus entirely destroyed, and the whole neighbourhood suffered more or less. In the same way, an old traveller found such vast numbers of rats and field mice in the country from Gaza northwards, that, “if nature had not provided a great plenty of birds which lived on them, the people could not have sown any seed that would not have been eaten”.

Smarting under such heavy visitations, the chiefs of the five confederate Philistine cities sent the Ark to Gath, and then to Ekron, but at both places disaster followed; so that, after it had been seven months among them, they were glad to send it back unconditionally to the Israelites. To propitiate Jehovah, it was determined, moreover, that small images, in gold, of the tumours and of the mice that afflicted them, should accompany it—one for each city. The custom was general in antiquity of hanging up beside the altars in the temples, such models of parts of the body that had been healed, by the god there worshipped, or of objects recalling dangers from which one had been rescued by him. In those of Greece, for example, silver models of eyes, legs, arms, etc., were displayed in great numbers; a custom still seen in the Greek churches of Russia, or the Roman Catholic churches of Italy or Switzerland. But, in the case of the Philistines, the “images” were not like these models, thank-offerings for recovery granted, since the plague still raged when they were sent off. Nor can they be compared to the talismans or amulets of astrologers and magicians of ancient or later times, which were regarded as charms to effect cures or avert evils, though the details respecting such wonder-working fancies are very curious.

Thus, Apollonius of Tyana made an image of a scorpion in brass, and set it on a small pillar in Antioch, with the asserted result of banishing all scorpions from the city thenceforward. Clay models from a scorpion carved on a stone in the wall of Hamath, in Syria, were believed to cure that creature’s bite, if laid on the injured spot. A crocodile in lead, marked by a charm, and buried in the foundations of an Egyptian temple, was thought to render the reptiles it represented harmless in the district. It is further related by Gregory of Tours, that, at the repair of an old bridge in Paris, the images of a serpent and of a mouse, in brass, were found, the removal of which was followed by the appearance of both serpents and mice in great numbers. Paracelsus, also, explains how a house may be freed from mice: “Make an iron mouse, under the conjunction of Saturn and Mars. Imprint on its belly ALBAMATATOX, etc. Then place this talisman in the middle of the house, and the vermin will instantly leave the place”. He adds, that a live mouse tied to this image will die immediately.

The Philistine images, in contrast to such thank-offerings or charms, were representations of the instruments by which punishment had been inflicted on them, and an acknowledgment that these calamities—the field-mice and the plague—had not come by chance, but had been inflicted by the God of Israel, for their having taken His Ark into captivity. It is expressly said, indeed, that they were “a trespass offering, to give glory to the God of Israel; if, peradventure, He would lighten His hand from off them, their gods, and their land”. A similar custom has prevailed from the remotest times in India. Thus Tavernier tells us, that when a pilgrim undertakes a journey to a pagoda, to be cured of a disease, he offers to the idol a present, either in gold, silver, or copper, according to his ability, in the shape of the diseased or injured member, and such a gift is recognized as a practi­cal acknowledgment that the suffering or evil endured has been inflicted by the god.

These visible confessions of the power of Jehovah, and mute appeals to His pity, were naturally accompanied by the restoration of the Ark itself. It was set on a new cart, doubtless of the rude form still universal in Western Asia, with solid wooden wheels, a vehicle unknown in our day in Palestine, for nothing with wheels is now used by the natives. Everything is carried on the backs of asses or camels, for horses are exceedingly scarce and are used only by great men or foreigners. There are, indeed, no roads for wheels, the dry beds of torrents serving instead of them at some places, and mere tracks at others. In Asia Minor there are carts, rude enough contrivances, the creaking of the wheels of which, for want of oil, struck through my brain. There are no tires on the wheels, which are simply huge circles of thick wood. In Palestine even the bulkiest articles are carried on camels, and the harvest is borne to the threshing floor by them and by asses. The Philistine cart would probably be like the carts of Asia Minor of our day. To this vehicle, two milch cows, which had never been used for labour, were yoked; their calves being shut up at home. If, notwithstanding this, they went on up the great valley of Sorek towards Beth-shemesh, the border village of Israel, such a contradiction of their natural instincts would show that what had been suffered had come from Jehovah. The incident is marked by the simplicity of the age. Attended by the five “Seranim”, or princes of the Philistine cities, the cart, with its awful burden, was drawn straight to Beth-shemesh. It was June—so that the Ark had been taken in November—and the wheat was being harvested as it approached. But the sight was too gladsome to let work be longer followed, and the reapers in the valley came, rejoicing, to meet it, when it was seen slowly wending up the long valley. Beth-shemesh was a Levitical town, so that Levites, the natural guardians of the Ark, at once received it with fitting reverence, laying it and the Philistine coffer, with its jewels, on a great stone hard by, and building a hasty altar, on which the wood of the cart was laid for fuel, and the cows that had drawn it were offered as a sacrifice of grateful joy. But even amidst this general gladness there were some who, either from sheer irreverence, or from the deep taint of heathenism then prevailing, stood aloof. “The sons of Jechoniah”, says the Septuagint, “did not rejoice amongst the men of Beth-shemesh when they saw the Ark of the Lord; and He smote of them threescore and ten men.” In our version the number is given as 50,070, but this is clearly an error of some copyist, as the whole population of a village like Beth-shemesh could not have been anything like that number.

The results of the battle in which the Ark was lost had been sad indeed for Israel. Following up their success, the Philistines seem to have subdued the whole country, as far north as Dan; the destruction of the local sanctuary there being incidentally dated, as we have seen, from the captivity of the Ark. Shiloh, the religious capital, was speedily laid in ashes, though the watchful care of the Levites carried off the Tabernacle in safety, before the approach of the invaders. A town had grown up round the sanctuary, as at its former site in Gilgal, and buildings had been raised beside it, for the priests and Levites, till it had assumed almost the appearance, and bore the name of a temple. But from the death of Eli, the last high priest who had his seat there, it lost all importance and sank into obscurity. Built on a hill, with a pleasant valley to the south, but surrounded with higher rounded hills on all other sides, it had been for centuries the national holy place of Israel. Five and a half hours north from Bethel, it lay in the heart of the land. Thither the faithful had come, year after year, for the great feast, and to pour out their burdened hearts, like Hannah, before God. There, they had presented their offerings; holding their festival on the portion of the victim which they were allowed to retain, and rejoicing together “before the Lord” in the great holiday of their lives. In the vineyards on the slopes, and in the valley, the young men and maidens had held their merry-makings and dances. At Shiloh, also, there is little doubt, the victories of the nation had been celebrated with a proud display of the chief prisoners and of the most noble booty; a prophetess like Deborah chanting her “song” at its head. Ewald has pictured such a scene—the incidents of the day beginning, in the still of the morning, with a song of thanks to Jehovah, who alone gave victory to His people—such a song as that for the triumph over Sisera—composed for the occasion. This Te Deum ended, the great triumphal procession would sweep along, with rejoicings and songs of its own, caught up by the multitude, and filling the air with gladness. But all this was now over. Shiloh lingered, indeed, in insignificance, not wholly deserted, but gradually sinking to such desolation that its fate was cited by the prophets as a warning to those who trusted in the safety of Jerusalem from its possessing the Temple. “Go now”, cries Jeremiah, speaking for God, “to My place which was in Shiloh, where I set My name at the first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of My people Israel”. So entirely, indeed, had it vanished in still early times, that even its site remained unknown till our own day, when Dr. Robinson rediscovered it, by the exact detail given in Judges, and by the touching fidelity with which its name was cherished under the form of Seilun.

Its ruins lie on the top of a gentle slope, covered in summer with fields of grain. A small village still crowns the hill, which is strewn with loose stones, amidst which a great number of ancient walls, of no great height, rise in squares, marking who knows what structures of the long past. They appear as if they had been basements of chambers of different sizes, and are everywhere very massive. Some of the stones are hewn, others unhewn, not a few of the latter being of great size, and, altogether, they form an irregular square of about eighty feet each way. The hills around are, as I have said, higher than Shiloh, and are girdled to the top with layers of the soft limestone of which they consist;  these jutting strata forming natural terraces, sometimes left waste, but, at others, planted with fruit trees. A small, shattered mosque stands below the ruins of Shiloh; part of it of very old stones, with some of the carved remains of what may have been a synagogue, in portions of the wall. Inside, it is grown up with weeds and wild flowers. The villagers are very poor, and in many cases, more or less blind, through neglected inflammation of the eyes. Blindness is, indeed, fearfully common now in Palestine; just as it was in the days of our Lord. The side-valley is lined with rock-cut tombs, a torrent bed winding down its centre; on the open plain from which this enters, the stubble of Indian corn, left from last harvest, covered the soil when I rode over it. Several carved fronts of rock-cut tombs, near the spring, had fallen away from the bed of rock on which they had been cut, and lay, still whole, in front of it. The hill of Shiloh, and all the others round, are mere bosses of limestone, of no great height—two or three hundred feet over the plain; but often less.

In one part of it, the surface has been levelled over a space 77 feet wide and 412 feet long, the rock having in some places been cut into to the depth of 5 feet—and this probably marks the site of the Tabernacle, as it is the only level spot on the “tell” large enough for it. Here, then, in all likelihood, on the north side of the ancient town, rose the sacred tent—the last memorial of the desert life—resting, say the Rabbis, on an under structure of low stone walls—the first approach to a permanent temple. A few small excavations and cisterns; numerous rock-hewn tombs; an old and now useless reservoir for the spring of Seilun, three-quarters of a mile off, also cut in the rock; and, half-way down the slope, a broad terrace, over which rises a venerable oak, casting wide its broad and grateful shadow—are the only memorials left of the once busy home of Eli and Samuel.

The history of the Tabernacle after its removal from Shiloh is obscure. It never again boasted of the Ark, but the priests still clung to it, and some portions of its ritual, at least, were kept up. For a time it seems, under Saul, to have been erected at Nob—which, like “Mizpeh” means a “height” or “watch-tower”, and is thought by many to have been the same as the place known by the latter name. It lay on the main north road, apparently in sight of Jerusalem. But after the massacre of the priests by Saul, Abiathar, the high priest, fled from it, taking with him the ephod and the oracular Urim and Thummim. It next appears at Gibeon, two or three miles north of Nob, where it remained till the capture of Jerusalem by David, and his erection in the new capital, of a second Tabernacle, to which the Ark was removed. The old sacred tent had now only the altar of burnt-offerings to connect it with the venerable past, and retained little more than a traditional sanctity. Neither people nor king, however, could bring themselves to destroy a historical memorial so precious, and hence a double service was kept up, by Zadok, as high priest at Gibeon, and under Asaph, with psalms, hymns, and music, on a fuller scale than heretofore, at Jerusalem. But with the building of Solomon’s Temple the lingering glories of the old Tabernacle finally perished, and it vanishes from history.

After its restoration at Beth-shemesh the Ark was soon removed to Kirjath-jearim—“the town of the woods”—supposed by the Palestine surveyors to have been identified as lying about four miles west of the hill overlooking Beth-shemesh, and about twelve miles from Jerusalem. Here, it found a resting-place in the house of one Abinadab, a Levite, who, in the abeyance of the priesthood, consecrated his son Eleazar as its guardian. There it remained for twenty years, till David “found it in the fields of the wood”, and having “prepared an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob”, finally brought it to Jerusalem. (Dr. Robinson proposed the village of Kuriet el Enab, seven and a half miles from Jerusalem, on the Jaffaroad, as the site of Kirjath Jearim, which was on the boundary line between the lands of Benjamin and Judah, but belonged to the latter. Eusebius and Jerome speak of it as at the ninth or tenth mile from Jerusalem on the road to Lydda, which, however, leads to Joppa).

 III.

SAMUEL AND THE RISE OF THE PROPHETS

THE condition of Israel, both morally and politically, had sunk to its darkest and worst in the early days of Samuel. The Ark was in the hands of her enemies; Shiloh, the national religious centre, burnt; and the Philistines, stimulated by their past success, were pushing on to the conquest of the whole country. Unhappily, the isolation of the different tribes prevented united resistance. Hence those of the south were soon completely crushed, and not only disarmed and made tributary, but forced to serve in the Philistine ranks against their countrymen. To check any future rising, moreover, every smith’s forge where a sword might be rudely made or a spear-head pointed, was shut up, and the people forced to go down from the hills to the Philistine towns on the plain if they wished so much as a ploughshare sharpened. Indeed, as early as Samson’s day the great tribe of Judah had been so utterly cowed as to lend itself actively, at the command of a Philistine officer, to the capture of the hero, and his surrender to the common enemy. Ere long, fortified posts at Michmash—the present Mukhmas—eight miles north of Jerusalem, and at Ceba, a hill close by, made the subjugation still more absolute. The south thus thoroughly overpowered, the Philistines in Eli’s time had proceeded to attack the central tribes, and at last broke their power and made them tributary, by the great battle of Aphek, when the Ark was taken and Shiloh given to the flames. Twenty years of Philistine oppression followed, and it seemed as if the whole land were finally to pass into the hands of that race, and Israel to perish as a nation. At this hour of deepest darkness rose Samuel— the prophet—its destined saviour.

Brought to the tent-temple at Shiloh in early childhood, the future reformer and restorer of his people—a Levite by birth—had been surrounded from his infancy by religious influences. The yearly visits of his mother, Hannah, moreover—a woman nobly true to Jehovah, and as such, as well as by natural sentiment, filled with sorrow and indignation to see her country, God’s own land, trampled under foot by the uncircumcised alien—must have turned his thoughts into lofty channels. The sacredness of his position, as pledged for life to the service of Jehovah, and consecrated by a vow of perpetual Nazarite devotion to Him, could not fail to affect him powerfully. His long hair, never touched by scissors; his required abstinence from wine; the purity demanded of him, which forbade his approach to the dead, even if the nearest relation, would keep this consecration always before him. But it must have been pre-eminently the sacred influence of his mother’s character that made him what he was, if we may judge from the fact that her memory remained so dear to him to the close of his long life, that even in old age we find him still wearing a “coat” like the one she had brought him year by year in his childhood—an outer garment fuller and longer than usual, but with­out sleeves, worn by men of birth and rank, by kings and princes, by priests, and especially by the high priests under the ephod.

The state of things, both religious and political, must have impressed itself deeply on a mind trained under such influences. The profligacy of Eli’s sons; the dissolution of morals in the community at large; the too general prevalence of a licentious and gross idolatry; the weakness of Eli as Judge, and his unfitness for the times, could not fail to be noted. Doubtless, also, there were some, among the priests and Levites of Shiloh, who remained true to Jehovah, and sighed over the national and spiritual decay around them, and Samuel may well have caught their spirit. In the Ark, while it was still in the sanctuary, there were, moreover, the two tables of the commandments and the Book of the Law, and it cannot be questioned that, while he would from the first know the commands and prohibitions of the former, he carefully studied the latter, day by day, for his future life was one long effort to revive its principles in the nation, and to enforce the observance of its requirements.

