I am the Lord, and there is none else. I form the light, and create
darkness; I make peace, and create evil. I the Lord do all these
things.--ISAIAH, xiv. 6, 7.
Did not our God bring all this evil upon us?--NEHEMIAH, xiii. 18.
[Greek: Ouk eoike d' hŕ physis epeisodi˘dŕs ousa ek t˘n phainomen˘n,
h˘sper mochthŕra trag˘dia.]--ARISTOTLE, _Metaphysica_, xiii. 3.
[Illustration]
I
_The Serpent's Promise to the Woman_
"Your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing
good and evil." _Genesis_ iii. 5.
The legend in which the serpent is represented as giving this counsel to
the mother of mankind occurs at the beginning of the Pentateuch in the
form which that collection of writings assumed after the return of the
Jews from the captivity at Babylon, and there is good reason for
believing that it was first placed there at that time. Allusions to Eden
in the Old Testament literature are extremely scarce,[1] and the story
of Eve's temptation first assumes prominence in the writings of St.
Paul. The marks of Zoroastrian thought in it have often been pointed
out. This garden of Eden is a true Persian paradise, situated somewhere
in that remote wonderland of Aryana VaŰjo to which all Iranian tradition
is so fond of pointing back. The wily serpent is a genuine Parsee
serpent, and the spirit which animates him is that of the malicious and
tricksome Ahriman, who takes delight in going about after the good
creator Ormuzd and spoiling his handiwork. He is not yet identified with
the terrible Satan, the accusing angel who finds out men's evil thoughts
and deeds. He is simply a mischief-maker, and the punishment meted out
to him for his mischief reminds one of many a curious passage in the
beast epos of primitive peoples. As in the stories which tell why the
mole is blind or why the fox has a bushy tail, the serpent's conduct is
made to account for some of his peculiar attributes. As a punishment he
is made to crawl upon his belly, and be forever an object of especial
dread and loathing to all the children of Eve.
What, then, is the crime for which the serpent Ahriman thus makes bitter
expiation? In what way has he spoiled Ormuzd's last and most wonderful
creation? He has introduced the sense of sin: the man and the woman are
afraid, and hide themselves from their Lord whom they have offended. Yet
he has been not altogether a deceiving serpent. In one respect he had
spoken profound truth. The man and the woman have become as gods. In the
Hebrew story Jehovah says, "Behold the man is become as one of us;" that
is to say, one of the Elohim or heavenly host, who know the good and the
evil. Man has apparently become a creature against whom precautions need
to be taken. It is hinted that by eating of the other tree and acquiring
immortal life he would achieve some result not in accordance with
Jehovah's will, yet which it would then be too late to prevent.
Accordingly, any such proceedings are forestalled by driving the man and
woman from the garden, and placing sentinels there with a fiery sword
which turns hither and thither to warn off all who would tread the path
that leads to the tree of life. The anthropomorphism of the story is as
vivid as in those Homeric scenes in which gods and men contend with one
another in battle. It is plainly indicated that Jehovah's wrath is
kindled at man's presumption in meddling with what belongs only to the
Elohim; man is punished for his arrogance in the same spirit as when,
later on, he gives his daughters in marriage to the sons of the Elohim
and brings on a deluge, or when he strives to build a tower that will
reach to heaven and is visited with a confusion of tongues. So here in
Eden he has come to know too much, and Ahriman's heinous crime has
consisted in helping him to this interdicted knowledge.
The serpent's promise to the woman was worthy of the wisest and most
astute of animals. But with yet greater subtlety he might have declared,
Except ye acquire the knowledge of good and evil, ye cannot come to be
as gods; divine life can never be yours. Throughout the Christian world
this legend of the lost paradise has figured as the story of the Fall of
Man; and naturally, because of the theological use of it made by St.
Paul, who first lifted the story into prominence in illustrating his
theory of Christ as the second Adam: since by man came death into the
world, by man came also the resurrection from death and from sin. That
there is truth of the most vital sort in the Pauline theory is
undeniable; but there are many things that will bear looking at from
opposite points of view, for aspects of truth are often to be found on
both sides of the shield, and there is a sense in which we may regard
the loss of paradise as in itself the beginning of the Rise of Man. For
this, indeed, we have already found some justification in the legend
itself. It is in no spirit of paradox that I make this suggestion. The
more patiently one scrutinizes the processes whereby things have come to
be what they are, the more deeply is one impressed with its profound
significance.