HISTORY OF EGYPT
CHALDEA, SYRIA, BABYLONIA, AND ASSYRIA
By G. MASPERO,
Honorable Doctor of Civil Laws, and Fellow of
Queen’s College,
Oxford; Member of the Institute and Professor at
the College of France
Edited by A. H. SAYCE,
Professor of Assyriology, Oxford
Translated by M. L. McCLURE,
Member of the Committee of the Egypt
Exploration Fund
CONTAINING OVER TWELVE HUNDRED COLORED PLATES AND ILLUSTRATIONS
Volume VI.
LONDON
THE GROLIER SOCIETY
PUBLISHERS
THE CLOSE OF THE THEBAN EMPIRE—(continued)
RAMSES III.: MANNERS AND CUSTOMS—POPULATION—THE
PREDOMINANCE OF AMON AND HIS HIGH PRIESTS.
The Theban necropolis: mummies—The funeral of a rich Theban: the
procession of the offerings and the funerary furniture, the crossing of
the Nile, the tomb, the farewell to the dead, the sacrifice, the coffins,
the repast of the dead, the song of the Harper—The common ditch—The
living inhabitants of the necropolis: draughtsmen, sculptors, painters—The
bas-reliefs of the temples and the tombs, wooden statuettes, the smelting
of metals, bronze—The religions of the necropolis: the immorality
and want of discipline among the people: workmen s strikes.
Amon and the beliefs concerning him: his kingdom over the living and
the dead, the soul’s destiny according to the teaching of Amon—Khonsû
and his temple; the temple of Amon at Karnak, its revenue, its priesthood—The
growing influence of the high priests of Amon under the sons of Ramses
III.: Hamsesnaklûti, Amenôthes; the violation of the royal burying-places—Hrihor
and the last of the Ramses, Smendês and the accession to power of the
XXIst dynasty: the division of Egypt into two States—The
priest-kings of Amon masters of Thebes under the suzerainty of the Tanite
Pharaohs—The close of the Theban empire.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I—THE CLOSE OF THE THEBAN EMPIRE—(continued)
CHAPTER II—THE RISE OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE
CHAPTER III—THE HEBREWS AND THE PHILISTINES—DAMASCUS
List of Illustrations
005.jpg the Necropolis of SheÎkh and El-qurneh
007.jpg Head of a Theban Mummy
008.jpg the Manufacture and Painting of The
Cartonnage009.jpg Wrapping of the Mummy, Under The
Direction Of The “Man of the Roll”012.jpg the Funeral of Harmhabi
013.jpg the Funeral of HabmhabÎ
014.jpg the Boat Carrying The Mummy
015.jpg the Boats Containing The Female Weepers
and The People of the Household016.jpg the Boats Containing The Friends and The
Funerary Furniture017.jpg a Corner of the Theban Necropolis
018.jpg Painting in the Fifth Tomb of The Kings
to The Right019.jpg the Farewell to The Mummy, and The Double
Received by the Goddess021.jpg Niche in the Tomb of Menna
025.jpg the Paraphernalia of a Mummy Of The XXth
to The Xxiind Dynasties026.jpg the Funeral Repast—music and
Dancing027.jpg the Coffin of The Favourite Gazelle Of
IsÎmkhobiu029.jpg One of the Harpers Of The Tomb Of Ramses
III.032.jpg Paintings at the End of The Hall Of The
Fifth The Tomb033.jpg Amenothes III. At Luxor
026.jpg Sketch of a Female Acrobat
Bas-relief of Seti I., Showing Corrections Made
by The Sculptor040.jpg the Kneeling Scribe at Turin
041a.jpg Young Girl in the Turing Museum
043b.jpg Statue in the Turin Museum
045.jpg Funerary Casket in the Turin Museum
046.jpg Shrine in the Turin Museum
048.jpg the Swallow-goddess from The Theban
Necropolis049.jpg the Goddess MabÎtsakbo
060.jpg Decorated Wrappings of a Mummy
062.jpg One of the Mysterious Books Of Amon
066.jpg the Entrance to a Royal Tomb
066b.jpg One of the Hours Of The Night
074.jpg KhonsÛ* and Temple of KhonsÛ**.
075.jpg the Temple of KhonsÛ at Karnak
077.jpg the Court of The Temple Of KhonsÛ
078.jpg the Colonnade Built by ThÛtmosis III
081.jpg the Temple of Amon at Karnak
082.jpg the Two Stele-pillars at Karnak
093.jpg Zodphtahaufonkhi, Royal Son of Ramses
101.jpg the Tree Growing on The Tomb of Osiris
106.jpg One of the Most Ancient Phoenician
Inscriptions110.jpg a Phoenician God in his Egyptian Shrine
111.jpg AmenÔthes I. Seizing a Lion
112.jpg a Phoenician Mastaba at Arvad
113.jpg Two of the Tombs at Arvad
115.jpg the Kabr-hiram Near Tyre
117.jpg Egyptian Treatment of the Cow on a
Phoenician Bowl118.jpg the King and his Double on a Phoenician
Bowl128.jpg AzÂz—one of This Tumuli on the
Ancient Hittite Plain143.jpg the 1st Assyrian Empire—map
145.jpg the Volcanic Cone of KÔkab
149.jpg Ishtar As a Warrior Bringing Prisoners
to A Conquering King152.jpg a Village in the Mountain Districts of
The Old AssÆan Kingdom155.jpg the Sabre of Ramman-nirari
179.jpg Lion Transfixed by an Arrow
182.jpg Libation Poured over the Lions on The
Return From The Chase184.jpg an Assyrian War-chariot Charging the Foe
185a.jpg Harness of the Horses
188.jpg Crossing a River in Boats and on
Inflated Skins189.jpg Making a Bridge for the Passage of The
Chariots190.jpg the King’s Chariot Crossing a Bridge
191.jpg the Assyrian Infantry Crossing The
Mountains193.jpg the King Crossing a Mountain in his
Chariot198.jpg the Bringing of Heads After a Battle
200.jpg the King Lets Fly Arrows at a Besieged
Town202.jpg a Town Taken by Scaling
203.jpg Tortures Inflicted on Prisoners
204.jpg a Convoy of Prisoners and Captives After
The Taking of a Town205.jpg Convoy of Prisoners Bound in Various
Ways216.jpg General View of the Ruins Of Euyuk
217.jpg the Sphinx on The Right of Euyuk
218.jpg Two Blocks Covered With Bas-reliefs in
the Euyuk Palace221.jpg the Asiatic Inscription of
Kolitolu-yaÎla222.jpg Double Scend of Offerings
223.jpg the Bas-relief of Ibriz
230.jpg Sacrifice Offered Before the Royal Stele
231.jpg Portions of the Sacrificial Victims
Thrown Into The Water233.jpg the Stele at Sebenneh-su
235.jpg Transport of Building Materials by Water
236.jpg Rare Animals Brought Back As Trophies by
The King237.jpg Monkey Brought Back As Tribute
261.jpg the Valley of The Jabbok, Near to Its
Confluence With the Jordan263.jpg One of the Mounds Of ÂÎn Es-sultÂn, The
Ancient Jericho264.jpg the Jordan in The Neighbourhood of
Jericho265.jpg One of the Wells Of Beersheba
268.jpg Map of Palestine in Time Of the Judges
288.jpg Mount Gerizim, With a View of Nablus
294.jpg a Procession of Philistine Captives At
Medinet-habu297.jpg a Philistine Ship of War
301.jpg Tell Es-safieh, the Gath of The
Philistines304.jpg the Hill of Shiloh, Seen from The
North-east324.jpg AÎd-el-ra, the Site of The Ancient
Adullam330.jpg the Hill of Bethshan, Seen from The East
354.jpg the Site of Rabbath-amon, Seen from The
West370.jpg Map of Tyre Subsequent to Hiram
371.jpg the Breakwater of The Egyptian Harbour
at Tyre372.jpg One of Solomon’s Reservoirs Near
Jerusalem374.jpg Some of the Stone Course Of Solomon’s
Temple At Jerusalem377.jpg an Upright of a Door at Lachish
384.jpg King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba
391.jpg the Mound and Plain of Bethel.
401.jpg the Mummies of Queen MÂkerÎ and Her
Child404.jpg the Two Niles of Tanis
410.jpg a Troop of Libyans Hunting
419.jpg Amon Presenting to Sheshonq the List of
The Cities Captured in Israel and Judah
CHAPTER I—THE CLOSE OF THE THEBAN EMPIRE—(continued)
Ramses III.: Manners and Customs—Population—The
predominance of Amon and his high priests.
Opposite the Thebes of the living, Khafîtnîbûs, the Thebes of the dead,
had gone on increasing in a remarkably rapid manner. It continued to
extend in the south-western direction from the heroic period of the
XVIIIth dynasty onwards, and all the eminence and valleys were gradually
appropriated one after the other for burying-places. At the time of which
I am speaking, this region formed an actual town, or rather a chain of
villages, each of which was grouped round some building constructed by one
or other of the Pharaohs as a funerary chapel. Towards the north, opposite
Karnak, they clustered at Drah-abu’l-Neggah around pyramids of the first
Theban monarchs, at Qurneh around the mausolæ of Ramses I. and Seti I.,
and at Sheikh Abd el-Qurneh they lay near the Amenopheum and the
Pamonkaniqîmît, or Ramesseum built by Ramses II. Towards the south they
diminished in number, tombs and monuments becoming fewer and appearing at
wider intervals; the Migdol of Ramses III. formed an isolated suburb, that
of Azamît, at Medinet-Habu; the chapel of Isis, constructed by Amenôthes,
son of Hapû, formed a rallying-point for the huts of the hamlet of Karka;*
and in the far distance, in a wild gorge at the extreme limit of human
habitations, the queens of the Ramesside line slept their last sleep.
Each of these temples had around it its enclosing wall of dried brick, and
the collection of buildings within this boundary formed the Khîrû, or
retreat of some one of the Theban Pharaohs, which, in the official
language of the time, was designated the “august Khîrû of millions of
years.”
A sort of fortified structure, which was built into one of the corners,
served as a place of deposit for the treasure and archives, and could be
used as a prison if occasion required.*
The remaining buildings consisted of storehouses, stables, and houses for
the priests and other officials. In some cases the storehouses were
constructed on a regular plan which the architect had fitted in with that
of the temple. Their ruins at the back and sides of the Ramesseum form a
double row of vaults, extending from the foot of the hills to the border
of the cultivated lands. Stone recesses on the roof furnished shelter for
the watchmen.* The outermost of the village huts stood among the nearest
tombs. The population which had been gathered together there was of a
peculiar character, and we can gather but a feeble idea of its nature from
the surroundings of the cemeteries in our own great cities. Death
required, in fact, far more attendants among the ancient Egyptians than
with us. The first service was that of mummification, which necessitated
numbers of workers for its accomplishment. Some of the workshops of the
embalmers have been discovered from time to time at Sheikh Abd el-Qurneh
and Deîr el-Baharî, but we are still in ignorance as to their
arrangements, and as to the exact nature of the materials which they
employed. A considerable superficial space was required, for the
manipulations of the embalmers occupied usually from sixty to eighty days,
and if we suppose that the average deaths at Thebes amounted to fifteen or
twenty in the twenty-four hours, they would have to provide at the same
time for the various degrees of saturation of some twelve to fifteen
hundred bodies at the least.**
Each of the corpses,moreover, necessitated the employment of at least half
a dozen workmen to wash it, cut it open, soak it, dry it, and apply the
usual bandages before placing the amulets upon the canonically prescribed
places, and using the conventional prayers.
There was fastened to the breast, immediately below the neck, a stone or
green porcelain scarab, containing an inscription which was to be
efficacious in preventing the heart, “his heart which came to him from his
mother, his heart from the time he was upon the earth,” from rising up and
witnessing against the dead man before the tribunal of Osiris.* There were
placed on his fingers gold or enamelled rings, as talismans to secure for
him the true voice.**
The body becomes at last little more than a skeleton, with a covering of
yellow skin which accentuates the anatomical, details, but the head, on
the other hand, still preserves, where the operations have been properly
conducted, its natural form. The cheeks have fallen in slightly, the lips
and the fleshy parts of the nose have become thinner and more drawn than
during life, but the general expression of the face remains unaltered.
A mask of pitch was placed over the visage to preserve it, above which was
adjusted first a piece of linen and then a series of bands impregnated
with resin, which increased the size of the head to twofold its ordinary
bulk. The trunk and limbs were bound round with a first covering of some
pliable soft stuff, warm to the touch. Coarsely powdered natron was
scattered here and there over the body as an additional preservative.
Packets placed between the legs, the arms and the hips, and in the
eviscerated abdomen, contained the heart, spleen, the dried brain, the
hair, and the cuttings of the beard and nails. In those days the hair had
a special magical virtue: by burning it while uttering certain
incantations, one might acquire an almost limitless power over the person
to whom it had belonged. The ernbalmers, therefore, took care to place
with the mummy such portions of the hair as they had been obliged to cut
off, so as to remove them out of the way of the perverse ingenuity of the
sorcerers.
Over the first covering of the mummy already alluded to, there was
sometimes placed a strip of papyrus or a long piece of linen, upon which
the scribe had transcribed selections—both text and pictures—from
“The Book of the going forth by Day:” in such cases the roll containing
the whole work was placed between the legs. The body was further wrapped
in several bandages, then in a second piece of stuff, then in more bands,
the whole being finally covered with a shroud of coarse canvas and a red
linen winding-sheet, sewn together at the back, and kept in place by
transverse bands disposed at intervals from head to foot. The son of the
deceased and a “man of the roll” were present at this lugubrious toilet,
and recited at the application of each piece a prayer, in which its object
was defined and its duration secured. Every Egyptian was supposed to be
acquainted with the formulas, from having learned them during his
lifetime, by which he was to have restored to him the use of his limbs,
and be protected from the dangers of the world beyond. These were repeated
to the dead person, however, for greater security, during the process of
embalming, and the son of the deceased, or the master of the ceremonies,
took care to whisper to the mummy the most mysterious parts, which no
living ear might hear with impunity. The wrappings having been completed,
the deceased person became aware of his equipment, and enjoyed all the
privileges of the “instructed and fortified Manes.” He felt himself, both
mummy and double, now ready for the tomb.
Egyptian funerals were not like those to which we are accustomed—mute
ceremonies, in which sorrow is barely expressed by a furtive tear: noise,
sobbings, and wild gestures were their necessary concomitants. Not only
was it customary to hire weeping women, who tore their hair, filled the
air with their lamentations, and simulated by skilful actions the depths
of despair, but the relatives and friends themselves did not shrink from
making an outward show of their grief, nor from disturbing the equanimity
of the passers-by by the immoderate expressions of their sorrow. One after
another they raised their voices, and uttered some expression appropriate
to the occasion: “To the West, the dwelling of Osiris, to the West, thou
who wast the best of men, and who always hated guile.” And the hired
weepers answered in chorus: “O chief,* as thou goest to the West, the gods
themselves lament.” The funeral cortege started in the morning from
the house of mourning, and proceeded at a slow pace to the Nile, amid the
clamours of the mourners.
The route was cleared by a number of slaves and retainers. First came
those who carried cakes and flowers in their hands, followed by others
bearing jars full of water, bottles of liqueurs, and phials of perfumes;
then came those who carried painted boxes intended for the provisions of
the dead man, and for containing the Ushabtiu, or “Respondents.” The
succeeding group bore the usual furniture required by the deceased to set
up house again, coffers for linen, folding and arm chairs, state-beds, and
sometimes even a caparisoned chariot with its quivers. Then came a groom
conducting two of his late master’s favourite horses, who, having
accompanied the funeral to the tomb, were brought back to their stable.
Another detachment, more numerous than the others combined, now filed
past, bearing the effects of the mummy; first the vessels for the
libations, then the cases for the Canopic jars, then the Canopic jars
themselves, the mask of the deceased, coloured half in gold and half in
blue, arms, sceptres, military batons, necklaces, scarabs, vultures with
encircling wings worn on the breast at festival-times, chains,
“Respondents,” and the human-headed sparrow-hawk, the emblem of the soul.
Many of these objects were of wood plated with gold, others of the same
material simply gilt, and others of solid gold, and thus calculated to
excite the cupidity of the crowd. Offerings came next, then a noisy
company of female weepers; then a slave, who sprinkled at every instant
some milk upon the ground as if to lay the dust; then a master of the
ceremonies, who, the panther skin upon his shoulder, asperged the crowd
with perfumed water; and behind him comes the hearse.
The latter, according to custom, was made in the form of a boat—representing
the bark of Osiris, with his ark, and two guardians, Isis and Nephthys—and
was placed upon a sledge, which was drawn by a team of oxen and a relay of
fellahîn. The sides of the ark were, as a rule, formed of movable wooden
panels, decorated with pictures and inscriptions; sometimes, however, but
more rarely, the panels were replaced by a covering of embroidered stuff
or of soft leather. In the latter case the decoration was singularly rich,
the figures and hieroglyphs being cut out with a knife, and the spaces
thus left filled in with pieces of coloured leather, which gave the whole
an appearance of brilliant mosaic-work.*
In place of a boat, a shrine of painted wood, also mounted upon a sledge,
was frequently used. When the ceremony was over, this was left, together
with the coffin, in the tomb.*
The wife and children walked as close to the bier as possible, and were
followed by the friends of the deceased, dressed in long linen garments,*
each of them bearing a wand. The ox-driver, while goading his beasts,
cried out to them: “To the West, ye oxen who draw the hearse, to the West!
Your master comes behind you!” “To the West,” the friends repeated; “the
excellent man lives no longer who loved truth so dearly and hated
lying!”**
This lamentation is neither remarkable for its originality nor for its
depth of feeling. Sorrow was expressed on such occasions in prescribed
formulas of always the same import, custom soon enabling each individual
to compose for himself a repertory of monotonous exclamations of
condolence, of which the prayer, “To the West!” formed the basis, relieved
at intervals by some fresh epithet. The nearest relatives of the deceased,
however, would find some more sincere expressions of grief, and some more
touching appeals with which to break in upon the commonplaces of the
conventional theme. On reaching the bank of the Nile the funeral cortege
proceeded to embark.*
They blended with their inarticulate cries, and the usual protestations
and formulas, an eulogy upon the deceased and his virtues, allusions to
his disposition and deeds, mention of the offices and honours he had
obtained, and reflections on the uncertainty of human life—the whole
forming the melancholy dirge which each generation intoned over its
predecessor, while waiting itself for the same office to be said over it
in its turn.
The bearers of offerings, friends, and slaves passed over on hired barges,
whose cabins, covered externally with embroidered stuffs of several
colours, or with applique leather, looked like the pedestals of a
monument: crammed together on the boats, they stood upright with their
faces turned towards the funeral bark. The latter was supposed to
represent the Noshemît, the mysterious skiff of Abydos, which had been
used in the obsequies of Osiris of yore.
It was elegant, light, and slender in shape, and ornamented at bow and
stern with a lotus-flower of metal, which bent back its head gracefully,
as if bowed down by its own weight. A temple-shaped shrine stood in the
middle of the boat, adorned with bouquets of flowers and with green
palm-branches. The female members of the family of the deceased, crouched
beside the shrine, poured forth lamentations, while two priestesses,
representing respectively Isis and Nephthys, took up positions behind to
protect the body. The boat containing the female mourners having taken the
funeral barge in tow, the entire flotilla pushed out into the stream. This
was the solemn moment of the ceremony—the moment in which the
deceased, torn away from his earthly city, was about to set out upon that
voyage from which there is no return. The crowds assembled on the banks of
the river hailed the dead with their parting prayers: “Mayest thou reach
in peace the West from Thebes! In peace, in peace towards Abydos, mayest
thou descend in peace towards Abydos, towards the sea of the West!”
This crossing of the Nile was of special significance in regard to the
future of the soul of the deceased: it represented his pilgrimage towards
Abydos, to the “Mouth of the Cleft” which gave him access to the other
world, and it was for this reason that the name of Abydos is associated
with that of Thebes in the exclamations of the crowd. The voices of the
friends replied frequently and mournfully: “To the West, to the West, the
land of the justified! The place which thou lovedst weeps and is
desolate!” Then the female mourners took up the refrain, saying: “In
peace, in peace, to the West! O honourable one, go in peace! If it please
God, when the day of Eternity shall shine, we shall see thee, for behold
thou goest to the land which mingles all men together!” The widow then
adds her note to the concert of lamentations: “O my brother, O my husband,
O my beloved, rest, remain in thy place, do not depart from the
terrestrial spot where thou art! Alas, thou goest away to the ferry-boat
in order to cross the stream! O sailors, do not hurry, leave him; you, you
will return to your homes, but he, he is going away to the land of
Eternity! O Osirian bark, why hast thou come to take away from me him who
has left me!” The sailors were, of course, deaf to her appeals, and the
mummy pursued its undisturbed course towards the last stage of its
mysterious voyage.
The majority of the tombs—those which were distributed over the
plain or on the nearest spurs of the hill—were constructed on the
lines of those brick-built pyramids erected on mastabas which were very
common during the early Theban dynasties. The relative proportions of the
parts alone were modified: the mastaba, which had gradually been reduced
to an insignificant base, had now recovered its original height, while the
pyramid had correspondingly decreased, and was much reduced in size. The
chapel was constructed within the building, and the mummy-pit was sunk to
a varying depth below. The tombs ranged along the mountain-side were, on
the other hand, rock-cut, and similar to those at el-Bersheh and
Beni-Hasan.
The heads of wealthy families or the nobility naturally did not leave to
the last moment the construction of a sepulchre worthy of their rank and
fortune. They prided themselves on having “finished their house which is
in the funeral valley when the morning for the hiding away of their body
should come.” Access to these tombs was by too steep and difficult a path
to allow of oxen being employed for the transport of the mummy: the
friends or slaves of the deceased were, therefore, obliged to raise the
sarcophagus on their shoulders and bear it as best they could to the door
of the tomb.
The mummy was then placed in an upright position on a heap of sand, with
its back to the wall and facing the assistants, like the master of some
new villa who, having been accompanied by his friends to see him take
possession, turns for a moment on the threshold to take leave of them
before entering. A sacrifice, an offering, a prayer, and a fresh outburst
of grief ensued; the mourners redoubled their cries and threw themselves
upon the ground, the relatives decked the mummy with flowers and pressed
it to their bared bosoms, kissing it upon the breast and knees. “I am thy
sister, O great one! forsake me not! Is it indeed thy will that I should
leave thee? If I go away, thou shalt be here alone, and is there any one
who will be with thee to follow thee? O thou who lovedst to jest with me,
thou art now silent, thou speakest not!” Whereupon the mourners again
broke out in chorus: “Lamentation, lamentation! Make, make, make, make
lamentation without ceasing as loud as can be made. O good traveller, who
takest thy way towards the land of Eternity, thou hast been torn from us!
O thou who hadst so many around thee, thou art now in the land which
bringest isolation! Thou who lovedst to stretch thy limbs in walking, art
now fettered, bound, swathed! Thou who hadst fine stuffs in abundance, art
laid in the linen of yesterday!” Calm in the midst of the tumult, the
priest stood and offered the incense and libation with the accustomed
words: “To thy double, Osiris Nofirhotpû, whose voice before the great god
is true!” This was the signal of departure, and the mummy, carried by two
men, disappeared within the tomb: the darkness of the other world had laid
hold of it, never to let it go again.
The chapel was usually divided into two chambers: one, which was of
greater width than length, ran parallel to the façade; the other, which
was longer than it was wide, stood at right angles with the former,
exactly opposite to the entrance. The decoration of these chambers took
its inspiration from the scheme which prevailed in the time of the
Memphite dynasties, but besides the usual scenes of agricultural labour,
hunting, and sacrifice, there were introduced episodes from the public
life of the deceased, and particularly the minute portrayal of the
ceremonies connected with his burial.
These pictorial biographies are always accompanied by detailed explanatory
inscriptions; every individual endeavoured thus to show to the Osirian
judges the rank he had enjoyed here upon earth, and to obtain in the
fields of lalû the place which he claimed to be his due.
The stele was to be found at the far end of the second chamber; it was
often let in to a niche in the form of a round-headed doorway, or else it
was replaced by a group of statues, either detached or sculptured in the
rock itself, representing the occupant, his wives and children, who took
the place of the supporters of the double, formerly always hidden within
the serdab. The ceremony of the “Opening of the Mouth” took place in front
of the niche on the day of burial, at the moment when the deceased, having
completed his terrestrial course, entered his new home and took possession
of it for all eternity. The object of this ceremony was, as we know, to
counteract the effects of the embalming, and to restore activity to the
organs of the body whose functions had been suspended by death. The “man
of the roll” and his assistants, aided by the priests, who represented the
“children of Horus,” once more raised the mummy into an upright position
upon a heap of sand in the middle of the chapel, and celebrated in his
behalf the divine mystery instituted by Horus for Osiris. They purified it
both by ordinary and by red water, by the incense of the south and by the
alum of the north, in the same manner as that in which the statues of the
gods were purified at the beginning of the temple sacrifices; they then
set to work to awake the deceased from his sleep: they loosened his shroud
and called back the double who had escaped from the body at the moment of
the death-agony, and restored to him the use of his arms and legs. As soon
as the sacrificial slaughterers had despatched the bull of the south, and
cut it in pieces, the priest seized the bleeding haunch, and raised it to
the lips of the mask as if to invite it to eat; but the lips still
remained closed, and refused to perform their office. The priest then
touched them with several iron instruments hafted on wooden handles, which
were supposed to possess the power of unsealing them.
The “opening” once effected, the double became free, and the
tomb-paintings from thenceforward ceasing to depict the mummy, represented
the double only. They portrayed it “under the form which he had on this
earth,” wearing the civil garb, and fulfilling his ordinary functions. The
corpse was regarded as merely the larva, to be maintained in its integrity
in order to ensure survival; but it could be relegated without fear to the
depths of the bare and naked tomb, there to remain until the end of time,
if it pleased the gods to preserve it from robbers or archaeologists. At
the period of the first Theban empire the coffins were rectangular wooden
chests, made on the models of the limestone and granite sarcophagi, and
covered with prayers taken from the various sacred writings, especially
from the “Book of the Dead”; during the second Theban empire, they were
modified into an actual sheath for the body, following more or less the
contour of the human figure. This external model of the deceased covered
his remains, and his figure in relief served as a lid to the coffin. The
head was covered with the full-dress wig, a tippet of white cambrio half
veiled the bosom, the petticoat fell in folds about the limbs, the feet
were shod with sandals, the arms were outstretched or were folded over the
breast, and the hands clasped various objects—either the crux
ansata, the buckle of the belt, the tat, or a garland of
flowers. Sometimes, on the contrary, the coffin was merely a conventional
reproduction of the human form. The two feet and legs were joined
together, and the modelling of the knee, calf, thigh, and stomach was only
slightly indicated in the wood. Towards the close of the XVIIIth dynasty
it was the fashion for wealthy persons to have two coffins, one fitting
inside the other, painted black or white. From the XXth dynasty onwards
they were coated with a yellowish varnish, and so covered with
inscriptions and mystic signs that each coffin was a tomb in miniature,
and could well have done duty as such, and thus meet all the needs of the
soul.*
Later still, during the XXIst and XXIInd dynasties, these two, or even
three coffins, were enclosed in a rectangular sarcophagus of thick wood,
which, surmounted by a semicircular lid, was decorated with pictures and
hallowed by prayers: four sparrow-hawks, perched on the uprights at the
corners, watched at the four cardinal points, and protected the body,
enabling the soul at the same time to move freely within the four houses
of which the world was composed.
The workmen, after having deposited the mummy in its resting-place, piled
upon the floor of the tomb the canopio jars, the caskets, the provisions,
the furniture, the bed, and the stools and chairs; the Usha-btiu occupied
compartments in their allotted boxes, and sometimes there would be laid
beside them the mummy of a favourite animal—a monkey, a dog of some
rare breed, or a pet gazelle, whose coffins were shaped to their
respective outlines, the better to place before the deceased the
presentment of the living animal.
A few of the principal objects were broken or damaged, in the belief that,
by thus destroying them, their doubles would go forth and accompany the
human double, and render him their accustomed services during the whole of
his posthumous existence; a charm pronounced over them bound them
indissolubly to his person, and constrained them to obey his will. This
done, the priest muttered a final prayer, and the masons walled up the
doorway.
The funeral feast now took place with its customary songs and dances. The
almehs addressed the guests and exhorted them to make good use of
the passing hour: “Be happy for one day! for when you enter your tombs you
will rest there eternally throughout the length of every day!”
Immediately after the repast the friends departed from the tomb, and the
last link which connected the dead with our world was then broken. The
sacred harper was called upon to raise the farewell hymn:*
“O instructed mummies, ennead of the gods of the coffin, who listen to the
praises of this dead man, and who daily extol the virtues of this
instructed mummy, who is living eternally like a god, ruling in Amentît,
ye also who shall live in the memory of posterity, all ye who shall come
and read these hymns inscribed, according to the rites, within the tombs,
repeat: ‘The greatness of the under-world, what is it? The annihilation of
the tomb, why is it?’ It is to conform to the image of the land of
Eternity, the true country where there is no strife and where violence is
held in abhorrence, where none attacks his neighbour, and where none among
our generations who rest within it is rebellious, from the time when your
race first existed, to the moment when it shall become a multitude of
multitudes, all going the same way; for instead of remaining in this land
of Egypt, there is not one but shall leave it, and there is said to all
who are here below, from the moment of their waking to life: ‘Go, prosper
safe and sound, to reach the tomb at length, a chief among the blessed,
and ever mindful in thy heart of the day when thou must lie down on the
funeral bed!’” The ancient song of Antûf, modified in the course of
centuries, was still that which expressed most forcibly the melancholy
thought paramount in the minds of the friends assembled to perform the
last rites. “The impassibility of the chief* is, in truth, the best of
fates!”
“Since the times of the god bodies are created merely to pass away, and
young generations take their place: Râ rises in the morning, Tûmû lies
down to rest in the land of the evening, all males generate, the females
conceive, every nose inhales the air from the morning of their birth to
the day when they go to their place! Be happy then for one day, O man!—May
there ever be perfumes and scents for thy nostrils, garlands and
lotus-flowers for thy shoulders and for the neck of thy beloved sister*
who sits beside thee! Let there be singing and music before thee, and,
forgetting all thy sorrows, think only of pleasure until the day when thou
must enter the country of Marîtsakro, the silent goddess, though all the
same the heart of the son who loves thee will not cease to beat! Be happy
for one day, O man!—I have heard related what befell our ancestors;
their walls are destroyed, their place is no more, they are as those who
have ceased to live from the time of the god! The walls of thy tomb are
strong, thou hast planted trees at the edge of thy pond, thy soul reposes
beneath them and drinks the water; follow that which seemeth good to thee
as long as thou art on earth, and give bread to him who is without land,
that thou mayest be well spoken of for evermore. Think upon the gods who
have lived long ago: their meat offerings fall in pieces as if they had
been torn by a panther, their loaves are defiled with dust, their statues
no longer stand upright within the temple of Râ, their followers beg for
alms! Be happy for one day!”
Those gone before thee “have had their hour of joy,” and they have put off
sadness “which shortens the moments until the day when hearts are
destroyed!—Be mindful, therefore, of the day when thou shalt be
taken to the country where all men are mingled: none has ever taken
thither his goods with him, and no one can ever return from it!” The grave
did not, however, mingle all men as impartially as the poet would have us
believe. The poor and insignificant had merely a place in the common pit,
which was situated in the centre of the Assassîf,* one of the richest
funerary quarters of Thebes.
Yawning trenches stood ever open there, ready to receive their prey; the
rites were hurriedly performed, and the grave-diggers covered the mummies
of the day’s burial with a little sand, out of which we receive them
intact, sometimes isolated, sometimes in groups of twos or threes, showing
that they had not even been placed in regular layers. Some are wrapped
only in bandages of coarse linen, and have been consigned without further
covering to the soil, while others have been bound round with palm-leaves
laid side by side, so as to form a sort of primitive basket. The class
above the poorest people were buried in rough-hewn wooden boxes, smaller
at the feet than towards the head, and devoid of any inscription or
painting. Many have been placed in any coffin that came to hand, with a
total indifference as to suitability of size; others lie in a badly made
bier, made up of the fragments of one or more older biers. None of them
possessed any funerary furniture, except the tools of his trade, a thin
pair of leather shoes, sandals of cardboard or plaited reeds, rings of
terra-cotta or bronze, bracelets or necklets of a single row of blue
beads, statuettes of divinities, mystic eyes, scarabs, and, above all,
cords tied round the neck, arms, limbs, or waist, to keep off, by their
mystic knots, all malign influences.
The whole population of the necropolis made their living out of the dead.
This was true of all ranks of society, headed by the sacerdotal colleges
of the royal chapels,* and followed by the priestly bodies, to whom was
entrusted the care of the tombs in the various sections, but the most
influential of whom confined their attentions to the old burying-ground,
“Isît-mâît,” the True Place.**
It was their duty to keep up the monuments of the kings, and also of
private individuals, to clean the tombs, to visit the funerary chambers,
to note the condition of their occupants, and, if necessary, repair the
damage done by time, and to provide on certain days the offerings
prescribed by custom, or by clauses in the contract drawn up between the
family of the deceased and the religious authorities. The titles of these
officials indicated how humble was their position in relation to the
deified ancestors in whose service they were employed; they called
themselves the “Servants of the True Place,” and their chiefs the
“Superiors of the Servants,” but all the while they were people of
considerable importance, being rich, well educated, and respected in their
own quarter of the town.
They professed to have a special devotion for Amenôthes I. and his mother,
Nofrîtari, who, after five or six centuries of continuous homage, had come
to be considered as the patrons of Khafîtnîbûs, but this devotion was not
to the depreciation of other sovereigns. It is true that the officials
were not always clear as to the identity of the royal remains of which
they had the care, and they were known to have changed one of their queens
or princesses into a king or some royal prince.*
They were surrounded by a whole host of lesser functionaries—bricklayers,
masons, labourers, exorcists, scribes (who wrote out pious formulae for
poor people, or copied the “Books of the going forth by day” for the
mummies), weavers, cabinet-makers, and goldsmiths. The sculptors and the
painters were grouped into guilds;* many of them spent their days in the
tombs they were decorating, while others had their workshops above-ground,
probably very like those of our modern monumental masons.
They kept at the disposal of their needy customers an assortment of
ready-made statues and stelæ, votive tablets to Osiris, Anubis, and other
Theban gods and goddesses, singly or combined. The name of the deceased
and the enumeration of the members of his family were left blank, and were
inserted after purchase in the spaces reserved for the purpose.*
These artisans made the greater part of their livelihood by means of these
epitaphs, and the majority thought only of selling as many of them as they
could; some few, however, devoted themselves to work of a higher kind.
Sculpture had reached a high degree of development under the Thûtmoses and
the Ramses, and the art of depicting scenes in bas-relief had been brought
to a perfection hitherto unknown. This will be easily seen by comparing
the pictures in the old mastabas, such as those of Ti or Phtahhotpû, with
the finest parts of the temples of Qurneh, Abydos, Karnak, Deîr el-Baharî,
or with the scenes in the tombs of Seti I. and Ramses II., or those of
private individuals such as Hûi. The modelling is firm and refined,
showing a skill in the use of the chisel and an elegance of outline which
have never been surpassed: the Amenôthes III. of Luxor and the Khâmhâît of
Sheikh Abd el-Qurneh might serve for models in our own schools of the
highest types which Egyptian art could produce at its best in this
particular branch. The drawing is freer than in earlier examples, the
action is more natural, the composition more studied, and the perspective
less wild. We feel that the artist handled his subject con amore.
He spared no trouble in sketching out his designs and in making studies
from nature, and, as papyrus was expensive, he drew rough drafts, or made
notes of his impressions on the flat chips of limestone with which the
workshops were strewn.
Nothing at that date could rival these sketches for boldness of conception
and freedom in execution, whether it were in the portrayal of the majestic
gait of a king or the agility of an acrobat. Of the latter we have an
example in the Turin Museum. The girl is nude, with the exception of a
tightly fitting belt about her hips, and she is throwing herself backwards
with so natural a motion, that we are almost tempted to expect her to turn
a somersault and fall once more into position with her heels together.
The unfinished figures on the tomb of Seti I. shows with what a steady
hand the clever draughtsman could sketch out his subjects. The head from
the nape of the neck round to the throat is described by a single line,
and the contour of the shoulders is marked by another. The form of the
body is traced by two undulating lines, while the arms and legs are
respectively outlined by two others. The articles of apparel and
ornaments, sketched rapidly at first, had to be gone over again by the
sculptor, who worked out the smallest details. One might almost count the
tresses of the hair, while the folds of the dress and the enamels of the
girdle and bracelets are minutely chiselled.
When the draughtsman had finished his picture from the sketch which he had
made, or when he had enlarged it from a smaller drawing, the master of the
studio would go over it again, marking here and there in red the defective
points, to which the sculptor gave his attention when working the subject
out on the wall. If he happened to make a mistake in executing it, he
corrected it as well as he was able by filling up with stucco or hard
cement the portions to be remodelled, and by starting to work again upon
the fresh surface. This cement has fallen out in some cases, and reveals
to our eyes to-day the marks of the underlying chiselling. There are, for
example, two profiles of Seti I. on one of the bas-reliefs of the
hypostyle hall at Karnak, one faintly outlined, and the other standing
fully out from the surface of the stone. The sense of the picturesque was
making itself felt, and artists were no longer to be excused for
neglecting architectural details, the configuration of the country, the
drawing of rare plants, and, in fact, all those accessories which had been
previously omitted altogether or merely indicated. The necessity of
covering such vast surfaces as the pylons offered had accustomed them to
arrange the various scenes of one and the same action in a more natural
and intimate connexion than their predecessors could possibly have done.
In these scenes the Pharaoh naturally played the chief part, but in place
of choosing for treatment merely one or other important action of the
monarch calculated to exhibit his courage, the artist endeavoured to
portray all the successive incidents in his campaigns, in the same manner
as the early Italian painters were accustomed to depict, one after the
other, and on the same canvas, all the events of the same legend. The
details of these gigantic compositions may sometimes appear childish to
us, and we may frequently be at a loss in determining the relations of the
parts, yet the whole is full of movement, and, although mutilated, gives
us even yet the impression which would have been made upon us by the
turmoil of a battle in those distant days.
The sculptor of statues for a long time past was not a whit less skilful
than the artist who executed bas-reliefs. The sculptor was doubtless often
obliged to give enormous proportions to the figure of the king, to prevent
his being overshadowed by the mass of buildings among which the statue was
to appear; but this necessity of exaggerating the human form did not
destroy in the artist that sense of proportion and that skilful handling
of the chisel which are so strikingly displayed in the sitting scribe or
in the princess at Meîdûm; it merely trained him to mark out deftly the
principal lines, and to calculate the volume and dimensions of these
gigantic granite figures of some fifty to sixty-five feet high, with as
great confidence and skill as he would have employed upon any statue of
ordinary dimensions which might be entrusted to him. The colossal statues
at Abu-Simbel and Thebes still witness to the incomparable skill of the
Theban sculptors in the difficult art of imagining and executing
superhuman types. The decadence of Egyptian art did not begin until the
time of Ramses III., but its downward progress was rapid, and the statues
of the Ramesside period are of little or no artistic value. The form of
these figures is poor, the technique crude, and the expression of the
faces mean and commonplace. They betray the hand of a mechanical workman
who, while still in the possession of the instruments of his trade, can
infuse no new life into the traditions of the schools, nor break away from
them altogether.
We must look, not to the royal studios, but to the workshops connected
with the necropolis, if we want to find statues of half life-size
displaying intelligent workmanship, all of which we might be tempted to
refer to the XVIIIth dynasty if the inscriptions upon them did not fix
their date some two or three centuries later. An example of them may be
seen at Turin in the kneeling scribe embracing a ram-headed altar: the
face is youthful, and has an expression at once so gentle and intelligent
that we are constrained to overlook the imperfections in the bust and legs
of the figure. Specimens of this kind are not numerous, and their rarity
is easily accounted for. The multitude of priests, soldiers, workmen, and
small middle-class people who made up the bulk of the Theban population
had aspirations for a luxury little commensurate with their means, and the
tombs of such people are, therefore, full of objects which simulate a
character they do not possess, and are deceptive to the eye: such were the
statuettes made of wood, substituted from economical motives instead of
the limestone or sandstone statues usually provided as supporters for the
“double.”
The funerary sculptors had acquired a perfect mastery of the kind of art
needed for people of small means, and we find among the medley of
commonplace objects which encumber the tomb they decorated, examples of
artistic works of undoubted excellence, such as the ladies Naî and Tûî now
in the Louvre, the lady Nehaî now at Berlin, and the naked child at Turin.
The lady Tûî in her lifetime had been one of the singing-women of Amon.
She is clad in a tight-fitting robe, which accentuates the contour of the
breasts and hips without coarseness: her right arm falls gracefully
alongside her body, while her left, bent across her chest, thrusts into
her bosom a kind of magic whip, which was the sign of her profession. The
artist was not able to avoid a certain heaviness in the treatment of her
hair, and the careful execution of the whole work was not without a degree
of harshness, but by dint of scraping and polishing the wood he succeeded
in softening the outline, and removing from the figure every sharp point.
The lady Nehaî is smarter and more graceful, in her close-fitting garment
and her mantle thrown over the left elbow; and the artist has given her a
more alert pose and resolute air than we find in the stiff carriage of her
contemporary Tûî. The little girl in the Turin Museum is a looser work,
but where could one find a better example of the lithe delicacy of the
young Egyptian maiden of eight or ten years old? We may see her
counterpart to-day among the young Nubian girls of the cataract, before
they are obliged to wear clothes; there is the same thin chest, the same
undeveloped hips, the same meagre thighs, and the same demeanour, at once
innocent and audacious. Other statuettes represent matrons, some in tight
garments, and with their hair closely confined, others without any garment
whatever.
The Turin example is that of a lady who seems proud of her large
ear-rings, and brings one of them into prominence, either to show it off
or to satisfy herself that the jewel becomes her: her head is
square-shaped, the shoulders narrow, the chest puny, the pose of the arm
stiff and awkward, but the eyes have such a joyful openness, and her smile
such a self-satisfied expression, that one readily over looks the other
defects of the statue. In this collection of miniature figures examples of
men are not wanting, and there are instances of old soldiers, officials,
guardians of temples, and priests proudly executing their office in their
distinctive panther skins. Three individuals in the Gîzeh were
contemporaries, or almost so, of the young girl of the Turin Museum. They
are dressed in rich costumes, to which they have, doubtless, a just claim;
for one of them, Hori, surnamed Râ, rejoiced in the favour of the Pharaoh,
and must therefore have exercised some court function. They seem to step
forth with a measured pace and firm demeanour, the body well thrown back
and the head erect, their faces displaying something of cruelty and
cunning. An officer, whose retirement from service is now spent in the
Louvre, is dressed in a semi-civil costume, with a light wig, a closely
fitting smock-frock with shirt-sleeves, and a loin-cloth tied tightly
round the hips and descending halfway down the thigh, to which is applied
a piece of stuff kilted lengthwise, projecting in front. A colleague of
his, now in the Berlin Museum, still maintains possession of his official
baton, and is arrayed in his striped petticoat, his bracelets and gorget
of gold. A priest in the Louvre holds before him, grasped by both hands,
the insignia of Amon-Ra—a ram’s head, surmounted by the solar disk,
and inserted on the top of a thick handle; another, who has been relegated
to Turin, appears to be placed between two long staves, each surmounted by
an idol, and, to judge from his attitude, seems to have no small idea of
his own beauty and importance. The Egyptians were an observant people and
inclined to satire, and I have a shrewd suspicion that the sculptors, in
giving to such statuettes this character of childlike vanity, yielded to
the temptation to be merry at the expense of their model.
The smelters and engravers in metal occupied in relation to the sculptors
a somewhat exalted position. Bronze had for a long time been employed in
funerary furniture, and ushabtiu (respondents),* amulets, and
images of the gods, as well as of mortals, were cast in this metal. Many
of these tiny figures form charming examples of enamel-work, and are
distinguished not only by the gracefulness of the, modelling, but also by
the brilliance of the superimposed glaze; but the majority of them were
purely commercial articles, manufactured by the hundred from the same
models, and possibly cast, for centuries, from the same moulds for the
edification of the devout and of pilgrims.
We ought not, therefore, to be surprised if they are lacking in
originality; they are no more to be distinguished from each other than the
hundreds of coloured statuettes which one may find on the stalls of modern
dealers in religious statuary.
Here and there among the multitude we may light upon examples showing a
marked individuality: the statuette of the lady Takûshit, which now forms
one of the ornaments of the museum at Athens, is an instance. She stands
erect, one foot in advance, her right arm hanging at her side, her left
pressed against her bosom; she is arrayed in a short dress embroidered
over with religious scenes, and wears upon her ankles and wrists rings of
value. A wig with stiff-looking locks, regularly arranged in rows, covers
her head. The details of the drapery and the ornaments are incised on the
surface of the bronze, and heightened with a thread of silver. The face is
evidently a portrait, and is that apparently of a woman of mature age, but
the body, according to the tradition of the Egyptian schools of art, is
that of a young girl, lithe, firm, and elastic. The alloy contains gold,
and the warm and softened lights reflected from it blend most happily and
harmoniously with the white lines of the designs. The joiners occupied,
after the workers in bronze, an important position in relation to the
necropolis, and the greater part of the furniture which they executed for
the mummies of persons of high rank was remarkable for its painting and
carpentry-work. Some articles of their manufacture were intended for
religious use—such as those shrines, mounted upon sledges, on which
the image of the god was placed, to whom prayers were made for the
deceased; others served for the household needs of the mummy, and, to
distinguish these, there are to be seen upon their sides religious and
funereal pictures, offerings to the two deceased parents, sacrifices to a
god or goddess, and incidents in the Osirian life. The funerary beds
consisted, like those intended for the living, of a rectangular framework,
placed upon four feet of equal height, although there are rare examples in
which the supports are so arranged as to give a gentle slope to the
structure. The fancy which actuated the joiner in making such beds
supposed that two benevolent lions had, of their own free will, stretched
out their bodies to form the two sides of the couch, the muzzles
constituting the pillow, while the tails were curled up under the feet of
the sleeper. Many of the heads given to the lions are so noble and
expressive, that they will well bear comparison with the granite statues
of these animals which Amenôthes III. dedicated in his temple at Soleb.
The other trades depended upon the proportion of their members to the rest
of the community for the estimation in which they were held. The masons,
stone-cutters, and common labourers furnished the most important
contingent; among these ought also to be reckoned the royal servants—of
whose functions we should have been at a loss to guess the importance, if
contemporary documents had not made it clear—fishermen, hunters,
laundresses, wood-cutters, gardeners, and water-carriers.*
Without reckoning the constant libations needed for the gods and the
deceased, the workshops required a large quantity of drinking water for
the men engaged in them. In every gang of workmen, even in the present
day, two or three men are set apart to provide drinking-water for the
rest; in some arid places, indeed, at a distance from the river, such as
the Valley of the Kings, as many water-carriers are required as there are
workmen. To the trades just mentioned must be added the low-caste crowd
depending oh the burials of the rich, the acrobats, female mourners,
dancers and musicians. The majority of the female corporations were
distinguished by the infamous character of their manners, and prostitution
among them had come to be associated with the service of the god.*
There was no education for all this mass of people, and their religion was
of a meagre character. They worshipped the official deities, Amon, Mût,
Isis, and Hâthor, and such deceased Pharaohs as Amenôthes I. and
Nofrîtari, but they had also their own Pantheon, in which animals
predominated—such as the goose of Amon, and his ram Pa-rahaninofir,
the good player on the horn, the hippopotamus, the cat, the chicken, the
swallow, and especially reptiles. Death was personified by a great viper,
the queen of the West, known by the name Marîtsakro, the friend of
silence. Three heads, or the single head of a woman, attached to the one
body, were assigned to it. It was supposed to dwell in the mountain
opposite Karnak, which fact gave to it, as well as to the necropolis
itself, the two epithets of Khafîtnîbûs and Ta-tahnît, that is, The
Summit.*
Its chapel was situated at the foot of the hill of Sheikh Abd el-Qurneh,
but its sacred serpents crawled and wriggled through the necropolis,
working miracles and effecting the cure of the most dangerous maladies.
The faithful were accustomed to dedicate to them, in payment of their
vows, stelas, or slabs of roughly hewn stone, with inscriptions which
witnessed to a deep gratitude. “Hearken! I, from the time of my appearance
on earth, I was a ‘Servant of the True Place,’ Nofirâbû, a stupid ignorant
person, who knew not good from evil, and I committed sin against The
Summit. She punished me, and I was in her hand day and night. I lay
groaning on my couch like a woman in childbed, and I made supplication to
the air, but it did not come to me, for I was hunted down by The Summit of
the West, the brave one among all the gods and all the goddesses of the
city; so I would say to all the miserable sinners among the people of the
necropolis: ‘Give heed to The Summit, for there is a lion in The Summit,
and she strikes as strikes a spell-casting Lion, and she pursues him who
sins against her! ‘I invoked then my mistress, and I felt that she flew to
me like a pleasant breeze; she placed herself upon me, and this made me
recognise her hand, and appeased she returned to me, and she delivered me
from suffering, for she is my life, The Summit of the West, when she is
appeased, and she ought to be invoked!’” There were many sinners, we may
believe, among that ignorant and superstitious population, but the
governors of Thebes did not put their confidence in the local deities
alone to keep them within bounds, and to prevent their evil deeds;
commissioners, with the help of a detachment of Mazaîû, were an additional
means of conducting them into the right way. They had, in this respect, a
hard work to accomplish, for every day brought with it its contingent of
crimes, which they had to follow up, and secure the punishment of the
authors. Nsisûamon came to inform them that the workman Nakhtummaût and
his companions had stolen into his house, and robbed him of three large
loaves, eight cakes, and some pastry; they had also drunk a jar of beer,
and poured out from pure malice the oil which they could not carry away
with them. Panîbi had met the wife of a comrade alone near an
out-of-the-way tomb, and had taken advantage of her notwithstanding her
cries; this, moreover, was not the first offence of the culprit, for
several young girls had previously been victims of his brutality, and had
not ventured up to this time to complain of him on account of the terror
with which he inspired the neighbourhood. Crimes against the dead were
always common; every penniless fellow knew what quantities of gold and
jewels had been entombed with the departed, and these treasures, scattered
around them at only a few feet from the surface of the ground, presented
to them a constant temptation to which they often succumbed. Some were not
disposed to have accomplices, while others associated together, and,
having purchased at a serious cost the connivance of the custodians, set
boldly to work on tombs both recent and ancient. Not content with stealing
the funerary furniture, which they disposed of to the undertakers, they
stripped the mummies also, and smashed the bodies in their efforts to
secure the jewels; then, putting the remains together again, they
rearranged the mummies afresh so cleverly that they can no longer be
distinguished by their outward appearance from the originals, and the
first wrappings must be removed before the fraud can be discovered. From
time to time one of these rogues would allow himself to be taken for the
purpose of denouncing his comrades, and avenging himself for the injustice
of which he was the victim in the division of the spoil; he was laid hold
of by the Mazaîû, and brought before the tribunal of justice. The lands
situated on the left bank of the Nile belonged partly to the king and
partly to the god Amon, and any infraction of the law in regard to the
necropolis was almost certain to come within the jurisdiction of one or
other of them. The commission appointed, therefore, to determine the
damage done in any case, included in many instances the high priest or his
delegates, as well as the officers of the Pharaoh. The office of this
commission was to examine into the state of the tombs, to interrogate the
witnesses and the accused, applying the torture if necessary: when they
had got at the facts, the tribunal of the notables condemned to impalement
some half a dozen of the poor wretches, and caused some score of others to
be whipped.* But, when two or three months had elapsed, the remembrance of
the punishment began to die away, and the depredations began afresh. The
low rate of wages occasioned, at fixed periods, outbursts of discontent
and trouble which ended in actual disturbances. The rations allowed to
each workman, and given to him at the beginning of each month, would
possibly have been sufficient for himself and his family, but, owing to
the usual lack of foresight in the Egyptian, they were often consumed long
before the time fixed, and the pinch soon began to be felt. The workmen,
demoralised by their involuntary abstinence, were not slow to turn to the
overseer; “We are perishing of hunger, and there are still eighteen days
before the next month.” The latter was prodigal of fair speeches, but as
his words were rarely accompanied by deeds, the workmen would not listen
to him; they stopped work, left the workshop in turbulent crowds, ran with
noisy demonstrations to some public place to hold a meeting—perhaps
the nearest monument, at the gate of the temple of Thûtmosis III.,**
behind the chapel of Mînephtah,*** or in the court of that of Seti I.
Their overseers followed them; the police commissioners of the locality,
the Mazaîû, and the scribes mingled with them and addressed themselves to
some of the leaders with whom they might be acquainted. But these would
not at first give them a hearing. “We will not return,” they would say to
the peacemakers; “make it clear to your superiors down below there.” It
must have been manifest that from their point of view their complaints
were well founded, and the official, who afterwards gave an account of the
affair to the authorities, was persuaded of this. “We went to hear them,
and they spoke true words to us.” For the most part these strikes had no
other consequence than a prolonged stoppage of work, until the
distribution of rations at the beginning of the next month gave the
malcontents courage to return to their tasks. Attempts were made to
prevent the recurrence of these troubles by changing the method and time
of payments. These were reduced to an interval of fifteen days, and at
length, indeed, to one of eight. The result was very much the same as
before: the workman, paid more frequently, did not on that account become
more prudent, and the hours of labour lost did not decrease. The
individual man, if he had had nobody to consider but himself, might have
put up with the hardships of his situation, but there were almost always
wife and children or sisters concerned, who clamoured for bread in their
hunger, and all the while the storehouses of the temples or those of the
state close by were filled to overflowing with durrah, barley, and wheat.*
The temptation to break open the doors and to help themselves in the
present necessity must have been keenly felt. Some bold spirits among the
strikers, having set out together, scaled the two or three boundary walls
by which the granaries were protected, but having reached this position
their hearts, failed them, and they contented themselves with sending to
the chief custodian an eloquent pleader, to lay before him their very
humble request: “We are come, urged by famine, urged by thirst, having no
more linen, no more oil, no more fish, no more vegetables. Send to
Pharaoh, our master, send to the king, our lord, that he may provide us
with the necessaries of life.” If one of them, with less self-restraint,
was so carried away as to let drop an oath, which was a capital offence,
saying, “By Amon! by the sovereign, whose anger is death!” if he asked to
be taken before a magistrate in order that he might reiterate there his
complaint, the others interceded for him, and begged that he might escape
the punishment fixed by the law for blasphemy; the scribe, good fellow as
he was, closed his ears to the oath, and, if it were in his power, made a
beginning of satisfying their demands by drawing upon the excess of past
months to such an extent as would pacify them for some days, and by paying
them a supplemental wage in the name of the Pharaoh. They cried out
loudly: “Shall there not be served out to us corn in excess of that which
has been distributed to us; if not we will not stir from this spot?”
