LECTURE III
In the first and second lectures we have dwelt upon the external features of the two codes of law to be compared, and pointed out some things remarkably similar. We have now to consider the various theories which have been propounded to account for them. The progress of the discussion has shown that the higher critics are as eager as the orthodox Jewish or Christian writers to repel the oft-repeated assertions of dependence.
There are obviously many ways of treating the resemblances and accounting for the differences, and some of them may, and probably will, long be held which do not attempt to take account of more than a selection of the facts. That theory will surely be finally accepted which takes account of all the facts. Hasty dogmatism only succeeds in imposing on the credulous public and provokes the resentment of those whose judgement is alone worth considering. I should esteem it then a real misfortune if anything I might say should lead any one to form a conclusion based solely on what he considers to be my opinion. Therefore I expressly warn you that I have not given you my opinion, nor do I intend to do so. I desire solely to make you aware of the facts, and invite you to form your own opinion.
Now the first thing to deal with is the general similarity of the Code to the Book of the Covenant, considered as our best witness to the primitive Hebrew law. It has been calculated that out of forty-five, or possibly fifty-five judgements preserved in this old Hebrew law, thirty-five have points of contact with the Hammurabi Code, and quite half are parallel. Of course, there are also marked differences to be accounted for. The Hebrew law appears to have legislated for a small people, among whom human life was precious and property scanty. The Babylonian law protects property with far severer penalty, and makes little account of a criminal’s life. This is appropriate to a nation of commercial instincts and a wealthy populous state. It recognizes grades of wealth and position. The theft of an ox is punished by a five-fold restoration in the Hebrew law, in the Babylonian by thirty times its value, or in the plebeian’s case by a ten-fold penalty. We may estimate the difference by saying that in the desert five oxen was about all a man had, and his family would probably have to help him to pay, and so the penalty was an effective restraint; while in Babylonia, thirty oxen were to many men not more costly, and even the commoner was twice as wealthy as an Israelite. It is, however, more likely that the penalties were not calculated at all upon an estimate of what they meant to the criminal, but on an artificial system of the value of numbers. For example, in Israel, five may have been ideally complete. Professor D. H. Müller has most ingeniously worked out the possible significance of the numbers.
It is not particularly profitable to insist upon the superior humanity of either code. Impartial judges, acquainted with ancient codes, will perceive that the balance between the rights of the individual and those of the State is always very difficult to hold level. Severe penalties may be due to the determination to suppress crime at any cost. The desire to save the criminal from the results of his crime is not to be expected of any early legislator. Only when his life was worth more to the State than the loss he was likely to cause could the criminal hope for pardon. As Hammurabi put it, the king might wish to save his servant’s life.
Points of close agreement are numerous. The treatment of sorcery, the law of deposit, the punishment of kidnapping, injury to a pregnant woman, regulations as to shepherds, and a score more may be noted as very similar. These are given in many books, very conveniently in Professor S. R. Driver’s Genesis in the Cambridge Bible for Schools.
Now on such a view of the general similarities many have expressed the opinion that the Hebrew laws are a more or less revised adaptation of the Babylonian law, perhaps as locally already modified in Canaan to suit the prejudices of the invaders while they were changing their habits of life and became a settled people. But this view is not vivid enough for others. There is a certain delight which some feel in propounding views calculated to shock some one. The cruder view that the Hebrew lawgiver, call him Moses or some higher critical periphrasis for the same thing, sat down with a cuneiform copy of the Code before him and copied out the Babylonian laws with some adaptations, may have been enunciated with some such amiable wish, but was too crude to disturb any one. It is barely worth record. The differences between the Codes are too important for us to adopt it. If he made a copy it was a very bad copy. Some allowance for the difference in age must also be made. Such a length of time as five hundred to a thousand years must have been marked by great changes in Babylonia or in Canaan. The advent of the Israelites must have introduced new forces into the life of Palestine. Here we have to weigh carefully our evidence, which points on the whole to the Israelite contribution being more primitive in type, and in some degree a return to early conditions which held before the time of Hammurabi in Babylonia. Dear as these changes were to the later Jewish mind, they were not what we should call improvements.
