when lo! a strange vision greeted his eyes. The "angel of the Lord
appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush," which
burned without consuming. By "angel" we are to understand a vision or
appearance only, for the being within the bush was God Almighty himself;
and throughout the rest of the narrative the word "angel" is entirely
dropped, only Lord or God being used. Moses approached this wonderful
sight; but the Lord called out to him, "Draw not nigh hither: put off
thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy
ground." Thereupon Moses hid his face "for he was afraid to look upon
God." Could anything be more ludicrous! Fancy God, the infinite spirit
of the universe, secreting himself in a bush and setting it on fire,
just to make a little display for the benefit of Moses! Our wonder,
however, is presently lessened; for this God turns out to be only
Jehovah "the Lord God of the Hebrews," a mere local deity, who cared
only for his own people, and was quite ready to slaughter any number of
the inhabitants of adjacent countries, besides being bitterly jealous
of their gods. The utmost claimed for him is that he is the biggest God
extant, and quite capable of thrashing all the other gods with one
hand tied behind his back. He had heard the cries of his people and had
determined to rescue them from bondage. He had also resolved to give
Pharaoh and the Egyptians a taste of his quality, so that they might be
forced to-admit his superiority to their gods. "I will let them know,"
said he to Moses, "who I am, and you shall be my agent. We'll confound
their impudence before we've done with them. But don't let us be in a
hurry, for the little drama I have devised requires a good deal of time.
You go to Egypt and ask Pharaoh to let my people go. But don't suppose
he will consent. That wouldn't suit my plans at all. I have decided to
set you two playing at the little game of 'pull Moses, pull Pharaoh,'
and I shall harden his heart against your demands so that there may be
a fierce tussle. But don't be afraid. I am on your side, and just at the
end of the game I'll join in and pull Pharaoh clean over. And mind you
tell him all along that it is my power and not yours which works all
the wonders I mean you to perform, for you are only my instrument, and
I want all the glory myself. Play fair, Moses, play fair!" Moses was
not unwilling to engage in this enterprise, but like a prudent Jew he
required certain assurances of success. He therefore first raised an
objection as to his own insignificance--"Who am I, that I should go unto
Pharaoh?" To which God replied, "Certainly I will be with thee; and
this shall be a token unto thee, that I have sent thee: When thou hast
brought forth the people out of Egypt, ye shall serve God upon this
mountain." Moses, however, required a much less remote token than this;
so he again objected that nobody would believe him. Thereupon the Lord
bade him cast his rod on the ground, and lo! it became a serpent Moses
very naturally fled before it, till the Lord told him not to run away
but to take it by the tail. He did so, and it became again a rod in his
hand. Then the Lord bade him put his hand in his bosom, and on taking it
out he found it was "leprous as snow." Again he put it in his bosom, and
when he plucked it out it was once more sound and well. "There," said
the Lord, "those signs will do in Egypt. When you evince them nobody
will doubt you." Still hesitant, Moses objected that he was very slow of
speech. So he frankly desired the Lord to send someone else. No wonder
the Lord grew angry at this persistent reluctance; nevertheless he
restrained himself, and informed Moses that his brother Aaron, who was
a good speaker, should accompany him. The prudent prophet seems to have
been at length satisfied. At any rate he made no further objection,
but after a little further conversation with the Lord, who was very
talkative, he set forth on his journey to Egypt.
Singular to relate, the Lord met Moses at an inn on the road, and,
instead of wishing him good-speed, sought to kill him. What a strange
God, to be sure! Why did he want to kill his own messenger? And why, if
he wanted to kill him, did he not succeed in doing it? Truly the ways
of God are past finding out. The only reason discoverable for this queer
conduct is that Moses' boy was uncircumcised. Zipporah, his wife, took a
sharp stone and performed the rite of circumcision herself, casting the
amputated morsel at the feet of the boy's father, with the remark that
he was "a bloody husband." The Lord's anger was thereby appeased, and
the text naively says that he then let Moses go.
