Story of the Bible Animals

The same metaphor is recorded in the second book of the same writer. Once it was employed by Mephibosheth, the lame son of Jonathan, when extolling the generosity of David, then King of Israel in the place of his grandfather Saul: "And he bowed himself, and said, 'What is thy servant, that thou shouldest look upon such a dead dog as I am?'" (2 Sam. ix. 8.) In the same book, chapter xvi. 9, Abishai applies this contemptuous epithet to Shimei, who was exulting over the troubled monarch with all the insolence of a cowardly nature, "Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king?" Abner also makes use of a similar expression, "Am I a dog's head?" And we may also refer to the familiar passage in 2 Kings viii. 13, Elisha had prophesied to Hazael that he would become king on the death of Ben-hadad, and that he would work terrible mischief in the land. Horrified at these predictions, or at all events pretending to be so, he replied, "But what, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?"

If we turn from the Old to the New Testament, we find the same contemptuous feeling displayed towards the Dog. It is mentioned as an intolerable aggravation of the sufferings endured by Lazarus the beggar as he lay at the rich man's gate, that the dogs came and licked his sores. In several passages, the word Dog is employed as a metaphor for scoffers, or unclean persons, or sometimes for those who did not belong to the Church, whether Jewish or Christian. In the Sermon on the Mount our Lord himself uses this image, "Give not that which is holy unto dogs" (Matt. vii. 6.) In the same book, chapter xv. 26, Jesus employs the same metaphor when speaking to the Canaanitish woman who had come to ask him to heal her daughter: "It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to dogs." And that she understood the meaning of the words is evident from her answer, in which faith and humility are so admirably blended. Both St. Paul and St. John employ the word Dog in the same sense. In his epistle to the Philippians, chapter iii. 2, St. Paul writes, "Beware of dogs, beware of evil workers." And in the Revelation, chapter xxii. 14, these words occur: "Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates to the city; for without are dogs, and sorcerers, … and murderers, and idolaters, and whomsoever loveth and maketh a lie."

That the dogs of ancient times formed themselves into bands just as they do at present is evident from many passages of Scripture, among which may be mentioned those sentences from the Psalms, wherein David is comparing the assaults of his enemies to the attacks of the dogs which infested the city. "Thou hast brought me into the dust of death; for dogs have compassed me, the assembly of the wicked have enclosed me." This passage will be better appreciated when the reader has perused the following extract from a recent work by Signor Pierotti. After giving a general account of the Dogs of Palestine and their customs, he proceeds as follows:—

"In Jerusalem, and in the other towns, the dogs have an organization of their own. They are divided into families and districts, especially in the night time, and no one of them ventures to quit his proper quarter; for if he does, he is immediately attacked by all the denizens of that into which he intrudes, and is driven back, with several bites as a reminder. Therefore, when an European is walking through Jerusalem by night, he is always followed by a number of canine attendants, and greeted at every step with growls and howls. These tokens of dislike, however, are not intended for him, but for his followers, who are availing themselves of his escort to pass unmolested from one quarter to another.

"During a very hard winter, I fed many of the dogs who frequented the road which I traversed almost every evening, and afterwards, each time that I passed, I received the homage not only of the individuals, but of the whole band to which they belonged, for they accompanied me to the limits of their respective jurisdictions and were ready to follow me to my own house, if I did but give them a sign of encouragement, coming at my beck from any distance. They even recollected the signal two years afterwards, though it was but little that I had given them."

The account which this experienced writer gives of the animal presents a singular mixture of repulsive and pleasing traits, the latter being attributable to the true nature of the Dog, and the former to the utter neglect with which it is treated. He remarks that the dogs which run wild in the cities of Palestine are ill-favoured, ill-scented, and ill-conditioned beasts, more like jackals or wolves than dogs, and covered with scars, which betoken their quarrelsome nature. Yet, the same animals lose their wild, savage disposition, as soon as any human being endeavours to establish that relationship which was evidently intended to exist between man and the dog. How readily even these despised and neglected animals respond to the slightest advance, has been already shown by Sig. Pierotti's experience, and there is no doubt that these tawny, short-haired, wolf-like animals, could be trained as perfectly as their more favoured brethren of the western world.

