as it stands, as well as the literal meaning of the words as generally
understood, there can be no doubt that we must believe that beasts are
not possessed of immortal life. If, however, we are to take the literal
sense of the Bible, and no other, we are equally forced to believe that
man has no life after death. The book of Psalms is full of examples.
Let us take a few from the many that might be given: “In death there
is no remembrance of thee: in the grave, who shall give thee thanks?”
“The dead praise not the Lord, neither any that go down into silence.”
“His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day
his thoughts perish.” Taken solely in their literal sense, there can
be no doubt of their meaning. Nothing more gloomy, dreary or more
despondent can be found in the entire range of heathen literature than
these passages, and others that might be quoted from the inspired
Psalmist, in the contemplation of death. In the very book from which
the single passage was taken, which is claimed to deny immortality to
the lower animals, there are five times as many passages that proclaim
the same sad end to the life of man. We are distinctly and definitely
told therein that those who have died have no remembrance of God,
and cannot praise Him. Death has been spoken of as the “land of
forgetfulness”--the place of darkness, where all man’s thoughts perish.
Certainly no more than this can be said of the “beasts that perish.”
Other holy writers make similar affirmations. Speaking of mankind in
general, who “dwell in houses of clay,” Job says: “They are destroyed
from morning to evening; _they perish forever_, without any regarding
it.” Again he says, and the passage is more definite than the
preceding: “As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that
goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.” And still again: “Man
dieth, and wasteth away: yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is
he? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth
up: so man lieth down, and riseth not.” Chapters III and X tell of the
piteous lamentations of Job over his life, wherein he complains that he
ever was born, that existence was ever given to him, that he was ever
taken from a state of absolute nonentity, and that even death itself
can bring no relief to his miseries except extinction.
Turning to Ecclesiastes, in which book occurs the solitary passage
which is held to disprove a future existence to the lower animals,
there are passages which are even more emphatic as to the immortality
of man. Read what is declared: “I said in my heart concerning the
estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they
might see that they themselves are beasts. For that which befalleth the
sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them. As the
one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath, so that
a man has no preëminence over a beast: for all is vanity. All go unto
one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.” Further it
is said: “For the living know that they shall die, but the dead know
not anything, neither have they any more a reward, for the memory of
them is forgotten.” “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy
might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in
the grave whither thou goest.” Literally interpreted, no one can doubt
the import of these words from Ecclesiastes, for they definitely state
that, as regards a future life, there is no distinction between man and
beast, and that when they die they all go to the same place. It is also
distinctly stated that after death man can do no work, know nothing,
nor receive any reward. Were we to deduce our ideas of the condition
of man after death from the irrepressibly sad and gloomy passages from
Job and Ecclesiastes, most deplorable and hopeless would be the very
thought of dissolution. But we do not accept them in this light. They
are written symbolically, and there underlies them a spiritual sense.
It is not, however, the latter sense that concerns us at present, but
the literal meaning of the translation, and, according to that literal
meaning, if we take two texts to prove that beasts have no future life,
we are compelled by no less than fourteen passages to believe that man,
in common with beasts, has no better prospect. We have no right to say
which passages are to be taken literally, and which parabolically,
but must apply the same test to all alike, and treat all in a similar
manner.