Prompted by the Lord, Aaron went out into the wilderness to meet Moses,
and they soon appeared together before "all the elders of the children
of Israel," who readily believed in their mission when they heard
Aaron's account of the Lord's conversation with Moses, and saw the
wonderful signs. Afterwards the two brothers visited Pharaoh, but God
had hardened his heart; so he denied all knowledge of the Lord, and
refused to let Israel go. On the contrary, he commanded the taskmaskers
to be even more rigorous with them, and, instead of giving them straw to
make bricks, as theretofore, to make them gather straw for themselves.
And when they complained, Pharaoh replied that they were an idle lot,
and only wanted to go out and sacrifice to the Lord in order to avoid
work. Whereupon they remonstrated with Moses for his interference,
and he, in turn, remonstrated with God in very plain and disrespectful
language. "Nonsense!" said the Lord, "now you shall see what I will do
to Pharaoh."
Again Pharaoh was visited by the two brothers, who this time commenced
to work the miracle. Aaron cast down his rod, and it became a serpent.
But the magicians of Egypt, who were present by invitation of the King,
were in nowise astonished. "Oh," said they, "is that all you can do?"
Saying which, every man of them threw down his rod, and it also became
a serpent. That was indeed an age of miracles! The magicians of Egypt
wrought this wonder without any help from the Lord, and solely "with
their enchantments." Here, then, was a pretty fix! So far, neither
side had any advantage. Presently, however, Aaron's serpent--which thus
proved itself a truly Jewish one--created a diversion by swallowing all
the others up. We must suppose that it afterwards disgorged them, or
else that Aaron's, rod was exceedingly stout when he got it back.
Pharaoh's heart remained obdurate, notwithstanding this sign, and he
still refused to let the people go. And then the plagues commenced.
The first was a plague of blood. Aaron stretched forth his rod, and
_all_ the waters of Egypt, the streams, the rivers, the ponds, and the
pools became blood. Even the water in vessels of stone and wood was
ensanguined. The fish all died, and the river stank; and "there was
blood throughout all the land of Egypt." This was a good start, but the
magicians of Egypt beat it hollow; for, after Aaron had turned _all_ the
water of Egypt into blood, they turned the _rest_ into blood. No wonder
that Pharaoh's heart remained hardened! He quietly walked into his house
and let the subject drop.
Seven days later Moses went again to Pharaoh and said, "Thus saith
the Lord, let my people go." And Pharaoh said, "I won't." "Won't you?"
answered Moses, "we shall see." Forthwith Aaron stretched forth his rod
over the streams, rivers, and ponds, and brought on the second plague
in the shape of frogs, which swarmed all over the land. They entered the
houses, penetrated to the bedrooms, mounted the beds, slipped into the
kneading-troughs, and even got into the ovens, although one would expect
frogs to give such hot places a very wide berth. What a squelching
of frogs there must have been! The Egyptians could not have stood
absolutely still, and the land was covered with them. Still unfoiled,
the magicians, "with their enchantments, followed suit, and brought
up frogs too." Yet, as the land was already covered with frogs, it is
difficult to see how the new comers found room, unless they got on the
backs of the others, and went hopping about in couples. Pharaoh now
relented. He called for Moses, and said, "Intreat your Lord to take away
these nasty frogs, and I will let the people go." "That will I," said
Moses, "and you shall know that there is none like unto the Lord our
God." The next day the frogs died out of the houses, villages, and
fields, and were gathered into heaps, so that again "the land stank."
But when Pharaoh saw that there was respite, he hardened his heart
again, "as the Lord had said."
The third act of this tragi-comedy was decisive in one sense, for in
it the magicians of Egypt were obliged to retire from the competition.
Aaron stretched forth his rod again and smote the dust of the earth, all
of which instantly became _lice_, in man and in beast. Before this dirty
miracle the magicians of Egypt shrank dismayed. They made a feeble and
altogether unsuccessful attempt to imitate Aaron's performance, and then
drew back, declining to continue the contest. The lice settled them.