At length the end of the month arrived, and they all appeared together
before the magistrates, when they said: “Let the scribe, Khâmoîsît, who is
accountable, be sent for!” He was thereupon brought before the notables of
the town, and they said to him: “See to the corn which thou hast received,
and give some of it to the people of the necropolis.” Pmontunîboîsît was
then sent for, and “rations of wheat were given to us daily.” Famine was
not caused only by the thriftlessness of the multitude: administrators of
all ranks did not hesitate to appropriate, each one according to his
position, a portion of the means entrusted to them for the maintenance of
their subordinates, and the latter often received only instalments of what
was due to them. The culprits often escaped from their difficulties by
either laying hold of half a dozen of their brawling victims, or by
yielding to them a proportion of their ill-gotten gains, before a rumour
of the outbreak could reach head-quarters. It happened from time to time,
however, when the complaints against them were either too serious or too
frequent, that they were deprived of their functions, cited before the
tribunals, and condemned. What took place at Thebes was repeated with some
variations in each of the other large cities. Corruption, theft, and
extortion had prevailed among the officials from time immemorial, and the
most active kings alone were able to repress these abuses, or confine them
within narrow limits; as soon as discipline became relaxed, however, they
began to appear again, and we have no more convincing proof of the state
of decadence into which Thebes had fallen towards the middle of the XXth
dynasty, than the audacity of the crimes committed in the necropolis
during the reigns of the successors of Ramses III.
The priesthood of Amon alone displayed any vigour and enjoyed any
prosperity in the general decline. After the victory of the god over the
heretic kings no one dared to dispute his supremacy, and the Ramessides
displayed a devout humility before him and his ministers. Henceforward he
became united to Râ in a definite manner, and his authority not only
extended over the whole of the land of Egypt, but over all the countries
also which were brought within her influence; so that while Pharaoh
continued to be the greatest of kings, Pharaoh’s god held a position of
undivided supremacy among the deities. He was the chief of the two
Bnneads, the Heliopolitan and the Hermopolitan, and displayed for the
latter a special affection; for the vague character of its eight secondary
deities only served to accentuate the position of the ninth and principal
divinity with whose primacy that of Amon was identified. It was more easy
to attribute to Amon the entire work of creation when Shû, Sibû, Osiris,
and Sit had been excluded—the deities whom the theologians of
Heliopolis had been accustomed to associate with the demiurge; and in the
hymns which they sang at his solemn festivals they did not hesitate to
ascribe to him all the acts which the priests of former times had assigned
to the Ennead collectively. “He made earth, silver, gold,—the true
lapis at his good pleasure.—He brought forth the herbs for the
cattle, the plants upon which men live.—He made to live the fish of
the river,—the birds which hover in the air,—giving air to
those which are in the egg.—He animates the insects,—he makes
to live the small birds, the reptiles, and the gnats as well.—He
provides food for the rat in his hole,—supports the bird upon the
branch.—May he be blessed for all this, he who is alone, but with
many hands.” “Men spring from his two eyes,” and quickly do they lose
their breath while acclaiming him—Egyptians and Libyans, Negroes and
Asiatics: “Hail to thee!” they all say; “praise to thee because thou
dwellest amongst us!—Obeisances before thee because thou createst
us!”—“Thou art blessed by every living thing,—thou hast
worshippers in every place,—in the highest of the heavens, in all
the breadth of the earth,—in the depths of the seas.—The gods
bow before thy Majesty,—magnifying the souls which form them,—rejoicing
at meeting those who have begotten them,—they say to thee: ‘Go in
peace,—father of the fathers of all the gods,—who suspended
the heaven, levelled the earth;—creator of beings, maker of things,—sovereign
king, chief of the gods,—we adore thy souls, because thou hast made
us,—we lavish offerings upon thee, because thou hast given us birth,—we
shower benedictions upon thee, because thou dwellest among us.’” We have
here the same ideas as those which predominate in the hymns addressed to
Atonû,* and in the prayers directed to Phtah, the Nile, Shû, and the
Sun-god of Heliopolis at the same period.
The idea of a single god, lord and maker of all things, continued to
prevail more and more throughout Egypt—not, indeed, among the lower
classes who persisted in the worship of their genii and their animals, but
among the royal family, the priests, the nobles, and people of culture.
The latter believed that the Sun-god had at length absorbed all the
various beings who had been manifested in the feudal divinities: these, in
fact, had surrendered their original characteristics in order to become
forms of the Sun, Amon as well as the others—and the new belief
displayed itself in magnifying the solar deity, but the solar deity united
with the Theban Amon, that is, Amon-Râ. The omnipotence of this one god
did not, however, exclude a belief in the existence of his compeers; the
theologians thought all the while that the beings to whom ancient
generations had accorded a complete independence in respect of their
rivals were nothing more than emanations from one supreme being. If local
pride forced them to apply to this single deity the designation
customarily used in their city—Phtah at Memphis, Anhûri-Shû at
Thinis, Khnûmû in the neighbourhood of the first cataract—they were
quite willing to allow, at the same time, that these appellations were but
various masks for one face. Phtah, Hâpi, Khnûmû, Râ,—all the gods,
in fact,—were blended with each other, and formed but one deity—a
unique existence, multiple in his names, and mighty according to the
importance of the city in which he was worshipped. Hence Amon, lord of the
capital and patron of the dynasty, having more partisans, enjoyed more
respect, and, in a word, felt himself possessed of more claims to be the
sole god of Egypt than his brethren, who could not claim so many
worshippers. He did not at the outset arrogate to himself the same empire
over the dead as he exercised over the living; he had delegated his
functions in this respect to a goddess, Marîtsakro, for whom the poorer
inhabitants of the left bank entertained a persistent devotion. She was a
kind of Isis or hospitable Hathor, whose subjects in the other world
adapted themselves to the nebulous and dreary existence provided for their
disembodied “doubles.” The Osirian and solar doctrines were afterwards
blended together in this local mythology, and from the XIth dynasty
onwards the Theban nobility had adopted, along with the ceremonies in use
in the Memphite period, the Heliopolitan beliefs concerning the wanderings
of the soul in the west, its embarkation on the solar ship, and its
resting-places in the fields of Ialû. The rock-tombs of the XVIIIth
dynasty demonstrate that the Thebans had then no different concept of
their life beyond the world from that entertained by the inhabitants of
the most ancient cities: they ascribed to that existence the same
inconsistent medley of contradictory ideas, from which each one might
select what pleased him best—either repose in a well-provisioned
tomb, or a dwelling close to Osiris in the middle of a calm and agreeable
paradise, or voyages with Râ around the world.*
The fusion of Râ and Amon, and the predominance of the solar idea which
arose from it, forced the theologians to examine more closely these
inconsistent notions, and to eliminate from them anything which might be
out of harmony with the new views. The devout servant of Amon, desirous of
keeping in constant touch with his god both here and in the other would,
could not imagine a happier future for his soul than in its going forth in
the fulness of light by day, and taking refuge by night on the very bark
which carried the object of his worship through the thick darkness of,
Hades. To this end he endeavoured to collect the formulae which would
enable him to attain to this supreme happiness, and also inform him
concerning the hidden mysteries of that obscure half of the world in which
the sun dwelt between daylight and daylight, teaching him also how to make
friends and supporters of the benevolent genii, and how to avoid or defeat
the monsters whom he would encounter. The best known of the books relating
to these mysteries contained a geographical description of the future
world as it was described by the Theban priests towards the end of the
Ramesside period; it was, in fact, an itinerary in which was depicted each
separate region of the underworld, with its gates, buildings, and
inhabitants.*
The account of it given by the Egyptian theologians did not exhibit much
inventive genius. They had started with the theory that the sun, after
setting exactly west of Thebes, rose again due east of the city, and they
therefore placed in the dark hemisphere all the regions of the universe
which lay to the north of those two points of the compass. The first stage
of the sun’s journey, after disappearing below the horizon, coincided with
the period of twilight; the orb travelled along the open sky, diminishing
the brightness of his fires as he climbed northward, and did not actually
enter the underworld till he reached Abydos, close to the spot where, at
the “Mouth of the Cleft,” the souls of the faithful awaited him. As soon
as he had received them into his boat, he plunged into the tunnel which
there pierces the mountains, and the cities through which he first passed
between Abydos and the Fayûm were known as the Osirian fiefs. He continued
his journey through them for the space of two hours, receiving the homage
of the inhabitants, and putting such of the shades on shore as were
predestined by their special devotion for the Osiris of Abydos and his
associates, Horus and Anubis, to establish themselves in this territory.
Beyond Heracleopolis, he entered the domains of the Memphite gods, the
“land of Sokaris,” and this probably was the most perilous moment of his
journey.
The feudatories of Phtah were gathered together in grottoes, connected by
a labyrinth of narrow passages through which even the most fully initiated
were scarcely able to find their way; the luminous boat, instead of
venturing within these catacombs, passed above them by mysterious tracks.
The crew were unable to catch a glimpse of the sovereign through whose
realm they journeyed, and they in like manner were invisible to him; he
could only hear the voices of the divine sailors, and he answered them
from the depth of the darkness. Two hours were spent in this obscure
passage, after which navigation became easier as the vessel entered the
nomes subject to the Osirises of the Delta: four consecutive hours of
sailing brought the bark from the province in which the four principal
bodies of the god slept to that in which his four souls kept watch, and,
as it passed, it illuminated the eight circles reserved for men and kings
who worshipped the god of Mendes. From the tenth hour onwards it directed
its course due south, and passed through the Aûgàrît, the place of fire
and abysmal waters to which the Heliopolitans consigned the souls of the
impious; then finally quitting the tunnel, it soared up in the east with
the first blush of dawn. Each of the ordinary dead was landed at that
particular hour of the twelve, which belonged to the god of his choice or
of his native town. Left to dwell there they suffered no absolute torment,
but languished in the darkness in a kind of painful torpor, from which
condition the approach of the bark alone was able to rouse them. They
hailed its daily coming with acclamations, and felt new life during the
hour in which its rays fell on them, breaking out into lamentations as the
bark passed away and the light disappeared with it. The souls who were
devotees of the sun escaped this melancholy existence; they escorted the
god, reduced though he was to a mummied corpse, on his nightly cruise, and
were piloted by him safe and sound to meet the first streaks of the new
day. As the boat issued from the mountain in the morning between the two
trees which flanked the gate of the east, these souls had their choice of
several ways of spending the day on which they were about to enter. They
might join their risen god in his course through the hours of light, and
assist him in combating Apophis and his accomplices, plunging again at
night into Hades without having even for a moment quitted his side.
They might, on the other hand, leave him and once more enter the world of
the living, settling themselves where they would, but always by preference
in the tombs where their bodies awaited them, and where they could enjoy
the wealth which had been accumulated there: they might walk within their
garden, and sit beneath the trees they had planted; they could enjoy the
open air beside the pond they had dug, and breathe the gentle north breeze
on its banks after the midday heat, until the time when the returning
evening obliged them to repair once more to Abydos, and re-embark with the
god in order to pass the anxious vigils of the night under his protection.
Thus from the earliest period of Egyptian history the life beyond the tomb
was an eclectic one, made up of a series of earthly enjoyments combined
together.
The Pharaohs had enrolled themselves instinctively among the most ardent
votaries of this complex doctrine. Their relationship to the sun made its
adoption a duty, and its profession was originally, perhaps, one of the
privileges of their position. Râ invited them on board because they were
his children, subsequently extending this favour to those whom they should
deem worthy to be associated with them, and thus become companions of the
ancient deceased kings of Upper and Lower Egypt.*
The idea which the Egyptians thus formed of the other world, and of the
life of the initiated within it, reacted gradually on their concept of the
tomb and of its befitting decoration. They began to consider the entrances
to the pyramid, and its internal passages and chambers, as a conventional
representation of the gates, passages, and halls of Hades itself; when the
pyramid passed out of fashion, and they had replaced it by a tomb cut in
the rock in one or other of the branches of the Bab el-Moluk valley, the
plan of construction which they chose was an exact copy of that employed
by the Memphites and earlier Thebans, and they hollowed out for themselves
in the mountain-side a burying-place on the same lines as those formerly
employed within the pyramidal structure. The relative positions of the
tunnelled tombs along the valley were not determined by any order of rank
or of succession to the throne; each Pharaoh after Ramses I. set to work
on that part of the rock where the character of the stone favoured his
purpose, and displayed so little respect for his predecessors, that the
workmen, after having tunnelled a gallery, were often obliged to abandon
it altogether, or to change the direction of their excavations so as to
avoid piercing a neighbouring tomb. The architect’s design was usually a
mere project which could be modified at will, and, which he did not feel
bound to carry out with fidelity; the actual measurements of the tomb of
Ramses IV. are almost everywhere at variance with the numbers and
arrangement of the working drawing of it which has been preserved to us in
a papyrus. The general disposition of the royal tombs, however, is far
from being complicated; we have at the entrance the rectangular door,
usually surmounted by the sun, represented by a yellow disk, before which
the sovereign kneels with his hands raised in the posture of adoration;
this gave access to a passage sloping gently downwards, and broken here
and there by a level landing and steps, leading to a first chamber of
varying amplitude, at the further end of which a second passage opened
which descended to one or more apartments, the last of which, contained
the coffin. The oldest rock-tombs present some noteworthy exceptions to
this plan, particularly those of Seti I. and Ramses III.; but from the
time of Ramses IV., there is no difference to be remarked in them except
in the degree of finish of the wall-paintings or in the length of the
passages. The shortest of the latter extends some fifty-two feet into the
rock, while the longest never exceeds three hundred and ninety feet. The
same artifices which had been used by the pyramid-builders to defeat the
designs of robbers—false mummy-pits, painted and sculptured walls
built across passages, stairs concealed under a movable stone in the
corner of a chamber—were also employed by the Theban engineers. The
decoration of the walls was suggested, as in earlier times, by the needs
of the royal soul, with this difference—that the Thebans set
themselves to render visible to his eyes by paintings that which the
Memphites had been content to present to his intelligence in writing, so
that the Pharaoh could now see what his ancestors had been able merely to
read on the walls of their tombs. Where the inscribed texts in the
burial-chamber of Unas state that Unas, incarnate in the Sun, and thus
representing Osiris, sails over the waters on high or glides into the
Elysian fields, the sculptured or painted scenes in the interior of the
Theban catacombs display to the eye Ramses occupying the place of the god
in the solar bark and in the fields of laid. Where the walls of Unas bear
only the prayers recited over the mummy for the opening of his mouth, for
the restoration of the use of his limbs, for his clothing, perfuming, and
nourishment, we see depicted on those of Seti I. or Ramses IV. the mummies
of these kings and the statues of their doubles in the hands of the
priests, who are portrayed in the performance of these various offices.
The starry ceilings of the pyramids reproduce the aspect of the sky, but
without giving the names of the stars: on the ceilings of some of the
Ramesside rock-tombs, on the other hand, the constellations are
represented, each with its proper figure, while astronomical tables give
the position of the heavenly bodies at intervals of fifteen days, so that
the soul could tell at a glance into what region of the firmament the
course of the bark would bring him each night. In the earlier Ramesside
tombs, under Seti I. and Ramses II., the execution of these subjects shows
evidence of a care and skill which are quite marvellous, and both figures
and hieroglyphics betray the hand of accomplished artists. But in the tomb
of Ramses III. the work has already begun to show signs of inferiority,
and the majority of the scenes are coloured in a very summary fashion; a
raw yellow predominates, and the tones of the reds and blues remind us of
a child’s first efforts at painting. This decline is even more marked
under the succeeding Ramessides; the drawing has deteriorated, the tints
have become more and more crude, and the latest paintings seem but a
lamentable caricature of the earlier ones.
The courtiers and all those connected with the worship of Amon-Râ—priests,
prophets, singers, and functionaries connected with the necropolis—shared
the same belief with regard to the future world as their sovereign, and
they carried their faith in the sun’s power to the point of identifying
themselves with him after death, and of substituting the name of Râ for
that of Osiris; they either did not venture, however, to go further than
this, or were unable to introduce into their tombs all that we find in the
Bab el-Moluk. They confined themselves to writing briefly on their own
coffins, or confiding to the mummies of their fellow-believers, in
addition to the “Book of the Dead,” a copy of the “Book of knowing what
there is in Hades,” or of some other mystic writing which was in harmony
with their creed. Hastily prepared copies of these were sold by
unscrupulous scribes, often badly written and almost always incomplete, in
which were hurriedly set down haphazard the episodes of the course of the
sun with explanatory illustrations. The representations of the gods in
them are but little better than caricatures, the text is full of faults
and scarcely decipherable, and it is at times difficult to recognize the
correspondence of the scenes and prayers with those in the royal tombs.
Although Amon had become the supreme god, at least for this class of the
initiated, he was by no means the sole deity worshipped by the Egyptians:
the other divinities previously associated with him still held their own
beside him, or were further defined and invested with a more decided
personality. The goddess regarded as his partner was at first represented
as childless, in spite of the name of Maût or Mût—the mother—by
which she was invoked, and Amon was supposed to have adopted Montû, the
god of Hermonthis, in order to complete his triad. Montû, however,
formerly the sovereign of the Theban plain, and lord over Amon himself,
was of too exalted a rank to play the inferior part of a divine son.
The priests were, therefore, obliged to fall back upon a personage of
lesser importance, named Khonsû, who up to that period had been relegated
to an obscure position in the celestial hierarchy. How they came to
identify him with the moon, and subsequently with Osiris and Thot, is as
yet unexplained,* but the assimilation had taken place before the XIXth
dynasty drew to its close. Khonsû, thus honoured, soon became a favourite
deity with both the people and the upper classes, at first merely
supplementing Montû, but finally supplanting him in the third place of the
Triad. From the time of Sesostris onwards, Theban dogma acknowledged him
alone side by side with Amon-Râ and Mût the divine mother.
It was now incumbent on the Pharaoh to erect to this newly made favourite
a temple whose size and magnificence should be worthy of the rank to which
his votaries had exalted him. To this end, Ramses III. chose a suitable
site to the south of the hypostyle hall of Karnak, close to a corner of
the enclosing wall, and there laid the foundations of a temple which his
successors took nearly a century to finish.*
Its proportions are by no means perfect, the sculpture is wanting in
refinement, the painting is coarse, and the masonry was so faulty, that it
was found necessary in several places to cover it with a coat of stucco
before the bas-reliefs could be carved on the walls; yet, in spite of all
this, its general arrangement is so fine, that it may well be regarded, in
preference to other more graceful or magnificent buildings, as the typical
temple of the Theban period. It is divided into two parts, separated from
each other by a solid wall. In the centre of the smaller of these is
placed the Holy of Holies, which opens at both ends into a passage ten
feet in width, isolating it from the surrounding buildings. To the right
and left of the sanctuary are dark chambers, and behind it is a hall
supported by four columns, into which open seven small apartments. This
formed the dwelling-place of the god and his compeers. The sanctuary
communicates, by means of two doors placed in the southern wall, with a
hypostyle hall of greater width than depth, divided by its pillars into a
nave and two aisles. The four columns of the nave are twenty-three feet in
height, and have bell-shaped capitals, while those of the aisles, two on
either side, are eighteen feet high, and are crowned with lotiform
capitals.
The roof of the nave was thus five feet higher than those of the aisles,
and in the clear storey thus formed, stone gratings, similar to those in
the temple of Amon, admitted light to the building. The courtyard,
surrounded by a fine colonnade of two rows of columns, was square, and was
entered by four side posterns in addition to the open gateway at the end
placed between two quadrangular towers.
This pylon measures 104 feet in length, and is 32 feet 6 inches wide, by
58 feet high. It contains no internal chambers, but merely a narrow
staircase which leads to the top of the doorway, and thence to the summit
of the towers. Four long angular grooves run up the façade of the towers
to a height of about twenty feet from the ground, and are in the same line
with a similar number of square holes which pierce the thickness of the
building higher up. In these grooves were placed Venetian masts, made of
poles spliced together and held in their place by means of hooks and
wooden stays which projected from the four holes; these masts were to
carry at their tops pennons of various colours. Such was the temple of
Khonsû, and the majority of the great Theban buildings—at Luxor,
Qurneh, and Bamesseum, or Medinet-Uabu—were constructed on similar
lines. Even in their half-ruined condition there is something oppressive
and uncanny in their appearance. The gods loved to shroud themselves in
mystery, and, therefore, the plan of the building was so arranged as to
render the transition almost imperceptible from the blinding sunlight
outside to the darkness of their retreat within. In the courtyard, we are
still surrounded by vast spaces to which air and light have free access.
The hypostyle hall, however, is pervaded by an appropriate twilight, the
sanctuary is veiled in still deeper darkness, while in the chambers beyond
reigns an almost perpetual night. The effect produced by this gradation of
obscurity was intensified by constructional artifices. The different parts
of the building are not all on the same ground-level, the pavement rising
as the sanctuary is approached, and the rise is concealed by a few steps
placed at intervals. The difference of level in the temple of Khonsû is
not more than five feet three inches, but it is combined with a still more
considerable lowering of the height of the roof. From the pylon to the
wall at the further end the height decreases as we go on; the peristyle is
more lofty than the hypostyle hall, this again is higher than the
sanctuary and the hall of columns, and the chamber beyond it drops still
further in altitude.*
Karnak is an exception to this rule; this temple had in the course of
centuries undergone so many restorations and additions, that it formed a
collection of buildings rather than a single edifice. It might have been
regarded, as early as the close of the Theban empire, as a kind of museum,
in which every century and every period of art, from the XIIth dynasty
downwards, had left its distinctive mark.*
All the resources of architecture had been brought into requisition during
this period to vary, at the will of each sovereign, the arrangement and
the general effect of the component parts. Columns with sixteen sides
stand in the vicinity of square pillars, and lotiform capitals alternate
with those of the bell-shape; attempts were even made to introduce new
types altogether. The architect who built at the back of the sanctuary
what is now known as the colonnade of Thûtmosis III., attempted to invert
the bell-shaped capital; the bell was turned downwards, and the neck
attached to the plinth, while the mouth rested on the top of the shaft.
This awkward arrangement did not meet with favour, for we find it nowhere
repeated; other artists, however, with better taste, sought at this time
to apply the flowers symbolical of Upper and Lower Egypt to the
decorations of the shafts. In front of the sanctuary of Karnak two pillars
are still standing which have on them in relief representations
respectively of the fullblown lotus and the papyrus. A building composed
of so many incongruous elements required frequent restoration—a wall
which had been undermined by water needed strengthening, a pylon
displaying cracks claimed attention, some unsafe colonnade, or a colossus
which had been injured by the fall of a cornice, required shoring up—so
that no sooner had the corvée for repairs completed their work in one
part, than they had to begin again elsewhere.
The revenues of Amon must, indeed, have been enormous to have borne the
continual drain occasioned by restoration, and the resources of the god
would soon have been exhausted had not foreign wars continued to furnish
him during several centuries with all or more than he needed.
The gods had suffered severely in the troublous times which had followed
the reign of Seti II., and it required all the generosity of Ramses III.
to compensate them for the losses they had sustained during the anarchy
under Arisû. The spoil taken from the Libyans, from the Peoples of the
Sea, and from the Hittites had flowed into the sacred treasuries, while
the able administration of the sovereign had done the rest, so that on the
accession of Ramses IV. the temples were in a more prosperous state than
ever.* They held as their own property 169 towns, nine of which were in
Syria and Ethiopia; they possessed 113,433 slaves of both sexes, 493,386
head of cattle, 1,071,780 arurse of land, 514 vineyards and orchards, 88
barks and sea-going vessels, 336 kilograms of gold both in ingots and
wrought, 2,993,964 grammes of silver, besides quantities of copper and
precious stones, and hundreds of storehouses in which they kept corn, oil,
wine, honey, and preserved meats—the produce of their domains. Two
examples will suffice to show the extent of this latter item: the live
geese reached the number of 680,714, and the salt or smoked fish that of
494,800.** Amon claimed the giant share of this enormous total, and
three-fourths of it or more were reserved for his use, namely—-86,486
slaves, 421,362 head of cattle, 898,168 arurse of cornland, 433
vineyards and orchards, and 56 Egyptian towns. The nine foreign towns all
belonged to him, and one of them contained the temple in which he was
worshipped by the Syrians whenever they came to pay their tribute to the
king’s representatives: it was but just that his patrimony should surpass
that of his compeers, since the conquering Pharaohs owed their success to
him, who, without the co-operation of the other feudal deities, had
lavished victories upon them.
His domain was at least five times more considerable than that of Râ of
Heliopolis, and ten times greater than that of the Memphite Phtah, and yet
of old, in the earlier times of history, Râ and Phtah were reckoned the
wealthiest of the Egyptian gods. It is easy to understand the influence
which a god thus endowed with the goods of this world exercised over men
in an age when the national wars had the same consequences for the
immortals as for their worshippers, and when the defeat of a people was
regarded as a proof of the inferiority of its patron gods. The most
victorious divinity became necessarily the wealthiest, before whom all
other deities bowed, and whom they, as well as their subjects, were
obliged to serve.
So powerful a god as Amon had but few obstacles to surmount before
becoming the national deity; indeed, he was practically the foremost of
the gods during the Ramesside period, and was generally acknowledged as
Egypt’s representative by all foreign nations.* His priests shared in the
prestige he enjoyed, and their influence in state affairs increased
proportionately with his power.
The chief of their hierarchy, however, did not bear the high titles which
in ancient times distinguished those of Memphis and Heliopolis; he was
content with the humble appellation of first prophet of Amon. He had for
several generations been nominated by the sovereign, but he was generally
chosen from the families attached hereditarily or otherwise to the temple
of Karnak, and must previously have passed through every grade of the
priestly hierarchy. Those who aspired to this honour had to graduate as
“divine fathers;” this was the first step in the initiation, and one at
which many were content to remain, but the more ambitious or favoured
advanced by successive stages to the dignity of third, and then of second,
prophet before attaining to the highest rank.*
The Pharaohs of the XIXth dynasty jealously supervised the promotions made
in the Theban temples, and saw that none was elected except him who was
devoted to their interests—such as, for example, Baûkûni-khonsû and
Unnofri under Ramses II. Baûkûni-khonsû distinguished himself by his
administrative qualities; if he did not actually make the plans for the
hypostyle hall at Karnak, he appears at least to have superintended its
execution and decoration. He finished the great pylon, erected the
obelisks and gateways, built the bari or vessel of the god, and
found a further field for his activity on the opposite bank of the Nile,
where he helped to complete both the chapel at Qurneh and also the
Ramesseum. Ramses II. had always been able to make his authority felt by
the high priests who succeeded Baûkûni-khonsû, but the Pharaohs who
followed him did not hold the reins with such a strong hand. As early as
the reigns of Mînephtah and Seti II. the first prophets, Raî and Ramâ,
claimed the right of building at Karnak for their own purposes, and
inscribed on the walls long inscriptions in which their own panegyrics
took precedence of that of the sovereign; they even aspired to a religious
hegemony, and declared themselves to be the “chief of all the prophets of
the gods of the South and North.” We do not know what became of them
during the usurpation of Arisû, but Nakhtû-ramses, son of Miribastît, who
filled the office during the reign of Ramses III., revived these ambitious
projects as soon as the state of Egypt appeared to favour them. The king,
however pious he might be, was not inclined to yield up any of his
authority, even though it were to the earthly delegate of the divinity
whom he reverenced before all others; the sons of the Pharaoh were,
however, more accommodating, and Nakhtû-ramses played his part so well
that he succeeded in obtaining from them the reversion of the high
priesthood for his son Amenôthes. The priestly office, from having been
elective, was by this stroke suddenly made hereditary in the family. The
kings preserved, it is true, the privilege of confirming the new
appointment, and the nominee was not considered properly qualified until
he had received his investiture from the sovereign.*
Practically the Pharaohs lost the power of choosing one among the sons of
the deceased pontiff; they were forced to enthrone the eldest of his
survivors, and legalise his accession by their approbation, even when they
would have preferred another. It was thus that a dynasty of vassal High
Priests came to be established at Thebes side by side with the royal
dynasty of the Pharaohs.
The new priestly dynasty was not long in making its power felt in Thebes.
Nakhtû-ramses and Amenôthes lived to a great age—from the reign of
Ramses III. to that of Ramses X., at the least; they witnessed the
accession of nine successive Pharaohs, and the unusual length of their
pontificates no doubt increased the already extraordinary prestige which
they enjoyed throughout the length and breadth of Egypt. It seemed as if
the god delighted to prolong the lives of his representatives beyond the
ordinary limits, while shortening those of the temporal sovereigns. When
the reigns of the Pharaohs began once more to reach their normal length,
the authority of Amenôthes had become so firmly established that no human
power could withstand it, and the later Ramessides were merely a set of
puppet kings who were ruled by him and his successors. Not only was there
a cessation of foreign expeditions, but the Delta, Memphis, and Ethiopia
were alike neglected, and the only activity displayed by these Pharaohs,
as far as we can gather from their monuments, was confined to the service
of Amon and Khonsû at Thebes. The lack of energy and independence in these
sovereigns may not, however, be altogether attributable to their
feebleness of character; it is possible that they would gladly have
entered on a career of conquest had they possessed the means. It is always
a perilous matter to allow the resources of a country to fall into the
hands of a priesthood, and to place its military forces at the same time
in the hands of the chief religious authority. The warrior Pharaohs had
always had at their disposal the spoils obtained from foreign nations to
make up the deficit which their constant gifts to the temples were making
in the treasury. The sons of Ramses III., on the other hand, had suspended
all military efforts, without, however, lessening their lavish gifts to
the gods, and they must, in the absence of the spoils of war, have drawn
to a considerable extent upon the ordinary resources of the country; their
successors therefore found the treasury impoverished, and they would have
been entirely at a loss for money had they attempted to renew the
campaigns or continue the architectural work of their forefathers. The
priests of Amon had not as yet suffered materially from this diminution of
revenue, for they possessed property throughout the length and breadth of
Egypt, but they were obliged to restrict their expenditure, and employ the
sums formerly used for the enlarging of the temples on the maintenance of
their own body. Meanwhile public works had been almost everywhere
suspended; administrative discipline became relaxed, and disturbances,
with which the police were unable to cope, were increasing in all the
important towns. Nothing is more indicative of the state to which Egypt
was reduced, under the combined influence of the priesthood and the
Ramessides, than the thefts and pillaging of which the Theban necropolis
was then the daily scene. The robbers no longer confined themselves to
plundering the tombs of private persons; they attacked the royal
burying-places, and their depredations were carried on for years before
they were discovered. In the reign of Ramses IX., an inquiry, set on foot
by Amenôthes, revealed the fact that the tomb of Sovkûmsaûf I. and his
wife, Queen Nûbk-hâs, had been rifled, that those of Amenôthes I. and of
Antuf IV. had been entered by tunnelling, and that some dozen other royal
tombs in the cemetery of Drah abu’l Neggah were threatened.*
The severe means taken to suppress the evil were not, however, successful;
the pillagings soon began afresh, and the reigns of the last three
Ramessides between the robbers and the authorities, were marked by a
struggle in which the latter did not always come off triumphant.
A system of repeated inspections secured the valley of Biban el-Moluk from
marauders,* but elsewhere the measures of defence employed were
unavailing, and the necropolis was given over to pillage, although both
Amenôthes and Hrihor had used every effort to protect it.
Hrihor appears to have succeeded immediately after Amenôthes, and his
accession to the pontificate gave his family a still more exalted position
in the country. As his wife Nozmit was of royal blood, he assumed titles
and functions to which his father and grandfather had made no claim. He
became the “Royal Son” of Ethiopia and commander-in-chief of the national
and foreign troops; he engraved his name upon the monuments he decorated,
side by side with that of Ramses XII.; in short, he possessed all the
characteristics of a Pharaoh except the crown and the royal protocol. A
century scarcely had elapsed since the abdication of Ramses III., and now
Thebes and the whole of Egypt owned two masters: one the embodiment of the
ancient line, but a mere nominal king; the other the representative of
Amon, and the actual ruler of the country.
What then happened when the last Ramses who bore the kingly title was
gathered to his fathers? The royal lists record the accession after his
death of a new dynasty of Tanitic origin, whose founder was Nsbindidi or
Smendes; but, on the other hand, we gather from the Theban monuments that
the crown was seized by Hrihor, who reigned over the southern provinces
contemporaneously with Smendes. Hrihor boldly assumed as prenomen his
title of “First Prophet of Amon,” and his authority was acknowledged by
Ethiopia, over which he was viceroy, as well as by the nomes forming the
temporal domain of the high priests. The latter had acquired gradually,
either by marriage or inheritance, fresh territory for the god, in the
lands of the princes of Nekhabît, Kop-tos, Akhmîm, and Abydos, besides the
domains of some half-dozen feudal houses who, from force of circumstances,
had become sacerdotal families; the extinction of the direct line of
Ramessides now secured the High Priests the possession of Thebes itself,
and of all the lands within the southern provinces which were the appanage
of the crown.
They thus, in one way or another, became the exclusive masters of the
southern half of the Nile valley, from Elephantine to Siut; beyond Siut
also they had managed to acquire suzerainty over the town of Khobît, and
the territory belonging to it formed an isolated border province in the
midst of the independent baronies.*
The representative of the dynasty reigning at Tanis held the remainder of
Egypt from Shit to the Mediterranean—the half belonging to the
Memphite Phtah and the Helio-politan Râ, as opposed to that assigned to
Anion. The origin of this Tanite sovereign is uncertain, but it would
appear that he was of more exalted rank than his rival in the south. The
official chronicling of events was marked by the years of his reign, and
the chief acts of the government were carried out in his name even in the
Thebaid.* Repeated inundations had caused the ruin of part of the temple
of Karnak, and it was by the order and under the auspices of this prince
that all the resources of the country were employed to accomplish the
much-needed restoration.**
It would have been impossible for him to have exercised any authority over
so rich and powerful a personage as Hrihor had he not possessed rights to
the crown, before which even the high priests of Amon were obliged to bow,
and hence it has been supposed that he was a descendant of Ramses II. The
descendants of this sovereign were doubtless divided into at least two
branches, one of which had just become extinct, leaving no nearer heir
than Hrihor, while another, of which there were many ramifications, had
settled in the Delta. The majority of these descendants had become mingled
with the general population, and had sunk to the condition of private
individuals; they had, however, carefully preserved the tradition of their
origin, and added proudly to their name the qualification of royal son of
Ramses. They were degenerate scions of the Ramessides, and had neither the
features nor the energy of their ancestor. One of them, Zodphta-haûfônkhi,
whose mummy was found at Deîr el-Baharî, appears to have been tall and
vigorous, but the head lacks the haughty refinement which characterizes
those of Seti I. and Ramses II., and the features are heavy and coarse,
having a vulgar, commonplace expression.
It seems probable that one branch of the family, endowed with greater
capability than the rest, was settled at Tanis, where Sesostris had, as we
have seen, resided for many years; Smendes was the first of this branch to
ascend the throne. The remembrance of his remote ancestor, Ramses IL,
which was still treasured up in the city he had completely rebuilt, as
well as in the Delta into which he had infused new life, was doubtless of
no small service in securing the crown for his descendant, when, the line
of the Theban kings having come to an end, the Tanites put in their claim
to the succession. We are unable to discover if war broke out between the
two competitors, or if they arrived at an agreement without a struggle;
but, at all events, we may assume that, having divided Egypt between them,
neither of them felt himself strong enough to overcome his rival, and
contented himself with the possession of half the empire, since he could
not possess it in its entirety. We may fairly believe that Smendes had the
greater right to the throne, and, above all, the more efficient army of
the two, since, had it been otherwise, Hrihor would never have consented
to yield him the priority.
The unity of Egypt was, to outward appearances, preserved, through the
nominal possession by Smendes of the suzerainty; but, as a matter of fact,
it had ceased to exist, and the fiction of the two kingdoms had become a
reality for the first time within the range of history. Henceforward there
were two Egypts, governed by different constitutions and from widely
remote centres. Theban Egypt was, before all things, a community
recognizing a theocratic government, in which the kingly office was merged
in that of the high priest. Separated from Asia by the length of the
Delta, it turned its attention, like the Pharaohs of the VIth and XIIth
dynasties, to Ethiopia, and owing to its distance from the Mediterranean,
and from the new civilization developed on its shores, it became more and
more isolated, till at length it was reduced to a purely African state.
Northern Egypt, on the contrary, maintained contact with European and
Asiatic nations; it took an interest in their future, it borrowed from
them to a certain extent whatever struck it as being useful or beautiful,
and when the occasion presented itself, it acted in concert with
Mediterranean powers. There was an almost constant struggle between these
two divisions of the empire, at times breaking out into an open rupture,
to end as often in a temporary re-establishment of unity. At one time
Ethiopia would succeed in annexing Egypt, and again Egypt would seize some
part of Ethiopia; but the settlement of affairs was never final, and the
conflicting elements, brought with difficulty into harmony, relapsed into
their usual condition at the end of a few years. A kingdom thus divided
against itself could never succeed in maintaining its authority over those
provinces which, even in the heyday of its power, had proved impatient of
its yoke.
Asia was associated henceforward in the minds of the Egyptians with
painful memories of thwarted ambitions, rather than as offering a field
for present conquest. They were pursued by the memories of their former
triumphs, and the very monuments of their cities recalled what they were
anxious to forget. Wherever they looked within their towns they
encountered the representation of some Asiatic scene; they read the names
of the cities of Syria on the walls of their temples; they saw depicted on
them its princes and its armies, whose defeat was recorded by the
inscriptions as well as the tribute which they had been forced to pay. The
sense of their own weakness prevented the Egyptians from passing from
useless regrets to action; when, however, one or other of the Pharaohs
felt sufficiently secure on the throne to carry his troops far afield, he
was always attracted to Syria, and crossed her frontiers, often, alas!
merely to encounter defeat.
THE RISE OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE
PHOENICIA AND THE NORTHERN NATIONS AFTER THE DEATH OP RAMSES III.—THE
FIRST ASSYRIAN EMPIRE: TIGLATH-PILESUR I.—THE ARAMÆANS AND THE
KHÂTI.
The continuance of Egyptian influence over Syrian civilization after
the death of Ramses III.—Egyptian myths in Phoenicia: Osiris and
Isis at Byblos—Horus, Thot, and the origin of the Egyptian alphabet—The
tombs at Arvad and the Kabr-Hiram; Egyptian designs in Phoenician glass
and goldsmiths’work—Commerce with Egypt, the withdrawal of
Phoenician colonies in the Ægean Sea and the Achæans in Cyprus; maritime
expeditions in the Western Mediterranean.
Northern Syria: the decadence of the Hittites and the steady growth of
the Aramæan tribes—The decline of the Babylonian empire under the
Cossæan kings, and its relations with Egypt: Assuruballit, Bammdn-nirdri
I. and the first Assyrian conquests—Assyria, its climate, provinces,
and cities: the god Assur and his Ishtar—The wars against Chaldæa:
Shalmaneser I., Tulculi-ninip I., and the taking of Babylon—Belchadrezzar
and the last of the Cosssæans.
The dynasty of Pashê: Nebuchadrezzar I., his disputes with Elam, his
defeat by Assurrîshishî—The legend of the first Assyrian empire,
Ninos and Semiramis—The Assyrians and their political constitution:
the limmu, the king and his divine character, his hunting and his wars—The
Assyrian army: the infantry and chariotry, the crossing of rivers, mode of
marching in the plains and in the mountain districts—Camps, battles,
sieges; cruelty shown to the vanquished, the destruction of towns and the
removal of the inhabitants, the ephemeral character of the Assyrian
conquests.
Tiglath pileser I.: Ms campaign against the Mushhu, his conquest of
Kurhhi and of the regions of the Zab—The petty Asiatic kingdoms and
their civilization: art and writing in the old Hittite states—Tiglath-pileser
I. in Nairi and in Syria: his triumphal stele at Sebbeneh-Su—His
buildings, his hunts, his conquest of Babylon—Merodach-nadin-akhi
and the close of the Pashê dynasty—Assur-belkala and Samsi-rammân
III.: the decline of Assyria—Syria without a foreign rider: the
incapacity of the Khdti to give unity to the country.
CHAPTER II—THE RISE OF THE ASSYRIAN EMPIRE
Phoenicia and the northern nations after the death of Ramses III.—The
first Assyrian empire: Tiglath-pileser I.—The Aramoans and the
Khâti.
The cessation of Egyptian authority over countries in which it had so long
prevailed did not at once do away with the deep impression which it had
made upon their constitution and customs. While the nobles and citizens of
Thebes were adopting the imported worship of Baal and Astartê, and were
introducing into the spoken and written language words borrowed from
Semitic speech, the Syrians, on the other hand, were not unreceptive of
the influence of their conquerors. They had applied themselves zealously
to the study of Egyptian arts, industry and religion, and had borrowed
from these as much, at least, as they had lent to the dwellers on the
Nile. The ancient Babylonian foundation of their civilization was not,
indeed, seriously modified, but it was covered over, so to speak, with an
African veneer which varied in depth according to the locality.*
Phoenicia especially assumed and retained this foreign exterior. Its
merchants, accustomed to establish themselves for lengthened periods in
the principal trade-centres on the Nile, had become imbued therein with
something of the religious ideas and customs of the land, and on returning
to their own country had imported these with them and propagated them in
their neighbourhood. They were not content with other household utensils,
furniture, and jewellery than those to which they had been accustomed on
the Nile, and even the Phonician gods seemed to be subject to this
appropriating mania, for they came to be recognised in the indigenous
deities of the Said and the Delta. There was, at the outset, no trait in
the character of Baalat by which she could be assimilated to Isis or
Hathor: she was fierce, warlike, and licentious, and wept for her lover,
while the Egyptian goddesses were accustomed to shed tears for their
husbands only. It was this element of a common grief, however, which
served to associate the Phonician and Egyptian goddesses, and to produce
at length a strange blending of their persons and the legends concerning
them; the lady of Byblos ended in becoming an Isis or a Hathor,* and in
playing the part assigned to the latter in the Osirian drama.
* The assimilation must have been ancient, since the Egyptians of the
Theban dynasties already accepted Baalat as the Hathor of Byblos.
This may have been occasioned by her city having maintained closer
relationships than the southern towns with Bûto and Mendes, or by her
priests having come to recognise a fundamental agreement between their
theology and that of Egypt. In any case, it was at Byblos that the most
marked and numerous, as well as the most ancient, examples of borrowing
from the religions of the Nile were to be found. The theologians of Byblos
imagined that the coffin of Osiris, after it had been thrown into the sea
by Typhon, had been thrown up on the land somewhere near their city at the
foot of a tamarisk, and that this tree, in its rapid growth, had gradually
enfolded within its trunk the body and its case. King Malkander cut it
down in order to use it as a support for the roof of his palace: a
marvellous perfume rising from it filled the apartments, and it was not
long before the prodigy was bruited abroad. Isis, who was travelling
through the world in quest of her husband, heard of it, and at once
realised its meaning: clad in rags and weeping, she sat down by the well
whither the women of Byblos were accustomed to come every morning and
evening to draw water, and, being interrogated by them, refused to reply;
but when the maids of Queen Astartê* approached in their turn, they were
received by the goddess in the most amiable manner—Isis deigning
even to plait their hair, and to communicate to them the odour of myrrh
with which she herself was impregnated.
Their mistress came to see the stranger who had thus treated her servants,
took her into her service, and confided to her the care of her lately born
son. Isis became attached to the child, adopted it for her own, after the
Egyptian manner, by inserting her finger in its mouth; and having passed
it through the fire during the night in order to consume away slowly
anything of a perishable nature in its body, metamorphosed herself into a
swallow, and flew around the miraculous pillar uttering plaintive cries.
Astartê came upon her once while she was bathing the child in the flame,
and broke by her shrieks of fright the charm of immortality. Isis was only
able to reassure her by revealing her name and the object of her presence
there. She opened the mysterious tree-trunk, anointed it with essences,
and wrapping it in precious cloths, transmitted it to the priests of
Byblos, who deposited it respectfully in their temple: she put the coffin
which it contained on board ship, and brought it, after many adventures,
into Egypt. Another tradition asserts, however, that Osiris never found
his way back to his country: he was buried at Byblos, this tradition
maintained, and it was in his honour that the festivals attributed by the
vulgar to the young Adonis were really celebrated. A marvellous fact
seemed to support this view. Every year a head of papyrus, thrown into the
sea at some unknown point of the Delta, was carried for six days along the
Syrian coast, buffeted by wind and waves, and on the seventh was thrown up
at Byblos, where the priests received it and exhibited it solemnly to the
people.* The details of these different stories are not in every case very
ancient, but the first fact in them carries us back to the time when
Byblos had accepted the sovereignty of the Theban dynasties, and was
maintaining daily commercial and political relations with the inhabitants
of the Nile valley.**
The city proclaimed Horus to be a great god.* El-Kronos allied himself
with Osiris as well as with Adonis; Isis and Baalat became blended
together at their first encounter, and the respective peoples made an
exchange of their deities with the same light-heartedness as they
displayed in trafficking with the products of their soil or their
industry.
After Osiris, the Ibis Thot was the most important among the deities who
had emigrated to Asia. He was too closely connected with the Osirian cycle
to be forgotten by the Phoenicians after they had adopted his companions.
We are ignorant of the particular divinity with whom he was identified, or
would be the more readily associated from some similarity in the
pronunciation of his name: we know only that he still preserved in his new
country all the power of his voice and all the subtilty of his mind. He
occupied there also the position of scribe and enchanter, as he had done
at Thebes, Memphis, Thinis, and before the chief of each Heliopolitan
Ennead. He became the usual adviser of El-Kronos at Byblos, as he had been
of Osiris and Horus; he composed charms for him, and formulae which
increased the warlike zeal of his partisans; he prescribed the form and
insignia of the god and of his attendant deities, and came finally to be
considered as the inventor of letters.*
The epoch, indeed, in which he became a naturalised Phoenician coincides
approximately with a fundamental revolution in the art of writing—that
in which a simple and rapid stenography was substituted for the
complicated and tedious systems with which the empires of the ancient
world had been content from their origin. Tyre, Sidon, Byblos, Arvad, had
employed up to this period the most intricate of these systems. Like most
of the civilized nations of Western Asia, they had conducted their
diplomatic and commercial correspondence in the cuneiform character
impressed upon clay tablets. Their kings had had recourse to a Babylonian
model for communicating to the Amenôthes Pharaohs the expression of their
wishes or their loyalty; we now behold them, after an interval of four
hundred years and more*—during which we have no examples of their
monuments—possessed of a short and commodious script, without the
encumbrance of ideograms, determinatives, polyphony and syllabic sounds,
such as had fettered the Egyptian and Chaldæan scribes, in spite of their
cleverness in dealing with them. Phonetic articulations were ultimately
resolved into twenty-two sounds, to each of which a special sign was
attached, which collectively took the place of the hundreds or thousands
of signs formerly required.
This was an alphabet, the first in point of time, but so ingenious and so
pliable that the majority of ancient and modern nations have found it able
to supply all their needs—Greeks and Europeans of the western
Mediterranean on the one hand, and Semites of all kinds, Persians and
Hindus on the other.
It must have originated between the end of the XVIIIth and the beginning
of the XXIst dynasties, and the existence of Pharaonic rule in Phoenicia
during this period has led more than one modern scholar to assume that it
developed under Egyptian influence.*
Some affirm that it is traceable directly to the hieroglyphs, while others
seek for some intermediary in the shape of a cursive script, and find this
in the Hieratic writing, which contains, they maintain, prototypes of all
the Phoenician letters. Tables have been drawn up, showing at a glance the
resemblances and differences which appear respectively to justify or
condemn their hypothesis. Perhaps the analogies would be more evident and
more numerous if we were in possession of inscriptions going back nearer
to the date of origin. As it is, the divergencies are sufficiently
striking to lead some scholars to seek the prototype of the alphabet
elsewhere—either in Babylon, in Asia Minor, or even in Crete, among
those barbarous hieroglyphs which are attributed to the primitive
inhabitants of the island. It is no easy matter to get at the truth amid
these conflicting theories. Two points only are indisputable; first, the
almost unanimous agreement among writers of classical times in ascribing
the first alphabet to the Phoenicians; and second, the Phonician origin of
the Greek, and afterwards of the Latin alphabet which we employ to-day.
To return to the religion of the Phoenicians: the foreign deities were not
content with obtaining a high place in the estimation of priests and
people; they acquired such authority over the native gods that they
persuaded them to metamorphose themselves almost completely into Egyptian
divinities.
One finds among the majority of them the emblems commonly used in the
Pharaonic temples, sceptres with heads of animals, head-dress like the
Pschent, the crux ansata, the solar disk, and the winged scarab.
The lady of Byblos placed the cow’s horns upon her head from the moment
she became identified with Hathor.* The Baal of the neighbouring Arvad—probably
a form of Bashuf—was still represented as standing upright on his
lion in order to traverse the high places: but while, in the monument
which has preserved the figure of the god, both lion and mountain are
given according to Chaldæan tradition, he himself, as the illustration
shows, is dressed after the manner of Egypt, in the striped and plaited
loin-cloth, wears a large necklace on his neck and bracelets on his arms,
and bears upon his head the white mitre with its double plume and the
Egyptian uraaus.**
He brandishes in one hand the weapon of the victor, and is on the point of
despatching with it a lion, which he has seized by the tail with the
other, after the model of the Pharaonic hunters, Amenôthes I. and
Thûtmosis III. The lunar disk floating above his head lends to him, it is
true, a Phonician character, but the winged sun of Heliopolis hovering
above the disk leaves no doubt as to his Egyptian antecedents.*
The worship, too, offered to these metamorphosed gods was as much changed
as the deities themselves; the altars assumed something of the Egyptian
form, and the tabernacles were turned into shrines, which were decorated
at the top with a concave groove, or with a frieze made up of repetitions
of the uraeus. Egyptian fashions had influenced the better classes so far
as to change even their mode of dealing with the dead, of which we find in
not a few places clear evidence. Travellers arriving in Egypt at that
period must have been as much astonished as the tourist of to-day by the
monuments which the Egyptians erected for their dead.
The pyramids which met their gaze, as soon as they had reached the apex of
the Delta, must have far surpassed their ideas of them, no matter how
frequently they may have been told about them, and they must have been at
a loss to know why such a number of stones should have been brought
together to cover a single corpse. At the foot of these colossal
monuments, lying like a pack of hounds asleep around their master, the
mastabas of the early dynasties were ranged, half buried under the sand,
but still visible, and still visited on certain days by the descendants of
their inhabitants, or by priests charged with the duty of keeping them up.
Chapels of more recent generations extended as a sort of screen before the
ancient tombs, affording examples of the two archaic types combined—the
mastaba more or less curtailed in its proportions, and the pyramid with a
more or less acute point. The majority of these monuments are no longer in
existence, and only one of them has come down to us intact—that
which Amenôthes III. erected in the Serapeum at Memphis in honour of an
Apis which had died in his reign.
Phoenicians visiting the Nile valley must have carried back with them to
their native country a remembrance of this kind of burying-place, and have
suggested it to their architects as a model. One of the cemeteries at
Arvad contains a splendid specimen of this imported design.*
It is a square tower some thirty-six feet high; the six lower courses
consist of blocks, each some sixteen and a half feet long, joined to each
other without mortar. The two lowest courses project so as to form a kind
of pedestal for the building. The cornice at the top consists of a deep
moulding, surmounted by a broad flat band, above which rises the pyramid,
which attains a height of nearly thirty feet. It is impossible to deny
that it is constructed on a foreign model; it is not a slavish imitation,
however, but rather an adaptation upon a rational plan to the conditions
of its new home. Its foundations rest on nothing but a mixture of soil and
sand impregnated with water, and if vaults had been constructed beneath
this, as in Egypt, the body placed there would soon have corrupted away,
owing to the infiltration of moisture. The dead bodies were, therefore,
placed within the structure above ground, in chambers corresponding to the
Egyptian chapel, which were superimposed the one upon the other. The first
storey would furnish space for three bodies, and the second would contain
twelve, for which as many niches were provided. In the same cemetery we
find examples of tombs which the architect has constructed, not after an
Egyptian, but a Chaldæan model. A round tower is here substituted for the
square structure and a cupola for the pyramid, while the cornice is
represented by crenellated markings. The only Egyptian feature about it is
the four lions, which seem to support the whole edifice upon their backs.*
Arvad was, among Phoenician cities, the nearest neighbour to the kingdoms
on the Euphrates, and was thus the first to experience either the brunt of
an attack or the propagation of fashions and ideas from these countries.
In the more southerly region, in the country about Tyre, there are fewer
indications of Babylonian influence, and such examples of burying-places
for the ruling classes as the Kabr-Hiram and other similar tombs
correspond with the mixed mastaba of the Theban period. We have the same
rectangular base, but the chapel and its crowning pyramid are represented
by the sarcophagus itself with its rigid cover. The work is of an
unfinished character, and carelessly wrought, but there is a charming
simplicity about its lines and a harmony in its proportions which betray
an Egyptian influence.