As in the olden times, so at the present day, the dogs lie about in the streets, dependent for their livelihood upon the offal that is flung into the roads, or upon the chance morsels that may be thrown to them. An allusion to this custom is made in the well-known passage in Matt. xv. The reader will remember the circumstance that a woman of Canaan, and therefore not an Israelite, came to Jesus, and begged him to heal her daughter, who was vexed with a devil. Then, to try her faith, He said, "It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs." And she said, "Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master's table." Now, the "crumbs" which are here mentioned are the broken pieces of bread which were used at table, much as bread is sometimes used in eating fish. The form of the "loaves" being flat, and much like that of the oat-cake of this country, adapted them well to the purpose. The same use of broken bread is alluded to in the parable of Lazarus, who desired to be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table, i. e. to partake of the same food as the dogs which swarmed round him and licked his sores.

LAZARUS LYING AT THE RICH MAN'S DOOR.

THE DEATH OF JEZEBEL.

The "crumbs," however liberally distributed, would not nearly suffice for the subsistence of the canine armies, and their chief support consists of the offal, which is rather too plentifully flung into the streets. If the body of any animal, not excluding their own kind, be found lying in the streets, the dogs will assemble round it, and tear it to pieces, and they have no scruples even in devouring a human body. Of course, owing to the peculiar feeling entertained by the Orientals towards the Dog, no fate can be imagined more repulsive to the feelings of humanity than to be eaten by dogs; and therein lies the terror of the fate which was prophesied of Ahab and Jezebel. Moreover, the blood, even of the lower animals, was held in great sanctity, and it was in those days hardly possible to invoke a more dreadful fate upon any one than that his blood should be lapped by dogs.

We lose much of the real force of the Scriptures, if we do not possess some notion of the manners and customs of Palestine and the neighbouring countries, as well as of the tone of mind prevalent among the inhabitants. In our own country, that any one should be eaten by dogs would be a fate so contrary to usage, that we can hardly conceive its possibility, and such a fate would be out of the ordinary course of events. But, if such a fate should happen to befall any one, we should have no stronger feeling of pity than the natural regret that the dead person was not buried with Christian rites.

But, with the inhabitants of Palestine, such an event was by no means unlikely. It was, and is still, the custom to bury the corpse almost as soon as life has departed, and such would ordinarily have been the case with the dead body of Jezebel. But, through fear of the merciless Jehu, by whose command she had been flung from the window of her own palace, no one dared to remove her mangled body. The dogs, therefore, seized upon their prey; and, even before Jehu had risen from the banquet with which he celebrated his deed, nothing was left of the body but the skull, the feet, and the hands.

SYRIAN DOG.

In Mr. Tristram's work, the author has recognised the true dog nature, though concealed behind an uninviting form: "Our watch-dog, Beirût, attached himself instinctively to Wilhelm, though his canine instinct soon taught him to recognise every one of our party of fourteen, and to cling to the tents, whether in motion or at rest, as his home. Poor Beirût! though the veriest pariah in appearance, thy plebeian form encased as noble a dog-heart as ever beat at the sound of a stealthy step."

The same author records a very remarkable example of the sagacity of the native Dog, and the fidelity with which it will keep guard over the property of its master. "The guard-house provided us, unasked, with an invaluable and vigilant sentry, who was never relieved, nor ever quitted the post of duty. The poor Turkish conscript, like every other soldier in the world, is fond of pets, and in front of the grim turret that served for a guard-house was a collection of old orange-boxes and crates, thickly peopled with a garrison of dogs of low degree, whose attachment to the spot was certainly not purchased by the loaves and fishes which fell to their lot.

"One of the family must indeed have had hard times, for she had a family of no less than five dependent on her exertions, and on the superfluities of the sentries' mess. With a sagacity almost more than canine, the poor gaunt creature had scarcely seen our tents pitched before she came over with all her litter and deposited them in front of our tent. At once she scanned the features of every member of the encampment, and introduced herself to our notice. During the week of our stay, she never quitted her post, or attempted any depredation on our kitchen-tent, which might have led to her banishment. Night and day she proved a faithful and vigilant sentry, permitting no stranger, human or canine, European or Oriental, to approach the tents without permission, but keeping on the most familiar terms with ourselves and our servants.

"On the morning of our departure, no sooner had she seen our camp struck, than she conveyed her puppies back to their old quarters in the orange-box, and no entreaties or bribes could induce her to accompany us. On three subsequent visits to Jerusalem, the same dog acted in a similar way, though no longer embarrassed by family cares, and would on no account permit any strange dog, nor even her companions at the guard-house, to approach within the tent ropes."

