MOTORING IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden eastward; wherein he
placed man whom he had formed.
And the Lord God brought forth of the ground all manner of
trees, fair to behold, and pleasant to eat of: the tree of life
also in the midst of the garden and the tree of knowledge of
good and evil.
And a river went out of Eden to water paradise, which from
thence is divided into four heads.
The name of the one is Phison: that is it which compasseth all
the land of Hevilath, where gold groweth.
And the gold of that land is very good: there is found bdellium,
and the onyx stone.
And the name of the second river is Gehon: the same is it that
compasseth all the land of Ethiopia.
And the name of the third river is Tigris: the same passeth
along by the Assyrians. And the fourth river is Euphrates.
And the Lord God took man and put him into the garden of Eden to
dress it and to keep it.
GENESIS, ii: 5–15.
“Effendi, your _terumbil_ is ready.” Thus did a young Arab inform
me that the automobile which was to take us to Babylon was at the door
of the Carmelite monastery.
Barely have a few words so thrilled me as did these then pronounced by
the bronze-visaged son of the desert. They meant so much to me--far
more than the simple words would seem to imply. They meant that we were
at last near the final objective of our long and eventful journey;
that, in a few hours, we should be contemplating the world-famed ruins
of Babylon; that in, the short journey from the romantic capital of
Harun-al-Rashid to the historic city of Nebuchadnezzar we should
traverse a land which has long been celebrated in story and legend as
the cradle of our race.
When we attempted to cross the swaying pontoon bridge which separates
Bagdad proper from its old suburb on the right bank of the Tigris, we
found our passage blocked for a while by the heterogeneous crowd of men
and women and the long train of burdened donkeys and camels that were
headed for the shops and the bazaars of the old capital of the Caliphs.
But we welcomed this delay as it gave us an opportunity to study a
scene which, during our wanderings along the river front of the city,
had always possessed for us a special fascination.
Here were assembled the strange and varied craft for which the Tigris
is so noted. Among them was the steam side-wheeler which brings freight
and passengers from the port of Basra on the Shat-al-Arab. There were
also tugs and barges and lighters of other varieties of modern craft
familiar to people of the West. Scattered among these were numerous
mahailas, those primitive and picturesque boats so much used by the
Arabs in the navigable parts of the Tigris and Euphrates. With their
pointed prows, high masts, and lateen sails, they are not unlike the
dahabiyehs of the Nile or simplified forms of the fast-sailing felucca
and xebec once so much used by the pirates of Barbary. Alongside of
them were countless specimens of that long, canoe-shaped boat called
by the Arabs the _bellum_--which in the narrow canals in and
around Basra serves the same purpose as the gondola in Venice. The
_bellum_, to judge from certain bas-reliefs found among the ruins
of Nimroud, is but a slight modification of the type of boat which
Sennacherib employed in his fleet during his celebrated campaign
against the Elamits. But a far more singular craft than any of those
mentioned is the kufa. Its frame is woven of willows or the split
branches of the date palm and, like the Ark of Noah, is “pitched within
and without with pitch” which is procured from the hot, bitumen springs
of Hit, on the Euphrates. It is circular in form and looks like a
large cauldron with its brim turned inwards. Their great number at
Bagdad and the way which they are made to rotate among the other boats
are always sure to attract attention. They are used as ferryboats in
crossing the river and for carrying freight and passengers to and from
the city and the adjoining country. Herodotus tells us that, after the
city itself, these curious craft surprised him more than anything that
he saw in Babylon. In form and size they are similar to the coracle in
which St. Brendan is said to have made his famous voyage from Ireland
to America, long centuries before Columbus “to Castile and Leon gave a
New World.”
But few keleks are seen among the numberless boats that dot the Tigris
at Bagdad. The reason is simple. As soon as they arrive from Mosul and
Diarbeker their wooden frameworks are sold for fuel, for which they
fetch a good price, while the deflated skins are returned to the places
whence they came to be again used in the construction of other keleks.
Nowhere in the world can one see so great a variety of river crafts
as at Bagdad, or styles of vessels which have remained unchanged
for so many thousands of years. For here one finds everything from
the raftlike slow-floating kelek to the swift, surface-skimming
_glisseur_ which, with a powerful engine, is capable of making
a speed of more than forty miles an hour. The kelek and the kufa
represent the high-water mark of the shipwright’s achievements two
thousand years before our era, while the _glisseur_ is but one of
the many triumphs of the marine engineers of the twentieth century of
the era in which we live. Forty centuries separate the two creations
and yet they are both seen here side by side--one typifying the
changeless East and the other the ever-progressive West.
After the congested traffic on the bridge had diminished sufficiently
to allow us to pass, we took the stage road that leads to Hillah and
Babylon. There was nothing to detain us in West Bagdad for of the old
Round City of Mansur not a vestige is now visible. Many travelers make
a detour to get a near view of the noted Kazimayn mosque but, as the
fanatical Shiahs do not allow a Christian to enter this sacred shrine,
I was satisfied with the view I had had of it through my field glass
from the summit of the lofty old minaret of Souk-El-Ghazl.
Neither did we go to see that other lion on the western bank of the
Tigris--the much lauded tomb of Zobeide, who occupies so conspicuous
a place in _Thousand and One Nights_ and in many Arabian
chronicles. With the renowned Arabian queens Zenobia and the Queen
of Sheba, Zobeide will always live in story and legend as one of the
most prominent figures of the East. According to an Eastern tradition,
she shares with the mythical Sultana Scheherazade the honor of having
composed those fascinating tales known as “The Arabian Nights.” We did
not visit the crumbling monument which is said to contain her tomb, for
the simple reason that it has been proved beyond doubt that this was
never the last resting place of Harun-al-Rashid’s favorite wife and was
never considered to be so until nearly nine hundred years after her
death.
A few short hours after leaving the city of the Caliphs we were in the
heart of the broad alluvial plain of Babylonia. But there was little
to attract our attention except the countless mounds that dotted the
broad expanse of level land and covered all that remained of once
flourishing towns and cities. With the exception of a few palms here
and there along some old irrigating canal this extensive region was
almost as treeless as the desert sections of northern Mesopotamia.
Outside of an occasional reed hut or black tent--the humble homes of
Bedouin Arabs--we saw but few human habitations in a land that during
thousands of years was as thickly populated and as carefully cultivated
as Holland or the valley of the Rhine.
Once we met a small caravan of pilgrims coming from far-distant Mecca
and Medina. Although travel worn by their long journey through the
burning sands of Arabia they seemed, nevertheless, to be a very joyous
company. They were happy in the thought of having complied with the
precept of the Koran which requires that every one of the Faithful
shall, if at all possible, make a pilgrimage, at least once in his
lifetime, to the venerated shrines which enclose the Kaaba and the tomb
of the Prophet. Even
_The camels, tufted o’er with Yemen’s shells,_
_Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells_,
seemed to enter into the spirit of their cheerful and godly riders.