In those evil days, among other signs of religious decay, there were no longer, as in former times, revelations from Jehovah. “There was no vision scattered abroad” to prophets. While he was still a child, however, divine communications were once more opened with Israel through Samuel, to whom “the word of Jehovah came”, but we are not told how. At times, it may be, there was an audible voice, but the usual way of God’s revealing himself, as recorded in Scripture, was by visions and impressions on the mind during sleep, as in the first case of revelation to Samuel. A “deep sleep” fell on Abram before the great revelation made to him of the future of his race; and Eliphaz the Temanite tells us that “a word (or oracle) stole on him, and his ear caught its soft sound when dreams wake visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on men. Fear came on me, he adds, and trembling, which made all my bones shake. Then a spirit passed before me, making all the hair of my flesh stand up”. Presently it stood still, but he could not distinguish its features—it was only a form before his eyes. “Then I heard a still small voice, Shall mortal man be just before his Maker?”

In some such way, we may imagine, the “word” came to Samuel; for it speaks immediately after of his crying out, in prayer, to Jehovah, all night. When God thus first disclosed himself to the child, it is no wonder to learn that it was only after instruction from Eli—when the Voice had already spoken thrice—that he learned whence it came. His final answer, however, “Speak, Lord; Thy servant heareth” showed his spiritual fitness for the honour vouchsafed him. Though the first revelation he had received from God, it presupposed a nature already in inner communion with Him, for to such only does He reveal Himself thus. Henceforth, however, similar disclosures were often repeated, till, even while Eli still lived, all Israel, “from Dan to Beer-sheba”, felt that God was once more revealed at Shiloh, and that in Samuel they had a prophet, none of whose words fell to the ground.

After the disastrous battle of Aphek, Samuel seems to have returned to his father’s house at Ramah, doubtless greatly troubled and distressed. To Israel and to the Philistines alike, if not to him, it would seem that, with the Ark, God Himself had been led into captivity. In the Levitical circle in which he had grown up it would be taken for granted that the catastrophe was a punishment for national apostasy. They must have regarded it as almost equivalent to God having forsaken His people. Samuel, however, appears to have familiarized himself with what he could not remedy, and to have turned his thoughts in another direction. Mere regret was idle; true wisdom could only con­cern itself with the practical necessities of the situation. The cessation of offerings by the destruction of the sanctuary, would soon suggest to a mind so imbued with the spirit of the Law, whether, after all, they were indispensable to the pure worship of God or to a holy life. The formal would be felt wholly subordinate in religion to the spiritual, and the highest fulfilment of the Law would present itself as the homage of the heart and life. This elevation of the moral above the external, indeed, was the great characteristic of the prophetic order of which he was to be the founder, and the permanent safeguard against the substitution of outward form, for the vitality of inner religion. “Hath Jehovah”, asked he, of Saul, in after years, “as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of Jehovah? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of the black art, and stubbornness is as idolatry and (the worship of) Teraphim”. The truest reverence for God is loving obedience to His commands, and these were embodied in the Book of the Law, which Samuel had so deeply studied in Shiloh. The ceremonial was no doubt prescribed in it, and had its place in the religious economy. But it was outward at best. Far more vital than ritual service, was hearty loyalty to the “Ten Words” spoken by God from Sinai, of which the whole moral and spiritual teaching of the Law was only the amplification. Israel could not have been separated from the nations merely to present formal offerings and sacrifices to Jehovah, or to pay Him external homage. They must have been thus set apart that, like Abraham, they should “keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment; and obey His voice, and keep His charge, His commandments, His statutes, and His laws”.

Such ponderings would have only one result in a mind like that of Samuel. Realizing for himself that loyalty to God was the first duty of man and the condition of all true well-being, he must have felt it, from his opening manhood, the work of his life as a prophet, to bring back his nation to their ancient faith. His position and training shaped his career, and predestined him to be a Reformer. It was a gigantic task, but amidst much to discourage there were still some gleams of light. Two great objects must be gained before a true reformation could be effected. Its first condition was the restoration of political independence. The worship of Jehovah could not be reinstated and rooted in a community enslaved by the heathen. National spirit must therefore be rekindled, that the tribes might gain power to strike for freedom by their union and mutual sympathy. But this could only be attained by rousing a common relig­ious feeling. Zeal for Jehovah, such as that of their fathers, would at once infuse into all hearts a distinctive enthusiasm which would give them vigour in action, and would restore a grand ideal of individual and national life. The times were ripe for such a movement. Centuries of anarchy and suffering, from disunion, had prepared the people to subordinate their long-cherished fondness for tribal life to a wider national sentiment. The offer of the crown to Gideon, nearly 200 years before, had shown that this feeling was even then growing, and Eli’s position, as at once Judge and high priest, proved that the desire for a centralized authority was now becoming paramount. Nor had proofs been wanting through the whole period of the Judges that the national spirit, though in abeyance, was still a strong latent force. Year by year the tribes had gathered at Shiloh; there had been a wide rallying in support of Deborah and Barak; in the civil war against Benjamin the tribes had acted with a fatal unanimity; and the fame of Samuel as a great prophet had been hailed with equal delight in every part of the land. The earnest appeals of prophets in past days had, moreover, sunk into many hearts, for men had not forgotten how their fathers had wept at Bochim, when reproved by one, or how the words of another, at a later date, had led them, for the time, to put away the gods of the heathen from among them and serve Jehovah, amidst deep confession of sin and promises of amendment. The words of Hannah’s prayer, on leaving Samuel in the Tabernacle, reveal also a depth of religious feeling among some at least, which secured efficient help, from the first, in bringing about a great Revival. For what might not be hoped from a race, one of whose mothers could utter such thoughts in such words?

“My heart rejoices in Jehovah!

Exalted is my horn in Jehovah!

My mouth is opened wide (in a cry of victory) over mine enemies;

For I rejoice in Thy salvation.

No one is holy as Jehovah,

For there is no God beside Thee

No God is a Rock like our God.

Talk not so exceeding proudly ;

Put away haughtiness from your lips ;

For Jehovah is a God who knows all things,

And by Him men’s deeds are weighed.

Heroes of the bow are struck with dismay;

But the weak are girded with strength;

The full hire themselves for bread;

But they that were hungry rejoice;

The barren woman bears seven,

But she of many sons fades away.

Jehovah kills and makes alive;

Brings down to the underworld, and raises from it.

Jehovah makes poor and makes rich,

He brings low and raises up ;

He raises the weak out of the dust,

He lifts up the poor from the mire,

To give them thrones among princes;

And place them on the seat of honour.

For the foundations of the earth are Jehovah’s;

On them has He set the world.

He will keep the feet of His saints,

But the wicked go down into darkness ;

For by his strength shall no man prevail.

Jehovah!—confounded are they who contend with Him;

Out of heaven He thunders on them.

Jehovah will judge the ends of the earth,

To give the victory to His king.

To exalt the horn of His anointed”.

This utterance strikes the keynote of Samuel’s life; picturing the misery of his people, but filled with a lofty confidence in Jehovah, that He will roll away their reproach, and raise them to more than their ancient glory. The mind that bodied forth its inmost thoughts thus, must have yearned, above all things, that her son should be the hero of his race, to whom, under Jehovah, it would owe its salva­tion, and the aspiration of the mother coloured the life of the boy, for

                     “The childhood shows the man,

                              As morning shows the day”.

Hannah’s lofty patriotism, rooted in the noblest Puritanism, would, moreover, doubtless be re-echoed by some at least of the women about the Tabernacle, to whom the care of the Nazarite infant was committed, and thus the atmosphere he breathed would insensibly influence his whole future.

There is a tradition that Samuel’s first vision was granted when he was twelve years old—the age at which our Lord spoke with the Rabbis in the Temple. He had been separated from the mass of men, even as a child, by the Nazarite vow made for him, and by his priestly dress and Levite birth, but, as has been said, his being chosen thus early as the vehicle of Divine communications implies his already possessing a spiritual fitness to receive them. The defeat of Israel, and the death of Eli and his sons, with the overwhelming calamities that followed, finally determined his career, for it left the tribes without a sanctuary, and virtu­ally without a high priest; Ahitub, the eldest son of Phinehas, being too young for the office. The one leader to whom the nation had to look could be no other than he whom Jehovah Himself had marked out as such, by having already constituted him His prophet. At the death of Eli, there­fore, he naturally took his place at the head of Israel, acting as Judge, apparently before his formal recognition as such by his countrymen, and even performed the duties of priest when necessity demanded. That he should have done so, was indeed inevitable, for the regular priesthood was in abeyance by the death of Eli. But it shows, still further, the confusion and unsettledness of the times; for Samuel had no right, as a mere Levite, to discharge priestly functions. As yet, however, the state of things which we see in Micah’s sanctuary and Gideon’s ephod, had not passed away. Other great leaders of the nation had been only warriors, but Samuel was, above all, a Prophet; they had limited their work to soldierly deeds, his ideas were much wider and deeper. With the instinct of a profoundly religious nature he saw that the one condition of national regeneration was the renewal of a healthy moral and spiritual tone in the people at large. Like John the Baptist and the better Rabbis, in after times, he insisted, as a first step, on individual repentance of past sins and future loyalty to Jehovah, and it is his special glory that he, in the end, breathed a new life into the nation by impressing on it these great truths. From the depth of weakness and despondency he led it into the path which in the next generation raised it, under David, to the highest glory it ever attained. If Moses was the first founder of the state, Samuel was the second.

Such a revolution in the inner life of a people could only have been accomplished by slow degrees. Stolid indifference, unthinking lightness, old habits of thought, the dislike of strictness, and the bias to idolatry are not easily overcome. But Samuel had the moral greatness which ensured him success. He set himself to educate his countrymen in his own lofty and pure conceptions of individual and national duty; enforcing the teachings of the Law as the supreme standard of obligation towards God and their neighbours, and, at the same time, carrying out with unbending sternness its denunciations of idolatry, as a crime against the invisible King of Israel. Details of the means employed are not given, but some equivalent to our modern preaching was doubtless the chief. Gifted with a ready and forcible eloquence, he had the faculty of rousing slumbering spirits. The elders of tribes or clans, who from time to time sought his counsel, would carry back to their homes new thoughts and aspirations, to spread through their neighbour­hoods. Enthusiasm alone makes others enthusiastic, and Samuel must have glowed with it, to kindle such a spirit as gradually pervaded the nation. Speaking, as a prophet, in the name of Jehovah, and strengthening his appeals and protests, by the visions and revelations accorded him, he had the vantage ground of universally admitted inspiration. Communicated at first to the circle around him at Shiloh, or Ramah, his announcements of the Divine will, whether disclosing the future or sent to rouse and warn, and his expositions of the Law, would be carried through the land. This would be the more easy from the form in which, no doubt, they were delivered; the striking parable, the measured and rhythmical expression; perhaps the vivid symbolical action which marked the prophets after him, in all probability impressing his words on his hearers. Kindled by utterances so momentous in themselves and so strikingly enforced, it is no wonder his fame as a great prophet had been established while Eli still lived. Men repeated to each other over all the land, that the Spirit of Jehovah, which had rested on Moses, rested also on the son of Elkanah. There had been no prophet, in the higher sense of the word, since the death of their first great leader, and the fact that a second Moses had now been raised up, excited the hopes of all that a better time was at hand.

It was, indeed, the special distinction of Samuel that with him began the long roll-call of the Jewish prophets, as the name is generally applied. Abraham, and even the patriarchs as a whole, had been honoured with the title, because they had been favoured with visions and dreams from God, and were thus in direct communication with Him. Miriam and Deborah had been called prophetesses, the seventy elders, and Eldad and Medad, had prophesied, and from time to time messengers of God, bearing the name of prophets, had delivered Divine warnings to the people, but the inspiration thus vouchsafed had been partial and intermittent, and left a broad distinction, between the office as it was known before Samuel, and from his time.

The prophet is essentially an appearance peculiar to early ages and to the simple state of society before the fullness of revelation has yet been made known. The ancient world at large was marked by its eager efforts to penetrate the secrets of the higher powers which control human destiny. Nothing important was undertaken either in public or private life without inquiring the will of the gods, through seers, diviners, augurs, oracles, or prophets, who claimed ability to satisfy this craving. But there was a signal difference between the representatives of the heathen gods and those of Jehovah. To the former the indications of the divine will were read in the phenomena and occurrences of outer nature and of the animal world; in the whispering of the oak leaves at Dodona, in the flight of birds, in the motions of the entrails of a sacrifice, in the sounds of birds or beasts, or in their unexpected appearances. But in the true religion, this noble instinct was met only by communications made from the unseen God, through the spirit of man, His image on earth. The superstitious arts by which the knowledge of the future was generally sought, were all alike branded by Moses as unholy. Augurs and diviners had no place in Israel, nor was any other medium of inquiry from God sanctioned, but the Urim and Thummin, which seem to have been part of the full official costume of the high priest. The prophet takes the place of all enchanters and magicians. Any human power of divination is repudiated, and all disclosures of the purposes of God are due to direct communications from Himself. He alone, in fact, can prophesy; the prophet is only his voice among men. As He had adopted Israel as His covenant people in the past, founding their State and determining their mission, He still made Himself known among them, to help forward His plan of mercy to the world, and the prophets were the instruments through whom He did so.

Before Samuel, the prophets had been known as “seers”, but from his time, the name of Nabi, which has passed over into all other Semitic languages, was given as a title of honour. It comes from a root, “to boil up”, “to boil forth” like a fountain, and thus hints at the prophet as one who utters his words under the irrepressible influence of a Divine communication. His heart, to use the words of the Psalmist, as they are in the Hebrew, “bursts and bubbles over with a good matter”. He is “moved” or inspired “by the Holy Ghost”, a phrase which in itself implies the same irresistible impulse to speak what was thus communicated to him, for the very word ghost—geist—is the same as the heaving, fermenting yeast, or the boiling, steaming geyser. He is, in fact, constrained to be the “proclaimer”, or the “announcer”, and thus corresponds closely to the idea embodied in the Greek word “prophet”—“one who speaks for another”, that is, for God; or in the Roman “vates”, “the speaker”. The idea of foretelling is thus not fundamentally implied, though the revelation of the future, in many cases through the prophet, must have connected this sense also with the word from the first. Strictly, however, he is simply the “mouth” or “spokesman” for God, as Aaron was for Moses. What he utters is in no way his own; it is “the word of Jehovah”, in whom, for the time, his own personality is lost. Jehovah “puts His words in his mouth”, nor can he speak as a prophet till a message is thus communicated to him from above. Sometimes, indeed, he receives no “vision” even when one was expected. The Spirit of God, from whom flows all natural and spiritual life, is specially indicated in Scripture as the source of prophetical inspiration. He “comes” on the prophet, “rests “ on him, “fills him with power”, inspires him, or creates him “a man of the Spirit”, making him speak as he is “moved”, that is, literally borne along, as a ship is before the wind, by the resistless power of “the Holy Ghost”. The “hand of Jehovah” is on him and overpowers him, so that he “can but prophesy”, even when he has to do so against his will. In many cases, when thus filled with the prophetic spirit, he passes into a state of high mental excitement. Thus Saul, when for the time inspired, was so affected as to tear the clothes from his body, “and fall down naked all that day and all that night”. He “hears the word of God, and sees the vision of the Almighty, falling down”, prostrated by the prophetic impulse, but “having his eyes open”. To use the words applied to Saul, he was “turned into another man”. So often indeed did this happen, that the people not unfrequently spoke of a prophet as one who was mad. The word used for Saul’s prophesying is that for being frenzied or insane. In Daniel’s case the prophetic vision overpowered him, and brought on sickness for days. Revelations frequently came in dreams, which were recognized as from God, but this was a lower form of inspiration; the greatest prophets commonly receiving the Divine communications when awake. The spirit was cut off from the outer world, but the eye saw and the ear heard what the senses could not perceive, when the prophetic impulse was absent. It was in fact a vision, but the human intellect was not clouded, though carried beyond its common sphere. The prophet remembered the vision after it ended; and, even while it lasted, the clearest personal consciousness and all the emotions remained as active as in ordinary men, though intercourse with the world around was for the time interrupted.