All classical readers are familiar with that wonderful eleventh book of
Homer’s Odyssey, called the Necyomanteia, or Invocation of the Dead, in
which Ulysses is depicted as descending into the regions of departed
spirits for the purpose of invoking them and obtaining advice as to his
future adventures. Dreary, and horrible indeed, are the revelations
which the whole of the strange history makes of the condition of the
future life. All is wild and dark, and hunger, thirst and discontent
prevail. Nothing is heard of elysian fields, where piety, wisdom and
virtue abound. Gloom, misery and vain regrets for earth pervade the
entire episode. When is considered this heathen poet’s ideas concerning
the future state of man, it is no wonder that sensual pleasures should
be held as the principal object of his life when he is to look forward
to such a future, a future from which neither wisdom, nor virtue,
nor piety could save him, and where there is nothing but an eternity
of gloom, remorse and hopeless despondency. Sad as this picture is,
yet it is far brighter than that of the Psalmist, the Preacher, or
Job. Those who have passed into the world of spirits still retain
their individuality after death, being distinguished in the spirit as
they had been in the flesh. Memory survives the body’s death. Naught
of their earthly career is forgotten. They still have an interest
in their friends that remain in the body whom they love, and over
whose well-being they unceasingly watch. No such consolation, as has
been described, exists in the future state of man if the passages of
Scripture that have been quoted are taken in a literal sense. Man, in
that event, passes at death into a place of darkness, forgetfulness and
silence, where there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom,
and where even his very thoughts perish. No other interpretation, if
taken literally, can be put upon them, for the statements are too
explicit to be explained away or softened.
In the outward sense of their writings the Psalmist, Job and the
Preacher are on an equality with Horace in their absolute unbelief in
a future existence, and in a consequent desire to snatch what fleeting
pleasures they can from earth before the inexorable law of fate
consigns them to dark oblivion. Startling as it may seem to compare the
teachings of a Greek idolater and of a Latin Epicurean heathen with
those of sacred writers, yet it is still more startling to show that
the teachings of the Epicurean sensualist are not a whit wiser than
those of the Scriptural writer, while those of the Greek poet are very
much better. Such, however, is the fact, and, if we are to be bound by
the literal interpretation of the Scriptures, there is no possibility
of denying it without doing violence to reason and common-sense.
We are now brought face to face with the point previously mentioned.
Does the authorized version give a full and correct interpretation of
the original? It is claimed that it does not. The word “perish,” it is
said, does not occur at all in the Hebrew text, nor is even the idea
expressed. No such translation as “beasts that perish,” which appears
twice in our version, is justified by the Hebrew, the words of the
original implying “dumb beasts.” The idea of perishing, in the sense
of annihilation, does not seem to be implied. Let us take the Jewish
Bible, which is acknowledged to be the best and closest translation
in the English language, and examine it. Both in verses 12 and 20 of
Psalm XLIX, where the passage occurs, the rendering reads: “Man _that
is_ in honor, and understandeth _this_ not, is like the beasts _that
are_ irrational.” As an alternative reading for “irrational,” the word
“dumb” is given in a footnote. A somewhat similar reading is found in
the Septuagint, which, according to Brunton, runs as follows: “Man that
is in honor understands not; he is compared to the senseless cattle,
and is like them.” In Wycliffe’s Bible, which is a translation from
the Vulgate, the passage is rendered: “A man whanne he was in honour
understood not; he is comparisoned to unwise beestis, and is maad lijk
to tho.” The “Douay” Bible, made by the English Roman Catholic College
of Douay, and which is the version accepted by that branch of the
Church in England, renders the passage: “Man, when he was in honor,
did not understand; he hath been compared to senseless beasts and made
like to them.” Numerous other translations might be adduced, and it is
safe to say that scarcely any of them imply the idea of perishing in
the sense of being reduced to nothing. Even supposing that the word
“perish” is translated correctly, it does not therefore follow that
annihilation is meant. Take the tenth verse of the same Psalm in our
authorized version: “For he seeth that wise men die, and likewise the
fool and the brutish person perish, and leave their wealth to others.”
Surely no sensible, intelligent person would construe this passage
into a declaration that the wise and fool and brutish had no existence
after the death of the body.
That the last verse of the Psalm is a summary of the whole poem,
seems not improbable. A vivid picture of the true object of man’s
life in this world is drawn by the Psalmist, and also of his tendency
to lose sight thereof. In it he sets forth the shortness of human
existence, and shows that neither riches, station in life, nor fame,
which appertain to the mere earthly career of man, can endure after
his death. He, therefore, reasonably concludes that men who fix
their hearts upon these earthly vanities ignore the honor of their
manhood, and degrade themselves to the plane of the dumb beasts, whose
operations are, as far as we know, restricted to this present world.