Among the green-turbaned hadjis I observed two whose means enabled
them to indulge in the luxury of genuine Arabian steeds. After the
delightful experience I had had with a pure-blooded Arabian horse when
traveling in the East many years ago, I have never been able to pass
one of these noble animals without scrutinizing it as closely as I
would a masterpiece of Raphael or Murillo. I do not know whether or
not these two horses had made the long journey to Mecca and return--a
distance of nearly fifteen hundred miles--but if they did, they failed
to show it, for they seemed as lively and as vigorous as if they had
been on the road but a few days. But this is one of the characteristics
of the true Arabian horse--its remarkable powers of endurance, even
when forced to travel long distances without food or water.[454]
Judging from their delicate forms, their well-fashioned heads, their
large beautiful eyes, their agile and supple movements, the two
steeds in question must have been bred from one or two of the five
pure-blooded races of horses for which, from time immemorial, Arabia
has been so celebrated.[455]
According to an Arabian legend, when God wished to create the horse He
called the South Wind to Him and said, “I wish to take from thy bosom a
new being. Condense thyself by depriving thyself of thy fluidity.” The
wind obeyed. The Lord then took a handful of that element, now become
malleable, breathed upon it and the horse was born. “You will be for
man,” the Lord then said, “a source of happiness and riches and he will
render himself illustrious by riding you.”
It is said that “the happiest events in the life of a Bedouin are the
births of a she-camel, of a son, and of a she-foal.” And so highly
does the Arab value his young colts, as well as his young camels, that
he cares for them as children and “the nearer on the social ladder he
stands to the real Bedouin” the higher rises his love for his horse.
Indeed, to judge by his actions at times, one would think that he
prefers his horse to his son. For when the camels are milked in the
evening the colts receive their regular supply of the lacteal fluid
before the children of the family. Not only this, but the true Arab
puts the care of his horse before his own ease. In the desert there is
a saying that “work which does not belittle a man is for his horse, for
his brother and for his guest.” Another saying among the Bedouins is
that “Allah has three great gifts for man--a good horse, a good wife
and a good blade.” Similar to this is the adage that “the greatest
blessings are a wise wife and a fruitful mare.”
How well the Bedouin is rewarded for his affectionate care of his horse
is a common theme of the stories and songs of the desert. For the
prized animal which occasionally exhibits almost human intelligence
fully reciprocates his master’s affection and serves him in danger and
out of danger with a loyalty that is proverbial and with an unswerving
devotion that never falters as long as strength and life endure.
But one cannot speak of the Arab’s horse without also saying something
of his intimate associate--the camel. So indispensable is the camel to
the Bedouin that, without it, it would be almost impossible for him to
continue his nomad life. For the hair of the animal supplies him with
clothing and tents while its milk is his principal article of food.
Hence, the significant proverb “God created the camel for the Arab and
the Arab for the camel.” Hence, also, the peculiar custom of speaking
of the camel as a “person.” Thus an Arab when enumerating his flocks
and herds will speak of so many “head” of sheep or cattle, but when
counting his camels will speak of them as so many “persons.”
According to a Bedouin legend, the camel and the date were fashioned by
Allah from the same clay from which Adam was formed. The same legend
declares that they were found with our first parents in the Garden of
Eden and that they will accompany man to the world beyond the tomb.
When young, the camel, like the colt, is regarded as a member of the
family. Like its companion, the colt, it is fondled as a child and
always treated with the most unremitting care. And so important a
position does it occupy in the life of the family and the clan in
Arabia, that the poets of the desert have from time immemorial vied
with one another in seeking suitable epithets for their inseparable
servant and associate. The number of these epithets, describing
and glorifying the camel, is no less than six hundred, while the
distinguished French traveler Chardin assures us that it is fully a
thousand.
And well may the Arab sing the praises of the animal to which he owes
so much, for it is to the patient, frugal, and laborious camel that he,
in great measure, owes his proud, uninterrupted independence during the
long ages of his country’s history. For, “without the camel, he must
have long since bowed his neck to a foreign yoke, sharing the fate of
those despised felahin who guide or draw the plow on the banks of the
Nile and the Orontes.”[456]
But while the much-praised camel is to the Arab fully as useful as the
horse--in many respects far more indispensable--he has, contrary to
general opinion, neither the docility nor the intelligence of the horse
and, notwithstanding all the care his master may have lavished upon
him, shows no interest in him whatever. Besides this, he is vindictive
to a degree, and that sooner or later he will seek revenge for some
real or fancied injury is so well known that the camel driver is always
on his guard against its malice and fury.
Palgrave, the adventurous explorer of central and eastern Arabia, who
had a rare opportunity of studying “the ship of the desert” in his
desert home, writes:
If docile means stupid, well and good; in such a case the camel
is the very model of docility. But if the epithet is intended
to designate an animal that takes an interest in its rider so
far as a beast can, that in some way understands his intentions
or shares them in a subordinate fashion, that obeys from a
sort of submissive or half fellow-feeling with his master,
like the horse and elephant, then I say that the camel is by
no means docile, very much the contrary; he takes no heed of
his rider; pays no attention whether he be on his back or not;
walks straight on when once set agoing, merely because he is
too stupid to turn aside; and then, should some tempting thorn
or green branch allure him out of the path, continues to walk
on in this new direction simply because he is too dull to turn
back into the right road.... In a word, he is from first to last
an undomesticated and savage animal, rendered serviceable by
stupidity alone, without much skill on his master’s part or any
coöperation on his own except that of an extreme passiveness.
Neither attachment nor even habit impresses him; never tame,
though not wide-awake enough to be exactly wild.[457]
Shortly after meeting the caravan from Mecca and Medina, we overtook
one going in the opposite direction. This was composed of pilgrims on
their way to the sacred shrines of Nejef and Kerbela--the holy cities
of the Shiites. A sorrier and more mournful crowd could not easily be
imagined. It was composed of Persian Shiites who were convoying their
dead to Kerbela and Nejef for burial. Among the departed were some
but recently deceased, while others had been dead for years and their
moldering remains had been exhumed for final interment in the sacred
ground in and around Kerbela and Nejef. There were no sumptuous funeral
cars for transporting this gruesome freight. Only jades and donkeys and
mules, all worn out by their long journey through the sandy desert. Nor
were there any costly caskets to enclose the remains of the dead. Far
from it. Some were wrapped in reeds and rugs while others were packed
in bags and baskets. In this condition they were slung from the backs
of the jaded pack animals which were conducted by friends or servants
of the deceased.
