story of the Fall. The similarity is intelligible when we remember that
all the literature of the ancient Jews was put into its present form by
the learned scribes who returned with the remnant of the people from the
Babylonish captivity, and who were full of the ideas that obtained in
the Persian religion as reformed by the traditional Zoroaster.
As we have said, the Hebrew story of the Fall contains clear relics of
Tree and Serpent worship. There is also abundant proof that during the
long ages in which the Jews oscillated between polytheism and monotheism
this worship largely prevailed. Even up to the reign of Hezekiah, as we
find in the Second Book of Kings, the serpent was worshipped in groves,
to the great anger of the king, who cast out the idolatry from among his
people.
Having explained the subject thus, let us now assume with orthodox
Christians that the serpent in Eden was animated by the Devil, or was
indeed the Devil himself incarnate.
We have already observed that the Devil excels his three rivals in
wisdom and in power. While they were toiling so strenuously to create
the world and all that therein is, he quietly stood or sat by as a
spectator. "All right," he might have murmured, "work away as hard as
you please. You've more strength than sense. My turn will soon come.
When the job is finished we shall see to whom all this belongs." When
the work was completed and they had pronounced all things good, in
stepped the Devil, and in the twinkling of an eye rendered imperfect
all that they had so labored to create perfect;'turning everything
topsy-turvey, seducing the first pair of human beings, sowing the seeds
of original sin, and at one stroke securing the wholesale damnation
of our race. What were they about, to let him do all this with such
consummate ease? Surely they must have slept like logs, and thus left
the whole game in his hands. He made himself the "prince of this
world," although they created it; and if those may laugh who win, he was
entitled to roar out his mirth to the shaking of the spheres.
Besides being the prince of this world and of the powers of darkness,
the Devil is described as the father of lies. This, however, is a gross
libel on his character. Throughout the contest with his rivals he played
with perfect fairness. And from Genesis to Revelation there can be
adduced no single instance in which he departs from the strict line of
truth. On one occasion when Jehovah desired a lying spirit to go forth
and prophesy falsely to his people, he found one ready to his hand in
heaven and had no need to trouble Satan for a messenger. The Lord God
had told Adam, "Of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thow shalt
not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thow shalt surely
die." Nay, said the Devil, when he began business "ye shall not surely
die; for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes
shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." Every
word of his speech was true. Instead of dying "in the day" that he ate
of the fruit Adam lived to the fine old age of nine hundred and thirty
years.
And after the "fall" the Lord God said, "Behold, the man is become as
one of us, to know good and evil." The Devil's truthfulness is thus
amply vindicated.
Satan's visit to Eve was paid in the form of a serpent. She manifested
no astonishment at being accosted by such a creature. It may be that the
whole menagerie of Eden spoke in the human tongue, and that Balaam's
ass was only what the biologists would call "a case of reversion" to
the primitive type. Josephus and most of the Fathers conceived of the
serpent as having had originally a human voice and legs; so that if he
could not have walked about with Eve arm in arm, he might at least have
accompanied her in a dance. Milton, however, discredits the legs, and
represents the serpent thus:
"Not with indented wave,
Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear,
Circular base of rising folds, that towered,
Fold above fold, a surging maze, his head
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes;
With burnish'd neck of verdant gold, erect
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass
Floated redundant."
Very splendid! But the doctors differ, and who shall decide? What
followed the eating of the forbidden fruit we have dealt with in "Eve
and the Apple." We shall therefore at once come to the curse pronounced
upon the serpent "And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou
hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast
of the field; upon thy belly shalt thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all
the days of thy life: and I will put enmity between thee and the woman,
and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou
shalt bruise his heel."
The final portion of this curse is flagrantly mythological Among the
Hindoos, Krishna also, as the incarnation of Vishnu, is represented
now as treading on the bruised head of a conquered serpent, and now
as entwined by it, and stung in the heel. In Egyptian pictures and
sculptures, likewise, the serpent is seen pierced through the head by
the spear of the goddess Isis. The "enmity" between mankind and the
serpent is, however, not universal Amongst the Zulus the snake is held
in great veneration, as their dead ancestors are supposed to reappear in
that form; and in ancient times, as we have already observed, serpents
were actually worshipped.