But when merely considering such general resemblances, along with such marked differences, we can readily see that a theory of common origin will suffice to account for the likenesses; while many subordinate theories can be put forward to account for the differences. Between the theories of these differences it must be impossible to decide until we know more accurately the exact circumstances of the Israelites at, or soon after, their conquest of Canaan. We may, for example, have to regard the conquest as extending over a long period and admitting of many gradations of supremacy in different parts. It is not likely that a clean sweep was made of the old inhabitants and their customs at any one epoch or place. We may have to extend this period of conquest down to the end of the time of the Judges. Parallels are not wanting in the history of Babylonia. The so-called Amorites had been some centuries in the land before Hammurabi’s supremacy, even before they appear as founding a dynasty.
A favourite theory of the resemblances is that they are due to a common Semitic origin. Let us examine that theory more closely. In support of it we have to show that the common features are of a Semitic type. This is more difficult than is generally supposed. When practically the only pastoral nomads whose customs were at all well known to theologians were the Arabs and, as usually assumed, the Israelites, many features were put down as Semitic which are now recognized as rather due to the exigencies of the nomadic life. The recognition of the Babylonians as a type of settled Semites led by slow gradations to the admission of other features as also Semitic, while some things hitherto only known among Semites have been recognized as the common possession of many unrelated folk. Gradually, and probably unconsciously, ‘common Semitic origin’ has become a mere euphemism for ‘Babylonian’. For to what part of the Semitic world can we look for so advanced a civilization as to be common both to the Babylonian and Israelite law? It must be at least as advanced as the things common to those laws and yet not presuppose a state of society which could not be true of a Semitic people. It would be interesting if we can find anywhere a clear sketch of what conceivable state of society the common Semitic origin really implies. It might then be argued that no such society ever existed. At present all we can say is that we do not know where to find it. It is really only a convenient term, like evolution, to conceal our ignorance of history.
If it could be shown that just those features which are common to the Hammurabi Code and the Israelite, and therefore presumably existed in the common Semitic origin, are unlike anything in the Sumerian or pre-Semitic laws of Babylonia, then the fact of a common Semitic origin might have to be admitted without our being able to fix upon a locality for it. In Babylonia a predominance of Semites, at least in the north, may be dated, perhaps a thousand years before Hammurabi, under Sargon of Akkad. But while we know of Sumerian Family Laws and have references to legal reforms under the Sumerian Kings of Babylonia even in pre-Sargonic times, we have not yet sufficient material from those early days to know exactly how far Hammurabi’s Code was really an advance upon older Sumerian law. Slowly but surely we are learning that precisely the same legal forms were in use, long before Hammurabi, among the Sumerians of the south. The legal documents of Hammurabi’s age are full of the old Sumerian words and phrases, used just as dog-Latin or Norman-French was in our deeds of early English times. We could not claim a common use of Teutonic translations of Roman law terms in England and Germany, if such existed, as proof of a common Teutonic origin for the laws. But the Hammurabi Code is full of Semitic translations of Sumerian terms. This would be quite fatal to the theory of common Semitic origin but for the fact that the Sumerians had been conquered so long before by Sargon, and we cannot yet clearly sift out what may have been due to his Semitic followers from what may have been imposed on them by the subject Sumerians. The conquest of Babylonia by Elam may have affected its laws more than we think. The barbarous Elamite punishments survived in Babylonia, in Mesopotamia, even in Israel, two thousand years or more. But one can hardly argue much from that. The early history of Babylonian law is still very obscure, and we can only state probabilities of more or less cogency.
