hated her. Rachel "envied her sister," and "Jacob's anger was kindled
against Rachel," and altogether the picture of their home is not very
enticing, and having gotten thus far we are more than ever convinced
that we do not want to follow the example of the "holy women" of old,
as Peter complimentarily, but ignorantly, calls them.
And Rachel and Leah, in order to spite and humble each other, each
gave her maid "to Jacob to wife" and strange as it may seem, he
accepted them both. It was like him.
Now about this time Leah's son "found mandrakes in the field" and
brought them to his mother. We suppose Rachel had a sweet tooth from
the fact that a little further on we find her offering to sell her
husband for one night to Leah, for some mandrakes, whatever they were;
and we notice that women held their husbands rather cheap in those
good old days.
You see Rachel and Leah made Jacob a thing of barter and sale and
(without consulting his desires) Leah consummated the bargain, and she
went out toward the field when the harvest was progressing, and met
Jacob as he came from his work tired and dusty, and informed him he
must come with her, "For surely I have hired thee with my son's
mandrakes," and he did not resent the insulting idea that he had been
"hired," but like all the other distractingly obedient men of the
Bible--he went.
Rachel next distinguishes herself as a disobedient daughter and
headstrong wife by "stealing her father's gods" without consulting or
confiding in her husband, for we read that "Jacob knew not that Rachel
had stolen them."
And Laban, Rachel's father, and Jacob had a lively altercation, and
they said exceedingly naughty things to each other in loud voices, but
at last they came to an agreement, and Laban said he would give up his
children, grandchildren and cattle, but he was bound to have his
"gods" or know the reason why. The entire story is a curious mixture
of heathenism and belief in one God.
Then Jacob rose in all the confidence of perfect innocence and told
him he might search the whole camp for all he cared, and he added in
his outraged dignity, "with whomsoever thou findest thy gods, let him
not live."
You will observe by that that it was a terrible crime to steal "gods,"
and as it is the first offense of the kind on record, you can infer
what a reckless, ungovernable female Rachel must have been to do so
dreadful an act.
[Illustration: (She hoped he would excuse her for not arising.)]
Well, Laban went like a cyclone "unto Jacob's tent" (notice what
humiliation and disgrace Rachel subjected her husband to, and what a
scandal it must have raised in the neighborhood), and into Leah's tent
and into the two maid-servants' tents; but he found them not. Then he
entered into Rachel's tent.
Now she had hidden the precious little images in the camel's furniture
and sat upon them, and she said she didn't feel very well this
morning, papa dear, or words to that effect, and she hoped he would
excuse her for not arising; and she probably smiled sweetly, put her
arm around his neck, and finally did him up completely by kissing him
tenderly; and of course, as in those days men never dreamed of asking
a woman to do anything she didn't want to do, papa dear did not insist
upon her arising, and so missed his sole and only chance of getting
his "gods."
It was a very serious and perhaps terrible loss to her father, and we
can gather no idea from the scripture why she did it unless out of
pure spite, or else she wanted to use them as bric-a-brac in the new
home to which she was going.
In the history of the "beauteous and well-favored" Rachel and the
"tender-eyed" Leah, we find hatred, deadly jealousy, anger, strife,
dissensions and envy, but none of the forbearance, self-sacrifice,
obedience, meekness and submission that we have been taught that the
ladies of the Old Testament possessed, and we are almost sorry that we
didn't take the preacher's "say so" for it, instead of studying the
Bible diligently and intelligently for ourselves.
ALL NAUGHTY, BUT FAIR.
ALL NAUGHTY, BUT FAIR.
The next young lady whom the Old Testament presents for our admiration
and edification is Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah, who set the
passionate but agonizing style of "loving not wisely, but too well,"
and brought about one of the shrewdest military stratagems that was
ever perpetrated, a terrible massacre, and the slavery of many
innocent women and children.