From what has been adduced it will at once be evident that the idea
that beasts are said by the Psalmist to have no future life may be
dismissed from our minds, and that the passage may be rejected as
totally irrelevant to the subject. This is of the greatest importance,
as the passage in question is the only one which even appears to make
any definite statement as to the condition of the lower animals after
death. Every reasonable person will now see how essential it is that
the true meaning of the Hebrew text should be known, and that the
Psalmist should not be charged with the introduction of a doctrine to
which, whether true or false, he makes not the slightest reference.
Having settled beyond the possibility of refutation the true meaning
implied by the “beasts that perish,” we will now turn to the passage in
Ecclesiastes, which, as has been seen, is the only one which contains
any direct reference to the future of the lower orders of animal
existence: “Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the
spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?”--exclaimeth the
Preacher. Here we have an admission that, whether the spirit ascend or
descend, both man and beasts do have spirits, and these are undoubtedly
the same in essence, for the Hebrew word is identical is both cases.
In the Jewish Bible the rendering is _verbatim_ the same as that of
our authorized version. Read, instead of an isolated verse, the entire
passage:--
“I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the sons of men, that
God might manifest them, and that they might see that they themselves
are beasts.
“For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even the
one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea,
they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preëminence above a
beast: for all is vanity.
“All go to one place; all are of the same dust, and all turn to dust
again.
“Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the
beast that goeth downward to the earth?
“Wherefore I perceive that _there_ is nothing better than that a man
should rejoice in his own works; for that _is_ his portion; for who
shall bring him to see what shall be after him?”
Every page of Ecclesiastes breathes of the self-reproach of the
Preacher for a wasted life. Speaking from his own sad, bitter
experience, he shows that riches, glory, pleasure and even wisdom are
nothing but utter emptiness. The same theme pervades the forty-ninth
Psalm, but the Psalmist treats it with grave solemnity, admonishing
his hearers of the shortness of human life, and showing that if a
man forgets the glory of his manhood, made in the image of God, he
puts himself on the level of the dumb brutes. Though reaching the
same conclusion, yet the Preacher views the subject from a different
standpoint. Employing biting sarcasm rather than solemn warning, he
exposes the vanity of all worldly and selfish pleasures, and the
miserable fate that awaits the voluptuary, and then ironically advises
his readers to place in such their entire happiness.
So palpable is the bitter irony of the author throughout the book,
and even in the twenty-first verse of the third chapter, yet by no
manner of interpretation can this specialized text be made to mean that
beasts are annihilated after death, while men rise again and soar above
earthly things to honor and glory. Ironically the writer assumes in
it that his readers do not know the difference between the spirit of
man and that of beast, and, reasoning from that position, advises them
that “_there is_ nothing better for a man _than that_ he should eat and
drink, and that he should make his soul enjoy good in his labor.”
From what has been shown, it is evident that the passage from Psalms
does not even contain the idea of annihilation as regards beasts, and
that the one from Ecclesiastes is entirely misapprehended. That they
have no bearing upon the subject must now be manifest. We cannot,
therefore, resist the conclusion that the Scriptures do not deny future
life to the inferior animals.
This admission gives courage for a step still further forward. Man’s
latest achievement is to conceive that all existence is a unit. One
spirit pervades the whole natural world, an emanation from the Spirit
of Him who sitteth enthroned in the Eternal Heavens, and who not only
is, as Moses declares, “God of the spirits of all flesh,” but God of
the spirits of all animate nature. We cannot divorce the two great
kingdoms of nature. If there is a futurity of existence for man, whom
we are told was “made a little lower than the angels,” but who in
these latter days seems to have deteriorated, and who in thousands
of instances displays a character far less noble and honorable than
that of the dog which he kennels and feeds, then there must be for
the so-called brute, the companion of his joys and his sorrows. If
for beast, bird, reptile, fish and insect, and none can be so foolish
in the face of the most indubitable evidence to deny it, then there
must be for tree, shrub and flower, for God, who is infinite in love,
mercy and charity, would not be God if solely concerned with the future
of the smallest fractional part of His children. Man is psychically
related to all life. There is soul, in some sort of development, in
everything; and certainly God meant in His grand scheme of redemption
to lift the world, not a portion of it, but the entire world, out of
its lower ideas into its higher beauties and realities.