The Semitic origin seems afflicted by lack of cogency. One must respect it for the attachment which certain estimable divines show to it. One rather wonders whether Noah was a Semite as well as his eldest son, and whether these laws really go back as early as Shem. Elam had claims to be a Semite, and an early Semitic kingdom in Elam seems to have been long predominant there. Was Elam the real common Semitic home both of Amorites and Israelites? There was a district not far from the border of Elam over which Kudur-Mabuk, the father of Rîm-Sin, once ruled, and which was known as the land of the Amorites. Thence the First Dynasty of Babylon may have come. Whether the ancestors of Abraham in Ur of the Chaldees were once Amorites or earlier Elamites we cannot yet decide. But with all these speculations scientific folk show small patience: for they have another way of solving the problem.
It is most probable that some of the features which Hammurabi’s Code has in common with the early Hebrew legislation are only slightly modified from the still earlier codes which date from the time of earlier Sumerian supremacy in Babylonia. Hence we should remember that a common Semitic origin may really be only a step towards a reference of both to an early Babylonian origin. At present we are not likely to find evidences of early Semitic custom anywhere so early by some thousand years as in Babylonia; and though we are quite justified in supposing that Arab customs may be older still, as they certainly are more primitive, we can never date them with certainty except when we can show them to arise purely and simply out of local circumstances. Then we may perhaps affirm that they must always have been the custom in Arabia and treat them as a witness to early Semitic law. On this side of the question Mr. S. A. Cook’s work is invaluable.
But the evolutionist or scientific man has a much easier solution. He has made a comparison of laws among such foreign folk as are wholly unconnected with Semites or Sumerians. It is found that all men everywhere do hit upon much the same solution of the same social problem. We may say that the likenesses we perceive between the Code of Hammurabi and the Hebrew laws are due to the natural dictates of human experience. If we take up the laws, one by one, which are common to the two systems, we can account for almost all the likenesses in this way. Some very remarkable similarities have been shown by Professor D. H. Müller to exist between the Code of Hammurabi and the Twelve Tables of the Roman Law. Professor Cohn, of Zürich, has pointed out strong likenesses to the laws of the West Goths. On the other hand, Dr. H. Grimme has pointed out some very close agreements between the Mosaic Laws and an ancient Semitic Law of Bogos, which goes back before the coming of the Amhara into Abyssinia. There are some likenesses even with the old Indian laws of Manu, and even the laws of the Aztecs have been compared. We could not expect much assent if we argued for a common parentage of these widely scattered laws and their descent from the Code of Hammurabi.
The scientific view is that the common laws are due to common human experience, which is much the same everywhere. It is closely allied with the doctrine of evolution as applied to human institutions. If we could only assume that the nations developed each separately and independently, without mutual intercourse, it might suffice. But for ages before the institutions we are considering, both Babylonia and Palestine had been the meeting-place of many peoples. We cannot tell by any a priori method which race introduced which custom. All we know is that an improvement is often readily adopted by people from those with whom they come in contact, even when not forced upon them by conquest. But we also know that even superior usefulness or comfort is not always sufficient to keep a custom alive. We now know that without much apparent reason even an essential craft may die out. In fact, this common humanity origin of common customs is very useful, like the theory of evolution, to account for observed results when we have no knowledge of what preceded them and can only guess at the previous history. One can then, without fear of contradiction, assert what we consider most likely to have led up to them as their antecedents. But these easy explanations do not absolve us from careful research where history can be produced to work upon. The evolution of human institutions, if such be a legitimate expression to use, has many a set-back or reaction, and we may very well at any time be comparing progress in one history with reaction in another.