Several other ladies are mentioned casually and then we come to Tamar,
whose father-in-law, Judah, had broken his solemn promise and
defrauded her of her rights. And did she submissively consent to be
deprived of her just dues? Not at all. She simply disguised herself,
and by deception and a thorough knowledge of man's nature, mixed up
with a shrewd business tact, completely out-generaled her dear
papa-in-law, gained her revenge, and by a sagacious artifice protected
herself from the possible consequences of her folly and from future
punishment by persuading Judah to give her, as a pledge of his good
faith, "his signet and bracelets and staff." In short, she was the
original pawn-broker of the world; and Judah left his treasures "in
escrow" until he could redeem them by delivering her a kid in
liquidation of his debt.
And for many days the sun blazed and faded, the stars sparkled and
paled, and the moon rode high in silvery radiance; the winds and birds
and flowers blushed and sang and sighed, and in due course of time
Judah sent a kid to redeem his valuables, but alas! Tamar had slipped
away and left no trace by which she could be identified, and Judah,
who had broken his pledge, was left in suspense.
But finally the time of retribution came, as come it does and must to
every possessor of a pawn ticket. The days, those bright beads on the
rosary of time, were counted one by one and shadows began to gather
about the fair name of Tamar. Then the whispers of suspicion grew to
pealing thunders of scandal which reached and shocked the good Judah,
and he rose up in his moral rectitude and righteous indignation at
such depravity and cried: "Bring her forth and let her be burnt."
But my lady, with a woman's wit, had foreseen this possible
denouncement and punishment, and prepared for it, and she quietly sent
the articles he had left in pawn, and humbled him to the very dust
with her message.
"Discern, I pray thee, whose are these, the signet and bracelets and
staff?" And I will add here that there was no fire, because Tamar
skillfully avoided being the fuel.
I do not relate the above to harrow up your feelings, but simply to
show you the stuff the women of the Old Testament were made of.
About this time the matchless Joseph appears upon the stage of the Old
Testament as the monument of masculine virtue, and lo! the woman in
the case enters upon the scene in the shape of Potiphar's wife, and
plays her part in the comedy or tragedy--as you happen to look at
it--in Joseph's life.
She doesn't come before the public with a burst of melody, a blaze of
light and the enticing music of applause, but she enters softly,
quietly she "casts her eyes upon Joseph" and she sees he is "a goodly
person and well favored"--and the mischief is done. She lavished her
wealth in all the follies, fashions and pleasures of her time to
attract him; she met him in the hall, gave him roses in the garden,
smiled at him from the doorway. When she slept she dreamed sweet
dreams of kisses and soft hand-clasps. When she lifted her gaze to the
stars, 'twas his eyes she saw there. When she walked by the river's
side, the rippling waters were no sweeter than his voice. When the
summer wind, perfume-laden, fanned her face she fancied 'twas his warm
breath on her cheek. Then she forgot husband and duty, heaven and
hell, and she listened for his footsteps, lingered for his coming,
watched and waited for his smile--and all in vain.
And Joseph, who loved this woman with an incomparable love; this woman
who from the eminence of her wealth, rank and beauty, in the utter
abandonment of her passion cast herself at his feet, Joseph was man
enough to bend and sway and falter before her temptations, but for
friendship's sake, for honor's sake, for the sake of her he loved,
divine enough to resist them.
Out from among the seductive fables and shocking facts of history
Joseph stands forth a shining example as the first man, and perhaps
the last, who loved a woman so well that he refused her outstretched
arms, declined the kisses from her lips, rejected the reckless
invitation in her eyes, and saved her from himself. Who loved with a
passion so tender and deep that, unlike all other men, he refused to
make her he loved a victim on the altar of his passions, but would
have enshrined her there a goddess, "pure as ice and chaste as snow."
Men have always sacrificed women "who loved not wisely, but too well"
upon the altar of their own selfishness, but Joseph saved her and
taught the world what true love is.
The facts of history stab our faith in man's love, woman's constancy,
friendship, honor and truth, but Joseph's peerless example revives it,
and we feel that there are characters that are incorruptible, honesty
that is unassailable, virtue that is impregnable and friendship that
is undying. He shines out from among the other characters of the Old
Testament as distinctly and clearly as a star breaking through the
sullen clouds of heaven, as a lily blowing and floating above the
green scum and sluggish waters, as a rose blooming in a wilderness.
