the manner in which it knows how to receive an ingenuous and
simple-hearted act of confidence. As in the fields Boaz did not
ostentatiously urge alms upon the timid maiden, but suffered her
to have the pleasure of gleaning for herself, so now he treats this
act by which she throws herself upon his protection as an honor
done to him, for which he is bound to be grateful. He hastens to
assure her that he is her debtor for the preference she shows him.
That courtesy and chivalric feeling for woman which was so strong a
feature in the character of Moses, and which is embodied in so many
of his laws and institutes, comes out in this fine Hebrew gentleman
as perfectly, but with more simplicity, than in the Sir Charles
Grandison of the eighteenth century. And so, at last, the lovely
stranger, Ruth the Moabitess, becomes the wife of the rich landed
proprietor, with the universal consent of all the people. "And
all the people that were in the gates and the elders said, We are
witnesses. The Lord make this woman that is come into thy house like
Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel."
From this marriage of the chivalrous, pious old man with the devoted
and loving Ruth the Moabitess, sprang an auspicious lineage. The
house of David, the holy maiden of Judæa and her son, whom all
nations call blessed, were the illustrious seed of this wedding.
In the scene at the birth of the first son of Ruth, we have a fine
picture of the manners of those days. "And the women said unto
Naomi, Blessed be the Lord which hath not left thee this day without
a kinsman, that his name may be famous in Israel. And he shall be
unto thee a restorer of thy life and a nourisher of thy old age:
for thy daughter-in-law, which loveth thee, and is better to thee
than seven sons, hath borne him. And Naomi took the child and
laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto it. And the women her
neighbors gave it a name, saying, There is a son born to Naomi, and
they called his name Obed; he is the father of Jesse, the father of
David."
In all this we see how strong is the impression which the _loving_
nature of Ruth makes in the narrative. From the union of this
woman so tender and true, and this man so gracious and noble and
chivalric, comes the great heart-poet of the world. No other songs
have been so dear to mankind, so cherished in the heart of high and
low, rich and poor, in every nation and language, as these Psalms of
David.
"It is that music to whose tone
The common pulse of man keeps time,
In cot or castle's mirth or moan,
In cold or fervid clime."
In the tender friendship of David for Jonathan, we see again the
loving constancy of Ruth in a manly form,--the love between soul
and soul, which was "wonderful, passing the love of women." In the
ideal which we form of Mary, the mother of Jesus, lowly, modest,
pious, constant, rich in the power of love and in a simple, trustful
faith, we see the transmission of family traits through generations.
Dante, in his "Paradise," places Ruth among the holy women who sit
at the feet of the glorified Madonna. The Providence that called a
Moabitish ancestress into that golden line whence should spring the
Messiah was a sort of morning star of intimation that He should be
of no limited nationality; that he was to be the Son of Man, the
Lord and brother of all mankind.
THE WITCH OF ENDOR.
What was a witch, according to the law of Moses, and why was
witchcraft a capital offense? A witch was the dark shadow of a
prophetess.
A prophetess was a holy woman drawing near to the spiritual world
by means of faith and prayer, and thus inspired by God with a
knowledge beyond the ordinary power of mortals. Her prophecies and
her guidance were all from the only true source of knowledge; the
spirits that attended her were true and heavenly spirits, and she
became a medium by whom the will of God and the perplexed path of
duty were made plain to others. A witch, on the contrary, was one
who sought knowledge of the future, not from the one supreme God,
but through all those magical charms, incantations, and ceremonies
by which the spirits of the dead were sought for interference in the
affairs of men. The guilt and the folly of seeking these consisted
in the fact that there was another and a legitimate supply for that
craving of the human heart.
Man is consciously weak, helpless, burdened with desires and fears
which he knows not how to supply or allay. Moses distinctly stated
to the Jews that their GOD was "_nigh_ unto them for ALL they
should call upon him for." The examples of holy men and women in
sacred history show that, even for private and personal griefs,
and intimate sorrows and perplexities, there was immediate access
to the gracious Jehovah, there were direct answers to prayer. Had
Hannah, in her childless longings and misery, sought a woman who had
a familiar spirit, she would have broken the law of the land, and
committed an act of rebellion against her King and Father. But she
went directly to God, and became a joyful mother.