But while the evolutionary theory of human institutions may be appealed to for satisfying our curiosity when no possible answer can be given by history, there are things often to be observed which it does not well account for, and then recourse to it is the reverse of scientific. An illustration taken from the arts may help to clear our minds on this point. It may be assumed that all men everywhere may be expected to hit upon the device of burning clay vessels until they obtain some rude form of pottery and then develop the potter’s art to some extent. We may call this evolution. Not only can the making of pots and pans be adduced from all parts of the globe, but truly astonishing resemblances can be discovered between pottery from districts so remote that we cannot believe there can ever have been communication between them. Here an independent evolution has produced the same results in unconnected areas. If that were all, the modern science of pottery evidence would be impossible. We cannot afford time or space even to sketch here the chief results of the intensive comparative study of pottery, which has become so powerful a weapon in the hands of the modern archaeologist. Not only the age of the stratum on which it was found, but even the nationality of the maker, can frequently be asserted beyond reasonable question. Every one must be familiar with such statements as that Mycenaean pottery has been found on some site or other recently examined in Greece, Asia Minor, or Palestine. We are led to suppose that there is something distinctive about it which fixes its origin and age quite unmistakably. Now this is not its special fitness for meeting a want which could be met no other way, so that every people everywhere must have produced Mycenaean pottery once they reached the compelling stage of civilization which demanded it. It is some non-essential feature which marks its distinction from all other than deliberate imitations of it. It must be something that appeals to a taste which could only arise after the thing itself had arisen. The admiration felt for Mycenaean pottery would lead to a demand for it, and that might lead to imitation of it, but no conceivable set of circumstances could have led men to achieve it independently. If this could be conceded, the whole science built on modern study of pottery comes to an end. The presence of such pottery in Palestine does not indeed prove that any Mycenaean potter ever visited the country, but that his wares were brought there, were valued and in request. Further, the pottery came within fairly definite limits of time.
Now it is this sort of non-essential, for the most part useless but approved, characteristic which shows conscious imitation, adoption, or adaptation, that proves influence, indebtedness, or copying. In this case instanced, in the absence of all documentary evidence, by its frequency of occurrence, by its adaptation to local circumstance or other local appropriateness, we also fix the locality of its origin. Conclusions of this kind are accepted as legitimate in most modern researches into prehistoric times.
So if we could fasten upon just such a point in the Code of Hammurabi which appears so artificial or arbitrary, so purely local in its character that we cannot imagine it to have independently arisen elsewhere, we could use it as a test case to decide whether the great amount of common matter found in that Code and also the Laws of Moses may be set down as due to common Semitic origin, or to common human genius faced by similar needs. There is no question as to the relative age of the codes to be compared; we know definitely which is older and more original.
Let us then consider a case which, like the need for pottery, might arise anywhere when men had reached the same stage of civilization. A man has lent money to another, or its equivalent in goods. The debtor, as is commonly the case among men, finds himself unable to repay the loan, for he has consumed the goods and been unable to acquire what will replace them. His labour is probably of some value; it should be worth more than his keep; the surplus value, if he can find employment and wages, should in time enable him to repay the debt. Now in his area employment may be scarce, wages low; but at any rate he may offer to work for his creditor. The custom of making such an offer, which differs little from taking service for wages, except that the wage has already been prepaid, may arise almost anywhere. It is probably universal amongst civilized peoples. The creditor soon can count on it as his right to demand his debtor’s labour to repay the loan. He probably calculates upon it as his security when he lends, and, if prudent, lends no more than he can reasonably expect to be repaid in this fashion.
Thus far common human experience and its dictates. As a responsible man and the head of his family, the debtor, at least among the Semites, had power over the labour of the other members of his family. There may be peoples where this power does not exist, if so, the power may be called a Semitic trait. But in both the Code of Hammurabi and the Book of the Covenant we have some reason to suppose the debtor would have power to offer not only his own labour but that of his wife, often the better worker of the two, or that of a son or daughter, or of a slave, as well as or instead of his own. Exactly how far his power over the members of his own household extended may be set down, if we chose, as depending upon Semitic custom, if we can show that this extent of power is common to all Semites, at any rate in early times, and is not shared with non-Semitic folk. The parallels in Roman law do show that it did not remain exclusively Semitic, unless it be held that the Twelve Tables were so influenced by Eastern civilization as to have derived this feature ultimately from a Semitic source. It was probably Sumerian also, but there we may perhaps derive it from an early Semitic source. At any rate we do find it common to both Babylonia and Israel, whether they derived it from a common source or obtained it independently.