After perusing this account of the Dog of Palestine, two points strike the reader. The first is the manner in which the Dog, in spite of all the social disadvantages under which it labours, displays one of the chief characteristics of canine nature, namely, the yearning after human society. The animal in question had already attached herself to the guard-house, where she could meet with some sort of human converse, though the inborn prejudices of the Moslem would prevent the soldiers from inviting her to associate with them, as would certainly have been done by European soldiers. She nestled undisturbed in the orange-box, and, safe under the protection of the guard, brought up her young family in their immediate neighbourhood. But, as soon as Europeans arrived, her instinct told her that they would be closer associates than the Turkish soldiers who were quartered in the guard-house, and accordingly she removed herself and her family to the shelter of their tents.

Herein she carried out the leading principle of a dog's nature. A dog must have a master, or at all events a mistress, and just in proportion as he is free from human control, does he become less dog-like and more wolf-like. In fact, familiar intercourse with mankind is an essential part of a dog's true character, and the animal seems to be so well aware of this fact, that he will always contrive to find a master of some sort, and will endure a life of cruel treatment at the hands of a brutal owner rather than have no master at all.

The second point in this account is the singular local instinct which characterises the Dogs of Palestine and other eastern countries, and which is as much inbred in them as the faculty of marking game in the pointer, the combative nature in the bulldog, the exquisite scent in the bloodhound, and the love of water in the Newfoundland dog. In this country, we fancy that the love of locality belongs especially to the cat, and that the Dog cares little for place, and much for man. But, in this case, we find that the local instinct overpowered the yearning for human society. Fond as was this dog of her newly-found friends, and faithful as she was in her self-imposed service, she would not follow them away from the spot where she had been born, and where she had produced her own young.

This curious love for locality has evidently been derived from the traditional custom of successive generations, which has passed from the realm of reason into that of instinct. The reader will remember that Sig. Pierotti mentions an instance where the dogs which he had been accustomed to feed would follow him as far as the limits of their particular district, but would go no farther. The late Albert Smith, in his "Month at Constantinople," gives a similar example of this characteristic. He first describes the general habits of the dogs.

On the first night of his arrival, he could not sleep, and went to the window to look out in the night. "The noise I heard then I shall never forget. To say that if all the sheep-dogs, in going to Smithfield on a market-day, had been kept on the constant bark, and pitted against the yelping curs upon all the carts in London, they could have given any idea of the canine uproar that now first astonished me, would be to make the feeblest of images. The whole city rang with one vast riot. Down below me, at Tophané—over-about Stamboul—far away at Scutari—the whole sixty thousand dogs that are said to overrun Constantinople appeared engaged in the most active extermination of each other, without a moment's cessation. The yelping, howling, barking, growling, and snarling, were all merged into one uniform and continuous even sound, as the noise of frogs becomes when heard at a distance. For hours there was no lull. I went to sleep, and woke again, and still, with my windows open, I heard the same tumult going on; nor was it until daybreak that anything like tranquillity was restored.

"Going out in the daytime, it is not difficult to find traces of the fights of the night about the limbs of all the street dogs. There is not one, among their vast number, in the possession of a perfect skin. Some have their ears gnawed away or pulled off; others have their eyes taken out; from the backs and haunches of others perfect steaks of flesh had been torn away; and all bear the scars of desperate combats.

"Wild and desperate as is their nature, these poor animals are susceptible of kindness. If a scrap of bread is thrown to one of them now and then, he does not forget it; for they have, at times, a hard matter to live—not the dogs amongst the shops of Galata or Stamboul, but those whose 'parish' lies in the large burying-grounds and desert places without the city; for each keeps, or rather is kept, to his district, and if he chanced to venture into a strange one, the odds against his return would be very large. One battered old animal, to whom I used occasionally to toss a scrap of food, always followed me from the hotel to the cross street in Pera, where the two soldiers stood on guard, but would never come beyond this point. He knew the fate that awaited him had he done so; and therefore, when I left him, he would lie down in the road, and go to sleep until I came back.

"When a horse or camel dies, and is left about the roads near the city, the bones are soon picked very clean by these dogs, and they will carry the skulls or pelves to great distances. I was told that they will eat their dead fellows—a curious fact, I believe, in canine economy. They are always troublesome, not to say dangerous, at night; and are especially irritated by Europeans, whom they will single out amongst a crowd of Levantines."