The spirit of imitation which we find in the religion and architecture of
Phoenicia is no less displayed in the minor arts, such as goldsmiths’work,
sculpture in ivory, engraving on gems, and glass-making. The forms,
designs, and colours are all rather those of Egypt than of Chaldæa. The
many-hued glass objects, turned out by the manufacturers of the Said in
millions, furnished at one time valuable cargoes for the Phoenicians; they
learned at length to cast and colour copies of these at home, and imitated
their Egyptian models so successfully that classical antiquity was often
deceived by them.*
Their engravers, while still continuing to employ cones and cylinders of
Babylonian form, borrowed the scarab type also, and made use of it on the
bezils of rings, the pendants of necklaces, and on a kind of bracelet used
partly for ornament and partly as a protective amulet. The influence of
the Egyptian model did not extend, however, amongst the masses, and we
find, therefore, no evidence of it in the case of common objects, such as
those of coarse sand or glazed earthenware. Egyptian scarab forms were
thus confined to the rich, and the material upon which they are found is
generally some costly gem, such as cut and polished agate, onyx,
haematite, and lapis-lazuli. The goldsmiths did not slavishly copy the
golden and silver bowls which were imported from the Delta; they took
their inspiration from the principles displayed in the ornamentation of
these objects, but they treated the subjects after their own manner,
grouping them afresh and blending them with new designs. The intrinsic
value of the metal upon which these artistic conceptions had been
impressed led to their destruction, and among the examples which have come
down to us I know of no object which can be traced to the period of the
Egyptian conquest. It was Theban art for the most part which furnished the
Phoenicians with their designs. These included the lotus, the papyrus, the
cow standing in a thicket and suckling her calf, the sacred bark, and the
king threatening with his uplifted arm the crowd of conquered foes who lie
prostrate before him.
The king’s double often accompanied him on some of the original objects,
impassive and armed with the banner bearing the name of Horus. The
Phoenician artist modified this figure, which in its original form did not
satisfy his ideas of human nature, by transforming it into a protective
genius, who looks with approval on the exploits of his protégé, and
gathers together the corpses of those he has slain. Once these designs had
become current among the goldsmiths, they continued to be supplied for a
long period, without much modification, to the markets of the Eastern and
Western worlds. Indeed, it was natural that they should have taken a
stereotyped form, when we consider that the Phoenicians who employed them
held continuous commercial relations with the country whence they had come—a
country of which, too, they recognised the supremacy. Egypt in the
Ramesside period was, as we have seen, distinguished for the highest
development of every branch of industry; it had also a population which
imported and exported more raw material and more manufactured products
than any other.
The small nation which acted as a commercial intermediary between Egypt
and the rest of the world had in this traffic a steady source of profit,
and even in providing Egypt with a single article—for example,
bronze, or the tin necessary for its preparation—could realise
enormous profits. The people of Tyre and Sidon had been very careful not
to alienate the good will of such rich customers, and as long as the
representatives of the Pharaoh held sway in Syria, they had shown
themselves, if not thoroughly trustworthy vassals, at least less turbulent
than their neighbours of Arvad and Qodshû. Even when the feebleness and
impotence of the successors of Ramses III. relieved them from the
obligation of further tribute, they displayed towards their old masters
such deference that they obtained as great freedom of trade with the ports
of the Delta as they had enjoyed in the past. They maintained with these
ports the same relations as in the days of their dependence, and their
ships sailed up the river as far as Memphis, and even higher, while the
Egyptian galleys continued to coast the littoral of Syria. An official
report addressed to Hrihor by one of the ministers of the Theban Amon,
indicates at one and the same time the manner in which these voyages were
accomplished, and the dangers to which their crews were exposed. Hrihor,
who was still high priest, was in need of foreign timber to complete some
work he had in hand, probably the repair of the sacred barks, and
commanded the official above mentioned to proceed by sea to Byblos, to
King Zikarbâl,* in order to purchase cedars of Lebanon.
The messenger started from Tanis, coasted along Kharu, and put into the
harbour of Dor, which then belonged to the Zakkala: while he was
revictualling his ship, one of the sailors ran away with the cash-box. The
local ruler, Badilu, expressed at first his sympathy at this misfortune,
and gave his help to capture the robber; then unaccountably changing his
mind he threw the messenger into prison, who had accordingly to send to
Egypt to procure fresh funds for his liberation and the accomplishment of
his mission. Having arrived at Byblos, nothing occurred there worthy of
record. The wood having at length been cut and put on board, the ship set
sail homewards. Driven by contrary winds, the vessel was thrown upon the
coast of Alasia, where the crew were graciously received by the Queen
Khatiba. We have evidence everywhere, it may be stated, as to the friendly
disposition displayed, either with or without the promptings of interest,
towards the representative of the Theban pontiff. Had he been ill-used,
the Phoenicians living on Egyptian territory would have been made to
suffer for it.
Navigators had to take additional precautions, owing to the presence of
Ægean or Asiatic pirates on the routes followed by the mercantile marine,
which rendered their voyages dangerous and sometimes interrupted them
altogether. The Syrian coast-line was exposed to these marauders quite as
much as the African had been during the sixty or eighty years which
followed the death of Ramses II.; the seamen of the north—Achæans
and Tyrseni, Lycians and Shardanians—had pillaged it on many
occasions, and in the invasion which followed these attacks it experienced
as little mercy as Naharaim, the Khâti, and the region of the Amorites.
The fleets which carried the Philistines, the Zakkala, and their allies
had devastated the whole coast before they encountered the Egyptian ships
of Ramses III. near Magadîl, to the south of Carmel. Arvad as well as Zahi
had succumbed to the violence of their attack, and if the cities of
Byblos, Berytus, Sidon, and Tyre had escaped, their suburbs had been
subjected to the ravages of the foe.*
Peace followed the double victory of the Egyptians, and commerce on the
Mediterranean resumed once more its wonted ways, but only in those regions
where the authority of the Pharaoh and the fear of his vengeance were
effective influences. Beyond this sphere there were continual warfare,
piracy, migrations of barbaric hordes, and disturbances of all kinds,
among which, if a stranger ventured, it was at the almost certain risk of
losing his life or liberty. The area of undisturbed seas became more and
more contracted in proportion as the memory of past defeats faded away.
Cyprus was not comprised within it, and the Ægeans, who were restrained by
the fear of Egypt from venturing into any region under her survey,
perpetually flocked thither in numerous bodies. The Achæans, too, took up
their abode on this island at an early date—about the time when some
of their bands were infesting Libya, and offering their help to the
enemies of the Pharaoh. They began their encroachments on the northern
side of the island—the least rich, it is true, but the nearest to
Cilicia, and the easiest to hold against the attacks of their rivals. The
disaster of Piriu had no doubt dashed their hopes of finding a settlement
in Egypt: they never returned thither any more, and the current of
emigration which had momentarily inclined towards the south, now set
steadily towards the east, where the large island of Cyprus offered an
unprotected and more profitable field of adventure. We know not how far
they penetrated into its forests and its interior. The natives began, at
length, under their influence, to despise the customs and mode of
existence with which they had been previously contented: they acquired a
taste for pottery rudely decorated after the Mycenean manner, for
jewellery, and for the bronze swords which they had seen in the hands of
the invaders. The Phoenicians, in order to maintain their ground against
the intruders, had to strengthen their ancient posts or found others—such
as Carpasia, Gerynia, and Lapathos on the Achæan coast itself, Tamassos
near the copper-mines, and a new town, Qart-hadashât, which is perhaps
only the ancient Citium under a new name.* They thus added to their
earlier possessions on the island regions on its northern side, while the
rest either fell gradually into the hands of Hellenic adventurers, or
continued in the possession of the native populations. Cyprus served
henceforward as an advance-post against the attacks of Western nations,
and the Phoenicians must have been thankful for the good fortune which had
made them see the wisdom of fortifying it. But what became of their
possessions lying outside Cyprus? They retained several of them on the
southern coasts of Asia Minor, and Rhodes remained faithful to them, as
well as Thasos, enabling them to overlook the two extremities of the
Archipelago;** but, owing to the movements of the People of the Sea and
the political development of the Mycenean states, they had to give up the
stations and harbours of refuge which they held in the other islands or on
the continent.
They still continued, however, to pay visits to these localities—sometimes
in the guise of merchants and at others as raiders, according to their
ancient custom. They went from port to port as of old, exposing their
wares in the market-places, pillaging the farms and villages, carrying
into captivity the women and children whom they could entice on board, or
whom they might find defenceless on the strand; but they attempted all
this with more risk than formerly, and with less success. The inhabitants
of the coast were possessed of fully manned ships, similar in form to
those of the Philistines or the Zakkala, which, at the first sight of the
Phoenicians, set out in pursuit of them, or, following the example set by
their foe, lay in wait for them behind some headland, and retaliated upon
them for their cruelty. Piracy in the Archipelago was practised as a
matter of course, and there was no islander who did not give himself up to
it when the opportunity offered, to return to his honest occupations after
a successful venture. Some kings seem to have risen up here and there who
found this state of affairs intolerable, and endeavoured to remedy it by
every means within their power: they followed on the heels of the corsairs
and adventurers, whatever might be their country; they followed them up to
their harbours of refuge, and became an effective police force in all
parts of the sea where they were able to carry their flag. The memory of
such exploits was preserved in the tradition of the Cretan empire which
Minos had constituted, and which extended its protection over a portion of
continental Greece.
If the Phoenicians had had to deal only with the piratical expeditions of
the peoples of the coast or with the jealous watchfulness of the rulers of
the sea, they might have endured the evil, but they had now to put up, in
addition, with rivalry in the artistic and industrial products of which
they had long had the monopoly. The spread of art had at length led to the
establishment of local centres of production everywhere, which bade fair
to vie with those of Phoenicia. On the continent and in the Cyclades there
were produced statuettes, intaglios, jewels, vases, weapons, and textile
fabrics which rivalled those of the East, and were probably much cheaper.
The merchants of Tyre and Sidon could still find a market, however, for
manufactures requiring great technical skill or displaying superior taste—such
as gold or silver bowls, engraved or decorated with figures in outline—but
they had to face a serious falling off in their sales of ordinary goods.
To extend their commerce they had to seek new and less critical markets,
where the bales of their wares, of which the Ægean population was becoming
weary, would lose none of their attractions. We do not know at what date
they ventured to sail into the mysterious region of the Hesperides, nor by
what route they first reached it. It is possible that they passed from
Crete to Cythera, and from this to the Ionian Islands and to the point of
Calabria, on the other side of the straits of Otranto, whence they were
able to make their way gradually to Sicily.*
Did the fame of their discovery, we may ask, spread so rapidly in the East
as to excite there the cupidity and envy of their rivals? However this may
have been, the People of the Sea, after repeated checks in Africa and
Syria, and feeling more than ever the pressure of the northern tribes
encroaching on them, set out towards the west, following the route pursued
by the Phoenicians. The traditions current among them and collected
afterwards by the Greek historians give an account, mingled with many
fabulous details, of the causes which led to their migrations and of the
vicissitudes which they experienced in the course of them. Daedalus having
taken flight from Crete to Sicily, Minos, who had followed in his steps,
took possession of the greater part of the island with his Eteocretes.
Iolaos was the leader of Pelasgic bands, whom he conducted first into
Libya and finally to Sardinia. It came also to pass that in the days of
Atys, son of Manes, a famine broke out and raged throughout Lydia: the
king, unable to provide food for his people, had them numbered, and
decided by lot which of the two halves of the population should expatriate
themselves under the leadership of his son Tyrsenos. Those-who were thus
fated to leave their country assembled at Smyrna, constructed ships there,
and having embarked on board of them what was necessary, set sail in quest
of a new home. After a long and devious voyage, they at length disembarked
in the country of the Umbrians, where they built cities, and became a
prosperous people under the name of Tyrseni, being thus called after their
leader Tyrsenos.*
The remaining portions of the nations who had taken part in the attack on
Egypt—of which several tribes had been planted by Ramses III. in the
Shephelah, from Gaza to Carmel—proceeded in a series of successive
detachments from Asia Minor and the Ægean Sea to the coasts of Italy and
of the large islands; the Tursha into that region which was known
afterwards as Etruria, the Shardana into Sardinia, the Zakkala into
Sicily, and along with the latter some Pulasati, whose memory is still
preserved on the northern slope of Etna. Fate thus brought the Phonician
emigrants once more into close contact with their traditional enemies, and
the hostility which they experienced in their new settlements from the
latter was among the influences which determined their further migration
from Italy proper, and from the region occupied by the Ligurians between
the Arno and the Ebro. They had already probably reached Sardinia and
Corsica, but the majority of their ships had sailed to the southward, and
having touched at Malta, Gozo, and the small islands between Sicily and
the Syrtes, had followed the coast-line of Africa, until at length they
reached the straits of Gribraltar and the southern shores of Spain. No
traces remain of their explorations, or of their early establishments in
the western Mediterranean, as the towns which they are thought—with
good reason in most instances—to have founded there belong to a much
later date. Every permanent settlement, however, is preceded by a period
of exploration and research, which may last for only a few years or be
prolonged to as many centuries. I am within the mark, I think, in assuming
that Phonician adventurers, or possibly even the regular trading ships of
Tyre and Sidon, had established relations with the semi-barbarous chiefs
of Botica as early as the XIIth century before our era, that is, at the
time when the power of Thebes was fading away under the weak rule of the
pontiffs of Amon and the Tanite Pharaohs.
The Phoenicians were too much absorbed in their commercial pursuits to
aspire to the inheritance which Egypt was letting slip through her
fingers. Their numbers were not more than sufficient to supply men for
their ships, and they were often obliged to have recourse to their allies
or to mercenary tribes—the Leleges or Carians—in order to
provide crews for their vessels or garrisons for their trading posts; it
was impossible, therefore, for them to think of raising armies fit to
conquer or keep in check the rulers on the Orontes or in Naharaim. They
left this to the races of the interior—the Amorites and Hittites—and
to their restless ambition. The Hittite power, however, had never
recovered from the terrible blow inflicted on it at the time of the
Asianic invasion.
The confederacy of feudal chiefs, which had been brought momentarily
together by Sapalulu and his successors, was shattered by the violence of
the shock, and the elements of which it was composed were engaged
henceforward in struggles with each other. At this time the entire plain
between the Amanus and the Euphrates was covered with rich cities, of
which the sites are represented to-day by only a few wretched villages or
by heaps of ruins. Arabian and Byzantine remains sometimes crown the
summit of the latter, but as soon as we reach the lower strata we find in
more or less abundance the ruins of buildings of the Greek or Persian
period, and beneath these those belonging to a still earlier time. The
history of Syria lies buried in such sites, and is waiting only for a
patient and wealthy explorer to bring it to light.* The Khâti proper were
settled to the south of the Taurus in the basin of the Sajur, but they
were divided into several petty states, of which that which possessed
Carchemish was the most important, and exercised a practical hegemony over
the others. Its chiefs alone had the right to call themselves kings of the
Khâti. The Patinu, who were their immediate neighbours on the west,
stretched right up to the Mediterranean above the plains of Naharairn and
beyond the Orontes; they had absorbed, it would seem, the provinces of the
ancient Alasia. Aramaeans occupied the region to the south of the Patinu
between the two Lebanon ranges, embracing the districts of Hamath and
Qobah.**
The valleys of the Amanus and the southern slopes of the Taurus included
within them some half-dozen badly defined principalities—Samalla on
the Kara-Su,* Gurgum** around Marqasi, the Qui*** and Khilakku**** in the
classical Cilicia, and the Kasku^ and Kummukh^^ in a bend of the Euphrates
to the north and north-east of the Khâti.
The ancient Mitanni to the east of Carchemish, which was so active in the
time of the later Amenôthes, had now ceased to exist, and there was but a
vague remembrance of its farmer prowess. It had foundered probably in the
great cataclysm which engulfed the Hittite empire, although its name
appears inscribed once more among those of the vassals of Egypt on the
triumphal lists of Ramses III. Its chief tribes had probably migrated
towards the regions which were afterwards described by the Greek
geographers as the home of the Matieni on the Halys and in the
neighbourhood of Lake Urmiah. Aramaean kingdoms, of which the greatest was
that of Bit-Adîni,* had succeeded them, and bordered the Euphrates on each
side as far as the Chalus and Balikh respectively; the ancient Harran
belonged also to them, and their frontier stretched as far as Hamath, and
to that of the Patinu on the Orontes.
It was, as we have seen, a complete breaking up of the old nationalities,
and we have evidence also of a similar disintegration in the countries to
the north of the Taurus, in the direction of the Black Sea. Of the mighty
Khâti with whom Thûtmosis III. had come into contact, there was no
apparent trace: either the tribes of which they were composed had migrated
towards the south, or those who had never left their native mountains had
entered into new combinations and lost even the remembrance of their name.
The Milidu, Tabal (Tubal), and Mushku (Meshech) stretched behind each
other from east to west on the confines of the Tokhma-Su, and still
further away other cities of less importance contended for the possession
of the Upper Saros and the middle region of the Halys. These peoples, at
once poor and warlike, had been attracted, like the Hittites of some
centuries previous, by the riches accumulated in the strongholds of Syria.
Eevolutions must have been frequent in these regions, but our knowledge of
them is more a matter of conjecture than of actual evidence. Towards the
year 1170 B.C. the Mushku swooped down on Kummukh, and made themselves its
masters; then pursuing their good fortune, they took from the Assyrians
the two provinces, Alzi and Purukuzzi, which lay not far from the sources
of the Tigris and the Balikh.*
A little later the Kashku, together with some Aramaeans, broke into
Shubarti, then subject to Assyria, and took possession of a part of it.
The majority of these invasions had, however, no permanent result: they
never issued in the establishment of an empire like that of the Khâti,
capable by its homogeneity of offering a serious resistance to the march
of a conqueror from the south. To sum up the condition of affairs: if a
redistribution of races had brought about a change in Northern Syria,
their want of cohesion was no less marked than in the time of the Egyptian
wars; the first enemy to make an attack upon the frontier of one or other
of these tribes was sure of victory, and, if he persevered in his efforts,
could make himself master of as much territory as he might choose. The
Pharaohs had succeeded in welding together their African possessions, and
their part in the drama of conquest had been played long ago; but the
cities of the Tigris and the Lower Euphrates—Nineveh and
Babylon-were ready to enter the lists as soon as they felt themselves
strong enough to revive their ancient traditions of foreign conquest.
The successors of Agumkakrimê were not more fortunate than he had been in
attempting to raise Babylon once more to the foremost rank; their want of
power, their discord, the insubordination and sedition that existed among
their Cossæan troops, and the almost periodic returns of the Theban
generals to the banks of the Euphrates, sometimes even to those of the
Balikh and the Khabur, all seemed to conspire to aggravate the helpless
state into which Babylon had sunk since the close of the dynasty of
Uruazagga. Elam was pressing upon her eastern, and Assyria on her northern
frontier, and their kings not only harassed her with persistent malignity,
but, by virtue of their alliances by marriage with her sovereigns, took
advantage of every occasion to interfere both in domestic and state
affairs; they would espouse the cause of some pretender during a revolt,
they would assume the guardianship of such of their relatives as were left
widows or minors, and, when the occasion presented itself, they took
possession of the throne of Bel, or bestowed it on one of their creatures.
Assyria particularly seemed to regard Babylon with a deadly hatred. The
capitals of the two countries were not more than some one hundred and
eighty-five miles apart, the intervening district being a flat and
monotonous alluvial plain, unbroken by any feature which could serve as a
natural frontier. The line of demarcation usually followed one of the many
canals in the narrow strip of land between the Euphrates and the Tigris;
it then crossed the latter, and was formed by one of the rivers draining
the Iranian table-land,—either the Upper Zab, the Radanu, the
Turnat, or some of their ramifications in the spurs of the mountain
ranges. Each of the two states strove by every means in its power to
stretch its boundary to the farthest limits, and to keep it there at all
hazards. This narrow area was the scene of continual war, either between
the armies of the two states or those of partisans, suspended from time to
time by an elaborate treaty which was supposed to settle all difficulties,
but, as a matter of fact, satisfied no one, and left both parties
discontented with their lot and jealous of each other. The concessions
made were never of sufficient importance to enable the conqueror to crush
his rival and regain for himself the ancient domain of Khammurabi; his
losses, on the other hand, were often considerable enough to paralyse his
forces, and prevent him from extending his border in any other direction.
When the Egyptians seized on Naharaim, Assyria and Babylon each adopted at
the outset a different attitude towards the conquerors. Assyria, which
never laid any permanent claims to the seaboard provinces of the
Mediterranean, was not disposed to resent their occupation by Egypt, and
desired only to make sure of their support or their neutrality. The
sovereign then ruling Assyria, but of whose name we have no record,
hastened to congratulate Thûtmosis III. on his victory at Megiddo, and
sent him presents of precious vases, slaves, lapis-lazuli, chariots and
horses, all of which the Egyptian conqueror regarded as so much tribute.
Babylon, on the other hand, did not take action so promptly as Assyria; it
was only towards the latter years of Thûtmosis that its king, Karaîndash,
being hard pressed by the Assyrian Assurbelnishishu, at length decided to
make a treaty with the intruder.*
The remoteness of Egypt from the Babylonian frontier no doubt relieved
Karaîndash from any apprehension of an actual invasion by the Pharaohs;
but there was the possibility of their subsidising some nearer enemy, and
also of forbidding Babylonish caravans to enter Egyptian provinces, and
thus crippling Chaldæan commerce. Friendly relations, when once
established, soon necessitated a constant interchange of embassies and
letters between the Nile and the Euphrates. As a matter of fact, the
Babylonian king could never reconcile himself to the idea that Syria had
passed out of his hands. While pretending to warn the Pharaoh of Syrian
plots against him,* the Babylonians were employing at the same time secret
agents, to go from city to city and stir up discontent at Egyptian rule,
praising the while the great Cosssean king and his armies, and inciting to
revolt by promises of help never meant to be fulfilled. Assyria, whose
very existence would have been endangered by the re-establishment of a
Babylonian empire, never missed an opportunity of denouncing these
intrigues at head-quarters: they warned the royal messengers and governors
of them, and were constantly contrasting the frankness and honesty of
their own dealings with the duplicity of their rival.
This state of affairs lasted for more than half a century, during which
time both courts strove to ingratiate themselves in the favour of the
Pharaoh, each intriguing for the exclusion of the other, by exchanging
presents with him, by congratulations on his accession, by imploring gifts
of wrought or unwrought gold, and by offering him the most beautiful women
of their family for his harem. The son of Karaîndash, whose name still
remains to be discovered, bestowed one of his daughters on the young
Amenôthes III.: Kallimasin, the sovereign who succeeded him, also sent
successively two princesses to the same Pharaoh. But the underlying
bitterness and hatred would break through the veneer of polite formula and
protestations when the petitioner received, as the result of his advances,
objects of inconsiderable value such as a lord might distribute to his
vassals, or when he was refused a princess of solar blood, or even an
Egyptian bride of some feudal house; at such times, however, an ironical
or haughty epistle from Thebes would recall him to a sense of his own
inferiority.
As a fact, the lot of the Cossæan sovereigns does not appear to have been
a happy one, in spite of the variety and pomposity of the titles which
they continued to assume. They enjoyed but short lives, and we know that
at least three or four of them—Kallimasin, Burnaburiash I., and
Kurigalzu I. ascended the throne in succession during the forty years that
Amenôthes III. ruled over Egypt and Syria.*
Perhaps the rapidity of this succession may have arisen from some internal
revolution or from family disturbances. The Chaldæans of the old stock
reluctantly rendered obedience to these Cosssean kings, and, if we may
judge from the name, one at least of these ephemeral sovereigns,
Kallimasin, appears to have been a Semite, who owed his position among the
Cossoan princes to some fortunate chance. A few rare inscriptions stamped
on bricks, one or two letters or documents of private interest, and some
minor objects from widely distant spots, have enabled us to ascertain the
sites upon which these sovereigns erected buildings; Karaîndash restored
the temple of Nana at Uruk, Burnaburiash and Kurigalzu added to that of
Shamash at Larsam, and Kurigalzu took in hand that of Sin at Uru. We also
possess a record of some of their acts in the fragments of a document,
which a Mnevite scribe of the time of Assurbanipal had compiled, or rather
jumbled together,* from certain Babylonian chronicles dealing with the
wars against Assyria and Elam, with public treaties, marriages, and family
quarrels. We learn from this, for example, that Burnaburiash I. renewed
with Buzurassur the conventions drawn up between Karaîndash and
Assurbelnishishu. These friendly relations were maintained, apparently,
under Kurigalzu I. and Assur-nadin-akhi, the son of Buzurassur;** if
Kurigalzu built or restored the fortress, long called after him
Dur-Kurigalzu,*** at one of the fords of the Narmalka, it was probably as
a precautionary measure rather than because of any immediate danger. The
relations between the two powers became somewhat strained when
Burnaburiash II. and Assuruballît had respectively succeeded to Kurigalzu
and Assur-nadin-akhi; **** this did not, however, lead to hostilities, and
the subsequent betrothal of Karakhardash, son of Burnaburiash II., to
Mubauîtatseruâ, daughter of Assuruballît, tended to restore matters to
their former condition.
The good will between the two countries became still more pronounced when
Kadashmankharbê succeeded his father Karakhardash. The Cossæan soldiery
had taken umbrage at his successor and had revolted, assassinated
Kadashmankharbê, and proclaimed king in his stead a man of obscure origin
named Nazibùgash. Assuruballît, without a moment’s hesitation, took the
side of his new relatives; he crossed the frontier, killed Nazibugash, and
restored the throne to his sister’s child, Kurigalzu II., the younger. The
young king, who was still a minor at his accession, appears to have met
with no serious difficulties; at any rate, none were raised by his
Assyrian cousins, Belnirârî I. and his successor Budîlu.*
Towards the close of his reign, however, revolts broke out, and it was
only by sustained efforts that he was able to restore order in Babylon,
Sippara, and the Country of the Sea. While the king was in the midst of
these difficulties, the Elamites took advantage of his troubles to steal
from him a portion of his territory, and their king, Khurbatila,
challenged him to meet his army near Dur-Dungi. Kurigalzu accepted the
challenge, gained a decisive victory, took his adversary prisoner, and
released him only on receiving as ransom a province beyond the Tigris; he
even entered Susa, and, from among other trophies of past wars, resumed
possession of an agate tablet belonging to Dungi, which the veteran
Kudurnakhunta had stolen from the temple of Nipur nearly a thousand years
previously. This victory was followed by the congratulations of most of
his neighbours, with the exception of Bammân-nirâri II., who had succeeded
Budîlu in Assyria, and probably felt some jealousy or uneasiness at the
news. He attacked the Cossæans, and overthrew them at Sugagi, on the banks
of the Salsallât; their losses were considerable, and Kurigalzu could only
obtain peace by the cession to Assyria of a strip of territory the entire
length of the north-west frontier, from the confines of the Shubari
country, near the sources of the Khabur, to the suburbs of Babylon itself.
Nearly the whole of Mesopotamia thus changed hands at one stroke, but
Babylon had still more serious losses to suffer. Nazimaruttash, who
attempted to wipe out the disaster sustained by his father Kurigalzu,
experienced two crushing defeats, one at Kar-Ishtar and the other near
Akarsallu, and the treaty which he subsequently signed was even more
humiliating for his country than the preceding one. All that part of the
Babylonian domain which lay nearest to Nineveh was ceded to the Assyrians,
from Pilaski on the right bank of the Tigris to the province of Lulumê in
the Zagros mountains. It would appear that the Cossæan tribes who had
remained in their native country, took advantage of these troublous times
to sever all connection with their fellow-countrymen established in the
cities of the plain; for we find them henceforward carrying on a petty
warfare for their own profit, and leading an entirely independent life.
The descendants of Gandish, deprived of territories in the north, repulsed
in the east, and threatened in the south by the nations of the Persian
Gulf, never recovered their former ascendency, and their authority slowly
declined during the century which followed these events. Their downfall
brought about the decadence of the cities over which they had held sway;
and the supremacy which Babylon had exercised for a thousand years over
the countries of the Euphrates passed into the hands of the Assyrian
kings.
Assyria itself was but a poor and insignificant country when compared with
her rival. It occupied, on each side of the middle course of the Tigris,
the territory lying between the 35th and 37th parallels of latitude.*
It was bounded on the east by the hills and mountain ranges running
parallel to the Zagros Chain—Gebel Guar, Gebel Gara,
Zerguizavân-dagh, and Baravân-dagh, with their rounded monotonous
limestone ridges, scored by watercourses and destitute of any kind of
trees. On the north it was hemmed in by the spurs of the Masios, and
bounded on the east by an undefined line running from Mount Masios to the
slopes of Singar, and from these again to the Chaldæan plain; to the south
the frontier followed the configuration of the table-land and the curve of
the low cliffs, which in prehistoric times had marked the limits of the
Persian Gulf; from here the boundary was formed on the left side of the
Tigris by one of its tributaries, either the Lower Zab or the Badanu. The
territory thus enclosed formed a compact and healthy district: it was free
from extremes of temperature arising from height or latitude, and the
relative character and fertility of its soil depended on the absence or
presence of rivers. The eastern part of Assyria was well watered by the
streams and torrents which drained the Iranian plateau and the lower
mountain chains which ran parallel to it. The beds of these rivers are
channelled so deeply in the alluvial soil, that it is necessary to stand
on the very edge of their banks to catch a sight of their silent and rapid
waters; and it is only in the spring or early summer, when they are
swollen by the rains and melting snow, that they spread over the adjacent
country. As soon as the inundation is over, a vegetation of the intensest
green springs up, and in a few days the fields and meadows are covered
with a luxuriant and fragrant carpet of verdure. This brilliant growth is,
however, short-lived, for the heat of the sun dries it up as quickly as it
appears, and even the corn itself is in danger of being burnt up before
reaching maturity. To obviate such a disaster, the Assyrians had
constructed a network of canals and ditches, traces of which are in many
places still visible, while a host of shadufs placed along their
banks facilitated irrigation in the dry seasons. The provinces supplied
with water in this manner enjoyed a fertility which passed into a proverb,
and was well known among the ancients; they yielded crops of cereals which
rivalled those of Babylonia, and included among their produce wheat,
barley, millet, and sesame. But few olive trees were cultivated, and the
dates were of inferior quality; indeed, in the Greek period, these fruits
were only used for fattening pigs and domestic animals. The orchards
contained the pistachio, the apple, the pomegranate, the apricot, the
vine, the almond, and the fig, and, in addition to the essences common to
both Syria and Egypt, the country produced cédrats of a delicious scent
which were supposed to be an antidote to all kinds of poisons. Assyria was
not well wooded, except in the higher valleys, where willows and poplars
bordered the rivers, and sycamores, beeches, limes, and plane trees
abounded, besides several varieties of pines and oaks, including a dwarf
species of the latter, from whose branches manna was obtained.
This is a saccharine substance, which is deposited in small lumps, and is
found in greater abundance during wet years and especially on foggy days.
When fresh, it has an agreeable taste and is pleasant to eat; but as it
will not keep in its natural state, the women prepare it for exportation
by dissolving it in boiling water, and evaporating it to a sweetish paste,
which has more or less purgative, qualities. The aspect of the country
changes after crossing the Tigris westward. The slopes of Mount Masios are
everywhere furrowed with streams, which feed the Khabur and its principal
affluent, the Kharmis;* woods become more frequent, and the valleys green
and shady.
The plains extending southwards, however, contain, like those of the
Euphrates, beds of gypsum in the sub-soil, which render the water running
through them brackish, and prevent the growth of vegetation. The effects
of volcanic action are evident on the surface of these great steppes;
blocks of basalt pierce through the soil, and near the embouchure of the
Kharmis, a cone, composed of a mass of lava, cinders, and scorial, known
as the Tell-Kôkab, rises abruptly to a height of 325 feet. The mountain
chain of Singar, which here reaches its western termination, is composed
of a long ridge of soft white limestone, and seems to have been suddenly
thrown up in one of the last geological upheavals which affected this part
of the country: in some places it resembles a perpendicular wall, while in
others it recedes in natural terraces which present the appearance of a
gigantic flight of steps. The summit is often wooded, and the spurs
covered with vineyards and fields, which flourish vigorously in the
vicinity of streams; when these fail, however, the table-land resumes its
desolate aspect, and stretches in bare and sandy undulations to the
horizon, broken only where it is crossed by the Thartar, the sole river in
this region which is not liable to be dried up, and whose banks may be
traced by the scanty line of vegetation which it nourishes.
In a country thus unequally favoured by nature, the towns are necessarily
distributed in a seemingly arbitrary fashion. Most of them are situated on
the left bank of the Tigris, where the fertile nature of the soil enables
it to support a dense population. They were all flourishing centres of
population, and were in close proximity to each other, at all events
during the centuries of Assyrian hegemony.*
Three of them soon eclipsed their rivals in political and religious
importance; these were Kalakh and Nina on the Tigris, and Arbaîlu, lying
beyond the Upper Zab, in the broken plain which is a continuation
eastwards of the first spurs of the Zagros.* On the right bank, however,
we find merely some dozen cities and towns, scattered about in places
where there was a supply of water sufficient to enable the inhabitants to
cultivate the soil; as, for example, Assur on the banks of the Tigris
itself, Singara near the sources of the Thartar, and Nazibina near those
of the Kharmis, at the foot of the Masios. These cities were not all under
the rule of one sovereign when Thûtmosis III. appeared in Syria, for the
Egyptian monuments mention, besides the kingdom of Assyria, that of
Singara** and Araphka in the upper basin of the Zab.***
Assyria, however, had already asserted her supremacy over this corner of
Asia, and the remaining princes, even if they were not mere vicegerents
depending on her king, were not strong enough in wealth and extent of
territory to hold their own against her, since she was undisputed mistress
of Assur, Arbeles, Kalakh, and Nineveh, the most important cities of the
plain. Assur covered a considerable area, and the rectangular outline
formed by the remains of its walls is still discernible on the surface of
the soil. Within the circuit of the city rose a mound, which the ancient
builders had transformed, by the addition of masses of brickwork, into a
nearly square platform, surmounted by the usual palace, temple, and
ziggurat; it was enclosed within a wall of squared stone, the battlements
of which remain to the present day.* The whole pile was known as the
“Ekharsagkurkurra,” or the “House of the terrestrial mountain,” the
sanctuary in whose decoration all the ancient sovereigns had vied with one
another, including Samsirammân I. and Irishum, who were merely vicegerents
dependent upon Babylon. It was dedicated to Anshar, that duplicate of Anu
who had led the armies of heaven in the struggle with Tiâmat; the name
Anshar, softened into Aushar, and subsequently into Ashshur, was first
applied to the town and then to the whole country.**
The god himself was a deity of light, usually represented under the form
of an armed man, wearing the tiara and having the lower half of his body
concealed by a feathered disk. He was supposed to hover continually over
the world, hurling fiery darts at the enemies of his people, and
protecting his kingly worshippers under the shadow of his wings. Their
wars were his wars, and he was with them in the thick of the attack,
placing himself in the front rank with the soldiery,* so that when he
gained the victory, the bulk of the spoil—precious metals, gleanings
of the battle-field, slaves and productive lands—fell to his share.
The gods of the vanquished enemy, moreover, were, like their princes,
forced to render him homage. In the person of the king he took their
statues prisoners, and shut them up in his sanctuary; sometimes he would
engrave his name upon their figures and send them back to their respective
temples, where the sight of them would remind their worshippers of his own
omnipotence.** The goddess associated with him as his wife had given her
name, Nina, to Nineveh,*** and was, as the companion of the Chaldæan Bel,
styled the divine lady Belit; she was, in fact, a chaste and warlike
Ishtar, who led the armies into battle with a boldness characteristic of
her father.****
These two divinities formed an abstract and solitary pair, around whom
neither story nor myth appears to have gathered, and who never became the
centre of any complex belief. Assur seems to have had no parentage
assigned to him, no statue erected to him, and he was not associated with
the crowd of other divinities; on the contrary, he was called their lord,
their “peerless king,” and, as a proof of his supreme sovereignty over
them, his name was inscribed at the head of their lists, before those of
the triads constituted by the Chaldæan priests—even before those of
Anu, Bel, and Ba. The city of Assur, which had been the first to tender
him allegiance for many years, took precedence of all the rest, in spite
of the drawbacks with which it had to contend. Placed at the very edge of
the Mesopotamian desert, it was exposed to the dry and burning winds which
swept over the plains, so that by the end of the spring the heat rendered
it almost intolerable as a residence. The Tigris, moreover, ran behind it,
thus leaving it exposed to the attacks of the Babylonian armies,
unprotected as it was by any natural fosse or rampart. The nature of the
frontier was such as to afford it no safeguard; indeed, it had, on the
contrary, to protect its frontier. Nineveh, on the other hand, was
entrenched behind the Tigris and the Zab, and was thus secure from any
sudden attack. Northerly and easterly winds prevailed during the summer,
and the coolness of the night rendered the heat during the day more
bearable. It became the custom for the kings and vicegerents to pass the
most trying months of the year at Nineveh, taking up their abode close to
the temple of Nina, the Assyrian Ishtar, but they did not venture to make
it their habitual residence, and consequently Assur remained the official
capital and chief sanctuary of the empire. Here its rulers concentrated
their treasures, their archives, their administrative offices, and the
chief staff of the army; from this town they set out on their expeditions
against the Cossæans of Babylon or the mountaineers of the districts
beyond the Tigris, and it was in this temple that they dedicated to the
god the tenth of the spoil on their return from a successful campaign.*
* The majority of scholars now admit that the town of Nina, mentioned by
Gudea and the vicegerents of Telloh, was a quarter of, or neighbouring
borough of, Lagash, and had nothing in common with Nineveh, in spite of
Hommel’s assumption to the contrary.
The struggle with Chaldæa, indeed, occupied the greater part of their
energies, though it did not absorb all their resources, and often left
them times of respite, of which they availed themselves to extend their
domain to the north and east. We cannot yet tell which of the Assyrian
sovereigns added the nearest provinces of the Upper Tigris to his realm;
but when the names of these districts appear-in history, they are already
in a state of submission and vassalage, and their principal towns are
governed by Assyrian officers in the same manner as those of Singara and
Nisibe. Assuruballît, the conqueror of the Cossæans, had succeeded in
establishing his authority over the turbulent hordes of Shubari which
occupied the neighbourhood of the Masios, between the Khabur and the
Balîkh, and extended perhaps as far as the Euphrates; at any rate, he was
considered by posterity as the actual founder of the Assyrian empire in
these districts.* Belnirâri had directed his efforts in another direction,
and had conquered the petty kingdoms established on the slopes of the
Iranian table-land, around the sources of the two Zabs, and those of the
Badanu and the Turnât.**
Like Susiana, this part of the country was divided up into parallel
valleys, separated from each other by broken ridges of limestone, and
watered by the tributaries of the Tigris or their affluents.
It was thickly strewn with walled towns and villages; the latter, perched
upon the precipitous mountain summits, and surrounded by deep ravines,
owed their security solely to their position, and, indeed, needed no
fortification. The country abounded in woods and pastures, interspersed
with cornlands; access to it was gained by one or two passes on the
eastern side, which thus permitted caravans or armies to reach the
districts lying between the Erythræan and Caspian Seas. The tribes who
inhabited it had been brought early under Chaldæan civilization, and had
adopted the cuneiform script; such of their monuments as are still extant
resemble the bas-reliefs and inscriptions of Assyria.* It is not always
easy to determine the precise locality occupied by these various peoples;
the Guti were situated near the upper courses of the Turnât and the
Badanu, in the vicinity of the Kashshu;** the Lulumê had settled in the
neighbourhood of the Batîr, to the north of the defiles of Zohab;*** the
Namar separated the Lulumê from Elam, and were situated half in the plain
and half in the mountain, while the Arapkha occupied, both banks of the
Great Zab.
Budîlu carried his arms against these tribes, and obtained successes over
the Turuki and the Nigimkhi, the princes of the Guti and the Shuti, as
well as over the Akhlamî and the Iauri.*
The chiefs of the Lulumê had long resisted the attacks of their
neighbours, and one of them, Anu-banini, had engraved on the rocks
overhanging the road not far from the village of Seripul, a bas-relief
celebrating his own victories. He figures on it in full armour, wearing a
turban on his head, and treading underfoot a fallen foe, while Ishtar of
Arbeles leads towards him a long file of naked captives, bound ready for
sacrifice. The resistance of the Lulumê was, however, finally overcome by
Rammân-nirâri, the son of Budilû; he strengthened the suzerainty gained by
his predecessor over the Guti, the Cossæans, and the Shubarti, and he
employed the spoil taken from them in beautifying the temple of Assur. He
had occasion to spend some time in the regions of the Upper Tigris,
warring against the Shubari, and a fine bronze sabre belonging to him has
been found near Diarbekîr, among the ruins of the ancient Amidi, where, no
doubt, he had left it as an offering in one of the temples. He was
succeeded by Shalmânuâsharîd,* better known to us as Shalmaneser I., one
of the most powerful sovereigns of this heroic age of Assyrian history.
His reign seems to have been one continuous war against the various races
then in a state of ferment on the frontiers of his kingdom. He appears in
the main to have met with success, and in a few years had doubled the
extent of his dominions.* His most formidable attacks were directed
against the Aramaeans** of Mount Masios, whose numerous tribes had
advanced on one side till they had crossed the Tigris, while on the other
they had pushed beyond the river Balîkh, and had probably reached the
Euphrates.***
He captured their towns one after another, razed their fortresses, smote
the agricultural districts with fire and sword, and then turned upon the
various peoples who had espoused their cause—the Kirkhu, the Euri,
the Kharrîn,* and the Muzri, who inhabited the territory between the
basins of the two great rivers;** once, indeed, he even crossed the
Euphrates and ventured within the country of Khanigalbat, a feat which his
ancestors had never even attempted.***
He was recalled by a revolt which had broken out in the scattered cities
of the district of Dur-Kurigalzu; he crushed the rising in spite of the
help which Kadash-manburiash, King of Babylon, had given to the rebels,
and was soon successful in subduing the princes of Lulumê. These were not
the raids of a day’s duration, undertaken, without any regard to the
future, merely from love of rapine or adventure. Shalmaneser desired to
bring the regions which he annexed permanently under the authority of
Assyria, and to this end he established military colonies in suitable
places, most of which were kept up long after his death.*
He seems to have directed the internal affairs of his kingdom with the
same firmness and energy which he displayed in his military expeditions.
It was no light matter for the sovereign to decide on a change in the seat
of government; he ran the risk of offending, not merely his subjects, but
the god who presided over the destinies of the State, and neither his
throne nor his life would have been safe had he failed in his attempt.
Shalmaneser, however, did not hesitate to make the change, once he was
fully convinced of the drawbacks presented by Assur as a capital. True, he
beautified the city, restored its temples, and permitted it to retain all
its privileges and titles; but having done so, he migrated with his court
to the town of Kalakh, where his descendants continued to reside for
several centuries. His son Tukulti-ninip made himself master of Babylon,
and was the first of his race who was able to claim the title of King of
Sumir and Akkad. The Cossæans were still suffering from their defeat at
the hands of Bammân-nirâri. Four of their princes had followed
Nazimaruttash on the throne in rapid succession—Kadashmanturgu,
Kadashmanburiash, who was attacked by Shalmaneser, a certain Isammeti
whose name has been mutilated, and lastly, Shagaraktiburiash: Bibeiasdu,
son of this latter, was in power at the moment when Tukulti-ninip ascended
the throne. War broke out between the two monarchs, but dragged on without
any marked advantage on one side or the other, till at length the conflict
was temporarily suspended by a treaty similar to others which had been
signed in the course of the previous two or three centuries.*
The peace thus concluded might have lasted longer but for an unforeseen
catastrophe which placed Babylon almost at the mercy of her rival. The
Blamites had never abandoned their efforts to press in every conceivable
way their claim to the Sebbeneh-su, the supremacy, which, prior to
Kbammurabi, had been exercised by their ancestors over the whole of
Mesopotamia; they swooped down on Karduniash with an impetuosity like that
of the Assyrians, and probably with the same alternations of success and
defeat. Their king, Kidinkhutrutash, unexpectedly attacked Belnadînshumu,
son of Bibeiashu, appeared suddenly under the walls of Nipur and forced
the defences of Durîlu and Étimgarka-lamma: Belnadînshumu disappeared in
the struggle after a reign of eighteen months. Tukulti-ninip left
Belna-dînshumu’s successor, Kadashmankharbe II., no time to recover from
this disaster; he attacked him in turn, carried Babylon by main force, and
put a number of the inhabitants to the sword. He looted the palace and the
temples, dragged the statue of Merodach from its sanctuary and carried it
off into Assyria, together with the badges of supreme power; then, after
appointing governors of his own in the various towns, he returned to
Kalakh, laden with booty; he led captive with him several members of the
royal family—among others, Bammânshumusur, the lawful successor of
Bibeiashu.
This first conquest of Chaldæa did not, however, produce any lasting
results. The fall of Babylon did not necessarily involve the subjection of
the whole country, and the cities of the south showed a bold front to the
foreign intruder, and remained faithful to Kadashmankharbe; on the death
of the latter, some months after his defeat, they hailed as king a certain
Bammânshumnadîn, who by some means or other had made his escape from
captivity. Bammânshumnadîn proved himself a better man than his
predecessors; when Kidinkhutrutash, never dreaming, apparently, that he
would meet with any serious resistance, came to claim his share of the
spoil, he defeated him near Ishin, drove him out of the districts recently
occupied by the Elamites, and so effectually retrieved his fortunes in
this direction, that he was able to concentrate his whole attention on
what was going on in the north. The effects of his victory soon became
apparent: the nobles of Akkad and Karduniash declined to pay homage to
their Assyrian governors, and, ousting them from the offices to which they
had been appointed, restored Babylon to the independence which it had lost
seven years previously. Tukulti-ninip paid dearly for his incapacity to
retain his conquests: his son Assurnazirpal I. conspired with the
principal officers, deposed him from the throne, and confined him in the
fortified palace of Kar-Tukulti-ninip, which he had built not far from
Kalakh, where he soon after contrived his assassination. About this time
Rammânshumnadîn disappears, and we can only suppose that the disasters of
these last years had practically annihilated the Cossæan dynasty, for
Rammânshu-musur, who was a prisoner in Assyria, was chosen as his
successor. The monuments tell us nothing definite of the troubles which
next befell the two kingdoms: we seem to gather, however, that Assyria
became the scene of civil wars, and that the sons of Tukulti-ninip fought
for the crown among themselves. Tukultiassurbel, who gained the upper hand
at the end of six years, set Raminân-shumusur at liberty, probably with
the view of purchasing the support of the Chaldæans, but he did not
succeed in restoring his country to the position it had held under
Shalmaneser and Tukulti-ninip I. The history of Assyria presents a greater
number of violent contrasts and extreme vicissitudes than that of any
other Eastern people in the earliest times. No sooner had the Assyrians
arrived, thanks to the ceaseless efforts of five or six generations, at
the very summit of their ambition, than some incompetent, or perhaps
merely unfortunate, king appeared on the scene, and lost in a few years
all the ground which had been gained at the cost of such tremendous
exertions: then the subject races would rebel, the neighbouring peoples
would pluck up courage and reconquer the provinces which they had
surrendered, till the dismembered empire gradually shrank back to its
original dimensions. As the fortunes of Babylon rose, those of Nineveh
suffered a corresponding depression: Babylon soon became so powerful that
Eammânshumusur was able to adopt a patronising tone in his relations with
Assur-nirâri I. and Nabodaînâni, the descendants of Tukultiassurbel, who
at one time shared the throne together.*
This period of subjection and humiliation did not last long. Belkudurusur,
who appears on the throne not long after Assurnirâri and his partner,
resumed military operations against the Cossæans, but cautiously at first;
and though he fell in the decisive engagement, yet Bammân-shumusur
perished with him, and the two states were thus simultaneously left
rulerless. Milishikhu succeeded Bammânshumusur, and Ninipahalesharra
filled the place of Belkudurusur; the disastrous invasion of Assyria by
the Chaldæans, and their subsequent retreat, at length led to an
armistice, which, while it afforded evidence of the indisputable
superiority of Milishikhu, proved no less plainly the independence of his
rival. Mero-dachabaliddina I. replaced Milishikhu, Zamâniashu-middin
followed Merodachabaliddina: Assurdân I., son of Ninipahalesharra, broke
the treaty, captured the towns of Zabân, Irrîa, and Akarsallu, and
succeeded in retaining them. The advantage thus gained was but a slight
one, for these provinces lying between the two Zabs had long been subject
to Assyria, and had been wrested from her since the days of Tukulti-ninip:
however, it broke the run of ill luck which seemed to have pursued her so
relentlessly, and opened the way for more important victories. This was
the last Cossæan war; at any rate, the last of which we find any mention
in history: Bel-nadînshumu II. reigned three years after Zamâmashu-middin,
but when he died there was no man of his family whom the priests could
invite to lay hold of the hand of Merodach, and his dynasty ended with
him. It included thirty-six kings, and had lasted five hundred and
seventy-six years and six months.*
* The following is a list of some of the kings of this dynasty according
to the canon discovered by Pinches.
It had enjoyed its moments of triumph, and at one time had almost seemed
destined to conquer the whole of Asia; but it appears to have invariably
failed just as it was on the point of reaching the goal, and it became
completely exhausted by its victories at the end of every two or three
generations. It had triumphed over Elam, and yet Elam remained a constant
peril on its right. It had triumphed over Assyria, yet Assyria, after
driving it back to the regions of the Upper Tigris, threatened to bar the
road to the Mediterranean by means of its Masian colonies: were they once
to succeed in this attempt, what hope would there be left to those who
ruled in Babylon of ever after re-establishing the traditional empire of
the ancient Sargon and Khammurabi? The new dynasty sprang from a town in
Pashê, the geographical position of which is not known. It was of
Babylonian origin, and its members placed, at the be ginning of their
protocols, formula which were intended to indicate, in the clearest
possible manner, the source from which they sprang: they declared
themselves to be scions of Babylon, its vicegerents, and supreme masters.
The names of the first two we do not know: the third, Nebuchadrezzar,
shows himself to have been one of the most remarkable men of all those who
flourished during this troubled era. At no time, perhaps, had Chaldæa been
in a more abject state, or assailed by more active foes. The Elamite had
just succeeded in wresting from her Namar, the region from whence the bulk
of her chariot-horses were obtained, and this success had laid the
provinces on the left bank of the Tigris open to their attacks. They had
even crossed the river, pillaged Babylon, and carried away the statue of
Bel and that of a goddess named Eria, the patroness of Khussi: “Merodach,
sore angered, held himself aloof from the country of Akkad;” the kings
could no longer “take his hands” on their coming to the throne, and were
obliged to reign without proper investiture in consequence of their
failure to fulfil the rite required by religious laws.*
Nebuchadrezzar arose “in Babylon,—roaring like a lion, even as
Bammân roareth,—and his chosen nobles, roared like lions with him.—To
Merodach, lord of Babylon, rose his prayer:—‘How long, for me, shall
there be sighing and groaning?—How long, for my land, weeping and
mourning?—How long, for my countries, cries of grief and tears? Till
what time, O lord of Babylon, wilt thou remain in hostile regions?—Let
thy heart be softened, and make Babylon joyful,—and let thy face be
turned toward Eshaggil which thou lovest!’” Merodach gave ear to the
plaint of his servant: he answered him graciously and promised his aid.
Namar, united as it had been with Chaldæa for centuries, did not readily
become accustomed to its new masters. The greater part of the land
belonged to a Semitic and Cossæan feudality, the heads of which, while
admitting their suzerain’s right to exact military service from them,
refused to acknowledge any further duty towards him. The kings of Susa
declined to recognise their privileges: they subjected them to a poll-tax,
levied the usual imposts on their estates, and forced them to maintain at
their own expense the troops quartered on them for the purpose of
guaranteeing their obedience.*
Several of the nobles abandoned everything rather than submit to such
tyranny, and took refuge with Nebuchadrezzar: others entered into secret
negotiations with him, and promised to support him if he came to their
help with an armed force. He took them at their word, and invaded Namar
without warning in the month of Tamuz, while the summer was at its height,
at a season in which the Elamites never even dreamt he would take the
field. The heat was intense, water was not to be got, and the army
suffered terribly from thirst during its forced march of over a hundred
miles across a parched-up country. One of the malcontents, Eittimerodach,
lord of Bitkarziabku, joined Nebuchadrezzar with all the men he could
assemble, and together they penetrated as far as Ulaî. The King of Elam,
taken by surprise, made no attempt to check their progress, but collected
his vassals and awaited their attack on the banks of the river in front of
Susa. Once “the fire of the combat had been lighted between the opposing
forces, the face of the sun grew dark, the tempest broke forth, the
whirlwind raged, and in this whirlwind of the struggle none of the
characters could distinguish the face of his neighbour.” Nebuchadrezzar,
cut off from his own men, was about to surrender or be killed, when
Eittimerodach flew to his rescue and brought him off safely. In the end
the Chaldæans gained the upper hand.*
The Elamites renounced their claims to the possession of Namar, and
restored the statues of the gods: Nebuchadrezzar “at once laid hold of the
hands of Bel,” and thus legalised his accession to the throne. Other
expeditions against the peoples of Lulurne and against the Cossæans
restored his supremacy in the regions of the north-east, and a campaign
along the banks of the Euphrates opened out the road to Syria. He rewarded
generously those who had accompanied him on his raid against Elam. After
issuing regulations intended to maintain the purity of the breed of horses
for which Namar was celebrated, he reinstated in their possessions Shamuâ
and his son Shamaî, the descendants of one of the priestly families of the
province, granting them in addition certain domains near Upi, at the mouth
of the Turnât. He confirmed Rittimerodach in possession of all his
property, and reinvested him with all the privileges of which the King of
Elam had deprived him. From that time forward the domain of Bitkarziabku
was free of the tithe on corn, oxen, and sheep; it was no longer liable to
provide horses and mares for the exchequer, or to afford free passage to
troops in time of peace; the royal jurisdiction ceased on the boundary of
the fief, the seignorial jurisdiction alone extended over the inhabitants
and their property. Chaldæan prefects ruled in Namar, at Khalman, and at
the foot of the Zagros, and Nebuchadrezzar no longer found any to oppose
him save the King of Assyria.