Now how long shall the debtor or his hostage serve the creditor to pay off the debt? The creditor might well say in the case of a slave, who in practice was often taken as an antichretic pledge for a loan, his labour being supposed to pay the interest on the loan without affecting the capital, that he had a right to keep him always. Theoretically this was true if the loan was about the value of the slave. It would practically be accepting the slave as a payment of the loan. The value of a slave was often very little in excess of the cost of keeping him, feeding, clothing, and housing him. Indeed, he was even an anxiety after he became adult. The owner usually did wisely in providing him with a slave-girl for wife and so breeding a family of slaves, who after they had been kept to adult age might be sold profitably. But even this was a speculation, and at the best not a very profitable business. The creditor who accepted the debtors slave as a hostage for debt usually took the opportunity of a sale to pass him on. A slave-girl had other uses than her work and was usually more saleable. Hence she was more likely to be accepted and offered as a hostage.
The Code of Hammurabi here steps in with a remarkable set of restrictions upon the freedom of action of the debtor and creditor. The debtor cannot complain if the creditor sells the slave given him as hostage. But if it is a slave-girl who has borne children to the debtor, she cannot be sold. She may be pledged or given to work off a debt, but not alienated by the creditor (§ 118).
If the debtor has handed over wife, son, or daughter as hostage, they have to be treated as freemen still. They are not to forfeit freedom for ever. The Code orders their release at the end of three years’ service. It is a noteworthy interference with the above power of a man over his family (§ 116), Semitic or not. In such cases as these there is no account whatever taken of the amount of debt. It is an arbitrary interference on the part of a lawgiver with commercial principles, or selfish instinct, in favour of the weak against the strong. It seems clearly to be an innovation, for though earlier kings had declared amnesty from debt on special occasions, that was a more primitive measure of pity and a generous use of other men’s money peculiarly unfair to the soft-hearted lender. This was a bold, calculated move in the direction of humane regulation. It had its risks of abuse, and if Hammurabi had stopped there, he might have done more harm than good. For he would have left it open to the hard-hearted creditor to try and exact more work, the utmost farthing in fact, out of his temporary slave. Accordingly he declared that if the hostage for debt died of blows or want in the creditor’s house, the creditor should suffer the same family bereavement as he had brought on the debtor by his cruelty, a regulation which might lead the creditor’s family to moderate his exactions, or forfeit the average price of the slave he killed by ill use, and, what the creditor would feel most keenly of all, lose all further claim on the debtor.
Now by such regulations Hammurabi set a very effective limit on two markedly Oriental vices. Men love to gamble by borrowing for present enjoyment on security of some contingent future wealth. They pledge crops, land, houses, family with gleeful irresponsibility. But others are avaricious and only too willing to lend on decent security or even most speculative future profit. Hammurabi’s Amorites and Babylonians were by no means above these abuses. He forbade speculation in crops, &c., and by his regulations on these points put a very stringent restraint on debt. The debtor’s powers of borrowing were greatly narrowed. A prudent lender found himself checked by the consideration that if the debtor did not pay he would never be able to reclaim more than three years’ average work out of the debtor, his wife, son, or daughter. He would have a shrewd guess at what these assets were worth. So the lawgiver cut at the root of much of the misery which his predecessors tried to redress by their slap-dash amnesty.
We do well to remember that a respectable, pious, poor man in Babylonia could usually borrow from his local temple without interest, and that by the Code agricultural loans could not be pressed if the crop failed. Hence we see that most of the debts which Hammurabi made so difficult must have been due to improvidence, laziness, or a weak use of the facility to borrow offered by wealthy, lazy, and avaricious money-lenders.