In the same work there is a short description of a solitary dervish, who had made his home in the hollow of a large plane-tree, in front of which he sat, surrounded by a small fence of stakes only a foot or so in height. Around him, but not venturing within the fence, were a number of gaunt, half-starved dogs, who prowled about him in hopes of having an occasional morsel of food thrown to them. Solitary as he was, and scanty as must have been the nourishment which he could afford to them, the innate trustfulness of the dog-nature induced them to attach themselves to human society of some sort, though their master was one, and they were many—he was poor, and they were hungry.

EASTERN WATER-SELLER.

THE WOLF

Identity of the animal indisputable—its numbers, past and present—The Wolf never mentioned directly—its general habits—References in Scripture—its mingled ferocity and cowardice—its association into packs—The Wolf's bite—How it takes its prey—its ravages among the flocks—Allusions to this habit—The shepherd and his nightly enemies—Mr. Tristram and the Wolf—A semi-tamed Wolf at Marsaba.

There is no doubt that the Hebrew word Zeëb, which occurs in a few passages of the Old Testament, is rightly translated as Wolf, and signifies the same animal as is frequently mentioned in the New Testament.

This fierce and dangerous animal was formerly very plentiful in Palestine, but is now much less common, owing to the same causes which have extirpated the lion from the country. It is a rather remarkable fact, that in no passage of Holy Writ is the Wolf directly mentioned. Its name is used as a symbol of a fierce and treacherous enemy, but neither in the Old nor New Testament does any sacred writer mention any act as performed by the Wolf. We have already heard of the lion which attacked Samson and was killed by him, of the lion which slew the disobedient prophet, and of the lions which spared Daniel when thrown into their den. We also read of the dogs which licked Ahab's blood, and ate the body of Jezebel, also of the bears which tore the mocking children.

But in no case is the Wolf mentioned, except in a metaphorical sense; and this fact is the more remarkable, because the animals were so numerous that they were very likely to have exercised some influence on a history extending over such a lengthened range of years, and limited to so small a portion of the earth. Yet we never hear of the Wolf attacking any of the personages mentioned in Scripture; and although we are told of the exploit of David, who pursued a lion and a bear that had taken a lamb out of his fold, we are never told of any similar deed in connexion with the Wolf.

WOLVES ATTACKING A FLOCK OF SHEEP.

This animal was then what it is now. Seldom seen by day, it lies hidden in its covert as long as the light lasts, and steals out in search of prey in the evening. This custom of the Wolf is mentioned in several passages of Holy Scripture, such as that in Jer. v. 5, 6: "These have altogether broken the yoke, and burst the bonds. Wherefore a lion out of the forest shall slay them, and a wolf of the evenings shall spoil them." In this passage the reader will see that the rebellious Israelites are compared to restive draught cattle which have broken away from their harness and run loose, so that they are deprived of the protection of their owners, and exposed to the fury of wild beasts. A similar reference is made in Hab. i. 8: "Their horses also are swifter than the leopards, and are more fierce than the evening wolves." The same habit of the Wolf is alluded to in Zeph. iii. 3: "Her princes within her are roaring lions; her judges are evening wolves."

Individually, the Wolf is rather a timid animal. It will avoid a man rather than meet him. It prefers to steal upon its prey and take it unawares, rather than to seize it openly and boldly. It is ever suspicious of treachery, and is always imagining that a trap is laid for it. Even the shallow device of a few yards of rope trailing from any object, or a strip of cloth fluttering in the breeze, is quite sufficient to keep the Wolf at bay for a considerable time. This fact is well known to hunters, who are accustomed to secure the body of a slain deer by simply tying a strip of cloth to its horn. If taken in a trap of any kind, or even if it fancies itself in an enclosure from which it can find no egress, it loses all courage, and will submit to be killed without offering the least resistance. It will occasionally endeavour to effect its escape by feigning death, and has more than once been known to succeed in this device.

But, collectively, the Wolf is one of the most dangerous animals that can be found. Herding together in droves when pressed by hunger, the wolves will openly hunt prey, performing this task as perfectly as a pack of trained hounds. Full of wiles themselves, they are craftily wise in anticipating the wiles of the animals which they pursue; and even in full chase, while the body of the pack is following on the footsteps of the flying animal, one or two are detached on the flanks, so as to cut it off if it should attempt to escape by doubling on its pursuers.