"This," said they, "is the finger of God." But Pharaoh still refused to
knuckle under. Even against the force of this supreme wonder his heart
was steeled.
So the fourth plague came. A grievous swarm of flies descended on Egypt,
so that "the land was corrupted by reason of them. But not a single
fly crossed over into the land of Goshe" where the Jews dwelt. Thereupon
Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron, and told them he was willing to
let their people go and sacrifice to the Lord for three days, but not
outside Egypt. Moses reiterated his demand for a three days' journey
into the wilderness. Whereto Pharaoh replied that they might go, but
"not too far." Moses then undertook to banish the flies. And he was as
good as his word; for there was made such a clean sweep of them that
"not one remained." This precious narrative always runs to extremes.
Egypt without a fly in it would be in a very abnormal condition. At
ordinary times the land is infested with flies; so much so, indeed, that
large numbers of the people suffer from diseased eyes, in consequence
of these insects incessantly fastening on the sores caused by the
irritating sand which fills the air. It was absurd for this Hebrew
story-teller to scotch the last fly; he should have left sufficient to
maintain the character of the country.
Again Pharaoh's heart was hardened, and when the flies were banished
he refused to "let the people go." So the fifth plague came. A "very
grievous murrain," which spared the cattle of Israel, broke out on the
cattle of Egypt, and with such virulence that they all died. Pharaoh
found on inquiry that there was "not one of the cattle of the Israelites
dead," yet for all that his heart was hardened, and he would not let the
people go.
So the sixth plague came. Aaron took "handfuls of ashes of the furnace,"
which Moses sprinkled towards heaven, and "it became a boil breaking
forth with blains upon man and _upon beast_." Even the magicians were
afflicted. Now the readers will bear in mind that _all_ the cattle of
Egypt were killed by the fifth, plague. What beasts, then, were these
tortured with boils? Were they dead carcasses, or were they live cattle
miraculously created in the interim? Surely this is a thing which "no
fellah can understand." From the serpent of Eden to Jonah's whale, the
animals of the Bible are a queer lot.
Pharaoh's heart remaining still hardened, God commanded Moses to make
a special appeal to him, and to get up early in the morning for that
purpose. So Moses stood before Pharaoh and said, "Thus saith the Lord
God of the Hebrews, let my people go, that they may serve me. If you
refuse I shall plague you and your people worse than ever, and so teach
you that there is none like me in all the earth. Don't puff yourself up
with conceit, for you were made what you are only in order that through
you my power might be manifested. You had better cave in at once." But
Pharaoh would not harken. He tacitly declared that the Lord God of the
Hebrews might go to Jericho.
So the seventh plague came. A fierce hail, accompanied by fire that ran
along the ground, smote all that was in the field, both man and beast.
It smote also _every_ herb of the field and brake _every_ tree of the
field. Only those were saved who "feared the Lord" and stayed in doors
with their servants and cattle. Fortunately the wheat and the rice were
spared, as they were not grown up; or there would have been a famine in
Egypt compared with which the seven years of scarcity in Joseph's time
had sunk into insignificance. Pharaoh now relented and repented. "I have
sinned this time," he said, "the Lord is righteous, and I and my people
are wicked." And Moses, seeing that the king had recognised Jehovah
as the true cock of the theological walk, procured a cessation of the
thunder and the hail. But lo! when Pharaoh perceived this, he hardened
his heart again, and "sinned yet more." The obduracy of this potentate,
under the manipulation of God, is really becoming monotonous. So the
eighth plague came. After a day and a night of east wind, a prodigious
swarm of locusts went up over the land of Egypt, covering the face of
the whole earth, and darkening the ground. They "did eat every herb of
the land, and all the fruit of the trees which the hail had spared." But
we were told that the hail smote _every_ herb, and brake _every_ tree.
What then was left for the locusts to eat? The writer of this narrative
had a very short memory, or else a stupendous power of belief.