FUTURE LIFE.
That the Scriptures, contrary to popular tradition, do not deny a
future life to the lower animals has already been conclusively shown.
But do they declare anything in favor of another world for beast as
well as for man? This is a question which we shall now endeavor to
answer. As to man’s immortality, the Old Testament Scriptures teach the
doctrine by inference rather than by direct assertion, for the reason,
as has been presumed, that the writers of the several books, which were
selected at a comparatively late period from among many others and
formed into the volume popularly designated the Bible, assumed as a
matter of course that man was immortal, and therefore did not concern
themselves about a matter which they supposed everybody knew. But as
far as the Old Testament goes, inference tells more strongly in favor
of the beast’s immortality than that of man. Although in either case
there does not appear to be any definite assertion of a futurity of
existence, yet there is no such denial of the immortality of the beast
as has already been shown in the case of the man.
Beasts, as readers of the Old Testament only too well know, were
included in the merciful provision of the Sabbath, which, in its
essence, was a spiritual and not simply a physical ordinance. And,
again, we find many provisions in the ancient Scriptures against
maltreating the lower animals, or giving them unnecessary pain, and
these provisions stand side by side in the Divine Law with those which
apply to man. All are familiar with the prohibition of “seething a kid
in its mother’s milk,” and the non-muzzling of the ox in treading out
the corn lest he should suffer the pangs of hunger in the presence of
the food which he may not eat. Even bird’s nesting was regulated by
Divine Law. “If a bird’s nest chance to be before thee in the way in
any tree, or on the ground, _whether they_ be young ones, or eggs,
and the dam sitting upon the young, or upon the eggs, thou shalt not
take the dam with the young: _But_ thou shalt in any wise let the dam
go, and take the young to thee; that it may be well with thee, and
_that_ thou mayest prolong _thy_ days.” Moreover, as many animals must
be killed daily, some for sacrifice and others solely for food, the
strictest regulations were enjoined that their death should be sharp
and quick, and that the whole of their blood should be poured out upon
the ground lest they suffer lingering pain.
In keeping with the same consideration felt by Deity towards the kid
and ox and bird, as expressed in the Law, we would refer to the few
concluding sentences of the Book of Jonah:--
“Thou hast had pity on the gourd, for the which thou hast not labored,
neither madest it grow; which came up in a night, and perished in a
night.
“And should I not spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than
six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand
and their left hand; _and also much cattle_?”
“Every beast of the forest is mine,” saith the Lord, “and the
cattle upon a thousand hills.” And again, “I know all the fowls of
the mountains: and the wild beasts of the field are mine.” Similar
passages, in which God announces himself as the protector of the beast
as well as of man, could be given, for the Scriptures are full of them.
Who does not recall the well-known saying of our Lord respecting the
lives of the sparrows: “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and
one of them shall not fall on the ground without the notice of your
Father.”
Cowper in his “Task,” makes allusion to this branch of our subject in
the following lines:--
“Man may dismiss compassion from his heart,
But God will never. When He charged the Jew
To assist his foe’s down-fallen beast to rise;
And when the bush-exploring boy, that seized
The young, to let the parent-bird go free;
Proved He not plainly that His meaner works,
Are yet His care, and have an interest all--
All in the universal Father’s love?”
One passage there is which certainly does point to a future for the
beast as well as for man, and which places them both on the very same
plane. It is found in Genesis, ninth chapter and fifth verse, and
constitutes a part of the law which was delivered to Noah, and which
was subsequently incorporated in the fuller law given through Moses.