The middle portion of the curse has not yet been fulfilled. The serpent
lives on more nutritious food than dust. In the Zoological Gardens the
inmates of the serpent-house enjoy a more solid diet The fact is, we
have here an oriental superstition. Kalisch points out that "the great
scantiness of food? on which the serpent can subsist, gave rise to the
belief, entertained by many Eastern nations, that they eat dust." This
belief is referred to in Micah vii, 17, Isaiah lxv., 25, and elsewhere
in the Bible. Among the Indians the serpent is believed to live on wind.
That the serpent "goes" upon its "belly" is, of course, a fact. Before
the curse it must have moved about in some other way. Milton's poetical
solution of the difficulty we have already given. During the Middle Ages
those seraphic doctors of theology, who gravely argued how many angels
could dance on the point of a needle, speculated also on the serpent's
method of locomotion before the "fall." Some thought the animal had
legs, some that it undulated gracefully on its back, and others that it
hopped about on its tail. The ever bold Delitzsch decides that "its
mode of motion and its form were changed," but closes the controversy
by adding, "of the original condition of the serpent it is, certainly,
impossible to frame to ourselves a conjecture." All this is mere
moonshine. Geology, as Colenso remarks, shows us that the serpent was
the same kind of creature as it is now, in the ages long before man
existed on the earth.
Why the serpent was cursed at all is a question which no Christian can
answer. The poor animal was seized, mastered, occupied, and employed by
the Devil, and was therefore absolutely irresponsible for what occurred.
It had committed no offence, and consequently the curse upon it,
according to Christian doctrine, was a most brutal and wanton outrage.
Having done such a splendid stroke of business in Eden, the Devil
retired, quite satisfied that the direction he had given to the affairs
of this world was so strong and certain as to obviate the necessity of
his personal supervision. Fifteen centuries later the human race had
grown so corrupt that God (that is, the three persons in one) resolved
to drown them all; preserving, however, eight live specimens to repeople
the world. How the Devil must have laughed again! He knew that Noah
and his family possessed the seeds of original sin, which they would
assuredly transmit to their children, and thus prolong the corruption
through all time. Short-sighted as ever, Jehovah refrained from
completing the devastation, after which he might have started afresh. So
sure was the Devil's grip on God's creation that, a few centuries after
the Flood, there were not found ten righteous men in the whole city of
Sodom, and no doubt other cities were almost as bad.
According to the Bible, the Devil's long spell of rest was broken in
the reign of King David, the man after God's own heart, but a very great
scoundrel nevertheless. The Second Book of Samuel (xxiv., 1) tells us
that "Again the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he
moved David against them to say, Go, number Israel and Judah." Now the
First Book of Chronicles (xxi, 1) in relating the same incident says,
"And Satan stood up against Israel, and provoked David to number Israel"
Who shall reconcile this discrepancy? Was it God, was it Satan, or was
it both? Imagine David with the celestial and infernal powers whispering
the same counsel into either ear! A Scotch minister once told us that
this difficulty was only apparent. The Devil, said he, exercises only
a delegated power, and acts only by the express or tacit permission of
God; so that it matters not which is said to have provoked David. Yes,
but what of the consequences? Because the king, despite all protests,
took a census of his people, the Lord sent a destroying angel, who slew
by pestilence seventy thousand of them. Where, in the whole history of
religion, shall we find a viler sample of divine injustice?
Besides, if the Devil acts in all cases only by God's permission, the
latter is responsible for all the former's wrongdoing. The principal,
and not the agent, must bear the guilt. And this suggests a curious
problem. Readers of "Robinson Crusoe" will remember that when Man Friday
was undergoing a course of theological instruction, he puzzled
his master by asking why God did not convert the Devil. To his
unsophisticated mind it was plain that the conversion of the Devil would
annihilate sin. Robinson Crusoe changed the subject to avoid looking
foolish, but Man Friday's question remains in full force. Why does not
God convert the Devil? The great Thomas Aquinas is reported to have
prayed for the Devil's conversion through a whole long night. Robert
Burns concludes his "Address to the Deil" with a wish that he "wad tak
a thought an' men'." And Sterne, in one of his wonderful strokes of
pathos, makes Corporal Trim say of the Devil, "He is damned already,
your honor;" whereupon, "I am sorry for it," quoth Uncle Toby. Why, oh
why, we repeat, does not God convert the Devil, and thus put a stop for
ever to the damnation of mankind? Why do not the clergy pray without
cease for that one object? Because they dare not. The Devil is their
best friend. Abolish him, and disestablish hell, and their occupation
would be gone. They must stick to their dear Devil, as their most
precious possession, their stock-in-trade, their talisman of power,
without whom they were worse than nothing.