While thus, in a sense, passive and merely receptive, the prophet needed special fitness and preparation for his office. But these were in no way external. He might be of any social rank, or appear in any part of the land. Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Zechariah, and John the Baptist were priests; Moses, Samuel, Jahaziel, Heman, and apparently Joel, were Levites, yet there was nothing sacerdotal even in them: unlike the Egyptian prophets, who were a class of priests. But the great majority were laymen. Moses, Deborah, and Samuel were the heads of the nation under the old theoc­racy; Saul and David were kings. Elisha was a rich land­owner, with servants and cattle. Elijah comes before us like a wandering Bedouin. Amos was a shepherd at Tekoah, ten miles south of Jerusalem, and a gatherer of sycamore fruit, or rather “a cutter”, for the “figs” of the sycamore are too bitter for eating till they have been cut into, so that the acrid juice may ooze out for some days. Than such a calling, it need not be said, there could scarcely be a more humble. Women as well as men were filled with the prophetic impulse—Miriam, Deborah, Huldah, Anna, and the four daughters of Philip. The claim of Israel to be a nation of priests and a holy people, received no grander vindication than in the choice of prophets from among all the tribes, and over the whole land. There could be no caste in a community thus impartially honoured by God—all must be equal before Him. Samuel came from the mountains of Ephraim; Gad and Nathan seem to have lived in Jerusalem. After the division of the kingdom, prophets were for a time most numerous among the ten tribes, Judah holding more firmly to the theocracy. In the rapidly apostatizing northern kingdom, Shiloh, Bethel, Samaria, Naphtali, Gilead, Issachar, and Zebulon, alike, saw prophets rise in their midst. But when the ten tribes had been led into captivity, and Judah itself was fast sinking into heathenism, not only Jerusalem, but many localities near it, saw men rise, on whom the mysterious gifts of the prophetic spirit had been bestowed.

As Wycliffe and Wesley promoted their great movements in England by the appointment of a body of evangelists, who should spread through the country the doctrines taught by their masters, Samuel established what modern divines have called “Schools of the Prophets”, to promote the reformation so near his heart. That such institutions should be possible, is a noteworthy proof that there must, already, have been a vigorous revival of religious life, for they could nourish only when there was a sympathy with spiritual truth. Of their origin, aim, constitution, and history, the Old Testament gives few details. Those who attended them were known as “sons” or “disciples”, a term afterwards used for the followers of a Rabbi, and their chief for the time was called “father”. Most of them seem to have been young, and indeed are spoken of as such. They lived in communities, ate in common, went abroad in companies, and were so numerous, at least at a later time, that Ahab could assemble 400 at once; that 100 were hidden in a cave by Obadiah; that 100 are mentioned in connection with the community at Jericho; and 100 more who, at the same period, lived at Gilgal. The only “schools” of which we know were at Ramah, Samuel’s town in the hills of Ephraim, at Bethel and Gilgal—also in Ephraim—and at Gibeah and Jericho in the tribe of Benjamin, places in the heart of the land. All the prophets, however, at least in after times, did not live in these centres, for Isaiah had a house in Jerusalem, and Elisha his in Samaria. The great local prophetic settlements were under the care of older and well-known prophets, to whom the “sons” rendered due obedience and respect, members of the company waiting on them as their personal attendants when they went abroad. Nor was fatherly care wanting towards them in return, for Elisha at one time fed no fewer than a hundred, and on one dying, provided his widow means of pay­ing his debts. They lived apparently, in some cases, by agriculture or cattle feeding; and, doubtless, in many others, like the Rabbis in later ages, by their own industry in various callings, though they also received modest gifts from those who visited them. Admission to a company appears to have been readily granted, where there seemed to be a spiritual fitness for the prophet’s life. They were generally married, as we know from the instances of Moses, Deborah, Samuel, David, Nathan, Ahijah, Hosea, Isaiah, and Ezekiel; leaving the community perhaps, as a rule, on their marriage, but sometimes remaining connected with it even after.

The object of these associations, as founded by Samuel, was, pre-eminently, to further the great movement for re­storing and firmly establishing the ancient faith. Of the special pursuits which engaged them little is told; but we may be certain that, among others, music and singing were included, as aids to heighten the emotions, and rouse themselves and their hearers to a higher religious sensibility. The chief study, however, was the Law, not only in the letter but in its spirit, as the one source of all true religious feeling, and the basis of comprehensive theocratic ideas. Under the constant influence of their head, a Master prophet, if we may so speak, this must have been of supreme influence in the development of their character and views. It would be a mistake, however, to think of all the prophets as necessarily trained in such schools, for Amos expressly tells us that he had had no connection with them, but had been seized by the prophetic impulse while engaged in his lowly calling. Skill in instrumental music, including that of the “psaltery, the tabret, the pipe, and the harp”, as an accompaniment to prophetic utterance or to religious hymns, distinguished the order. Its members must, moreover, in such communities, have acquired a varied knowledge of men and things, an intimate familiarity with the moral and spiritual aspects of the Law, habits of lowly devotion, and an earnest theocratic bias, of the greatest value for their future office. Even the associations around, the influence of their leader, the very spirit of the place, as subordinate aids to their efficiency, must have helped to mould them for their work. But the one vital necessity was that they should be in living communion of spirit with Jehovah, for such only could be His true prophets. That they should fear God was the first requirement, and, as it were, their public credential. Nor is it in any measure a proof to the contrary, that Balaam, after seeing Israel, was forced against his will to bless its hosts, and to predict their magnificent future. It is only an evidence of the resistless power of truth, even over the perverseness of heathen inclinations. The true prophet is always marked by his enthusiasm for God, His religion, His kingdom, His honour; by firm faith; deep love for His people; zeal and inflexible constancy in working for the Divine purposes; hatred of all that is evil, and the strictest purity, uprightness, and sincerity. Only the heart thus at one with God could be made His oracle. The communications vouchsafed must come, not as strange and unwelcome intrusions into the soul, but like a sudden light, or Divine assurance, entering a spirit already prepared to receive it.

In keeping with the dignity of their office, the prophets bore themselves as men moved by a higher than human impulse. They were the fearless champions of true religion, as embodied in the theocracy; struggling with a grand resoluteness for its interests wherever they seemed endangered. They claimed to counsel rulers, as the spokesmen for the King of kings, and to denounce the sins of all classes, as the representatives of eternal truth and righteousness. Samuel takes his place as by a divine right at the side of Saul, to advise and control in the name of the Highest. Nathan and Gad are the chosen monitors of David, and in later times the best and the worst kings alike find themselves commended or arraigned by these messengers of Jehovah. After the division of the kingdom, especially, a wider sphere opened for them; and the nearer the catastrophe of the ten tribes approached, the more vehemently did they raise their voice, denouncing, at one time, the ungodliness, the hypoc­risy, the immorality of their contemporaries; at another, the evil, selfish rule, and false policy, of kings and nobles; now, warning men of the impending judgments of Jehovah; now, painting the contrast between their own fallen and corrupt days, and the splendour of a Messianic future, when the theocracy would emerge, in unimagined glory, from its passing eclipse. Restlessly passing from town to town, as the occasion demanded, they appear in public places, in markets, at the city gates, in the streets, and in the courts of the Temple, bearing noble witness for God; fearlessly en­tering even the palaces of kings and nobles to deliver their message. They were at once the preachers of repentance to the nation, its counsellors, and its consolers; the interpret­ers of each forward step of God in the realization of His purposes; the exponents and enforcers of the Law in its highest sense; the reformers of a degenerate political and religious life; the censors of public authorities; and the guardians and protectors of all the higher interests of the community. Their office was thus a check on the despotism of kings, and the violence or injustice of the powerful; and at the same time, they were the tribunes of the people, defend­ing their liberties, while fearlessly denouncing their faults.

Such noble fidelity could not, however, hope to escape the resentment of those whom it assailed, and hence the story of the prophets is one of persecution and martyrdom. Venerated at first, while the glow of revived national purity and religiousness lasted, they were ere long hated when the spread of corruption made them the accusers of all classes in turn. Thus outlawed, as it were, they lived in constant danger of violence, and too often became its victims. Later generations, indeed, accused their forefathers of having “killed the prophets”, and spoke of their lives as subject to every indignity and wrong. They had trials of cruel mockings and scourgings, says the Epistle to the Hebrews; suffered bonds and imprisonment; were stoned, or sawn asunder; or burnt, or slain with the sword; or wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins, destitute, afflicted, tormented, in deserts, in mountains, in dens and caves of the earth.

The modes in which the prophets delivered their messages, though strange to our Western ideas, were in strict keeping with the spirit and manners of the East. Though simple and artless, as became those of men suddenly acted on by the Spirit of God, their utterances were marked by the rhythmic measure natural to Orientals, often passing into lofty verse, as when Isaiah tells his hearers that he will sing them a song, touching the vineyard of his well beloved. Poetry, indeed, was their usual vehicle. It appears first in the songs of Miriam and Moses, and bursts into its noon of splendour in the muse of David, who was followed by most of the prophets; their writings which have come down to us, being, with rare exceptions of occasional episodes, couched in poetical forms. They spoke or sang, in many cases, as we have seen, to the music of instruments, as when Elisha prophesied to the music of a minstrel’s harp; or when the company of prophets which met Saul “came down from the ‘high place’ or hill altar, with a psaltery, a tabret, a pipe, and a harp before them”. Physical excitement, strange to us, but familiar in the East, accompanied their “prophesyings”, and to this they added, not infrequently, symbolical actions, and even symbolical dress, to impress their messages more deeply on their audience. Such modes of teaching were, in fact, only acted parables, as when Samuel and Ahijah rent their cloaks, or when Jeremiah concealed his girdle, or Hananiah broke the yokes. But, like our Lord, they at times used the spoken parable as well, as in that of the Ewe Lamb, by Nathan, or of the Vine, by Isaiah. Their ordinary dress was a rough hairy mantle, as in the case of Elijah and John the Baptist, and this was so characteristic of the order, that the Epistle to the Hebrews refers to them as wearing sheep-skins and goat­skins. Indeed, in the Greek Bible, the mantle of Elijah is expressly said to have been of the former. A common girdle of leather, like that now worn by Eastern peasants, bound this round their persons : their costume forming, in its coarse simplicity, a contrast to the soft raiment of the rich, noticed by Christ Himself, in reference to His great precursor. Such humble clothing was in keeping with the stern earnestness of lives which were a protest against worldliness, in even its more innocent aspects, and won the respect of men by their evident sincerity. The Baptist took no part in the pleasures of the table, and Jeremiah tells us he withdrew from all festivities, and ate alone. They often betook themselves to hills and mountains, or lonely places, as if they liked to retire from the noise of the city and seek quiet, where their souls could better commune with God. But they were no monkish ascetics, or idle mendicants; though poor, as a rule, they maintained their wives and households by honest labour or private means, and were constantly seen in the haunts of men, carrying out their great work as opportunity allowed. Long hair and abstinence from wine, that is, the Nazarite vow, are said, by Josephus, to have marked them in the time of Samuel.

Their chief mission, as we have seen, was to keep the nation true to its allegiance to God as the Head of the theocracy, and hence to oppose all idolatry, immorality, and merely formal religion. Spoken with such aims, their discourses breathe a spirituality and depth peculiarly their own. Entirely distinct from priests, they nevertheless, when necessary, performed what were, strictly speaking, priestly duties, such as sacrifice and intercession. But in later times, especially after the building of the Temple, the official observance of all theocratic forms became the exclusive right of the priesthood, while the representation of the theocracy in its spirit and essence fell to the prophets. Hence they naturally exalted moral above ceremonial duties, earnestly protesting against the separation of religion from morality, to which men in all ages are inclined. The ritualism of the Mosaic system tended constantly to supersede the inner religious life, and to check this, the prophets spared no efforts. “To obey”, says Samuel, “is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams”. “Thou desirest not sacrifice”, says David; “else would I give it. Thou delightest not in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit. Sacrifice and burnt offering Thou didst not desire. Then said I, Lo, I come, to do Thy will, 0 God”. “I desire mercy and not sacrifice”, says Hosea. “I hate, I despise your feast days”, says Amos, “and I will not smell in your solemn assemblies. Though ye offer Me burnt offerings, and 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 righteousness as a mighty stream”. “Your new moons, and your appointed feasts”, says Isaiah, “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 bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free?”. The teaching of all the prophets is in this strain. Sacrifices, fastings, and ablutions are valueless, compared with a worthy life. To fear God and walk humbly before Him; to do justly, to love mercy; to show uprightness and truth, are of more value with Jehovah than mere ceremonies or rites, even when prescribed by Himself.

But not only were the prophets the great preachers of Israel; we owe chiefly to them the inspired writings. They were the historians, and sacred poets, no less than the teachers, of their age. We read of the Acts of David, by Samuel, Gad, and Nathan; of Solomon and Jeroboam, by Nathan and Iddo; of Rehoboam, by Iddo and Shemaiah. Samuel wrote a book on the duties of a Jewish king; Iddo, a history of King Abijah; Jehu, another of Jehoshaphat; and Isaiah, of Uzziah. It may be that our present historical books were drawn from these sources among others, but had these documents come down to us, how priceless their value! In the earlier ages prophecies were apparently only spoken; though, doubtless, often afterwards written down by “sons” or disciples, as those of Jeremiah by Baruch. In later times, however, they seem to have been sometimes written before delivery, as in those of Ezekiel, and some parts of Isaiah.