In Nejef are preserved the ashes of Ali, the husband of Fatima,
daughter of the Prophet of Mecca, while in the mosque of Kerbela is
the last resting place of his son, Husein. By his followers Ali was
considered the first legitimate Caliph and his sons Hasan and Husein
have ever since their tragic death been venerated as martyrs. It was
the dispute about the first lawful Caliph that occasioned the great
schism which divides the Moslem world into two sects: the Shiites,
who reject the first three Caliphs--Abu-Bekr, Omar, and Othman--as
usurpers; and the Sunnites, who recognize Ali as well as the three
Caliphs named, while they regard the Shiites as “forsakers of the
truth.” The Shiites include the Persians, besides whom they have a
large representation among the Mohammedans of India.
It is the ardent desire of every devout Shiite to be buried either in
Nejef or Kerbela, for the sacred soil of these places, so he firmly
believes, assures him of paradise. There is a cherished tradition
among the Shiites that Ali will be the first to rise on the day of the
general resurrection and that all who are interred in Nejef will rise
with him to a life of immortality and happiness.
This accounts for the countless thousands that are every year interred
in Nejef and Kerbela. The cost of the burial permits at these two
places is said to amount to nearly a million dollars a year, while the
number of pilgrims from Persia alone, who annually visit the shrines
of Ali and Husein is estimated at no less than sixty thousand souls.
In a preceding chapter we have seen that the pilgrims--nearly all of
whom are Sunnites--that yearly visit Medina and Mecca number fully two
hundred thousand. Considering, however, the relative populations of
Shiite and Sunnite countries, more pilgrims are found at the shrines of
Ali and Husein than at those of the Prophet and the Kaaba.
But, although both the great Moslem sects recognize Mohammed as their
prophet and have the greatest veneration for him, the most profound
hatred separates one from the other. The Shiites regard the Sunnites as
impure and detest them because of their association with Christians and
Jews, something which the followers of Ali consider intolerable.
Unlike the Sunnites, the Shiites, especially those in the valleys of
the Tigris and the Euphrates, lead a retired life and studiously avoid
relations with all except their coreligionists. Those of the well-to-do
class are, when at home, continually engaged in religious ceremonies
and conferences. On these occasions accounts are read of the tragic
deaths of Ali and his sons. So moved are all present that they express
their grief by sobs and lamentations. These reunions, which usually
last two hours, take place for the men in apartments specially reserved
for them and in the harem for the women. But the women are much more
demonstrative in their sorrow than the men, for so moved are they by
the recital of the cruel deaths of Ali and his sons that they utter
piercing shrieks, strike their breasts, and, when carried away by their
delirium, disfigure their faces with their finger nails.
But what is passing strange is that these ceremonies of mourning take
place on such occasions of rejoicing as a wedding or the birth of a
child. In a word, the Shiites are born, live, and die in the midst of
tears and moans and lamentations. The wailing of the Jews in Jerusalem
at the wall of the temple of their forefathers occurs but once a week,
while the dolorous reunions of the Shiites are far more frequent.
During the first ten days of the month of Moharrem and every day during
the pilgrimage to Nejef and Kerbela they are obligatory.[458]
But it is not my purpose in this chapter to give more than a cursory
glance at the present condition of Babylonia and its people. For,
during my wanderings in this historic land, my thoughts were rather
occupied with its myths and legends and, above all, with that
interesting and persistent tradition which, from time immemorial, has
here located the Garden of Eden--what the “Vulgate” calls the Paradise
of Pleasure and what is frequently known as the Terrestrial Paradise.
Of the many interesting subjects treated of in the book of Genesis,
few have received more attention from scholars and interpreters than
that which relates to the Terrestrial Paradise. Even in the early
days of Christianity men began to dispute about it. Some, among them
Origen[459] and St. Ambrose, not to mention others, inclined to the
opinion that the Genesiac account of the cradle of our race was
to be interpreted allegorically. Others, however, like St. Jerome
and St. Augustine,[460] maintained that the Scriptural narrative
regarding the Garden of Eden was to be interpreted literally. Even
at the present time Biblical students exhibit the same difference of
opinion respecting the words of the Sacred Text which relate to the
Garden of Paradise as was displayed by the writers and Fathers of the
primitive Church. Some favor an allegorical interpretation of the much
discussed narrative while others contend that we must adopt a literal
interpretation. “So concrete,” they hold with St. Augustine, “is the
description of the Terrestrial Paradise that one cannot allegorize it
without doing violence to the text.”
The eminent Assyriologist, Frederick Delitzsch, in an elaborate
study of this long vexed question, insists that “the Biblical record
of the Garden of Eden contains no indication of being fabulous or
extravagant, or enveloped in semi-obscurity. Neither need one hesitate
as to the sense, nor is one, for lack of clearness, obliged to read
between the lines. For the narrator the Garden of Eden, with its four
rivers, the Phison, the Gehon, the Tigris and the Euphrates, is a
manifest and well-known reality. He is in nowise obscure respecting
the meaning of the names of the Phison and the Gehon. Not only does
he know exactly their signification--as exactly as that of the Tigris
and the Euphrates--but he wishes to instruct his readers concerning
the subject. It is for this reason that he gives explanations and
elucidations which his readers can control.”[461]
But, notwithstanding the explicitness of the author of the second
chapter of Genesis, the localization of the Garden of Eden bristles
with many and grave difficulties. Ever since the days of Philo Judæus,
scholars have been seeking a solution of the problem, and, although
they have written countless books on the subject, the actual site of
the Terrestrial Paradise still remains a matter of uncertainty.
How diverse have been the views of learned men respecting the site
of Paradise is evinced by the fact that they have located it almost
everywhere on the earth, above the earth, and under the earth. Some,
following the Ptolemaic system of astronomy, have contended that the
home of the first parents was in the third heaven; others that it was
in the fourth; others still that it was in the heaven of the moon, or
in the middle region of the air, or in some hidden place far removed
from the knowledge of mortals. Others again with a great display of
erudition have attempted to prove that it was situated in Syria, or
Palestine, or Arabia, or Persia, or Armenia, or Assyria, or India,
or China, or Tartary. Still others, who were a little more specific
in their speculations, placed the Garden of Eden on the banks of the
Ganges, in the Canaries, or in Ceylon, or on the Mountains of the Moon,
where the Nile was supposed to have its source. Hebron, Jerusalem,
Damascus, and Babylon have each been considered as being on the
identical spot where our first parents were created and where they fell
from their high estate.