The Hebrew legislation on the subject is precisely similar save that the term is six years. Whether three or six, the term is so absolutely arbitrary that no possible explanation can be given to account for it. It equally ignores the amount of debt, the value of the debtor’s work, and the sacredness of contract. Had both legislations hit upon a three years’ term, we might have racked our brains to find a reason why in the world three years should have commended itself to both lawgivers. We should have been tempted to think that these Semites had some sanctity about the term which made it appropriate to select. At any rate we should have wondered what a money-lender in Israel had done to deserve to get twice as much work for his money as the Babylonian. Some might even have been tempted to see early evidence of Jewish aptitude for business. Others would doubtless begin to play with the importance of the value seven to the Jewish mind. Then one would begin to see the influence of P. as in the first chapter of Genesis. Unfortunately the Babylonians of the Hammurabi period had about as much reverence for seven as for three, and perhaps as much for both as the Israelite in the Book of the Covenant.
But it is a poor compliment to a lawgiver of any age to suppose that sacred numbers influenced the nature of his laws. Doubtless the Jubilee release was economically an advance on sporadic amnesty, but to make a debtor’s lot twice as hard and a money-lender’s security double, especially as there is no reason to suppose that in Israel the temple was the poor man’s bank, all for sake of seven is not a fair charge against Moses or any lawgiver unless it is absolutely certain. The change from three to six is not easy to account for on scientific sociological grounds.
But one of the Hebrew Scriptures does attempt to account for the change, and evidently regards it as a change to be accounted for. The Deuteronomic writer argues that the creditor ought not to deem it hard that he should release his debtor at the end of six years because he had so served a double term. We may note that as it now stands the text says ‘double the hire of a hireling’. That is purely irrelevant. A slave’s value was surely less to the holder, not more than that of a hireling, for his keep had to be subtracted, and his work was hardly likely to be so valuable as that of a freeman. The profit of a hireling is the excess of the value of his work above what is paid for it. The hire of a hireling was surely not just half the value of his own work or of a slave’s work. Indeed, it is not easy to see what the double of a hireling’s hire has to do with the question. The writer was right in saying the term of six years was double something, and there can be no question that it was double three years, and therefore double the term fixed by Hammurabi five hundred or more years before. The creditor seems to have resented letting the debtor go at all, at any rate till he had worked off all his debt. The writer clearly knew that the creditor had already obtained twice what he had to expect under other circumstances, and believed he would admit the fact. It was double the Babylonian allowance.
Can this undesigned coincidence be accidental? Is either Semitic custom or human experience competent to explain the significance of the doubleness being pointed out in this way?
If Canaanite custom before the Exodus had a term of three years’ service in such cases, the same as the Hammurabi Code, surely that was due to Babylonian law, unless, as some would maintain, the Amorite dynasty to which Hammurabi belonged really came from Canaan, in which case Hammurabi imposed Canaanite law on Babylonia. It was a non-essential, anyway; it could nowhere have been the outcome of special circumstances likely to occur again. It was not a creditor’s law, for he obviously wanted liberty to keep the debtor’s hostage till he had satisfied his own desires; it was not a debtor’s law, for he would have surely preferred the three years’ limit. It was a concession to the creditor to meet that hard-hearted person’s wishes.
It is not the large stock of common matter in the two legislations about a hostage for debt but the disguised yet undeniable adaptation which seems so significant.
Let us now consider another somewhat different case. Death by burning is a horrible punishment, and was so recognized by the later Jewish lawyers, who contrived a legal fiction to do away with its literal infliction even on the scandalous criminals for whom it was intended. Hammurabi orders it twice. It would be very difficult to account by common Semitic custom or evolutionary methods for its being inflicted, if at all, only twice. Yet the laws of Moses inflict it twice also. If these arose independently, what is there from any intelligible point of view to demand its infliction at all—but, if at all, why twice and only twice? And that too in laws so similar?