The long reign of Assurdân in Assyria does not seem to have been
distinguished by any event of importance either good or bad: it is true he
won several towns on the south-east from the Babylonians, but then he lost
several others on the north-west to the Mushku,* and the loss on the one
side fully balanced the advantage gained on the other.
His son Mutakkilnusku lived in Assur at peace,* but his grandson,
Assurîshishî, was a mighty king, conqueror of a score of countries, and
the terror of all rebels: he scattered the hordes of the Akhlamê and broke
up their forces; then Ninip, the champion of the gods, permitted him to
crush the Lulumê and the G-uti in their valleys and on their mountains
covered with forests. He made his way up to the frontiers of Elam,** and
his encroachments on territories claimed by Babylon stirred up the anger
of the Chaldæans against him; Nebuchadrezzar made ready to dispute their
ownership with him.
The earlier engagements went against the Assyrians; they were driven back
in disorder, but the victor lost time before one of their strongholds,
and, winter coming on before he could take it, he burnt his engines of
war, set fire to his camp, and returned home. Next year, a rapid march
carried him right under the walls of Assur; then Assurîshishî came to the
rescue, totally routed his opponent, captured forty of his chariots, and
drove him flying across the frontier. The war died out of itself, its end
being marked by no treaty: each side kept its traditional position and
supremacy over the tribes inhabiting the basins of the Turnât and Eadanu.
The same names reappear in line after line of these mutilated Annals, and
the same definite enumerations of rebellious tribes who have been humbled
or punished. These kings of the plain, both Ninevite and Babylonian, were
continually raiding the country up and down for centuries without ever
arriving at any decisive result, and a detailed account of their various
campaigns would be as tedious reading as that of the ceaseless struggle
between the Latins and Sabines which fills the opening pages of Roman
history. Posterity soon grew weary of them, and, misled by the splendid
position which Assyria attained when at the zenith of its glory, set
itself to fabricate splendid antecedents for the majestic empire
established by the latter dynasties. The legend ran that, at the dawn of
time, a chief named Ninos had reduced to subjection one after the other—Babylonia,
Media, Armenia, and all the provinces between the Indies and the
Mediterranean. He built a capital for himself on the banks of the Tigris,
in the form of a parallelogram, measuring a hundred and fifty stadia in
length, ninety stadia in width; altogether, the walls were four hundred
and eighty stadia in circumference. In addition to the Assyrians who
formed the bulk of the population, he attracted many foreigners to
Nineveh, so that in a few years it became the most flourishing town in the
whole world. An inroad of the tribes of the Oxus interrupted his labours;
Ninos repulsed the invasion, and, driving the barbarians back into
Bactria, laid siege to it; here, in the tent of one of his captains, he
came upon Semiramis, a woman whose past was shrouded in mystery. She was
said to be the daughter of an ordinary mortal by a goddess, the Ascalonian
Derketô. Exposed immediately after her birth, she was found and adopted by
a shepherd named Simas, and later on her beauty aroused the passion of
Oannes, governor of Syria. Ninos, amazed at the courage displayed by her
on more than one occasion, carried her off, made her his favourite wife,
and finally met his death at her hands. No sooner did she become queen,
than she founded Babylon on a far more extensive scale than that of
Nineveh. Its walls were three hundred and sixty stadia in length, with two
hundred and fifty lofty towers, placed here and there on its circuit, the
roadway round the top of the ramparts being wide enough for six chariots
to drive abreast. She made a kind of harbour in the Euphrates, threw a
bridge across it, and built quays one hundred and sixty stadia in length
along its course; in the midst of the town she raised a temple to Bel.
This great work was scarcely finished when disturbances broke out in
Media; these she promptly repressed, and set out on a tour of inspection
through the whole of her provinces, with a view to preventing the
recurrence of similar outbreaks by her presence. Wherever she went she
left records of her passage behind her, cutting her way through mountains,
quarrying a pathway through the solid rock, making broad highways for
herself, bringing rebellious tribes beneath her yoke, and raising tumuli
to mark the tombs of such of her satraps as fell beneath the blows of the
enemy. She built Ecbatana in Media, Semiramocarta on Lake Van in Armenia,
and Tarsus in Cilicia; then, having reached the confines of Syria, she
crossed the isthmus, and conquered Egypt and Ethiopia. The far-famed
wealth of India recalled her from the banks of the Nile to those of the
Euphrates, en route for the remote east, but at this point her good
fortune forsook her: she was defeated by King Stratobates, and returned to
her own dominions, never again to leave them. She had set up triumphal
stelae on the boundaries of the habitable globe, in the very midst of
Scythia, not far from the Iaxartes, where, centuries afterwards, Alexander
of Macedon read the panegyric of herself which she had caused to be
engraved there. “Nature,” she writes, “gave me the body of a woman, but my
deeds have put me on a level with the greatest of men. I ruled over the
dominion of Ninos, which extends eastwards to the river Hinaman,
southwards to the countries of Incense and Myrrh, and northwards as far as
the Sacaa and Sogdiani. Before my time no Assyrian had ever set eyes on
the sea: I have seen four oceans to which no mariner has ever sailed, so
far remote are they. I have made rivers to flow where I would have them,
in the places where they were needed; thus did I render fertile the barren
soil by watering it with my rivers. I raised up impregnable fortresses,
and cut roadways through the solid rock with the pick. I opened a way for
the wheels of my chariots in places to which even the feet of wild beasts
had never penetrated. And, amidst all these labours, I yet found time for
my pleasures and for the society of my friends.” On discovering that her
son Ninyas was plotting her assassination, she at once abdicated in his
favour, in order to save him from committing a crime, and then transformed
herself into a dove; this last incident betrays the goddess to us. Ninos
and Semiramis are purely mythical, and their mighty deeds, like those
ascribed to Ishtar and Gilgames, must be placed in the same category as
those other fables with which the Babylonian legends strive to fill up the
blank of the prehistoric period.*
The real facts were, as we know, far less brilliant and less extravagant
than those supplied by popular imagination. It would be a mistake,
however, to neglect or despise them on account of their tedious monotony
and the insignificance of the characters who appear on the stage. It was
by dint of fighting her neighbours again and again, without a single day’s
respite, that Rome succeeded in forging the weapons with which she was to
conquer the world; and any one who, repelled by their tedious sameness,
neglected to follow the history of her early struggles, would find great
difficulty in understanding how it came about that a city which had taken
centuries to subjugate her immediate neighbours should afterwards overcome
all the states on the Mediterranean seaboard with such magnificent ease.
In much the same way the ceaseless struggles of Assyria with the
Chaldaeans, and with the mountain tribes of the Zagros Chain, were
unconsciously preparing her for those lightning-like campaigns in which
she afterwards overthrew all the civilized nations of the Bast one after
another. It was only at the cost of unparalleled exertions that she
succeeded in solidly welding together the various provinces within her
borders, and in kneading (so to speak) the many and diverse elements of
her vast population into one compact mass, containing in itself all that
was needful for its support, and able to bear the strain of war for
several years at time without giving way, and rich enough in men and
horses to provide the material for an effective army without excessive
impoverishment of her trade or agriculture.
Drawn by Boudier, from a painted bas-relief given in Layard.
The race came of an old Semitic strain, somewhat crude as yet, and almost
entirely free from that repeated admixture of foreign elements which had
marred the purity of the Babylonian stock. The monuments show us a type
similar in many respects to that which we find to-day on the slopes of
Singar, or in the valleys to the east of Mossul.
The figures on the monuments are tall and straight, broad-shouldered and
wide in the hips, the arms well developed, the legs robust, with good
substantial feet. The swell of the muscles on the naked limbs is perhaps
exaggerated, but this very exaggeration of the modelling suggests the
vigour of the model; it is a heavier, more rustic type than the Egyptian,
promising greater strength and power of resistance, and in so far an
indisputable superiority in the great game of war. The head is somewhat
small, the forehead low and flat, the eyebrows heavy, the eye of a bold
almond shape, with heavy lids, the nose aquiline, and full at the tip,
with wide nostrils terminating in a hard, well-defined curve; the lips are
thick and full, the chin bony, while the face is framed by the coarse dark
wavy hair and beard, which fell in curly masses over the nape of the neck
and the breast. The expression of the face is rarely of an amiable and
smiling type, such as we find in the statues of the Theban period or in
those of the Memphite empire, nor, as a matter of fact, did the Assyrian
pride himself on the gentleness of his manners: he did not overflow with
love for his fellow-man, as the Egyptian made a pretence of doing; on the
contrary, he was stiff-necked and proud, without pity for others or for
himself, hot-tempered and quarrelsome like his cousins of Chaldæa, but
less turbulent and more capable of strict discipline. It mattered not
whether he had come into the world in one of the wretched cabins of a
fellah village, or in the palace of one of the great nobles; he was a born
soldier, and his whole education tended to develop in him the first
qualities of the soldier—temperance, patience, energy, and
unquestioning obedience: he was enrolled in an army which was always on a
war footing, commanded by the god Assur, and under Assur, by the king, the
vicegerent and representative of the god. His life was shut in by the same
network of legal restrictions which confined that of the Babylonians, and
all its more important events had to be recorded on tablets of clay; the
wording of contracts, the formalities of marriage or adoption, the status
of bond and free, the rites of the dead and funeral ceremonies, had either
remained identical with those in use during the earliest years of the
cities of the Lower Euphrates, or differed from them only in their less
important details. The royal and municipal governments levied the same
taxes, used the same procedure, employed the same magistrates, and the
grades of their hierarchy were the same, with one exception. After the
king, the highest office was filled by a soldier, the tartan who
saw to the recruiting of the troops, and led them in time of war, or took
command of the staff-corps whenever the sovereign himself deigned to
appear on the scene of action.*
The more influential of these functionaries bore, in addition to their
other titles, one of a special nature, which, for the space of one year,
made its holder the most conspicuous man in the country; they became limmu,
and throughout their term of office their names appeared on all official
documents. The Chaldæans distinguished the various years of each reign by
a reference to some event which had taken place in each; the Assyrians
named them after the limmu.* The king was the ex-officio limmu
for the year following that of his accession, then after him the tartan,
then the ministers and governors of provinces and cities in an order which
varied little from reign to reign. The names of the limmu, entered
in registers and tabulated—just as, later on, were those of the
Greek archons and Roman consuls—furnished the annalists with a rigid
chronological system, under which the facts of history might be arranged
with certainty.**
The king still retained the sacerdotal attributes with which Cossæan
monarchs had been invested from the earliest times, but contact with the
Egyptians had modified the popular conception of his personality. His
subjects were no longer satisfied to regard him merely as a man superior
to his fellow-men; they had come to discover something of the divine
nature in him, and sometimes identified him—not with Assur, the
master of all things, who occupied a position too high above the pale of
ordinary humanity—but with one of the demi-gods of the second rank,
Shamash, the Sun, the deity whom the Pharaohs pretended to represent in
flesh and blood here below. His courtiers, therefore, went as far as to
call him “Sun” when they addressed him, and he himself adopted this title
in his inscriptions.*
Formerly he had only attained this apotheosis after death, later on he was
permitted to aspire to it during his lifetime. The Chaldæans adopted the
same attitude, and in both countries the royal authority shone with the
borrowed lustre of divine omnipotence. With these exceptions life at court
remained very much the same as it had been; at Nineveh, as at Babylon, we
find harems filled with foreign princesses, who had either been carried
off as hostages from the country of a defeated enemy, or amicably obtained
from their parents. In time of war, the command of the troops and the
dangers of the battle-field; in time of peace, a host of religious
ceremonies and judicial or administrative duties, left but little leisure
to the sovereign who desired to perform conscientiously all that was
required of him. His chief amusement lay in the hunting of wild beasts:
the majority of the princes who reigned over Assyria had a better right
than even Amenôthes III. himself to boast of the hundreds of lions which
they had slain. They set out on these hunting expeditions with quite a
small army of charioteers and infantry, and were often away several days
at a time, provided urgent business did not require their presence in the
palace. They started their quarry with the help of large dogs, and
followed it over hill and dale till they got within bowshot: if it was but
slightly wounded and turned on them, they gave it the finishing stroke
with their lances without dismounting.
Occasionally, however, they were obliged to follow their prey into places
where horses could not easily penetrate; then a hand-to-hand conflict was
inevitable. The lion would rise on its hind quarters and endeavour to lay
its pursuer low with a stroke of its mighty paw, but only to fall pierced
to the heart by his lance or sword.
This kind of encounter demanded great presence of mind and steadiness of
hand; the Assyrians were, therefore, trained to it from their youth up,
and no hunter was permitted to engage in these terrible encounters without
long preliminary practice. Seeing the lion as they did so frequently, and
at such close quarters, they came to know it quite as well as the
Egyptians, and their sculptors reproduce it with a realism and technical
skill which have been rarely equalled in modern times. But while the
Theban artist generally represents it in an attitude of repose, the
Assyrians prefer to show it in violent action in all the various attitudes
which it assumes during a struggle, either crouching as it prepares to
spring, or fully extended in the act of leaping; sometimes it rears into
an upright position, with arched back, gaping jaws, and claws protruded,
ready to bite or strike its foe; at others it writhes under a
spear-thrust, or rolls over and over in its dying agonies. In one
instance, an arrow has pierced the skull of a male lion, crashing through
the frontal bone a little above the left eyebrow, and protrudes obliquely
to the right between his teeth: under the shock of the blow he has risen
on his hind legs, with contorted spine, and beats the air with his fore
paws, his head thrown back as though to free himself of the fatal shaft.
Not far from him the lioness lies stretched out upon its back in the
rigidity of death.
The “rimu,” or urus, was, perhaps, even a more formidable animal to
encounter than any of the felido, owing to the irresistible fury of
his attack. No one would dare, except in a case of dire necessity, to meet
him on foot. The loose flowing robes which the king and the nobles never
put aside—not even in such perilous pastimes as these—were ill
fitted for the quick movements required to avoid the attack of such an
animal, and those who were unlucky enough to quit their chariot ran a
terrible risk of being gored or trodden underfoot in the encounter. It was
the custom, therefore, to attack the beast by arrows, and to keep it at a
distance. If the animal were able to come up with its pursuer, the latter
endeavoured to seize it by the horn at the moment when it lowered its
head, and to drive his dagger into its neck. If the blow were adroitly
given it severed the spinal cord, and the beast fell in a heap as if
struck by lightning. A victory over such animals was an occasion for
rejoicing, and solemn thanks were offered to Assur and Ishtar, the patrons
of the chase, at the usual evening sacrifice.
The slain beasts, whether lion or urus, were arranged in a row before the
altar, while the king, accompanied by his flabella, and umbrella-bearers,
stood alongside them, holding his bow in his left hand. While the singers
intoned the hymn of thanksgiving to the accompaniment of the harp, the
monarch took the bowl of sacred wine, touched his lips with it, and then
poured a portion of the contents on the heads of the victims. A detailed
account of each hunting exploit was preserved for posterity either in
inscriptions or on bas-reliefs.*
The chase was in those days of great service to the rural population; the
kings also considered it to be one of the duties attached to their office,
and on a level with their obligation to make war on neighbouring nations
devoted by the will of Assur to defeat and destruction.
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a photograph by Hommel.
The army charged to carry out the will of the god had not yet acquired the
homogeneity and efficiency which it afterwards attained, yet it had been
for some time one of the most formidable in the world, and even the
Egyptians themselves, in spite of their long experience in military
matters, could not put into the field such a proud array of effective
troops. We do not know how this army was recruited, but the bulk of it was
made up of native levies, to which foreign auxiliaries were added in
numbers varying with the times.* A permanent nucleus of troops was always
in garrison in the capital under the “tartan,” or placed in the principal
towns at the disposal of the governors.**
The contingents which came to be enrolled at these centres on the first
rumour of war may have been taken from among the feudal militia, as was
the custom in the Nile valley, or the whole population may have had to
render personal military service, each receiving while with the colours a
certain daily pay. The nobles and feudal lords were accustomed to call
their own people together, and either placed themselves at their head or
commissioned an officer to act in their behalf.*
These recruits were subjected to the training necessary for their calling
by exercises similar to those of the Egyptians, but of a rougher sort and
better adapted to the cumbrous character of their equipment. The
blacksmith’s art had made such progress among the Assyrians since the
times of Thûtmosis III. and Ramses IL, that both the character and the
materials of the armour were entirely changed.
While the Egyptian of old entered into the contest almost naked, and
without other defence than a padded cap, a light shield, and a leather
apron, the Assyrian of the new age set out for war almost cased in metal.
The pikemen and archers of whom the infantry of the line was composed wore
a copper or iron helmet, conical in form, and having cheek-pieces covering
the ears; they were clad in a sort of leathern shirt covered with plates
or imbricated scales of metal, which protected the body and the upper part
of the arm; a quilted and padded loin-cloth came over the haunches, while
close-fitting trousers, and buskins laced up in the front, completed their
attire. The pikemen were armed with a lance six feet long, a cutlass or
short sword passed through the girdle, and an enormous shield, sometimes
round and convex, sometimes arched at the top and square at the bottom.
The bowmen did not encumber themselves with a buckler, but carried, in
addition to the bow and quiver, a poignard or mace. The light infantry
consisted of pikemen and archers—each of whom wore a crested helmet
and a round shield of wicker-work—of slingers and club-bearers, as
well as of men armed with the two-bladed battle-axe. The chariots were
heavier and larger than those of the Egyptians. They had high, strongly
made wheels with eight spokes, and the body of the vehicle rested directly
on the axle; the panels were of solid wood, sometimes covered with
embossed or carved metal, but frequently painted; they were further
decorated sometimes with gold, silver, or ivory mountings, and with
precious stones. The pole, which was long and heavy, ended in a boss of
carved wood or incised metal, representing a flower, a rosette, the muzzle
of a lion, or a horse’s head. It was attached to the axle under the floor
of the vehicle, and as it had to bear a great strain, it was not only
fixed to this point by leather thongs such as were employed in Egypt, but
also bound to the front of the chariot by a crossbar shaped like a
spindle, and covered with embroidered stuff—an arrangement which
prevented its becoming detached when driving at full speed. A pair of
horses were harnessed to it, and a third was attached to them on the right
side for the use of a supplementary warrior, who could take the place of
his comrade in case of accident, or if he were wounded. The trappings were
very simple; but sometimes there was added to these a thickly padded
caparison, of which the various parts were fitted to the horse by tags so
as to cover the upper part of his head, his neck, back, and breast. The
usual complement of charioteers was two to each vehicle, as in Egypt, but
sometimes, as among the Khâti, there were three—one on the left to
direct the horses, a warrior, and an attendant who protected the other two
with his shield; on some occasions a fourth was added as an extra
assistant. The equipment of the charioteers was like that of the infantry,
and consisted of a jacket with imbricated scales of metal, bow and arrows,
and a lance or javelin. A standard which served as a rallying-point for
the chariots in the battle was set up on the front part of each vehicle,
between the driver and the warrior; it bore at the top a disk supported on
the heads of two bulls, or by two complete representations of these
animals, and a standing figure of Assur letting fly his arrows. The
chariotry formed, as in most countries of that time, the picked troops of
the service, in which the princes and great lords were proud to be
enrolled. Upon it depended for the most part the issue of the conflict,
and the position assigned to it was in the van, the king or
commander-in-chief reserving to himself the privilege of conducting the
charge in person. It was already, however, in a state of decadence, both
as regards the number of units composing it and its methods of
manoeuvring; the infantry, on the other hand, had increased in numbers,
and under the guidance of abler generals tended to become the most
trustworthy force in Assyrian campaigns.*
Notwithstanding the weight of his equipment, the Assyrian foot-soldier was
as agile as the Egyptian, but he had to fight usually in a much more
difficult region than that in which the Pharaoh’s troops were accustomed
to manouvre.
The theatre of war was not like Syria, with its fertile and almost
unbroken plains furrowed by streams which offered little obstruction to
troops throughout the year, but a land of marshes, arid and rocky deserts,
mighty rivers, capable, in one of their sudden floods, of arresting
progress for days, and of jeopardising the success of a campaign;* violent
and ice-cold torrents, rugged mountains whose summits rose into “points
like daggers,” and whose passes could be held against a host of invaders
by a handful of resolute men.**
Bands of daring skirmishers, consisting of archers, slingers, and pikemen,
cleared the way for the mass of infantry marching in columns, and for the
chariots, in the midst of which the king and his household took up their
station; the baggage followed, together with the prisoners and their
escorts.*
If they came to a river where there was neither ford nor bridge, they were
not long in effecting a passage.
Each soldier was provided with a skin, which, having inflated it by the
strength of his lungs and closed the aperture, he embraced in his arms and
cast himself into the stream. Partly by floating and partly by swimming, a
whole regiment could soon reach the other side. The chariots could not be
carried over so easily.
If the bed of the river was not very wide, and the current not too
violent, a narrow bridge was constructed, or rather an improvised dyke of
large stones and rude gabions filled with clay, over which was spread a
layer of branches and earth, supplying a sufficiently broad passage for a
single chariot, of which the horses were led across at walking pace.*
But when the distance between the banks was too great, and the stream too
violent to allow of this mode of procedure, boats were requisitioned from
the neighbourhood, on which men and chariots were embarked, while the
horses, attended by grooms, or attached by their bridles to the flotilla,
swam across the river.* If the troops had to pass through a mountainous
district intersected by ravines and covered by forests, and thus
impracticable on ordinary occasions for a large body of men, the
advance-guard were employed in cutting a passage through the trees with
the axe, and, if necessary, in making with the pick pathways or rough-hewn
steps similar to those met with in the Lebanon on the Phoenician coast.**
Drawn by Faucher-Gudin, from a bas-relief on the bronze gates of Balawât.
The troops advanced in narrow columns, sometimes even in single file,
along these improvised roads, always on the alert lest they should be
taken at a disadvantage by an enemy concealed in the thickets. In case of
attack, the foot-soldiers had each to think of himself, and endeavour to
give as many blows as he received; but the charioteers, encumbered by
their vehicles and the horses, found it no easy matter to extricate
themselves from the danger. Once the chariots had entered into the forest
region, the driver descended from his vehicle, and led the horses by the
head, while the warrior and his assistant were not slow to follow his
example, in order to give some relief to the animals by tugging at the
wheels. The king alone did not dismount, more out of respect for his
dignity than from indifference to the strain upon the animals; for, in
spite of careful leading, he had to submit to a rough shaking from the
inequalities of this rugged soil; sometimes he had too much of this, and
it is related of him in his annals that he had crossed the mountains on
foot like an ordinary mortal.*
A halt was made every evening, either at some village, whose inhabitants
were obliged to provide food and lodging, or, in default of this, on some
site which they could fortify by a hastily thrown up rampart of earth. If
they were obliged to remain in any place for a length of time, a regular
encircling wall was constructed, not square or rectangular like those of
the Egyptians, but round or oval.*
It was made of dried brick, and provided with towers like an ancient city;
indeed, many of these entrenched camps survived the occasion of their
formation, and became small fortified towns or castles, whence a permanent
garrison could command the neighbouring country. The interior was divided
into four equal parts by two roads, intersecting each other at right
angles. The royal tents, with their walls of felt or brown linen,
resembled an actual palace, which could be moved from place to place; they
were surrounded with less pretentious buildings reserved for the king’s
household, and the stables.
The tent-poles at the angles of these habitations were plated with metal,
and terminated at their upper extremities in figures of goats and other
animals made of the same material. The tents of the soldiers, were conical
in form, and each was maintained in its position by a forked pole placed
inside. They contained the ordinary requirements of the peasant—-bed
and head-rest, table with legs like those of a gazelle, stools and
folding-chairs; the household utensils and the provisions hung from the
forks of the support. The monuments, which usually give few details of
humble life, are remarkable for their complete reproductions of the daily
scenes in the camp. We see on them, the soldier making his bed, grinding
corn, dressing the carcase of a sheep, which he had just killed, or
pouring out wine; the pot boiling on the fire is watched by the vigilant
eye of a trooper or of a woman, while those not actively employed are
grouped together in twos and threes, eating, drinking, and chatting. A
certain number of priests and soothsayers accompanied the army, but they
did not bring the statues of their gods with them, the only emblems of the
divinities seen in battle being the two royal ensigns, one representing
Assur as lord of the territory, borne on a single bull and bending his
bow, while the other depicted him standing on two bulls as King of
Assyria.* An altar smoked before the chariot on which these two standards
were planted, and every night and morning the prince and his nobles laid
offerings upon it, and recited prayers before it for the well-being of the
army.
Military tactics had not made much progress since the time of the great
Egyptian invasions. The Assyrian generals set out in haste from Nineveh or
Assur in the hope of surprising their enemy, and they often succeeded in
penetrating into the very heart of his country before he had time to
mobilise or concentrate his forces. The work of subduing him was performed
piecemeal; they devastated his fields, robbed his orchards, and, marching
all through the night,** they would arrive with such suddenness before one
or other of his towns, that he would have no time to organise a defence.
Most of their campaigns were mere forced marches across plains and
mountains, without regular sieges or pitched battles.
Should the enemy, however, seek an engagement, and the men be drawn up in
line to meet him, the action would be opened by archers and light troops
armed with slings, who would be followed by the chariotry and heavy
infantry for close attack; a reserve of veterans would await around the
commanding-general the crucial moment of the engagement, when they would
charge in a body among the combatants, and decide the victory by sheer
strength of arm.*
The pursuit of the enemy was never carried to any considerable distance,
for the men were needed to collect the spoil, despatch the wounded, and
carry off the trophies of war. Such of the prisoners as it was deemed
useful or politic to spare were stationed in a safe place under a guard of
sentries. The remainder were condemned to death as they were brought in,
and their execution took place without delay; they were made to kneel
down, with their backs to the soldiery, their heads bowed, and their hands
resting on a flat stone or a billet of wood, in which position they were
despatched with clubs. The scribes, standing before their tent doors,
registered the number of heads cut off; each soldier, bringing his quota
and throwing it upon the heap, gave in his name and the number of his
company, and then withdrew in the hope of receiving a reward proportionate
to the number of his victims.*
When the king happened to accompany the army, he always presided at this
scene, and distributed largesse to those who had shown most bravery; in
his absence he required that the heads of the enemy’s chiefs should be
sent to him, in order that they might be exposed to his subjects on the
gates of his capital. Sieges were lengthy and arduous undertakings. In the
case of towns situated on the plain, the site was usually chosen so as to
be protected by canals, or an arm of a river on two or three sides, thus
leaving one side only without a natural defence, which the inhabitants
endeavoured to make up for by means of double or treble ramparts.*
These fortifications must have resembled those of the Syrian towns; the
walls were broad at the base, and, to prevent scaling, rose to a height of
some thirty or forty feet: there were towers at intervals of a bowshot,
from which the archers could seriously disconcert parties making attacks
against any intervening points in the curtain wall; the massive gates were
covered with raw hides, or were plated with metal to resist assaults by
fire and axe, while, as soon as hostilities commenced, the defence was
further completed by wooden scaffolding. Places thus fortified, however,
at times fell almost without an attempt at resistance; the inhabitants,
having descended into the lowlands to rescue their crops from the
Assyrians, would be disbanded, and, while endeavouring to take refuge
within their ramparts, would be pursued by the enemy, who would gain
admittance with them in the general disorder. If the town did not fall
into their hands by some stroke of good fortune, they would at once
attempt, by an immediate assault, to terrify the garrison into laying down
their arms.*
The archers and slingers led the attack by advancing in couples till they
were within the prescribed distance from the walls, one of the two taking
careful aim, while the other sheltered his comrade behind his round-topped
shield. The king himself would sometimes alight from his chariot and let
fly his arrows in the front rank of the archers, while a handful of
resolute men would rush against the gates of the town and attempt either
to break them down or set them alight with torches. Another party, armed
with stout helmets and quilted jerkins, which rendered them almost
invulnerable to the shower of arrows or stones poured on them by the
besieged, would attempt to undermine the walls by means of levers and
pick-axes, and while thus engaged would be protected by mantelets fixed to
the face of the walls, resembling in shape the shields of the archers.
Often bodies of men would approach the suburbs of the city and endeavour
to obtain access to the ramparts from the roofs of the houses in close
proximity to the walls. If, however, they could gain admittance by none of
these means, and time was of no consideration, they would resign
themselves to a lengthy siege, and the blockade would commence by a
systematic desolation of the surrounding country, in which the villages
scattered over the plain would be burnt, the vines torn up, and all trees
cut down.
The Assyrians waged war with a brutality which the Egyptians would never
have tolerated. Unlike the Pharaohs, their kings were not content to
imprison or put to death the principal instigators of a revolt, but their
wrath would fall upon the entire population. As long as a town resisted
the efforts of their besieging force, all its inhabitants bearing arms who
fell into their hands were subjected to the most cruel tortures; they were
cut to pieces or impaled alive on stakes, which were planted in the ground
just in front of the lines, so that the besieged should enjoy a full view
of the sufferings of their comrades.
Even during the course of a short siege this line of stakes would be
prolonged till it formed a bloody pale between the two contending armies.
This horrible spectacle had at least the effect of shaking the courage of
the besieged, and of hastening the end of hostilities. When at length the
town yielded to the enemy, it was often razed to the ground, and salt was
strewn upon its ruins, while the unfortunate inhabitants were either
massacred or transplanted en masse elsewhere. If the bulk of the
population were spared and condemned to exile, the wealthy and noble were
shown no clemency; they were thrown from, the top of the city towers,
their ears and noses were cut off, their hands and feet were amputated, or
they and their children were roasted over a slow fire, or flayed alive, or
decapitated, and their heads piled up in a heap.
The victorious sovereigns appear to have taken a pride in the ingenuity
with which they varied these means of torture, and dwell with complacency
on the recital of their cruelties. “I constructed a pillar at the gate of
the city,” is the boast of one of them; “I then flayed the chief men, and
covered the post with their skins; I suspended their dead bodies from this
same pillar, I impaled others on the summit of the pillar, and I ranged
others on stakes around the pillar.”
Two or three executions of this kind usually sufficed to demoralise the
enemy. The remaining inhabitants assembled: terrified by the majesty of
Assur, and as it were blinded by the brightness of his countenance, they
sunk down at the knees of the victor and embraced his feet.*
The peace secured at the price of their freedom left them merely with
their lives and such of their goods as could not be removed from the soil.
The scribes thereupon surrounded the spoil seized by the soldiery and drew
up a detailed inventory of the prisoners and their property: everything
worth carrying away to Assyria was promptly registered, and despatched to
the capital.
The contents of the royal palace led the way; it comprised the silver,
gold, and copper of the vanquished prince, his caldrons, dishes and cups
of brass, the women of his harem, the maidens of his household, his
furniture and stuffs, horses and chariots, together with his men and women
servants. The enemy’s gods, like his kings, were despoiled of their
possessions, and poor and rich suffered alike. The choicest of their
troops were incorporated into the Assyrian regiments, and helped to fill
the gaps which war had made in the ranks;* the peasantry and townsfolk
were sold as slaves, or were despatched with their families to till the
domains of the king in some Assyrian village.* Tiglath-pileser I. in this
manner incorporated 120 chariots of the Kashki and the Urumi into the
Assyrian chariotry.
The monuments often depict the exodus of these unfortunate wretches. They
were represented as proceeding on their way in the charge of a few
foot-soldiers—each of the men carrying, without any sign of labour,
a bag of provisions, while the women bear their young children on their
shoulders or in their arms: herds of cows and flocks of goats and sheep
follow, chariots drawn by mules bringing up the rear with the baggage.
While the crowd of non-combatants were conducted in irregular columns
without manacles or chains, the veteran troops and the young men capable
of bearing arms were usually bound together, and sometimes were further
secured by a wooden collar placed on their necks. Many perished on the way
from want or fatigue, but such as were fortunate enough to reach the end
of the journey were rewarded with a small portion of land and a dwelling,
becoming henceforward identified with the indigenous inhabitants of the
country. Assyrians were planted as colonists in the subjugated towns, and
served to maintain there the authority of the conqueror. The condition of
the latter resembled to a great extent that of the old Egyptian vassals in
Phoenicia or Southern Syria. They were allowed to retain their national
constitution, rites, and even their sovereigns; when, for instance, after
some rebellion, one of these princes had been impaled or decapitated, his
successor was always chosen from among the members of his own family,
usually one of his sons, who was enthroned almost before his father had
ceased to breathe. He was obliged to humiliate his own gods before Assur,
to pay a yearly tribute, to render succour in case of necessity to the
commanders of neighbouring garrisons, to send his troops when required to
swell the royal army, to give his sons or brothers as hostages, and to
deliver up his own sisters and daughters, or those of his nobles, for the
harem or the domestic service of the conqueror. The unfortunate prince
soon resigned himself to this state of servitude; he would collect around
him and reorganise his scattered subjects, restore them to their cities,
rebuild their walls, replant the wasted orchards, and sow the devastated
fields. A few years of relative peace and tranquillity, during which he
strove to be forgotten by his conqueror, restored prosperity to his
country; the population increased with extraordinary rapidity, and new
generations arose who, unconscious of the disasters suffered by their
predecessors, had, but one aim, that of recovering their independence. We
must, however, beware of thinking that the defeat of these tribes was as
crushing or their desolation as terrible as the testimony of the
inscriptions would lead us to suppose. The rulers of Nineveh were but too
apt to relate that this or that country had been conquered and its people
destroyed, when the Assyrian army had remained merely a week or a
fortnight within its territory, had burnt some half-dozen fortified towns,
and taken two or three thousand prisoners.*
If we were to accept implicitly all that is recorded of the Assyrian
exploits in Naîri or the Taurus, we should be led to believe that for at
least half a century the valleys of the Upper Tigris and Middle Euphrates
were transformed into a desert; each time, however, that they are
subsequently mentioned on the occasion of some fresh expedition, they
appear once more covered with thriving cities and a vigorous population,
whose generals offer an obstinate resistance to the invaders. We are,
therefore, forced to admit that the majority of these expeditions must be
regarded as mere raids. The population, disconcerted by a sudden attack,
would take refuge in the woods or on the mountains, carrying with them
their gods, whom they thus preserved from captivity, together with a
portion of their treasures and cattle; but no sooner had the invader
retired, than they descended once more into the plain and returned to
their usual occupations. The Assyrian victories thus rarely produced the
decisive results which are claimed for them; they almost always left the
conquered people with sufficient energy and resources to enable them to
resume the conflict after a brief interval, and the supremacy which the
suzerain claimed as a result of his conquests was of the most ephemeral
nature. A revolt would suffice to shake it, while a victory would be
almost certain to destroy it, and once more reduce the empire to the
limits of Assyria proper.
Tukultiabalesharra, familiar to us under the name of Tiglath-pileser,* is
the first of the great warrior-kings of Assyria to stand out before us
with any definite individuality.
We find him, in the interval between two skirmishes, engaged in hunting
lions or in the pursuit of other wild beasts, and we see him lavishing
offerings on the gods and enriching their temples with the spoils of his
victories; these, however, were not the normal occupations of this
sovereign, for peace with him was merely an interlude in a reign of
conflict. He led all his expeditions in person, undeterred by any
consideration of fatigue or danger, and scarcely had he returned from one
arduous campaign, than he proceeded to sketch the plan of that for the
following year; in short, he reigned only to wage war. His father,
Assurîshishi, had bequeathed him not only a prosperous kingdom, but a
well-organised army, which he placed in the field without delay. During
the fifty years since the Mushku, descending through the gorges of the
Taurus, had invaded the Alzi and the Puru-kuzzi, Assyria had not only lost
possession of all the countries bordering the left bank of the Euphrates,
but the whole of Kummukh had withdrawn its allegiance from her, and had
ceased to pay tribute. Tiglath-pileser had ascended the throne only a few
weeks ere he quitted Assur, marched rapidly across Eastern Mesopotamia by
the usual route, through Singar and Nisib, and climbing the chain of the
Kashiara, near Mardîn, bore down into the very heart of Kummukh, where
twenty thousand Mushku, under the command of five kings, resolutely
awaited him. He repulsed them in the very first engagement, and pursued
them hotly over hill and vale, pillaging the fields, and encircling the
towns with trophies of human heads taken from the prisoners who had fallen
into his hands; the survivors, to the number of six thousand, laid down
their arms, and were despatched to Assyria.*
The Kummukh contingents, however, had been separated in the rout from the
Mushku, and had taken refuge beyond the Euphrates, near to the fortress of
Shirisha, where they imagined themselves in safety behind a rampart of
mountains and forests. Tiglath-pileser managed, by cutting a road for his
foot-soldiers and chariots, to reach their retreat: he stormed the place
without apparent difficulty, massacred the defenders, and then turning
upon the inhabitants of Kurkhi,* who were on their way to reinforce the
besieged, drove their soldiers into the Nâmi, whose waters carried the
corpses down to the Tigris. One of their princes, Kilite-shub, son of
Kaliteshub-Sarupi, had been made prisoner during the action.
Tiglath-pileser sent him, together with his wives, children, treasures,
and gods,** to share the captivity of the Mushku; then retracing his
steps, he crossed over to the right bank of the Tigris, and attacked the
stronghold of Urrakhinas which crowned the summit of Panâri.
The people, terror-stricken by the fate of their neighbours, seized their
idols and hid themselves within the thickets like a flock of birds. Their
chief, Shaditeshub, son of Khâtusaru,* ventured from out of his
hiding-place to meet the Assyrian conqueror, and prostrated himself at his
feet. He delivered over his sons and the males of his family as hostages,
and yielded up all his possessions in gold and copper, together with a
hundred and twenty slaves and cattle of all kinds; Tiglath-pileser
thereupon permitted him to keep his principality under the suzerainty of
Assyria, and such of his allies as followed his example obtained a similar
concession. The king consecrated the tenth of the spoil thus received to
the use of his god Assur and also to Rammân;** but before returning to his
capital, he suddenly resolved to make an expedition into the almost
impenetrable regions which separated him from Lake Van.
This district was, even more than at the present day, a confused labyrinth
of wooded mountain ranges, through which the Eastern Tigris and its
affluents poured their rapid waters in tortuous curves. As hitherto no
army had succeeded in making its way through this territory with
sufficient speed to surprise the fortified villages and scattered clans
inhabiting the valleys and mountain slopes, Tiglath-pileser selected from
his force a small troop of light infantry and thirty chariots, with which
he struck into the forests; but, on reaching the Aruma, he was forced to
abandon his chariotry and proceed with the foot-soldiers only. The
Mildîsh, terrified by his sudden appearance, fell an easy prey to the
invader; the king scattered the troops hastily collected to oppose him,
set fire to a few fortresses, seized the peasantry and their flocks, and
demanded hostages and the usual tribute as a condition of peace.*
In his first campaign he thus reduced the upper and eastern half of
Kummukh, namely, the part extending to the north of the Tigris, while in
the following campaign he turned his attention to the regions bounded by
the Euphrates and by the western spurs of the Kashiari. The Alzi and the
Purukuzzi had been disconcerted by his victories, and had yielded him
their allegiance almost without a struggle. To the southward, the Kashku
and the Urumi, who had, to the number of four thousand, migrated from
among the Khâti and compelled the towns of the Shubarti to break their
alliance with the Ninevite kings, now made no attempt at resistance; they
laid down their arms and yielded at discretion, giving up their goods and
their hundred and twenty war-chariots, and resigning themselves to the
task of colonising a distant corner of Assyria. Other provinces, however,
were not so easily dealt with; the inhabitants entrenched themselves
within their wild valleys, from whence they had to be ousted by sheer
force; in the end they always had to yield, and to undertake to pay an
annual tribute. The Assyrian empire thus regained on this side the
countries which Shalmaneser I. had lost, owing to the absorption of his
energies and interests in the events which were taking place in Chaldæa.
In his third campaign Tiglath-pileser succeeded in bringing about the
pacification of the border provinces which shut in the basin of the Tigris
to the north and east. The Kurkhi did not consider themselves conquered by
the check they had received at the Nâmi; several of their tribes were
stirring in Kharia, on the highlands above the Arzania, and their
restlessness threatened to infect such of their neighbours as had already
submitted themselves to the Assyrian yoke. “My master Assur commanded me
to attack their proud summits, which no king has ever visited. I assembled
my chariots and my foot-soldiers, and I passed between the Idni and the
Ala, by a difficult country, across cloud-capped mountains whose peaks
were as the point of a dagger, and unfavourable to the progress of my
chariots; I therefore left my chariots in reserve, and I climbed these
steep mountains. The community of the Kurkhi assembled its numerous
troops, and in order to give me battle they entrenched themselves upon the
Azubtagish; on the slopes of the mountain, an incommodious position, I
came into conflict with them, and I vanquished them.” This lesson cost
them twenty-five towns, situated at the feet of the Aîa, the Shuîra, the
Idni, the Shizu, the Silgu, and the Arzanabiu*—all twenty-five being
burnt to the ground.
The dread of a similar fate impelled the neighbouring inhabitants of
Adaush to beg for a truce, which was granted to them;* but the people of
Saraush and of Ammaush, who “from all time had never known what it was to
obey,” were cut to pieces, and their survivors incorporated into the
empire—a like fate overtaking the Isua and the Daria, who inhabited
Khoatras.**
Beyond this, again, on the banks of the Lesser Zab and the confines of
Lulumô, the principalities of Muraddash and of Saradaush refused to come
to terms. Tiglath-pileser broke their lines within sight of Muraddash, and
entered the town with the fugitives in the confusion which ensued; this
took place about the fourth hour of the day. The success was so prompt and
complete, that the king was inclined to attribute it to the help of
Rammân, and he made an offering to the temple of this god at Assur of all
the copper, whether wrought or in ore, which was found among the spoil of
the vanquished. He was recalled almost immediately after this victory by a
sedition among the Kurkhi near the sources of the Tigris. One of their
tribes, known as the Sugi, who had not as yet suffered from the invaders,
had concentrated round their standards contingents from some half-dozen
cities, and the united force was, to the number of six thousand, drawn up
on Mount Khirikhâ. Tiglath-pileser was again victorious, and took from
them twenty-five statues of their gods, which he despatched to Assyria to
be distributed among the sanctuaries of Belît at Assur, of Anu, Bammân,
and of Ishtar. Winter obliged him to suspend operations. When he again
resumed them at the beginning of his third year, both the Kummukh and the
Kurkhi were so peaceably settled that he was able to carry his expeditions
without fear of danger further north, into the regions of the Upper
Euphrates between the Halys and Lake Van, a district then known as Naîri.
He marched diagonally across the plain of Diarbekîr, penetrated through
dense forests, climbed sixteen mountain ridges one after the other by
paths hitherto considered impracticable, and finally crossed the Euphrates
by improvised bridges, this being, as far as we know, the first time that
an Assyrian monarch had ventured into the very heart of those countries
which had formerly constituted the Hittite empire.
He found them occupied by rude and warlike tribes, who derived
considerable wealth from working the mines, and possessed each their own
special sanctuary, the ruins of which still appear above ground, and
invite the attention of the explorer. Their fortresses must have all more
or less resembled that city of the Pterians which flourished for so many
ages just at the bend of the Halys;* its site is still marked by a mound
rising to some thirty feet above the plain, resembling the platforms on
which the Chaldæan temples were always built—a few walls of burnt
brick, and within an enclosure, among the débris of rudely built houses,
the ruins of some temples and palaces consisting of large irregular blocks
of stone.
Two colossal sphinxes guard the gateway of the principal edifice, and
their presence proves with certainty how predominant was Egyptian
influence even at this considerable distance from the banks of the Nile.
They are not the ordinary sphinxes, with a human head surmounting the body
of a lion couchant on its stone pedestal; but, like the Assyrian bulls,
they are standing, and, to judge from the Hathorian locks which fall on
each side of their countenances, they must have been intended to represent
a protecting goddess rather than a male deity. A remarkable emblem is
carved on the side of the upright to which their bodies are attached; it
is none other than the double-headed eagle, the prototype of which is not
infrequently found at Telloh in Lower Chaldæa, among remains dating from
the time of the kings and vicegerents of Lagash.
The court or hall to which this gate gave access was decorated with
bas-reliefs, which exhibit a glaring imitation of Babylonian art; we can
still see on these the king, vested in his long flowing robes, praying
before an altar, while further on is a procession of dignitaries following
a troop of rams led by a priest to be sacrificed; another scene represents
two individuals in the attitude of worship, wearing short loin-cloths, and
climbing a ladder whose upper end has an uncertain termination, while a
third person applies his hands to his mouth in the performance of some
mysterious ceremony; beyond these are priests and priestesses moving in
solemn file as if in the measured tread of some sacred dance, while in one
corner we find the figure of a woman, probably a goddess, seated, holding
in one hand a flower, perhaps the full-blown lotus, and in the other a cup
from which she is about to drink. The costume of all these figures is that
which Chaldæan fashion had imposed upon the whole of Western Asia, and
consisted of the long heavy robe, falling from the shoulders to the feet,
drawn in at the waist by a girdle; but it is to be noted that both sexes
are shod with the turned-up shoes of the Hittites, and that the women wear
high peaked caps.
The composition of the scenes is rude, the drawing incorrect, and the
general technique reminds us rather of the low reliefs of the Memphite or
Theban sculptors than of the high projection characteristic of the artists
of the Lower Euphrates. These slabs of sculptured stone formed a facing at
the base of the now crumbling brick walls, the upper surface of which was
covered with rough plastering. Here and there a few inscriptions reveal
the name, titles, and parentage of some once celebrated personage, and
mention the god in whose honour he had achieved the work.
The characters in which these inscriptions are written are not, as a rule,
incised in the stone, but are cut in relief upon its surface, and if some
few of them may remind us of the Egyptian hieroglyphs, the majority are
totally unlike them, both in form and execution. A careful examination of
them reveals a medley of human and animal outlines, geometrical figures,
and objects of daily use, which all doubtless corresponded to some letter
or syllable, but to which we have as yet no trustworthy key. This system
of writing is one of a whole group of Asiatic scripts, specimens of which
are common in this part of the world from Crete to the banks of the
Euphrates and Orontes. It is thought that the Khâti must have already
adopted it before their advent to power, and that it was they who
propagated it in Northern Syria. It did not take the place of the
cuneiform syllabary for ordinary purposes of daily life owing to its
clumsiness and complex character, but its use was reserved for monumental
inscriptions of a royal or religious kind, where it could be suitably
employed as a framework to scenes or single figures.
It, however, never presented the same graceful appearance and arrangement
as was exhibited in the Egyptian hieroglyphs, the signs placed side by
side being out of proportion with each other so as to destroy the general
harmony of the lines, and it must be regarded as a script still in process
of formation and not yet emerged from infancy. Every square yard of soil
turned up among the ruins of the houses of Euyuk yields vestiges of tools,
coarse pottery, terra-cotta and bronze statuettes of men and animals, and
other objects of a not very high civilization. The few articles of luxury
discovered, whether in furniture or utensils, were not indigenous
products, but were imported for the most part from Chaldæa, Syria,
Phoenicia, and perhaps from Egypt; some objects, indeed, came from the
coast-towns of the Ægean, thus showing that Western influence was already
in contact with the traditions of the East.
All the various races settled between the Halys and the Orontes were more
or less imbued with this foreign civilization, and their monuments, though
not nearly so numerous as those of the Pharaohs and Ninevite kings, bear,
nevertheless, an equally striking evidence of its power. Examples of it
have been pointed out in a score of different places in the valleys of the
Taurus and on the plains of Cappadocia, in bas-reliefs, steke, seals, and
intaglios, several of which must be nearly contemporaneous with the first
Assyrian conquest.
One instance of it appears on the rocks at Ibriz, where a king stands in a
devout attitude before a jovial giant whose hands are full of grapes and
wheat-ears, while in another bas-relief near Frakhtîn we have a double
scene of sacrifice. The rock-carving at Ibriz is, perhaps, of all the
relics of a forgotten world, that which impresses the spectator most
favourably. The concept of the scene is peculiarly naïve; indeed, the two
figures are clumsily brought together, though each of them, when examined
separately, is remarkable for its style and execution. The king has a
dignified bearing in spite of his large head, round eyes, and the
unskilful way in which his arms are set on his body. The figure of the god
is not standing firmly on both feet, but the sculptor has managed to
invest him with an air of grandeur and an expression of vigour and bonhomie,
which reminds us of certain types of the Greek Hercules.
Tiglath-pileser was probably attracted to Asia Minor as much by
considerations of mercantile interest as by the love of conquest or desire
for spoil. It would, indeed, have been an incomparable gain for him had he
been able, if not to seize the mines themselves, at least to come into
such close proximity to them that he would be able to monopolise their
entire output, and at the same time to lay hands on the great commercial
highway to the trade centres of the west. The eastern terminus of this
route lay already within his domains, namely, that which led to Assur by
way of Amid, Nisibe, Singar, and the valley of the Upper Tigris; he was
now desirous of acquiring that portion of it which wound its way from the
fords of the Euphrates at Malatîyeh to the crossing of the Halys. The
changes which had just taken place in Kummukh and Nairi had fully aroused
the numerous petty sovereigns of the neighbourhood. The bonds which kept
them together had not been completely severed at the downfall of the
Hittite empire, and a certain sense of unity still lingered among them in
spite of their continual feuds; they constituted, in fact, a sort of loose
confederation, whose members never failed to help one another when they
were threatened by a common enemy. As soon as the news of an Assyrian
invasion reached them, they at once put aside their-mutual quarrels and
combined to oppose the invader with their united forces. Tiglath-pileser
had, therefore, scarcely crossed the Euphrates before he was attacked on
his right flank by twenty-three petty kings of Naîri,* while sixty other
chiefs from the same neighbourhood bore down upon him in front. He
overcame the first detachment of the confederates, though not without a
sharp struggle; he carried carnage into their ranks, “as it were the
whirlwind of Eammân,” and seized a hundred and twenty of the enemy’s
chariots. The sixty chiefs, whose domains extended as far as the “Upper
Sea,” ** were disconcerted by the news of the disaster, and of their own
accord laid down their arms, or offered but a feeble resistance.
Tiglath-pileser presented some of them in chains to the god Shamash; he
extorted an oath of vassalage from them, forced them to give up their
children as hostages, and laid a tax upon them en masse of 1200
stallions and 2000 bulls, after which he permitted them to return to their
respective towns. He had, however, singled out from among them to grace
his own triumph, Sini of Dayana, the only chief among them who had offered
him an obstinate resistance; but even he was granted his liberty after he
had been carried captive to Assur, and made to kneel before the gods of
Assyria.*
Before returning to the capital, Tiglath-pileser attacked Khanigalbat, and
appeared before Milidia: as the town attempted no defence, he spared it,
and contented himself with levying a small contribution upon its
inhabitants. This expedition was rather of the nature of a reconnaissance
than a conquest, but it helped to convince the king of the difficulty of
establishing any permanent suzerainty over the country. The Asiatic
peoples were quick to bow before a sudden attack; but no sooner had the
conqueror departed, than those who had sworn him eternal fealty sought
only how best to break their oaths. The tribes in immediate proximity to
those provinces which had been long subject to the Assyrian rule, were
intimidated into showing some respect for a power which existed so close
to their own borders. But those further removed from the seat of
government felt a certain security in their distance from it, and were
tempted to revert to the state of independence they had enjoyed before the
conquest; so that unless the sovereign, by a fresh campaign, promptly made
them realise that their disaffection would not remain unpunished, they
soon forgot their feudatory condition and the duties which it entailed.
Three years of merciless conflict with obstinate and warlike mountain
tribes had severely tried the Assyrian army, if it had not worn out the
sovereign; the survivors of so many battles were in sore need of a
well-merited repose, the gaps left by death had to be filled, and both
infantry and chariotry needed the re-modelling of their corps. The fourth
year of the king’s reign, therefore, was employed almost entirely in this
work of reorganisation; we find only the record of a raid of a few weeks
against the Akhlamî and other nomadic Aramæans situated beyond the
Mesopotamian steppes. The Assyrians spread over the district between the
frontiers of Sukhi and the fords of Carchemish for a whole day, killing
all who resisted, sacking the villages and laying hands on slaves and
cattle. The fugitives escaped over the Euphrates, vainly hoping that they
would be secure in the very heart of the Khâti. Tiglath-pileser, however,
crossed the river on rafts supported on skins, and gave the provinces of
Mount Bishri over to fire and sword:* six walled towns opened their gates
to him without having ventured to strike a blow, and he quitted the
country laden with spoil before the kings of the surrounding cities had
had time to recover from their alarm.
This expedition was for Tiglath-pileser merely an interlude between two
more serious campaigns; and with the beginning of his fifth year he
reappeared in the provinces of the Upper Euphrates to complete his
conquest of them. He began by attacking and devastating Musri, which lay
close to the territory of Milid. While thus occupied he was harassed by
bands of Kumani; he turned upon them, overcame them, and imprisoned the
remainder of them in the fortress of Arini, at the foot of Mount Aisa,
where he forced them to kiss his feet. His victory over them, however, did
not disconcert their neighbours. The bulk of the Kumani, whose troops had
scarcely suffered in the engagement, fortified themselves on Mount Tala,
to the number of twenty thousand; the king carried the heights by assault,
and hotly pursued the fugitives as far as the range of Kharusa before
Musri, where the fortress of Khunusa afforded them a retreat behind its
triple walls of brick. The king, nothing daunted, broke his way through
them one after another, demolished the ramparts, razed the houses, and
strewed the ruins with salt; he then constructed a chapel of brick as a
sort of trophy, and dedicated within it what was known as a copper
thunderbolt, being an image of the missile which Eammân, the god of
thunder, brandished in the face of his enemies. An inscription engraved on
the object recorded the destruction of Khunusa, and threatened with every
divine malediction the individual, whether an Assyrian or a stranger, who
should dare to rebuild the city. This victory terrified the Kumani, and
their capital, Kibshuna, opened its gates to the royal troops at the first
summons. Tiglath-pileser completely destroyed the town, but granted the
inhabitants their lives on condition of their paying tribute; he chose
from among them, however, three hundred families who had shown him the
most inveterate hostility, and sent them as exiles into Assyria.*
With this victory the first half of his reign drew to its close; in five
years Tiglath-pileser had subjugated forty-two peoples and their princes
within an area extending from the banks of the Lower Zab to the plains of
the Khâti, and as far as the shores of the Western Seas. He revisited more
than once these western and northern regions in which he had gained his
early triumphs. The reconnaissance which he had made around Carchemish had
revealed to him the great wealth of the Syrian table-land, and that a
second raid in that direction could be made more profitable than ten
successful campaigns in Naîri or upon the banks of the Zab. He therefore
marched his battalions thither, this time to remain for more than a few
days. He made his way through the whole breadth of the country, pushed
forward up the valley of the Orontes, crossed the Lebanon, and emerged
above the coast of the Mediterranean in the vicinity of Arvad.