The Benedictine, Ralph Higden, who follows the opinion of some of
the Fathers of the Church, tells us in his _Polychronicon_ that
the Terrestrial Paradise is in an inaccessible region in Eastern
Asia. Gautier de Metz, in his _Image du Monde_, is in essential
agreement with the learned Benedictine as to the location of the
Garden of Eden. It is, he avers, surrounded by flames, and access
to it through its single gate is precluded by an armed angel who is
always on guard. Lambertus Floridus describes the primeval home of
our race as an island in the Eastern ocean--_Paradisus insula in
oceano in oriente_. But, like Gautier de Metz, he declares it to be
inaccessible because it is surrounded by a wall of fire.
Peter Lombard, the famous Master of the Sentences, who is followed by
other mediæval writers, teaches that Paradise is located on a very high
mountain in Eastern Asia--so high that the waters of the Deluge, which
rose above the summit of Ararat, submerged only its base.[462] Another
author informs us that “Paradise is neither in heaven nor on earth....
It is forty fathoms higher than Noah’s flood was and it hangeth between
heaven and earth wonderfully, as the Ruler of all things made it....
There is there neither hollow nor hill; nor is there frost nor snow,
hail or rain, but there is _fons vitæ_, that is, the well of
life.... There is there neither heat nor hunger, nor is there ever
night, but always day. The sun there shines seven times brighter than
on this earth. Therein dwell innumerable angels of God with the holy
souls till doomsday.”[463]
Of similar import is the description of Paradise contained in
an Anglo-Saxon poem--a translation of the “De Phœnice” of the
Pseudo-Lactantius--in which the poet declares:
_I have heard tell_
_That there is far hence_
_In eastern parts_
_A land most noble_
_Amongst men renowned._
_That tract of earth is not_
_Over mid earth_
_Fellow to many_
_Peopled lands;_
_But it is withdrawn_
_Through the Creator’s might_
_From wicked doers._
_Beauteous is all the plain,_
_With delight blessed,_
_With the sweetest_
_Of earth’s odors._
From the time of Indicopleustes, who flourished in the sixth century,
to our own, travelers and explorers have sought for the Garden of Eden,
and geographers have indicated on their maps the places they imagined
it should occupy. Some were satisfied with a conjectural location,
but others, basing their speculations on the data given in the second
chapter of Genesis, were minded that the problem was so simple that it
could be answered off-hand. They were quite like Hudibras who
_Knew the seat of Paradise,_
_Could tell in what degree it lies,_
_And as he was disposed could prove it_
_Above the moon or below it._
In a letter purporting to have been written to the Emperor Manual
Comnenus, the mythical king Prester John declares that Paradise is
situated within three days’ journey of his own empire, but whether this
empire is in Asia or Africa is not made clear.
The river Indus which issues out of Paradise [he writes] flows
among the plains through a certain province and it expands,
embracing the whole province with its various windings. There
are found emeralds, sapphires, topazes, chrysolites, onyx,
beryl, sardius and many other precious stones. At the base of
Mount Olympus, located in the dominions of Prester John, there
is [the king continues] a marvelous fountain and from hour to
hour and day to day the taste of this fountain varies and its
source is hardly three days’ journey from Paradise from which
Adam was expelled. If any man drinks thrice of this fountain he
will from that day feel no infirmity and he will, as long as he
lives, appear of the age of thirty.
Sir John Mandeville, the reputed author of a celebrated travel book,
which, he assures us, was “proved for true” by the Pope’s councils,
places Paradise “beyond the lands and isles and deserts of Prester
John’s lordship.”...
Of Paradise [he tells us] I cannot speak properly, for I was
not there.... I repent not going there, but I was not worthy.
But [he continues] Terrestrial Paradise, as wise men say, is
the highest place of the earth; and is so high that it nearly
touches the circle of the moon there as the moon makes her turn.
You shall understand [he writes] that no mortal may approach
to that Paradise; for by land no man may go, for wild beasts
that are in the deserts and for the high mountains and great,
huge rocks that no man may pass by for the dark places that are
there; and by the rivers may no man go, for the water runs so
roughly and so sharply, because it comes down so outrageously
from the high places above, that it runs in so great waves that
no ship may row or sail against it; and the water roars so and
makes so huge a noise, and so great a tempest, that no man may
hear another in the ship, though he cried with all the might
he could. Many great lords have essayed with great will many
times to pass by those rivers towards Paradise with full great
companies, but they might not speed on their voyage; and many
died for weariness of rowing against the strong waves; and many
of them became blind and many deaf from the noise of the water;
and some perished and were lost in the waves, so that no mortal
man may approach to that place without the special grace of
God.[464]
Columbus, as we learn from his letters, thought he had found the site
of the Garden of Eden in the northern part of South America. True, he
was not aware that he had discovered a new continent. He was under
the impression that he was on the east coast of Asia, the ocean-laved
shores of far-off Cathay. He accepted as true one of the traditional
beliefs which located Paradise in farther India, or yet more to
the eastward and was fully persuaded that he had, in the Orinoco,
discovered one of the rivers that watered Eden.
Writing to his Royal patrons, Ferdinand and Isabella, of the region at
the headwaters of the Orinoco, he says:
I have no doubt that, if I could pass below the equinoctial
line, after reaching the highest point of which I have spoken,
I should find a much milder temperature and a variation in the
stars and in the water; not that I suppose that elevated point
to be navigable, nor indeed that there is any water there;
indeed I believe it impossible to ascend thither, because I am
convinced that it is the spot of the Earthly Paradise whither no
one can go but by God’s permission.
[Continuing, he adds] There are great indications of this being
the Terrestrial Paradise, for its site coincides with the
opinions of the holy and wise theologians whom I have mentioned;
and moreover the other evidences agree with the supposition,
for I have never either read or heard of fresh water coming in
so large a quantity in close conjunction with the water of
the sea; the idea is also corroborated by the blandness of the
temperature; and, if the water of which I speak does not proceed
from the Earthly Paradise, it appears to be more marvelous, for
I do not believe that there is any river in the world so large
and so deep.
The more I reason on the subject [he concludes] the more
satisfied I become that the Terrestrial Paradise is situated
on the spot I have described; and I ground my opinion upon the
arguments and authorities already quoted. May it please the
Lord to grant your Highnesses a long life and health and peace
to follow out so noble an investigation in which I think our
Lord will receive great service, Spain considerable increase of
its greatness and all Christians much consolation and pleasure,
because by this means the name of the Lord will be published
abroad.[465]
But Columbus was not the only one to locate the original home of our
race in South America. Only a few years ago a patriotic Bolivian
scholar, Emeterio Villamil, maintained that the site of the Garden of
Eden was on the eastern slope of the mighty Sorata, while the Argentine
geologist, Dr. Ameghino, contended that the mother region of mankind
was within the shadow of Monte Hermoso, in southern Argentina. There
could be no doubt about it. For did he not here discover the skeleton
of the first man? And did he not testify to the faith that was in him
by giving to the Argentine Adam the imposing name of _Tetraprothomo
Argentinus_?
