CHAPTER XII.

STRIFE.

Hebrew god of War--Samaël--The father's blessing and curse--Esau

--Edom--Jacob and the Phantom--The planet Mars--Tradesman and

Huntsman--'The Devil's Dream.'

Who is this that cometh from Edom,

In dyed garments from Bozrah?

This that is glorious in his apparel,

Travelling in the greatness of his strength?

I who promise deliverance, mighty to save.

Wherefore art thou red in thine apparel,

And thy garments like him that treadeth the wine-vat?

I have trodden the wine-press alone;

And of the peoples there was none with me:

And I will tread them in mine anger,

And trample them in my fury;

And their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments,

And I will stain all my raiment.

For the day of vengeance is in my heart,

And the year of mine avenged is come.

And I looked, and there was none to help;

And I wondered that there was none to uphold;

Therefore mine own arm gained me the victory,

And mine own fury, it upheld me.

And I will tread down the peoples in mine anger,

And make them drunk in my wrath,

And will bring down their strength to the earth. [63]

This is the picture of the god of War. Upon it the comment in Emek

Hammelech is: 'The colour of the godless Samaël and of all his princes

and lords has the aspect of red fire; and all their emanations are

red. Samaël is red, also his horse, his sword, his raiment, and the

ground beneath him, are red. In the future the Holy God shall wear

his raiment.' [64] Samaël is leader of the Opposition. He is the

Soul of the fiery planet Mars. He is the Creator and inspirer of

all Serpents. Azazel, demon of the Desert, is his First Lord. He was

the terrestrial Chief around whom the fallen angels gathered, and his

great power was acknowledged. All these characters the ancient Rabbins

found blended in his name. Simmé (dazzling), Sóme (blinding), Semól

(the left side), and Samhammaveth (deadly poison), were combined in

the terrible name of Samaël. He ruled over the sinister Left. When

Moses, in war with the Amalekites, raised his ten fingers, it was a

special invocation to the Ten Sephiroth, Divine Emanations, because

he knew the power which the Amalekites got from Samaël might turn his

own left hand against Israel. [65] The scapegoat was a sacrifice to

him through Azazel.

Samaël is the mythologic expression and embodiment of the history of

Esau, afterward Edom. Jacob and Esau represented the sheep and the

goat, divided in the past and to be sundered for ever. As Jacob by

covering his flesh with goat-skins obtained his father's blessing due

to Esau, the Israelites wandering through the wilderness (near Edom's

forbidden domain) seemed to have faith that the offering of a goat

would convince his Viceroy Azazel that they were orthodox Edomites. The

redness of Samaël begins with the red pottage from which Esau was

called Edom. The English version does not give the emphasis with which

Esau is said to have called for the pottage--"the red! the red!" The

characteristics ascribed to Esau in the legend are merely a saga built

on the local names with which he was associated. 'Edom' means red,

and 'Seir' means hairy. It probably meant the 'Shaggy Mountains.' [66]

It is interesting to observe the parting of the human and the

theological myths in this story. Jacob is the third person of a

patriarchal trinity,--Abraham the Heavenly Father, Isaac the Laugher

(the Sun), and Jacob the Impostor or Supplanter. As the moon supplants

the sun, takes hold of his heel, shines with his light, so does Jacob

supplant his elder brother; and all the deadliness ascribed to the

Moon, and other Third Persons of Trinities, was inherited by Jacob

until his name was changed by euphemism. As the impartial sun shines

for good and evil, the smile of Isaac, the Laugher, promised great

blessings to both of his sons. The human myth therefore represents

both of them gaining great power and wealth, and after a long feud

they are reconciled. This feature of the legend we shall consider

hereafter. Jehovah has another interest to be secured. He had

declared that one should serve the other; that they should be

cursed who cursed Jacob; and he said, 'Jacob have I loved, Esau

have I hated.' Jahvistic theology had here something more important

than two brothers to harmonise; namely a patriarch's blessing and

a god's curse. It was contrary to all orthodoxy that a man whom

Jehovah hated should possess the blessings of life; it was equally

unorthodox that a father's blessing should not carry with it every

advantage promised. It had to be recorded that Esau became powerful,

lived by his sword, and had great possessions.