This is the first time for many centuries that an Oriental sovereign had
penetrated so far west; and his contemporaries must have been obliged to
look back to the almost fabulous ages of Sargon of Agadê or of Khammurabi,
to find in the long lists of the dynasties of the Euphrates any record of
a sovereign who had planted his standards on the shores of the Sea of the
Setting Sun.*
Tiglath-pileser embarked on its waters, made a cruise into the open, and
killed a porpoise, but we have no record of any battles fought, nor do we
know how he was received by the Phoenician towns. He pushed on, it is
thought, as far as the Nahr el-Kelb, and the sight of the hieroglyphic
inscriptions which Ramses had caused to be cut there three centuries
previously aroused his emulation. Assyrian conquerors rarely quitted the
scene of their exploits without leaving behind them some permanent
memorial of their presence. A sculptor having hastily smoothed the surface
of a rock, cut out on it a figure of the king, to which was usually added
a commemorative inscription. In front of this stele was erected an altar,
upon which sacrifices were made, and if the monument was placed near a
stream or the seashore, the soldiers were accustomed to cast portions of
the victims into the water in order to propitiate the river-deities.
One of the half-effaced Assyrian stelæ adjoining those of the Egyptian
conqueror is attributed to Tiglath-pileser.*
It was on his return, perhaps, from this campaign that he planted colonies
at Pitru on the right, and at Mutkînu on the left bank of the Euphrates,
in order to maintain a watch over Carchemish, and the more important fords
connecting Mesopotamia with the plains of the Apriê and the Orontes.*
The news of Tiglath-pileser’s expedition was not long in reaching the
Delta, and the Egyptian monarch then reigning at Tanis was thus made
acquainted with the fact that there had arisen in Syria a new power before
which his own was not unlikely to give way. In former times such news
would have led to a war between the two states, but the time had gone by
when Egypt was prompt to take up arms at the slightest encroachment on her
Asiatic provinces. Her influence at this time was owing merely to her
former renown, and her authority beyond the isthmus was purely
traditional. The Tanite Pharaoh had come to accept with resignation the
change in the fortunes of Egypt, and he therefore contented himself with
forwarding to the Assyrian conqueror, by one of the Syrian coasting
vessels, a present of some rare wild beasts and a few crocodiles. In olden
times Assyria had welcomed the arrival of Thûtmosis III. on the Euphrates
by making him presents, which the Theban monarch regarded in the light of
tribute: the case was now reversed, the Egyptian Pharaoh taking the
position formerly occupied by the Assyrian monarch. Tiglath-pileser
graciously accepted this unexpected homage, but the turbulent condition of
the northern tribes prevented his improving the occasion by an advance
into Phoenicia and the land of Canaan. Naîri occupied his attention on two
separate occasions at least; on the second of these he encamped in the
neighbourhood of the source of the river Subnat. This stream, had for a
long period issued from a deep grotto, where in ancient times a god was
supposed to dwell. The conqueror was lavish in religious offerings here,
and caused a bas-relief to be engraved on the entrance in remembrance of
his victories.
He is here represented as standing upright, the tiara on his brow, and his
right arm extended as if in the act of worship, while his left, the elbow
brought up to his side, holds a club. The inscription appended to the
figure tells, with an eloquence all the more effective from its brevity,
how, “with the aid of Assur, Shamash, and Eammân, the great gods, my
lords, I, Tiglath-pileser, King of Assyria, son of Assurîshishî, King of
Assyria, son of Mutakkilnusku, King of Assyria, conqueror from the great
sea, the Mediterranean, to the great sea of Naîri, I went for the third
time to Naîri.”
The gods who had so signally favoured the monarch received the greater
part of the spoils which he had secured in his campaigns. The majority of
the temples of Assyria, which were founded at a time when its city was
nothing more than a provincial capital owing allegiance to Babylon, were
either, it would appear, falling to ruins from age, or presented a sorry
exterior, utterly out of keeping with the magnitude of its recent wealth.
The king set to work to enlarge or restore the temples of Ishtar, Martu,
and the ancient Bel;* he then proceeded to rebuild, from the foundations
to the summit, that of Anu and Bammân, which the vicegerent Samsirammân,
son of Ismidagan, had constructed seven hundred and one years previously.
This temple was the principal sanctuary of the city, because it was the
residence of the chief of the gods, Assur, under his appellation of Anu.**
The soil was cleared away down to the bed-rock, upon which an enormous
substructure, consisting of fifty courses of bricks, was laid, and above
this were erected two lofty ziggurâts, whose tile-covered surfaces shone
like the rising sun in their brightness; the completion of the whole was
commemorated by a magnificent festival. The special chapel of Bammân and
his treasury, dating from the time of the same Samsirammân who had raised
the temple of Anu, were also rebuilt on a more important scale.*
These works were actively carried on notwithstanding the fact that war was
raging on the frontier; however preoccupied he might be with warlike
projects, Tiglath-pileser never neglected the temples, and set to work to
collect from every side materials for their completion and adornment.
He brought, for example, from Naîri such marble and hard stone as might be
needed for sculptural purposes, together with the beams of cedar and
cypress required by his carpenters. The mountains of Singar and of the Zab
furnished the royal architects with building stone for ordinary uses, and
for those facing slabs of bluish gypsum on which the bas-reliefs of the
king’s exploits were carved; the blocks ready squared were brought down
the affluents of the Tigris on rafts or in boats, and thus arrived at
their destination without land transport.
The kings of Assyria, like the Pharaohs, had always had a passion for rare
trees and strange animals; as soon as they entered a country, they
inquired what natural curiosities it contained, and they would send back
to their own land whatever specimens of them could be procured.
The triumphal cortege which accompanied the monarch on his return
after each campaign comprised not only prisoners and spoil of a useful
sort, but curiosities from all the conquered districts, as, for instance,
animals of unusual form or habits, rhinoceroses and crocodiles,* and if
some monkey of a rare species had been taken in the sack of a town, it
also would find a place in the procession, either held in a leash or
perched on the shoulders of its keeper.
The campaigns of the monarch were thus almost always of a double nature,
comprising not merely a conflict with men, but a continual pursuit of wild
beasts. Tiglath-pileser, “in the service of Ninib, had killed four great
specimens of the male urus in the desert of Mitanni, near to the town of
Arazîki, opposite to the countries of the Khâti;* he killed them with his
powerful bow, his dagger of iron, his pointed lance, and he brought back
their skins and horns to his city of Assur. He secured ten strong male
elephants, in the territory of Harrân and upon the banks of the Khabur,
and he took four of them alive: he brought back their skins and their
tusks, together with the living elephants, to his city of Assur.” He
killed moreover, doubtless also in the service of Ninib, a hundred and
twenty lions, which he attacked on foot, despatching eight hundred more
with arrows from his chariot,** all within the short space of five years,
and we may well ask what must have been the sum total, if the complete
record for his whole reign were extant. We possess, unfortunately, no
annals of the later years of this monarch; we have reason to believe that
he undertook several fresh expeditions into Nairi,*** and a mutilated
tablet records some details of troubles with Elam in the Xth year of his
reign.
We gather that he attacked a whole series of strongholds, some of whose
names have a Cossæan ring about them, such as Madkiu, Sudrun, Ubrukhundu,
Sakama, Shuria, Khirishtu, and Andaria. His advance in this direction must
have considerably provoked the Chaldæans, and, indeed, it was not long
before actual hostilities broke out between the two nations. The first
engagement took place in the valley of the Lower Zab, in the province of
Arzukhina, without any decisive result, but in the following year fortune
favoured the Assyrians, for Dur-kurigalzu, both Sipparas, Babylon, and Upi
opened their gates to them, while Akar-sallu, the Akhlamê, and the whole
of Sukhi as far as Eapîki tendered their submission to
Tiglath-achuch-sawh-akhl-pileser.
Merodach-nadin-akhi, who was at this time reigning in Chaldæa, was like
his ancestor Nebuchadrezzar I., a brave and warlike sovereign: he appears
at first to have given way under the blow thus dealt him, and to have
acknowledged the suzerainty of his rival, who thereupon assumed the title
of Lord of the four Houses of the World, and united under a single empire
the valleys of the Tigris and Euphrates. But this state of things lasted
for a few years only; Merodach-nadin-akhi once more took courage, and,
supported by the Chaldæan nobility, succeeded in expelling the intruders
from Sumir and Akkad. The Assyrians, however, did not allow themselves to
be driven out without a struggle, but fortune turned against them; they
were beaten, and the conqueror inflicted on the Assyrian gods the
humiliation to which they had so often subjected those of other nations.
He took the statues of Eammân and Shala from Ekallati, carried them to
Babylon, and triumphantly set them up within the temple of Bel. There they
remained in captivity for 418 years.* Tiglath-pileser did not long survive
this disaster, for he died about the year 1100 B.C.,** and two of his sons
succeeded him on the throne. The elder, Assur-belkala,*** had neither
sufficient energy nor resources to resume the offensive, and remained a
passive spectator of the revolutions which distracted Babylon.
Merodach-nadin-akhi had been followed by his son Merodach-shapîk-zîrîm,*
but this prince was soon dethroned by the people, and Bammân-abaliddîn, a
man of base extraction, seized the crown.
Assur-belkala not only extended to this usurper the friendly relations he
had kept up with the legitimate sovereign, but he asked for the hand of
his daughter in marriage, and the rich dowry which she brought her husband
no doubt contributed to the continuation of his pacific policy. He appears
also to have kept possession of all the parts of Mesopotamia and Kammukh
conquered by his father, and it is possible that he may have penetrated
beyond the Euphrates. His brother, Samsi-rammân III., does not appear to
have left any more definite mark upon history than Assur-belkala; he
decorated the temples built by his predecessors, but beyond this we have
no certain record of his achievements. We know nothing of the kings who
followed him, their names even having been lost, but about a century and a
half after Tiglath-pileser, a certain Assurirba seems to have crossed
Northern Syria, and following in the footsteps of his great ancestor, to
have penetrated as far as the Mediterranean: on the rocks of Mount Amanus,
facing the sea, he left a triumphal inscription in which he set forth the
mighty deeds he had accomplished. This is merely a gleam out of the murky
night which envelops his history, and the testimony of one of his
descendants informs us that his good fortune soon forsook him: the
Aramaeans wrested from him the fortresses of Pitru and Mutkînu, which
commanded both banks of the Euphrates near Carchemish. Nor did the
retrograde movement slaken after his time: Assyria slowly wasted away down
to the end of the Xth century, and but for the simultaneous decadence of
the Chaldaeans, its downfall would have been complete. But neither
Rammân-abaliddîn nor his successor was able to take advantage of its
weakness; discord and want of energy soon brought about their own ruin.
The dynasty of Pashê disappeared towards the middle of the Xth century,
and a family belonging to the “Countries of the Sea” took its place: it
had continued for about one hundred and thirty-two years, and had produced
eleven kings.*
What were the causes of this depression, from which Babylon suffered at
almost regular intervals, as though stricken with some periodic malady?
The main reason soon becomes apparent if we consider the nature of the
country and the material conditions of its existence. Chaldæa was neither
extensive enough nor sufficiently populous to afford a solid basis for the
ambition of her princes. Since nearly every man capable of bearing arms
was enrolled in the army, the Chaktean kings had no difficulty in raising,
at a moment’s notice, a force which could be employed to repel an
invasion, or make a sudden attack on some distant territory; it was in
schemes which required prolonged and sustained effort that they felt the
drawbacks of their position. In that age of hand-to-hand combats, the
mortality in battle was very high, forced marches through forests and
across mountains entailed a heavy loss of men, and three or four
consecutive campaigns against a stubborn foe soon reduced an army to a
condition of dangerous weakness. Recruits might be obtained to fill the
earlier vacancies in the ranks, but they soon grew fewer and fewer if time
was not given for recovery after the opening victories in the struggle,
and the supply eventually ceased if operations were carried on beyond a
certain period.
The total duration of the dynasty was, according to the Royal Canon, 72
years 6 months. Peiser has shown that this is a mistake, and he proposes
to correct it to 132 years 6 months, and this is accepted by most
Assyri-ologists.
A reign which began brilliantly often came to an impotent conclusion,
owing to the king having failed to economise his reserves; and the
generations which followed, compelled to adopt a strictly defensive
attitude, vegetated in a sort of anaemic condition, until the birth-rate
had brought the proportion of males up to a figure sufficiently high to
provide the material for a fresh army. When Nebuchadrezzar made war upon
Assurîshishî, he was still weak from the losses he had incurred during the
campaign against Elam, and could not conduct his attack with the same
vigour as had gained him victory on the banks of the Ulaî; in the first
year he only secured a few indecisive advantages, and in the second he
succumbed. Merodach-nadin-akhi was suffering from the reverses sustained
by his predecessors when Tiglath-pileser provoked him to war, and though
he succeeded in giving a good account of an adversary who was himself
exhausted by dearly bought successes, he left to his descendants a kingdom
which had been drained of its last drop of blood. The same reason which
explains the decadence of Babylon shows us the cause of the periodic
eclipses undergone by Assyria after each outburst of her warlike spirit.
She, too, had to pay the penalty of an ambition which was out of all
proportion to her resources. The mighty deeds of Shalmaneser and
Tukulti-ninip were, as a natural consequence, followed by a state of
complete prostration under Tukultiassurbel and Assurnîrarî: the country
was now forced to pay for the glories of Assurîshishî and of
Tiglath-pileser by falling into an inglorious state of languor and
depression. Its kings, conscious that their rule must be necessarily
precarious as long as they did not possess a larger stock of recruits to
fall back on, set their wits to work to provide by various methods a more
adequate reserve. While on one hand they installed native Assyrians in the
more suitable towns of conquered countries, on the other they imported
whole hordes of alien prisoners chosen for their strength and courage, and
settled them down in districts by the banks of the Tigris and the Zab. We
do not know what Eammânirâni and Shalmaneser may have done in this way,
but Tiglath-pileser undoubtedly introduced thousands of the Mushku, the
Urumseans, the people of Kummukh and Naîri, and his example was followed
by all those of his successors whose history has come down to us. One
might have expected that such an invasion of foreigners, still smarting
under the sense of defeat, might have brought with it an element of
discontent or rebellion; far from it, they accepted their exile as a
judgment of the gods, which the gods alone had a right to reverse, and did
their best to mitigate the hardness of their lot by rendering unhesitating
obedience to their masters. Their grandchildren, born in the midst of
Assyrians, became Assyrians themselves, and if they did not entirely
divest themselves of every trace of their origin, at any rate became so
closely identified with the country of their adoption, that it was
difficult to distinguish them from the native race. The Assyrians who were
sent out to colonise recently acquired provinces were at times exposed to
serious risks. Now and then, instead of absorbing the natives among whom
they lived, they were absorbed by them, which meant a loss of so much
fighting strength to the mother country; even under the most favourable
conditions a considerable time must have passed before they could succeed
in assimilating to themselves the races amongst whom they lived. At last,
however, a day would dawn when the process of incorporation was
accomplished, and Assyria, having increased her area and resources
twofold, found herself ready to endure to the end the strain of conquest.
In the interval, she suffered from a scarcity of fighting men, due to the
losses incurred in her victories, and must have congratulated herself that
her traditional foe was not in a position to take advantage of this fact.
The first wave of the Assyrian invasion had barely touched Syria; it had
swept hurriedly over the regions in the north, and then flowed southwards
to return no more, so that the northern races were able to resume the
wonted tenor of their lives. For centuries after this their condition
underwent no change; there was the same repetition of dissension and
intrigue, the same endless succession of alliances and battles without any
signal advantage on either side. The Hittites still held Northern Syria:
Carchemish was their capital, and more than one town in its vicinity
preserved the tradition of their dress, their language, their arts, and
their culture in full vigour. The Greek legends tell us vaguely of some
sort of Cilician empire which is said to have brought the eastern and
central provinces of Asia Minor into subjection about ten centuries before
our era.*
Is there any serious foundation for such a belief, and must we assume that
there existed at this time and in this part of the world a kingdom similar
to that of Sapalulu? Assyria was recruiting its forces, Chaldæa was kept
inactive by its helplessness, Egypt slumbered by the banks of its river,
there was no actor of the first rank to fill the stage; now was the
opportunity for a second-rate performer to come on the scene and play such
a part as his abilities permitted. The Cilician conquest, if this be
indeed the date at which it took place, had the boards to itself for a
hundred years after the defeat of Assurirba. The time was too short to
admit of its striking deep root in the country. Its leaders and men were,
moreover, closely related to the Syrian Hittites; the language they spoke
was, if not precisely the Hittite, at any rate a dialect of it; their
customs were similar, if, perhaps, somewhat less refined, as is often the
case with mountain races, when compared with the peoples of the plain. We
are tempted to conclude that some of the monuments found south of the
Taurus were their handiwork, or, at any rate, date from their time. For
instance, the ruined palace at Sinjirli, the lower portions of which are
ornamented with pictures similar to those at Pteria, representing
processions of animals, some real, others fantastic, men armed with lances
or bending the bow, and processions of priests or officials. Then there is
the great lion at Marash, which stands erect, with menacing head, its
snarling lips exposing the teeth; its body is seamed with the long lines
of an inscription in the Asiatic character, in imitation of those with
which the bulls in the Assyrian palaces are covered. These Cilicians gave
an impulse to the civilization of the Khâti which they sorely needed, for
the Semitic races, whom they had kept in subjection for centuries, now
pressed them hard on all the territory over which they had formerly
reigned, and were striving to drive them back into the hills.
The Aramæans in particular gave them a great deal of trouble. The states
on the banks of the Euphrates had found them awkward neighbours; was this
the moment chosen by the Pukudu, the Eutu, the Gambulu, and a dozen other
Aramaean tribes, for a stealthy march across the frontier of Elam, between
Durilu and the coast? The tribes from which, soon after, the Kaldi nation
was formed, were marauding round Eridu, Uru, and Larsa, and may have
already begun to lay the foundations of their supremacy over Babylon: it
is, indeed, an open question whether those princes of the Countries of the
Sea who succeeded the Pashê dynasty did not come from the stock of the
Kaldi Aramaeans. While they were thus consolidating on the south-east, the
bulk of the nation continued to ascend northwards, and rejoined its
outposts in the central region of the Euphrates, which extends from the
Tigris to the Khabur, from the Khabur to the Balîkh and the Apriê. They
had already come into frequent conflict with most of the victorious
Assyrian kings, from Eammânirâri down to Tiglath-pileser; the weakness of
Assyria and Chaldæa gave them their opportunity, and they took full
advantage of it. They soon became masters of the whole of Mesopotamia; a
part of the table-land extending from Carchemish to Mount Amanus fell into
their hands, their activity was still greater in the basin of the Orontes,
and their advanced guard, coming into collision with the Amorites near the
sources of the Litany, began gradually to drive farther and farther
southwards all that remained of the races which had shown so bold a front
to the Egyptian troops. Here was an almost entirely new element, gradually
eliminating from the scene of the struggle other elements which had grown
old through centuries of war, and while this transformation was taking
place in Northern and Central, a similar revolution was effecting a no
less surprising metamorphosis in Southern Syria. There, too, newer races
had gradually come to displace the nations over which the dynasties of
Thûtmosis and Ramses had once held sway. The Hebrews on the east, the
Philistines and their allies on the south-west, were about to undertake
the conquest of the Kharu and its cities. As yet their strength was
inadequate, their temperament undecided, their system of government
imperfect; but they brought with them the quality of youth, and energies
which, rightly guided, would assure the nation which first found out how
to take advantage of them, supremacy over all its rivals, and the strength
necessary for consolidating the whole country into a single kingdom.
THE HEBREWS AND THE PHILISTINES—DAMASCUS
THE ISRAELITES IN THE LAND OF CANAAN: THE JUDGES—THE PHILISTINES
AND THE HEBREW KINGDOM—SAUL, DAVID, SOLOMON, THE DEFECTION OF THE
TEN TRIBES—THE XXIst EGYPTIAN DYNASTY—SHESHONQ OR SHISHAK
DAMASCUS.
The Hebrews in the desert: their families, clans, and tribes—The
Amorites and the Hebrews on the left bank of the Jordan—The conquest
of Canaan and the native reaction against the Hebrews—The judges,
Ehud, Deborah, Jerubbaal or Gideon and the Manassite supremacy; Abimelech,
Jephihdh.
The Philistines, their political organisation, their army and fleet—Judah,
Dan, and the story of Samson—Benjamin on the Philistine frontier—Eli
and the ark of the covenant—The Philistine dominion over Israel;
Samuel, Saul, the Benjamite monarchy—David, his retreat to the
desert of Judah and his sojourn at Zilclag—The battle of Gilboa and
the death of Saul—The struggle between Ish-bosheth and David—David
sole king, and the final defeat of the Philistines—Jerusalem becomes
the capital; the removal of the ark—Wars with the peoples of the
East—Absalom’s rebellion; the coronation of Solomon.
Solomon’s government and his buildings—Phoenician colonisation in
Spain: Hiram I. and the enlargement of Tyre—The voyages to Ophir and
Tarshish—The palace at Jerusalem, the temple and its dedication: the
priesthood and prophets—The death of Solomon; the schism of the ten
tribes and the division of the Hebrew kingdom.
The XXIst Egyptian dynasty: the Theban high priests and the Tanite
Pharaohs—The Libyan mercenaries and their predominance in the state:
the origin of the XXIInd (Bubastite) dynasty—Sheshonq I. as king and
his son Aûpûti as high priest of Amon; the hiding-place at Deîr el-Baharî—Sheshonq’s
expedition against Jerusalem.
The two Hebrew “kingdoms”; the fidelity of Judah to the descendants of
Solomon, and the repeated changes of dynasty in Israel—Asa and
Baasha—The kingdom of Damascus and its origin—Bezon,
Tabrimmon, Benhadad I.—Omri and the foundation of Samaria: Ahab and
the Tyrian alliance—The successors of Hiram I. at Tyre: Ithobaal I.—The
prophets, their struggle against Phonician idolatry, the story of Elijah—The
wars between Israel and Damascus up to the time of the Assyrian invasion.
CHAPTER III—THE HEBREWS AND THE PHILISTINES—DAMASCUS
The Israelites in the land of Canaan: the judges—The Philistines
and the Hebrew kingdom—Saul, David, Solomon, the defection of the
ten tribes—the XXIst Egyptian dynasty—Sheshonq—Damascus.
After reaching Kadesh-barnea, the Israelites in their wanderings had come
into contact with various Bedawin tribes—Kenites, Jerahmelites,
Edomites, and Midianites, with whom they had in turn fought or allied
themselves, according to the exigencies of their pastoral life. Continual
skirmishes had taught them the art of war, their numbers had rapidly
increased, and with this increase came a consciousness of their own
strength, so that, after a lapse of two or three generations, they may be
said to have constituted a considerable nation. Its component elements
were not, however, firmly welded together; they consisted of an indefinite
number of clans, which were again subdivided into several families. Each
of these families had its chief or “ruler,” to whom it rendered absolute
obedience, while the united chiefs formed an assembly of elders who
administered justice when required, and settled any differences which
arose among their respective followers. The clans in their turn were
grouped into tribes,* according to certain affinities which they mutually
recognised, or which may have been fostered by daily intercourse on a
common soil, but the ties which bound them together at this period were of
the most slender character. It needed some special event, such as a
projected migration in search of fresh pasturage, or an expedition against
a turbulent neighbour, or a threatened invasion by some stranger, to rouse
the whole tribe to corporate action; at such times they would elect a
“nasi,” or ruler, the duration of whose functions ceased with the
emergency which had called him into office.**
Both clans and tribes were designated by the name of some ancestor from
whom they claimed to be descended, and who appears in some cases to have
been a god for whom they had a special devotion; some writers have
believed that this was also the origin of the names given to several of
the tribes, such as Gad, “Good Fortune,” or of the totems of the hyena and
the dog, in Arabic and Hebrew, “Simeon” and “Caleb.” * Gad, Simeon, and
Caleb were severally the ancestors of the families who ranged themselves
under their respective names, and the eponymous heroes of all the tribes
were held to have been brethren, sons of one father, and under the
protection of one God. He was known as the Jahveh with whom Abraham of old
had made a solemn covenant; His dwelling-place was Mount Sinai or Mount
Seîr, and He revealed Himself in the storm;** His voice was as the thunder
“which shaketh the wilderness,” His breath was as “a consuming fire,” and
He was decked with light “as with a garment.” When His anger was aroused,
He withheld the dew and rain from watering the earth; but when His wrath
was appeased, the heavens again poured their fruitful showers upon the
fields.***
He is described as being a “jealous God,” brooking no rival, and “visiting
the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth
generation.” We hear of His having been adored under the figure of a
“calf,” * and of His Spirit inspiring His prophets, as well as of the
anointed stones which were dedicated in His honour. The common ancestor of
the nation was acknowledged to have been Jacob, who, by his wrestling with
God, had obtained the name of Israel; the people were divided
theoretically into as many tribes as he had sons, but the number twelve to
which they were limited does not entirely correspond with all that we know
up to the present time of these “children of Israel.” Some of the tribes
appear never to have had any political existence, as for example that of
Levi,** or they were merged at an early date into some fellow-tribe, as in
the case of Reuben with Gad;*** others, such as Ephraim, Manasseh,
Benjamin, and Judah, apparently did not attain their normal development
until a much later date.
The Jewish chroniclers attempted by various combinations to prove that the
sacred number of tribes was the correct one. At times they included Levi
in the list, in which case Joseph was reckoned as one;* while on other
occasions Levi or Simeon was omitted, when for Joseph would be substituted
his two sons Ephraim and Manasseh.** In addition to this, the tribes were
very unequal in size: Ephraim, Gad, and Manasseh comprised many powerful
and wealthy families; Dan, on the contrary, contained so few, that it was
sometimes reckoned as a mere clan.
The tribal organisation had not reached its full development at the time
of the sojourn in the desert. The tribes of Joseph and Judah, who
subsequently played such important parts, were at that period not held in
any particular estimation; Reuben, on the other hand, exercised a sort of
right of priority over the rest.*
The territory which they occupied soon became insufficient to support
their numbers, and they sought to exchange it for a wider area, such as
was offered by the neighbouring provinces of Southern Syria. Pharaoh at
this time exercised no authority over this region, and they were,
therefore, no longer in fear of opposition from his troops; the latter had
been recalled to Egypt, and it is doubtful even whether he retained
possession of the Shephelah by means of his Zakkala and Philistine
colonies; the Hebrews, at any rate, had nothing to fear from him so long
as they respected Gaza and Ascalon. They began by attempting to possess
themselves of the provinces around Hebron, in the direction of the Dead
Sea, and we read that, before entering them, they sent out spies to
reconnoitre and report on the country.* Its population had undergone
considerable modifications since the Israelites had quitted Goshen. The
Amorites, who had seriously suffered from the incursions of Asiatic
hordes, and had been constantly harassed by the attacks of the Aramæans,
had abandoned the positions they had formerly occupied on the banks of the
Orontes and the Litany, and had moved southwards, driving the Canaanites
before them; their advance was accelerated as the resistance opposed to
their hordes became lessened under the successors of Ramses III., until at
length all opposition was withdrawn. They had possessed themselves of the
regions about the Lake of Genesareth, the mountain district to the south
of Tabor, the middle valley of the Jordan, and, pressing towards the
territory east of that river, had attacked the cities scattered over the
undulating table-land. This district had not been often subjected to
incursions of Egyptian troops, and yet its inhabitants had been more
impressed by Egyptian influence than many others.
Whereas, in the north and west, cuneiform writing was almost entirely
used, attempts had been made here to adapt the hieroglyphs to the native
language.
The only one of their monuments which has been preserved is a rudely
carved bas-relief in black basalt, representing a two-horned Astarte,
before whom stands a king in adoration; the sovereign is Ramses II., and
the inscriptions accompanying the figures contain a religious formula
together with a name borrowed from one of the local dialects.*
The Amorites were everywhere victorious, but our information is confined
to this bare fact; soon after their victory, however, we find the
territory they had invaded divided into two kingdoms: in the north that of
Bashan, which comprised, besides the Haurân, the plain watered by the
Yarrnuk; and to the south that of Heshbon, containing the district lying
around the Arnon, and the Jabbok to the east of the Dead Sea.* They seem
to have made the same rapid progress in the country between the Jordan and
the Mediterranean as elsewhere. They had subdued some of the small
Canaanite states, entered into friendly relation with others, and
penetrated gradually as far south as the borders of Sinai, while we find
them establishing petty kings among the hill-country of Shechem around
Hebron, on the confines of the Negeb, and the Shephelah.** When the Hebrew
tribes ventured to push forward in a direct line northwards, they came
into collision with the advance posts of the Amorite population, and
suffered a severe defeat under the walls of Hormah.*** The check thus
received, however, did not discourage them. As a direct course was closed
to them, they turned to the right, and followed, first the southern and
then the eastern shores of the Red Sea, till they reached the frontier of
Gilead.****
There again they were confronted by the Amorites, but in lesser numbers,
and not so securely entrenched within their fortresses as their
fellow-countrymen in the Negeb, so that the Israelites were able to
overthrow the kingdoms of Heshbon and Bashan.*
Gad received as its inheritance nearly the whole of the territory lying
between the Jabbok and the Yarmuk, in the neighbourhood of the ancient
native sanctuaries of Penuel, Mahanaim, and Succoth, associated with the
memory of Jacob.* Reuben settled in the vicinity, and both tribes remained
there isolated from the rest. From this time forward they took but a
slight interest in the affairs of their brethren: when the latter demanded
their succour, “Gilead abode beyond Jordan,” and “by the watercourses of
Reuben there were great resolves at heart,” but without any consequent
action.** It was not merely due to indifference on their part; their
resources were fully taxed in defending themselves against the Aramæans
and Bedawins, and from the attacks of Moab and Ammon. Gad, continually
threatened, struggled for centuries without being discouraged, but Reuben
lost heart,*** and soon declined in power, till at length he became merely
a name in the memory of his brethren.
Two tribes having been thus provided for, the bulk of the Israelites
sought to cross the Jordan without further delay, and establish themselves
as best they might in the very heart of the Canaanites. The sacred
writings speak of their taking possession of the country by a methodic
campaign, undertaken by command of and under the visible protection of
Jahveh* Moses had led them from Egypt to Kadesh, and from Kadesh to the
land of Gilead; he had seen the promised land from the summit of Mount
Nebo, but he had not entered it, and after his death, Joshua, son of Nun,
became their leader, brought them across Jordan dryshod, not far from its
mouth, and laid siege to Jericho.
The walls of the city fell of themselves at the blowing of the brazen
trumpets,* and its capture entailed that of three neighbouring towns, Aï,
Bethel, and Shechem. Shechem served as a rallying-place for the
conquerors; Joshua took up his residence there, and built on the summit of
Mount Ebal an altar of stone, on which he engraved the principal tenets of
the divine Law.**
The sudden intrusion of a new element naturally alarmed the worshippers of
the surrounding local deities; they at once put a truce to their petty
discords, and united in arms against the strangers. At the instigation of
Adoni-zedeck, King of Jerusalem, the Canaanites collected their forces in
the south; but they were routed not far from Gibeon, and their chiefs
killed or mutilated.* The Amorites in the north, who had assembled round
Jabin, King of Hazor, met with no better success; they were defeated at
the waters of Merom, Hazor was burnt, and Galilee delivered to fire and
sword.**
The country having been thus to a certain extent cleared, Joshua set about
dividing the spoil, and assigned to each tribe his allotted portion of
territory.* Such, in its main outlines, is the account given by the Hebrew
chroniclers; but, if closely examined, it would appear that the Israelites
did not act throughout with that unity of purpose and energy which they
[the Hebrew chroniclers] were pleased to imagine. They did not gain
possession of the land all at once, but established themselves in it
gradually by detachments, some settling at the fords of Jericho,** others
more to the north, and in the central valley of the Jordan as far up as
She-chem.***
The latter at once came into contact with a population having a higher
civilization than themselves, and well equipped for a vigorous resistance;
the walled towns which had defied the veterans of the Pharaohs had not
much to fear from the bands of undisciplined Israelites wandering in their
neighbourhood. Properly speaking, there were no pitched battles between
them, but rather a succession of raids or skirmishes, in which several
citadels would successively fall into the hands of the invaders. Many of
these strongholds, harassed by repeated attacks, would prefer to come to
terms with the enemy, and would cede or sell them some portion of their
territory; others would open their gates freely to the strangers, and
their inhabitants would ally themselves by intermarriage with the Hebrews.
Judah and the remaining descendants of Simeon and Levi established
themselves in the south; Levi comprised but a small number of families,
and made no important settlements; whereas Judah took possession of nearly
the whole of the mountain district separating the Shephelah from the
western shores of the Dead Sea, while Simeon made its abode close by on
the borders of the desert around the wells of Beersheba.*
The descendants of Rachel and her handmaid received as their inheritance
the regions situated more to the centre of the country, the house of
Joseph taking the best domains for its branches of Ephraim and Manasseh.
Ephraim received some of the old Canaanite sanctuaries, such as Ramah,
Bethel, and Shiloh, and it was at the latter spot that they deposited the
ark of the covenant. Manasseh settled to the north of Ephraim, in the
hills and valleys of the Carmel group, and to Benjamin were assigned the
heights which overlook the plain of Jericho. Four of the less important
tribes, Issachar, Asher, Naphtali, and Zebulon, ventured as far north as
the borders of Tyre and Sidon, behind the Phoenician littoral, but were
prevented by the Canaanites and Amorites from spreading over the plain,
and had to confine themselves to the mountains. All the fortresses
commanding the passes of Tabor and Carmel, Megiddo, Taanach, Ibleam,
Jezreel, Endor, and Bethshan remained inviolate, and formed as it were an
impassable barrier-line between the Hebrews of Galilee and their brethren
of Ephraim. The Danites were long before they found a resting-place; they
attempted to insert themselves to the north of Judah, between Ajalon and
Joppa, but were so harassed by the Amorites, that they had to content
themselves with the precarious tenure of a few towns such as Zora,
Shaalbîn, and Eshdol. The foreign peoples of the Shephelah and the
Canaanite cities almost all preserved their autonomy; the Israelites had
no chance against them wherever they had sufficient space to put into the
field large bodies of infantry or to use their iron-bound chariots.
Finding it therefore impossible to overcome them, the tribes were forced
to remain cut off from each other in three isolated groups of unequal
extent which they were powerless to connect: in the centre were Joseph,
Benjamin, and Dan; in the south, Judah, Levi, and Simeon; while Issachar,
Asher, Naphtali, and Zebulon lay to the north.
The period following the occupation of Canaan constituted the heroic age
of the Hebrews. The sacred writings agree in showing that the ties which
bound the twelve tribes together were speedily dissolved, while their
fidelity and obedience to God were relaxed with the growth of the young
generations to whom Moses or Joshua were merely names. The conquerors
“dwelt among the Canaanites: the Hittite, and the Amorite, and the
Perizzite, and the Hivite, and the Jebusite: and they took their daughters
to be their wives, and gave their own daughters to their sons, and served
their gods. And the children of Israel did that which was evil in the
sight of the Lord their God, and served the Baalim and the Asheroth.” *
[Click on image to enlarge to full-size]
When they had once abandoned their ancient faith, political unity was not
long preserved. War broke out between one tribe and another; the stronger
allowed the weaker to be oppressed by the heathen, and were themselves
often powerless to retain their independence. In spite of the thousands of
men among them, all able to bear arms, they fell an easy prey to the first
comer; the Amorites, the Ammonites, the Moabites, and the Philistines, all
oppressed them in turn, and repaid with usury the ills which Joshua had
inflicted on the Canaanites. “Whithersoever they went out, the hand of the
Lord was against them for evil, as the Lord had spoken, and as the Lord
had sworn unto them: and they were sore distressed. And the Lord raised up
judges, which saved them out of the hand of those that spoiled them. And
yet they hearkened not unto their judges, for they went a-whoring after
other gods, and bowed themselves down unto them: they turned aside quickly
out of the way wherein their fathers walked obeying the commandments of
the Lord; but they did not so. And when the Lord raised them up judges,
then the Lord was with the judge, and saved them out of the hand of their
enemies all the days of the judge: for it repented the Lord because of
their groaning by reason of them that oppressed them and vexed them. But
it came to pass, when the judge was dead, that they turned back, and dealt
more corruptly than their fathers, in following other gods to serve them,
and to bow down unto them; they ceased not from their doings, nor from
their stubborn way.” * The history of this period lacks the unity and
precision with which we are at first tempted to credit it.
The Israelites, when transplanted into the promised land, did not
immediately lose the nomadic habits they had acquired in the desert. They
retained the customs and prejudices they had inherited from their fathers,
and for many years treated the peasantry, whose fields they had
devastated, with the same disdain that the Bedawin of our own day, living
in the saddle, lance in hand, shows towards the fellahîn who till the soil
and bend patiently over the plough. The clans, as of old, were impatient
of all regular authority; each tribe tended towards an isolated autonomy,
a state of affairs which merited reprisals from the natives and encouraged
hatred of the intruders, and it was only when the Canaanite oppression
became unendurable that those who suffered most from it united themselves
to make a common effort, and rallied for a moment round the chief who was
ready to lead them. Many of these liberators must have acquired an
ephemeral popularity, and then have sunk into oblivion together with the
two or three generations who had known them; those whose memory remained
green among their kinsmen were known by posterity as the judges of
Israel.*
These judges were not magistrates invested with official powers and
approved by the whole nation, or rulers of a highly organised republic,
chosen directly by God or by those inspired by Him. They were merely local
chiefs, heroes to their own immediate tribe, well known in their
particular surroundings, but often despised by those only at a short
distance from them. Some of them have left only a name behind them, such
as Shamgar, Ibzan, Tola, Elon, and Abdon; indeed, some scholars have
thrown doubts on the personality of a few of them, as, for instance, Jair,
whom they affirm to have personified a Gileadite clan, and Othnîel, who is
said to represent one of the Kenite families associated with the children
of Israel.* Others, again, have come down to us through an atmosphere of
popular tradition, the elements of which modern criticism has tried in
vain to analyse. Of such unsettled and turbulent times we cannot expect an
uninterrupted history:** some salient episodes alone remain, spread over a
period of nearly two centuries, and from these we can gather some idea of
the progress made by the Israelites, and observe their stages of
transition from a cluster of semi-barbarous hordes to a settled nation
ripe for monarchy.
The first of these episodes deals merely with a part, and that the least
important, of the tribes settled in Central Canaan.* The destruction of
the Amorite kingdoms of Heshbon and Bashan had been as profitable to the
kinsmen of the Israelites, Ammon and Moab, as it had been to the
Israelites themselves.
The Moabites had followed in the wake of the Hebrews through all the
surrounding regions of the Dead Sea; they had pushed on from the banks of
the Arnon to those of the Jabbok, and at the time of the Judges were no
longer content with harassing merely Reuben and Gad.
They were a fine race of warlike, well-armed Beda-wins. Jericho had fallen
into their hands, and their King Eglon had successfully scoured the entire
hill-country of Ephraim,* so that those who wished to escape being
pillaged had to safeguard themselves by the payment of an annual tribute.
Ehud the Left-handed concealed under his garments a keen dagger, and
joined himself to the Benjamite deputies who were to carry their dues to
the Moabite sovereign. The money having been paid, the deputies turned
homewards, but when they reached the cromlech of Gilgal,* and were safe
beyond the reach of the enemy, Ehud retraced his steps, and presenting
himself before the palace of Eglon in the attitude of a prophet, announced
that he had a secret errand to the king, who thereupon commanded silence,
and ordered his servants to leave him with the divine messenger in his
summer parlour.
“And Ehud said, I have a message from God unto thee. And he arose out of
his seat. And Ehud put forth his left hand, and took the sword from his
right thigh, and thrust it into his belly: and the haft also went in after
the blade; and the fat closed upon the blade, for he drew not the sword
out of his belly; and it came out behind.” Then Ehud locked the doors and
escaped. “Now when he was gone out, his servants came; and they saw, and,
behold, the doors of the parlour were locked; and they said, Surely he
covereth his feet in his summer chamber.” But by the time they had forced
an entrance, Ehud had reached Gilgal and was in safety. He at once
assembled the clans of Benjamin, occupied the fords of the Jordan,
massacred the bands of Moabites scattered over the plain of Jericho, and
blocked the routes by which the invaders attempted to reach the
hill-country of Ephraim. Almost at the same time the tribes in Galilee had
a narrow escape from a still more formidable enemy.* They had for some
time been under the Amorite yoke, and the sacred writings represent them
at this juncture as oppressed either by Sisera of Harosheth-ha-Goyîm or by
a second Jabin, who was able to bring nine hundred chariots of iron into
the field.** At length the prophetess Deborah of Issachar sent to Barak of
Kadesh a command to assemble his people, together with those of Zebulon,
in the name of the Lord;*** she herself led the contingents of Issachar,
Ephraim, and Machir to meet him at the foot of Tabor, where the united
host is stated to have comprised forty thousand men. Sisera,**** who
commanded the Canaanite force, attacked the Israelite army between Taanach
and Megiddo in that plain of Kishon which had often served as a
battle-field during the Egyptian campaigns.
It would appear that heavy rains had swelled the streams, and thus
prevented the chariots from rendering their expected service in the
engagement; at all events, the Amorites were routed, and Sisera escaped
with the survivors towards Hazor.
The people of Meroz facilitated his retreat, but a Kenite named Jael, the
wife of Heber, traitorously killed him with a blow from a hammer while he
was in the act of drinking.*
This exploit was commemorated in a song, the composition of which is
attributed to Deborah and Barak: “For that the leaders took the lead in
Israel, for that the people offered themselves willingly, bless ye the
Lord. Hear, O ye kings, give ear, O ye princes; I, even I, will sing unto
the Lord; I will sing praise to the Lord, the God of Israel.” * The poet
then dwells on the sufferings of the people, but tells how Deborah and
Barak were raised up, and enumerates the tribes who took part in the
conflict as well as those who turned a deaf ear to the appeal. “Then came
down a remnant of the nobles and the people…. Out of Ephraim came down
they whose root is in Amalek:—out of Machir came down governors,—and
out of Zebulon they that handle the marshal’s staff.—And the princes
of Issachar were with Deborah—as was Issachar so was Barak,—into
the valley they rushed forth at his feet.**—By the watercourses of
Reuben—there were great resolves of heart.—Why satest thou
among the sheepfolds,—to hear the pipings for the flocks?—At
the watercourses of Reuben—there were great searchings of heart—Gilead
abode beyond Jordan:—and Dan, why did he remain in ships?—Asher
sat still at the haven of the sea—and abode by his creeks.—Zebulon
was a people that jeoparded their lives unto the death,—and Naphtali
upon the high places of the field.—The kings came and fought;—then
fought the kings of Canaan.—In Taanach by the waters of Megiddo:—they
took no gain of money.—They fought from heaven,—the stars in
their courses fought against Sisera.—The river of Kishon swept them
away,—that ancient river, the river Kishon.—O my soul, march
on with strength.—Then did the horsehoofs stamp—by reason of
the pransings, the pransings of their strong ones.”
Sisera flies, and the poet follows him in fancy, as if he feared to see
him escape from vengeance. He curses the people of Meroz in passing,
“because they came not to the help of the Lord.” He addresses Jael and
blesses her, describing the manner in which the chief fell at her feet,
and then proceeds to show how, at the very time of Sisera’s death, his
people were awaiting the messenger who should bring the news of his
victory; “through the window she looked forth and cried—the mother
of Sisera cried through the lattice—‘Why is his chariot so long in
coming?—Why tarry the wheels of his chariot?’—Her wise ladies
answered her,—yea, she returned answer to herself,—‘Have they
not found, have they not divided the spoil?—A damsel, two damsels to
every man;—to Sisera a spoil of divers colours,—a spoil of
divers colours of embroidery on both sides, on the necks of the spoil?—So
let all Thine enemies perish, O Lord:—but let them that love Him be
as the sun when he goeth forth in his might.’”
It was the first time, as far as we know, that several of the Israelite
tribes combined together for common action after their sojourn in the
desert of Kadesh-barnea, and the success which followed from their united
efforts ought, one would think, to have encouraged them to maintain such a
union, but it fell out otherwise; the desire for freedom of action and
independence was too strong among them to permit of the continuance of the
coalition.
Manasseh, restricted in its development by the neighbouring Canaanite
tribes, was forced to seek a more congenial neighbourhood to the east of
the Jordan—not close to Gad, in the land of Gilead, but to the north
of the Yarmuk and its northern affluents in the vast region extending to
the mountains of the Haurân. The families of Machir and Jair migrated one
after the other to the east of the Lake of Gennesaret, while that of Nobah
proceeded as far as the brook of Kanah, and thus formed in this direction
the extreme outpost of the children of Israel: these families did not form
themselves into new tribes, for they were mindful of their affiliation to
Manasseh, and continued beyond the river to regard themselves still as his
children.* The prosperity of Ephraim and Manasseh, and the daring nature
of their exploits, could not fail to draw upon them the antagonism and
jealousy of the people on their borders. The Midianites were accustomed
almost every year to pass through the region beyond the Jordan which the
house of Joseph had recently colonised. Assembling in the springtime at
the junction of the Yarmuk with the Jordan, they crossed the latter river,
and, spreading over the plains of Mount Tabor, destroyed the growing
crops, raided the villages, and pushed, sometimes, their skirmishing
parties over hill and dale as far as Gaza.**
A perpetual terror reigned wherever they were accustomed to pass*: no one
dared beat out wheat or barley in the open air, or lead his herds to
pasture far from his home, except under dire necessity; and even on such
occasions the inhabitants would, on the slightest alarm, abandon their
possessions to take refuge in caves or in strongholds on the mountains.1
During one of these incursions two of their sheikhs encountered some men
of noble mien in the vicinity of Tabor, and massacred them without
compunction.** The latter were people of Ophrah,*** brethren of a certain
Jerubbaal (Gideon) who was head of the powerful family of Abiezer.****
Assembling all his people at the call of the trumpet, Jerubbaal chose from
among them three hundred of the strongest, with whom he came down
unexpectedly upon the raiders, put them to flight in the plain of Jezreel,
and followed them beyond the Jordan. Having crossed the river, “faint and
yet pursuing,” he approached the men of Succoth, and asked them for bread
for himself and his three hundred followers. Their fear of the marauders,
however, was so great that the people refused to give him any help, and he
had no better success with the people of Penuel whom he encountered a
little further on. He did not stop to compel them to accede to his wishes,
but swore to inflict an exemplary punishment upon them on his return. The
Midianites continued their retreat, in the mean time, “by the way of them
that dwelt in tents on the east of Nobah and Jogbehah,” but Jerubbaal came
up with them near Karkâr, and discomfited the host. He took vengeance upon
the two peoples who had refused to give him bread, and having thus
fulfilled his vow, he began to question his prisoners, the two chiefs:
“What manner of men were they whom ye slew at Tabor?” “As thou art, so
were they; each one resembled the children of a king.” “And he said, They
were my brethren, the sons of my mother: as the Lord liveth, if ye had
saved them alive, I would not slay you. And he said unto Jether his
firstborn, Up, and slay them. But the youth drew not his sword: for he
feared, because he was yet a youth.” True Bedawins as they were, the
chiefs’ pride revolted at the idea of their being handed over for
execution to a child, and they cried to Jerubbaal: “Rise thou, and fall
upon us: for as the man is, so is his strength.” From this victory rose
the first monarchy among the Israelites. The Midianites, owing to their
marauding habits and the amount of tribute which they were accustomed to
secure for escorting caravans, were possessed of a considerable quantity
of gold, which they lavished on the decoration of their persons: their
chiefs were clad in purple mantles, their warriors were loaded with
necklaces, bracelets, rings, and ear-rings, and their camels also were not
behind their masters in the brilliance of their caparison. The booty which
Gideon secured was, therefore, considerable, and, as we learn from the
narrative, excited the envy of the Ephraimites, who said: “Why hast thou
served us thus, that thou calledst us not, when thou wentest to fight with
Midian?” *
The spoil from the golden ear-rings alone amounted to one thousand seven
hundred shekels, as we learn from the narrative, and this treasure in the
hands of Jerubbaal was not left unemployed, but was made, doubtless, to
contribute something to the prestige he had already acquired: the men of
Israel, whom he had just saved from their foes, expressed their gratitude
by offering the crown to him and his successors. The mode of life of the
Hebrews had been much changed after they had taken up their abode in the
mountains of Canaan. The tent had given place to the house, and, like
their Canaanite neighbours, they had given themselves up to agricultural
pursuits. This change of habits, in bringing about a greater abundance of
the necessaries of life than they had been accustomed to, had begotten
aspirations which threw into relief the inadequacy of the social
organisation, and of the form of government with which they had previously
been content. In the case of a horde of nomads, defeat or exile would be
of little moment. Should they be obliged by a turn in their affairs to
leave their usual haunts, a few days or often a few hours would suffice to
enable them to collect their effects together, and set out without
trouble, and almost without regret, in search of a new and more favoured
home. But with a cultivator of the ground the case would be different: the
farm, clearings, and homestead upon which he had spent such arduous and
continued labour; the olive trees and vines which had supplied him with
oil and wine—everything, in fact, upon which he depended for a
livelihood, or which was dependent upon him, would bind him to the soil,
and expose his property to disasters likely to be as keenly felt as wounds
inflicted on his person. He would feel the need, therefore, of laws to
secure to him in time of peace the quiet possession of his wealth, of an
army to protect it in time of war, and of a ruler to cause, on the one
hand, the laws to be respected, and to become the leader, on the other, of
the military forces. Jerubbaal is said to have, in the first instance,
refused the crown, but everything goes to prove that he afterwards
virtually accepted it. He became, it is true, only a petty king, whose
sovereignty was limited to Manasseh, a part of Ephraim, and a few towns,
such as Succoth and Penuel, beyond the Jordan. The Canaanite city of
Shechem also paid him homage. Like all great chiefs, he had also numerous
wives, and he recognised as the national Deity the God to whom he owed his
victories.
Out of the spoil taken from the Midianites he formed and set up at Ophrah
an ephod, which became, as we learn, “a snare unto him and unto his
house,” but he had also erected under a terebinth tree a stone altar to
Jahveh-Shalom (“Jehovah is peace”).* This sanctuary, with its altar and
ephod, soon acquired great celebrity, and centuries after its foundation
it was the object of many pilgrimages from a distance.
Jerubbaal was the father by his Israelite wives of seventy children, and,
by a Canaanite woman whom he had taken as a concubine at Shechem, of one
son, called Abimelech.**
The succession to the throne would naturally have fallen to one of the
seventy, but before this could be arranged, Abimelech “went to Shechem
unto his mother’s brethren, and spake with them, and with all the family
of the house of his mother’s father, saying, Speak, I pray you, in the
ears of all the men of Shechem, Whether is better for you, that all the
sons of Jerubbaal, which are threescore and ten persons, rule over you, or
that one rule over you? remember also that I am your bone and your flesh.”
This advice was well received; it flattered the vanity of the people to
think that the new king was to be one of themselves; “their hearts
inclined to follow Abimelech; for they said, He is our brother. And they
gave him threescore and ten pieces of silver out of the house of
Baal-berith (the Lord of the Covenant), wherewith Abimelech hired vain and
light fellows, which followed him…. He slew his brethren the sons of
Jerubbaal, being threescore and ten persons, upon one stone.” The massacre
having been effected, “all the men of Shechem assembled themselves
together, and all the house of Millo,* and made Abimelech king, by the oak
of the pillar which was in Shechem.” ** He dwelt at Ophrah, in the
residence, and near the sanctuary, of his father, and from thence governed
the territories constituting the little kingdom of Manasseh, levying
tribute upon the vassal villages, and exacting probably tolls from
caravans passing through his domain.
This condition of things lasted for three years, and then the Shechemites,
who had shown themselves so pleased at the idea of having “one of their
brethren” as sovereign, found it irksome to pay the taxes levied upon them
by him, as if they were in no way related to him. The presence among them
of a certain Zebul, the officer and representative of Abimelech,
restrained them at first from breaking out into rebellion, but they
returned soon to their ancient predatory ways, and demanded ransom for the
travellers they might capture even when the latter were in possession of
the king’s safe conduct. This was not only an insult to their lord, but a
serious blow to his treasury: the merchants who found themselves no longer
protected by his guarantee employed elsewhere the sums which would have
come into his hands. The king concealed his anger, however; he was not
inclined to adopt premature measures, for the place was a strong one, and
defeat would seriously weaken his prestige. The people of Shechem, on
their part, did not risk an open rupture for fear of the consequences.
Gaal, son of Ebed,* a soldier of fortune and of Israelitish blood, arrived
upon the scene, attended by his followers: he managed to gain the
confidence of the people of Shechem, who celebrated under his protection
the feast of the Vintage.