According to M. Mayo, however, all those who would place humanity’s
first hearthstone in Asia, or in Europe, or in America were entirely
mistaken. In an ingenious study on “Les Secrets de Pyramides de
Memphis”[466] he argues that the desert of Sahara embraces what was
once the Garden of Eden. True, it is now a bleak and arid desert, but
he believes it was once a land of marvelous beauty and fertility.
There was a time, he avers, when it was watered by large rivers and
meandering streams; when it was covered with rich verdure and luxurious
vegetation; when it was densely populated and the happy home of a
peaceful and prosperous people. A new reading of Genesis, in the light
of certain hieroglyphical inscriptions of the twelfth dynasty regarding
the pyramid of Cheops will, he assures us, solve the mystery that has
so long enshrouded the famed monument of Gizeh and reveal the reason
why all attempts hitherto made to localize the Paradise of Scripture
have proved futile. The Nile, he will have it, formerly flowed through
the Sahara where it divided into four branches, constituting the
quadrifurcate river of Genesis. At this time the people of Egypt,
who even then were a powerful and highly civilized nation, suffered
from lack of water and cast about to increase their supply of this
all-important element. They obtained it by deflecting the course of
the Nile and directing it through their own country. By making a large
cut or ditch through an elevation near Khartoum they appropriated to
themselves the waters of the great reservoirs of equatorial Africa
and shut off from their neighbors in the Sahara the only source of
irrigation on which their country could depend. It was thus, according
to this quixotic Frenchman, not God but man who closed Paradise and
made entrance into it impossible by taking from it the water that gave
it fecundity and life.
“Fudge,” vociferates Ignatius Donnelly. “Amen,” ejaculates Unger.
Paradise according to these worthies was not situated in any of the
existing continents, for its seat, as can be proved, was in the lost
Atlantis. Accepting Plato’s account of the Atlantis, as given in
the Timæus, as veritable history, the paradoxical Donnelly attempts
to show that Atlantis was not only the Garden of Eden but also the
only possible center of distribution for the various races which now
people the Old and the New World. And more than this. Not only, he
asseverates, “was it the original home of mankind but it was likewise
the focus whence have eradiated all our cereals and most useful plants
and fruits and all our domestic animals.”[467] Here, too, he claims,
many of the most valuable inventions which ever blessed our race had
their origin. In a word, if we are to believe this plausible author,
Atlantis was the home of art, science, and literature and the people
who inhabited it not only enjoyed all the peace and happiness of which
the ancient poets speak as being the lot of the privileged mortals of
the Golden Age but they were the prototypes of the gods, demi-gods, and
heroes of a later and less fortunate period.
“Nonsense,” exclaim Dr. Warren, Count Saporta, and the German
astronomer, Herr Kohl. Basing their opinions on certain forced
interpretations of various ancient legends and traditions and on the
results of scientific explorations of the regions within the Arctic
Circle, these gentlemen reach the startling conclusion that the first
home of our race was in the circumpolar North.
The investigations of botanists, they remind us, declare the singular,
but as yet inexplicable fact, that “all the floral types and forms
revealed in the oldest fossils in the earth, originated in the region
of the North Pole and thence spread first over the northern and then
over the southern hemisphere, proceeding from north to south.” The
same may also be said of numerous and important representatives of the
world’s fauna. Why then, they inquire, are we not justified in placing
humanity’s birthplace where the animals and plants which serve man and
on which he subsists and which have accompanied him on his migrations
over the earth’s surface are known to have originated? “Only from
the circumpolar regions of the North,” affirms Count Saporta, “could
primitive humanity have radiated as from a center to spread into the
several continents at once and to give rise to successive emigrations
toward the south. This theory best agrees with the presumed march of
the human races.”[468]
At the North Pole of the earth, therefore, “the sacred quarter of the
world,” “the navel of the earth,” “the mesomphalos,” “the _umbilicus
orbis terrarum_,” are we to look for the long lost Eden, for the
cradle of mankind. There where the _aurora borealis_ is seen in
all its splendor, under a canopy formed by palpitating and wafting
draperies, quivering curtains and shining streamers of primatic hues of
varying intensity and matchless brilliancy our first parents spent the
first happy days of their existence and there, amid a frozen desolation
lie buried the “hearthstone of Humanity’s earliest and loveliest
home.”[469]
But the views of those who have located Paradise in “the fairie North”
have been no more satisfactory than the contentions of those who have
placed it on the elevated plateau of the Andes, or on the top of a
cloud-piercing mountain of farther India or beneath the shifting sands
of the Sahara or in the fabled Atlantis or in some mythical Hyperborean
land which has been ice bound for a million years or more. Far from
it. So fascinating, however, is the subject that men of science still
continue the quest of humanity’s original dwelling place and still
elaborate theories respecting its location that are quite as fantastic
as were those of the speculators and paradox mongers of the past. Thus,
according to Hasse, it was in Prussia on the shores of the Baltic;
Herder imagined it to have been in Cashmere; Livingstone sought it in
equatorial Africa and hoped to find it at the headwaters of the Nile,
if he could be fortunate enough to discover them. Daumer maintained
that it was in Australia whence man emigrated to America and thence, by
way of Behring’s Straits, to Asia and Europe.
The eminent anthropologist, Quaterfages de Bréau, is disposed to
consider the lofty plateau of Pamir as the original hearthstone of
mankind.[470] This is also the view of the distinguished Orientalist,
François Lenormant, whose investigations have led him to believe
that the four rivers--the Phison, the Gehon, the Tigris, and the
Euphrates--which watered Gan-Eden, or Paradise, were what are now known
as the Indus, the Oxus, the Tarin, and the Jaxartes.[471]
Here, too, curiously enough, on this “Roof of the world”; on this
“central Boss of Asia,” is the spot where the puranas locate the holy
Mount Meru, the primeval Aryan Paradise; the center, according to the
traditions of the Parsees, whence radiated the first Aryan migrations,
and one of the regions of the earth which even Mohammedan teaching has
assigned as the cradle-land of our species.[472]
From the foregoing opinions entertained by divers authors the reader
can infer how prominent a part wild conjecture, unbridled fancy, and
love of learned paradox have played in the numerous investigations
which at various times have been made with a view of determining the
geographical seat of Paradise. And, be it remembered, allusion has
been made to only a few of the opinions that have in times past been
promulgated respecting humanity’s pristine home. Nearly a hundred
different theories regarding the birthplace of our race have been
advocated at one time or another, practically all of which are now
discarded as highly fanciful or supremely ridiculous.