Again Pharaoh confessed that he had sinned. The locusts were cleared
away, and so effectually that "not one remained." But "the Lord hardened
Pharaoh's heart" for the eighth time, and he refused to let the people
go. Whereupon Moses brought darkness over the land of Egypt, a thick
darkness that might be felt. This thick darkness lasted in Egypt for
three days, during which time the people "saw not one another, neither
rose any from his place." We presume, therefore, that they all starved
for that time. Poor devils! What had they done to be treated thus? All
the children of Israel, however, had light in their dwellings. Why then
did they not avail themselves of such a fine opportunity to escape? It
was a splendid chance, yet they let it slip. Perhaps Moses did not give
the word, and they were like a flock of sheep without him. Perhaps
they wished to stay and see the rest of the fun. For more was coming,
although it was anything but fun to the poor Egyptians.
To them indeed it was an awful tragedy such as we lack words to
describe. Moses commanded the Jews to take a male lamb for each
household, to kill it, and to daub its blood over the two side-posts and
on the upper door-posts of their houses. The flesh they were to eat
in the night, roasted, with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, as the
inauguration of the Passover. The Lord meant to pass through the land in
the dark, and slay all the firstborn in Egypt; and lest he should make
some mistakes he required the Jews' houses to be marked with blood so
that he might distinguish them. We should expect God to dispense with
such "aids to memory." What followed must be told in the language of
Scripture: "At midnight the Lord smote all the firstborn in the land
of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh that sat on the throne unto the
firstborn of the captive that was in the dungeon; and all the firstborn
of cattle. And Pharaoh rose up in the night, he, and all his servants,
and all the Egyptians; and there was a great cry in Egypt; for there was
not a house where there was not one dead." The reader's imagination will
picture the horror of this scene. That "great cry in Egypt" arose from
a people who were the first victims of God's hatred of all who stood
in the way of his chosen "set of leprous slaves." And in this case the
tragedy was the more awful, and the more inexcusably atrocious, because
God deliberately planned it. He could easily have softened Pharaoh's
heart, but he chose to harden it. He could have brought his people
out of Egypt in peace, but he preferred that they should start amidst
wailings of agony, and leave behind them a track of blood.
Yet in the tragedy there is a touch of comedy. Those beasts that were
first killed by the murrian and afterwards plagued by the boil, at last
lose their firstborn by the tenth plague. Besides, there is a touch of
the ludicrous in the statement that _every_ house had one dead. All the
firstborn of such a large population could not have been present at that
time. Some might have left Egypt for purposes of trade, and others would
certainly have been cut off before by death. The story of the tenth
plague, like the other nine, requires to be taken with a very large
grain of salt.
Pharaoh and the Egyptians were now anxious to get rid of the Jews. So
God's people departed in haste. They took good care, however, not to
go empty-handed. They "borrowed" of the Egyptians, without the remotest
intention of ever paying them back, jewels of silver, jewels of gold,
and raiment. In fact they "spoiled the Egyptians." In recent times the
modern Egyptians have wiped off that old score by spoiling a few Jewish
moneylenders, and so returned tit for tat.
God led his people past instead of through the land of the Philistines,
lest they should be frightened by war, and wish to return to Egypt. He
does not seem to have known their character. Considering the delight
with which they subsequently warred against their enemies, and the joy
they took in wholesale massacre, we are inclined to think that they
would have just liked to get their hands into the business of fighting
by trying conclusions with the Philistines. Moses carried off the bones
of Joseph, which must have been rather stale by that time. And God went
before the huge host of six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women
and children, and a mixed multitude of followers; by day in a pillar of
cloud, to lead them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire, to give
them light, until at length they found themselves encamped before the
Red Sea.
In the meanwhile God had again hardened Pharaoh's heart, for the
express purpose of killing some more Egyptians and getting more honor to
himself. The Israelites soon heard that Pharaoh was pursuing them with
an army, and they remembered his dreadful war chariots. They found
themselves literally between the devil and the deep sea. Whereupon they
murmured against Moses for bringing them out into the wilderness to die.