“And surely your blood of your lives will I require,” said God to Noah
and his sons, “at the hand of every beast will I require it, and at the
hand of every man; at the hand of every man’s brother will I require
the life of man.” In Exodus, chapter twenty-one and twenty-eighth
verse, we read, “If an ox gore a man or a woman, that they die: then
the ox shall be surely stoned, and his flesh shall not be eaten; but
the owner of the ox _shall be_ quit.”
While there are no passages of Scripture, as has been seen, which deny
immortality of life to the lower animals, yet there are certainly some
which tend to show it by inference. But the Scriptures were written for
human beings, and not for the lower animals, and therefore it could
hardly be expected that any information could be gained therefrom on
the subject. As we find so few direct references to the future state
of man, it is not at all to be expected that we should receive direct
instruction upon the after-life of the beast.
But just as man has had within himself for untold ages an intuitive
witness to his own immortality, yet there are those, lovers and
friends of the so-called brute, who have an instinctive sense that
animals, some of whom surpass in love, unselfishness, generosity,
conscience and self-sacrifice many of their human brethren, must share
with him in addition to these virtues an immortal spirit in which they
take their rise. No more eminent personage than Bishop Butler was a
believer in this idea. Substantially he asserts that the Scriptures
give no reasons why the lower animals should not possess immortal
souls. Similar sentiments have been voiced by equally distinguished
writers.
Southey, writing of the death of a favorite spaniel that had been the
companion of his boyhood, says:--
“Ah, poor companion! when thou followedst last
Thy master’s parting footsteps to the gate
Which closed forever on him, thou didst lose
Thy best friend, and none was left to plead
For the old age of brute fidelity.
But fare thee well. Mine is no narrowed creed;
And He who gave thee being did not frame
The mystery of Life to be the sport
Of merciless man. There is another world
For all that live and move--a better one!
Where the proud bipeds, who would fain confine
Infinite Goodness to the little bounds
Of their own charity, may envy thee.”
Thus does Lamartine, in “Jocelyn’s Episode,” beautifully express
himself in addressing a faithful and affectionate canine by the name of
Fido:--
“I cannot, will not, deem thee a deceiving,
Illusive mockery of human feeling,
A body organized, by fond caress
Warmed into seeming tenderness;
A mere automaton, on which our love
Plays, as on puppets, when their wires we move.
No! when that feeling quits thy glazing eye,
’Twill live in some blest world beyond the sky.”
Not by man alone have these higher qualities been accorded to the
brute. Women have praised the good within the lower animals, and been
quite as willing to share with them the benefits of an immortal life.
Eugenie de Guérin, a woman distinguished for her devotional piety,
and an author of no mean repute, was, like the most of her sex, quite
passionately fond of pets. Hers was a turtle-dove. Its voice was
the first to greet her in the morning. There was a pleasure in its
soft, gentle cooings, as they fell upon her ear, that sent a sweet
consolation to her busy, thinking soul. But the time came at last when
she must part with her treasure. The morn dawned bright, an August
morning, and the bird was well and happy, but, with the falling of the
shadows at even-tide, its little life went out. A bitter trial it was
for the mistress, who loved with a perfect love her feathered friend.
While wrestling with her intense sorrow, and after she had sincerely
placed its mortal remains in a dainty cavity beneath the roses, it
was that she wrote: “I have a tolerably strong belief in the souls of
animals, and I should even like there to be a little paradise for the
good and gentle, like turtle-doves, dogs and lambs. But what to do with
wolves and other wicked animals? To damn them?--that embarrasses me.”
Less devotional, perhaps, and looking rather to logic than to
intuition, was the mind of Mrs. Somerville. With such a difference
in constitution between the two women, we would naturally look for
the greatest divergence of opinion upon a matter of this kind, but,
astonishing to relate, there is noticeable a marked unanimity. Speaking
of death, and the accompanying change of environing objects, this
gifted writer, in her eighty-ninth year, says in her “Memoirs”:--