Must we, then, as many have done, look upon the Garden of Eden as
a religious or a philosophic myth? Has modern research--especially
research in the domain of the new science of Assyriology--done nothing
toward clearing up the mystery which has so long enveloped the site of
the Biblical Paradise, or are we forever to renounce all hope of even
an approximate solution of the great enigma? Not at all. We can still
say with the Florentine Poet, Leonardo Dati:
_Asia è la prima parte dove l’unomo,_
_Sendo innocente stava in Paradiso._
And leaving out of consideration the vagaries of certain transformists
and polygenists and the lucubrations of certain noted paradoxers like
those just referred to, it may be asserted of a truth that the general
consensus of the highest and most trustworthy authorities is agreed in
locating the cradle of humanity somewhere in that part of Asia which is
embraced by the Tigris and the Euphrates.
There would, probably, never have been much doubt about this matter,
at least on the part of Scriptural scholars, had it not been for the
imperfect geographical knowledge of early Christian writers and for the
errors that had been given currency by The Seventy in their version of
the Old Testament from Hebrew into Greek. They made no mistake about
the Tigris and the Euphrates, which were well known to them, but when
it came to the Phison and the Gehon they went completely astray and
gave to these two rivers an interpretation which was accepted without
question by even the most learned Biblical exegetes for more than a
thousand years. For, in their identification of the Phison with the
Ganges and the Gehon with the Nile, they so confused all researches
respecting the actual site of the Terrestrial Paradise that it was not
until long centuries afterwards that students of the Genesiac narrative
bethought themselves of making a more serious study of the Sacred Text.
Reading carefully the second chapter of Genesis they discovered that
many had been misled by a misunderstanding of the eighth verse. There,
according to the Vulgate, it is stated that “the Lord God planted
a paradise of pleasure from _the beginning_.” But a careful
examination of the Hebrew word, _mid-quedem_, which is here
made to signify the beginning, should, they found, indicate space
rather than time. The real sense of the words above quoted should,
therefore, be: “The Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden.” And
they furthermore discovered that the word _mid-quedem_ meant
_eastward_ from Palestine and not, as some had imagined, eastward
from Babylonia.[473]
The site of Eden, it now seemed clear, should be sought for eastward
of Palestine where the writer of the Genesiac narrative lived and
somewhere between the well-known rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates.
This greatly reduced the area in which the Terrestrial Paradise was
presumed to have been located. For, if the Biblical account of Eden
was to be interpreted literally, it necessarily followed that it must
have been placed somewhere in that peninsular tract of land which is
included between the Tigris and the Euphrates and which extends from
their sources--very near each other--in the highlands of Armenia to
their confluence in the lowlands of Babylonia near the Persian Gulf.
Guided by these indications of the narrative of Genesis, the learned
Benedictine, Dom Calmet, fancied that the seat of Paradise was in
the rich plateau of Armenia where even to-day are found some of the
most fertile valleys in the world. This opinion, it is avouched by
the followers of the distinguished Benedictine, is corroborated by a
popular tradition in Armenia which locates the Garden of Eden in the
oasis of Ordubad, on the right bank of the Aras.[474]
The four rivers, according to Dom Calmet’s theory, which watered
Paradise, are the Tigris and the Euphrates--whose sources are only an
hour’s journey from each other--and the Phasis and Araxes mentioned by
Pliny and Strabo. It is interesting to note that the sources of all
four of these rivers are very near one another, but it is still more
interesting to observe that the land which is watered by the Phasis and
which is supposed, according to Calmet’s theory, to be the Hevilath of
Genesis, “where gold groweth,” corresponds with the Colchis whither the
Argonauts sailed in quest of the Golden Fleece.
An objection to this theory is that it does not harmonize with the
words of Genesis which declare that the river which went out of
Paradise “is divided into four heads,” that is, into four branches. The
natural meaning of these words is that the four rivers mentioned in
the Edenic narrative had one and the same source. But each river, as
has been said, has its own distinct source. The only answer that the
defenders of the theory have been able to give is one that is warranted
by no known fact--namely that past revolutions of the earth’s surface
have materially changed the topography of the original site of the
Garden of Eden.[475]
There were many other objections to the theory which located the
Paradise of Delights at the headwaters of the Tigris and the Euphrates.
Not the least of these was the rigorous climate of the Armenian
uplands. For this reason, and for others that need not here be
specified, scholars began to consider more favorably the hypothesis
which placed the Garden of Eden somewhere in southern Babylonia. Among
the first of these was John Calvin. He identifies the Gehon and the
Phison with the Tigris and the Euphrates, in as much as he gives the
names Gehon and Phison to the two lower reaches of these rivers, which
connect the Shat-el-Arab with the Persian Gulf.[476] But Calvin’s
theory regarding the location of Paradise is at variance with the
words of the Sacred Text while his assumption of the antiquity of the
two channels which connect the Shat-el-Arab with the Persian Gulf is
completely negatived by the teachings of science respecting the recent
formation of these watercourses.
The first one who ventured to state precisely in what part of
Babylonia Eden was located was Pierre Daniel Huet, the learned bishop
of Avranches. This he did in his celebrated _Tractatus de Situ
Paradisi_, a book which had so great a vogue that it passed through
many editions and was translated into several languages. So clear to
him were the indications of the Genesiac narrative respecting the site
of Paradise that he declares “I have often marveled that interpreters
have shut their eyes to them and have worried with many and so various
conjectures which were so little in keeping with the plain words of
the Sacred Text.” As for himself he had no doubt about the site of the
Garden of Eden. He was sure he could indicate the exact spot where the
first pair lived before the fall. It was, he opined, in a bend of the
river now known as the Shat-el-Arab and at a point which, according
to Ptolemy’s map, is located in latitude 32° 39´ and in longitude 80°
10´. This, as the map drawn to illustrate his view shows, was near
Aracca--the Erech of Scripture.
Huet’s view as to the location of Paradise was essentially the same
as that of Calvin whose theory was closely followed not only by the
theologians of Louvain but also by Joseph Scaliger--the father of
modern chronology--and by other scholars innumerable. But, although
the good bishop thought he had determined the exact spot where the
first human pair first saw the light of day and, although very many
of his contemporaries seemed to share his views, it was not long
until other hypotheses were promulgated regarding the much disputed
site of humanity’s original home. Not counting, however, the fanciful
and ingenious speculations of certain authors already mentioned, the
general consensus of scholars, since the time of Dom Calmet, seems to
have favored southern Babylonia as the land in which “the Lord God
planted” the ever-mysterious, the ever-elusive Garden of Eden.
This is particularly true since investigators have had the powerful aid
of the new and all-important sciences of geology and Assyriology. They
have eliminated many fantastic notions that so long marred the works of
the most serious men of science and have shown that certain assumptions
formerly made by exegetes must now be regarded as quite impossible.