On this occasion their merrymaking was disturbed by the presence among
them of the officer charged with collecting the tithes, and Gaal did not
lose the opportunity of stimulating their ire by his ironical speeches:
“Who is Abimelech, and who is Shechem, that we should serve him? is not he
the son of Jerubbaal? and Zebul his officer? serve ye the men of Hamor the
father of Shechem: but why should we serve him? And would to God this
people were under my hand! then would I remove Abimelech. And he said to
Abimelech, Increase thine army, and come out.” Zebul promptly gave
information of this to his master, and invited him to come by night and
lie in ambush in the vicinity of the town, “that in the morning, as soon
as the sun is up, thou shalt rise early, and set upon the city: and,
behold, when he and the people that is with him come out against thee,
thou mayest do to them as thou shalt find occasion.” It turned out as he
foresaw; the inhabitants of Shechem went out in order to take part in the
gathering in of the vintage, while Gaal posted his men at the entering in
of the gate of the city. As he looked towards the hills he thought he saw
an unusual movement among the trees, and, turning round, said to Zebul,
who was close by, “Behold, there come people down from the tops of the
mountains. And Zebul said unto him, Thou seest the shadow of the mountains
as if they were men.” A moment after he looked in another direction, “and
spake again and said, See, there come people down by the middle of the
land, and one company cometh by the way of the terebinth of the augurs.”
Zebul, seeing the affair turn out so well, threw off the mask, and replied
railingly, “Where is now thy mouth, wherewith thou saidst, Who is
Abimelech, that we should serve him? is not this the people that thou hast
despised? go out, I pray, now, and fight with him.” The King of Manasseh
had no difficulty in defeating his adversary, but arresting the pursuit at
the gates of the city, he withdrew to the neighbouring village of Arumah.*
He trusted that the inhabitants, who had taken no part in the affair,
would believe that his wrath had been appeased by the defeat of Gaal; and
so, in fact, it turned out: they dismissed their unfortunate champion, and
on the morrow returned to their labours as if nothing had occurred.
Abimelech had arranged his Abiezerites in three divisions: one of which
made for the gates, while the other two fell upon the scattered labourers
in the vineyards. Abimelech then fought against the city and took it, but
the chief citizens had taken refuge in “the hold of the house of
El-berith.” “Abimelech gat him up to Mount Zalmon, he and all the people
that were with him; and Abimelech took an axe in his hand, and cut down a
bough from the trees, and took it up, and laid it on his shoulder: and he
said unto the people that were with him, What ye have seen me do, make
haste, and do as I have done. And all the people likewise cut down every
man his bough, and followed Abimelech, and put them to the hold, and set
the hold on fire upon them; so that all the men of the tower of Shechem
died also, about a thousand men and women.”
This summary vengeance did not, however, prevent other rebellions. Thebez
imitated Shechem, and came nigh suffering the same penalty.* The king
besieged the city and took it, and was about to burn with fire the tower
in which all the people of the city had taken refuge, when a woman threw a
millstone down upon his head “and brake his skull.”
The narrative tells us that, feeling himself mortally wounded, he called
his armour-bearer to him, and said, “Draw thy sword, and kill me, that men
say not of me, A woman slew him.” His monarchy ceased with him, and the
ancient chronicler recognises in the catastrophe a just punishment for the
atrocious crime he had committed in slaying his half-brothers, the seventy
children of Jerubbaal.* His fall may be regarded also as the natural issue
of his peculiar position: the resources upon which he relied were
inadequate to secure to him a supremacy in Israel. Manasseh, now deprived
of a chief, and given up to internal dissensions, became still further
enfeebled, and an easy prey to its rivals. The divine writings record in
several places the success attained by the central tribes in their
conflict with their enemies. They describe how a certain Jephthah
distinguished himself in freeing Gilead from the Ammonites.**
But his triumph led to the loss of his daughter, whom he sacrificed in
order to fulfil a vow he had made to Jahveh before the battle.* These
were, however, comparatively unimportant episodes in the general history
of the Hebrew race. Bedawins from the East, sheikhs of the Midianites,
Moabites, and Ammonites—all these marauding peoples of the frontier
whose incursions are put on record—gave them continual trouble, and
rendered their existence so miserable that they were unable to develop
their institutions and attain the permanent freedom after which they
aimed. But their real dangers—the risk of perishing altogether, or
of falling back into a condition of servitude—did not arise from any
of these quarters, but from the Philistines.
By a decree of Pharaoh, a new country had been assigned to the remnants of
each of the maritime peoples: the towns nearest to Egypt, lying between
Raphia and Joppa, were given over to the Philistines, and the forest
region and the coast to the north of the Philistines, as far as the
Phoenician stations of Dor and Carmel,* were appropriated to the Zakkala.
The latter was a military colony, and was chiefly distributed among the
five fortresses which commanded the Shephelah.
Gaza and Ashdod were separated from the Mediterranean by a line of
sand-dunes, and had nothing in the nature of a sheltered port—nothing,
in fact, but a “maiuma,” or open roadstead, with a few dwellings and
storehouses arranged along the beach on which their boats were drawn up.
Ascalon was built on the sea, and its harbour, although well enough suited
for the small craft of the ancients, could not have been entered by the
most insignificant of our modern ships. The Philistines had here their
naval arsenal, where their fleets were fitted out for scouring the
Egyptian waters as a marine police, or for piratical expeditions on their
own account, when the occasion served, along the coasts of Phoenicia.
Ekron and Gath kept watch over the eastern side of the plain at the points
where it was most exposed to the attacks of the people of the hills—the
Canaanites in the first instance, and afterwards the Hebrews. These
foreign warriors soon changed their mode of life in contact with the
indigenous inhabitants; daily intercourse, followed up by marriages with
the daughters of the land, led to the substitution of the language,
manners, and religion of the environing race for those of their mother
country. The Zakkala, who were not numerous, it is true, lost everything,
even to their name, and it was all that the Philistines could do to
preserve their own. At the end of one or two generations, the “colts” of
Palestine could only speak the Canaanite tongue, in which a few words of
the old Hellenic patois still continued to survive. Their gods were
henceforward those of the towns in which they resided, such as Marna and
Dagon and Gaza,* Dagon at Ashdod,** Baalzebub at Ekron,*** and Derketô in
Ascalon;**** and their mode of worship, with its mingled bloody and
obscene rites, followed that of the country.
Two things belonging to their past history they still retained—a
clear remembrance of their far-off origin, and that warlike temperament
which had enabled them to fight their way through many obstacles from the
shores of the Ægean to the frontiers of Egypt. They could recall their
island of Caphtor,* and their neighbours in their new home were accustomed
to bestow upon them the designation of Cretans, of which they themselves
were not a little proud.**
Gaza enjoyed among them a kind of hegemony, alike on account of its
strategic position and its favourable situation for commerce, but this
supremacy was of very precarious character, and brought with it no right
whatever to meddle in the internal affairs of other members of the
confederacy. Each of the latter had a chief of its own, a Seren,* and the
office of this chief was hereditary in one case at least—Gath, for
instance, where there existed a larger Canaanite element than elsewhere,
and was there identified with that of “melek,” ** or king.
The five Sarnîm assembled in council to deliberate upon common interests,
and to offer sacrifices in the name of the Pentapolis. These chiefs were
respectively free to make alliances, or to take the field on their own
account, but in matters of common importance they acted together, and took
their places each at the head of his own contingent.* Their armies were
made up of regiments of skilled archers and of pikemen, to whom were added
a body of charioteers made up of the princes and the nobles of the nation.
The armour for all alike was the coat of scale mail and the helmet of
brass; their weapons consisted of the two-edged battle-axe, the bow, the
lance, and a large and heavy sword of bronze or iron.**
Their war tactics were probably similar to those of the Egyptians, who
were unrivalled in military operations at this period throughout the whole
East. Under able leadership, and in positions favourable for the
operations of their chariots, the Philistines had nothing to fear from the
forces which any of their foes could bring up against them. As to their
maritime history, it is certain that in the earliest period, at least, of
their sojourn in Syria, as well as in that before their capture by Ramses
III., they were successful in sea-fights, but the memory of only one of
their expeditions has come down to us: a squadron of theirs having sailed
forth from Ascalon somewhere towards the end of the XIIth dynasty,*
succeeded in destroying the Sidonian fleet, and pillaging Sidon itself.
But however vigorously they may have plied the occupation of Corsairs at
the outset of their career, there was, it would appear, a rapid falling
off in their maritime prowess; it was on land, and as soldiers, that they
displayed their bravery and gained their fame. Their geographical
position, indeed, on the direct and almost only route for caravans passing
between Asia and Africa, must have contributed to their success. The
number of such caravans was considerable, for although Egypt had ceased to
be a conquering nation on account of her feebleness at home, she was still
one of the great centres of production, and the most important market of
the East. A very great part of her trade with foreign countries was
carried on through the mouths of the Nile, and of this commerce the
Phoenicians had made themselves masters; the remainder followed the
land-routes, and passed continually through the territory of the
Philistines. These people were in possession of the tract of land which
lay between the Mediterranean and the beginning of the southern desert,
forming as it were a narrow passage, into which all the roads leading from
the Nile to the Euphrates necessarily converged. The chief of these routes
was that which crossed Mount Carmel, near Megiddo, and passed up the
valleys of the Litâny and the Orontes. This was met at intervals by other
secondary roads, such as that which came from Damascus by way of Tabor and
the plain of Jezreel, or those which, starting out from the highland of
Gilead, led through the fords of the Lower Jordan to Ekron and Gath
respectively. The Philistines charged themselves, after the example and at
the instigation of the Egyptians, with the maintenance of the great trunk
road which was in their hands, and also with securing safe transit along
it, as far as they could post their troops, for those who confided
themselves to their care. In exchange for these good offices they exacted
the same tolls which had been levied by the Canaanites before them.
In their efforts to put down brigandage, they had been brought into
contact with some of the Hebrew clans after the latter had taken
possession of Canaan. Judah, in its home among the mountains of the Dead
Sea, had become acquainted with the diverse races which were found there,
and consequently there had been frequent intermarriages between the
Hebrews and these peoples. Some critics have argued from this that the
chronicler had this fact in his mind when he assigned a Canaanite wife,
Shuah, to the father of the tribe himself. He relates how Judah, having
separated from his brethren, “turned in to a certain Adullamite, whose
name was Hiram,” and that here he became acquainted with Shuah, by whom he
had three sons. With Tamar, the widow of the eldest of the latter, he had
accidental intercourse, and two children, Perez and Zerah, the ancestors
of numerous families, were born of that union.*
Edomites, Arabs, and Midianites were associated with this semi-Canaanite
stock—for example, Kain, Caleb, Othniel, Kenaz, Shobal, Ephah, and
Jerahmeel, but the Kenites took the first place among them, and played an
important part in the history of the conquest of Canaan. It is related how
one of their subdivisions, of which Caleb was the eponymous hero, had
driven from Hebron the three sons of Anak—Sheshai, Ahiman, and
Talmai—and had then promised his daughter Achsah in marriage to him
who should capture Debir; this turned out to be his youngest brother
Othniel, who captured the city, and at the same time obtained a wife.
Hobab, another Kenite, who is represented to have been the brother-in-law
of Moses, occupied a position to the south of Arad, in Idumsean
territory.* These heterogeneous elements existed alongside each other for
a long time without intermingling; they combined, however, now and again
to act against a common foe, for we know that the people of Judah aided
the tribe of Simeon in the reduction of the city of Zephath;** but they
followed an independent course for the most part, and their isolation
prevented their obtaining, for a lengthened period, any extension of
territory.
They failed, as at first, in their attempts to subjugate the province of
Arad, and in their efforts to capture the fortresses which guarded the
caravan routes between Ashdod and the mouth of the Jordan. It is related,
however, that they overthrew Adoni-bezek, King of the Jebusites, and that
they had dealt with him as he was accustomed to deal with his prisoners.
“And Adoni-bezek said, Threescore and ten kings, having their thumbs and
their great toes cut off, gathered their meat under my table: as I have
done, so God hath requited me.” Although Adoni-bezek had been overthrown,
Jerusalem still remained independent, as did also Gibeon. Beeroth,
Kirjath-Jearim, Ajalon, Gezer, and the cities of the plain, for the
Israelites could not drive out the inhabitants of the valley, because they
had chariots of iron, with which the Hebrew foot-soldiers found it
difficult to deal.* This independent and isolated group was not at first,
however, a subject of anxiety to the masters of the coast, and there is
but a bare reference to the exploits of a certain Shamgar, son of Anath,
who “smote of the Philistines six hundred men with an ox-goad.” **
These cities had also to reckon with Ephraim, and the tribes which had
thrown in their lot with her. Dan had cast his eyes upon the northern
districts of the Shephelah—which were dependent upon Ekron or Gath—and
also upon the semi-Phoenician port of Joppa; but these tribes did not
succeed in taking possession of those districts, although they had
harassed them from time to time by raids in which the children of Israel
did not always come off victorious. One of their chiefs—Samson—had
a great reputation among them for his bravery and bodily strength. But the
details of his real prowess had been forgotten at an early period. The
episodes which have been preserved deal with some of his exploits against
the Philistines, and there is a certain humour in the chronicler’s account
of the weapons which he employed: “with the jawbone of an ass have I
smitten a thousand men;” he burned up their harvest also by letting go
three hundred foxes, with torches attached to their tails, among the
standing corn of the Philistines. Various events in his career are
subsequently narrated; such as his adventure in the house of the harlot at
Gaza, when he carried off the gate of the city and the gate-posts “to the
top of the mountain that is before Hebron.” By Delilah’s treachery he was
finally delivered over to his enemies, who, having put out his eyes,
condemned him to grind in the prison-house. On the occasion of a great
festival in honour of Dagon, he was brought into the temple to amuse his
captors, but while they were making merry at his expense, he took hold of
the two pillars against which he was resting, and bowing “himself with all
his might,” overturned them, “and the house fell upon the lords, and upon
all the people that were therein.” *
The tribe of Dan at length became weary of these unprofitable struggles,
and determined to seek out another and more easily defensible settlement.
They sent out five emissaries, therefore, to look out for a new home.
While these were passing through the mountains they called upon a certain
Michah in the hill-country of Ephraim and lodged there. Here they took
counsel of a Levite whom Michah had made his priest, and, in answer to the
question whether their journey would be prosperous, he told them to “Go in
peace: before the Lord is the way wherein ye go.” Their search turned out
successful, for they discovered near the sources of the Jordan the town of
Laish, whose people, like the Zidonians, dwelt in security, fearing no
trouble. On the report of the emissaries, Dan decided to emigrate: the
warriors set out to the number of six hundred, carried off by the way the
ephod of Micah and the Levite who served before it, and succeeded in
capturing Laish, to which they gave the name of their tribe. “They there
set up for themselves the ephod: and Jonathan, the son of Gershom, the son
of Moses, he and his sons were priests to the tribe of the Danites until
the day of the captivity of the land.” * The tribe of Dan displayed in this
advanced post of peril the bravery it had shown on the frontiers of the
Shephelah, and showed itself the most bellicose of the tribes of Israel.
It bore out well its character—“Dan is a lion’s whelp that leapeth
forth from Bashan” on the Hermon;* “a serpent in the way, an adder in the
path, that biteth the horse’s heels, so that his rider falleth
backward.” ** The new position they had taken up enabled them to protect
Galilee for centuries against the incursions of the Aramaeans.
Their departure, however, left the descendants of Joseph unprotected, with
Benjamin as their only bulwark. Benjamin, like Dan, was one of the tribes
which contained scarcely more than two or three clans, but compensated for
the smallness of their numbers by their energy and tenacity of character:
lying to the south of Ephraim, they had developed into a breed of hardy
adventurers, skilled in handling the bow and sling, accustomed from
childhood to use both hands indifferently, and always ready to set out on
any expedition, not only against the Canaanites, but, if need be, against
their own kinsfolk.* They had consequently aroused the hatred of both
friend and foe, and we read that the remaining tribes at length decreed
their destruction; a massacre ensued, from which six hundred Benjamites
only escaped to continue the race.** Their territory adjoined on the south
that of Jerusalem, the fortress of the Jebusites, and on the west the
powerful confederation of which Gibeon was the head. It comprised some
half-dozen towns—Ramah, Anathoth, Michmash, and Nob, and thus
commanded both sides of the passes leading from the Shephelah into the
valley of the Jordan. The Benjamites were in the habit of descending
suddenly upon merchants who were making their way to or returning from
Gilead, and of robbing them of their wares; sometimes they would make a
raid upon the environs of Ekron and Gath, “like a wolf that ravineth:”
realising the prediction of Jacob, “in the morning he shall devour the
prey, and at even he shall divide the spoil.” ***
The Philistines never failed to make reprisals after each raid, and the
Benjamites were no match for their heavily armed battalions; but the
labyrinth of ravines and narrow gorges into which the Philistines had to
penetrate to meet their enemy was a favourable region for guerilla
warfare, in which they were no match for their opponents. Peace was never
of long duration on this ill-defined borderland, and neither intercourse
between one village and another, alliances, nor intermarriage between the
two peoples had the effect of interrupting hostilities; even when a truce
was made at one locality, the feud would be kept up at other points of
contact. All details of this conflict have been lost, and we merely know
that it terminated in the defeat of the house of Joseph, a number of whom
were enslaved. The ancient sanctuary of Shiloh still continued to be the
sacred town of the Hebrews, as it had been under the Canaanites, and the
people of Ephraim kept there the ark of Jahveh-Sabaoth, “the Lord of
Hosts.” * It was a chest of wood, similar in shape to the shrine which
surmounted the sacred barks of the Egyptian divinities, but instead of a
prophesying statue, it contained two stones on which, according to the
belief of a later age, the law had been engraved.** Yearly festivals were
celebrated before it, and it was consulted as an oracle by all the
Israelites. Eli, the priest to whose care it was at this time consigned,
had earned universal respect by the austerity of his life and by his skill
in interpreting the divine oracles.***
His two sons, on the contrary, took advantage of his extreme age to annoy
those who came up to worship, and they were even accused of improper
behaviour towards the women who “served at the door of” the tabernacle.
They appropriated to themselves a larger portion of the victims than they
were entitled to, extracting from the caldron the meat offerings of the
faithful after the sacrifice was over by means of flesh-hooks. Their
misdeeds were such, that “men abhorred the offering of the Lord,” and yet
the reverence for the ark was so great in the minds of the people, that
they continued to have recourse to it on every occasion of national
danger.* The people of Ephraim and Benjamin having been defeated once
between Eben-ezer and Aphek, bore the ark in state to the battle-field,
that its presence might inspire them with confidence. The Philistines were
alarmed at its advent, and exclaimed, “God is come into the camp. Woe unto
us! Who shall deliver us out of the hand of these mighty gods?… Be
strong, and quit yourselves like men, O ye Philistines, that ye be not
servants unto the Hebrews, as they have been to you.” ** In response to
this appeal, their troops fought so boldly that they once more gained a
victory. “And there ran a man of Benjamin out of the army, and came to
Shiloh the same day with his clothes rent, and with earth upon his head.
And when he came, lo, Eli sat upon his seat by the wayside watching: for
his heart trembled for the ark of God. And when the man came into the
city, and told it, all the city cried out. And when Eli heard the noise of
the crying, he said, What meaneth the noise of this tumult? And the man
hasted, and came and told Eli. Now Eli was ninety and eight years old; and
his eyes were set, that he could not see. And the man said unto Eli, I am
he that came out of the army, and I fled to-day out of the army. And he
said, How went the matter, my son? And he that brought the tidings
answered and said, Israel is fled before the Philistines, and there hath
been also a great slaughter among the people, and thy two sons also,
Hophni and Phineas, are dead, and the ark of God is taken. And it came to
pass, when he made mention of the ark of God, that he fell from off his
seat backward by the side of the gate, and his neck brake, and he died:
for he was an old man, and heavy.” ***
The defeat of Eben-ezer completed, at least for a time, the overthrow of
the tribes of Central Canaan. The Philistines destroyed the sanctuary of
Shiloh, and placed a garrison at Gibeah to keep the Benjamites in
subjection, and to command the route of the Jordan;* it would even appear
that they pushed their advance-posts beyond Carmel in order to keep in
touch with the independent Canaanite cities such as Megiddo, Taanach, and
Bethshan, and to ensure a free use of the various routes leading in the
direction of Damascus, Tyre, and Coele-Syria.**
The Philistine power continued dominant for at least half a century. The
Hebrew chroniclers, scandalised at the prosperity of the heathen, did
their best to abridge the time of the Philistine dominion, and
interspersed it with Israelitish victories. Just at this time, however,
there lived a man who was able to inspire them with fresh hope. He was a
priest of Bamah, Samuel, the son of Elkanah, who had acquired the
reputation of being a just and wise judge in the towns of Bethel, Gilgal,
and Mizpah; “and he judged Israel in all those places, and his return was
to Bamah, for there was his house… and he built there an altar unto the
Lord.” To this man the whole Israelite nation attributed with pride the
deliverance of their race. The sacred writings relate how his mother, the
pious Hannah, had obtained his birth from Jahveh after years of
childlessness, and had forthwith devoted him to the service of God. She
had sent him to Shiloh at the age of three years, and there, clothed in a
linen tunic and in a little robe which his mother made for him herself, he
ministered before God in the presence of Eli. One night it happened, when
the latter was asleep in his place, “and the lamp of God was not yet gone
out, and Samuel was laid down to sleep in the temple of the Lord, where
the ark of God was, that the Lord called Samuel: and he said, Here am I.
And he ran unto Eli, and said, Here am I; for thou calledst me. And he
said, I called thee not; lie down again.” Twice again the voice was heard,
and at length Eli perceived that it was God who had called the child, and
he bade him reply: “Speak, Lord; for Thy servant heareth.” From
thenceforward Jahveh was “with him, and did let none of his words fall to
the ground. And all Israel from Dan even to Beersheba knew that Samuel was
established to be a prophet of the Lord.” Twenty years after the sad death
of his master, Samuel felt that the moment had come to throw off the
Philistine yoke; he exhorted the people to put away their false gods, and
he assembled them at Mizpah to absolve them from their sins. The
Philistines, suspicious of this concourse, which boded ill for the
maintenance of their authority, arose against him. “And when the children
of Israel heard it, they were afraid of the Philistines. And Samuel took a
sucking lamb, and offered it for a whole burnt offering unto the Lord: and
Samuel cried unto the Lord for Israel, and the Lord answered him.” The
Philistines, demoralised by the thunderstorm which ensued, were overcome
on the very spot where they had triumphed over the sons of Eli, and fled
in disorder to their own country. “Then Samuel took a stone, and set it
between Mizpah and Shen, and called the name of it Eben-ezer (the Stone of
Help), saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.” He next attacked the
Tyrians and the Amorites, and won back from them all the territory they
had conquered.* One passage, in which Samuel is not mentioned, tells us
how heavily the Philistine yoke had weighed upon the people, and explains
their long patience by the fact that their enemies had taken away all
their weapons. “Now there was no smith found throughout all the land of
Israel: for the Philistines said, Lest the Hebrews make them swords or
spears;” and whoever needed to buy or repair the most ordinary
agricultural implements was forced to address himself to the Philistine
blacksmiths.** The very extremity of the evil worked its own cure. The
fear of the Midian-ites had already been the occasion of the ephemeral
rule of Jerubbaal and Abimelech; the Philistine tyranny forced first the
tribes of Central and then those of Southern Canaan to unite under the
leadership of one man. In face of so redoubtable an enemy and so grave a
peril a greater effort was required, and the result was proportionate to
their increased activity.
The Manassite rule extended at most over two or three clans, but that of
Saul and David embraced the Israelite nation.* Benjamin at that time
reckoned among its most powerful chiefs a man of ancient and noble family—Saul,
the son of Kish—who possessed extensive flocks and considerable
property, and was noted for his personal beauty, for “there was not among
the children of Israel a goodlier person than he: from his shoulders and
upward he was higher than any of the people.” ** He had already reached
mature manhood, and had several children, the eldest of whom, Jonathan,
was well known as a skilful and brave soldier, while Saul’s reputation was
such that his kinsmen beyond Jordan had recourse to his aid as to a hero
whose presence would secure victory. The Ammonites had laid siege to
Jabesh-Gilead, and the town was on the point of surrendering; Saul came to
their help, forced the enemy to raise the siege, and inflicted such a
severe lesson upon them, that during the whole of his lifetime they did
not again attempt hostilities. He was soon after proclaimed king by the
Benjamites, as Jerubbaal had been raised to authority by the Manassites on
the morrow of his victory.***
We learn from the sacred writings that Samuel’s influence had helped to
bring about these events. It had been shown him by the divine voice that
Saul was to be the chosen ruler, and he had anointed him and set him
before the people as their appointed lord; the scene of this must have
been either Mizpah or Gilgal.*
The accession of a sovereign who possessed the allegiance of all Israel
could not fail to arouse the vigilance of their Philistine oppressors;
Jonathan, however, anticipated their attack and captured Gibeah. The five
kings at once despatched an army to revenge this loss; the main body
occupied Michmash, almost opposite to the stronghold taken from them,
while three bands of soldiers were dispersed over the country, ravaging as
they went, with orders to attack Saul in the rear. The latter had only six
hundred men, with whom he scarcely dared to face so large a force; besides
which, he was separated from the enemy by the Wady Suweinît, here narrowed
almost into a gorge between two precipitous rocks, and through which no
body of troops could penetrate without running the risk of exposing
themselves in single file to the enemy. Jonathan, however, resolved to
attempt a surprise in broad daylight, accompanied only by his
armour-bearer. “There was a rocky crag on the one side, and a rooky crag
on the other side: and the name of the one was Bozez (the Shining), and
the name of the other Seneh (the Acacia). The one crag rose up on the
north in front of Michmash, and the other on the south in front of Geba
(Gribeah).” The two descended the side of the gorge, on the top of which
they were encamped, and prepared openly to climb the opposite side. The
Philistine sentries imagined they were deserters, and said as they
approached: “Behold, the Hebrews come forth out of the holes where they
had hid themselves. And the men of the garrison answered Jonathan and his
armour-bearer, and said, Come up to us, and we will show you a thing. And
Jonathan said unto his armour-bearer, Come up after me: for the Lord hath
delivered them into the hand of Israel. And Jonathan climbed up upon his
hands and upon his feet, and his armour-bearer after him: and they fell
before Jonathan; and his armour-bearer slew them after him. And that first
slaughter that Jonathan and his armour-bearer made, was about twenty men,
within as it were half a furrow’s length in an acre of land.” From
Gribeah, where Saul’s troops were in ignorance of what was passing, the
Benjamite sentinels could distinguish a tumult. Saul guessed that a
surprise had taken place, and marched upon the enemy.
The Philistines were ousted from their position, and pursued hotly beyond
Bethel as far as Ajalon.* This constituted the actual birthday of the
Israelite monarchy.
Gilead, the whole house of Joseph—Ephraim and Manasseh—and
Benjamin formed its nucleus, and were Saul’s strongest supporters. We do
not know how far his influence extended northwards; it probably stopped
short at the neighbourhood of Mount Tabor, and the Galileans either
refused to submit to his authority, or acknowledged it merely in theory.
In the south the clans of Judah and Simeon were not long in rallying round
him, and their neighbours the Kenites, with Caleb and Jerahmeel, soon
followed their example. These southerners, however, appear to have been
somewhat half-hearted in their allegiance to the Benjamite king: it was
not enough to have gained their adhesion—a stronger tie was needed
to attach them to the rest of the nation. Saul endeavoured to get rid of
the line of Canaanite cities which isolated them from Ephraim, but he
failed in the effort, we know not from what cause, and his attempt
produced no other result than to arouse against him the hatred of the
Gibeonite inhabitants.* He did his best to watch over the security of his
new subjects, and protected them against the Amalekites, who were
constantly harassing them.
Their king, Agag, happening to fall into his hands, he killed him, and
destroyed several of their nomad bands, thus inspiring the remainder with
a salutary terror.* Subsequent tradition credited him with victories
gained over all the enemies of Israel—over Moab, Edom, and even the
Aramaeans of Zobah—it endowed him even with the projects and
conquests of David. At any rate, the constant incursions of the
Philistines could not have left him much time for fighting in the north
and east of his domains. Their defeat at Gibeah was by no means a decisive
one, and they quickly recovered from the blow; the conflict with them
lasted to the end of Saul’s lifetime, and during the whole of this period
he never lost an opportunity of increasing his army.**
The monarchy was as yet in a very rudimentary state, without either the
pomp or accessories usually associated with royalty in the ancient
kingdoms of the East. Saul, as King of Israel, led much the same sort of
life as when he was merely a Benjamite chief. He preferred to reside at
Gibeah, in the house of his forefathers, with no further resources than
those yielded by the domain inherited from his ancestors, together with
the spoil taken in battle.***
All that he had, in addition to his former surroundings, were a priesthood
attached to the court, and a small army entirely at his own disposal.
Ahijah, a descendant of Eli, sacrificed for the king when the latter did
not himself officiate; he fulfilled the office of chaplain to him in time
of war, and was the mouthpiece of the divine oracles when these were
consulted as to the propitious moment for attacking the enemy.
The army consisted of a nucleus of Benjamites, recruited from the king’s
clan, with the addition of any adventurers, whether Israelites or
strangers, who were attracted to enlist under a popular military chief.*
It comprised archers, slingers, and bands of heavily armed infantry, after
the fashion of the Phoenician, bearing pikes. We can gam some idea of
their appearance and equipment from the bronze statuettes of an almost
contemporary period, which show us the Phoenician foot-soldiers or the
barbarian mercenaries in the pay of the Phoenician cities: they wear the
horizontally striped loin-cloth of the Syrians, leaving the arms and legs
entirely bare, and the head is protected by a pointed or conical helmet.
Saul possessed none of the iron-bound chariots which always accompanied
the Qanaanite infantry; these heavy vehicles would have been entirely out
of place in the mountain districts, which were the usual field of
operations for the Israelite force.* We are unable to ascertain whether
the king’s soldiers received any regular pay, but we know that the spoil
was divided between the prince and his men, each according to his rank and
in proportion to the valour he had displayed.** In cases of necessity, the
whole of the tribes were assembled, and a selection was made of all those
capable of bearing arms. This militia, composed mainly of a pastoral
peasantry in the prime of life, capable of heroic efforts, was
nevertheless ill-disciplined, liable to sudden panics, and prone to become
disbanded on the slightest reverse.***
Saul had the supreme command of the whole; the members of his own family
served as lieutenants under him, including his son Jonathan, to whom he
owed some of his most brilliant victories, together with his cousin Abner,
the sar-zaba, who led the royal guard.* Among the men of
distinguished valour who had taken service under Saul, he soon singled out
David, son of Jesse, a native of Bethlehem of Judah.** David was the first
Judæan hero, the typical king who served as a model to all subsequent
monarchs. His elevation, like that of Saul, is traced to Samuel. The old
prophet had repaired to Bethlehem ostensibly to offer a sacrifice, and
after examining all the children of Jesse, he chose the youngest, and
“anointed him in the midst of his brethren: and the spirit of the Lord
came mightily upon David.” ***
His introduction at the court of Saul is variously accounted for.
According to one narrative, Saul, being possessed by an evil spirit, fell
at times into a profound melancholy, from which he could be aroused only
by the playing of a harp. On learning that David was skilled in this
instrument, he begged Jesse to send him his son, and the lad soon won the
king’s affection. As often as the illness came upon him, David took his
harp, and “Saul was refreshed, and the evil spirit departed from him.” *
Another account relates that he entered on his soldierly career by killing
with his sling Goliath of Gath,** who had challenged the bravest
Israelites to combat; though elsewhere the death of Goliath is attributed
to Elhanan of Bethlehem,*** one of the “mighty men of valour,” who
specially distinguished himself in the wars against the Philistines. David
had, however, no need to take to himself the brave deeds of others; at
Ephes-dammîm, in company with Eleazar, the son of Dodai, and Shammah, the
son of Agu, he had posted himself in a field of lentils, and the three
warriors had kept the Philistines at bay till their discomfited Israelite
comrades had had time to rally.****
Saul entrusted him with several difficult undertakings, in all of which he
acquitted himself with honour. On his return from one of them, the women
of the villages came out to meet him, singing and dancing to the sound of
timbrels, the refrain of their song being: “Saul hath slain his thousands,
and David his ten thousands.” The king concealed the jealousy which this
simple expression of joy excited within him, but it found vent at the next
outbreak of his illness, and he attempted to kill David with a spear,
though soon after he endeavoured to make amends for his action by giving
him his second daughter Michal in marriage.* This did not prevent the king
from again attempting David’s life, either in a real or simulated fit of
madness; but not being successful, he despatched a body of men to waylay
him. According to one account it was Michal who helped her husband to
escape,** while another attributes the saving of his life to Jonathan.
This prince had already brought about one reconciliation between his
father and David, and had spared no pains to reinstall him in the royal
favour, but his efforts merely aroused the king’s suspicion against
himself. Saul imagined that a conspiracy existed for the purpose of
dethroning him, and of replacing him by his son; Jonathan, knowing that
his life also was threatened, at length renounced the attempt, and David
and his followers withdrew from court.
He was hospitably received by a descendant of Eli,* Ahimelech the priest,
at Nob, and wandered about in the neighbourhood of Adullam, hiding himself
in the wooded valleys of Khereth, in the heart of Judah. He retained the
sympathies of many of the Benjamites, more than one of whom doubted
whether it would not be to their advantage to transfer their allegiance
from their aged king to this more youthful hero.
Saul got news of their defection, and one day when he was sitting, spear
in hand, under the tamarisk at Gibeah, he indignantly upbraided his
servants, and pointed out to them the folly of their plans. “Hear, now, ye
Benjamites; will the son of Jesse give every one of you fields and
vineyards? will he make you all captains of thousands and captains of
hundreds?” Ahimelech was selected as the victim of the king’s anger:
denounced by Doeg, Saul’s steward, he was put to death, and all his
family, with the exception of Abiathar, one of his sons, perished with
him.* As soon as it became known that David held the hill-country, a crowd
of adventurous spirits flocked to place themselves under his leadership,
anticipating, no doubt, that spoil would not be lacking with so brave a
chief, and he soon found himself at the head of a small army, with
Abiathar as priest, and the ephod, rescued from Nob, in his possession.**
The country was favourable for their operations; it was a perfect
labyrinth of deep ravines, communicating with each other by narrow passes
or by paths winding along the edges of precipices. Isolated rocks,
accessible only by rugged ascents, defied assault, while extensive caves
offered a safe hiding-place to those who were familiar with their
windings. One day the little band descended to the rescue of Keilah, which
they succeeded in wresting from the Philistines, but no sooner did they
learn that Saul was on his way to meet them than they took refuge in the
south of Judah, in the neighbourhood of Ziph and Maôn, between the
mountains and the Dead Sea.*
Saul already irritated by his rival’s successes, was still more galled by
being always on the point of capturing him, and yet always seeing him slip
from his grasp. On one afternoon, when the king had retired into a cave
for his siesta, he found himself at the mercy of his adversary; the
latter, however, respected the sleep of his royal master, and contented
himself with cutting a piece off his mantle.* On another occasion David,
in company with Abishai and Ahimelech the Hittite, took a lance and a
pitcher of water from the king’s bedside.** The inhabitants of the country
were not all equally loyal to David’s cause; those of Ziph, whose meagre
resources were taxed to support his followers, plotted to deliver him up
to the king,*** while Nabal of Maôn roughly refused him food. Abigail
atoned for her husband’s churlishness by a speedy submission; she
collected a supply of provisions, and brought it herself to the wanderers.
David was as much disarmed by her tact as by her beauty, and when she was
left a widow he married her. This union insured the support of the
Calebite clan, the most powerful in that part of the country, and policy
as well as gratitude no doubt suggested the alliance.
Skirmishes were not as frequent between the king’s troops and the outlaws
as we might at first be inclined to believe, but if at times there was a
truce to hostilities, they never actually ceased, and the position became
intolerable. Encamped between his kinsman and the Philistines, David found
himself unable to resist either party except by making friends with the
other. An incursion of the Philistines near Maôn saved David from the
king, but when Saul had repulsed it, David had no choice but to throw
himself into the arms of Achish, King of Gath, of whom he craved
permission to settle as his vassal at Ziklag, on condition of David’s
defending the frontier against the Bedawin.*
* 1 Sam. xxvii. The earlier part of this chapter (vers. 1-6) is strictly
historical. Some critics take vers. 8-12 to be of later date, and pretend
that they were inserted to show the cleverness of David, and to deride the
credulity of the King of Gath.
Saul did not deem it advisable to try and dislodge him from this retreat.
Peace having been re-established in Judah, the king turned northward and
occupied the heights which bound the plain of Jezreel to the east; it is
possible that he contemplated pushing further afield, and rallying round
him those northern tribes who had hitherto never acknowledged his
authority. He may, on the other hand, have desired merely to lay hands on
the Syrian highways, and divert to his own profit the resources brought by
the caravans which plied along them. The Philistines, who had been nearly
ruined by the loss of the right to demand toll of these merchants,
assembled the contingents of their five principalities, among them being
the Hebrews of David, who formed the personal guard of Achish. The four
other princes objected to the presence of these strangers in their midst,
and forced Achish to dismiss them. David returned to Ziklag, to find ruin
and desolation everywhere. The Amalekites had taken advantage of the
departure of the Hebrews to revenge themselves once for all for David’s
former raids on them, and they had burnt the town, carrying off the women
and flocks. David at once set out on their track, overtook them just
beyond the torrent of Besor, and rescued from them, not only his own
belongings, but all the booty they had collected by the way in the
southern provinces of Caleb, in Judah, and in the Cherethite plain.
He distributed part of this spoil among those cities of Judah which had
shown hospitality to himself and his men, for instance, to Jattir, Aroer,
Eshtemoa, Hormah, and Hebron.* While he thus kept up friendly relations
with those who might otherwise have been tempted to forget him, Saul was
making his last supreme effort against the Philistines, but only ito meet
with failure. He had been successful in repulsing them as long as he kept
to the mountain districts, where the courage of his troops made up for
their lack of numbers and the inferiority of their arms; but he was
imprudent enough to take up a position on the hillsides of Gilboa, whose
gentle slopes offered no hindrances to the operations of the heavy
Philistine battalions. They attacked the Israelites from the Shunem side,
and swept all before them. Jonathan perished in the conflict, together
with his two brothers, Malchi-shua and Abinadab; Saul, who was wounded by
an arrow, begged his armour-bearer to take his life, but, on his
persistently refusing, the king killed himself with his own sword. The
victorious Philistines cut off his head and those of his sons, and placed
their armour in the temple of Ashtoreth,** while their bodies, thus
despoiled, were hung up outside the walls of Bethshan, whose Canaanite
inhabitants had made common cause with the Philistines against Israel.
The people of Jabesh-Gilead, who had never forgotten how Saul had saved
them from the Ammonites, hearing the news, marched all night, rescued the
mutilated remains, and brought them back to their own town, where they
burned them, and buried the charred bones under a tamarisk, fasting
meanwhile seven days as a sign of mourning.*
David afterwards disinterred these relics, and laid them in the
burying-place of the family of Kish at Zela, in Benjamin. The tragic end
of their king made a profound impression on the people. We read that,
before entering on his last battle, Saul was given over to gloomy
forebodings: he had sought counsel of Jahveh, but God “answered him not,
neither by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets.” The aged Samuel had
passed away at Ramah, and had apparently never seen the king after the
flight of David;* Saul now bethought himself of the prophet in his
despair, and sought to recall him from the tomb to obtain his counsel.
The king had banished from the land all wizards and fortune-tellers, but
his servants brought him word that at Endor there still remained a woman
who could call up the dead. Saul disguised himself, and, accompanied by
two of his retainers, went to find her; he succeeded in overcoming her
fear of punishment, and persuaded her to make the evocation. “Whom shall I
bring up unto thee?”—“Bring up Samuel.”—And when the woman saw
Samuel, she cried with a loud voice, saying, “Why hast thou deceived me,
for thou art Saul?” And the king said unto her, “Be not afraid, for what
sawest thou?”—“I saw gods ascending out of the earth.”—“What
form is he of?”—“An old man cometh up, and he is covered with a
mantle.” Saul immediately recognised Samuel, and prostrated himself with
his face to the ground before him. The prophet, as inflexible after death
as in his lifetime, had no words of comfort for the God-forsaken man who
had troubled his repose. “The Lord hath rent the kingdom out of thine
hand, and given it to thy neighbour, even to David, because thou obeyedst
not the voice of the Lord,… and tomorrow shalt thou and thy sons be with
me. The Lord also shall deliver the host of Israel into the hands of the
Philistines.” *
We learn, also, how David, at Ziklag, on hearing the news of the disaster,
had broken into weeping, and had composed a lament, full of beauty, known
as the “Song of the Bow,” which the people of Judah committed to memory in
their childhood. “Thy glory, O Israel, is slain upon thy high places! How
are the mighty fallen! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets
of Ashkelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the
daughters of the uncircumcised triumph! Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there
be no dew nor rain upon you, neither fields of offerings: for there the
shield of the mighty was vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, not
anointed with oil! From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the
mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, the sword of Saul returned
not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and
in death they were not divided.” *
The Philistines occupied in force the plain of Jezreel and the pass which
leads from it into the lowlands of Bethshan: the Israelites abandoned the
villages which they had occupied in these districts, and the gap between
the Hebrews of the north and those of the centre grew wider. The remnants
of Saul’s army sought shelter on the eastern bank of the Jordan, but found
no leader to reorganise them. The reverse sustained by the Israelitish
champion seemed, moreover, to prove the futility of trying to make a stand
against the invader, and even the useless-ness of the monarchy itself:
why, they might have asked, burthen ourselves with a master, and patiently
bear with his exactions, if, when put to the test, he fails to discharge
the duties for the performance of which he was chosen? And yet the
advantages of a stable form of government had been so manifest during the
reign of Saul, that it never for a moment occurred to his former subjects
to revert to patriarchal institutions: the question which troubled them
was not whether they were to have a king, but rather who was to fill the
post. Saul had left a considerable number of descendants behind him.* From
these, Abner, the ablest of his captains, chose Ishbaal, and set him on
the throne to reign under his guidance.**
Gibeah was too close to the frontier to be a safe residence for a
sovereign whose position was still insecure; Abner therefore installed
Ishbaal at Mahanaim, in the heart of the country of Gilead. The house of
Jacob, including the tribe of Benjamin, acknowledged him as king, but
Judah held aloof. It had adopted the same policy at the beginning of the
previous reign, yet its earlier isolation had not prevented it from
afterwards throwing in its lot with the rest of the nation. But at that
time no leader had come forward from its own ranks who was worthy to be
reckoned among the mighty men of Israel; now, on the contrary, it had on
its frontier a bold and resolute leader of its own race. David lost no
time in stepping into the place of those whose loss he had bewailed. Their
sudden removal, while it left him without a peer among his own people,
exposed him to the suspicion and underground machinations of his foreign
protectors; he therefore quitted them and withdrew to Hebron, where his
fellow-countrymen hastened to proclaim him king.* From that time onwards
the tendency of the Hebrew race was to drift apart into two distinct
bodies; one of them, the house of Joseph, which called itself by the name
of Israel, took up its position in the north, on the banks of the Jordan;
the other, which is described as the house of Judah, in the south, between
the Dead Sea and the Shephelah. Abner endeavoured to suppress the rival
kingdom in its infancy: he brought Ishbaal to Gibeah and proposed to Joab,
who was in command of David’s army, that the conflict should be decided by
the somewhat novel expedient of pitting twelve of the house of Judah
against an equal number of the house of Benjamin. The champions of Judah
are said to have won the day, but the opposing forces did not abide by the
result, and the struggle still continued.**
An intrigue in the harem furnished a solution of the difficulty. Saul had
raised one of his wives of the second rank, named Eizpah, to the post of
favourite. Abner became enamoured of her and took her. This was an insult
to the royal house, and amounted to an act of open usurpation: the wives
of a sovereign could not legally belong to any but his successor, and for
any one to treat them as Abner had treated Rizpah, was equivalent to his
declaring himself the equal, and in a sense the rival, of his master.
Ishbaal keenly resented his minister’s conduct, and openly insulted him.
Abner made terms with David, won the northern tribes, including that of
Benjamin, over to his side, and when what seemed a propitious moment had
arrived, made his way to Hebron with an escort of twenty men. He was
favourably received, and all kinds of promises were made him; but when he
was about to depart again in order to complete the negotiations with the
disaffected elders, Joab, returning from an expedition, led him aside into
a gateway and slew him. David gave him solemn burial, and composed a
lament on the occasion, of which four verses have come down to us: having
thus paid tribute to the virtues of the deceased general, he lost no time
in taking further precautions to secure his power. The unfortunate king
Ishbaal, deserted by every one, was assassinated by two of his officers as
he slept in the heat of the day, and his head was carried to Hebron: David
again poured forth lamentations, and ordered the traitors to be killed.
There was now no obstacle between him and the throne: the elders of the
people met him at Hebron, poured oil upon his head, and anointed him king
over all the provinces which had obeyed the rule of Saul in Gilead—Ephraim
and Benjamin as well as Judah.*
As long as Ishbaal lived, and his dissensions with Judah assured their
supremacy, the Philistines were content to suspend hostilities: the news
of his death, and of the union effected between Israel and Judah, soon
roused them from this state of quiescence. As prince of the house of Caleb
and vassal of the lord of Grath, David had not been an object of any
serious apprehension to them; but in his new character, as master of the
dominions of Saul, David became at once a dangerous rival, whom they must
overthrow without delay, unless they were willing to risk being ere long
overthrown by him. They therefore made an attack on Bethlehem with the
choicest of their forces, and entrenched themselves there, with the
Canaanite city of Jebus as their base, so as to separate Judah entirely
from Benjamin, and cut off the little army quartered round Hebron from the
reinforcements which the central tribes would otherwise have sent to its
aid.* This move was carried out so quickly that David found himself
practically isolated from the rest of his kingdom, and had no course left
open but to shut himself up in Adullam, with his ordinary guard and the
Judsean levies.**
The whole district round about is intersected by a network of winding
streams, and abounds in rocky gorges, where a few determined men could
successfully hold their ground against the onset of a much more numerous
body of troops. The caves afford, as we know, almost impregnable refuges:
David had often hidden himself in them in the days when he fled before
Saul, and now his soldiers profited by the knowledge he possessed of them
to elude the attacks of the Philistines. He began a sort of guerilla
warfare, in the conduct of which he seems to have been without a rival,
and harassed in endless skirmishes his more heavily equipped adversaries.
He did not spare himself, and freely risked his own life; but he was of
small stature and not very powerful, so that his spirit often outran his
strength. On one occasion, when he had advanced too far into the fray and
was weary with striking, he ran great peril of being killed by a gigantic
Philistine: with difficulty Abishai succeeded in rescuing him unharmed
from the dangerous position into which he had ventured, and for the future
he was not allowed to run such risks on the field of battle. On another
occasion, when lying in the cave of Adullam, he began to feel a longing
for the cool waters of Bethlehem, and asked who would go down and fetch
him a draught from the well by the gates of the town. Three of his mighty
men, Joshebbasshebeth, Eleazar, and Shammah, broke through the host of the
Philistines and succeeded in bringing it; but he refused to drink the few
drops they had brought, and poured them out as a libation to Jehovah,
saying, “Shall I drink the blood of men that went in jeopardy of their
lives?” * Duels between the bravest and stoutest champions of the two hosts
were of frequent occurrence. It was in an encounter of this kind that
Elhanan the Bethlehemite [or David] slew the giant Goliath at Gob. At
length David succeeded in breaking his way through the enemies’ lines in
the valley of Kephaîm, thus forcing open the road to the north. Here he
probably fell in with the Israelitish contingent, and, thus reinforced,
was at last in a position to give battle in the open: he was again
successful, and, routing his foes, pursued them from Gibeon to Gezer.**
None of his victories, however, was of a sufficiently decisive character
to bring the struggle to an end: it dragged on year after year, and when
at last it did terminate, there was no question on either side of
submission or of tribute:*** the Hebrews completely regained their
independence, but the Philistines do not seem to have lost any portion of
their domain, and apparently retained possession of all that they had
previously held.
But though they suffered no loss of territory, their position was in
reality much inferior to what it was before. Their control of the plain of
Jezreel was lost to them for ever, and with it the revenue which they had
levied from passing caravans: the Hebrews transferred to themselves this
right of their former masters, and were so much the richer at their
expense. To the five cities this was a more damaging blow than twenty
reverses would have been to Benjamin or Judah. The military spirit had not
died out among the Philistines, and they were still capable of any action
which did not require sustained effort; but lack of resources prevented
them from entering on a campaign of any length, and any chance they may at
one time have had of exercising a dominant influence in the affairs of
Southern Syria had passed away. Under the restraining hand of Egypt they
returned to the rank of a second-rate power, just strong enough to inspire
its neighbours with respect, but too weak to extend its territory by
annexing that of others. Though they might still, at times, give David
trouble by contesting at intervals the possession of some outlying
citadel, or by making an occasional raid on one of the districts which lay
close to the frontier, they were no longer a permanent menace to the
continued existence of his kingdom.
But was Judah strong enough to take their place, and set up in Southern
Syria a sovereign state, around which the whole fighting material of the
country might range itself with confidence? The incidents of the last war
had clearly shown the disadvantages of its isolated position in regard to
the bulk of the nation. The gap between Ekron and the Jordan, which
separated it from Ephraim and Manasseh, had, at all costs, to be filled
up, if a repetition of the manouvre which so nearly cost David his throne
at Adullam were to be avoided. It is true that the Gibeonites and their
allies acknowledged the sovereignty of Ephraim, and formed a sort of
connecting link between the tribes, but it was impossible to rely on their
fidelity so long as they were exposed to the attacks of the Jebusites in
their rear: as soon therefore as David found he had nothing more to fear
from the Philistines, he turned his attention to Jerusalem.* This city
stood on a dry and sterile limestone spur, separated on three sides from
the surrounding hills by two valleys of unequal length. That of the
Kedron, on the east, begins as a simple depression, but gradually becomes
deeper and narrower as it extends towards the south. About a mile and a
half from its commencement it is nothing more than a deep gorge, shut in
by precipitous rocks, which for some days after the winter rains is turned
into the bed of a torrent.**
During the remainder of the year a number of springs, which well up at the
bottom of the valley, furnish an unfailing supply of water to the
inhabitants of Gibon,* Siloam,** and Eôgel.*** The valley widens out again
near En-Kôgel, and affords a channel to the Wady of the Children of
Hinnôm, which bounds the plateau on the west. The intermediate space has
for a long time been nothing more than an undulating plain, at present
covered by the houses of modern Jerusalem. In ancient times it was
traversed by a depression in the ground, since filled up, which ran almost
parallel with the Kedron, and joined it near the Pool of Siloam.**** The
ancient city of the Jebusites stood on the summit of the headland which
rises between these two valleys, the town of Jebus itself being at the
extremity, while the Millo lay farther to the north on the hill of Sion,
behind a ravine which ran down at right angles into the valley of the
Hedron.
An unfortified suburb had gradually grown up on the lower ground to the
west, and was connected by a stairway cut in the rock* with the upper
city. This latter was surrounded by ramparts with turrets, like those of
the Canaanitish citadels which we constantly find depicted on the Egyptian
monuments. Its natural advantages and efficient garrison had so far
enabled it to repel all the attacks of its enemies.
When David appeared with his troops, the inhabitants ridiculed his
presumption, and were good enough to warn him of the hopelessness of his
enterprise: a garrison composed of the halt and the blind, without an
able-bodied man amongst them, would, they declared, be able successfully
to resist him. The king, stung by their mockery, made a promise to his
“mighty men” that the first of them to scale the walls should be made
chief and captain of his host. We often find that impregnable cities owe
their downfall to negligence on the part of their defenders: these
concentrate their whole attention on the few vulnerable points, and give
but scanty care to those which are regarded as inaccessible.* Jerusalem
proved to be no exception to this rule; Joab carried it by a sudden
assault, and received as his reward the best part of the territory which
he had won by his valour.**
In attacking Jerusalem, David’s first idea was probably to rid himself of
one of the more troublesome obstacles which served to separate one-half of
his people from the other; but once he had set foot in the place, he was
not slow to perceive its advantages, and determined to make it his
residence. Hebron had sufficed so long as his power extended over Caleb
and Judah only. Situated as it was in the heart of the mountains, and in
the wealthiest part of the province in which it stood, it seemed the
natural centre to which the Kenites and men of Judah must gravitate, and
the point at which they might most readily be moulded into a nation; it
was, however, too far to the south to offer a convenient rallying-point
for a ruler who wished to bring the Hebrew communities scattered about on
both banks of the Jordan under the sway of a common sceptre. Jerusalem, on
the other hand, was close to the crossing point of the roads which lead
from the Sinaitic desert into Syria, and from the Shephelah to the land of
Gilead; it commanded nearly the whole domain of Israel and the ring of
hostile races by which it was encircled. From this lofty eyrie, David,
with Judah behind him, could either swoop down upon Moab, whose mountains
shut him out from a view of the Dead Sea, or make a sudden descent on the
seaboard, by way of Bethhoron, at the least sign of disturbance among the
Philistines, or could push straight on across Mount Ephraim into Galilee.
Issachar, Naphtali, Asher, Dan, and Zebulun were, perhaps, a little too
far from the seat of government; but they were secondary tribes, incapable
of any independent action, who obeyed without repugnance, but also without
enthusiasm, the soldier-king able to protect them from external foes. The
future master of Israel would be he who maintained his hold on the
posterity of Judah and of Joseph, and David could not hope to find a more
suitable place than Jerusalem from which to watch over the two ruling
houses at one and the same time.
The lower part of the town he gave up to the original inhabitants,* the
upper he filled with Benjamites and men of Judah;** he built or restored a
royal palace on Mount Sion, in which he lived surrounded by his warriors
and his family.*** One thing only was lacking—a temple for his God.