Thank the Lord for Joseph!
But Potiphar's wife, womanlike, scorned a love that would make her an
angel instead of a victim, and by a succession of plausible, neat
little lies, gained her husband's ear, had Joseph cast into prison,
and teaches us that, indeed, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."
But what we wanted to say was, that she was a faithless wife, a
reckless lover, a revengeful and unforgiving woman, since Joseph was
left to languish in captivity for two long years, without any effort
on her part, as far as we can learn or infer, to accomplish his
release.
At this period in the history of the Jews a new king arose in Egypt,
and fearing the great number of the Jews, he "set over them
task-masters, to afflict them with their burdens;" "but the more they
afflicted them the more they multiplied and grew."
Then the king, in the usual arrogance of power, ignorantly supposing
that women were obedient and never dreaming they would dare to
disregard the commands of royalty, spoke to the Hebrew midwives, and
in the easy, off-hand manner that kings had in those days, told them
to kill all the boy babies that came to the Jews, but to save the girl
babies alive.
And did they do it? Not at all! They simply looked at each other,
laughed at the king, and utterly ignored his commands, and then when
majesty in dread power called them to account, with a shrewdness
characteristic of the females of the Old Testament they invented a
plausible excuse, baffled the king, shielded the Jews and saved
themselves.
STORY OF SOME WOMEN AND A BABY.
STORY OF SOME WOMEN AND A BABY.
So the king was balked by the Hebrew midwives and the Jews continued
to "increase abundantly and multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty;
and the land was filled with them."
And the king, fearing the multitude of the Jews, again pitted himself
against the fecundity and rebellion of the women, and issued the cruel
but famous command:
"And Pharaoh charged all the people, saying, Every son that is born ye
shall cast into the river, and every daughter ye shall save alive."
And shortly after that, one night when all the Egyptians slept, and
only the stars, the moon and the winds were awake, in the silence and
the silvery gloom, a baby boy came to a daughter of Levi, and "when
she saw him that he was a goodly child" she quietly determined that no
murderous hand should ever toss him in the rolling river, or check the
breath on his sweet lips; "and she hid him three months."
I don't know how she did it, but perhaps when he was crying with all a
baby's vigor for his supper the embryo diplomat in his heart shrewdly
caught the meaning in his mother's warning "hush, sh!" and, king and
tyrant tho' he was, he knew "that there was a greater than he," and
stilled his cries. Perhaps when the colic gripped his vitals he bore
the pain in unflinching silence, if he heard an Egyptian footstep near
the door. Perhaps he stopped his gooing and cooing in his hidden nest,
and held his very breath in fear, when he heard an Egyptian voice in
the house.
And all these three months he had been growing plump, and strong and
healthy, and I suppose he became a little reckless, or perchance he
began to think he knew more than his mother did about it, and wouldn't
keep still. Anyway, whatever was the matter I don't know, but there
came a day when "she could no longer hide him," and then she laid a
plot to baffle the king, defeat death and save the child.
Being an ambitious woman as well as a loving mother, she was not
content that he should be as other children, forced "to serve with
rigor" and his life made "bitter with hard bondage in mortar and
brick and in all manner of service of the field." I presume she
thought he was a little more beautiful and more clever than any child
that ever lived before, for we all do that when a baby comes without
an invitation and often against our most urgent wishes, and nestling
in our arms says, without uttering a word: "I've come to stay and I
want my supper; I'm hungry, for the journey has been long and
dark--and why don't you make haste?"
Perhaps she had caught the fire of the future statesman in his dark
eye; perhaps she had heard the ring of sublimity in the melodious
voice that afterward said "Honor thy father and thy mother." Perhaps
she had seen the shrewdness of the future great diplomat in his
maneuvers to have his baby way, and being a bright woman she set her
wits to work to defy the king, defeat his law and elude the cruel
vigilance of the Egyptian spies; and she conceived a plot which for
boldness of thought and shrewdness of execution stands unsurpassed.
She would not save him to live the toilsome, slavish life of the Jews.