And the general trend of these two sciences has been to illumine and
corroborate the much debated statements of the second chapter of
Genesis in the most unexpected manner.
Thus, one of the oldest accounts of Creation, as given in a cuneiform
inscription discovered some decades ago by the noted Orientalist, T.
F. Pinches, “carries us directly to Babylonia. In this the creation
of the earth is but a preparation for that of the Garden which stood
eastward in Eden, in the center, it would seem of the world. The garden
was watered by a river which after fulfilling its work was parted into
‘four heads’ and flowed in four different streams. Of these two were
the great rivers of the Babylonian plain, the Tigris and the Euphrates;
the others bear names which have not yet been identified with certainty.
“The scenery, however, is entirely Babylonian. The Eden itself,
in which the garden was planted, was the plain of Babylonia. This
we know from the evidence of the cuneiform texts. It was called
by its inhabitants Edinu, a word borrowed by the Semites from the
Accado-Sumerian _edin_, ‘the (fertile) plain.’ To the East of it
lay the land of the ‘nomads,’ termed Nod in Genesis and Manda in the
inscriptions. The river which watered the Garden was the Persian Gulf,
known to the Babylonians as ‘the river,’ or more fully ‘the bitter’ or
‘salt river.’ It was regarded as the source of the four other rivers
whose ‘heads’ were the spots where they flowed into the source which at
once received and fed them.”[477]
Regarding the rivers which are mentioned in the Edenic narrative, Mr.
Sayce, the distinguished Orientalist, seems to have no doubt. Chief
among them are the Tigris and the Euphrates whose names date back to
early Accadian times. “Though it is questionable,” he writes, “whether
the names of the Pison and the Gihon have hitherto been detected on
the cuneiform monuments, it is not difficult to determine the rivers
with which they must be identified.“[478] These rivers, he endeavors
to show, must have been the Kerkhah, the Choaspes of the classical
writers, and a stream which is now represented by the Pallakopas Canal.
In the first of these two rivers he sees the Gehon of Genesis which
”compasseth the whole land of Cush,” while in the second he recognizes
the Phison which “compasseth the whole land of Havilah.”
As to the location of Eden it was, according to Accado-Sumerian
inscriptions, near the sacred city of Eridu which, some six thousand
years ago, was “the great seaport of Babylonia,” but of which nothing
now remains but “the rubbish heaps of Abu-Shahrein.” “When Eridu still
stood on the seacoast,” continues Sayce, “not only the Tigris but other
rivers also flowed into the Persian Gulf. The great salt ‘river,’ as
it was termed, received the waters of four in all at no great distance
from the walls of Eridu.”[479]
As seen from the foregoing paragraphs, Sayce like Calvin, Huet, and
many other scholars, also places the Garden of Eden in southern
Babylonia and only about twenty miles from the spot so confidently
indicated by the scholarly bishop of Avranches as the site of the
Terrestrial Paradise.
No less interesting than Sayce’s view, which is based entirely on
the teachings of Assyriology, is the conclusion arrived at by the
noted Canadian investigator, J. W. Dawson, from data supplied by the
science of geology of which he was a recognized master. With Sayce he
agrees that the Kerkhah is the Gehon of Genesis but contends that the
river Karun, instead of the Pallakopas Canal, as his English confrère
maintains, is the Phison.
We thus find, that if we place our ancient geographer [the
author of the second chapter of Genesis] where he places
himself, and suppose he refers to the Euphrates and the three
principal rivers confluent with it near its entrance into the
Persian Gulf, we obtain a clear idea of his meaning and find
that, whatever the sources of his information respecting the
antediluvian Eden, he had correct ideas of the Idinu of his own
time and of its surrounding inhabitants. According to him, the
primitive seat of man was in the south of the Babylonian plain,
in an irrigated district of great fertility and having in its
vicinity mountain tracts abounding in such mineral products as
were of use to primeval man.[480]
Curiously enough, it is near the locality designated by Huet and Sayce
and Dawson as the site of the Garden of Eden that an age-old tradition
of the Babylonian Arabs has located the Terrestrial Paradise. For
it is at Kurna at the present confluence of the Euphrates and the
Tigris, a spot noted for its beautiful and stately date palms--trees so
characteristic of southern Babylonia where its fruit has always formed
the staple food of its inhabitants--that this tradition places the
pristine home of Adam and Eve. Aside from any legends that might have
been associated with it, its lovely palm grove must have made so strong
an impression on the swarthy sons of the desert that they naturally
concluded that it could have been naught else but a beautiful vestige
of the original Garden of Eden where the first human pair enjoyed
supreme happiness during their short life of original innocence.
The great difficulty in localizing the site of the Terrestrial Paradise
has hitherto arisen from the impossibility of identifying with any
degree of certainty the rivers Gehon and Phison. Assyriologists,
however, are optimistic enough to believe that some document will
eventually be discovered among the cuneiform inscriptions still
buried beneath the ruins of ancient Babylonia that shall settle this
long controverted question to the satisfaction of the most critical
investigator.
But, in the absence of the tablet or monument which is to supply us
with the eagerly sought information respecting these two puzzling
rivers, exegetes and historians, geologists and archæologists,
Assyriologists and anthropologists still continue their quest of some
clue that may enable them to solve the riddle which has hitherto so
completely baffled every attempt at its solution.
Among the most distinguished of recent scholars who have essayed to
clear up the mystery are the German savants, E. Glaser and F. Hommel.
The former, as the result of a careful study of the geographical
indications given in the cuneiform inscriptions, arrives at a
conclusion which, so far as it respects two of the rivers named in
the Biblical account of Eden, is _toto cœlo_ different from that
of any of his predecessors in this fascinating field of inquiry. For
he insists, surprising as it may seem, that the Gehon is the Wadi
al-Rummah and the Phison the Wadi Dawasir which, in early post-glacial
times were two great rivers that, after flowing eastward through
central Arabia, became confluent with the Tigris and the Euphrates at
a point near the Persian Gulf. This was, we are told, when Arabia,
now a sun-parched desert, was a land of magnificent forests and
luxuriant vegetation; of extensive and fertile prairies watered by
frequent rains; of a temperate and equable climate--an ideal home for
a people who were yet ignorant of the arts of civilized life and whose
only shelter was abodes of the most primitive type. Glaser, however,
agrees with those of his predecessors who locate the Garden of Eden in
southern Babylonia.[481]
Professor Hommel, of Munich, goes still farther for, not content with
identifying the Gehon and the Phison with the two wadis demanded by his
learned compatriot’s novel theory, he contends that the Hiddikel of
Genesis--usually called the Tigris--was none other than the Wady Sirhan
which traverses northern Arabia and anciently emptied its waters into
the Euphrates near Kufah.[482] According to this theory, the three
Arabic rivers mentioned formerly discharged their waters into a shallow
estuary at points not far distant from one another. This estuary has
long since been replaced by the alluvial land of southern Babylonia and
through it the lower bed of the Euphrates now passes on its way to the
Persian Gulf. Like Huet, Sayce, Dawson, and Glaser, Hommel also teaches
that the Garden of Eden must be sought in the Babylonian lowland
and somewhere near the confluence of the three Arabian rivers just
mentioned with the lower Euphrates.
