In a couple of hours we were entering Hebron by the narrow valley whose vine-clad hills have immortalised the Vale of Eshchol. We alighted at the door of the English Hospital, which is outside the town, and were warmly welcomed by the ladies, whose guests we were to be for the next two days.
Under the guidance of Dr. Patterson, the medical missionary, we visited the famous Mosque, but were only allowed to ascend the five outer steps. This even excited the anger of the wild boys and girls, who spat at us and cursed us as Pagan Franks. From one of the prayer holes in the marvellous outer wall which surrounds the cave of Machpelah we took out a paper, which had been placed there that morning by a Jewish mother. On it was written in a curious Judeo-Arabic dialect a prayer “to our Father Abraham that he would look upon her affliction and intercede with the Lord of Hosts that He would give her sons instead of daughters.” This desire for male children is common throughout Syria. As soon as the first son is born, the father drops his own name and is henceforward known as Abou Yusef—the father of Joseph—as the case may be, while the mother gains the respect and love of her husband in proportion to the number of sons she bears him. Daughters, as a rule, are of no account.
We looked with reverence and awe upon the ancestral burial-place of the Patriarchs. True, we could only gaze at the polished outer wall, but we knew that therein “was the one spot of earth which Abraham could call his own.” The pledge which he left of the perpetuity of his interest in “the land wherein he was a stranger” was the sepulchre which he bought with four hundred shekels of silver from Ephron the Hittite. Round this venerable cave the reverence of successive ages and religions has now raised a series of edifices which, whilst they preserve its identity, conceal it entirely from view. But there it still remains. Within the Mussulman mosque, within the Christian church, within the massive stone enclosure built by the kings of Judah, is, beyond any reasonable question, the last resting-place of Abraham and Sarah, of Isaac and Rebecca, “and there Jacob buried Leah,” and thither, with all the pomp of funeral state, his own embalmed body was brought from the palaces of Egypt.[3]
Hebron is a Moslem city containing about 18,000 inhabitants. About 600 Jews dwell in the lower end of the town. Fierce and wild, it is their boast that no Pagan Frank has built his house within their walls nor desecrated their holy shrine with his presence. Whether this bigotry will give place to tolerance under the softening influences exercised by the medical missionaries has yet to be proved. We were told that the people were becoming gradually gentler. To us they seemed fanatical and dangerous. There is no hotel in Hebron for travellers.
Thanks to our good friends the missionaries we were able to visit most of the places of interest round about. The neighbourhood abounds in traditions. To the north, a cave is pointed out as having been the abode of Adam and Eve for more than a hundred years. Farther south is the spot where Cain killed Abel, and there in the “Vale of Tears” Adam mourned for his murdered son, and close by the Father of all living was buried.
The history of Hebron, or El-Kalleel (the Friend of God), is particularly interesting. It is one of the oldest cities in the world, having been built seven years before Zoan or Memphis in Egypt (Num. xiii. 22). “Abram removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there an altar to the Lord” (Gen. xiii. 18). Later on Joshua smote it with the edge of the sword and destroyed it utterly; afterwards he gave it to Caleb for an inheritance, “because that he wholly followed the Lord God of Israel.” David reigned here seven years and a half. The murderers of Ishbosheth were hanged by the pool, which is still in existence. Rebellious Absalom made the city his headquarters. Centuries later it was taken from the Edomites by Judas Maccabees, but since 1187 it has been in the hands of the Moslems. To-day it is a picturesque stone town, the centre of commerce for the southern Arabs, who bring their wool and camels’ hair to the market. They also trade extensively in glass beads and leathern water-buckets.
We were sorry when our two days had expired, but alas! we had to say good-bye to our hospitable English friends, for time pressed; so waving a last farewell to the groups of deaconesses and servants, who had gathered at the door of the mission house, we turned our faces again towards Jerusalem. A couple of days in David’s city followed and then to Jericho, where we bathed in the mysterious Dead Sea, and in consequence were covered with salt crystals. Starting before sunrise, we were back again in Jerusalem at 9 A.M., and late in the same afternoon our little cavalcade, comprising Ameen, Bon Jour, Elizabeth and myself, rode out of the city on our way north.