Such an institution, apart from its priceless services to revelation, must have been of immense value in a nation exposed to Oriental despotism. The ancient popular liberties found in it their natural defenders; it was the great help to progress, and the triumphant opponent of many a wrong. The only approach in modern times to anything analogous, seems to be found in a few of the best of the dervishes of Mohammedanism, as they appear among the simpler races of Central Asia. “Without them”, says Dr. Wolff, “no man would be safe. They are the chief people in the East, and keep in the recollection of Oriental despots, that there are ties between heaven and earth. They restrain the tyrant in his oppression of his subject; they are consulted by courts and by counsellors of state in times of emergency, and are, in fact, the great benefactors of the human race in the East”. “The name”, he adds, “comes from daer, door, and wesh, hanging, and means one who hangs at the gate of God, is inspired by Him, and trusts His bounty. They strip and go naked like Isaiah; they sit at the gate; are consulted by kings; sit wrapped in their mantles in deep meditation, and, like Elijah, will answer: “I am filled with zeal for God”, or “I think of the time when the Restorer of all things will come, and the wolf and the lamb will lie down together”. They have each a disciple, as Elijah had Elisha, and have symbolical names expressing their relations to God. That of one, a friend of Wolff’s, was given him because his mother said on the day of his birth, “Thou shalt be a slave of the most merciful God”. A dervish signs himself, when he makes peace between kings, “the king of Righteousness” his spiritual title; exactly corresponding to “Melchizedek”. That personage produced wine and bread to Abraham, and thou, dear dervish, in the desert of Merv, broughtest out wine and sherbet to the weary wanderer, Joseph Wolff, and when he asked thee, who were thy father and mother? thou repliedst humbly, “I am without father or mother, for I have forsaken all, for God’s sake”.

At the head of an order thus concentrated on the things of God and superior to any worldly interests or distractions, Samuel’s great work of reformation in Israel must have been greatly facilitated. Like the preaching friars, in England, in the opening of the thirteenth century, in their first purity and self-denying enthusiasm, they brought religion into the fair and the market-place, and woke a zeal for it in the hearts of the nation, long sunk in ignorance or perverted to heathenism.

Another circumstance aided in raising the people. The great tribe of Judah had taken no share in the affairs of the nation at large during the whole period of the Judges. Isolated on the wide upland pastures of its territory, it was practically non-existent so far as the other tribes were concerned. It is not even mentioned in the triumphal ode of Deborah. It lived apart from its brethren, with no share either in their sorrows or joys, their struggles or victories. Settled among Kenites, Idumaeans, and Jebusites, the men of Judah may have had their own wars, but, if so, no notice of them remains. Simeon, its vassal tribe, shared its seclusion and fortunes. It was cut off from the rest of Israel by the Jebusites, who lived between the mountains of Ephraim and those of Judah. Renewed attacks of the Philistines on the central region, in which the southern districts were overwhelmed, appear first to have roused Judah and Simeon from their supineness. To free themselves from this ter­rible foe who had enslaved them, they seem to have sought an alliance with their brethren. Peace had been made between these and the Amorites, perhaps from common dread of the Philistines : Samuel had risen into universal notice as the leader of the nation, and union with it would strengthen the interests of all, especially since Judah had gradually pressed farther north, and now occupied Bethlehem, close to Jebus; its former settlements reaching only to Hebron.

Hence, in Samuel’s day, Judah and Simeon acted with the other tribes, and this alliance brought a new and potent element into the struggle for liberty. Judah had few towns in its territory, and had thus escaped the enervation of town life. Its only place of importance was Hebron; the other settlements were merely villages. The corruption introduced in other parts from intercourse with the Phoenicians was thus unknown in the south. Baal and Astarte, with their impurities, had not found a footing there; the population remaining in great measure, what they had been since the conquest, simple shepherds, cherishing their freedom and defending it as they best could, but careless of warlike glory and without ambition. The manners of the patriarchal time had, in fact, lingered in Judah when lost elsewhere.

And as with the manners, so with religion. The sections of the tribe seem to have had, each, its own place of offering. Hebron, at least, boasted such a sanctuary. But the ritual had remained simple, and the God of Israel was the recognized object of worship. Beersheba, on the south, appears to have been a religious centre for Judah and also for Simeon; perhaps from its having been hallowed by the altars of Abraham and Isaac. Indeed, it retained its character as such after the Temple had been built, pilgrimages being even then made to it.  Heathen ideas may in some measure have mingled with the local worship and manners, for idolatrous races not only surrounded the district, but lived in it and were connected with the Hebrew population by intermarriages, though its simplicity saved it from the worst heathen corruptions. Hence reunion with the nation at large was of great moment.

Yet without the commanding influence and personality of Samuel no political strengthening or religious revival would have availed to deliver and regenerate Israel. But he had all the qualities needed. More a man of strong will and action, than of meditation, he had seen from the first that his work lay in raising and ennobling the moral and religious feelings of his race; and the patient labours of twenty years slowly justified his course, by a wide revival of national obedience to the Law, as that of God, the theocratic King. Everything opposed to it was fiercely proscribed. Irregular worship, like that of Micah or of Dan, was no longer permitted. A Nazarite from his birth, and surrounded by others who had taken the same vow, Samuel demanded from the nation the devotion to the ancient faith he himself showed. Filled with intense zeal, his enthusiasm gradually fired that of the multitude. Nor was the absence of the Ark at Kirjath-jearim, where it rested in a private house, and was virtually withdrawn from the nation, without a strong influence in reviving religious feeling. All Israel came ultimately “to lament after Jehovah”, thus, as it were, no longer in their midst. Yet, with all helps of subordinate co-workers and circumstances, the triumph must have been very gradual. In the first years there could hardly have been a hope of the amazing revolution ultimately effected. But the spiritual leaven was meanwhile steadily spreading, and long before Samuel's death the nation had once more rallied to its ancient faith, with an earnestness which influenced the whole future of the race.

The signs of a great religious revolution having become evident, Samuel could at last announce to the tribes, that if they returned to Jehovah with all their hearts, putting away the foreign idols from among them, and preparing their hearts for Jehovah and serving Him only, He would deliver them out of the hand of the Philistines. Nor was the counsel unheeded. Far and near, through the land, the numerous images of Baal and Ashtaroth, with their foul groves and licentious symbols, were swept away, and the nation was ready to proclaim that, henceforth, it would serve Jehovah alone.

It only remained to inaugurate this reformation by a public solemnity, and for this purpose Samuel, acting as Head of the tribes, convened a great assembly of the congregation of Israel at Mizpeh, the Look-out or “Watch-tower”, now Nebi Samwil, the home of the prophet Samuel—a hill about four miles north of Jerusalem, 2,935 feet above the sea, as previously stated, though only 500 feet above the plain below, and already the politico-religious centre of the nation in these distracted times. The Tabernacle, saved from the burning of Shiloh, had apparently been re-erected on this spot, though it did not boast of the Ark. The assembly that declared war against Benjamin had met on the same spot, which was also, ere long, to witness the election of Saul as king. Nor could any place have been better for the purpose. The highest summit in the district, it commands a view as far as the Mediterranean on the west, and the mountains of Moab on the east, while the range of landscape is equally grand to the north and south. If Israel met him there, Samuel would, he told them, intercede with Jehovah for them, if, haply, He would once more turn His face toward them. Vast multitudes obeyed the summons, for the “congregation” of the tribes included all Israelites over twenty years old, the elders of each clan or its sections sending out the call, which was eagerly obeyed, the whole male popula­tion, apparently, hastening to the rendezvous, where they fervently joined in a solemn public humiliation. Pouring out water “before the Lord”, in confirmation of the vow they were about to make, which was thus declared as irrevocable as the act of spilling the water on the ground, they fasted, as on the great Day of Atonement, and sadly owned, doubtless with loud weeping, that they had sinned against Jehovah. On this, Samuel, thankful to plead for them, now that they were returning to their God, “cried” to Him on their behalf, accompanying his intercession with sacrifice. That the repentance was sincere was proved by the future; for, notwithstanding temporary declensions, the nation, henceforth, never fell away from God to the same extent as in the past. From the gathering at Mizpeh may be dated its fidelity to its ancient faith. Samuel had quickened into new life the almost abandoned work of Moses.

The transactions at Mizpeh continued long enough to alarm the Philistines by such a sign of revived national life, and to give them time to send forward an army to disperse the gathering. The smoke of the sacrifice offered by Samuel was still ascending when the approaching enemy was seen from the high look-out of the hill. The Hebrews had brought with them what arms they had, and, strong in the enthusiasm of the time, charged down with a fury which spread panic through the Philistine ranks. It was the time of wheat harvest, the end of May or the beginning of June, and in ordinary seasons, rain never falls, from the cessation of the “latter” showers in spring till the commencement of the “early” rains in October or November; so that rain in harvest, became an expression for anything unexpected or out of place. But now, a terrible thunder-storm broke over the landscape, as if the Jewish God were fighting for His people and uttering His awful voice in their support.

Routed and fleeing for the first time before Israel, the invaders found no pity, the pursuit continuing to the very edge of their own district. A long peace was the result of this great victory, which Samuel commemorated by a memorial stone, which he called Ebenezer, “the stone of help”, raised in acknowledgment of the aid he had received from God, in answer to his prayers and those of Israel. Twenty years before, the Hebrews had fought in the same spot the momentous battle in which the Ark was captured by the Philistines, after a second defeat of Israel by them, so that the field of disaster having become the scene of victory, naturally called for some religious and historical commemoration. How deeply this had impressed itself on the general mind is curiously shown by the battleground being already spoken of in advance, by the name of the stone, though it was not raised till so long after. The restoration of a number of Hebrew towns on the border of the Maritime Plain followed, but the southern tribes seem still to have been left in the hands of the Philistines, if we may judge by their helpless slavery in the early days of Saul.

In reality the Head of the nation long before the gather­ing at Mizpeh, Samuel was there formally appointed its Judge, and thus combined in himself both civil and religious authority. Ebenezer, “the stone of help”, recalls the sacredness attached in antiquity to such memorials. Sacred stones are the oldest relic of worship. In Scripture we find them very early. Jacob raises several times a “Meahir” or Matzaibah—that is, a memorial stone—and at Bethel, anoints it with oil, just as the Greeks did on feast days, with sacred oil kept in the Temple of Apollo, at Delphi. Arnobius owns that, before he was a Christian, he could not keep from praying to a stone thus anointed, when he saw one. Altars, moreover, were built only of unhewn stones. Joshua made a stone circle on the Jordan, for Gilgal means such a circle; and Jacob, a stone memorial on Mount Gilead. Gideon poured out a libation on the rock; Saul sacrificed on a great stone, and the tables of Gad, thrown down by Hezekiah and Josiah, may well have been dolmens, like those now so common on the east of the Jordan, for Gad is equivalent to “the god of good fortune”. The Arabs, before the time of Mohammed, consecrated stones as idols, or emblems of their divinities, the name then used for them still surviving in the encampments. The black stone of Venus at Mecca, and the red stone of her companion Hobal, the stones of Asaf and Nailah, and that of Khalasah, near the Kaabah, are among the most famous examples, and it is very remarkable that the red stone of Hobal is said to have been brought from Moab to Mecca. Such stone worship was of great antiquity in Arabia. The Nabatheans at Petra worshipped a square black stone before the Christian era, and Herodotus speaks of seven stones which the Arabs swore by, and sprinkled with blood. Antonius Martyr (600 A.D.) was shown such a stone in Horeb, and the existing Sakhrah at Jerusalem must not be forgotten, for the Arabs consecrated both rocks and cubical stones alike to Allat or Mena. Seven stones also surrounded the Kaabah, and Arab authorities state that they were smeared with the blood of sacrifices—a practice mentioned in early Arab poetry, while it is also alluded to by Herodotus. It appears probable that the human sacrifices, which we read of in Moab at so late a period, continued to be offered in Arabia almost as late as the time of Mohammed. But there was never anything like such sacrifices, among the Hebrews, except when, as in the case of Jephthah, or the idolatrous multitude under the later kings, they imported into their religious usage the terrible customs of surrounding heathen nations. Moses raised twelve memorial stones when the tribes formally entered into covenant to worship and obey Jehovah as their God, and Isaiah says that when Egypt turned to Him, a “pillar” or Matzaibah would be erected at its border, to Jehovah, “as a sign and a witness to Him”.

Such pillars, as has been said, were habitually used in connection with the Sun, or Baal, worship in Palestine and elsewhere. On a gem in the British Museum, Sin, the god of Haran, is represented by a conical stone surmounted by a star, and the “pillars of the Sun” were stones of a like form. When the Phoenician temple on the island of Gozo was excavated, two such columns were found. In Solomon's temple, built as it was by Phoenician workmen, there weretwo columns of stone, Yakin (Iachin) and Boaz, set on either side of the porch. When Jehu destroyed the Temple of Baal in Samaria, the Sun “pillars” were cast out and destroyed. Hence they are often denounced as idolatrous, and, as such, commanded to be cast down. While, of course, their erection by Hebrews was forbidden, they were, nevertheless, raised in great numbers during the reign of idolatrous kings, but under kings who honoured Jehovah they were repeatedly broken down; as for example, by Asa, Hezekiah, and Josiah, the people themselves, at times, uniting in the work of destruction; the result being that while there are hundreds of dolmens, menhirs, and cromlechs on the east side of the Jordan, there are none in Palestine.

IV.

THE FIRST HEBREW KING.

LITTLE is known of the history of Samuel in the years immediately succeeding the victory of Ebenezer; which, it is evident, greatly dispirited the Philistines, and secured the peace of central Palestine during the prophet’s lifetime, though the southern tribes remained under the yoke of the uncircumcised. Meanwhile, his bands of evangelists continued their labours unweariedly. He himself, also, made circuits year by year from his home in Ramah, his native town, to the ancient sanctuaries of Bethel, Gilgal, and Mizpeh, Shiloh being no longer the national centre; and “judged”—or, as Graetz renders it, “taught”—Israel at these places. Their nearness to each other shows, however, that little of the country was under his control, or as yet acted together, for Gilgal is only about fourteen miles east of Mizpeh, and Bethel lies midway between them, about seven miles to the north. As in former years, he probably summoned to him, on these journeys, the elders of the peo­ple, laid before them their duties, reminded them of the miseries of the past when they had forsaken Jehovah and turned to idols, and warned them against any relapse. He would also hear and decide questions between man and man, and he further acted as priest; sacrificing on the altars which had been built at Ramah and the other towns of his “circuit”.

But a new feature in the worship of Israel now added its influence, to aid the plans of the great prophet. With the help of the “sons” of the prophets, he introduced psalms, choruses, and musical accompaniments, which tended powerfully to stimulate religious feeling. The psalm of praise thus became a prominent part of the worship of God, Samuel himself, the forefather of the race of Korah, famous in later days as composers of psalms, and of music for them, probably leading the first choirs. His race indeed was mu­sical, for his grandson Heman, with Asaph and Jeduthun, were the great religious poets and musicians of the next generation. Long before the rise of Grecian poetry or music, the hills and valleys of Palestine echoed with lofty hymns, sung to the notes of many instruments. Mere ritualism did not satisfy the reformer; everything was adopted that tended to give religion its seat in the affections and life.

Meanwhile, the destruction of Shiloh had caused a great change in the public worship of the nation. Ahitub, a grandson of Eli, the elder brother of the child born at the news of the taking of the Ark, had fled with the rescued Tabernacle to Nob, taking with him the high-priestly robes and the ephod, with the Urim and Thummim. There, he seems, also, to have made an unauthorized copy of the Ark, of course without its most precious distinction, the stone tables of the commandments given at Sinai. Henceforth, for many years, this spot became to some extent the religious centre of the land. Shiloh had been so for 369 years.