The Devil's adventures in the Book of Job are very amusing. One day
there was a drawing-room or _levée_ held in heaven. The sons of God
attended, and Satan came also among them. He seems to have so closely
resembled the rest of the company that only God detected the difference.
This is not surprising, for the world has seen some very godly sons of
God, so very much like the Devil, that if he met one of them in a dark
lane by night, he might almost suspect it to be his own ghost. God, who
knows everything, as usual asked a number of questions. Where had Satan
been, and what had he been doing? Satan replied, like a gentleman of
independent means, that he had been going to and fro in the earth, and
walking up and down in it. "Well," said the Lord, "have you observed my
servant Job? What a good man! perfect and upright I'm proud of him."
Oh yes, Satan had observed him. He keeps a sharp eye on all men. As old
Bishop Latimer said, whatever parson is out of his parish the Devil
is always in his. "Doth Job fear God for nought?" said Satan. "He is
wealthy, prosperous, happy, and respected; you fence him about from
evil; but just let trouble come upon him, and he will curse thee to thy
face." This was a new view of the subject; the Lord had never seen it
in this light before. So he determined to make an experiment. With God's
sanction Satan went forth to afflict Job. He despoiled his substance,
slaughtered his children, covered him with sore boils from head to foot,
and then set on his wife to "nag" him. But Job triumphed; he did not
curse God, and thus Satan was foiled. Subsequently Job became richer
than ever and more renowned, while a fresh family grew up around his
knees. "So," say the Christians, "all's well that ends well!" Not so,
however; for there remains uneffaced the murder of Job's children, who
were hurriedly despatched out of the world in the very midst of their
festivity. When the celestial and infernal powers play at conundrums, it
is a great pity that they do not solve them up above or down below,
and leave the poor denizens of this world free from the havoc of their
contention.
In the New Testament, as in the Old, the Devil appears early on the
scene. After his baptism in Jordan, Jesus was "led up of the spirit in
the wilderness to be tempted of the Devil." When he had fasted forty
days and nights he "was afterward hungered." Doctor Tanner overlooked
this. The hunger of Jesus only began on the forty-first day. The Devil
requests Jesus to change the stones into bread, but he declines to do
so. Then he sets him "on a pinnacle of the temple" in Jerusalem, and
desires him to throw himself down. Jesus must have been exceedingly
_sharp set_ in that position. Meanwhile, where was the Devil posted?
He could scarcely have craned his neck up so as to hold a confabulation
with Jesus from the streets, and we must therefore suppose that he was
sharp set on another pinnacle. A pretty sight they must have been for
the Jews down below! That temptation failing, the Devil takes Jesus "up
into an exceeding high mountain, and showeth him _all_ the kingdoms of
the world, and the glory of them." This is remarkably like seeing
round a corner, for however high we go we cannot possibly see the whole
surface of a globe at once. "All these things," says Satan, "will I give
thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me." What a generous Devil! They
already belonged to Jesus, for doth not Scripture say the earth is the
Lord's and the fulness thereof?--a text which should now read "the
earth is the landlords' and the emptiness thereof." This temptation also
fails, and the Devil retires in disgust.
What a pretty farce! Our burlesques and pantomimes are nothing to it.
Satan knew Jesus, and Jesus knew Satan. Jesus knew that Satan would
tempt him, and Satan knew that Jesus knew it. Jesus knew that Satan
could not succeed, and Satan knew so too. Yet they kept the farce up
night and day, for no one knows how long; and our great Milton in his
"Paradise Regained" represents this precious pair arguing all day long,
Satan retiring after sunset, and Jesus lying down hungry, cold and wet,
and rising in the morning with damp clothes to renew the discussion.
