The Oldest Language upon Earth.
The story goes that three old men—a Mohammedan, a Jew, and a
Brahmin—seated on the ground beside a well, disputed together as to which
was the first language spoken upon earth. The discussion waxed so hot,
the voices were raised so loudly, that the sound drew to the spot a young
Englishman. The youth had been out shooting; with his gun in his hand,
and his game at his feet, he now stood, leaning against a tree, listening
to the discussion between the three men.
The Mohammedan, with vehement gestures, and many an oath, declared that
no language could equal the Arabic.
“Is it not the language,” he cried, “in which Mohammed (blessed be his
name!) received the holy Koran? Is it not that in which the Most High
gave laws to the faithful? Will ye, O ye unbelievers! cast dust on the
grave of the Prophet by doubting that Arabic is the oldest language on
earth?”
The Jew shook his gray head, and his brow was knit into many wrinkles
as he made answer: “The language which Abraham our father, which Isaac
and Jacob (peace be on them!) spake, must be honoured above all other
tongues. Surely it was heard in Paradise, before Eve plucked the
forbidden fruit! The oldest and most sacred language assuredly is the
Hebrew.”
Then spake the Brahmin, in tones of scorn: “All languages compared to
Sanscrit are as the bulrush compared with the spreading banyan. Nay; even
as the banyan sends forth shoots, and from those shoots, when they touch
the earth, spring forth young trees, so other tongues spring from the
life-giving Sanscrit. He must be void of wisdom, and ignorant as a woman,
who doubts that the most ancient language is Sanscrit.”
The disputants grew so angry, that it seemed as if to words might succeed
blows, when the young Englishman stepped forward.
“O venerable men!” he said with courtesy, “you have numbered many years
and I but few; yet let me arbitrate between you. I know what is the most
ancient and honourable language spoken on earth.”
“You know!” exclaimed the Mohammedan in surprise. “You have but down upon
your lips; and will you teach graybeards like us?”
The Hindu muttered to himself,—“The Sahib log think that they know
everything! They can make roads and bridges, and send messages through
wires; but what can they tell of ancient languages to a Brahmin?”
“The language of which I would inform you is not only the one first
spoken upon earth, but it is the one now spoken in heaven,” said the
Englishman.
The three men stroked their beards, and uttered exclamations of
astonishment at the presumption shown by the youth.
“And yet more,” continued the youth, his eyes, blue as the sky, sparkling
with animation as he went on,—“without learning to speak this language no
man, of whatsoever nation he be, will ever be suffered to enter heaven.”
“Does your honour know this language?” asked the Mohammedan quickly.
“Yes, God be praised!” the Englishman replied.
“And where did you first learn it?” asked the incredulous Jew.
In a softened tone the young man replied, “I learned it first from the
lips of my mother.”
The three men glanced at each other in surprise; and then the Brahmin
inquired, “And what is this language, O Sahib?”
“The language of TRUTH,” said the Englishman.
When the word was spoken, the clouds cleared away from the faces of the
three; they stroked their beards and cried, “Well said. Truth is the
language of God; truth is the language spoken in heaven.”
“But it must be learned upon earth,” said the Englishman earnestly.
“Before I came to this land, I gave up pleasures by day and rest by
night, in order to learn the language of Hindostan. Were I not to know
it, I could not remain in the honourable service to which I belong. And
thus it is with truth, the language of heaven. God is truth itself, and a
lie is to Him an accursed thing. It is written in His Word: _Lying lips
are an abomination to the Lord._”
Again the three men glanced at each other. There was not one of them that
would not have lied for the sake of making a few pice larger profit in a
bargain; lies were to them common as the mosquitoes which buzzed around
their heads; not one of them had ever thought of falsehood as a deadly
sin, abhorrent to God.
The Mohammedan was the one to speak first.
“Upon what authority does the Sahib affirm that the gate of heaven is
closed against those who speak not the language of truth?”
“On the authority of God’s holy Word, which cannot be broken,” replied
the Englishman. “Hear, O my friends, what is declared of the abode of the
blessed by Him who cannot utter untruth: _There shall in no wise enter
into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination or
maketh a lie._”
“Heaven will be very empty, then,” said the Jew with a sneer. “Your
favoured Saint Peter, according to your own Scriptures, lied thrice, and
with oaths and curses. Shall he be shut out from heaven, or shall his sin
alone go unpunished?”
“Peter’s sin _was_ punished,” replied the Englishman gravely; “but it was
Peter’s Lord, the Master whom Peter had denied, who bore the penalty for
him. The blood that flowed from the Saviour’s wounded side can wash away
all sin, whether of thought or word or deed, the sin of falsehood amongst
the rest. But those who would be forgiven like Peter, must, like Peter,
believe and love. When God’s Spirit comes into the heart, He comes to
drive away evil from it; the unjust becomes just, and the proud becomes
meek, and the lips that often were stained with falsehood learn the
language of heaven—the language of truth.”