In the later years of Samuel’s life, his sphere of action had extended so far to the south that his sons were appointed by him, in his growing feebleness, to act in his stead as “Judges” at Beersheba, on the edge of the desert, but we hear nothing of the northern tribes, or of those beyond Jordan.

It is difficult to realize the greatness of a historic figure after three thousand years, but Samuel must have been more than the Luther of his day. Uniting in himself all the highest offices of his nation—its supreme prophet, its virtual high priest, and its acknowledged ruler—his influence was intensified by the lofty singleness of his life and aim. Men could not forget, as his age increased, how Jehovah had chosen to make revelations through him while he was yet a child; how he had grown up in the sacred shadow of the Tabernacle; how he had been a Nazarite from his birth; how fearless and loyal had been his enthusiasm for Jehovah; how incorruptible he had been as a Judge; and how well his life had illustrated the high morality and god­liness he had enforced. They had seen the religious revolu­tion he had accomplished. The state as a whole, in its great characteristics, owed, in fact, its noble future to his work, for he had in effect founded the order of prophets; he had prepared the way for the kings; and his revival of the Mosaic religion brought with it the future temple and its priesthood. Before his time Israel had had no real national existence, and seemed likely to perish entirely; yet he left it proud of its dignity as the People of God, and on the threshold of its highest glory under David.

But the life thus rekindled was soon found to demand new political institutions. The new wine must be put into new bottles. All the evils of the past seemed likely to return at Samuel's death, for his sons had proved themselves venal in their office as Judges, and had forfeited public confidence and respect. The peace that had prevailed since the battle of Ebenezer had served to strengthen the Reforma­tion, but it had also quickened the desire for national union, and this was endangered under the old forms of the theocracy, which provided no permanent central authority. Judah and Benjamin were still under the Philistines, and a stronger and better denned government than, that of a Judge was needed, to gather all the force, of Israel for their deliverance. Most of the neighbouring peoples had kings, for even the five Seranim of the Philistine towns were lords of their respective districts, acting together in their relentless hostility to the Hebrews, and they had latterly chosen the ruler of Gath as head of the whole Philistine country. The wish for a king, which had shown itself nearly two hundred years before in connection with Gideon, had been slowly growing since then and was now well-nigh universal, but Samuel’s position and the profound respect in which he was held made it difficult to carry out. No one thought of displacing him, and no one but he could secure for a king the necessary authority and a hearty acceptance. Another great assembly of the elders of the tribes was therefore held, doubtless after much consultation over the country at large, and Samuel was waited on by them at his home at Ramah, with the earnest request that, as his sons had not proved like himself, he would appoint a king over Israel such as ruled the nations around.

Such a demand must have been intensely unwelcome to the aged prophet. He had devoted his life to the restoration of the theocracy as it had been instituted under Moses, and the change to a monarchy seemed irreconcilable with it. It appeared, indeed, a rejection of Jehovah, whom alone he recognized as their King. The whole nation, he feared, would be exposed to the craft and the caprice of a single man. The equality of all before God and the law, and the independence of each family, under its patriarchal head, would be destroyed. The kings around were lawless despots, and Israel would find royalty equally fatal. The king would take the choicest young men for his chariots and horses, or for runners before him. He would levy forced labour to cultivate the crown lands, to make arms for war, and chariots. Even the young women would be taken to make spices and perfumes, to cook, and to bake. Far and near he would wrest to himself what lands he chose, and give them to his courtiers. He would take a tenth of all produce as a tax to support his favourites. He would carry off for his service or use the male and female servants, the goodliest cattle and the asses, and he would take the sheep. In fact, the nation would become his slaves.

But the greatness of Samuel’s character is shown in nothing more strikingly than that, after finding the change had the sanction of God, he not only waived further opposition, but led the new movement, with calm wisdom, to a success­ful issue. He could no longer hope to be so great a personage as in the past, but that did not concern him. Notwith­standing his antecedents and deep-rooted convictions, if a king were inevitable he would frankly seek the right man, surrounding him at the same time with such checks against his playing the despot, or invading the supreme rights of Jehovah, as should secure alike the welfare of the people and the stability of the national faith. He would not yield, however, without attempting to dissuade the people he loved so well from a course which he believed so dangerous. Pointing out to an assembly at Ramah the evils that would follow the change to a monarchy, he urged them earnestly to continue as they were. But the time had come for such a development of the ancient institutions, and not even his honoured voice could avail to alter the wish of the nation.

Such a ruler would necessarily stand in a unique position. As only the viceroy and representative of the true invisible King, Jehovah, he must be pointed out beforehand by special indications, and consecrated as to a sacred office. That he should, moreover, have commended himself to the nation by his qualities and deeds, was essential. Nor could it be permitted him to reign like other Eastern kings, by his mere pleasure; for the rights of Jehovah and those of His people, as a nation of freemen, demanded equal respect. He must, therefore, at all times, remember that he ruled under a higher King, whose will, expressed in His revealed law, was his absolute guide both in religion and ordinary life; its transgression, in any particular, being self-destruction. But such a man would necessarily be in loving sympathy with Him under whom he held his authority, to be a king after His heart; a man truly religious; obeying, not by mere outward constraint, but from loving choice. To find such an one would at all times be difficult, and too often impossible. All that could be done, therefore, was to make the best selection that offered, and remove him from his high dignity if he failed to answer the conditions of retaining it.

The all-important choice fell upon Saul, a member of the tribe of Benjamin—the smallest of the tribes of Israel; perhaps in the thought that there would be less danger of a Benjamite overriding the limits of his just power by any local influence, or of the tribe itself obtaining an undue preponderance. The personage selected, moreover, showed no signs of ambition or self-assertion. His clan—that of Matri —was one of the smallest in Benjamin, but his father, Kish, was known as a valiant man, powerful and wealthy from his lands and herds; one from whose family, in times when as yet there was no hereditary circle of royal birth, the future ruler could well be chosen. And, indeed, in the son of Kish, the various qualities demanded appeared to centre. Of gigantic stature, in the prime of life, and noble alike in features and bearing, he realized the ideal of a king of men as conceived in antiquity. Men thought fondly of him, after his death, as the roe or gazelle of Israel, the emblem of swiftness and grace, of beauty and gentleness. He was now about forty years old, with a grown-up son, and modestly busied himself in his father’s fields or in tending his herds, with no thoughts, apparently, beyond his own valley or hamlet; though from Samuel’s language to him afterwards, that he would tell him all that was in his heart, it is possible that, like Joan of Arc when with her flock, Saul, while following his plough, may have been long brooding over the oppression of his country, and thinking how he might free it. His father’s house was still his home, and he remained under paternal authority; for the patriarchal custom still survived by which the son attained self-control only after his father’s death. Such a man seemed little likely to be self-willed, or to hesitate in accepting the guidance of a prophet like Samuel, when raised to the highest post. His home must, one would think, have been like that of the Sheik of Thebes, whom I found living in a mud-walled enclosure, inside which was not only his own modest house, but room had been found for humble dwellings for all his married sons and daughters, and their children, in all not fewer than forty persons, old and young; the whole of them, I was assured, living in peace and harmony with each other.

The circumstances of his selection were in keeping with the simplicity of the age. A drove of his father’s asses having strayed, Saul, accompanied by a slave, was sent to find and bring them back. Three days passed, however, without their tracking them, and he was on the point of return­ing empty-handed, when his attendant urged him to try if the great prophet Samuel could not help him. Even on such trivial details men were then wont to “enquire of God”. The indispensable prerequisite of a “gift” to the seer stood, however, in the way. A cake of bread would have been enough; for in this case no more was expected than a mere form demanded by Eastern courtesy. But the future king had not even so much left. The fourth part of a shekel of silver, which his slave had with him, served, however, instead, and, with this in their hand, they climbed the steep hill road to the prophet’s “city”. It was towards evening, when the maidens were coming out to draw water from the town well, and from them they heard that Samuel was to offer the periodical public sacrifices at the public “high place” that day—probably the day of the New Moon —and to preside at the usual feast on the remains of the victims, in a circle of invited guests.

Meanwhile the prophet was equally eager to meet Saul, for a Divine intimation had been given him that the Benjamite who should that day seek him was to be the king of Israel. An invitation to the feast, therefore, naturally followed; lower cares were dismissed by an announcement that the asses were found, and the modest wonder of Saul raised by the seer telling him that he was “the desire of Israel”. That he, a Benjamite, and of the most insig­nificant clan of the smallest tribe, should have such honour, seemed incredible. He was treated, however, with the greatest respect at the feast, the choicest part being put first before him, that he might tear off a portion. He was afterwards taken home by Samuel for the night. Next morning, “about the spring of day” both were astir, for early habits prevail in the East, and outside the “city”, the man having been sent on before, Saul received the sacred kingly anointing, and was dismissed to his home, with various intimations, the fulfilment of which would confirm his being divinely chosen for the high office. Two men “by Rachel’s sepulchre” informed him that the asses were found. At the terebinth of Tabor—a spot not yet identified —three others, “going up to God to Bethel”, gave him, as if in homage, two loaves out of three which, with three kids and a skin of wine, they were carrying thither as an offering. Finally, at “Gibeah of God”—in the authorized version, “the hill of God”—the same place, it would seem, as Geba, now the village Jeba, of Benjamin, near Michmash, where a post of the Philistines was stationed, a band of prophets, singing to the music of instruments, met him as they came down the hill from the high place, where they had been worshipping or sacrificing. Excited by all that had happened, a crowd of emotions to which he had hitherto been a stranger agitated his mind, rousing thoughts of which he had hitherto never dreamed. The religious fer­vour of the prophets was irresistible. The Spirit of God came upon Saul, and he also prophesied. That one silent and reserved till now should kindle into such enthusiasm might well seem strange to those around, ignorant as they were of what had gone before. It was, however, the crisis of his spiritual life, Religious feeling had hitherto only slumbered in his bosom. From this time it became the ruling power, though his after-life showed that, however intense, it was superficial, and left his deeper nature essentially unchanged, he had been “turned into another man”. No longer the mere villager, he felt himself called to lead the nation. His soul woke into new manhood, now that he was intrusted with a commission to deliver his people. But as yet he said nothing, even in his family circle. He was wait­ing for an outward call—the counterpart of that which he had received within.

The ancient liberties of the nation, meanwhile, demanded a public sanction of that which had been done in private by Samuel, though it was certain that this would at once be enthusiastically accorded. A great national assembly was therefore summoned to the usual centre at Mizpeh, that the prophet might present “the chosen of God” before the freemen of Israel, for acceptance as their head. But the honour was as yet too great for the shy nature of Saul, and he was nowhere to be seen, till at last found hiding among the circle of waggons and baggage drawn up outside. Once beheld, however, his magnificent presence won instant alle­giance, except from a few, in all probability of the ambi­tious tribe of Ephraim—and the air was rent for the first time in Israel by the loud cry, “God save the king”. But Samuel, true, as became a prophet, at once to ancient popular rights and to the claims of Jehovah, the invisible King, would not allow an unconditional election. Expounding the principles of the constitution in an earnest address, he strictly limited and defined the royal power, afterwards writing down his words in a book duly laid up “before Jehovah”—presumably in the Ark, along with the other national archives already preserved there—as the supreme authority to which all future kings should have to bow. What a treasure, if it were still extant!

It was a turning-point in the history of Israel, and the almost unbroken unanimity of the multitude augured well for the future. The gifts demanded from all on such an occasion, as an act of homage, were eagerly proffered, only a few holding back; but of these, on such an occasion, Saul took no notice. Setting off, escorted by the fighting men of the host, to his home at Gibeah—a village, according to Robinson, on the height called now Tel el Ful, two and a half miles north of Jerusalem; by others as a hill town four miles north of the present Jerusalem, and two miles south of Samuel’s village of Ramah—he dismissed them for the time on reaching it, and modestly entered again on the peaceful toils of his former life, till the moment arrived for action.

The name “Saul”, by which the first Hebrew king is known to us, becomes significant when we remember that Jewish kings, and, indeed, all Jews, had a public as well as a private name. The one chosen by the son of Kish is given in Genesis as that of the ruling chiefs of Edom, who had come from Rehoboth, a word meaning the public squares and suburbs of the capital, and is thus used of Nineveh; but as the river—that is, the Euphrates—is mentioned in connection with the place from which the Edomite ruler came, this Rehoboth must have been part of Babylon. One of the principal names of the Sun-god, however, at Babylon, was Savul, or Sawal, which in Hebrew characters would become “Saul”, and this god would seem, therefore, to have been worshipped in Edom, from its ruler assuming its name as his own public title. Perhaps, also, the worship had spread to Palestine, so near at hand, and the Hebrew king would thus bear the name of the Babylonian god, by its having be­come familiar round him. The kings of Edom seem to have been accustomed to assume the names of gods they honoured, as the two who are named after Saul, in Genesis, are Baal-hanan, “the favour of Baal”, and Hadad, not Hadar, a Syrian god, but probably also a god of Edom. He was the supreme Sun-god, higher even than “Saul”.

The position of Israel seemed so desperate that only a leader roused to the highest enthusiasm would have dared to undertake its cause. Disarming of the people had long been complete. It was a repetition of the time of Deborah, when neither shield nor spear could be seen in 40,000 in Israel. The very sickles, coulters, axes, and goads, could be sharpened only in the Philistine towns at the foot of the hills. Saul and Jonathan alone had swords. Tribute officers of the conquerors oppressed the people, and their garrisons checked any hope of resistance. So entirely subdued, indeed, was Benjamin, that part of the tribe served in the Philistine ranks against their brethren. Only the favour of Providence could bring deliverance; but this was before long vouchsafed through Saul, and his illustrious son Jonathan.

That hero, one of the most attractive in the Old Testa­ment, was now in the bloom of his early manhood, and already famous for his strength, swiftness of foot, and manly agility. His skill with the bow was proverbial, and he doubtless excelled also in the other martial exercises of his tribe, “the use of the right hand and the left in hurling stones and in shooting arrows”. His father and he were inseparably attached, the two always appearing in the narrative together. Inexpressibly dear to Saul, he dared not ask leave when about to imperil himself. There was “nothing, great or small”, which Saul did not tell him. In after years he yielded to his son’s voice even in the par­oxysms of frenzy which often overpowered him, and at last “in death they were not divided”. It seems, indeed, as if the son would have been fitter for king than his father. Brave to excess, he had a winning affection and mildness, and a heart proverbial for the fidelity of its attachments. His only failing, indeed, as the heir to the kingdom, seems to have been the womanly gentleness of his nature, ever too ready to yield, and shrinking from the harsher parts of kingly duty at such a time. He was the popular idol.

Abner, Saul’s cousin, was another hero in the impending war of liberation; a man valiant in battle, and true to his master, even after the fall of the royal house. Other members, also of the family and tribe, proud of the honour done them by Saul’s election, eagerly rallied round him, and formed the nucleus of an army.