She sighed for all the advantages of the Egyptians. She lifted her
ambitious eyes to the royal household itself, and in spite of the
accident of birth, in spite of king and law and hatred, in spite of
the fatal fact that he was a dark-eyed, dark-haired Jew, she vowed he
should mingle with royal nabobs, laugh and thrive and prosper under
the very eye of his enemy the king, be clothed in purple and fine
linen, skilled in all the arts and learned in all the sciences of the
Egyptians; and she was clever enough to see at a glance that in this
almost hopeless scheme she must have accomplices.
And where did she turn for aid? To her husband, as a meek, submissive
and obedient woman naturally would? Not at all. Perhaps she doubted
the intelligence of his assistance. Perhaps she had no faith in his
courage for the undertaking. Perhaps she did not believe he could keep
a secret; at any rate she refused to confide in him. I suppose, as no
mention is made of it, she utterly ignored him, scorned to ask his
advice, and planned to dispose of his child without telling him of it,
much less asking his permission.
But where did she turn for aid? Did she clothe herself in the gayest
costume of the Jews, and, conscious of her beauty, try with smiles
and coquetry and caressing touch to beguile the King? No. Did she
steal into the tent of his greatest general and kneeling at his feet
seek to bribe him with her love? No. She simply and utterly ignored
the men, and selected the King's own daughter as the instrument to
execute her design. She knew the royal girl came down to the river to
bathe, and trusting in her baby's great gift of unrivaled beauty and
the woman's compassion, she planned a dramatic surprise for her.
"And when she could not longer hide him, she took him an ark of
bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and pitch and put the child
therein. And she laid it among the flags by the river's brink." But
before she put him in it she bathed him in perfumed water to make him
sweet, put on his prettiest dress, tied up his short sleeves with
something that just matched the color in his cheeks, and borrowed a
golden chain of an Egyptian woman to clasp about his milk-white neck.
Then she lined the ark with roses, laid a little pillow in the bottom,
put the baby softly in, partly closed the top to shield him from too
much light and air, and laid it among the flags by the river's brink;
and then the cleverness that had designed the scheme and the bravery
that had executed it so far, was overwhelmed by a mother's love and
she fled, and hid herself among the foliage and the reeds, too
frightened to watch the result; "but his sister stood afar off to wit
what would be done to him."
And the baby had a nice time while he waited, for the wind with
noiseless feet and invisible hands came and softly rocked the cradle
to and fro; the sunbeams sent a bright ray and put golden bracelets on
his wrists, which with the true instinct of human nature he tried to
catch and hold, and the birds coming down to wash in the rippling
waters peeped into the cradle, and, enraptured with the pretty sight,
forgot to bathe, but stopped to sing.
And the King's daughter and her maidens came laughing and singing down
to the river's brink to bathe, as was their custom--a custom which
baby's mother knew about and took advantage of.
[Illustration: "PUT UP HIS HANDS IN WELCOME AND SAID 'AH, GOO! AH,
GOO!'"]
And the girls spied the basket and wondered what it was, and finally
the royal damsel "sent her maid to fetch it." And Pharaoh's
daughter opened it and "she saw the child," and the girls crowded
around and gazed in silent admiration. Then the baby, who never before
had seen the purple and fine linen of majesty or the sparkling jewels
of wealth, knowing this was the opportunity of his life put up his
hands in welcome and said in the universal language of babyhood, "Ah,
goo! ah, goo!" He was a worthy child of a great mother, and the minute
he was left to himself he came before the footlights and with one word
captivated his audience, and a storm of kisses fell upon his lips and
neck and arms. And when the girls ceased lest they should kiss him to
death, he looked at them a minute, and then he opened his mouth and
laughed a little soft, gurgling laugh; a laugh so sweet that I'm sure
even the terrible God of the Jews must have smiled had he heard it.
He didn't laugh because he felt particularly funny, but because the
little diplomat, bent on conquest, wanted to show a tiny tooth that
came into his mouth one day, he didn't know how.