There is no animal which a herd of wolves will not attack, and very few which they will not ultimately secure. Strength avails nothing against the numbers of these savage foes, which give no moment of rest, but incessantly assail their antagonist, dashing by instinct at those parts of the body which can be least protected, and lacerating with their peculiar short, snapping bite. Should several of their number be killed or disabled, it makes no difference to the wolves, except that a minute or two are wasted in devouring their slain or wounded brethren, and they only return to the attack the more excited by the taste of blood. Swiftness of foot avails nothing against the tireless perseverance of the wolves, who press on in their peculiar, long, slinging gallop, and in the end are sure to tire out the swifter footed but less enduring animal that flees before them. The stately buffalo is conquered by the ceaseless assaults of the wolves; the bear has been forced to succumb to them, and the fleet-footed stag finds his swift limbs powerless to escape the pursuing band, and his branching horns unable to resist their furious onset when once they overtake him.

WOLVES CHASING DEER.

That the Wolf is a special enemy to the sheep-fold is shown in many parts of the Scriptures, both in the Old and New Testaments, especially in the latter. In John x. 1-16, Jesus compares himself to a good shepherd, who watches over the fold, and, if the wolves should come to take the sheep, would rather give up His life than they should succeed. But the false teachers are compared to bad shepherds, hired for money, but having no interest in the sheep, and who therefore will not expose themselves to danger in defence of their charge.

This metaphor was far more effective in Palestine, and at that time, than it is in this country and at the present day. In this land, the shepherd has no anxiety about the inroads of wild beasts, but in Palestine one of his chief cares was to keep watch at night lest the wolves should attack the fold, and to drive them away himself in case they should do so. Therefore the shepherd's life was one which involved no small danger as well as anxiety, and the metaphor used by our Lord gains additional force from the knowledge of this fact.

THE WOLF.

A similar metaphor is used when Jesus wished to express in forcible terms the dangers to which the chosen seventy would oft be subjected, and the impossibility that they should be able to overcome the many perils with which they would be surrounded. "Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs among wolves" (Luke x. 3).

Mr. Tristram several times met wolves while he was engaged in his travels, and mostly saw solitary specimens. One such encounter took place in the wilderness of Judah: "On my way back, I met a fine solitary wolf, who watched me very coolly, at the distance of sixty yards, while I drew my charge and dropped a bullet down the barrel. Though I sent the ball into a rock between his legs as he stood looking at me in the wady, he was not sufficiently alarmed to do more than move on a little more quickly, ever and anon turning to look at me, while gradually increasing his distance. Darkness compelled me to desist from the chase, when he quietly turned and followed me at a respectful distance. He was a magnificent animal, larger than any European wolf, and of a much lighter colour."

Those who are acquainted with the character of the animal will appreciate the truthfulness of this description. The cautious prowl at a distance, the slow trot away when he fancied he might be attacked, the reverted look, and the final turning back and following at a respectful distance, are all characteristic traits of the Wolf, no matter to what species it may belong, nor what country it may inhabit.

On another occasion, while riding in the open plain of Gennesaret, the horse leaped over the bank of a little ditch, barely three feet in depth. After the horse had passed, and not until then, a Wolf started out of the ditch, literally from under the horses hoofs, and ran off. The animal had been crouching under the little bank, evidently watching for some cows and calves which were grazing at a short distance, under the charge of a Bedouin boy. The same author mentions that one of the monks belonging to the monastery at Marsaba had contrived to render a Wolf almost tame. Every evening at six o'clock the Wolf came regularly across the ravine, ate a piece of bread, and then went back again. With the peculiar jealousy of all tamed animals, the Wolf would not suffer any of his companions to partake of his good fortune. Several of them would sometimes accompany him, but as soon as they came under the wall of the monastery he always drove them away.

WOLVES ATTACKING WILD GOATS.

The inhabitants of Palestine say that the Wolves of that country hunt singly, or at most in little packs of few in number. Still they dread the animal exceedingly on account of the damage it inflicts upon their flocks of sheep and goats.

THE JACKAL.

THE FOX OR JACKAL

The two animals comprehended under one name—The Jackal—its numbers in ancient and modern Palestine—General habits of the Jackal—Localities where the Jackal is found—Samson, and the three hundred "foxes"—Popular objections to the narrative—The required number easily obtained—Signor Pierotti's remarks upon the Jackal—An unpleasant position—How the fields were set on fire—The dread of fire inherent in wild beasts—The truth of the narrative proved—The Fox and Jackal destructive among grapes