It is difficult to understand the order of events in the opening of the reign. A rapid expedition against the Ammonites comes first in the narrative as it stands; but it is not easy to imagine how the vast numbers who took part in it, could have gathered, while such a condition of things existed, as is described in the subsequent chapters. Details may, however, have been omitted which would have explained the apparent confusion, and it is therefore safer to follow the order given.

In the long interval of 150 years since the death of Jephthah, their dreaded enemy, the people of Ammon, more settled and civilized than the Israelite shepherd tribes east of the Jordan, had not only recovered themselves, but under Nahash—“the serpent”—their king, were rapidly conquering the Hebrew territory. Their doings, in fact, had first brought to a head the demand for a king over Israel, to repel their possible invasion of central Palestine; but, though that had not taken place, their violence to the trans-Jordanic tribes roused the kindling spirit of nationality through the land.

Among the richly wooded hills of Gilead, on the south side of the Wady Jabis, rose the town of Jabesh, afterwards the capital of the district. Thick forests of the “oaks of Bashan” still vary the landscape around; rich olive groves, patches of barley, and luxuriant pastures filling its open spaces, as the landscape sinks down towards the deep-lying Jordan. Jabesh was about fifteen miles southwest of Beth-shean, on the other side of the river. An old tie bound it to Benjamin, Saul's tribe, for four hundred of its young maidens had become the wives of the remnant who had escaped the terrible civil war in the days of the Judges.

One evening as Saul was “coming after the herd” out of the open common—for he still followed the humble duties of his earlier life—the loud wail, which in the East an­nounces some great calamity, suddenly met him. Runners had hurried from Jabesh Gilead to Gibeah—“Saul’s hill”— with news that Nahash had laid siege to their town, and had threatened, if help did not come to them in seven days, to thrust out all their right eyes, as a mark of contempt for Israel and to make them useless in war. Such tidings might well rouse a less excitable population. They proved the spark that kindled the dormant spirit of Saul. Of an unselfish nature, which never thought of excusing itself from a patriotic enterprise, his whole soul was moved, or, as the sacred narrative expresses it, “the Spirit of God came on him”, as on the ancient Judges, “mightily”. In a moment his self-distrust and shyness had vanished; the leader of men shone out in him from that hour. Repeating, in a less terrible form, the summons to war against his own tribe, sent through the land by the injured Levite long before, he forthwith slew two of the cattle he was driving home, and having divided them into twelve pieces, sent one to each of the tribes, commanding them to come out to the help of Jabesh Gilead, on peril of death, if they refused. It was the Hebrew anticipation of the fiery cross, which used to be sent far and near to gather to war the Highland clans of Scotland; its tip “scathed with fire” and “quenched in blood”, as an emblem of the fire and sword awaiting all who neglected its summons. Times had been, in the weak rule of the Judges, when even so terrible a threat might have failed to rouse the tribes. But it was now felt, that things were not as they had been in the past. The day was gone when every one could do what was right in his own eyes. The election of a king had raised over the nation a strong will, which it must obey. A vast multitude, therefore, streamed forthwith from all parts to the rendezvous. Passing at once over the Jordan, they assailed from three sides the Ammonites beleaguering Jabesh Gilead, driving them off in wild panic. To have delivered the town was not, however, the only result. Safety from any inroad of Nahash was henceforth secured for the lands west of the river.

Such a turn of the tide in Israel’s fortunes naturally raised the spirits and hopes of all to the highest, as an earnest of a brighter future, and greatly strengthened the hands of Saul. The change to a monarchy seemed to be already vindicated ; even Samuel lending it his support without further hesitation, and proposing that the election should be confirmed by a second great assembly held at Gilgal, on the Jordan, a spot safe from the Philistines. Once more, therefore, the people gathered to their open-air parliament, if we may so speak; this time in far greater numbers than at Mizpeh, everyone over twenty, and foreigners who had been admitted to clan­ship, being, as has been noticed, free to come. Sacrifices were duly offered, and Saul again officially anointed as king by Samuel, amidst a delirium of popular joy.

But the grand old prophet, though he had loyally carried out a revolution intensely distasteful to himself, would not let the opportunity pass without raising his voice once more, to warn all of their duty and responsibility, and justify his own career, which seemed to be challenged by the substitution of a monarchy for his rule. He had walked before them from his childhood, said he, and was now old and gray headed, but could call on every one present, to witness before God and His Anointed, if he had taken any man’s ox or ass, or defrauded or oppressed any one, or accepted, in any case, even so small a bribe as a pair of sandals, to blind his eyes to justice? A loud shout of assent to this self-vindication rose at once, in reply, from the vast multitude. Reminding them, next, of the Divine goodness shown in the past, in their deliverance from Pharaoh, Sisera, the Philistines, the king of Moab, the Midianites, and other enemies, by leaders raised by Providence, in answer to their penitent cry for help from above, he frankly told them that their conduct in now demanding a king seemed to him, in the light of such a retrospect, at once ungrateful and unwise : ungrateful, since it appeared a slight offered to Jehovah, their ever-living and glorious Lord; unwise, because it looked like trusting to a weak and mortal man, rather than in their Almighty, eternal Head, who had so gloriously fought for them from of old. Yet, in His infinite condescension, He had sanctioned their demand, and had given them a king as they had asked, though He himself remained the great Suzerain, whom that king only represented.

If they and their ruler implicitly obeyed Jehovah, He would uphold them; if they rebelled, His hand would be against them. The unusual phenomenon of a thunder­storm in the hottest month of the year, that of the wheat harvest, added solemnity to these weighty utterances, and filled all minds with terror, as their Divine corroboration. But Samuel quieted their fears, while renewing his warnings against forsaking God, and his assurances of blessing if they loyally followed Him. True to his character, above others, as a man of prayer, “he would not cease to plead for them, and teach them the good and right way”. He had once more set before them the true theory of the constitution, that they might not confound the new monarchy with that of neighbouring peoples. Henceforth, the leadership of the nation was left in Saul’s hands; subject, however, in keeping with his position as a theocratic ruler, to the prophet’s counsel, as the mouthpiece of the true, invisi­ble King above.

The signs of national revival shown by the transition to a monarchy, and the vigorous action against Nahash which was its first result, had, meanwhile, roused the Philistines, whose supremacy was thus threatened. Always formidable, such an enemy was doubly so, in the political prostration of Israel at this time. They were now in the height of their power. Holding the most fruitful part of Palestine, they were alike industrious in the field and in the city. Their harvests of grain; their vines, their olives, and their fruit, were a mine of wealth. The Hebrews had borrowed from them the word for flax, which they grew largely in their plains, and wove into linen in their towns. On the south, they had wide tracts of pasture land, over which vast flocks of sheep wandered. The cities were busy with many crafts and occupations. As a military people their army furnished employment to numerous chariot builders, makers of coats of mail, helmets, shields, weapons, etc. Their skill in the arts of luxury has already been noticed, and the mas­sive strength of their cities attested their skill as builders.

In commerce, the Philistines were less famous than the Phoenicians, but they were still remarkable. Their ships are spoken of in the Greek version of Isaiah, but they seem to have been used, principally, in the coasting trade, and in that with Egypt. The transit of goods through the country, which was crossed by the great caravan routes, was of much greater importance. That from the Euphrates, through Syria and inner Palestine, ran along the coast, to Egypt. Other tracks branched off to the Peninsula of Sinai, to the two bays of the Red Sea on each side of it, and to Arabia. The security of these high roads of trade formed the great aim of Philistine policy. Their invasion of Israel had indeed, above all, for its object, the control of the routes of traffic through the country, and the struggle against them had consequently for its theatre the neighbourhood of these great lines of commerce. One of these, leading from the lands south and south-west, wound through the central hills, from the ford of the Jordan at Jericho, through the narrow pass of Michmash, across the hill country of Ephraim; the other ran along the plain of Esdraelon, through the hills of Gilboa and Little Hermon, to the fords of the Jordan in the depression of the river valley at Bethshean; the entrepot of the trade to and from western Asia. Egyptian horses and chariots were a main branch of the Philistine commerce, the supply of these for Palestine and also for the Hittite and Syrian kingdoms being in their hands. Gaza, moreover, was the chief depot of a great traffic with Egypt, in incense, myrrh, styrax, ladanum, cinnamon from India, and cassia and cardamine from Arabia. They had indeed factories and settlements on the shore of Arabia, and held their own in the trade with the great East.

Their military forces were at once very numerous and complete. Squadrons of war chariots and cavalry, and a great force of infantry, subdued the neighbouring tribes; the chariot warriors especially constituting the aristocracy of the army, and bearing a great name for valour. Like the equipment of the Spartan hoplites, that of the leaders of the heavy-armed troops was designed to strike terror into the hearts of their foes. A round helmet of copper, a coat of scaled mail of the same metal, and brazen greaves on the legs, defended the person. At their back hung a copper headed spear, a sword depended at their side, and they bore in their hand a long iron-tipped lance. Each had his own armour-bearer, who always attended him, carrying a huge shield to cover the whole body of his master. The chariot fighters, also, were armed with a similar glittering panoply, and went into battle with a chariot driver and armour-bearer at their side. The light-armed troops were largely archers; the Crethi or Chered in their ranks distinguishing themselves so specially with the bow, that a band of them, enlisted by David as his bodyguard, are called indifferently Crethi or bowmen. The name may come from that of Crete, associated with early Philistine history, or, possibly, as Conder fancies, the village of Keratiyeh still existing on the Philistine plain. As a whole, the army was divided into hundreds and thousands; the entire force of each “lord” of a Philistine district constituting a host. To fortify their camps, place garrisons and military posts, and divide their soldiery into flying columns, to overrun and devastate the territory of their enemies, was familiar to them. But the nation did not confine itself to service in its own armies; like the free-lances of the middle ages, its sons were ready to hire themselves out to fight under the standard of any prince.

The first step taken by Saul towards the war of liberation was the enrolment of 3,000 men, the nucleus of a standing army. Two thousand of these remained with himself in Michmash and the hill country of Bethel, and 1,000 with Jonathan in Gibeah of Benjamin, a few miles off; the rest of the people having been sent home. Hostilities began by Jonathan overpowering the Philistine tribute collector, at Geba, with the military post under his command—an act of daring soon known far and near in the Philistine country. The signal thus given, Saul forthwith proclaimed an insurrection, sounding the war horns through all Israel, and summoning a general muster of the people at Gilgal. But the Philistines on their side were not inactive. Three thousand chariots, 6,000 cavalry, and a great force of in­fantry toiled up from the lowlands and crowded the passes of Benjamin. The excitement amongst the Hebrews was terrible. The braver hearts hastened to the rendezvous at Gilgal, the town farthest from the dreaded foe. The less resolute fled beyond the Jordan, or hid in the caves of the limestone hills around, or in their clefts, or in the numerous grain pits, and dry cisterns, the whole country abounding even now in ancient underground covered magazines and water-cisterns of great size, shaped like huge bottles, carefully excavated in the everywhere present lime­stone, and cemented so as to be water-tight. At Gerar I counted nearly twenty of these from one point.

Meanwhile, Samuel had directed Saul to wait for him seven days at Gilgal; for, though nominally king, it was a condition of his rule that he acted only as the prophet instructed him. Under the strange theocratic constitution enforced by Samuel, he was in fact only a puppet, moved by the prophet as he chose, and forbidden to act in anything as a free agent. The only counterpart to such a state of things in modern times, was the titular rule of the Mikado, in Japan, side by side with the real emperor, the Tycoon; the one a shadow king, the other the actual sovereign power. In antiquity, strange to say, we find a parallel to Saul and Samuel among the Getae of the century before Christ. In their wild home north and south of the Danube, that people were ruled by a chief who acted only as the servant of a holy man, without whom he was not allowed to act in anything whatever. Still stranger, the result of this extraordinary custom was the same as followed the rule of Samuel in Israel. From the lowest weakness and moral degeneracy the Getae roused themselves under the leading of the holy man and the phantom king to a thorough and lasting reformation. Indeed, they so turned themselves to a nobler life that their national vigour showed itself in a puritanical strictness and steadfast bravery, which carried their banners far and wide over new territories, till their kingdom was indefinitely extended. Once recognized, such a complete subordination to the representative of the theocracy as was demanded from Saul might become more easy to be borne, but in its early years the strong, valiant warrior must have been sorely tried by finding himself king in name, but in fact absolutely subordinate in the most minute detail to the command of Samuel. The days at Gilgal spent in waiting the seer's orders must have been trying in the extreme, when an eager spirit longed for action, but the monotony was probably broken by members of the school of the proph­ets at Jericho, close by, rousing their brethren to courage and devotion in the great struggle before them, by their recitals of national hymns and psalms, to the sound of their music, as is still usual, more or less, in the armies of Islam.

A part of the Philistine army of invasion had now reached Michmash, the present Mukhmas, the farthest point of their occupation to the east; a spot about seven miles north of Jebus, now Jerusalem, on the northern edge of the import­ant Wady Suweinit—“the valley of the little thorn, or acacia”—which forms the main line of communication between the sea-coast plain and the Jordan valley, and at Michmash is not unlike the dry bed of a stream. It runs through the very centre of the territory of Benjamin, con­tracting to a narrow fissure of rough lime cliffs, not very high, about a mile before we reach Mukhmas. Thence, down to the plain of the Jordan, behind the modern Jericho, it runs as a narrow sunken pass known at its lower end as the Wady Kelt. The sides of this part of the wady form walls or slopes of rough limestone, sometimes eight hundred feet high, in some places so close as to afford passage to only a small body of men abreast. The whole gorge is about twelve miles long, as it winds and wheels, serpent-like, but in that distance it sinks more than two thousand four hundred feet, for Mukhmas is two thousand and forty feet above the sea, and the Jordan plains at Jericho are about four hundred feet below the sea level. Opposite the village of Michmash on its southern side lay Geba; Bethel rose about four miles to the north, over successive hills; and Ramah and Gibeah were on the south, at short distances behind Geba. The part at which the Philistines had established themselves, consisted, Josephus tells us, of a steep bank with three tops, ending in a long sharp tongue, and protected by surround­ing walls of rock believed to be unscalable. Fortunately, the spot may be easily identified. Exactly such a natural stronghold exists immediately east of the present village of Mukhmas, and is still called the “fortress” y the peas­antry. It is a ridge forming three knolls rising above a perpendicular crag of no great height, and ending in a narrow tongue to the east, with steep limestone banks below. Op­posite this fastness, on the south, there is a crag of equal height, seemingly too steep to climb; the two forming “a sharp rock on one side, and a sharp rock on the other”. Of these the one on the south is called Seneh—“the acacia”— in the Bible, and, as has been said, this name is still given in a modern form to the whole valley. That on the north is called Bozeh, or “shining” a name very apt, as its chalky strata lie almost all day in the full light of an Eastern sun, while the other side of the ravine is as constantly in the shade. The country round is gray and stony, but not more so than the whole of Palestine, so far south, and the stoniness does not mean sterility. The village lies on a broad slope which grows excellent barley, fields of which were springing into stalk when I was there. A brook runs down the valley, north of the pass, with a number of not very large oaks, rich in mistletoe, dotting the slopes on both sides.