Soon after Jesus went into the country of the Gergesenes, where he met
two fierce men possessed with devils whom he determined to exorcise, The
devils (for _the_ Devil had grown numerous by then), not liking to be
turned adrift on the world, without home or shelter, besought Jesus
to let them enter the bodies of an herd of swine feeding by. This he
graciously permitted. The devils left the men and entered the swine;
whereupon the poor pigs, experiencing a novel sensation, never having
had devils inside them before, "ran violently down a steep place into
the sea, and perished in the waters." Whether the devils were drowned
with the pigs this veracious history saith not. But the pigs themselves
were not paid for. Jesus wrought the miracle at other people's expense.
And the inhabitants of that part took precisely this view of the case.
For "the whole city came out to meet Jesus: and when they saw him, they
besought him that he would depart out of their coasts." No doubt they
reflected that if he remained working miracles of that kind, at the end
of a week not a single pig would be left alive in the district. Entering
in Genesis, the Devil appropriately makes his exit in Revelation. The
twelfth chapter of that holy nightmare describes him as "a great red
dragon, having seven heads, and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his
heads; and his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven, and did
cast them to the earth." What a tail! The writer's ideas of size were
very chaotic. Bringing a third part of the stars of heaven to this
earth, is much like trying to lodge a few thousand cannon-balls on the
surface of a bullet.
Finally the Devil is to be "bound for a thousand years" in hell. Let us
hope the chain will be strong; for if it should break, the pit has no
bottom, and the Devil would go right through, coming out on the other
side to renew his old tricks.
Such is the Romance of the Bible Devil. Was ever a more ludicrous story
palmed off on a credulous world? The very clergy are growing ashamed
of it. But there it is, inextricably interwoven with the rest of the
"sacred" narrative, so that no skill can remove it without destroying
the whole fabric. The Devil has been the Church's best friend, but he
is doomed, and as their fraternal bond cannot be broken, he will drag it
down to irretrievable perdition.
THE TEN PLAGUES;
Or, HOW MOSES HARRIED EGYPT.
BIBLE ROMANCES.--5.
By G. W. FOOTE.
If a man who had never read the Bible before wished to amuse himself
during a spare hour among its pages, we should recommend him to try the
first fourteen chapters of Exodus. A more entertaining narrative was
never penned. Even the fascinating Arabian Nights affords nothing
better, provided we read it with the eyes of common sense, and without
that prejudice which so often blinds us to the absurdities of "God's
Word." At the end of the fourteenth chapter aforesaid, let the book be
closed, and then let the reader ask himself whether he ever met with a
more comical story. We have no doubt as to his answer; and we feel
assured that he will agree with the poet Cowper in thinking that God
_does_ "move in a mysterious way his wonders to perform." Two hundred
and fifteen years after the arrival of Israel in Egypt, God's chosen
people had fallen into slavery. Yet they were exceedingly prolific, so
that "the land was filled with them." Afraid of their growing numbers,
Pharaoh "spake to the Hebrew midwives" and told them to kill all their
male children at birth and leave only the daughters alive. This
injunction the midwives very, properly disobeyed, excusing themselves on
the ground that "the Hebrew women were lively and were delivered ere the
midwives came in unto them." Had they obeyed Pharaoh, the Jewish race
would have been extinguished, and Judaism and Christianity been never
heard of.
But the comical fact as to these midwives is that there were only two
of them, Shiphrah and Puah. What a busy pair they must have been! What
patterns of ubiquitous industry! When the Jews quitted Egypt soon after
they mustered six hundred thousand men, besides women and children. Now,
supposing all these were collected together in one city, its size would
equal that of London. How could two midwives possibly attend to all
the confinements among such a population? And how much more difficult
would their task be if the population were scattered over a wide area,
as was undoubtedly the case with the Jews! Words fail us to praise
the miraculous activity of these two ladies. Like the peace of God, it
passes all understanding.
One of the male children born under the iron rule of Pharaoh was Moses,
the son of Amram and Jochebed. The incidents of his eventful life will
be fully recorded in our series of "Bible Heroes." Suffice it here to
say that he was adopted and brought up by Pharaoh's daughter; that he
became skilled in all the learning of the Egyptians; that he privily
slew an Egyptian who-had maltreated a Hebrew, and was obliged therefore
to flee to the land of Midian, where he married Zipporah, a daughter of
Jethro the priest. At this time Moses was getting on to his eightieth
year. Now-a-days a man of that age sees only the grave before him, and
has pretty nearly closed his account with the world. But in those days
it was different. At the age of eighty Moses was just beginning his
career. He was indeed a very astonishing old boy.