For the next six days we lived almost entirely in the saddle from sunrise to sunset, sleeping at native hotels or convents, which had been previously arranged for by our faithful dragoman, whose careful attention to our needs cannot be too highly spoken of. Although the sun was hot, the roads rough, and even a shady nook could not always be found for our midday meal, we thoroughly enjoyed these long days in the drowsy air. Every hill and valley, plain and pool we passed on our route had been the scene of some more or less remarkable event recorded in the Scriptures, and as Ameen was well posted up in Bible history, and eager to impart his knowledge, we missed no place of interest. Travelling thus day by day, seldom meeting any human being, except an occasional shepherd or country woman, we had ample time for reflection, and it was easy enough to give the reins to one’s imagination, and ride with Joshua’s army through these silent vales, or watch the impetuous rush of the warriors up those bleak rocky hills, as with all the confidence of victory they stormed the cities which once stood there. Again from out of the past we could hear the blessings and curses thundered forth, and see the huge mass of people gathered together, as we galloped through the narrow valley with the towering sentinels, Gerizim and Ebal on either side. Or as we sat on Jacob’s well we could listen to the sweet voice of the Saviour talking to the poor woman of Samaria.
On we went through Nablous until we reached Mount Tabor, where on the top, in the Latin convent, we rested a couple of days. Thence to Tiberias, where we dismissed our faithful escort. Here we stayed with our friends Dr. and Mrs. Torrance, of the Free Church of Scotland Mission. Their house and hospital are built on the shores of the Lake of Galilee, and amid its charming scenery we passed a fortnight. One of our excursions took us to Gadara. Our tents were pitched on a green knoll in the midst of wild beetling crags, volcanic mountains, and tropical vegetation. We bathed by moonlight in one of the great natural sulphur springs hidden by immense hedges of oleanders. Striking our tents at five in the morning, we rode hard till twelve o’clock, when we reached one of the ancient giant cities. Here Dr. Torrance held an open-air medical mission. The poor people soon crowded round the Hakeem and were patiently examined, and medicines dispensed to those who needed them. It was a picturesque and pathetic scene, the kindly face of the white doctor, with the almost black natives, and hideously tatooed women and girls waiting anxiously for his verdict, firmly believing that his touch and medicines had miraculous power. As we rode through the city we were deeply impressed by its mighty ruins, which testified to the strength and culture of its founders. From Tiberias we went to Nazareth, staying a few days at the Protestant Orphanage; and then engaging two muleteers we set forth again, crossed Carmel, stayed the night in the comfortable German hotel built at its foot, then along the coast to Beyrout, stopping at Acre, Tyre, and Sidon—a five days’ journey. This route I should not recommend to those who dislike solitude and Eastern travel without the slightest Western comfort. Dr. and Mrs. Eddy, of the American Presbyterian Mission, received us very kindly at Sidon, as there turned out to be no hotel, though this town was by far the most flourishing we had seen. A large industrial school for boys, worked by the missionaries, was well attended, all kinds of trades were taught, the pupils eagerly and intelligently learning, and eventually going out well equipped to fight the battle of life.
We rested a few days at Beyrout (the Paris of Syria) under the shadow of the purple Lebanons. Here we dismissed our muleteers, for we were now in the region of railways and civilisation. Very early on a Monday morning we got into the train which was to take us to Damascus. The journey lasted ten hours, but it seemed like two, for the railroad is cut through the Lebanons, and the most exquisite scenery meets the eye the whole way. Towards four o’clock the train rushed screaming through the valley of the Barada (the Abana of Scripture), past smiling gardens, and drew up in the station of Damascus. It was a glowing afternoon, but the lovely green of the trees and the plash, plash, of the rapid rivers softened the glare of the domes and roofs of the houses, and gave relief from the dusty roads. In the evening we went up to the top of a hill overlooking “the mother of cities,” and sat down to enjoy the scene. How dreamlike it looked in the soft sunset! The brown bare mountains on one side, the pathless desert all round. Damascus, like an exquisite pearl set in a crown of emeralds, nestled surrounded by miles of waving green trees. No wonder that to the sun-baked Bedouin of the desert it is a paradise, or that Mahomet in first beholding it, turned back, saying, “I am not fit to enter.”