Well now, in both laws the incest of mother and son is one case. The heinousness of that crime may suffice to justify the hideous penalty. Hammurabi (§§ 157-8) clearly distinguishes incest with a man’s own mother and with a step-mother. Leviticus (xx. 14; xxi. 9) makes a curious specification of the case; whether to include other cases or not is not very clear. But evidently this great crime met the same unique punishment.
Hammurabi’s second case is that of a votary, or vestal virgin, who left her cloister to open a wine shop or frequent it for strong drink. At first sight we might regard this as a protest against a vestal’s intemperance solely. But women did keep wine shops, and their conduct of them is regulated by the Code. We may recall the case of Rahab in Joshua ii. 1. The second case in Hebrew law is Lev. xxi. 9: the priest’s daughter who is unchaste is to be burned with fire. Now why are other women of the priest’s family not included? Is priest’s daughter to be taken, like the mârat amêlim in the Code, to mean a woman of the priestly family? Or is it simply a priestess? Surely it is just a periphrasis, perhaps once a gloss on a word become obsolete, for a vowed woman like Jephthah’s daughter. There is at first sight not much likeness between the two second cases. But this one evidently puzzled the Jewish commentators, who probably had a traditional knowledge of the real meaning. First Josephus explains the crime not as mere unchastity but as ‘opening a tavern’. Was he thinking of Rahab the tavern-keeper who was also a harlot? Or had he an inkling that the crime was the same as Hammurabi had in view? The association of the tavern with immorality was close in Old Testament ideas. Perhaps Hammurabi also had it in mind, for unchastity would be specially revolting in a vestal virgin. Surely the priest’s daughter also was a votary. The Rabbis of the Talmud evidently suspected something disguised in the text, for they make a comment upon it which is truly surprising if the text be taken literally. They ask, Shall not a priestess or priest’s daughter be treated better than a tavern-keeper? They too knew that in some cases a tavern-keeper had to be burned. We ask, Why and where, if she were not also a vowed woman and in the Hammurabi Code? We need not assume that either Josephus or they had read or heard of Hammurabi’s Code, or would have regarded it with anything but detestation if they had. All the more suggestive is it that these learned men should regard the verse as meaning just what that Code did mean.
These points are like the meaningless but obviously Egyptian symbols, often used for decorative purposes on seals, found in Syrian or Hittite seals, which show the influence of the Nile and are never disputed as due to copying, though no longer understood and used for decorative purposes solely.
Some scholars are inclined to attach even more importance to the singular likenesses in literary form, and above all to the disposition of both the Code and the Book of the Covenant in groups of five or ten.
It may be remembered in this connexion that according to the author of the Acts of the Apostles Moses was traditionally learned in all the learning of the Egyptians. Taking that statement as literally true, we now know from the Tell-el-Amarna tablets that that learning included the knowledge of cuneiform at least on the part of some Egyptian scribes before the Exodus. Philo tells us that Moses was also learned in the learning of the Assyrians who were correspondents of Egypt in the same period, of the Babylonians who wrote to the same kings at the same time, and the Chaldeans, who were then known as an independent kingdom in the Southern Sea lands of Babylonia. These and similar traditions are usually dismissed by critics as mere senseless attempts to enhance the reputation of Moses for wisdom and knowledge, which included that of the wisest nations of antiquity. But in view of what we have seen already may there not have been a different reason for these claims? Did not these learned men, who themselves knew much of that knowledge, recognize in the Books of Moses many startling parallels to the wisdom of Babylonia? Was it not the only acceptable way to account for such parallels to assert boldly that Moses did know these things, but in such a way that, guided by God, he used them so far as they were in accordance with Divine revelation; independently indeed as exercising his own discretion in selecting from them, but dependently in so far as they had found out already by man’s wisdom or the light of nature that which was good and of good report?