Jerubbaal had had a sanctuary at Ophrah, and Saul had secured the services
of Ahijah the prophet of Shiloh: David was no longer satisfied with the
ephod which had been the channel of many wise counsels during his years of
adversity and his struggles against the Philistines. He longed for some
still more sacred object with which to identify the fortunes of his
people, and by which he might raise the newly gained prestige of his
capital. It so happened that the ark of the Lord, the ancient safeguard of
Ephraim, had been lying since the battle of Eben-ezer not far away,
without a fixed abode or regular worshippers.****
The reason why it had not brought victory on that occasion, was that God’s
anger had been stirred at the misdeeds committed in His name by the sons
of Eli, and desired to punish His people; true, it had been preserved from
profanation, and the miracles which took place in its neighbourhood proved
that it was still the seat of a supernatural power.
At first the Philistines had, according to their custom, shut it up in the
temple of Dagon at Ashdod. On the morrow when the priests entered the
sanctuary, they found the statue of their god prostrate in front of it,
his fish-like body overthrown, and his head and hands scattered on the
floor;* at the same time a plague of malignant tumours broke out among the
people, and thousands of mice overran their houses. The inhabitants of
Ashdod made haste to transfer it on to Ekron: it thus went the round of
the five cities, its arrival being in each case accompanied by the same
disasters. The soothsayers, being consulted at the end of seven months,
ordered that solemn sacrifices should be offered up, and the ark restored
to its rightful worshippers, accompanied by expiatory offerings of five
golden mice and five golden tumours, one for each of the five repentant
cities.**
The ark was placed on a new cart, and two milch cows with their calves
drew it, lowing all the way, without guidance from any man, to the field
of a certain Joshua at Bethshemesh. The inhabitants welcomed it with great
joy, but their curiosity overcame their reverence, and they looked within
the shrine. Jehovah, being angered thereat, smote seventy men of them, and
the warriors made haste to bring the ark to Kirjath-jearim, where it
remained for a long time, in the house of Abinadab on the hill, under
charge of his son Eleazar.* Kirjath-jearim is only about two leagues from
Jerusalem. David himself went thither, and setting “the ark of God upon a
new cart,” brought it away.* Two attendants, called Uzzah and Ahio, drove
the new cart, “and David and all Israel played before God with all their
might: even with songs, and with harps, and with psalteries, and with
timbrels, and with cymbals, and with trumpets.” An accident leading to
serious consequences brought the procession to a standstill; the oxen
stumbled, and their sacred burden threatened to fall: Uzzah, putting forth
his hand to hold the ark, was smitten by the Lord, “and there he died
before the Lord.” David was disturbed at this, feeling some insecurity in
dealing with a Deity who had thus seemed to punish one of His worshippers
for a well-meant and respectful act.**
He “was afraid of the Lord that day,” and “would not remove the ark” to
Jerusalem, but left it for three months in the house of a Philistine,
Obed-Edom of Gath; but finding that its host, instead of experiencing any
evil, was blessed by the Lord, he carried out his original intention, and
brought the ark to Jerusalem. “David, girded with a linen ephod, danced
with all his might before the Lord,” and “all the house of Israel brought
up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet.”
When the ark had been placed in the tent that David had prepared for it,
he offered up burnt offerings and peace offerings, and at the end of the
festival there were dealt out to the people gifts of bread, cakes, and
wine (or flesh). There is inserted in the narrative* an account of the
conduct of Michal his wife, who looking out of the window and seeing the
king dancing and playing, despised him in her heart, and when David
returned to his house, congratulated him ironically—“How glorious
was the King of Israel to-day, who uncovered himself in the eyes of the
handmaids of his servants!”
David said in reply that he would rather be held in honour by the
handmaids of whom she had spoken than avoid the acts which covered him
with ridicule in her eyes; and the chronicler adds that “Michal the
daughter of Saul had no child unto the day of her death.” *
The tent and the ark were assigned at this time to the care of two priests—Zadok,
son of Ahitub, and Abiathar, son of Ahimelech, who was a descendant of
Eli, and had never quitted David throughout his adventurous career.* It is
probable, too, that the ephod had not disappeared, and that it had its
place in the sanctuary; but it may have gradually fallen into neglect, and
may have ceased to be the vehicle of oracular responses as in earlier
years. The king was accustomed on important occasions to take part in the
sacred ceremonies, after the example of contemporary monarchs, and he had
beside him at this time a priest of standing to guide him in the religious
rites, and to fulfil for him duties similar to those which the chief
reader rendered to Pharaoh. The only one of these priests of David whose
name has come down to us was Ira the Jethrite, who accompanied his master
in his campaigns, and would seem to have been a soldier also, and one of
“the thirty.” These priestly officials seem, however, to have played but a
subordinate part, as history is almost silent about their acts.** While
David owed everything to the sword and trusted in it, he recognised at the
same time that he had obtained his crown from Jahveh; just as the
sovereigns of Thebes and Nineveh saw in Amon and Assur the source of their
own royal authority.
He consulted the Lord directly when he wished for counsel, and accepted
the issue as a test whether his interpretation of the Divine will was
correct or erroneous. When once he had realised, at the time of the
capture of Jerusalem, that God had chosen him to be the champion of
Israel, he spared no labour to accomplish the task which the Divine favour
had assigned to him. He attacked one after the other the peoples who had
encroached upon his domain, Moab being the first to feel the force of his
arm. He extended his possessions at the expense of Gilead, and the fertile
provinces opposite Jericho fell to his sword. These territories were in
dangerous proximity to Jerusalem, and David doubtless realised the peril
of their independence. The struggle for their possession must have
continued for some time, but the details are not given, and we have only
the record of a few incidental exploits: we know, for instance, that the
captain of David’s guard, Benaiah, slew two Moabite notables in a battle.*
Moabite captives were treated with all the severity sanctioned by the laws
of war. They were laid on the ground in a line, and two-thirds of the
length of the row being measured off, all within it were pitilessly
massacred, the rest having their lives spared. Moab acknowledged its
defeat, and agreed to pay tribute: it had suffered so much that it
required several generations to recover.**
Gilead had become detached from David’s domain on the south, while the
Ammonites were pressing it on the east, and the Ararnæans making
encroachments upon its pasture-lands on the north. Nahash, King of the
Ammonites, being dead, David, who had received help from him in his
struggle with Saul, sent messengers to offer congratulations to his son
Hanun on his accession. Hanun, supposing the messengers to be spies sent
to examine the defences of the city, “shaved off one-half of their beards,
and cut off their garments in the middle, even to their buttocks, and sent
them away.” This was the signal for war. The Ammonites, foreseeing that
David would endeavour to take a terrible vengeance for this insult to his
people, came to an understanding with their neighbours. The overthrow of
the Amorite chiefs had favoured the expansion of the Aramæans towards the
south. They had invaded all that region hitherto unconquered by Israel in
the valley of the Litany to the east of Jordan, and some half-dozen of
their petty states had appropriated among them the greater part of the
territories which were described in the sacred record as having belonged
previously to Jabin of Hazor and the kings of Bashan. The strongest of
these principalities—that which occupied the position of Qodshû in
the Bekâa, and had Zoba as its capital—was at this time under the
rule of Hadadezer, son of Behob. This warrior had conquered Damascus,
Maacah, and Geshur, was threatening the Canaanite town of Hamath, and was
preparing to set out to the Euphrates when the Ammonites sought his help
and protection. He came immediately to their succour. Joab, who was in
command of David’s army, left a portion of his troops at Babbath under his
brother Abishaî, and with the rest set out against the Syrians. He
overthrew them, and returned immediately afterwards. The Ammonites,
hearing of his victory, disbanded their army; but Joab had suffered such
serious losses, that he judged it wise to defer his attack upon them until
Zoba should be captured. David then took the field himself, crossed the
Jordan with all his reserves, attacked the Syrians at Helam, put them to
flight, killing Shobach, their general, and captured Damascus. Hadadezer
[Hadarezer] “made peace with Israel,” and Tou or Toi, the King of Hamath,
whom this victory had delivered, sent presents to David. This was the work
of a single campaign. The next year Joab invested Kabbath, and when it was
about to surrender he called the king to his camp, and conceded to him the
honour of receiving the submission of the city in person. The Ammonites
were treated with as much severity as their kinsmen of Moab. David “put
them under saws and harrows of iron, and under axes of iron, and made them
pass through the brick-kiln.” *
This success brought others in its train. The Idumæans had taken advantage
of the employment of the Israelite army against the Aramæans to make raids
into Judah. Joab and Abishaî, despatched in haste to check them, met them
in the Valley of Salt to the south of the Dead Sea, and gave them battle:
their king perished in the fight, and his son Hadad with some of his
followers took flight into Egypt. Joab put to the sword all the
able-bodied combatants, and established garrisons at Petra, Elath, and
Eziongeber* on the Red Sea. David dedicated the spoils to the Lord, “who
gave victory to David wherever he went.”
Southern Syria had found its master: were the Hebrews going to pursue
their success, and undertake in the central and northern regions a work of
conquest which had baffled the efforts of all their predecessors—Canaanites,
Amorites, and Hittites? The Assyrians, thrown back on the Tigris, were at
this time leading a sort of vegetative existence in obscurity; and, as for
Egypt, it would seem to have forgotten that it ever had possessions in
Asia. There was, therefore, nothing to be feared from foreign intervention
should the Hebrew be inclined to weld into a single state the nations
lying between the Euphrates and the Red Sea.
Unfortunately, the Israelites had not the necessary characteristics of a
conquering people. Their history from the time of their entry into Canaan
showed, it is true, that they were by no means incapable of enthusiasm and
solidarity: a leader with the needful energy and good fortune to inspire
them with confidence could rouse them from their self-satisfied indolence,
and band them together for a great effort. But such concentration of
purpose was ephemeral in its nature, and disappeared with the chief who
had brought it about. In his absence, or when the danger he had pointed
out was no longer imminent, they fell back instinctively into their usual
state of apathy and disorganisation. Their nomadic temperament, which two
centuries of a sedentary existence had not seriously modified, disposed
them to give way to tribal quarrels, to keep up hereditary vendettas, to
break out into sudden tumults, or to make pillaging expeditions into their
neighbours’ territories. Long wars, requiring the maintenance of a
permanent army, the continual levying of troops and taxes, and a prolonged
effort to keep what they had acquired, were repugnant to them. The kingdom
which David had founded owed its permanence to the strong will of its
originator, and its increase or even its maintenance depended upon the
absence of any internal disturbance or court intrigue, to counteract which
might make too serious a drain upon his energy. David had survived his
last victory sufficiently long to witness around him the evolution of
plots, and the multiplication of the usual miseries which sadden, in the
East, the last years of a long reign. It was a matter of custom as well as
policy that an exaltation in the position of a ruler should be accompanied
by a proportional increase in the number of his retinue and his wives.
David was no exception to this custom: to the two wives, Abigail and
Ahinoam, which he had while he was in exile at Ziklag, he now added Maacah
the Aramaean, daughter of the King of Geshur, Haggith, Abital, Bglah, and
several others.* During the siege of Babbath-Ammon he also committed
adultery with Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and, placing her
husband in the forefront of the battle, brought about his death. Rebuked
by the prophet Nathan for this crime, he expressed his penitence, but he
continued at the same time to keep Bathsheba, by whom he had several
children.** There was considerable rivalry among the progeny of these
different unions, as the right of succession would appear not to have been
definitely settled. Of the family of Saul, moreover, there were still
several members in existence—the son which he had by Eizpah, the
children of his daughter Merab, Merib-baal, the lame offspring of
Jonathan,*** and Shimei****—all of whom had partisans among the
tribes, and whose pretensions might be pressed unexpectedly at a critical
moment.
The eldest son of Ahinoam, Amnon, whose priority in age seemed likely to
secure for him the crown, had fallen in love with one of his half-sisters
named Tamar, the daughter of Maacah, and, instead of demanding her in
marriage, procured her attendance on him by a feigned illness, and forced
her to accede to his desires. His love was thereupon converted immediately
into hate, and, instead of marrying her, he had her expelled from his
house by his servants. With rent garments and ashes on her head, she fled
to her full-brother Absalom. David was very wroth, but he loved his
firstborn, and could not permit himself to punish him. Absalom kept his
anger to himself, but when two years had elapsed he invited Amnon to a
banquet, killed him, and fled to his grandfather Talmai, King of Geshur.*
His anger was now turned against the king for not having taken up the
cause of his sister, and he began to meditate his dethronement. Having
been recalled to Jerusalem at the instigation of Joab, “Absalom prepared
him chariots and horses, and fifty men to run before him,” thus affecting
the outward forms of royalty. Judah, dissatisfied at the favour shown by
David to the other tribes, soon came to recognise Absalom as their chief,
and some of the most intimate counsellors of the aged king began secretly
to take his part. When Absalom deemed things safe for action, he betook
himself to Hebron, under the pretence of a vow which he had made daring
his sojourn at Geshur. All Judah rallied around him, and the excitement at
Jerusalem was so great that David judged it prudent to retire, with his
Philistine and Cherethite guards, to the other side of the Jordan.
Absalom, in the mean while, took up his abode in Jerusalem, where, having
received the tacit adherence of the family of Saul and of a number of the
notables, he made himself king. To show that the rupture between him and
David was complete, he had tents erected on the top of the house, and
there, in view of the people, took possession of his father’s harem.
Success would have been assured to him if he had promptly sent troops
after the fugitives, but while he was spending his time in inactivity and
feasting, David collected together those who were faithful to him, and put
them under the command of Joab and Abishai. The king’s veterans were more
than a match for the undisciplined rabble which opposed them, and in the
action which followed at Mahanaim Absalom was defeated: in his flight
through the forest of Ephraim he was caught in a tree, and before he could
disentangle himself was pierced through the heart by Joab.
David, we read, wished his people to have mercy on his son, and he wept
bitterly. He spared on this occasion the family of Saul, pardoned the
tribe of Judah, and went back triumphantly into Jerusalem, which a few
days before had taken part in his humiliation. The tribes of the house of
Joseph had taken no side in the quarrel. They were ignorant alike of the
motives which set the tribe of Judah against their own hero, and of their
reasons for the zeal with which they again established him on the throne.
They sent delegates to inquire about this, who reproached Judah for acting
without their cognisance: “We have ten parts in the king, and we have also
more right in David than ye: why then did ye despise us, that our advice
should not be first had in bringing back our king?” Judah answered with
yet fiercer words; then Sheba, a chief of the Benjamites, losing patience,
blew a trumpet, and went off crying: “We have no portion in David, neither
have we inheritance in the son of Jesse: every man to his tents, O
Israel.” If these words had produced an echo among the central and
northern tribes, a schism would have been inevitable: some approved of
them, while others took no action, and since Judah showed no disposition
to put its military forces into movement, the king had once again to trust
to Joab and the Philistine guards to repress the sedition. Their
appearance on the scene disconcerted the rebels, and Sheba retreated to
the northern frontier without offering battle. Perhaps he reckoned on the
support of the Aramæans. He took shelter in the small stronghold of Abel
of Bethmaacah, where he defended himself for some time; but just when the
place was on the point of yielding, the inhabitants cut off Sheba’s head,
and threw it to Joab from the wall. His death brought the crisis to an
end, and peace reigned in Israel. Intrigues, however, began again more
persistently than ever over the inheritance which the two slain princes
had failed to obtain. The eldest son of the king was now Adonijah, son of
Haggith, but Bathsheba exercised an undisputed sway over her husband, and
had prepared him to recognise in Solomon her son the heir to the throne.
She had secured, too, as his adherents several persons of influence,
including Zadok, the prophet Nathan, and Benaiah, the captain of the
foreign guard.
Adonijah had on his side Abiathar the priest, Joab, and the people of
Jerusalem, who had been captivated by his beauty and his regal display. In
the midst of these rivalries the king was daily becoming weaker: he was
now very old, and although he was covered with wrappings he could not
maintain his animal heat. A young girl was sought out for him to give him
the needful warmth. Abishag, a Shunammite, was secured for the purpose,
but her beauty inspired Adonijah with such a violent passion that he
decided to bring matters to a crisis. He invited his brethren, with the
exception of Solomon, to a banquet in the gardens which belonged to him in
the south of Jerusalem, near the well of Eôgel. All his partisans were
present, and, inspired by the good cheer, began to cry, “God save King
Adonijah!” When Nathan informed Bathsheba of what was going on, she went
in unto the king, who was being attended on by Abishag, complained to him
of the weakness he was showing in regard to his eldest son, and besought
him to designate his heir officially. He collected together the soldiers,
and charged them to take the young man Solomon with royal pomp from the
hill of Sion to the source of the Gibôn: Nathan anointed his forehead with
the sacred oil, and in the sight of all the people brought him to the
palace, mounted on his father’s mule. The blare of the coronation trumpets
resounded in the ears of the conspirators, quickly followed by the tidings
that Solomon had been hailed king over the whole of Israel: they fled on
all sides, Adonijah taking refuge at the horns of the altar. David did not
long survive this event: shortly before his death he advised Solomon to
rid himself of all those who had opposed his accession to the throne.
Solomon did not hesitate to follow this counsel, and the beginning of his
reign was marked by a series of bloodthirsty executions. Adonijah was the
first to suffer. He had been unwise enough to ask the hand of Abishag in
marriage: this request was regarded as indicative of a hidden intention to
rebel, and furnished an excuse for his assassination. Abiathar, at whose
instigation Adonijah had acted, owed his escape from a similar fate to his
priestly character and past services: he was banished to his estate at
Anathoth, and Zadok became high priest in his stead. Joab, on learning the
fate of his accomplice, felt that he was a lost man, and vainly sought
sanctuary near the ark of the Lord; but Benaiah slew him there, and soon
after, Shimei, the last survivor of the race of Saul, was put to death on
some transparent pretext. This was the last act of the tragedy:
henceforward Solomon, freed from all those who bore him malice, was able
to devote his whole attention to the cares of government.*
The change of rulers had led, as usual, to insurrections among the
tributary races: Damascus had revolted before the death of David, and had
not been recovered. Hadad returned from Egypt, and having gained adherents
in certain parts of Edom, resisted all attempts made to dislodge him.*
As a soldier, Solomon was neither skilful nor fortunate: he even failed to
retain what his father had won for him. Though he continued to increase
his army, it was more with a view to consolidating his power over the
Bnê-Israel than for any aggressive action outside his borders. On the
other hand, he showed himself an excellent administrator, and did his
best, by various measures of general utility, to draw closer the ties
which bound the tribes to him and to each other. He repaired the citadels
with such means as he had at his disposal. He rebuilt the fortifications
of Megiddo, thus securing the control of the network of roads which
traversed Southern Syria. He remodelled the fortifications of Tamar, the
two Bethhorons, Baâlath, Hazor, and of many other towns which defended his
frontiers. Some of them he garrisoned with foot-soldiers, others with
horsemen and chariots. By thus distributing his military forces over the
whole country, he achieved a twofold object;* he provided, on the one
hand, additional security from foreign invasion, and on the other
diminished the risk of internal revolt.
The remnants of the old aboriginal clans, which had hitherto managed to
preserve their independence, mainly owing to the dissensions among the
Israelites, were at last absorbed into the tribes in whose territory they
had settled. A few still held out, and only gave way after long and
stubborn resistance: before he could triumph over Gezer, Solomon was
forced to humble himself before the Egyptian Pharaoh. He paid homage to
him, asked the hand of his daughter in marriage, and having obtained it,
persuaded him to come to his assistance: the Egyptian engineers placed
their skill at the service of the besiegers and soon brought the
recalcitrant city to reason, handing it over to Solomon in payment for his
submission.* The Canaanites were obliged to submit to the poll-tax and the
corvée: the men of the league of Gibeon were made hewers of wood
and drawers of water for the house of the Lord.** The Hebrews themselves
bore their share in the expenses of the State, and though less heavily
taxed than the Canaanites, were, nevertheless, compelled to contribute
considerable sums; Judah alone was exempt, probably because, being the
private domain of the sovereign, its revenues were already included in the
royal exchequer.***
In order to facilitate the collection of the taxes, Solomon divided the
kingdom into twelve districts, each of which was placed in charge of a
collector; these regions did not coincide with the existing tribal
boundaries, but the extent of each was determined by the wealth of the
lands contained within it. While one district included the whole of Mount
Ephraim, another was limited to the stronghold of Mahanaim and its
suburbs. Mahanaim was at one time the capital of Israel, and had played an
important part in the life of David: it held the key to the regions beyond
Jordan, and its ruler was a person of such influence that it was not
considered prudent to leave him too well provided with funds. By thus
obliterating the old tribal boundaries, Solomon doubtless hoped to
destroy, or at any rate greatly weaken, that clannish spirit which showed
itself with such alarming violence at the time of the revolt of Sheba, and
to weld into a single homogeneous mass the various Hebrew and Canaanitish
elements of which the people of Israel were composed.*
Each of these provinces was obliged, during one month in each year, to
provide for the wants of “the king and his household,” or, in other words,
the requirements of the central government. A large part of these
contributions went to supply the king’s table; the daily consumption at
the court was—thirty measures of fine flour, sixty measures of meal,
ten fat oxen, twenty oxen out of the pastures, a hundred sheep, besides
all kinds of game and fatted fowl: nor need we be surprised at these
figures, for in a country where, and at a time when money was unknown, the
king was obliged to supply food to all his dependents, the greater part of
their emoluments consisting of these payments in kind. The tax-collectors
had also to provide fodder for the horses reserved for military purposes:
there were forty thousand of these, and twelve thousand charioteers, and
barley and straw had to be forthcoming either in Jerusalem itself or in
one or other of the garrison towns amongst which they were distributed.*
The levying of tolls on caravans passing through the country completed the
king’s fiscal operations which were based on the systems prevailing in
neighbouring States, especially that of Egypt.**
Solomon, like other Oriental sovereigns, reserved to himself the monopoly
of certain imported articles, such as yarn, chariots, and horses. Egyptian
yarn, perhaps the finest produced in ancient times, was in great request
among the dyers and embroiderers of Asia. Chariots, at once strong and
light, were important articles of commerce at a time when their use in
warfare was universal. As for horses, the cities of the Delta and Middle
Egypt possessed a celebrated strain of stallions, from which the Syrian
princes were accustomed to obtain their war-steeds.* Solomon decreed that
for the future he was to be the sole intermediary between the Asiatics and
the foreign countries supplying their requirements. His agents went down
at regular intervals to the banks of the Nile to lay in stock; the horses
and chariots, by the time they reached Jerusalem, cost him at the rate of
six hundred silver shekels for each chariot, and one hundred and fifty
shekels for each horse, but he sold them again at a profit to the Aramæan
and Hittite princes. In return he purchased from them Cilician stallions,
probably to sell again to the Egyptians, whose relaxing climate
necessitated a frequent introduction of new blood into their stables.** By
these and other methods of which we know nothing the yearly revenue of the
kingdom was largely increased: and though it only reached a total which
may seem insignificant in comparison with the enormous quantities of the
precious metals which passed through the hands of the Pharaohs of that
time, yet it must have seemed boundless wealth in the eyes of the
shepherds and husbandmen who formed the bulk of the Hebrew nation.
In thus developing his resources and turning them to good account, Solomon
derived great assistance from the Phoenicians of Tyre and Sidon, a race
whose services were always at the disposal of the masters of Southern
Syria. The continued success of the Hellenic colonists on the eastern
shores of the Mediterranean had compelled the Phoenicians to seek with
redoubled boldness and activity in the Western Mediterranean some sort of
compensation for the injury which their trade had thus suffered. They
increased and consolidated their dealings with Sicily, Africa, and Spain,
and established themselves throughout the whole of that misty region which
extended beyond the straits of Gibraltar on the European side, from the
mouth of the Guadalete to that of the Guadiana. This was the famous
Tarshish—the Oriental El Dorado. Here they had founded a number of
new towns, the most flourishing of which, Gadîr,* rose not far from the
mouths of the Betis, on a small islet separated from the mainland by a
narrow arm of the sea. In this city they constructed a temple to Melkarth,
arsenals, warehouses, and shipbuilding yards: it was the Tyre of the west,
and its merchant-vessels sailed to the south and to the north to trade
with the savage races of the African and European seaboard. On the coast
of Morocco they built Lixos, a town almost as large as Gadîr, and beyond
Lixos, thirty days’ sail southwards, a whole host of depots, reckoned
later on at three hundred.
By exploiting the materials to be obtained from these lands, such as gold,
silver, tin, lead, and copper, Tyre and Sidon were soon able to make good
the losses they had suffered from Greek privateersmen and marauding
Philistines. Towards the close of the reign of Saul over Israel, a certain
king Abîbaal had arisen in Tyre, and was succeeded by his son Hiram, at
the very moment when David was engaged in bringing the whole of Israel
into subjection. Hiram, guided by instinct or by tradition, at once
adopted a policy towards the rising dynasty which his ancestors had always
found successful in similar cases. He made friendly overtures to the
Hebrews, and constituted himself their broker and general provider: when
David was in want of wood for the house he was building at Jerusalem,
Hiram let him have the necessary quantity, and hired out to him workmen
and artists at a reasonable wage, to help him in turning his materials to
good account.*
The accession of Solomon was a piece of good luck for him. The new king,
born in the purple, did not share the simple and somewhat rustic tastes of
his father. He wanted palaces and gardens and a temple, which might rival,
even if only in a small way, the palaces and temples of Egypt and Chaldæa,
of which he had heard such glowing accounts: Hiram undertook to procure
these things for him at a moderate cost, and it was doubtless his
influence which led to those voyages to the countries which produced
precious metals, perfumes, rare animals, costly woods, and all those
foreign knicknacks with which Eastern monarchs of all ages loved to
surround themselves. The Phoenician sailors were well acquainted with the
bearings of Puanît, most of them having heard of this country when in
Egypt, a few perhaps having gone thither under the direction and by the
orders of Pharaoh: and Hiram took advantage of the access which the
Hebrews had gained to the shores of the Red Sea by the annexation of Edom,
to establish relations with these outlying districts without having to
pass the Egyptian customs. He lent to Solomon shipwrights and sailors, who
helped him to fit out a fleet at Eziôn-geber, and undertook a voyage of
discovery in company with a number of Hebrews, who were no doubt
despatched in the same capacity as the royal messengers sent with the
galleys of Hâtshopsîtû. It was a venture similar to those so frequently
undertaken by the Egyptian admirals in the palmy days of the Theban navy,
and of which we find so many curious pictures among the bas-reliefs at
Deîr el-Baharî. On their return, after a three years’ absence, they
reported that they had sailed to a country named Ophir, and produced in
support of their statement a freight well calculated to convince the most
sceptical, consisting as it did of four hundred and twenty talents of
gold. The success of this first venture encouraged Solomon to persevere in
such expeditions: he sent his fleet on several voyages to Ophir, and
procured from thence a rich harvest of gold and silver, wood and ivory,
apes and peacocks.*
* 1 Kings ix. 26-28, x. 11, 12; cf. 2 Citron, viii. 17, 18, ix. 10, 11,
21. A whole library might be stocked with the various treatises which have
appeared on the situation of the country of Ophir: Arabia, Persia, India,
Java, and America have all been suggested. The mention of almug wood and
of peacocks, which may be of Indian origin, for a long time inclined the
scale in favour of India, but the discoveries of Mauch and Bent on the
Zimbabaye have drawn attention to the basin of the Zambesi and the ruins
found there. Dr. Peters, one of the best-known German explorers, is
inclined to agree with Mauch and Bent, in their theory as to the position
of the Ophir of the Bible. I am rather inclined to identify it with the
Egyptian Pûanît, on the Somali or Yemen seaboard.
Was the profit from these distant cruises so very considerable after all?
After they had ceased, memory may have thrown a fanciful glamour over
them, and magnified the treasures they had yielded to fabulous
proportions: we are told that Solomon would have no drinking vessels or
other utensils save those of pure gold, and that in his days “silver was
as stone,” so common had it become.*
Doubtless Hiram took good care to obtain his fall share of the gains. The
Phoenician king began to find Tyre too restricted for him, the various
islets over which it was scattered affording too small a space to support
the multitudes which flocked thither. He therefore filled up the channels
which separated them; by means of embankments and fortified quays he
managed to reclaim from the sea a certain amount of land on the south;
after which he constructed two harbours—one on the north, called the
Sidonian; the other on the south, named the Egyptian. He was perhaps also
the originator of the long causeway, the lower courses of which still
serve as a breakwater, by which he transformed the projecting headland
between the island and the mainland into a well-sheltered harbour.
Finally, he set to work on a task like that which he had already helped
Solomon to accomplish: he built for himself a palace of cedar-wood, and
restored and beautified the temples of the gods, including the ancient
sanctuary of Melkarth, and that of Astarté. In his reign the greatness of
Phoenicia reached its zenith, just as that of the Hebrews culminated under
David.
The most celebrated of Solomon’s works were to be seen at Jerusalem. As
David left it, the city was somewhat insignificant. The water from its
fountains had been amply sufficient for the wants of the little Jebusite
town; it was wholly inadequate to meet the requirements of the
growing-population of the capital of Judah. Solomon made better provision
for its distribution than there had been in the past, and then tapped a
new source of supply some distance away, in the direction of Bethlehem; it
is even said that he made the reservoirs for its storage which still bear
his name.*
Meanwhile, Hiram had drawn up for him plans for a fortified residence, on
a scale commensurate with the thriving fortunes of his dynasty. The main
body was constructed of stone from the Judæan quarries, cut by masons from
Byblos, but it was inlaid with cedar to such an extent that one wing was
called “the house of the forest-of-Lebanon.” It contained everything that
was required for the comfort of an Eastern potentate—a harem, with
separate apartments for the favourites (one of which was probably
decorated in the Egyptian manner for the benefit of Pharaoh’s daughter);*
then there were reception-halls, to which the great men of the kingdom
were admitted; storehouses, and an arsenal. The king’s bodyguard possessed
five hundred shields “of beaten gold,” which were handed over by each
detachment, when the guard was relieved, to the one which took its place.
But this gorgeous edifice would not have been complete if the temple of
Jahveh had not arisen side by side with the abode of the temporal ruler of
the nation. No monarch in those days could regard his position as
unassailable until he had a sanctuary and a priesthood attached to his
religion, either in his own palace or not far away from it. David had
scarcely entered Jerusalem before he fixed upon the threshing-floor of
Araunah the Jebusite as a site for the temple, and built an altar there to
the Lord during a plague which threatened to decimate his people; but as
he did not carry the project any farther,** Solomon set himself to
complete the task which his father had merely sketched out.
The site was irregular in shape, and the surface did not naturally lend
itself to the purpose for which it was destined. His engineers, however,
put this right by constructing enormous piers for the foundations, which
they built up from the slopes of the mountain or from the bottom of the
valley as circumstances required: the space between this artificial casing
and the solid rock was filled up, and the whole mass formed a nearly
square platform, from which the temple buildings were to rise. Hiram
undertook to supply materials for the work. Solomon had written to him
that he should command “that they hew me cedar trees out of Lebanon; and
my servants shall be with thy servants; and I will give thee hire for thy
servants according to all that thou shalt say: for thou knowest that there
is not among us any that can skill to hew timber like unto the Zidonians.”
Hiram was delighted to carry out the wishes of his royal friend with
regard to the cedar and cypress woods.
“My servants,” he answered, “shall bring them down from Lebanon unto the
sea: and I will make them into rafts to go by sea unto the place that thou
shalt appoint me, and will cause them to be broken up there, and thou
shalt receive them; and thou shalt accomplish my desire, in giving food
for my household.” The payment agreed on, which was in kind, consisted of
twenty thousand kôr of wheat, and twenty kôr of pure oil per
annum, for which Hiram was to send to Jerusalem not only the timber, but
architects, masons, and Gebalite carpenters (i.e. from Byblos), smelters,
sculptors, and overseers.* Solomon undertook to supply the necessary
labour, and for this purpose made a levy of men from all the tribes. The
number of these labourers was reckoned at thirty thousand, and they were
relieved regularly every three months; seventy thousand were occupied in
the transport of the materials, while eighty thousand cut the stones from
the quarry.**
It is possible that the numbers may have been somewhat exaggerated in
popular estimation, since the greatest Egyptian monuments never required
such formidable levies of workmen for their construction; we must
remember, however, that such an undertaking demanded a considerable
effort, as the Hebrews were quite unaccustomed to that kind of labour. The
front of the temple faced eastward; it was twenty cubits wide, sixty long,
and thirty high. The walls were of enormous squared stones, and the
ceilings and frames of the doors of carved cedar, plated with gold; it was
entered by a porch, between two columns of wrought bronze, which were
called Jachin and Boaz.*
* 1 Kings vii. 15-22; cf. 2 Chron. iv. 11-13. The names were probably
engraved each upon its respective column, and taken together formed an
inscription which could be interpreted in various ways. The most simple
interpretation is to recognise in them a kind of talismanic formula to
ensure the strength of the building, affirming “that it exists by the
strength” of God.
The interior contained only two chambers; the hekal, or holy place,
where were kept the altar of incense, the seven-branched candlestick, and
the table of shewbread; and the Holy of Holies—debîr—where
the ark of God rested beneath the wings of two cherubim of gilded wood.
Against the outer wall of the temple, and rising to half its height, were
rows of small apartments, three stories high, in which were kept the
treasures and vessels of the sanctuary. While the high priest was allowed
to enter the Holy of Holies only once a year, the holy place was
accessible at all times to the priests engaged in the services, and it was
there that the daily ceremonies of the temple-worship took place; there
stood also the altar of incense and the table of shewbread. The altar of
sacrifice stood on the platform in front of the entrance; it was a cube of
masonry with a parapet, and was approached by stone steps; it resembled,
probably, in general outline the monumental altars which stood in the
forecourts of the Egyptian temples and palaces. There stood by it, as was
also customary in Chaldæa, a “molten sea,” and some ten smaller lavers, in
which the Lévites washed the portions of the victims to be offered,
together with the basins, knives, flesh-hooks, spoons, shovels, and other
utensils required for the bloody sacrifice. A low wall surmounted by a
balustrade of cedar-wood separated this sacred enclosure from a court to
which the people were permitted to have free access. Both palace and
temple were probably designed in that pseudo-Egyptian style which the
Phoenicians were known to affect. The few Hebrew edifices of which remains
have come down to us, reveal a method of construction and decoration
common in Egypt; we have an example of this in the uprights of the doors
at Lachish, which terminate in an Egyptian gorge like that employed in the
naos of the Phonician temples.
The completion of the whole plan occupied thirteen years; at length both
palace and temple were finished in the XVIIth year of the king’s reign.
Solomon, however, did not wait for the completion of the work to dedicate
the sanctuary to God. As soon as the inner court was ready, which was in
his XIth year, he proceeded to transfer the ark to its new resting-place;
it was raised upon a cubical base, and the long staves by which it had
been carried were left in their rings, as was usual in the case of the
sacred barks of the Egyptian deities.* The God of Israel thus took up His
abode in the place in which He was henceforth to be honoured. The
sacrifices on the occasion of the dedication were innumerable, and
continued for fourteen days, in the presence of the representatives of all
Israel. The ornate ceremonial and worship which had long been lavished on
the deities of rival nations were now, for the first time, offered to the
God of Israel. The devout Hebrews who had come together from far and near
returned to their respective tribes filled with admiration,** and their
limited knowledge of art doubtless led them to consider their temple as
unique in the world; in fact, it presented nothing remarkable either in
proportion, arrangement, or in the variety and richness of its
ornamentation and furniture. Compared with the magnificent monuments of
Egypt and Chaldæa, the work of Solomon was what the Hebrew kingdom appears
to us among the empires of the ancient world—a little temple suited
to a little people.
The priests to whose care it was entrusted did not differ much from those
whom David had gathered about him at the outset of the monarchy. They in
no way formed an hereditary caste confined to the limits of a rigid
hierarchy; they admitted into their number—at least up to a certain
point—men of varied extraction, who were either drawn by their own
inclinations to the service of the altar, or had been dedicated to it by
their parents from childhood. He indeed was truly a priest “who said of
his father and mother, ‘I have not seen him;’ neither did he acknowledge
his brethren, nor knew he his own children.” He was content, after
renouncing these, to observe the law of God and keep His covenant, and to
teach Jacob His judgments and Israel His law; he put incense before the
Lord, and whole burnt offerings upon His altar.*
As in Egypt, the correct offering of the Jewish sacrifices was beset with
considerable difficulties, and the risk of marring their efficacy by the
slightest inadvertence necessitated the employment of men who were
thoroughly instructed in the divinely appointed practices and formulæ. The
victims had to be certified as perfect, while the offerers themselves had
to be ceremonially pure; and, indeed, those only who had been specially
trained were able to master the difficulties connected with the minutiae
of legal purity. The means by which the future was made known necessitated
the intervention of skilful interpreters of the Divine will. We know that
in Egypt the statues of the gods were supposed to answer the questions put
to them by movements of the head or arms, sometimes even by the living
voice; but the Hebrews do not appear to have been influenced by any such
recollections in the use of their sacred oracles. We are ignorant,
however, of the manner in which the ephod was consulted, and we know
merely that the art of interrogating the Divine will by it demanded a long
noviciate.* The benefits derived by those initiated into these mysteries
were such as to cause them to desire the privileges to be perpetuated to
their children. Gathered round the ancient sanctuaries were certain
families who, from father to son, were devoted to the performance of the
sacred rites, as, for instance, that of Eli at Shiloh, and that of
Jonathan-ben-Gershom at Dan, near the sources of the Jordan; but in
addition to these, the text mentions functionaries analogous to those
found among the Canaanites, diviners, seers—roê—who had
means of discovering that which was hidden from the vulgar, even to the
finding of lost objects, but whose powers sometimes rose to a higher level
when they were suddenly possessed by the prophetic spirit and enabled to
reveal coming events. Besides these, again, were the prophets—nabî**—who
lived either alone or in communities, and attained, by means of a strict
training, to a vision of the future.
Their prophetic utterances were accompanied by music and singing, and the
exaltation of spirit which followed their exercises would at times spread
to the bystanders,—as is the case in the “zikr” of the Mahomedans of
to-day.*
The early kings, Saul and David, used to have recourse to individuals
belonging to all these three classes, but the prophets, owing to the
intermittent character of their inspiration and their ministry, could not
fill a regular office attached to the court. One of this class was raised
up by God from time to time to warn or guide His servants, and then sank
again into obscurity; the priests, on the contrary, were always at hand,
and their duties brought them into contact with the sovereign all the year
round. The god who was worshipped in the capital of the country and his
priesthood promptly acquired a predominant position in all Oriental
monarchies, and most of the other temples, together with the sacerdotal
bodies attached to them, usually fell into disrepute, leaving them
supreme. If Amon of Thebes became almost the sole god, and his priests the
possessors of all Egypt, it was because the accession of the XVIIIth
dynasty had made his pontiffs the almoners of the Pharaoh. Something of
the same sort took place in Israel; the priesthood at Jerusalem attached
to the temple built by the sovereign, being constantly about his person,
soon surpassed their brethren in other parts of the country both in
influence and possessions. Under David’s reign their head had been
Abiathar, son of Ahimelech, a descendant of Eli, but on Solomon’s
accession the primacy had been transferred to the line of Zadok. In this
alliance of the throne and the altar, it was natural at first that the
throne should reap the advantage. The king appears to have continued to be
a sort of high priest, and to have officiated at certain times and
occasions.* The priests kept the temple in order, and watched over the
cleanliness of its chambers and its vessels; they interrogated the Divine
will for the king according to the prescribed ceremonies, and offered
sacrifices on behalf of the monarch and his subjects; in short, they were
at first little more than chaplains to the king and his family.
Solomon’s allegiance to the God of Israel did not lead him to proscribe
the worship of other gods; he allowed his foreign wives the exercise of
their various religions, and he raised an altar to Chemosh on the Mount of
Olives for one of them who was a Moabite. The political supremacy and
material advantages which all these establishments acquired for Judah
could not fail to rouse the jealousy of the other tribes. Ephraim
particularly looked on with ill-concealed anger at the prospect of the
hegemony becoming established in the hands of a tribe which could be
barely said to have existed before the time of David, and was to a
considerable extent of barbarous origin. Taxes, homage, the keeping up and
recruiting of garrisons, were all equally odious to this, as well as to
the other clans descended from Joseph; meanwhile their burdens did not
decrease. A new fortress had to be built at Jerusalem by order of the aged
king. One of the overseers appointed for this work—Jeroboam, the son
of Nebat—appears to have stirred up the popular discontent, and to
have hatched a revolutionary plot. Solomon, hearing of the conspiracy,
attempted to suppress it; Jeroboam was forewarned, and fled to Egypt,
where Pharaoh Sheshonq received him with honour, and gave him his wife’s
sister in marriage.* The peace of the nation had not been ostensibly
troubled, but the very fact that a pretender should have risen up in
opposition to the legitimate king augured ill for the future of the
dynasty. In reality, the edifice which David had raised with such
difficulty tottered on its foundations before the death of his successor;
the foreign vassals were either in a restless state or ready to throw off
their allegiance; money was scarce, and twenty Galilæan towns had been
perforce ceded to Hiram to pay the debts due to him for the building of
the temple;** murmurings were heard among the people, who desired an
easier life.
In a future age, when priestly and prophetic influences had gained the
ascendant, amid the perils which assailed Jerusalem, and the miseries of
the exile, the Israelites, contrasting their humiliation with the glory of
the past, forgot the reproaches which their forefathers had addressed to
the house of David, and surrounded its memory with a halo of romance.
David again became the hero, and Solomon the saint and sage of his race;
the latter “spake three thousand proverbs; and his songs were a thousand
and five. And he spake of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon even
unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of beasts,
and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes.” We are told that God
favoured him with a special predilection, and appeared to him on three
separate occasions: once immediately after the death of David, to
encourage him by the promise of a prosperous reign, and the gift of wisdom
in governing; again after the dedication of the temple, to confirm him in
his pious intentions; and lastly to upbraid him for his idolatry, and to
predict the downfall of his house. Solomon is supposed to have had
continuous dealings with all the sovereigns of the Oriental world,* and a
Queen of Sheba is recorded as having come to bring him gifts from the
furthest corner of Arabia.
His contemporaries, however, seem to have regarded him as a tyrant who
oppressed them with taxes, and whose death was unregretted.*
His son Rehoboam experienced no opposition in Jerusalem and Judah on
succeeding to the throne of his father; when, however, he repaired to
Shechem to receive the oath of allegiance from the northern and central
tribes, he found them unwilling to tender it except under certain
conditions; they would consent to obey him only on the promise of his
delivering them from the forced labour which had been imposed upon them by
his predecessors. Jeroboam, who had returned from his Egyptian exile on
the news of Solomon’s death, undertook to represent their grievances to
the new king. “Thy father made our yoke grievous: now therefore make thou
the grievous service of thy father, and his heavy yoke which he put upon
us, lighter, and we will serve thee.” Rehoboam demanded three days for the
consideration of his reply; he took counsel with the old advisers of the
late king, who exhorted him to comply with the petition, but the young men
who were his habitual companions urged him, on the contrary, to meet the
remonstrances of his subjects with threats of still harsher exactions.
Their advice was taken, and when Jeroboam again presented himself,
Rehoboam greeted him with raillery and threats. “My little finger is
thicker than my father’s loins. And now whereas my father did lade you
with a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke: my father chastised you with
whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions.” This unwise answer did not
produce the intimidating effect which was desired; the cry of revolt,
which had already been raised in the earlier days of the monarchy, was
once more heard. “What portion have we in David? neither have we
inheritance in the son of Jesse: to your tents, O Israel: now see to thine
own house, David.” Rehoboam attempted to carry his threats into execution,
and sent the collectors of taxes among the rebels to enforce payment; but
one of them was stoned almost before his eyes, and the king himself had
barely time to regain his chariot and flee to Jerusalem to escape an
outburst of popular fury. The northern and central tribes immediately
offered the crown to Jeroboam, and the partisans of the son of Solomon
were reduced to those of his own tribe; Judah, Caleb, the few remaining
Simeonites, and some of the towns of Dan and Benjamin, which were too near
to Jerusalem to escape the influence of a great city, were all who threw
in their lot with him.*
Thus was accomplished the downfall of the House of David, and with it the
Hebrew kingdom which it had been at such pains to build up. When we
consider the character of the two kings who formed its sole dynasty, we
cannot refrain from thinking that it deserved a better fate. David and
Solomon exhibited that curious mixture of virtues and vices which
distinguished most of the great Semite princes. The former, a soldier of
fortune and an adventurous hero, represents the regular type of the
founder of a dynasty; crafty, cruel, ungrateful, and dissolute, but at the
same time brave, prudent, cautious, generous, and capable of enthusiasm,
clemency, and repentance; at once so lovable and so gentle that he was
able to inspire those about him with the firmest friendship and the most
absolute devotion. The latter was a religious though sensual monarch, fond
of display—the type of sovereign who usually succeeds to the head of
the family and enjoys the wealth which his predecessor had acquired,
displaying before all men the results of an accomplished work, and often
thereby endangering its stability. The real reason of their failure to
establish a durable monarchy was the fact that neither of them understood
the temperament of the people they were called upon to govern. The few
representations we possess of the Hebrews of this period depict them as
closely resembling the nations which inhabited Southern Syria at the time
of the Egyptian occupation. They belong to the type with which the
monuments have made us familiar; they are distinguished by an aquiline
nose, projecting cheek-bones, and curly hair and beard. They were
vigorous, hardy, and inured to fatigue, but though they lacked those
qualities of discipline and obedience which are the characteristics of
true warrior races, David had not hesitated to employ them in war; they
were neither sailors, builders, nor given to commerce and industries, and
yet Solomon built fleets, raised palaces and a temple, and undertook
maritime expeditions, and financial circumstances seemed for the moment to
be favourable.
The onward progress of Assyria towards the Mediterranean had been arrested
by the Hittites, Egypt was in a condition of lethargy, the Aramæan
populations were fretting away their energies in internal dissensions;
David, having encountered no serious opposition after his victory over the
Philistines, had extended his conquests and increased the area of his
kingdom, and the interested assistance which Tyre afterwards gave to
Solomon enabled the latter to realise his dreams of luxury and royal
magnificence. But the kingdom which had been created by David and Solomom
rested solely on their individual efforts, and its continuance could be
ensured only by bequeathing it to descendants who had sufficient energy
and prudence to consolidate its weaker elements, and build up the
tottering materials which were constantly threatening to fall asunder. As
soon as the government had passed into the hands of the weakling Rehoboam,
who had at the outset departed from his predecessors’ policy, the
component parts of the kingdom, which had for a few years been, held
together, now became disintegrated without a shock, and as if by mutual
consent. The old order of things which existed in the time of the Judges
had passed away with the death of Saul. The advantages which ensued from a
monarchical regime were too apparent to permit of its being set aside, and
the tribes who had been bound together by nearly half a century of
obedience to a common master now resolved themselves, according to their
geographical positions, into two masses of unequal numbers and extent—Judah
in the south, together with the few clans who remained loyal to the kingly
house, and Israel in the north and the regions beyond Jordan, occupying
three-fourths of the territory which had belonged to David and Solomon.
Israel, in spite of its extent and population, did not enjoy the
predominant position which we might have expected at the beginning of its
independent existence. It had no political unity, no capital in which to
concentrate its resources, no temple, and no army; it represented the
material out of which a state could be formed rather than one already
constituted. It was subdivided into three groups, formerly independent of,
and almost strangers to each other, and between whom neither David nor
Solomon had been able to establish any bond which would enable them to
forget their former isolation. The centre group was composed of the House
of Joseph—Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh—and comprised the
old fortresses of Perea, Mahanaim, Penuel, Succoth, and Eamoth, ranged in
a line running parallel with the Jordan. In the eastern group were the
semi-nomad tribes of Reuben and Gad, who still persisted in the pastoral
habits of their ancestors, and remained indifferent to the various
revolutions which had agitated their race for several generations.
Finally, in the northern group lay the smaller tribes of Asher, Naphtali,
Issachar, Zebulon, and Dan, hemmed in between the Phoenicians and the
Aramaeans of Zoba and Damascus. Each group had its own traditions, its own
interests often opposed to those of its neighbours, and its own peculiar
mode of life, which it had no intention of renouncing for any one else’s
benefit. The difficulty of keeping these groups together became at once
apparent. Shechem had been the first to revolt against Rehoboam; it was a
large and populous town, situated almost in the centre of the newly formed
state, and the seat of an ancient oracle, both of which advantages seemed
to single it out as the future capital. But its very importance, and the
memories of its former greatness under Jeruhhaal and Abimelech, were
against it. Built in the western territory belonging to Manasseh, the
eastern and northern clans would at once object to its being chosen, on
the ground that it would humiliate them before the House of Joseph, in the
same manner as the selection of Jerusalem had tended to make them
subservient to Judah. Jeroboam would have endangered his cause by fixing
on it as his capital, and he therefore soon quitted it to establish
himself at Tirzah. It is true that the latter town was also situated in
the mountains of Ephraim, but it was so obscure and insignificant a place
that it disarmed all jealousy; the new king therefore took up his
residence in it, since he was forced to fix on some royal abode, but it
never became for him what Jerusalem was to his rival, a capital at once
religious and military. He had his own sanctuary and priests at Tirzah, as
was but natural, but had he attempted to found a temple which would have
attracted the whole population to a common worship, he would have excited
jealousies which would have been fatal to his authority. On the other
hand, Solomon’s temple had in its short period of existence not yet
acquired such a prestige as to prevent Jeroboam’s drawing his people away
from it: which he determined to do from a fear that contact with Jerusalem
would endanger the allegiance of his subjects to his person and family.
Such concourses of worshippers, assembling at periodic intervals from all
parts of the country, soon degenerated into a kind of fair, in which
commercial as well as religious motives had their part.
These gatherings formed a source of revenue to the prince in whose capital
they were held, and financial as well as political considerations required
that periodical assemblies should be established in Israel similar to
those which attracted Judah to Jerusalem. Jeroboam adopted a plan which
while safeguarding the interests of his treasury, prevented his becoming
unpopular with his own subjects; as he was unable to have a temple for
himself alone, he chose two out of the most venerated ancient sanctuaries,
that of Dan for the northern tribes, and that of Bethel, on the Judæan
frontier, for the tribes of the east and centre. He made two calves of
gold, one for each place, and said to the people, “It is too much for you
to go up to Jerusalem; behold thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up
out of the land of Egypt.” He granted the sanctuaries certain appanages,
and established a priesthood answering to that which officiated in the
rival kingdom: “whosoever would he consecrated him, that there might be
priests of the high places.” * While Jeroboam thus endeavoured to
strengthen himself on the throne by adapting the monarchy to the
temperament of the tribes over which he ruled, Rehoboam took measures to
regain his lost ground and restore the unity which he himself had
destroyed. He recruited the army which had been somewhat neglected in the
latter years of his father, restored the walls of the cities which had
remained faithful to him, and fortified the places which constituted his
frontier defences against the Israelites.** His ambition was not as
foolish as we might be tempted to imagine. He had soldiers, charioteers,
generals, skilled in the art of war, well-filled storehouses, the remnant
of the wealth of Solomon, and, as a last resource, the gold of the temple
at Jerusalem. He ruled over the same extent of territory as that possessed
by David after the death of Saul, but the means at his disposal were
incontestably greater than those of his grandfather, and it is possible
that he might in the end have overcome Jeroboam, as David overcame
Ishbosheth, had not the intervention of Egypt disconcerted his plans, and,
by exhausting his material forces, struck a death-blow to all his hopes.
The century and a half which had elapsed since the death of the last of
the Ramessides had, as far as we can ascertain, been troubled by civil
wars and revolutions.*
* I have mentioned above the uncertainty which still shrouds the XXth
dynasty. The following is the order in which I propose that its kings
should be placed:—
The imperious Egypt of the Theban dynasties had passed away, but a new
Egypt had arisen, not without storm and struggle, in its place. As long as
the campaigns of the Pharaohs had been confined to the Nile valley and the
Oases, Thebes had been the natural centre of the kingdom; placed almost
exactly between the Mediterranean and the southern frontier, it had been
both the national arsenal and the treasure-house to which all foreign
wealth had found its way from the Persian Gulf to the Sahara, and from the
coasts of Asia Minor to the equatorial swamps. The cities of the Delta,
lying on the frontier of those peoples with whom Egypt now held but little
intercourse, possessed neither the authority nor the resources of Thebes;
even Memphis, to which the prestige of her ancient dynasties still clung,
occupied but a secondary place beside her rival. The invasion of the
shepherds, by making the Thebaid the refuge and last bulwark of the
Egyptian nation, increased its importance: in the critical times of the
struggle, Thebes was not merely the foremost city in the country, it
represented the country itself, and the heart of Egypt may be said to have
throbbed within its walls. The victories of Ahmosis, the expeditions of
Thûtmosis I. and Thûtmosis III., enlarged her horizon; her Pharaohs
crossed the isthmus of Suez, they conquered Syria, subdued the valleys of
the Euphrates and the Balîkh, and by so doing increased her wealth and her
splendour. Her streets witnessed during two centuries processions of
barbarian prisoners laden with the spoils of conquest. But with the advent
of the XIXth and XXth dynasties came anxious times; the peoples of Syria
and Libya, long kept in servitude, at length rebelled, and the long
distance between Karnak and Gaza soon began to be irksome to princes who
had to be constantly on the alert on the Canaanite frontier, and who found
it impossible to have their head-quarters six hundred miles from the scene
of hostilities. Hence it came about that Ramses II., Mînephtah, and Ramses
III. all took up their abode in the Delta during the greater part of their
active life; they restored its ancient towns and founded new ones, which
soon acquired considerable wealth by foreign commerce. The centre of
government of the empire, which, after the dissolution of the old Memphite
state, had been removed southwards to Thebes on account of the conquest of
Ethiopia and the encroachment of Theban civilization upon Nubia and the
Sudan, now gradually returned northwards, and passing over Heracleo-polis,
which had exercised a transitory supremacy, at length established itself
in the Delta. Tanis, Bubastis, Sais, Mondes, and Sebennytos all disputed
the honour of forming the royal residence, and all in turn during the
course of ages enjoyed the privilege without ever rising to the rank of
Thebes, or producing any sovereigns to be compared with those of her
triumphant dynasties. Tanis was, as we have seen, the first of these to
rule the whole of the Nile valley. Its prosperity had continued to
increase from the time that Ramses II. began to rebuild it; the remaining
inhabitants of Avaris, mingled with the natives of pure race and the
prisoners of war settled there, had furnished it with an active and
industrious population, which had considerably increased during the
peaceful reigns of the XXth dynasty. The surrounding country, drained and
cultivated by unremitting efforts, became one of the most fruitful parts
of the Delta; there was a large exportation of fish and corn, to which
were soon added the various products of its manufactories, such as linen
and woollen stuffs, ornaments, and objects in glass and in precious
metals.*
These were embarked on Egyptian or Phoenician galleys, and were exchanged
in the ports of the Mediterranean for Syrian, Asiatic, or Ægean
commodities, which were then transmitted by the Egyptian merchants to the
countries of the East and to Northern Africa.* The port of Tanis was one
of the most secure and convenient which existed at that period. It was at
sufficient distance from the coast to be safe from the sudden attacks of
pirates,** and yet near enough to permit of its being reached from the
open by merchantmen in a few hours of easy navigation; the arms of the
Nile, and the canals which here flowed into the sea, were broad and deep,
and, so long as they were kept well dredged, would allow the
heaviest-laden vessel of large draught to make its way up them with ease.