But he, disregarding them, stretched forth his miraculous rod over the
sea, and lo! the waters parted, forming a wall on either side of a safe
passage, through which the Jews travelled with dry feet. Pharaoh and
his host, however, attempting the same feat, were overwhelmed by
the down-rushing sea-ramparts, and all drowned. There remained, says
_Exodus_, not so much as one of them.
We have heard a different account of this affair. A negro preacher once
explained that the Red Sea, just at that time, was "a little bit frozen
over," and the Jews, carrying only what they had borrowed "frum the
Gyptians," crossed the ice safely; but when Pharaoh came with his
thundering war-chariots, the ice broke, and "dey all was drown'd." But a
nigger in the audience objected that the Red Sea is "in de quator," and
is never frozen over. "War did you larn dat?" asked the preacher. "In de
jografy," was the reply. "Ah," was the ready retort, "dat's war you made
de mistake; dis was a very long time ago, and dere was no jografy and no
quator den." That nigger preacher's explanation seems quite as good as
the one given by "Moses."
We leave the Jews with their Lord God on the safe side of the Red Sea,
where Moses heads the men in singing a joyful song of praise, and Miriam
the prophetess heads the women with timbrel and with dance. Jehovah has
ended his plaguing of the Egyptians, after more than decimating them. He
has covered his name with terrible splendour, and proved "that there is
none like him" to a world which is very happy to be assured of the fact.
Two such monsters would make earth a hell. Reader! did you ever meet
with a more extraordinary story than this of the Ten Plagues? and can
you regard the book which contains it as God's Word?
JONAH AND THE WHALE.
BIBLE ROMANCES.--6.
By G. W. FOOTE.
We have often wondered whether Shakespeare had the story of Jonah in
his mind when he wrote that brief dialogue between Hamlet and Polonius,
which immediately precedes the famous closet-scene in the Master's
greatest play--
Hamlet.--Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
Polonius.--By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
Hamlet.--Methinks it is like a weasel.
Polonius.--It is backed like a weasel.
Hamlet.--Or like a whale?
Polonius.--Very like a whale.
Having, however, no means whereby to decide this question, we must
content ourselves with broaching it, and leave the reader to form his
own conclusion. Yet we cannot refrain from expressing our opinion that
the story of the strange adventures of the prophet Jonah is "very like a
whale."
In another of Shakespeare's plays, namely "The Tempest," we find a
phrase which exactly applies to the romance of Jonah. When Trinculo
discovers Caliban lying on the ground, he proceeds to investigate the
monster. "What," quoth he, "have we here? a man or a fish? dead or
alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like
smell." Now that is a most admirable description of the Book of Jonah.
It has "a very ancient and fish-like smell." In fact, it is about the
fishiest of all the fishy stories ever told.
Sailors' "yarns" have become proverbial for their audacious and
delicious disregard of truth, and the Book of Jonah is "briny" from
beginning to end. It contains only forty-eight verses, but its brevity
is no defect. On the contrary, that is one of its greatest charms. The
mind takes in the whole story at once, and enjoys it undiluted; as
it were a goblet of the fine generous wine of romance. Varying the
expression, the Book of Jonah may be called the perfect cameo of Bible
fiction.
When the Book of Jonah was written no one precisely knows, nor is it
discoverable who wrote it. According to Matthew Arnold some unknown
man of genius gave to Christendom the fourth gospel, and with sublime
self-abnegation allowed his name to perish. A similar remark must be
made concerning the unknown author who gave to the world this racy story
of Jonah and the whale. We heartily wish his name had been preserved for
remembrance and praise.
Our marginal Bibles date the Book of Jonah b.c. cir. 862. Other
authorities give, the more recent date of b.c. 880 as that of the events
recorded in it. This chronology will suggest an important reflection
later on.
The wonderful story of Jonah and the whale begins in this wise:--"Now
the word of the Lord came unto Jonah, the son of Amittai, saying, Arise,
go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness
is come up before me."