Besides the personal access of the individual by prayer, there
were always holy mediums raised up from time to time in the nation,
who were lawful and appointed sources of counsel and aid. There
were always the prophet and prophetess, through whom there was
even nearer access to the guardian God, and we repeatedly read of
application made to these sources in case of sickness or sorrow or
perplexity. The high-priest, by virtue of his office, was held to
possess this power. Exactly what the Urim and Thummim were, the
learned do not seem to agree; it is sufficient to know that they
were in some way the instruments of a lawful mode appointed by God,
through which questions asked of the high-priest might be answered,
and guidance given in perplexing cases.
And now, on the other hand, as to the _witch_, and how her unlawful
processes were carried on, we get more help from one vivid, graphic
picture than by all the researches of archæologists. We therefore
give entire the singular and poetic story in the First Book of
Samuel.
"Now Samuel was dead, and all Israel had lamented him, and buried
him in Ramah, even in his own city. And Saul had put away those
that had familiar spirits, and the wizards, out of the land. And
the Philistines gathered themselves together, and came and pitched
in Shunem: and Saul gathered all Israel together, and they pitched
in Gilboa. And when Saul saw the host of the Philistines, he was
afraid, and his heart greatly trembled. And when Saul inquired of
the Lord, the Lord answered him not, neither by dreams, nor by Urim,
nor by prophets. Then said Saul unto his servants, Seek me a woman
that hath a familiar spirit, that I may go to her, and inquire of
her. And his servants said to him, Behold, there is a woman that
hath a familiar spirit at Endor. And Saul disguised himself, and
put on other raiment, and he went, and two men with him, and they
came to the woman by night: and he said, I pray thee, divine unto me
by the familiar spirit, and bring me him up whom I shall name unto
thee. And the woman said unto him, Behold, thou knowest what Saul
hath done, how he hath cut off those that have familiar spirits,
and the wizards, out of the land: wherefore then layest thou a
snare for my life, to cause me to die? And Saul sware to her by
the Lord, saying, As the Lord liveth, there shall no punishment
happen to thee for this thing. Then said the woman, Whom shall I
bring up unto thee? And he said, Bring me up Samuel. And when the
woman saw Samuel, she cried with a loud voice: and the woman spake
to Saul, saying, Why hast thou deceived me? for thou art Saul. And
the king said unto her, Be not afraid; for what sawest thou? And
the woman said unto Saul, I saw gods ascending out of the earth.
And he said unto her, What form is he of? And she said, An old man
cometh up; and he is covered with a mantle. And Saul perceived that
it was Samuel, and he stooped with his face to the ground, and
bowed himself. And Samuel said to Saul, Why hast thou disquieted
me, to bring me up? And Saul answered, I am sore distressed; for
the Philistines make war against me, and God is departed from me,
and answereth me no more, neither by prophets, nor by dreams:
therefore I have called thee, that thou mayest make known unto me
what I shall do. Then said Samuel, Wherefore then dost thou ask
of me, seeing the Lord is departed from thee, and is become thine
enemy? And the Lord hath done to him, as he spake by me: for the
Lord hath rent the kingdom out of thine hand, and given it to thy
neighbor, even to David: Because thou obeyedst not the voice of the
Lord, nor executedst his fierce wrath upon Amalek, therefore hath
the Lord done this thing unto thee this day. Moreover the Lord will
also deliver Israel with thee into the hand of the Philistines: and
to-morrow shalt thou and thy sons be with me: the Lord also shall
deliver the host of Israel into the hand of the Philistines. Then
Saul fell straightway all along on the earth, and was sore afraid,
because of the words of Samuel: and there was no strength in him;
for he had eaten no bread all the day, nor all the night. And the
woman came unto Saul, and saw that he was sore troubled, and said
unto him, Behold, thine handmaid hath obeyed thy voice, and I have
put my life in my hand, and have hearkened unto thy words which
thou spakest unto me: now therefore, I pray thee, hearken thou also
unto the voice of thine handmaid, and let me set a morsel of bread
before thee; and eat, that thou mayest have strength, when thou
goest on thy way. But he refused, and said, I will not eat. But his
servants, together with the woman, compelled him, and he hearkened
unto their voice. So he arose from the earth, and sat upon the bed.