It had also to be recorded that 'Edom revolted from under the hand of

Judah and made a king unto themselves,' and that such independence

continued 'unto this day' (2 Kings viii. 20, 22). There was thus no

room for the exhibition of Jacob's superiority,--that is of Israel's

priority over Edom,--in this world; nor yet any room to carry out

Isaac's curse on all who cursed Jacob, and the saying: 'Jacob have

I loved, Esau have I hated, and laid his mountains and his heritage

waste for the dragons of the wilderness' (Mal. i.).

Answers to such problems as these evolve themselves slowly

but inevitably. The agonised cry of the poor girl in Browning's

poem--'There may be heaven, there must be hell'--marks the direction in

which necessity led human speculation many ages before her. A future

had to be invented for the working out of the curse on Esau, who on

earth had to fulfil his father's blessing by enjoying power, wealth,

and independence of his brother. In that future his greatness while

living was repaid by his relegation to the desert and the rock with

the he-goat for his support. Esau was believed to have been changed

into a terrible hairy devil. [67] But still there followed him in his

phantasmal transformation a ghostly environment of his former power

and greatness; the boldest and holiest could not afford to despise

or set aside that 'share' which had been allotted him in the legend,

and could not be wholly set aside in the invisible world.

Jacob's share began with a shrewd bargain with his imprudent

brother. Jacob by his cunning in the breeding of the streaked animals

(Gen. xxx.), by which he outwitted Laban, and other manoeuvres, was

really the cause of bringing on the race called after him that repute

for extortion, affixed to them in such figures as Shylock, which they

have found it so hard to live down. In becoming the great barterers

of the East, their obstacle was the plunderer sallying forth from

the mountain fastnesses or careering over the desert. These were the

traditional descendants of Esau, who gradually included the Ishmaelites

as well as the Edomites, afterwards merged in the Idumeans. But as

the tribal distinctions became lost, the ancient hostility survived

in the abstract form of this satan of Strife--Samaël. He came to

mean the spirit that stirs up antagonism between those who should be

brethren. He finally became, and among the more superstitious Jews

still is, instigator of the cruel persecutions which have so long

pursued their race, and the prejudices against them which survive

even in countries to whose wealth, learning, and arts they have

largely contributed. In Jewish countries Edom has long been a name

for the power of Rome and Romanism, somewhat in the same way as the

same are called 'Babylon' by some christians. Jacob, when passing

into the wilderness of Edom, wrestled with the invisible power of

Esau, or Samaël, and had not been able to prevail except with a lame

thigh,--a part which, in every animal, Israel thereafter held sacred

to the Opposing Power and abstained from eating. A rabbinical legend

represents Jacob as having been bitten by a serpent while he was

lingering about the boundary of Edom, and before his gift of goats

and other cattle had been offered to his brother. The fiery serpents

which afflicted Israel were universally attributed to Samaël, and

the raising of the Brazen Serpent for the homage of the people was an

instance of the uniform deference to Esau's power in his own domain

which was long inculcated.

As I write, fiery Mars, near enough for the astronomer to detect

its moons, is a wondrous phenomenon in the sky. Beneath it fearful

famine is desolating three vast countries, war is raging between

two powerful nations, and civil strife is smiting another ere it has

fairly recovered from the wounds of a foreign struggle. The dismal

conditions seem to have so little root in political necessity that

one might almost be pardoned even now for dreaming that some subtle

influence has come among men from the red planet that has approached

the earth. How easy then must it have been in a similar conjunction of

earthly and celestial phenomena to have imagined Samaël, the planetary

Spectre, to be at work with his fatal fires! Whatever may have been

the occasion, the red light of Mars at an early period fixed upon that

planet the odium of all the burning, blighting, desert-producing powers

of which it was thought necessary to relieve the adorable Sun. It

was believed that all 'born under' that planet were quarrelsome. And

it was part of the popular Jewish belief in the ultimate triumph of

good over evil that under Mars the Messias was to be born.