He had never seen it himself, but he knew it was there and was a
treasure, for one time in the dead of the night when all his dread
enemies, the Egyptians, were fast asleep, and the wind howled and the
rain beat upon the roof, his mother brought his father to his hiding
place and holding the light high up above his head, she touched him
lightly under the chin and said: "Laugh, now, and show papa baby's
tooth." Then he did as he was told and his father looked long and
carefully and then laughed too, kissed him and went away.
When the girls saw it they all smiled and kissed him too.
About this time he wanted his mother and "the babe wept."
When the king's daughter saw his red lips quivering and the tears
hanging on his long, curling lashes, love and compassion filled her
heart, and thinking of her father's wicked command: "Every son that is
born ye shall cast into the river," she said, sadly, "this is one of
the Hebrews' children."
Then his sister--I suppose it was the same one who had "stood afar off
to wit what would be done to him" and who had approached--said, "Shall
I go and call to thee a nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse
the child for thee?"
"And Pharaoh's daughter said to her, 'Go.' And the maid went and
called the child's mother."
"And Pharaoh's daughter said unto her, 'Take this child away and nurse
it for me and I will give thee thy wages.' And the woman took the
child and nursed it." Wasn't that the sublimest conquering of ambition
and crime by love ever known?
[Illustration: (And every kiss strengthened her determination.)]
I suppose the King's daughter went every day to see the little
black-eyed beauty and kiss his rosy lips, his soft white neck, his
dimpled arms; and every kiss strengthened her determination to defy
the King, her father and the law, and save this baby for her own.
I don't know how she managed it, but somehow she overcame all
obstacles, and they were many and great there is no doubt, and "he
became her son," and the future lawgiver of the Jews, and the world
was saved.
And so after all we owe the ten commandments to a Jewish woman's wit,
strategy and love, and an Egyptian woman's compassion and
disobedience, for the stern command that "Every son that is born ye
shall cast into the river" was not given to the army, the navy or the
church, to one man or woman, to doctors or midwives, but to "all the
people," and in this affair there were a number of women, who all
connived to foil the "powers that be" and refused to do the King's
bidding. First there was the mother of Moses and the sister, the
King's daughter, her maid and "her maidens" who came down to the
river's brink with her, at least two of them and perhaps twenty.
I fail to find in their example any of the vaunted submission,
obedience and docility we have been taught by those who did not read
their Bible intelligently, or took some other person's "say-so" for
it, and which are the vaunted characteristics of all these women.
They just simply scorned all the men and the laws whenever they did
not suit their ideas of right and justice, and proceeded to have their
own way in spite of everything.
ANOTHER OF "THE MISTAKES OF MOSES."
ANOTHER OF "THE MISTAKES OF MOSES."
"And it came to pass in those days, when Moses was grown, that he went
out unto his brethren and looked on their burdens, and he spied an
Egyptian smiting an Hebrew, one of his brethren.
"And he looked this way and that way, and when he saw that there was
no man, he slew the Egyptian, and hid him in the sand."
Yet we are told a little farther on "Now the man Moses was very meek,
above all the men which were upon the face of the earth." But we
haven't anything to do with his meekness, and only mention the murder
because thereby hangs the tale of Moses' first love affair.
"Murder will out," and so in due course of time the King heard about
it and "sought to slay Moses." "But Moses fled from the face of
Pharaoh, and dwelt in the land of Midian, and he sat down by a well."
Now when we read about the young men of the Bible hanging around a
"well" we know what is going to happen. There is romance in the air
and a love affair soon develops, for that seems to have been love's
trysting place. And I suppose he neglected no artifice of the toilet
that might enchance his personal charms, that he donned the most
costly and elegant of his Egyptian costumes, flung himself in courtly
indolence upon the sand, and waited and watched eagerly for the rich
girls to come down to the well to water their father's flocks, just as
one watches in the twilight for the first star to sparkle in the azure
overhead, for the first sunbeam of the morning or the first rose of
June.
"Now the priest of Midian had seven daughters, and they came and drew
water and filled the troughs to water their father's flock. And the
shepherds came and drove them away, but Moses stood up and helped
them, and watered their flock."