Fertility, in Palestine, is, of course, only a comparative term, for rocks and stones are everywhere only too plentiful, but while the pass itself is cold and desolate, the country on both sides is as good as most of southern Canaan. The rounded hills, which are in every direction like long, low gray waves, are evidently capable of terrace cultivation, which would amply repay the labour it involved, while stretches of better soil, at times forming thin pasture, vary the landscape as one rides on. Michmash is a very poor village, but its houses show great dressed stones as lintels and doorposts, and some are built of squared stones, the wreck of former grandeur. Old pillars of some temple or public building lie about, and at one place there is a carved head of a freestone column, which must have been brought from a distance. I bought a small bronze statuette of Diana with the quivers, picked up near the village by a peasant while ploughing. On the south side of the gorge one can make his way down from the top, but to climb the north side— Bozeh, “the shining”, is very difficult and might be thought by the Philistines impossible.

While the Philistines were gathering at Michmash, Saul remained at Gilgal, in eager impatience for the arrival of Samuel to give a religious sanction to the war. But day after day passed and he did not appear, and every hour lost seemed to endanger the result of the levy of the tribes. It was to be dreaded that the Philistines would descend into the Jordan valley and attack the almost unarmed Hebrews, who, moreover, were rapidly deserting. Many had already returned home, perhaps in alarm, and it looked as if all would ere long do so. To faith like that of Gideon this would have been indifferent, but Saul had no such support, and was greatly distressed. At last, on the seventh day, to the close of which he should have waited, he determined himself to offer the sacrifices necessary before taking the field, though Samuel, as the representative of Jehovah, had required him to await his coming that they might be offered by him. But while he was still beside the altar, Samuel appeared. It was no offence that he had offered sacrifices, for Solomon afterwards did so. And Samuel, who often sacrificed, was no more a priest than Saul. But he had followed his own will, instead of passively obeying that of the prophet who represented God, the true King. The offence thus involved the whole principle of the absolute subordination of the theocratic king to the prophet as the representative of Jehovah. No excuses of Saul availed. It was a question not of detail but of principle. He had acted as if independent, instead of bearing himself humbly, and 2, absolute obedience to Samuel. To use the prophet’s words at a later time, he had fancied that “sacrifice was more than obedience, and the fat of rams more than hearkening to God's word”. He had broken the fundamental law by which he held his high office. It was impossible that his kingdom should continue. To his dismay, Samuel, as the representative of God, announced that he could no longer recognize him, and returned at once from Gilgal to Gibeah.

 V.

THE REJECTED OF GOD.

AT once distressed and openly discredited before his people by Samuel’s retirement from Gilgal, Saul made his way by some roundabout track to Gibeah, where he pitched his tent under a pomegranate tree, by “the precipice” with the remnant of his force. It numbered only 600 men, but these were necessarily the bravest. So small a band, however, seemed incapable of opposing the strong Philistine army, though the remembrance of Gideon’s story might have cheered both them and their leaders. But Saul and Jonathan, for the time at least, forgot this. There seemed no hope for their country, and the thought filled them with the bitterest dejection, which expressed itself with true Oriental sensibility in loud weeping. They alone had swords; their followers had only such rude weapons as clubs and goads. Worst of all, Samuel’s leaving had deprived them of the means of consulting God, a step without which nothing important was done in antiquity, either in peace or war. As the only course open in such circumstances, therefore, he sent to Nob, a priest’s town within sight of Jerusalem, of which, however, even the site was unknown as early as the time of St. Jerome, for the priest Ahitub, the grandson of Eli, who had the high-priestly ephod, and could thus give the oracles desired.

But these dark hours of the infant monarchy were about to close. Geba lay on the other side of the pass of Michmash, at hardly an hour’s distance, but the steepness of the rocks made access from one to the other impossible for any organized force, except by a long circuit. Broad at its eastern part, the wady here, as has been said, contracts to hardly ten paces across, and is hemmed in by perpendicular walls of rock. Precisely at this spot Jonathan undertook one day to climb up, on the Philistine side, and his armour-bearer followed him. A single false step would have hurled them to instant death, but by skill they succeeded in reaching in safety a point from which they were seen by the enemy’s post. Astonished at their appearance in a spot thought inaccessible from below, the guard, though fancying they might be only the first of a number, treated the matter lightly. “Look here”, cried one to the other, “the Hebrews are creeping out of the holes where they have been hiding themselves!” Then, mocking the climbers, they asked them : “Come up, won’t you? We should like to make your acquaintance!”. It had, however, been agreed between Jonathan and his armour-bearer, that such a call on the part of the Philistines should be accepted as a sign to go to the top and attack them boldly. Once there, the mocking soon ceased, for in a few moments twenty men had fallen before the arrows of the two assailants, who followed up their first onset by hurling a shower of stones at their foe, and plying their slings against them; weapons terrible in Benjamite hands. The post yielding before such a fierce assault, Jonathan and his companion pressed on, keeping up a keen fire of stones. Confounded at an attack where they seemed most secure, and not knowing how many might be climbing up after the first two, the Philistines fell into wild confusion, each thinking his neighbour an enemy, and at last broke into flight, the panic spreading from the outpost to the whole host. The very earth seemed to tremble, or really did so at the moment, as the multitude, with huge clamour, swayed hither and thither in its terror. Mean­while, Saul, from his look-out on the height of Gibeah, no sooner saw the confusion and wild tumult, among the enemy across the ravine, than he hastened to Michmash with his 600 men, and completed the defeat; the Hebrews who had been drafted into the Philistine army, passing over to the side of their brethren, in the midst of the battle. Those, moreover, who till now had hidden in the clefts and caves of the hills, emboldened by the flight of their foe, eagerly joined the assailants, so that the band of Saul, which at first had been only 600, speedily rose to 10,000. Every town, besides, through which the fugitives passed, rose in their rear and helped to destroy them, Saul’s troops, also, tired as they were, pressing on in their track, by Bethaven, east of Bethel, over hill and valley, more than twenty miles, to Ajalon, a place on the north side of the Joppa road, thirteen miles from Jerusalem, among the hills, and giving them no opportunity to rally.

Further pursuit, which would have secured their utter destruction, was checked by an apparently trivial accident, which, however, had momentous results. “Saul”, says the Greek Bible, “committed a great error that day”. With the inconsiderate rashness which was one of his defects, he had enjoined his men to taste nothing during the pursuit, and had added a curse on any one who should break the order. But Jonathan, ever among the foremost, knew nothing of this, and feeling exhausted, dipped the end of the spear or lance in his hand, into one of the honeycombs in the hollow trees of a wood, through which they were passing, and took some honey. Told of his father’s command, he at once expressed his regret at it, as a hindrance to the complete success of the day. Meanwhile the whole host followed his example of seeking some refreshment. Utterly worn out when they reached Ajalon—“the haunt of gazelles”—on the hill-side, above a broad rich valley, stretching down to the lowlands, they rushed on the sheep, oxen, and calves, in the spoil, and, in their fierce hunger, would not wait till the blood was drained from the carcasses, but ate it with the flesh. This, at least, was a distinct sin, demanding instant prohibition. A great stone was therefore rolled before Saul, and a command sent out that all oxen and sheep should be brought to it and slain there, that the blood, which in all cases was sacred to God, might prop­erly drain away. This flagrant transgression of a law gener­ally observed with an almost superstitious reverence, threw Saul into great distress. Ever eager to observe the Law exactly in its letter, but now much more so, to vindicate himself from blame in connection with Samuel having left him, he fancied that pouring out the blood on his rude altar would secure forgiveness for the sin committed. Night having come, and Saul having, asked Ahitub, the priest, whom he always kept at his side, whether he should continue the pursuit, no answer was vouchsafed by the oracle of the Urim and Thummim which he wore, with his ephod, when thus officially consulted. This was enough to rouse the superstitious mind of Saul. Someone, he felt sure, had disobeyed him, and he must put him to death, whoever he might be, in fulfilment of his oath. Eager to show his zeal for religion, as he in his wild way understood it, he instantly demanded the name of the first offender, but no one would betray Jonathan. Determined to find out, he now resolved to appeal to the sacred ordeal of the lot. Tak­ing Jonathan beside him, apart from the multitude, he cried aloud, as we learn from the Greek Bible, “0 Lord God of Israel, wherefore hast Thou not answered Thy servant this day? If the iniquity be in me or in Jonathan my son, 0 Lord God of Israel, give Urim and if it be in Thy people Israel, give, I pray Thee, Thummim”, which would seem to imply that the decision of the Urim and Thummim was obtained by some form of casting lots. The high-priestly oracle thus invoked, Saul and Jonathan were taken, and then Jonathan alone. Left to himself, Saul would forthwith have put even his darling son to death, but for the determined interference of the multitude around, who rightly protected him, as the hero of a great deliverance vouchsafed by God. Saul had therefore to content himself with offering a sacrifice, probably a human one, with a prisoner for victim, in Jonathan’s stead.

Freed from destructive pursuit by this interruption, the remnant of the Philistines reached their cities humbled and enraged at their defeat, but determined ere long to wipe out the disgrace. The joy at so unexpected a victory, on the other hand, rekindled enthusiasm among the Hebrews. They could no longer be accused of cowardice, and once more had weapons with which they felt themselves able to fight, under a king so valiant and resolute as Saul had proved. Meanwhile, however, the rancour of the Philistines towards Israel was so intensified by what had happened that the Hebrews, we are told, were “had in abomination by their fierce enemy”. It may be we have a hint of the special ground of such a feeling in the statement that Jonathan, in his sudden attack at Geba, destroyed a sacred, emblem wor­shipped by the foe, for the word translated “garrison” is rendered “pillar”, and may well have been a sacred stone orcippus, the desecration of which was as abhorrent to the Philistines as the mutilation of the Hermae, in after ages, was to the Athenians.

Two great military successes had now strengthened Saul’s position, and made the people willing to submit to his rule. With such proofs of the value of national unity, they gladly supported him in the steps necessary to prevent the Philistines regaining the supremacy, though these in­volved a centralization of power very different from their ancient republican freedom. He had already gathered round him 3,000 men, but they seem to have been volunteers, free to leave at pleasure. These were now, apparently, enrolled as a standing force; any strong or brave youths or men of whom he heard being constantly added to them. There is no notice, however, of any posts being stationed where they would seem to have been most needed, at the mouths of the hill passes leading from the lowlands. Abner, Saul’s cousin, who had contributed greatly to the victories of the past, was named to the command of the whole force. A bodyguard was also formed, some of whom, if not all, famous as running footmen, acted as the king’s messengers. But they had other more disagreeable duties, for they were the king’s executioners and police, as well as his couriers. Over these was set Doeg, an Edomite by birth, who had probably passed into the service of Saul during some of his conflicts with Edom, and, having joined the community of Israel, was afterwards head of the royal herds­men. They were “the young men” in immediate attendance on the king, of whom David became afterwards the head. The fighting men, moreover, had a staff of officers, captains of thousands and of hundreds : many of them, doubtless, relatives and connections of Saul, or favoured personages attracted to the new royal centre of honour. To Jonathan, Abner, and afterwards to David, however, was reserved the special favour of sitting at the king’s table.

The patriarchal simplicity of Samuel must have felt in these steady advances towards royal state, a foreboding of the results he had predicted, as entailed by the political revolution in which he had unwillingly played a chief part. He had, moreover, already been forced to the conclusion, from what had happened at Gilgal, that, in spite of his early hopes of him, Saul was not the man for a theocratic king. Yet, though forced to leave him, and thus publicly to disown him as such, he still clung fondly to the hope that he might yet retrace his steps. Another opportunity, at least, would be given him. The great Bedouin tribe of the Amalekites, once masters of central Palestine, but long since driven out from it by the Hebrews, still continued their hereditary enemies. At Sinai, in the Wilderness wandering, and in the days of Gideon, they had har­assed and troubled it, and now, in Saul's day, sorely harassed Judah and Simeon, in the south of the land. The sword of their chief, “Agag”, “the Destroyer”, had made women childless. To leave him to plunder and slay their brethren, would have been unworthy of Saul and the other tribes. Judah, moreover, had only lately been won to a hearty union with the rest of the nation, and would give new life and vigour to the whole, if not weakened by an enemy.

Samuel, therefore, once more came to Saul, commanding him in the name of God, who had anointed him as king, to undertake a sacred war against Amalek, devoting it and all it had to destruction, as accursed. Nor did Saul for a moment hesitate. Summoning the muster of all Israel, including Judah, he marched at once to the distant south­ern districts. Warning the Kenites, a friendly Midianitish stock descended from Hobab, or Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses, and his clan, who were at peace with their warlike neighbours, to separate themselves from them, he lost no time in making his attack. True to Eastern tactics, he surprised Agag, now weakened by the loss of his Kenite allies, took his city, which was near Carmel, the present Kurmel, south of Hebron, and slew, or made prisoners of, the whole tribe, except a remnant, who succeeded in saving themselves by hasty flight. Among other captives was Agag himself, and the victors, moreover, gathered a rich booty, taken by the Amalekites—Arab fashion—in their wide raids, from the trade caravans passing between the Euphrates and Egypt. Vast flocks of sheep and goats, and great herds of oxen and camels, fell into their hands. But, in obedience to Samuel’s command, all this wealth was to be destroyed, as “devoted” to God, or accursed; not even a trace of Amalek being left. Once in their possession, however, the Hebrews were very loath to destroy such a proud and useful reward of their valour, and drove these off with them, on their return home. Unfortunately for himself, Saul, overawed, and afraid to oppose them, winked at this disobedience, thinking, perhaps, besides, that an addition of this kind to the general wealth was needed by the people, impoverished as they had been by the oppressive tyranny of the Philistines.

Such a victory over the renowned Amalekites raised equal pride in Israel and in Saul. Jabesh Gilead and Michmash were great deeds, but it was much more glorious to have crushed the terrible Agag. Led in chains, he was brought back with the army to grace its triumph. Saul’s early humility gave place to haughty pride at the thought of such exploits. A memorial of these, raised in the oasis of Carmel, must commemorate his glory; most probably a stone tablet like that of Mesha, the king of Moab, though Jerome fancied it was an arch of myrtles, palms, and olives. Meanwhile, a vision had warned Samuel that the king had not fully performed his commission, and was hence finally re­jected by God. The prophet, we are told, was so wroth at Saul for this renewed offence that sleep forsook him. He glowed with indignation, says the Hebrew. Intensely opposed to monarchical government, he could tolerate it only if the ruler was content to be entirely subordinate to himself. Judge and virtual king till Saul was elected, he must remain actual king to the end. Perhaps his “cry to God” was that an office so hateful to him should be abolished. With the morning light, he went out to meet Saul; but hearing on the way of his erection of the memorial to his own glory, instead of humbly acknowledging that the victory was from God, he turned aside and went to Gilgal. Thither, therefore, the king followed him, with his force.

