THE LAND OF THE GIANTS.
"And we took all his cities at that time: there was not a city which we took not from them," &c.—Deut. iii. 4, 5.
Sixty cities in one small province! Can it be true? Has not the copyist erred in his arithmetic? Should it not be sixteen, or six? Does it not appear improbable? The province mentioned, Argob, is not more than thirty miles by twenty; and that within so limited a space there should be sixty cities, "besides unwalled towns a great many," can scarcely be accepted literally.
Now, it is a great blessing, for the confirmation of our faith in the truth of the Bible, and the silencing of those who delighted in making others to be of a doubtful mind, that the literal truth of the statement is fully established—not by a comparison of parallel passages; not by a new translation of the text; not by the testimony of ancient historians; but by the remains of the cities themselves. There are they in Argob, the oldest specimens of domestic architecture in the whole world.
English travellers have visited the wild land of the giants; they have penetrated into the rocky recesses of Argob; they have slept in the deserted homes of the Rephaim; and have come back to tell us that the stones reared by those ancient idolaters bear witness to the truth of the living God.
The Rev. J. L. Porter spent a considerable time in exploring the cities of Bashan. At Burak he lodged in a city of several hundred houses, all deserted, but all in good repair, though built two or three thousand years ago. The walls of these houses were five feet thick, formed of large blocks of hewn stone, put together without lime or cement of any kind. The roofs were formed of long blocks of the same black basalt, measuring twelve feet in length, eighteen inches in breadth, and six inches in thickness. The doors were stone slabs hung upon pivots formed of projecting parts of the slabs, working in sockets in the lintel and threshold; the windows were guarded with stone shutters—everything was of stone, as if the builders had designed each edifice to last for ever.
The cities have endured, but the inhabitants have fled. You pass the ruined gateway where stern warriors kept watch, and from whose towers the watchmen swept the country and signalled the coming of the foe. All is hushed. Rank weeds and grass, brambles and creeping plants, have overgrown the well-made roads; and in the massive houses, where once on a time happy groups assembled, and children shouted with joy, the fox and the jackal make their dwelling, while owls and daws take possession of the roof. Here is a city that must at one period have contained at least twenty thousand inhabitants. Once its streets were noisy and bustling, and the dealers made their shrewd bargains in the markets, while the grandees dwelt in their stone palaces, haughty of spirit, as if the slaves who waited on them were of another flesh than theirs. Here dwelt the giants, and after them Jews, and Greeks, and Romans, Saracens and Turks, each leaving memorials of their presence; but all gone—the whole abandoned to the wild birds and the beasts of prey. There are palaces with thorns and thistles growing in the chief room; there are temples with branches of trees shooting through the gaping walls; there are tombs festooned with the rich luxuriance of nature; there is everything to tell of desolation and decay.
You remember that we read in Joshua that the kingdom of Og, the giant, included all Bashan unto Salcah; and the Israelites took and occupied the whole land, from Mount Hermon unto Salcah. This is the frontier city of Bashan, and is one of the most remarkable in Palestine. There are about five hundred houses still remaining, a number of square towers, a few mosques, and a great old castle on the top of a hill. But the city, held at first by the giants, and at last by the Turks, has long been deserted, and the tread of horses on the paved street disturbs only a fox in its den or a wild bird in its nest. The castle hill is about three hundred feet in height, the base encircled by a moat. The building itself appears to have been of Jewish foundation, though it is probable that the site was occupied by a still older fortress. There is Roman masonry in the work, and the Saracens have added to the beauty, if not to the strength, of the structure; but though the exterior wall remains, the interior is choked with rubbish. The summit of the castle commands an extensive prospect—a varied, romantic, but wild scene of rugged rocks and luxuriant verdure, comprising no less than thirty deserted cities. On the right stretches Moab, on the left Arabia; behind, in terraced slopes, the hills of Bashan—a sad and solemn scene of utter desolation.