And the woman had a fat calf in the house, and she hasted, and
killed it, and took flour, and kneaded it, and did bake unleavened
bread thereof. And she brought it before Saul, and before his
servants; and they did eat. Then they rose up, and went away that
night."
We do not need to inquire what a witch was, or why she was
forbidden, further than this story shows. She is placed here as
exactly the contrary alternative to God, in the wants and sorrows
of life. The whole tenor of instruction to the Jews was, that there
was no Divine anger that might not be appeased and turned away by
deep, heartfelt repentance and amendment. In the GREAT NAME revealed
to Moses, the Jehovah declares himself "merciful and gracious, slow
to anger, of great kindness, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and
sin,"--there is but a single clause added on the side of admonitory
terror,--"who will by no means clear the guilty." A favorite mode
in which the guardian God is represented as speaking is that he
"repenteth of the evil" he thought to do, in response to penitent
prayer.
Saul had broken with his God on the score of an intense self-will,
and he did not repent. The prophet Samuel had announced wrath, and
threatened final rejection, but no humiliation and no penitence
followed. In this mood of mind, when his fear came as desolation,
all the avenues of knowledge or aid which belonged to God's children
were closed upon him, and he voluntarily put himself in the hands of
those powers which were his declared enemies.
The scene as given is so exactly like what is occurring in our
day, like incidents that so many among us have the best reason for
knowing to be objectively facts of daily occurrence, that there
is no reason to encumber it with notes and comments as to the
probability of the account. The woman was a medium who had the power
of calling up the spirits of the dead at the desire of those who
came to her. She is not represented at all as a witch after the
Shakespearean style. There is no "eye of newt and toe of frog,"
no caldron or grimaces to appall. From all that appears, she was
a soft-hearted, kindly, cowardly creature, turning a penny as she
could, in a way forbidden by the laws of the land; quite ready to
make up by artifice for any lack of reality; who cast her line into
the infinite shadows, and was somewhat appalled by what it brought
up.
There is a tone of reproof in the voice of the departed friend: "Why
hast thou _disquieted_ me, to bring me up?" And when Saul says, "God
hath forsaken us, and will not answer," the reproving shade replies,
"Wherefore come to _me_, seeing God hath become thine enemy?" In all
this is the voice of the true and loyal prophet, who from a child
had sought God, and God alone, in every emergency, and ever found
him true and faithful.
This story has its parallel in our days. In our times there is a God
and Father always nigh to those who diligently seek him. There is
communion with spirits through Jesus, the great High-Priest. There
are promises of guidance in difficulties and support under trials to
all who come to God by Him.
In our days, too, there are those who propose, for the relief of
human perplexities and the balm for human sorrows, a recourse to
those who have familiar spirits, and profess to call back to us
those who are at rest with God.
Now, while there is no objection to a strict philosophical
investigation and analysis and record of these phenomena considered
as psychological facts, while, in fact, such investigation is loudly
called for as the best remedy for superstition, there is great
danger to the mind and moral sense in _seeking them as guides in our
perplexities or comforters in our sorrows_. And the danger is just
this, that they take the place of that communion with God and that
filial intercourse with him which is alone the true source of light
and comfort. Most especially, to those whose souls are weakened by
the anguish of some great bereavement, is the seeking of those that
have familiar spirits to be dreaded. Who could bear to expose to
the eye of a paid medium the sanctuary of our most sacred love and
sorrow? and how fearful is the thought that some wandering spirit,
in the voice and with the tone and manner of those dearest to us,
may lead us astray to trust in those who are not God!
The most dangerous feature we know of in these professed
spirit-messages is their constant tendency to place themselves
before our minds as our refuge and confidence rather than God. "Seek
us, trust us, believe in us, rely on us,"--such is always the voice
that comes from them.
In Isaiah viii. 19, the prophet describes a time of great affliction
and sorrow coming upon the Jews, when they would be driven to seek
supernatural aid. He says: "And when they shall say unto you, Seek
unto them that have familiar spirits, and to wizards that peep and
mutter; should not a nation seek unto their God? should the living
seek unto the dead? To the law, and to the testimony; if they speak
not according to this word, there is no light in them." The prophet
goes on to say that those who thus turn from God to these sources
of comfort "shall be hardly bestead and hungry, and shall fret
themselves."