As if nothing had happened amiss, Saul, on reaching Gilgal, made his way to the prophet, confidently telling him “he had fulfilled his commands”. Doubtless he thought he had done so, for the necessity of his having no liberty even in details, was a thing he did not comprehend. “What then means the bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen that I hear?” answered Samuel, pressing him hard. The Greek Bible adds, that as Samuel met him, “behold, he was offering the first-fruits of the spoil which he had brought from the Amalekites, as a burnt offering to the Lord”, and this coloured his reply. “The people had spared the best of the sheep and the oxen, to sacrifice to Jehovah, and the rest had been utterly destroyed”. But literal obedience to the command of Samuel, which was imperative, had been neglected. Of this Samuel the prophet forthwith reminded him. Was not he, once so obscure, but now the anointed head of the tribes of Israel, the people of God, bound by covenant to obey God in all things? To seize the spoil and to spare Agag was to disobey. Explanation was vain. “Has God”, said Samuel, “as much pleasure in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obedience? You say that the people have kept alive part of the spoil to sacrifice to God at Gilgal (the sacred stone circle in the neighbourhood of Jericho, then the headquarters of Jewish worship). Has Jehovah as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as in obeying the voice of Jehovah? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken (to the Divine voice) than the fat of rams (offered on the altar). For (such) rebellion (as thine, in not passively carrying out my commands as the mouthpiece of God) is as (bad as) the sin of divination (that is, seeking revelations through incantations to the dead, or from the flight of arrows or the motions of entrails, and other heathen ways), and stubbornness (the following of one’s own will rather than God’s will in any particular) is as the worship of (public) idols, or of teraphim (or household idols)”. Then came the terrible sentence, “Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, the Lord has rejected thee from being king over Israel”. In vain the humbled king at last pleaded the simple truth—that he had been afraid of the people—and begged the prophet to turn back with him to the altar, that he might cast himself down before it and crave forgiveness.

The hour was past for yielding. Samuel would not go back, but turned to leave. Still more terrified, Saul now clutched his mantle, to hold him, if it might be; but it rent in his hands. “So”, said Samuel, stopping a moment, “has God rent the kingdom of Israel from thee this day, and given it to a neighbour of thine, that is better than thou! And even should Israel itself be torn in two as a consequence of this, the Strength of Israel will neither lie nor repent, for He is not a man to change His mind”. “Honour me at least before the elders of my tribe and of Israel, and turn back” groaned the king, as his only remaining entreaty—and Samuel gave way so far as to go to the altar, and let Saul humble himself before God, at its foot. But the prophet, though tender where free to be so, was stern and unbending in his fidelity to the command he had been divinely directed to lay on Saul. Ordering the king of the Amalekites to be brought, Agag was led to his presence in chains, crying in unmanly grief, as he came, “Oh, how bitter, bitter is death!” But the only answer of Samuel was, that as women had been made childless by his sword, his mother should now be made sad as they, and he forthwith ordered him to be cut in pieces.

After that day the prophet and Saul never met again. Samuel returned to his home at Ramah; the king to his at Gibeah. It was the crisis in his life. His pride had been humbled; his victory changed to a defeat. The words of Samuel rang in his ears, that he was forsaken by God; that the kingdom would pass from his house, and, above all, that it would be given to a better than himself. If so, that rival must be now alive and would presently be anointed, to re­place him. Much as he had shrunk from assuming power, he eagerly clung to it now he possessed it. Nor could he revenge himself on Samuel. Lowered in the eyes of his people, he yet dared not touch the prophet, if he would. To do so would rouse the whole people at once. His dreaded rival was unknown to him; any one round him might be he. Besides, even if he could rid himself of both prophet and rival, the curse of God was beyond his power to avert. The seeds of a brooding melancholy and wild jealousy, that soon passed into outbursts of madness, had been sown in his heart.

To distract his mind he threw himself into warlike excite­ments. There were enemies on every side. Raids were therefore undertaken against the Moabites, Ammonites, and other peoples; in every case successfully. Nothing seemed more likely to keep back the curse which he dreaded, than the popularity gained by warlike fame. A rival would find it harder to oppose one so much in credit with the nation.

In his desperation he thought of a last way to secure, perhaps, a return of God’s favour, and thus regain his lost position. If he had fallen by neglecting to carry out one Divine command to the letter, he would show his repentance by a harsh execution of what had been required by the Law, in other directions. Samuel had traced the decline of Israel to their adoption of Canaanite manners and religion, and there were still some settlements of the old population in the midst of the tribes. He—Saul—would now show his zeal for the national purity, by carrying out the command to smite and destroy all these remnants. This he presently did; even the Gibeonites, who had voluntarily submitted to Joshua and had had their lives secured by an oath, being nearly exterminated, and their town, Gibeon, apparently seized and given to Saul’s relations. With the Canaanites were also included in this fierce proscription, all who followed the secret magic arts of heathenism. The Law com­manded that all who had a familiar spirit, and all wizards, should be stoned, and he would honour it. There was cer­tainly need of reformation in regard to such unholy practices, for no fewer than eight kinds of magic are mentioned as having been in use. “Diviners” wrought by secret spells; enchanters used incantations; there were vendors of charms and amulets; a special class invoked familiar spirits—that is, spirits over whom they had power; wizards, or wise-men, followed other branches of the black art, and necromancers consulted the dead. Superstition was rampant in all classes, from the king to the peasant: a state of things which must be remembered in our estimate of Saul. Yet he had received no personal command to assail either the helpless Canaanite population, or the dealers in magic spells and incantations, and acted solely on his own authority in this crusade against them. His own will or caprice was in this case, as in others, his law. Even his zeal, moreover, showed his crude and gross ideas. Fanatical as to rites and the letter of the Law; the higher devotion of the spirit, which is the spring of loving trust, holy life, and cheerful acquiescence in the will of God, was strange to him. Re­quired to ignore his own personality, and act only as the servant of God, he constantly let his self-will prevail, and acted, more or less, as if, like the kings around, he were free to do as he chose. He fancied, however, that blind passionate zeal would neutralize Samuel’s reproaches of his having forsaken “the ways of God”;  though while he was hunting out wizards from the land he himself still cherished a lingering faith in their arts. To crown all, altars built by him, rose at various places.  Who could be more zealous for Jehovah than he!

While thus eager to show himself an enthusiastic reformer, and strict enforcer of the Law, he was equally bent on sur­rounding his kingly office with the pomp and circumstance which awe the multitude. He assumed a royal turban, which he did not lay aside even in battle. Once the modest tiller of his father’s land, those who approached him must now prostrate themselves at his feet. He must also, like other kings, have a harem. He had married his first wife, Ahinoam, while he was still an obscure youth. He now took several others; among them the fair and clever Riz-pah. Nor is it without significance, as marking his confused and vague religious ideas, that while the names of some of his sons were Abiel,“El is my Father”; Jehiel, “may El triumph”; Malchishua,“my king (God) is (my) help”, Meribbaal, “he who contends with Baal”, known also as Mephibosheth, “he who treats contemptuously the idols”; the name of one was Eshbaal,“Baal’s man”.

The court was made as splendid as possible. The booty from the various wars, especially from the campaign against Amalek, had brought wealth into the land. Prosperity, moreover, gradually returned, with union and a strong government, and the daughters of Israel could, after a time, boast of wearing the fine white linen of Egypt, adorned with purple stripes and ornaments of gold. Saul’s own daughters, indeed, wore the trailing purple-blue robes of princesses.

But peace could not last while the Philistines had their defeat to avenge, and it was on the breaking out of a new war that Saul first met his future successor, David; henceforth, in his belief, the very rival he dreaded. From this time till his last fatal battle, Saul’s story is that of a man struggling with ever-darkening shadows of madness and jealous despair, and giving way to paroxysms of fury and despotism. So haunted was lie, indeed, by his dread of David, and so inextricably are the lives of the two from this period joined, that the details will be better treated here­after.

Many years had passed since the defeat of Goliath at Ephesdammim, when a new invasion of the Philistines again roused the tribes. This time its scene was the great Plain of Esdraelon, through which ran the caravan route from Asia, of which the invaders wished to have the control. Their army had reached the plain by the sea-coast road, as best suited for chariots and cavalry, and had encamped at its eastern end, not far from Shunem, where Gideon, long before, had fought the Midianite host. It is now known as Solam, a poor hamlet of rough, flat-roofed stone huts, with some fruit trees beside it, lying about two hundred feet above the plain below, opposite Mount Tabor, which leaves a broad strip of level land between its foot and the hills of Gilboa. It was the centre of the Philistine position, Saul lying about two miles off, to the south, with his face northwards, towards the enemy. Hastily levying the tribes, Saul at once marched north, and, after encamping for a time at the foot of Mount Gilboa, moved to the north side of the hills near End or, where the Philistine chariots had less room to deploy. This place is now a hamlet, between two and three miles beyond Shunem, at the foot of the hills, on the north side. Its mud hovels cling to the bare and stony hill­side, which shows caves dug in recent times for lime to make mortar. It is marked by the permanent spring, Am Dor—“the fountain of Dor”—from which the place gets its name, flowing out of it. It lies exactly opposite the top of Mount Tabor, from which one looks down on Shunem, Endor, Nain, and other famous spots, to south of it, across a lovely green plain. Brave as he was by nature, the sight of the vast force of horse and foot in full armour, arrayed against him—to be opposed only by the spears and slings of Israel —shook Saul’s resolution and courage. His manhood, indeed, was already unstrung by long mental disease. He was in the awful position, as it seemed in antiquity, of being unable to consult either priest or prophet, for he had massacred the priests at Nob; Abiathar alone escaping. From him, a fugitive, under the hated protection of David, he could not inquire or hope for an oracle. He had driven away Samuel by his disregard of his obligation as a theocratic king. Heaven, as it seemed, was thus shut against him. For years it had been ever clearer that the doom pronounced on him had been inevitable, and now, perhaps, he felt this. To begin a battle without Divine omens or counsel was enough of itself to unman him, for even the heathen around would not fight, till they had learned that they had their gods on their side. In his agony he tried to bring on dreams in his sleep, hoping thus, at least, to get revelations. But even these were refused him. Rather than want any voice from above, therefore, he turned to the very arts whose professors he had once so ruthlessly driven from the land. An old woman, a sorceress, still lingered at Endor, for where there is superstition it will find agents to turn it to profit. Seeking her, in deep disguise, by night, he begged she would invoke the spirit of Samuel, who had died shortly before. Conjurations and mutterings followed, to bring some apparent phantom before him whom she might pronounce to be Samuel, but both she and Saul were appalled by the result. What she could never, herself, have done, was divinely vouchsafed. An apparition, we are told, suddenly rose before them, which Saul and the woman recognized at once, by its mantle, as Samuel. But it came with no words of comfort or hope. The doom, long before uttered at Gilgal, was once more announced, with the addition that God had indeed forsaken him and chosen David in his place, and that tomorrow, he and his sons would be in the regions of the dead, with the shade that addressed him. Unnerved by the sight and the awful words, Saul, weak with watching and fasting all the day before, and through the night, in the hope of a vision, was too faint to make his way back to the camp, till he had forced himself to take food. Then, at last, he and his attendants rejoined his army.

With a leader paralyzed by such forebodings, victory could not be expected. The ground, moreover, was as favourable to the Philistines as it was the reverse to the Hebrews. Green plains led to the slopes of Gilboa, swelling after a time into heights rising bare and stony. Behind these, the many summits of the hills shot up abruptly 500 or 600 feet, bleak, white, and barren; their only growths, spots of scrub oak and the mountain thorns and flowers, never wanting, in spring at least, in Palestine.

The attack began the next morning, and the Hebrews fought bravely all day. But they could not withstand the chariots, cavalry, and heavily mailed troops of the Philistines. Driven back to Gilboa, they were pursued up the sides of the hills and utterly routed. Three sons of Saul—the darling Jonathan, with Abinadab, and Malchishua— were slain in the field. Saul, still wearing his turban and royal bracelet, at last found himself alone with his armour-bearer, as the Philistine bowmen pressed closer and closer; his shield cast away in his flight, but his spear still in his hand. He would not flee, and he could not let himself be taken, for a shameful death would follow. Leaning heavily therefore on his spear, “trembling sore because of the archers”, by whom he had been perhaps wounded, he was hotly pursued by the Philistine chariots and horse; and feeling escape impossible, he called on his armour-bearer to kill him. On his refusing to do so, Saul fell on his own sword, and, as he was sinking into the darkness of death but still conscious, a wild Amalekite, the deadly enemy of Israel, wandering over the field in hope of spoil, “stood on him”—as alleged, at his own request—and gave him a final stab. It may be, however, that this was a mere invention, for the sacred narrative tells us that he died by his own act, and that his armour-bearer, seeing him dead, also killed himself.

The defeat was terrible. The flower of the youth of Israel and the whole of the king’s bodyguard lay on the slopes of Gilboa and at its foot. Resting through the night, after the toil of the battle, the Philistines, on the morrow, while stripping the dead, found the bodies of Saul and of his three sons. Saul’s head and his weapons were forthwith taken as trophies and sent to Philistia, where the skull was hung up in the temple of Dagon at Ashdod; his arms, spear, and sword, with the bow of Jonathan, being sent round the Philistine cities, and at last laid up in the temple of Astarte, at the Canaanite city of Bethshean, in the sunken oasis hard by Gilboa. There, also, the conquerors nailed up the stripped and headless corpse of Saul and that of Jonathan. All the Hebrew towns round Esdraelon and in its neighbourhood had been deserted by their population at once, after the battle, and occupied by the Philistines, who now held the entire length of the caravan route for which they had begun the war, and could give themselves up to rejoicing. The position of things was sad in the extreme for Israel. Bands of the enemy, following up their victory, marched south and west, and occupied all the important towns. Approaching Gibeah, Saul’s own mountain village, they spread a terror which brought with it another sad misfortune to the royal house. The nurse of the prince Mephibosheth, a boy of five, fleeing with him on her shoulder, in her wild haste stumbled, and let him fall on the rocks; a disaster of which he bore the result in a lameness of both feet for life. Carried over the Jordan, he was finally entrusted to a chief of Gilead, bearing the famous name of Machir, and was brought up in his household.

Saul had reigned about twenty years. At his accession only a small part of the land had been in foreign hands, the territory of Benjamin and Dan, and part of Ephraim and Judah. But the Philistines were masters of the whole country at his death. All resistance for a time ceased; one brave deed alone redeeming the picture of faint-heartedness. The men of Jabesh Gilead, across the Jordan, mindful of the deliverance of their town from Nahash, by Saul, crossed the river in the night, and having taken down his corpse and that of Jonathan from the wall of Bethshean, bore them safely off, and, after burning the flesh, to hide the mutilation already inflicted on the bodies, buried the bones, with seven days’ lamentation, under a terebinth outside their home. 

Thus ended a reign which had dawned so brightly.

HISTORY OF THE JEWS