All these eminent exegetes and men of science--and countless others
might be named--are at one with Prince Caetani--justly esteemed for his
contributions to our knowledge of the Near East--when he declares that
the description of the Terrestrial Paradise, as given in the Sacred
Text, in no wise “alludes to an imaginary place, but, on the contrary
delineates with great precision a real and determinate locality in
western Asia. This it does not only by naming the four rivers which
arise in it but also by specifying the countries watered by them and by
giving a list of their principal products.
“It is clear that the author of the Genesiac narrative had in view a
place that was well known and that he took pains to describe it so
minutely that there could be no doubt whatever regarding the country
which he wished to indicate.”[483]
But of all the recent works which locate the site of Eden in Babylonia
none has attracted more attention or produced a profounder impression
than Professor Delitzsch’s masterly _Wo Lag das Paradies_. The
fact that its author is recognized as the most eminent of contemporary
Assyriologists and as one who has in lower Mesopotamia made a careful
and special topographical study of the region which he designates as
Gan-Eden and in which he places the Terrestrial Paradise, gives to his
interpretation of the Genesiac record respecting the Garden of Eden
an importance that no one can ignore. In his opinion the four rivers
mentioned in the second chapter of Genesis are the Euphrates, the
Tigris, and the two watercourses now known as the Shatt en-Nil, which
he maintains corresponds with the Gehon, and the Pallakopas Canal which
he identifies with the Phison. I refer the reader to the author’s work
for his reasons for arriving at these conclusions. The interesting fact
is that he agrees with the other eminent scholars above-mentioned in
placing Gan-Eden--the Hebrew name for the Garden of Eden--in Southern
Babylonia, although slightly farther northward than do some of the
other noted workers in the same field of research. According to the
interesting map, at the end of the volume, with which the learned
professor has illustrated his book, Gan-Eden occupied the tract of land
between Bagdad and Babylon. This is where the Tigris and the Euphrates
most nearly approach each other before their final confluence much
farther towards the south.[484]
Were we, then, really traversing the Garden of Eden on our way from
the city of the Caliphs to the capital of Nebuchadnezzar? Tradition
and legend, history, geology and Assyriology, as interpreted by the
most eminent scholars of our time answer in the affirmative. Needless
to say, I loved to think so. Indeed, during our entire journey through
this mysterious land which has filled so large a page in the annals of
our race, I thought of little else. Fancy was active. I needed only to
close my eyes to surrounding realities to feel that I was literally
wandering through the fragrant and mystic groves of Paradise. I was
as a music lover under the spell of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony or as
one entranced by the sublime harmonies of Wagner’s Parsifal. Oblivious
of my actual environment and indifferent, for the time being, to the
theories and hypotheses of men of science respecting the site of
the Terrestrial Paradise, I thought only of the simple narrative of
Genesis and the pictures, based upon it, which, in my early youth, my
imagination was wont to portray of the home of our first parents. I
recalled Dante’s description of the beauties of the Paradise where he
met his beloved Beatrice, from whom he had been so long separated and
where he was made
_Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars_.[485]
Yes, youthful impressions and poetic fancies embalmed in immortal
verse meant more to me than did the latest teachings of geologists and
Assyriologists with all their display of learning and cocksureness.
This was particularly true when we first caught sight of the
palm-fringed Euphrates and the sand-mantled ruins of Babylon. The
Euphrates is the one river which the great majority of serious students
have always held was, without doubt, one of the four rivers of Eden.
And Babylon, I hardly know why, I have always looked upon as being as
intimately associated with the cradle of our race as is the Euphrates.
Both of them were then to me tangible landmarks on the site of the
Terrestrial Paradise and when I read _Wo Lag das Paradies_ I could
not but hope that future researches would prove that the scholarly
Berlin Professor had at last succeeded in locating the site of
humanity’s birthplace and, in so doing, had definitively solved one of
the greatest riddles of the ages.
And as we came near to Hillah--which is supposed to have formed a part
of Babylon in the days of its greatness--and caught our first view of
its magnificent groves of date palms, I loved to fancy that they were,
as the Talmud teaches, the actual scions of those which flourished in
the “Garden of God” and which supplied food and shelter to the father
and mother of mankind.
But a more charming sight was awaiting us. It was a beautiful garden
adjoining the home where a kindly and well-to-do Arab gave us
hospitality while we visited Babylon and its vicinity. In this garden
were stately date palms, waving lazily in the soft and scented breeze,
orange and other trees laden with golden fruits, and the plantain named
the _Musa Paradisaica_[486] and countless flowers of most gorgeous
colors and most grateful fragrance. How vividly this garden recalled
the one by God “in the East of Eden planted,” of which Milton sings:
_In this pleasant soil_
_His far more pleasant Garden God ordain’d;_
_Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow_
_All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste._
And how a favored nook, distinguished by a riot of flowers, caused this
fair garden to remind us still more vividly of the blissful bower where
our first parents found their happiest and most blissful home! Watered
by “many a rill” of the Edenic river which flowed gently by it,
_It was a place_
_Chosen by the sov’reign planter, when he framed_
_All things to man’s delightful use; the roof_
_Of thickest covert was inwoven shade,_
_Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew_
_Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side_
_Acanthus and each odorous, bushy shrub,_
_Fenced up the verdant wall, each beauteous flower,_
_Iris all hues, roses and jessamin_
_Rear’d high their flourish’d heads between and wrought
Mosaic; under foot the violet,_
_Crocus and hyacinth with rich inlay_
_Broider’d the ground, more color’d than with stone_
_Of costliest emblem._[487]
Yes, as I contemplated the stately trees and ravishing shrubs and
blooms of this lovely garden on the sweetly murmuring Euphrates, I
wished to believe that the tradition which located Paradise at or near
this spot was well founded and that I was actually gazing on some of
the floral and arboreal descendants of those which here sheltered
_Adam, the goodliest man of men since born_
_His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve._
I wished also to believe that we here saw a remnant of that spot
which was a prototype of the Garden of the Hesperides, the Elysian
Fields, the Isles of the Blessed and what was a type and figure of the
Celestial Paradise and of the home of Our Father in Heaven.