All our observation of those who have sought to these sources of
comfort has been that they fall into just this restless hunger of
mind, an appetite forever growing and never satisfied; and as their
steps go farther and farther from the true source of all comfort,
the hunger and thirst increase. How much more beautiful, safe,
and sure that good old way of trust in God! The writer has had a
somewhat large observation of the very best and most remarkable
phenomena of that which is claimed to be spirit communion; she
does not doubt the reality of many very remarkable appearances
and occurrences; she has only respectful and tender sympathy for
those whose heart-sorrows they have consoled. But when this way
of guidance and consolation is put in the place of that direct
filial access to God through Jesus which the Bible reveals, it
must be looked upon as the most illusive and insidious of dangers.
The phenomena, whatever they are, belong to forces too little
understood, to laws too much unknown, that we should trust ourselves
to them in the most delicate, critical, and sacred wants of our life.
Better than all is the way spoken of by Jesus when he, the
Comforter, Guide, Teacher, Friend, will manifest himself to the
faithful soul as he does not to the world: "If a man love me, he
will keep my words, and my Father will love him, and we will come
and make our abode with him."
[Illustration: ESTHER THE QUEEN]
QUEEN ESTHER.
The story of Esther belongs to that dark period in Jewish history
when the national institutions were to all human view destroyed. The
Jews were scattered up and down through the provinces captives and
slaves, with no rights but what their conquerors might choose to
give them. Without a temple, without an altar, without a priesthood,
they could only cling to their religion as a memory of the past, and
with some dim hopes for the future. In this depressed state, there
was a conspiracy, armed by the regal power, to exterminate the whole
race, and this terrible danger was averted by the beauty and grace,
the courage and prudence, of one woman. The portrait of this heroine
comes to us in a flush of Oriental splendor. Her story reads like a
romance, yet her memory, in our very prosaic days, is embalmed as a
reality, by a yearly festival devoted to it. Every year the festival
of Purim in every land and country whither the Jews are scattered,
reminds the world that the romance has been a reality, and the woman
whose beauty and fascination were the moving power in it was no
creation of fancy.
The style of the book of Esther is peculiar. It has been held by
learned Jews to be a compilation made by Mordecai from the Persian
annals. The name of Jehovah nowhere occurs in it, although frequent
mention is made of fasting and prayer. The king Ahasuerus is
supposed by the best informed to be the Xerxes of Herodotus, and
the time of the story previous to the celebrated expedition of that
monarch against Greece. The hundred and twenty-seven provinces over
which he reigned are picturesquely set forth by Herodotus in his
celebrated description of the marshaling of this great army. The
vanity, ostentation, childish passionateness, and disregard of human
life ascribed to the king in this story are strikingly like other
incidents related by Herodotus.
When a father came to him imploring that he would spare one of his
sons from going to the war, Xerxes immediately commanded the young
man to be slain and divided, and the wretched father was obliged to
march between the mangled remains. This was to illustrate forcibly
that no human being had any rights but the king, and that it was
presumptuous even to wish to retain anything from his service.
The armies of Xerxes were not _led_ to battle by leaders in front,
but driven from behind with whips like cattle. When the king's
bridge of boats across the Hellespont was destroyed by a storm, he
fell into a fury, and ordered the sea to be chastised with stripes,
and fetters to be thrown into it, with the admonition, "O thou
salt and bitter water, it is thus that thy master chastises thy
insolence!" We have the picture, in Herodotus, of the king seated
at ease on his royal throne, on an eminence, beholding the various
ranks of his army as they were driven like so many bullocks into
battle. When the battle went against him, he would leap from his
throne in furies of impotent rage.
It is at the court of this monarch, proud, vain, passionate, and
ostentatious, that the story opens, with a sort of dazzle of Eastern
splendor. "Now it came to pass, in the days of Ahasuerus, which
reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, over an hundred and twenty
and seven provinces, that in those days, when King Ahasuerus sat on
the throne of his kingdom, which was in Shushan the palace, in the
third year of his reign, he made a feast unto all his princes and
his servants; the powers of Persia and Media, the nobles and princes
of the provinces, being before him: when he showed them the riches
of his glorious kingdom and the honor of his excellent majesty."