We may regard Esau-Samaël then as the Devil of Strife. His traditional

son Cain was like himself a 'murderer from the beginning;' [68] but in

that early period the conflict was between the nomad and the huntsman

on one side, on the other the agriculturist and the cattle-breeder,

who was never regarded as a noble figure among the Semitic tribes. In

the course of time some Semitic tribes became agriculturists, and among

them, in defiance of his archæological character, Samaël was saddled

with the evils that beset them. As an ox he brought rinderpest. But

his visible appearance was still more generally that of the raven,

the wild ass, the hog which brought scurvy; while in shape of a dog

he was so generally believed to bring deadly disease, that it would

seem as if 'hydrophobia' was specially attributed to him.

In process of time benignant Peace dwelt more and more with the

agriculturists, but still among the Israelites the tradesman was

the 'coming man,' and to him peace was essential. The huntsman, of

the Esau clan, figures in many legends, of which the following is

translated from the Arabic by Lane:--There was a huntsman who from a

mountain cave brought some honey in his water-skin, which he offered

to an oilman; when the oilman opened the skin a drop of honey fell

which a bird ate; the oilman's cat sprang on the bird and killed it;

the huntsman's hound killed the cat; the oilman killed the dog; the

huntsman killed the oilman; and as the two men belonged to different

villages, their inhabitants rose against each other in battle,

'and there died of them a great multitude, the number of whom none

knoweth but God, whose name be exalted!' [69]

Esau's character as a wild huntsman is referred to in another

chapter. It is as the genius of strife and nomadic war that he more

directly stands in contrast with his 'supplanter.'

From the wild elemental demons of storm and tempest of the most

primitive age to this Devil of Strife, the human mind has associated

evil with unrest. 'The wicked are like the troubled sea when it cannot

rest.' Such is the burthen of the Japanese Oni throned in the heart

of the hurricane, of the wild huntsman issuing forth at the first

note of war, of Edom hating the victories of peace, living by the

sword. The prophecy that the Prince of Peace should be born under

the planet Mars is a strange and mystical suggestion. In a powerful

poem by Thomas Aird, 'The Devil's Dream,' the last fearful doom of

Satan's vision is imprisonment beneath a lake for ever still,--the

Spirit of Unrest condemned for ever to the realm of absolute stillness!

There all is solemn idleness: no music here, no jars,

Where Silence guards the coast, e'er thrill her everlasting bars.

No sun here shines on wanton isles; but o'er the burning sheet

A rim of restless halo shakes, which marks the internal heat;

As, in the days of beauteous earth, we see with dazzled sight

The red and setting sun o'erflow with rings of welling light.

Oh! here in dread abeyance lurks of uncreated things

The last Lake of God's Wrath, where He His first great Enemy brings.

Deep in the bosom of the gulf the Fiend was made to stay,

Till, as it seemed, ten thousand years had o'er him rolled away;

In dreams he had extended life to bear the fiery space;

But all was passive, dull, and stern within his dwelling-place.

Oh! for a blast of tenfold ire to rouse the giant surge,

Him from that flat fixed lethargy impetuously to urge!

Let him but rise, but ride upon the tempest-crested wave

Of fire enridged tumultuously, each angry thing he'd brave!

The strokes of Wrath, thick let them fall! a speed so glorious dread

Would bear him through, the clinging pains would strip from off

his head.

The vision of this Last Stern Lake, oh! how it plagued his soul,

Type of that dull eternity that on him soon must roll,

When plans and issues all must cease that earlier care beguiled,

And never era more shall stand a landmark on the wild:

Nor failure nor success is there, nor busy hope nor fame,

But passive fixed endurance, all eternal and the same.

Demonology and Devil-lore · 第 12 / 30 章