The site of the town was not less advantageous for overland traffic. Tanis
was the first important station encountered by caravans after crossing the
frontier at Zalû, and it offered them a safe and convenient emporium for
the disposal of their goods in exchange for the riches of Egypt and the
Delta. The combination of so many advantageous features on one site tended
to the rapid development of both civic and individual wealth; in less than
three centuries after its rebuilding by Ramses II., Tanis had risen to a
position which enabled its sovereigns to claim even the obedience of
Thebes itself.
We know very little of the history of this Tanite dynasty; the monuments
have not revealed the names of all its kings, and much difficulty is
experienced in establishing the sequence of those already brought to
light.*
* The classification of the Tanite line has been complicated in the minds
of most Egyptologists by the tendency to ignore the existence of the
sacerdotal dynasty of high priests, to confuse with the Tanite Pharaohs
those of the high priests who bore the crown, and to identify in the lists
of Manetho (more or less corrected) the names they are in search of. A
fresh examination of the subject has led me to adopt provisionally the
following order for the series of Tanite kings:—
Their actual domain barely extended as far as Siut, but their suzerainty
was acknowledged by the Said as well as by all or part of Ethiopia, and
the Tanite Pharaohs maintained their authority with such vigour, that they
had it in their power on several occasions to expel the high priests of
Amon, and to restore, at least for a time, the unity of the empire. To
accomplish this, it would have been sufficient for them to have assumed
the priestly dignity at Thebes, and this was what no doubt took place at
times when a vacancy in the high priesthood occurred; but it was merely in
an interim, and the Tanite sovereigns always relinquished the office,
after a brief lapse of time, in favour of some member of the family of
Hrihor whose right of primogeniture entitled him to succeed to it.* It
indeed seemed as if custom and religious etiquette had made the two
offices of the pontificate and the royal dignity incompatible for one
individual to hold simultaneously. The priestly duties had become
marvellously complicated during the Theban hegemony, and the minute
observances which they entailed absorbed the whole life of those who
dedicated themselves to their performance.**
They had daily to fulfil a multitude of rites, distributed over the
various hours in such a manner that it seemed impossible to find leisure
for any fresh occupation without encroaching on the time allotted to
absolute bodily needs. The high priest rose each morning at an appointed
hour; he had certain times for taking food, for recreation, for giving
audience, for dispensing justice, for attending to worldly affairs, and
for relaxation with his wives and children; at night he kept watch, or
rose at intervals to prepare for the various ceremonies which could only
be celebrated at sunrise. He was responsible for the superintendence of
the priests of Amon in the numberless festivals held in honour of the
gods, from which he could not absent himself except for some legitimate
reason. From all this it will be seen how impossible it was for a lay
king, like the sovereign ruling at Tanis, to submit to such restraints
beyond a certain point; his patience would soon have become exhausted,
want of practice would have led him to make slips or omissions, rendering
the rites null and void; and the temporal affairs of his kingdom—internal
administration, justice, finance, commerce, and war—made such
demands upon his time, that he was obliged as soon as possible to find a
substitute to fulfil his religious duties. The force of circumstances
therefore maintained the line of Theban high priests side by side with
their sovereigns, the Tanite kings. They were, it is true, dangerous
rivals, both on account of the wealth of their fief and of the immense
prestige which they enjoyed in Egypt, Ethiopia, and in all the nomes
devoted to the worship of Amon. They were allied to the elder branch of
the ramessides, and had thus inherited such near rights to the crown that
Smendes had not hesitated to concede to Hrihor the cartouches, the
preamble, and insignia of the Pharaoh, including the pschent and the iron
helmet inlaid with gold. This concession, however, had been made as a
personal favour, and extended only to the lifetime of Hrihor, without
holding good, as a matter of course, for his successors; his son Piônkhi
had to confine himself to the priestly titles,* and his grandson Paînotmû
enjoyed the kingly privileges only during part of his life, doubtless in
consequence of his marriage with a certain Mâkerî, probably daughter of
Psiûkhânnît L, the Tanite king. Mâkerî apparently died soon after, and the
discovery of her coffin in the hiding-place at Deîr el-Baharî reveals the
fact of her death in giving birth to a little daughter who did not survive
her, and who rests in the same coffin beside the mummy of her mother. None
of the successors of Paînotmû—Masahirti, Manakhpirrî, Paînotmû II.,
Psiûkhânnît, Nsbindîdi—enjoyed a similar distinction, and if one of
them happened to surround his name with a cartouche, it was done
surreptitiously, without the authority of the sovereign.**
Paînotmû II. contented himself with drawing attention to his connection
with the reigning house, and styled himself “Royal Son of
Psiûkhânnît-Mîamon,” on account of his ancestress Mâkerî having been the
daughter of the Pharaoh Psiûkhânnît.*
The relationship of which he boasted was a distant one, but many of his
contemporaries who claimed to be of the line of Sesostris, and called
themselves “royal sons of Ramses,” traced their descent from a far more
remote ancestor.
The death of one high priest, or the appointment of his successor, was
often the occasion of disturbances; the jealousies between his children by
the same or by different wives were as bitter as those which existed in
the palace of the Pharaohs, and the suzerain himself was obliged at times
to interfere in order to restore peace. It was owing to an intervention of
this kind that Manakhpirrî was called on to replace his brother Masahirti.
A section of the Theban population had revolted, but the rising had been
put down by the Tanite Siamon, and its leaders banished to the Oasis;
Manakhpirrî had thereupon been summoned to court and officially invested
with the pontificate in the XXVth year of the king’s reign. But on his
return to Karnak, the new high priest desired to heal old feuds, and at
once recalled the exiles.* Troubles and disorders appeared to beset the
Thebans, and, like the last of the Ramessides, they were engaged in a
perpetual struggle against robbers.**
The town, deprived of its former influx of foreign spoil, became more and
more impoverished, and its population gradually dwindled. The necropolis
suffered increasingly from pillagers, and the burying-places of the kings
were felt to be in such danger, that the authorities, despairing of being
able to protect them, withdrew the mummies from their resting-places. The
bodies of Seti I., Ramses II., and Ramses III. were once more carried down
the valley, and, after various removals, were at length huddled together
for safety in the tomb of Amenôthes I. at Drah-abu’l-Neggah.
The Tanite Pharaohs seemed to have lacked neither courage nor good will.
The few monuments which they have left show that to some extent they
carried on the works begun by their predecessors. An unusually high
inundation had injured the temple at Karnak, the foundations had been
denuded by the water, and serious damage would have been done, had not the
work of reparation been immediately undertaken. Nsbindîdi reopened the
sandstone quarries between Erment and Grebeleîn, from which Seti I. had
obtained the building materials for the temple, and drew from thence what
was required for the repair of the edifice. Two of the descendants of
Nsbindîdi, Psiûkhânnît I. and Amenemôpît, remodelled the little temple
built by Kheops in honour of his daughter Honît-sonû, at the south-east
angle of his pyramid. Both Siamonmîamon and Psiûkhânnît I. have left
traces of their work at Memphis, and the latter inserted his cartouches on
two of the obelisks raised by Ramses at Heliopolis. But these were only
minor undertakings, and it is at Tanis that we must seek the most
characteristic examples of their activity. Here it was that Psiûkhânnît
rebuilt the brick ramparts which defended the city, and decorated several
of the halls of the great temple. The pylons of this sanctuary had been
merely begun by Sesostris: Siamon completed them, and added the sphinxes;
and the metal plaques and small objects which he concealed under the base
of one of the latter have been brought to light in the course of
excavations. The appropriation of the monuments of other kings, which we
have remarked under former dynasties, was also practised by the Tanites.
Siamon placed his inscriptions over those of the Kamessides, and
Psiûkhânnît engraved his name on the sphinxes and statues of Ame-nemhâît
III. as unscrupulously as Apôphis and the Hyksôs had done before him. The
Tanite sovereigns, however, were not at a loss for artists, and they had
revived, after the lapse of centuries, the traditions of the local school
which had flourished during the XIIth dynasty.
One of the groups, executed by order of Psiûkhânnît, has escaped
destruction, and is now in the Gîzeh Museum. It represents two figures of
the Nile, marching gravely shoulder to shoulder, and carrying in front of
them tables of offerings, ornamented with fish and garnished with flowers.
The stone in which they are executed is of an extraordinary hardness, but
the sculptor has, notwithstanding, succeeded in carving and polishing it
with a skill which does credit to his proficiency in his craft. The
general effect of the figures is a little heavy, but the detail is
excellent, and the correctness of pose, precision in modelling, and
harmony of proportion are beyond criticism. The heads present a certain
element of strangeness. The artist evidently took as his model, as far as
type and style of head-dress are concerned, the monuments of Amenemhâît
III. which he saw around him; indeed, he probably copied one of them
feature for feature. He has reproduced the severity of expression, the
firm mouth, the projecting cheek-bones, the long hair and fan-shaped beard
of his model, but he has not been able to imitate the broad and powerful
treatment of the older artists; his method of execution has a certain
hardness and conventionality which we never see to the same extent in the
statues of the XIIth dynasty. The work is, however, an extremely
interesting one, and we are tempted to wish that many more such monuments
had been saved from the ruins of the city.*
The Pharaoh who dedicated it was a great builder, and, like most of his
predecessors with similar tastes, somewhat of a conqueror. The sovereigns
of the XXIst dynasty, though they never undertook any distant campaigns,
did not neglect to keep up a kind of suzerainty over the Philistine
Shephelah to which they still laid claim. The expedition which one of
them, probably Psiûkhânnît II., led against Gezer, the alliance with the
Hebrews and the marriage of a royal princess with Solomon, must all have
been regarded at the court of Tanis as a partial revival of the former
Egyptian rule in Syria. The kings were, however, obliged to rest content
with small results, for though their battalions were sufficiently numerous
and well disciplined to overcome the Canaanite chiefs, or even the
Israelite kingdom, it is to be doubted whether they were strong enough to
attack the troops of the Aramæan or Hittite princes, who had a highly
organised military system, modelled on that of Assyria. Egyptian arms and
tactics had not made much progress since the great campaigns of the Theban
conquerors; the military authorities still complacently trusted to their
chariots and their light troops of archers at a period when the whole
success of a campaign was decided by heavily armed infantry, and when
cavalry had already begun to change the issue of battles. The decadence of
the military spirit in Egypt had been particularly marked in all classes
under the later Ramessides, and the native militia, without exception, was
reduced to a mere rabble—courageous, it is true, and able to sell
their lives dearly when occasion demanded, rather than give way before the
enemy, but entirely lacking that enthusiasm and resolution which sweep all
obstacles before them. The chariotry had not degenerated in the same way,
thanks to the care with which the Pharaoh and his vassals kept up the
breeding of suitable horses in the training stables of the principal
towns. Egypt provided Solomon with draught-horses, and with strong yet
light chariots, which he sold with advantage to the sovereigns of the
Orontes and the Euphrates. But it was the mercenaries who constituted the
most active and effective section of the Pharaonic armies. These troops
formed the backbone on which all the other elements—chariots,
spearmen, and native archers—were dependent. Their spirited attack
carried the other troops with them, and by a tremendous onslaught on the
enemy at a decisive moment gave the commanding general some chance of
success against the better-equipped and better-organised battalions that
he would be sure to meet with on the plains of Asia. The Tanite kings
enrolled these mercenaries in large numbers: they entrusted them with the
garrisoning of the principal towns, and confirmed the privileges which
their chiefs had received from the Ramessides, but the results of such a
policy were not long in manifesting themselves, and this state of affairs
had been barely a century in existence before Egypt became a prey to the
barbarians.
It would perhaps be more correct to say that it had fallen a prey to the
Libyans only. The Asiatics and Europeans whom the Theban Pharaohs had
called in to fight for them had become merged in the bulk of the nation,
or had died out for lack of renewal. Semites abounded, it is true, in the
eastern nomes of the Delta, but their presence had no effect on the
military strength of the country. Some had settled in the towns and
villages, and were engaged in commerce or industry; these included
Phoenician, Canaanite, Edomite, and even Hebrew merchants and artisans,
who had been forced to flee from their own countries owing to political
disturbances.*
A certain proportion were descendants of the Hidjsôs, who had been
reinforced from time to time by settlements of prisoners captured in
battle; they had taken refuge in the marshes as in the times of Abmosis,
and there lived in a kind of semi-civilized independence, refusing to pay
taxes, boasting of having kept themselves from any alliances with the
inhabitants of the Nile valley, while their kinsmen of the older stock
betrayed the knowledge of their origin by such disparaging nicknames as
Pa-shmûrî, “the stranger,” or Pi-âtnû, “the Asiatic.” The Shardana, who
had constituted the body-guard of Ramses II., and whose commanders had,
under Ramses III., ranked with the great officers of the crown, had all
but disappeared. It had been found difficult to recruit them since the
dislodgment of the People of the Sea from the Delta and the Syrian
littoral, and their settlement in Italy and the fabulous islands of the
Mediterranean; the adventurers from Crete and the Ægean coasts now
preferred to serve under the Philistines, where they found those who were
akin to their own race, and from thence they passed on to the Hebrews,
where, under David and Solomon, they were gladly hired as mercenaries.*
The Libyans had replaced the Shardana in all the offices they had filled
and in all the garrison towns they had occupied. The kingdom of Mâraîû and
Kapur had not survived the defeats which it had suffered from Mînephtah
and Ramses III., but the Mashaûasha who had founded it still kept an
active hegemony over their former subjects; hence it was that the
Egyptians became accustomed to look on all the Libyan tribes as branches
of the dominant race, and confounded all the immigrants from Libya under
the common name of Mashaûasha.* Egypt was thus slowly flooded by Libyans;
it was a gradual invasion, which succeeded by pacific means where brute
force had failed. A Berber population gradually took possession of the
country, occupying the eastern provinces of the Delta, filling its towns—Sais,
Damanhur, and Marea—making its way into the Fayum, the suburbs of
Heracleopolis, and penetrating as far south as Abydos; at the latter place
they were not found in such great numbers, but still considerable enough
to leave distinct traces.** The high priests of Amon seem to have been the
only personages who neglected to employ this ubiquitous race; but they
preferred to use the Nubian tribe of the Mâzaîû,*** who probably from the
XIIth dynasty onwards had constituted the police force of Thebes.
These Libyan immigrants had adopted the arts of Egypt and the externals of
her civilization; they sculptured rude figures on the rocks and engraved
scenes on their stone vessels, in which they are represented fully armed,*
and taking part in some skirmish or attack, or even a chase in the desert.
The hunters are divided into two groups, each of which is preceded by a
different ensign—that of the West for the right wing of the troop,
and that of the East for the left wing. They carry the spear the
boomerang, the club, the double-curved bow, and the dart; a fox’s skin
depends from their belts over their thighs, and an ostrich’s feather waves
above their curly hair.
They never abandoned this special head-dress and manner of arming
themselves, and they can always be recognised on the monuments by the
plumes surmounting their forehead.*
Their settlement on the banks of the Nile and intermarriage with the
Egyptians had no deteriorating effect on them, as had been the case with
the Shardana, and they preserved nearly all their national
characteristics. If here and there some of them became assimilated with
the natives, there was always a constant influx of new comers, full of
energy and vigour, who kept the race from becoming enfeebled. The
attractions of high pay and the prospect of a free-and-easy life drew them
to the service of the feudal lords. The Pharaoh entrusted their chiefs
with confidential offices about his person, and placed the royal princes
at their head. The position at length attained by these Mashaûasha was
analogous to that of the Oossasans at Babylon, and, indeed, was merely the
usual sequel of permitting a foreign militia to surround an Oriental
monarch; they became the masters of their sovereigns. Some of their
generals went so far as to attempt to use the soldiery to overturn the
native dynasty, and place themselves upon the throne; others sought to
make and unmake kings to suit their own taste. The earlier Tanite
sovereigns had hoped to strengthen their authority by trusting entirely to
the fidelity and gratitude of their guard; the later kings became mere
puppets in the hands of mercenaries. At length a Libyan family arose who,
while leaving the externals of power in the hands of the native
sovereigns, reserved to themselves the actual administration, and reduced
the kings to the condition of luxurious dependence enjoyed by the elder
branch of the Ramessides under the rule of the high priests of Amon.
There was at Bubastis, towards the middle or end of the XXth dynasty, a
Tihonû named Buîuwa-buîuwa. He was undoubtedly a soldier of fortune,
without either office or rank, but his descendants prospered and rose to
important positions among the Mashadasha chiefs: the fourth among these,
Sheshonq by name, married Mîhtinuôskhît, a princess of the royal line. His
son, Namarôti, managed to combine with his function of chief of the
Mashauasha several religious offices, and his grandson, also called
Sheshonq, had a still more brilliant career. We learn from the monuments
of the latter that, even before he had ascended the throne, he was
recognised as king and prince of princes, and had conferred on him the
command of all the Libyan troops. Officially he was the chief person in
the state after the sovereign, and had the privilege of holding personal
intercourse with the gods, Amonrâ included—a right which belonged
exclusively to the Pharaoh and the Theban high priest. The honours which
he bestowed upon his dead ancestors were of a remarkable character, and
included the institution of a liturgical office in connection with his
father Namarôti, a work which resembles in its sentiments the devotions of
Bamses II. to the memory of Seti. He succeeded in arranging a marriage
between his son Osorkon and a princess of the royal line, the daughter of
Psiûkhânnît II., by which alliance he secured the Tanite succession; he
obtained as a wife for his second son Aûpûti, the priestess of Amon, and
thus obtained an indirect influence over the Said and Nubia.*
This priestess was probably a daughter or niece of Paînotmû II., but we
are unacquainted with her name. The princesses continued to play a
preponderating part in the transmission of power, and we may assume that
the lady in question was one of those whose names have come down to us—Nsikhonsû,
Nsitanî-bashîrû, or Isimkhobîû II., who brought with her as a dowry the
Bubastite fief. We are at a loss whether to place Aûpûti immediately after
Paînotmû, or between the ephemeral pontificates of a certain Psiûkhannît
and a certain Nsbindîdi. His succession imposed a very onerous duty upon
him. Thebes was going through the agonies of famine and misery, and no
police supervision in the world could secure the treasures stored up in
the tombs of a more prosperous age from the attacks of a famished people.
Arrests, trials, and punishments were ineffectual against the violation of
the sepulchres, and even the royal mummies—including those placed in
the chapel of Amenôthes I. by previous high priests—were not exempt
from outrage. The remains of the most glorious of the Pharaohs were
reclining in this chapel, forming a sort of solemn parliament: here was
Saqnunrî Tiuâqni, the last member of the XVIIth dynasty; here also were
the first of the XVIIIth—Ahmosis, Amenôthes I., and the three of the
name Thûtmosis, together with the favourites of their respective harems—Nofritari,
Ahhotpû II., Anhâpû, Honittimihû, and Sitkamosis; and, in addition, Ramses
I., Seti I., Ramses II. of the XIXth dynasty, Ramses III. and Ramses X. of
the XXth dynasty. The “Servants of the True Place” were accustomed to
celebrate at the appointed periods the necessary rites established in
their honour. Inspectors, appointed for the purpose by the government,
determined from time to time the identity of the royal mummies, and
examined into the condition of their wrappings and coffins: after each
inspection a report, giving the date and the name of the functionary
responsible for the examination, was inscribed on the linen or the lid
covering the bodies. The most of the mummies had suffered considerably
before they reached the refuge in which they were found. The bodies of
Sitamon and of the Princess Honittimihû had been completely destroyed, and
bundles of rags had been substituted for them, so arranged with pieces of
wood as to resemble human figures. Ramses I., Ramses II., and Thûtmosis
had been deprived of their original shells, and were found in extemporised
cases. Hrihor’s successors, who regarded these sovereigns as their
legitimate ancestors, had guarded them with watchful care, but Aûpûti, who
did not feel himself so closely related to these old-world Pharaohs,
considered, doubtless, this vigilance irksome, and determined to locate
the mummies in a spot where they would henceforward be secure from all
attack. A princess of the family of Manakhpirrî—Isimkhobiû, it would
appear—had prepared a tomb for herself in the rocky cliff which
bounds the amphitheatre of Deîr el-Baharî on the south. The position lent
itself readily to concealment. It consisted of a well some 130 feet deep,
with a passage running out of it at right angles for a distance of some
200 feet and ending in a low, oblong, roughly cut chamber, lacking both
ornament and paintings. Paînotmû II. had been placed within this chamber
in the XVIth year of the reign of Psiûkhannît II., and several members of
his family had been placed beside him not long afterwards. Aûpûti soon
transferred thither the batch of mummies which, in the chapel of Amenôthes
I., had been awaiting a more definite sepulture; the coffins, with what
remained of their funerary furniture, were huddled together in disorder.
The chamber having been filled up to the roof, the remaining materials,
consisting of coffers, boxes of Ushabti, Canopic jars, garlands,
together with the belongings of priestly mummies, were arranged along the
passage; when the place was full, the entrance was walled up, the well
filled, and its opening so dexterously covered that it remained concealed
until-our own time. The accidental “sounding” of some pillaging Arabs
revealed the place as far back as 1872, but it was not until ten years
later (1881) that the Pharaohs once more saw the light. They are now
enthroned—who can say for how many years longer? —in the
chambers of the Gîzeh Museum. Egypt is truly a land of marvels! It has not
only, like Assyria and Chaldæa, Greece and Italy, preserved for us
monuments by which its historic past may be reconstructed, but it has
handed on to us the men themselves who set up the monuments and made the
history. Her great monarchs are not any longer mere names deprived of
appropriate forms, and floating colourless and shapeless in the
imagination of posterity: they may be weighed, touched, and measured; the
capacity of their brains may be gauged; the curve of their noses and the
cut of their mouths may be determined; we know if they were bald, or if
they suffered from some secret infirmity; and, as we are able to do in the
case of our contemporaries, we may publish their portraits taken first
hand in the photographic camera. Sheshonq, by assuming the control of the
Theban priesthood, did not on this account extend his sovereignty over
Egypt beyond its southern portion, and that part of Nubia which still
depended on it. Ethiopia remained probably outside his jurisdiction, and
constituted from this time forward an independent kingdom, under the rule
of dynasties which were, or claimed to be, descendants of Hrihor. The
oasis, on the other hand, and the Libyan provinces in the neighbourhood of
the Delta and the sea, rendered obedience to his officers, and furnished
him with troops which were recognised as among his best. Sheshonq found
himself at the death of Psiûkhânnît II., which took place about 940 B.C.,
sole master of Egypt, with an effective army and well-replenished treasury
at his disposal. What better use could he make of his resources than
devote them to reasserting the traditional authority of his country over
Syria? The intestine quarrels of the only state of any importance in that
region furnished him with an opportunity of which he found it easy to take
advantage. Solomon in his eyes was merely a crowned vassal of Egypt, and
his appeal for aid to subdue Gezer, his marriage with a daughter of the
Egyptian royal house, the position he had assigned her over all his other
wives, and all that we know of the relations between Jerusalem and Tanis
at the time, seem to indicate that the Hebrews themselves acknowledged
some sort of dependency upon Egypt. They were not, however, on this
account free from suspicion in their suzerain’s eyes, who seized upon
every pretext that offered itself to cause them embarrassment. Hadad, and
Jeroboam afterwards, had been well received at the court of the Pharaoh,
and it was with Egyptian subsidies that these two rebels returned to their
country, the former in the lifetime of Solomon, and the latter after his
death. When Jeroboam saw that he was threatened by Rehoboam, he naturally
turned to his old protectors. Sheshonq had two problems before him. Should
he confirm by his intervention the division of the kingdom, which had
flourished in Kharû for now half a century, into two rival states, or
should he himself give way to the vulgar appetite for booty, and step in
for his own exclusive interest? He invaded Judæa four years after the
schism, and Jerusalem offered no resistance to him; Rehoboam ransomed his
capital by emptying the royal treasuries and temple, rendering up even the
golden shields which Solomon was accustomed to assign to his guards when
on duty about his person.*
This expedition of the Pharaoh was neither dangerous nor protracted, but
it was more than two hundred years since so much riches from countries
beyond the isthmus had been brought into Egypt, and the king was
consequently regarded by the whole people of the Nile valley as a great
hero. Aûpûti took upon himself the task of recording the exploit on the
south wall of the temple of Amon at Karnak, not far from the spot where
Ramses II. had had engraved the incidents of his Syrian campaigns. His
architect was sent to Silsilis to procure the necessary sandstone to
repair the monument. He depicted upon it his father receiving at the hands
of Amon processions of Jewish prisoners, each one representing a captured
city. The list makes a brave show, and is remarkable for the number of the
names composing it: in comparison with those of Thûtmosis III., it is
disappointing, and one sees at a glance how inferior, even in its triumph,
the Egypt of the XXIInd dynasty was to that of the XVIIIth.
It is no longer a question of Carchemish, or Qodshû, or Mitanni, or
Naharaim: Megiddo is the most northern point mentioned, and the localities
enumerated bring us more and more to the south—Eabbat, Taânach,
Hapharaîm, Mahanaîm,* Gibeon, Beth-horon, Ajalon, Jud-hammelek, Migdol,
Jerza, Shoko, and the villages of the Negeb. Each locality, in consequence
of the cataloguing of obscure towns, furnished enough material to cover
two, or even three of the crenellated cartouches in which the names of the
conquered peoples are enclosed, and Sheshonq had thus the puerile
satisfaction of parading before the eyes of his subjects a longer cortege
of defeated chiefs than that of his predecessor. His victorious career did
not last long: he died shortly after, and his son Osorkon was content to
assume at a distance authority over the Kharu.**
It does not appear, however, that either the Philistines, or Judah, or
Israel, or any of the petty tribes which had momentarily gravitated around
David and Solomon, were disposed to dispute Osorkon’s claim, theoretic
rather than real as it was. The sword of the stranger had finished the
work which the intestine quarrel of the tribes had begun. If Rehoboam had
ever formed the project of welding together the disintegrated elements of
Israel, the taking of Jerusalem must have been a death-blow to his hopes.
His arsenals were empty, his treasury at low ebb, and the prestige
purchased by David’s victories was effaced by the humiliation of his own
defeat. The ease with which the edifice so laboriously constructed by the
heroes of Benjamin and Judah had been overturned at the first shock, was a
proof that the new possessors of Canaan were as little capable of barring
the way to Egypt in her old age, as their predecessors had been when she
was in her youth and vigour. The Philistines had had their day; it seemed
by no means improbable at one time that they were about to sweep
everything before them, from the Negeb to the Orontes, but their peculiar
position in the furthest angle of the country, and their numerical
weakness, prevented them from continuing their efforts for a prolonged
period, and they were at length obliged to renounce in favour of the
Hebrews their ambitious pretensions. The latter, who had been making
steady progress for some half a century, had been successful where the
Philistines had signally failed, and Southern Syria recognised their
supremacy for the space of two generations. We can only conjecture what
they might have done if a second David had led them into the valleys of
the Orontes and Euphrates. They were stronger in numbers than their
possible opponents, and their troops, strengthened by mercenary guards,
would have perhaps triumphed over the more skilled but fewer warriors
which the Amorite and Aramaean cities could throw into the field against
them. The pacific reign of Solomon, the schism among the tribes, and the
Egyptian invasion furnished evidence enough that they also were not
destined to realise that solidarity which alone could secure them against
the great Oriental empires when the day of attack came.
The two kingdoms were then enjoying an independent existence. Judah, in
spite of its smaller numbers and its recent disaster, was not far behind
the more extensive Israel in its resources. David, and afterwards Solomon,
had so kneaded together the various elements of which it was composed—Caleb,
Cain, Jerahmeel and the Judsean clans—that they had become a
homogeneous mass, grouped around the capital and its splendid sanctuary,
and actuated with feelings of profound admiration and strong fidelity for
the family which had made them what they were. Misfortune had not chilled
their zeal: they rallied round Rehoboam and his race with such a
persistency that they were enabled to maintain their ground when their
richer rivals had squandered their energies and fallen away before their
eyes. Jeroboam, indeed, and his successors had never obtained from their
people more than a precarious support and a lukewarm devotion: their
authority was continually coming into conflict with a tendency to
disintegration among the tribes, and they could only maintain their rule
by the constant employment of force. Jeroboam had collected together from
the garrisons scattered throughout the country the nucleus of an army, and
had stationed the strongest of these troops in his residence at Tirzah
when he did not require them for some expedition against Judah or the
Philistines. His successors followed his example in this respect, but this
military resource was only an ineffectual protection against the dangers
which beset them. The kings were literally at the mercy of their guard,
and their reign was entirely dependent on its loyalty or caprice: any
unscrupulous upstart might succeed in suborning his comrades, and the
stroke of a dagger might at any moment send the sovereign to join his
ancestors, while the successful rebel reigned in his stead.* The Egyptian
troops had no sooner set out on their homeward march, than the two
kingdoms began to display their respective characteristics. An implacable
and truceless war broke out between them. The frontier garrisons of the
two nations fought with each other from one year’s end to another—carrying
off each other’s cattle, massacring one another, burning each other’s
villages and leading their inhabitants into slavery.**
From time to time, when the situation became intolerable, one of the kings
took the field in person, and began operations by attacking such of his
enemy’s strongholds as gave him the most trouble at the time. Ramah
acquired an unenviable reputation in the course of these early conflicts:
its position gave it command of the roads terminating in Jerusalem, and
when it fell into the hands of Israel, the Judæan capital was blockaded on
this side. The strife for its possession was always of a terrible
character, and the party which succeeded in establishing itself firmly
within it was deemed to have obtained a great success.*
The encounter of the armies did not, however, seem to produce much more
serious results than those which followed the continual guerilla warfare
along the frontier: the conqueror had no sooner defeated his enemy than he
set to work to pillage the country in the vicinity, and, having
accomplished this, returned promptly to his headquarters with the booty.
Rehoboam, who had seen something of the magnificence of Solomon, tried to
perpetuate the tradition of it in his court, as far as his slender
revenues would permit him. He had eighteen women in his harem, among whom
figured some of his aunts and cousins. The titular queen was Maacah, who
was represented as a daughter of Absalom. She was devoted to the asheras,
and the king was not behind his father in his tolerance of strange gods;
the high places continued to be tolerated by him as sites of worship, and
even Jerusalem was not free from manifestations of such idolatry as was
associated with the old Canaanite religion. He reigned seventeen years,
and was interred in the city of David;* Abijam, the eldest son of Maacah,
succeeded him, and followed in his evil ways. Three years later Asa came
to the throne,** no opposition being raised to his accession. In Israel
matters did not go so smoothly. When Jeroboam, after a reign of twenty-two
years, was succeeded by his son Nadab, about the year 905 B.C., it was
soon evident that the instinct of loyalty to a particular dynasty had not
yet laid any firm hold on the ten tribes. The peace between the
Philistines and Israel was quite as unstable as that between Israel and
Judah: an endless guerilla warfare was waged on the frontier, Gibbethon
being made to play much the same part in this region as Ramah had done in
regard to Jerusalem. For the moment it was in the hands of the
Philistines, and in the second year of his reign Nadab had gone to lay
siege to it in force, when he was assassinated in his tent by one of his
captains, a certain Baasha, son of Ahijah, of the tribe of Issachar: the
soldiers proclaimed the assassin king, and the people found themselves
powerless to reject the nominee of the army.***
Baasha pressed forward resolutely his campaign against Judah. He seized
Eamah and fortified it;* and Asa, feeling his incapacity to dislodge him
unaided, sought to secure an ally. Egypt was too much occupied with its
own internal dissensions to be able to render any effectual help, but a
new power, which would profit quite as much as Judah by the overthrow of
Israel, was beginning to assert itself in the north. Damascus had, so far,
led an obscure and peaceful existence; it had given way before Egypt and
Chaldæa whenever the Egyptians or Chaldseans had appeared within striking
distance, but had refrained from taking any part in the disturbances by
which Syria was torn asunder. Having been occupied by the Amorites, it
threw its lot in with theirs, keeping, however, sedulously in the
background: while the princes of Qodshû waged war against the Pharaohs,
undismayed by frequent reverses, Damascus did not scruple to pay tribute
to Thûtmosis III. and his descendants, or to enter into friendly relations
with them. Meanwhile the Amorites had been overthrown, and Qodshû, ruined
by the Asiatic invasion, soon became little more than an obscure
third-rate town;** the Aramaeans made themselves masters of Damascus about
the XIIth century, and in their hands it continued to be, just as in the
preceding epochs, a town without ambitions and of no great renown.
We have seen how the Aramæans, alarmed at the sudden rise of the Hebrew
dynasty, entered into a coalition against David with the Ammonite leaders:
Zoba aspired to the chief place among the nations of Central Syria, but
met with reverses, and its defeat delivered over to the Israelites its
revolted dependencies in the Haurân and its vicinity, such as Maacah,
Geshur, and even Damascus itself.* The supremacy was, however, shortlived;
immediately after the death of David, a chief named Rezôn undertook to
free them from the yoke of the stranger. He had begun his military career
under Hada-dezer, King of Zoba: when disaster overtook this leader and
released him from his allegiance, he collected an armed force and fought
for his own hand. A lucky stroke made him master of Damascus: he
proclaimed himself king there, harassed the Israelites with impunity
during the reign of Solomon, and took over the possessions of the kings of
Zoba in the valleys of the Litany and the Orontes.** The rupture between
the houses of Israel and Judah removed the only dangerous rival from his
path, and Damascus became the paramount power in Southern and Central
Palestine. While Judah and Israel wasted their strength in fratricidal
struggles, Tabrimmon, and after him Benhadad I., gradually extended their
territory in Coele-Syria;*** they conquered Hamath, and the desert valleys
which extend north-eastward in the direction of the Euphrates, and forced
a number of the Hittite kings to render them homage.
They had concluded an alliance with Jeroboam as soon as he established his
separate kingdom, and maintained the treaty with his successors, Nadab and
Baasha. Asa collected all the gold and silver which was left in the temple
of Jerusalem and in his own palace, and sent it to Benhadad, saying,
“There is a league between me and thee, between thy father and my father:
behold, I have sent unto thee a present of silver and gold; go, break thy
league with Baasha, King of Israel, that he may depart from me.” It would
seem that Baasha, in his eagerness to complete the fortifications of
Ramah, had left his northern frontier undefended. Benhadad accepted the
proposal and presents of the King of Judah, invaded Galilee, seized the
cities of Ijôn, Dan, and Abel-beth-Maacah, which defended the upper
reaches of the Jordan and the Litany, the lowlands of Genesareth, and all
the land of Naphtali. Baasha hastily withdrew from Judah, made terms with
Benhadad, and settled down in Tirzah for the remainder of his reign;* Asa
demolished Eamah, and built the strongholds of Gebah and Mizpah from its
ruins.** Benhadad retained the territory he had acquired, and exercised a
nominal sovereignty over the two Hebrew kingdoms. Baasha, like Jeroboam,
failed to found a lasting dynasty; his son Blah met with the same fate at
the hands of Zimri which he himself had meted out to Nadab. As on the
former occasion, the army was encamped before Gibbethon, in the country of
the Philistines, when the tragedy took place.
Elah was at Tirzah, “drinking himself drunk in the house of Arza, which
was over the household;” Zimri, who was “captain of half his chariots,”
left his post at the front, and assassinated him as he lay intoxicated.
The whole family of Baasha perished in the subsequent confusion, but the
assassin only survived by seven days the date of his crime. When the
troops which he had left behind him in camp heard of what had occurred,
they refused to accept him as king, and, choosing Omri in his place,
marched against Tirzah. Zimri, finding it was impossible either to win
them over to his side or defeat them, set fire to the palace, and perished
in the flames. His death did not, however, restore peace to Israel; while
one-half of the tribes approved the choice of the army, the other flocked
to the standard of Tibni, son of Ginath. War raged between the two
factions for four years, and was only ended by the death—whether
natural or violent we do not know—of Tibni and his brother Joram.*
Two dynasties had thus arisen in Israel, and had been swept away by
revolutionary outbursts, while at Jerusalem the descendants of David
followed one another in unbroken succession. Asa outlived Nadab by eleven
years, and we hear nothing of his relations with the neighbouring states
during the latter part of his reign. We are merely told that his zeal in
the service of the Lord was greater than had been shown by any of his
predecessors. He threw down the idols, expelled their priests, and
persecuted all those who practised the ancient religions. His grandmother
Maacah “had made an abominable image for an asherah;” he cut it down, and
burnt it in the valley of the Kedron, and deposed her from the supremacy
in the royal household which she had held for three generations. He is,
therefore, the first of the kings to receive favourable mention from the
orthodox chroniclers of later times, and it is stated that he “did that
which was right in the eyes of the Lord, as did David his father.” * Omri
proved a warlike monarch, and his reign, though not a long one, was
signalised by a decisive crisis in the fortunes of Israel.** The northern
tribes had, so far, possessed no settled capital, Shechem, Penuel, and
Tirzah having served in turn as residences for the successors of Jeroboam
and Baasha. Latterly Tirzah had been accorded a preference over its
rivals; but Zimri had burnt the castle there, and the ease with which it
had been taken and retaken was not calculated to reassure the head of the
new dynasty. Omri turned his attention to a site lying a little to the
north-west of Shechem and Mount Ebal, and at that time partly covered by
the hamlet of Shomerôn or Shimrôn—our modern Samaria.***
His choice was a wise and judicious one, as the rapid development of the
city soon proved. It lay on the brow of a rounded hill, which rose in the
centre of a wide and deep depression, and was connected by a narrow ridge
with the surrounding mountains. The valley round it is fertile and well
watered, and the mountains are cultivated up to their summits; throughout
the whole of Ephraim it would have been difficult to find a site which
could compare with it in strength or attractiveness. Omri surrounded his
city with substantial ramparts; he built a palace for himself, and a
temple in which was enthroned a golden calf similar to those at Dan and
Bethel.* A population drawn from other nations besides the Israelites
flocked into this well-defended stronghold, and Samaria soon came to be
for Israel what Jerusalem already was for Judah, an almost impregnable
fortress, in which the sovereign entrenched himself, and round which the
nation could rally in times of danger. His contemporaries fully realised
the importance of this move on Omri’s part; his name became inseparably
connected in their minds with that of Israel. Samaria and the house of
Joseph were for them, henceforth, the house of Omri, Bît-Omri, and the
name still clung to them long after Omri had died and his family had
become extinct.**
He gained the supremacy over Judah, and forced several of the
south-western provinces, which had been in a state of independence since
the days of Solomon, to acknowledge his rule; he conquered the country of
Medeba, vanquished Kamoshgad, King of Moab, and imposed on him a heavy
tribute in sheep and wool.* Against Benhadad in the north-west he was less
fortunate. He was forced to surrender to him several of the cities of
Gilead—among others Bamoth-gilead, which commanded the fords over
the Jabbok and Jordan.**
He even set apart a special quarter in Samaria for the natives of
Damascus, where they could ply their trades and worship their gods without
interference. It was a kind of semi-vassalage, from which he was powerless
to free himself unaided: he realised this, and looked for help from
without; he asked and obtained the hand of Jezebel, daughter of Bthbaal,
King of the Sidonians, for Ahab, his heir. Hiram I., the friend of David,
had carried the greatness of Tyre to its highest point; after his death,
the same spirit of discord which divided the Hebrews made its appearance
in Phoenicia. The royal power was not easily maintained over this race of
artisans and sailors: Baalbazer, son of Hiram, reigned for six years, and
his successor, Abdastart, was killed in a riot after a still briefer
enjoyment of power. We know how strong was the influence exercised by
foster-mothers in the great families of the Bast; the four sons of
Abda-start’s nurse assassinated their foster-brother, and the eldest of
them usurped his crown. Supported by the motley crowd of slaves and
adventurers which filled the harbours of Phoenicia, they managed to cling
to power for twelve years. Their stupid and brutal methods of government
produced most disastrous results. A section of the aristocracy emigrated
to the colonies across the sea and incited them to rebellion; had this
state of things lasted for any time, the Tyrian empire would have been
doomed. A revolution led to the removal of the usurper and the restoration
of the former dynasty, but did not bring back to the unfortunate city the
tranquillity which it sorely needed. The three surviving sons of
Baalbezer, Methuastarfc, Astarym, and Phelles followed one another on the
throne in rapid succession, the last-named perishing by the hand of his
cousin Ethbaal, after a reign of eight months. So far, the Israelites had
not attempted to take advantage of these dissensions, but there was always
the danger lest one of their kings, less absorbed than his predecessors in
the struggle with Judah, might be tempted by the wealth of Phoenicia to
lay hands on it. Ethbaal, therefore, eagerly accepted the means of
averting this danger by an alliance with the new dynasty offered to him by
Omri.*
The presence of a Phonician princess at Samaria seems to have had a
favourable effect on the city and its inhabitants. The tribes of Northern
and Central Palestine had, so far, resisted the march of material
civilization which, since the days of Solomon, had carried Judah along
with it; they adhered, as a matter of principle, to the rude and simple
customs of their ancestors. Jezebel, who from her cradle had been
accustomed to all the luxuries and refinements of the Phoenician court,
was by no means prepared to dispense with them in her adopted country. By
their contact with her, the Israelites—at any rate, the upper and
middle classes of them—acquired a certain degree of polish; the
royal office assumed a more dignified exterior, and approached more nearly
the splendours of the other Syrian monarchies, such as those of Damascus,
Hamath, Sidon, Tyre, and even Judah.
Unfortunately, the effect of this material progress was marred by a
religious difficulty. Jezebel had been brought up by her father, the high
priest of the Sidonian Astarte, as a rigid believer in his faith, and she
begged Ahab to permit her to celebrate openly the worship of her national
deities. Ere long the Tyrian Baal was installed at Samaria with his
asherah, and his votaries had their temples and sacred groves to worship
in: their priests and prophets sat at the king’s table. Ahab did not
reject the God of his ancestors in order to embrace the religion of his
wife—a reproach which was afterwards laid to his door; he remained
faithful to Him, and gave the children whom he had by Jezebel names
compounded with that of Jahveh, such as Ahaziah, Joram, and Athaliah.*
This was not the first instance of such tolerance in the history of the
Israelites: Solomon had granted a similar liberty of conscience to all his
foreign wives, and neither Rehoboam nor Abijam had opposed Maacah in her
devotion to the Canaanitish idols. But the times were changing, and the
altar of Baal could no longer be placed side by side with that of Jahveh
without arousing fierce anger and inexorable hatred. Scarce a hundred
years had elapsed since the rupture between the tribes, and already
one-half of the people were unable to understand how place could be found
in the breast of a true Israelite for any other god but Jahveh: Jahveh
alone was Lord, for none of the deities worshipped by foreign races under
human or animal shapes could compare with Him in might and holiness. From
this to the repudiation of all those practices associated with exotic
deities, such as the use of idols of wood or metal, the anointing of
isolated boulders or circles of rocks, the offering up of prisoners or of
the firstborn, was but a step: Asa had already furnished an example of
rigid devotion in Judah, and there were many in Israel who shared his
views and desired to imitate him. The opposition to what was regarded as
apostasy on the part of the king did not come from the official
priesthood; the sanctuaries at Dan, at Bethel, at Shiloh, and at Gilgal
were prosperous in spite of Jezebel, and this was enough for them. But the
influence of the prophets had increased marvellously since the rupture
between the kingdoms, and at the very beginning of his reign Ahab was
unwise enough to outrage their sense of justice by one of his violent
acts: in a transport of rage he had slain a certain Naboth, who had
refused to let him have his vineyard in order that he might enlarge the
grounds of the palace he was building for himself at Jezreel.* The
prophets, as in former times, were divided into schools, the head of each
being called its father, the members bearing the title of “the sons of the
prophets;” they dwelt in a sort of monastery, each having his own cell,
where they ate together, performed their devotional exercises or assembled
to listen to the exhortations of their chief prophets:** nor did their
sacred office prevent them from marrying.***
As a rule, they settled near one of the temples, and lived there on
excellent terms with the members of the regular priesthood. Accompanied by
musical instruments, they chanted the songs in which the poets of other
days extolled the mighty deeds of Jahveh, and obtained from this source
the incidents of the semi-religious accounts which they narrated
concerning the early history of the people; or, when the spirit moved
them, they went about through the land prophesying, either singly, or
accompanied by a disciple, or in bands.* The people thronged round them to
listen to their hymns or their stories of the heroic age: the great ones
of the land, even kings themselves, received visits from them, and endured
their reproaches or exhortations with mingled feelings of awe and terror.
A few of the prophets took the part of Ahab and Jezebel,** but the
majority declared against them, and of these, the most conspicuous, by his
forcibleness of speech and action, was Elijah. We do not know of what race
or family he came, nor even what he was:*** the incidents of his life
which have come down to us seem to be wrapped in a vague legendary
grandeur. He appears before Ahab, and tells him that for years to come no
rain or dew shall fall on the earth save by his command, and then takes
flight into the desert in order to escape the king’s anger.
He is there ministered unto by ravens, which bring him bread and meat
every night and morning. When the spring from which he drinks dries up, he
goes to the house of a widow at Zarephath in the country of Sidon, and
there he lives with his hostess for twelve months on a barrel of meal and
a cruse of oil which never fail. The widow’s son dies suddenly: he prays
to Jahveh and restores him to life; then, still guided by an inspiration
from above, he again presents himself before the king. Ahab receives him
without resentment, assembles the prophets of Baal, brings them face to
face with Elijah on the top of Mount Carmel, and orders them to put an end
to the drought by which his kingdom is wasted. The Phoenicians erect an
altar and call upon their Baâlîm with loud cries, and gash their arms and
bodies with knives, yet cannot bring about the miracle expected of them.
Elijah, after mocking at their cries and contortions, at last addresses a
prayer to Jahveh, and fire comes down from heaven and consumes the
sacrifice in a moment; the people, convinced by the miracle, fall upon the
idolaters and massacre them, and the rain shortly afterwards falls in
torrents. After this triumph he is said to have fled once more for safety
to the desert, and there on Horeb to have had a divine vision. “And,
behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the
mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was
not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in
the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in
the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. And it was so, when
Elijah heard it, that He wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and
stood in the entering in of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto
him, and said, ‘What doest thou here, Elijah?’” God then commanded him to
anoint Hazael as King of Syria, and Jehu, son of Nimshi, as King over
Israel, and Elisha, son of Shaphat, as prophet in his stead, “and him that
escapeth from the sword of Hazael shall Jehu slay: and him that escapeth
from the sword of Jehu shall Elisha slay.” The sacred writings go on to
tell us that the prophet who had held such close converse with the Deity
was exempt from the ordinary laws of humanity, and was carried to heaven
in a chariot of fire. The account that has come down to us shows the
impression of awe left by Elijah on the spirit of his age.*
Ahab was one of the most warlike among the warrior-kings of Israel. He
ruled Moab with a strong hand,** kept Judah in subjection,*** and in his
conflict with Damascus experienced alternately victory and honourable
defeat. Hadadidri [Hadadezer], of whom the Hebrew historians make a second
Benhadad,**** had succeeded the conqueror of Baasha.^
The account of his campaigns in the Hebrew records has only reached us in
a seemingly condensed and distorted condition. Israel, strengthened by the
exploits of Omri, must have offered him a strenuous resistance, but we
know nothing of the causes, nor of the opening scenes of the drama. When
the curtain is lifted, the preliminary conflict is over, and the
Israelites, closely besieged in Samaria, have no alternative before them
but unconditional surrender. This was the first serious attack the city
had sustained, and its resistance spoke well for the military foresight of
its founder. In Benhadad’s train were thirty-two kings, and horses and
chariots innumerable, while his adversary could only oppose to them seven
thousand men. Ahab was willing to treat, but the conditions proposed were
so outrageous that he broke off the negotiations. We do not know how long
the blockade had lasted, when one day the garrison made a sortie in full
daylight, and fell upon the Syrian camp; the enemy were panic-stricken,
and Benhadad with difficulty escaped on horseback with a handful of men.
He resumed hostilities in the following year, but instead of engaging the
enemy in the hill-country of Ephraim, where his superior numbers brought
him no advantage, he deployed his lines on the plain of Jezreel, near the
town of Aphek. His servants had counselled him to change his tactics: “The
God of the Hebrews is a God of the hills, therefore they were stronger
than we; but let us fight against them in the plain, and surely we shall
be stronger than they.” The advice, however, proved futile, for he
sustained on the open plain a still more severe defeat than he had met
with in the mountains, and the Hebrew historians affirm that he was taken
prisoner during the pursuit. The power of Damascus was still formidable,
and the captivity of its king had done little to bring the war to an end;
Ahab, therefore, did not press his advantage, but received the Syrian
monarch “as a brother,” and set him at liberty after concluding with him
an offensive and defensive alliance. Israel at this time recovered
possession of some of the cities which had been lost under Baasha and
Omri, and the Israelites once more enjoyed the right to occupy a
particular quarter of Damascus. According to the Hebrew account, this was
the retaliation they took for their previous humiliations. It is further
stated, in relation to this event, that a certain man of the sons of the
prophets, speaking by the word of the Lord, bade one of his companions
smite him. Having received a wound, he disguised himself with a bandage
over his eyes, and placed himself in the king’s path, “and as the king
passed by, he cried unto the king: and he said, Thy servant went out into
the midst of the battle; and, behold, a man turned aside, and brought a
man unto me, and said, Keep this man: if by any means he be missing, then
shall thy life be for his life, or else thou shalt pay a talent of silver.
And as thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. And the King of
Israel said unto him, So shall thy judgment be; thyself has decided it.
Then he hasted, and took the headband away from his eyes, and the King of
Israel discerned him that he was one of the prophets. And he said unto
him, Thus saith the Lord, Because thou hast let go out of thy hand the man
whom I had devoted to destruction, therefore thy life shall go for his
life, and thy people for his people. And the King of Israel went to his
house heavy and displeased, and came to Samaria.” This story was in
accordance with the popular feeling, and Ahab certainly ought not to have
paused till he had exterminated his enemy, could he have done so; but was
this actually in his power?
We have no reason to contest the leading facts in this account, or to
doubt that Benhadad suffered some reverses before Samaria; but we may
perhaps ask whether the check was as serious as we are led to believe, and
whether imagination and national vanity did not exaggerate its extent and
results. The fortresses of Persea which, according to the treaty, ought to
have been restored to Israel, remained in the hands of the people of
Damascus, and the loss of Ramoth-gilead continued to be a source of
vexation to such of the tribes of Gad and Reuben as followed the fortunes
of the house of Omri:* yet these places formed the most important part of
Benhadad’s ransom.
The sole effect of Ahab’s success was to procure for him more lenient
treatment; he lost no territory, and perhaps gained a few towns, but he
had to sign conditions of peace which made him an acknowledged vassal to
the King of Syria.*
Damascus still remained the foremost state of Syria, and, if we rightly
interpret the scanty information we possess, seemed in a fair way to bring
about that unification of the country which neither Hittites, Philistines,
nor Hebrews had been able to effect. Situated nearly equidistant from
Raphia and Carchemish, on the outskirts of the cultivated region, the city
was protected in the rear by the desert, which secured it from invasion on
the east and north-east; the dusty plains of the Haurân protected it on
the south, and the wooded cliffs of Anti-Lebanon on the west and
north-west. It was entrenched within these natural barriers as in a
fortress, whence the garrison was able to sally forth at will to attack in
force one or other of the surrounding nations: if the city were
victorious, its central position made it easy for its rulers to keep watch
over and preserve what they had won; if it suffered defeat, the
surrounding mountains and deserts formed natural lines of fortification
easy to defend against the pursuing foe, but very difficult for the latter
to force, and the delay presented by this obstacle gave the inhabitants
time to organise their reserves and bring fresh troops into the field. The
kings of Damascus at the outset brought under their suzerainty the
Aramaean principalities—Argob, Maacah, and Geshur, by which they
controlled the Haurân, and Zobah, which secured to them Coele-Syria from
Lake Huleh to the Bahr el-Kades. They had taken Upper Galilee from the
Hebrews, and subsequently Perasa, as far as the Jabbok, and held in check
Israel and the smaller states, Amnion and Moab, which followed in its
wake. They exacted tribute from Hamath, the Phoenician Arvad, the lower
valley of the Orontes, and from a portion of the Hittites, and demanded
contingents from their princes in time of war. Their power was still in
its infancy, and its elements were not firmly welded together, but the
surrounding peoples were in such a state of weakness and disunion that
they might be left out of account as formidable enemies. The only danger
that menaced the rising kingdom was the possibility that the two ancient
warlike nations, Egypt and Assyria, might shake off their torpor, and
reappearing on the scene of their former prowess might attack her before
she had consolidated her power by the annexation of Naharaim.
END OF
VOL. VI.