On the last seven days of the feast the royal palace is thrown open
to the populace of Shushan. The writer goes on to amplify and give
particulars: In the courts of the king's garden were couches of
gold and silver, on a pavement of colored marbles, with hangings
of white, green, and blue, fastened by cords of purple and fine
linen to silver rings in marble pillars. There was wine poured
forth in costly goblets of very quaint and rare device. Vashti,
the queen, at the same time made a feast to all the women in the
royal house which belonged to the king. In the year 1819 Sir Robert
Ker Porter visited and explored the ruins of this city of Shushan.
His travels were printed for private circulation, and are rare and
costly. They contain elegant drawings and restorations of the palace
at Persepolis which would well illustrate this story, and give an
idea of the architectural splendor of the scenery of the drama here
presented.
Of Shushan itself,--otherwise Susa,--he gives only one or two
drawings of fragmentary ruins. The "satyrs have long danced and the
bitterns cried" in these halls then so gay and glorious, though
little did the king then dream of that.
At the close of the long revel, when the king was inflated to the
very ultimatum of ostentatious vanity, he resolves, as a last
glorification of self, to exhibit the unveiled beauty of his Queen
Vashti to all the princes and lords of his empire.
Now, if we consider the abject condition of all _men_ in that day
before the king, we shall stand amazed that there was a woman found
at the head of the Persian empire that dared to disobey the command
even of a drunken monarch. It is true that the thing required was,
according to Oriental customs, an indecency as great as if a modern
husband should propose to his wife to exhibit her naked person.
Vashti was reduced to the place where a woman deliberately chooses
death before dishonor. The _naïve_ account of the counsel of the
king and princes about this first stand for woman's rights--their
fear that the example might infect other wives with a like spirit,
and weaken the authority of husbands--is certainly a most delightful
specimen of ancient simplicity. It shows us that the male sex, with
all their force of physical mastery, hold everywhere, even in the
undeveloped states of civilization, an almost even-handed conflict
with those subtler and more ethereal forces which are ever at the
disposal of women. It appears that the chief councilors and mighty
men of Persia could scarcely hold their own with their wives, and
felt as if the least toleration would set them all out into open
rebellion. So Vashti is deposed, _nem. con._, by the concurrent
voice of all the princes of the Medes and Persians.
Then comes the account of the steps taken to secure another queen.
All the beautiful virgins through all the hundred and twenty-seven
provinces are caught, caged, and sent traveling towards Shushan,
and delivered over to the keeping of the chief eunuch, like so many
birds and butterflies, waiting their turn to be sent in to the
king. Among them all a Jewish maiden, of an enslaved, oppressed
race, is the favored one. Before all the beauties of the provinces
Esther is preferred, and the crown royal is set upon her head. What
charmed about Esther was, perhaps, the reflection of a soul from her
beautiful face. Every one of the best class of Jewish women felt
secretly exalted by her conception of the dignity of her nation as
chosen by the one true God, and destined to bring into the world
the great prince and Messiah who should reign over the earth.
These religious ideas inspired in them a lofty and heroic cast of
mind that even captivity could not subdue. At all events there was
something about Esther that gave her a power to charm and fix the
passions of this voluptuous and ostentatious monarch. Esther is the
adopted daughter of her kinsman Mordecai, and the narrative says
that "Esther did the commandment of Mordecai, like as when she was
brought up with him." At his command she forbears to declare her
nationality and lineage, and Mordecai refrains from any connection
with her that would compromise her as related to an obscure captive,
though the story says he walked every day before the court of the
woman's house to know how Esther did, and what should become of her.
In these walks around the palace he overhears a conspiracy of two
chamberlains to murder the king, and acquaints Esther of the danger.
The conspirators are executed, and the record passes into the
Persian annals with the name of Mordecai the Jew, but no particular
honor or reward is accorded to him at that time. Meanwhile, a
foreign adventurer named Haman rises suddenly to influence and
power, and becomes prime minister to the king. This story is a sort
of door, opening into the interior of a despotic court, showing the
strange and sudden reverses of fortune which attended that phase of
human existence. Haman, inflated with self-consequence, as upstart
adventurers generally are, is enraged at Mordecai for neglecting to
prostrate himself before him as the other hangers-on of the court
do. Safe in his near relationship to the queen, Mordecai appears to
have felt himself free to indulge in the expensive and dangerous
luxury of quiet contempt for the all-powerful favorite of the king.