Who Amittai was, and whether man or woman, is a problem still unsolved;
but it is reasonable to suppose the name was that of Jonah's father, as
the ancient Jews paid no superfluous attentions to women, and generally
traced descent from the paternal stem alone. Amittai belonged to a place
called Gathhepher, "the village of the Cow's tail," or, as otherwise
interpreted, "the Heifer's trough." Jonah's tomb is said to have been
long shown on a rocky hill near the town; but whether the old gentleman
was ever buried there no man can say. According to Mr. Bradlaugh, the
word Jonah means a dove, and is by some derived from an Arabic root,
signifying to be weak or gentle. Another interpretation, by Gesenius, is
a feeble, gentle bird. This refractory prophet was singularly ill-named.
If his cognomen was bestowed on him by his parents, they must have been
greatly deceived as to his character. The proverb says that it is a wise
son that knows his own father; and with the history of Jonah before us,
we may add that it is a wise father who rightly knows his own son.
The solicitude of "the Lord God of the Hebrews" for the welfare of the
Ninevites is to the sceptical mind an extraordinary phenomenon. It is
one of the very few cases in which he shows the slightest concern for
any other people than the Jews. His ordinary practice was to slaughter
them wholesale by pestilence or the sword; and it is therefore very
refreshing to meet with such an instance of his merciful care. For once
he remembers that the rest of Adam's posterity are his children, and
possess a claim on his attention.
Jonah, however, did not share this benign sentiment; and disrelishing
the missionary enterprise assigned him, he "rose up to flee unto
Tarshish from the presence of the Lord." Jehovah does not seem to have
been omnipresent then; that attribute attaches to him only since the
beginning of the Christian era, when he assumed universal sway. Long
before the time of Jonah, another man, the first ever born in this
world, namely Cain, also "went out from the presence of the Lord, and
dwelt in the land of Nod;" probably so called because the Lord was not
quite awake in that locality. No one knows were Nod was situated,
nor can the most learned archaeologists denote the actual position
of Tarshish. These two places would be well worth study. A careful
examination of them would to some extent reveal what went on in those
parts of the world to which God's presence did not extend; and we should
be able to compare their geological and other records with those of
the rest of the world. No doubt some striking differences would be
perceptible.
Jonah determined to voyage by the Joppa and Tarshish line. So he went to
the former port and embarked in one of the Company's ships, after paying
his fare like a man.
Having a perfectly untroubled conscience, and no apprehension of his
coming troubles, Jonah no doubt felt highly elated at having done
the Lord so neatly. Perhaps it was this elation of spirits which
safe-guarded him from sea-sickness. At any rate he went "down into the
sides of the ship," and there slept the sleep of the just. So profound
was his slumber, that it was "quite unbroken" by the horrible tempest
that ensued. The Lord had his eye on Jonah, for the prophet had not yet
reached the safe refuge of Tarshish; and he "sent out a great wind into
the sea, and there was a mighty tempest in the sea, so that the ship was
likely to be broken." The mariners "cast forth the wares that were in
the ship" to lighten her, and toiled hard to keep afloat; but their
efforts were apparently fruitless, and nothing lay before them but the
certain prospect of a watery grave. The reader will be able to imagine
the tumult of the scene; the dash of ravening waves, the fierce howling
of the wind, the creaking of masts and the straining of cordage, the
rolling and pitching of the good ship and the shifting of her cargo,
the captain's hoarse shouts of command and the sailors' loud replies,
alternated with frenzied appeals to their gods for help. Yet amidst all
the uproar Jonah still slept, as though the vessel were gaily skimming
the waters before a pleasant breeze.
Let us pause here to interpose a question. Did the "great wind sent
out into the sea" by the Lord confine its attentions to the immediate
vicinity of Jonah's ship, or did it cause a general tempest and perhaps
send some other vessels to Davy Jones's locker? As no restrictions are
mentioned, we presume that the tempest was general, and that the Lord's
wind, like the Lord's rain referred to by Jesus, fell alike upon the
just and the unjust. This circumstance very naturally heightens our
previous conception of his righteousness.