II. This then is the grandest of the elements in the Book of Job which helped to prepare the noblest minds among the Jews for the reception of primitive Christianity—viz. the idea of a righteous man suffering simply because (as was said of One parallel in many respects to Job) ‘it pleased Jehovah (for a wise purpose) to bruise him.’ The second element is the idea of a supra-mundane justice, which will one day manifest itself in favour of the righteous sufferer, not only in this world (xvi. 18, 19, xix. 25, xlii.), so that all men may recognise their innocence, but also beyond the grave, the sufferers themselves being in some undefined manner brought back to life in the conscious enjoyment of God’s favour (xiv. 13-15, xix. 26, 27?) There may be only suggestions of these ideas, but suggestions were enough when interpreted by sympathetic readers. Let me add that by ‘sympathetic,’ I mean in sympathy with the conception of God formed by the author of Job. Nothing is more out of sympathy with this conception than the saying of the Jewish scholar, S. D. Luzzatto, ‘The God of Job is not the God of Israel, the Gracious One; He is the Almighty and the Righteous, but not the Kind and Faithful One.’ No; the God of Job would be less than infinitely righteous if He were not also kind (comp. Ps. lxii. 12). And of this enlarged conception of God, faith in the continuance of the human spirit is a consequence. Justice to those with whom God is in covenant requires that He should not after a few years hurl them back into non-existence (comp. Job x. 8-13). But I can only skirt the fringe of the great religious problems opened by this wonderful book.
In conclusion, and in the spirit of my motto, let me invite the reader’s attention (even if he be no theologian) to the spectacle of a powerful mind dashing itself against perennial problems too mighty for it to solve. The author of our poem missed the only adequate and possible solution, and hence he has been erroneously regarded by several moderns as the representative of a mental attitude akin to their own. Heine, for instance, can term this book ‘the Song of Songs of scepticism.’ No doubt those who are at sea on religious matters can find sayings in Job which may seem as if spoken by themselves; but in truth these only enhance the significance of the counteracting elements in the poem. It is the logical incompleteness of Job which at once exposes the book to misjudgment, and gives it an eternal fascination. As Quinet has said, ‘Ce qui fait la grandeur de ce livre, c’est qu’en dépassant la mesure de l’Ancien Testament il appelle, il provoque nécessairement des cieux nouveaux.... Le christianisme vit au fond de ce blasphème.’ We need a second part of Job, or at least a third speech of Jehovah, which could however only be given by some Hebrew poet who had drunk at the fountains of the Fourth Gospel. Failing these, the reader must supply what is necessary for himself,—a better compensation to Job for his agony than the Epilogue provides, and a more touching and not less divine theophany (comp. Job ix. 32, 33). This Christianity will enable him to do. Intellectually, the problem of Job’s life may remain, but to the Christian heart the cloud is luminous.
The Infinite remains unknown,
Too vast for man to understand:
In Him, the ‘Woman’s Seed,’ alone
We trace God’s footprint in the sand.[[125]]
CHAPTER XV.
THE BOOK OF JOB FROM A GENERAL AND WESTERN POINT OF VIEW.
The Book of Job is even less translatable than the Psalter. And why? Because there is more nature in it. ‘He would be a poet,’ says Thoreau, ‘who could impress the winds and streams into his service to speak for him.’ They do speak for the poet of Job; the ‘still sad music of humanity’ is continually relieved by snatches from the grand symphonies of external nature. And hence the words of Job are ‘so true and natural that they would appear to expand like the buds at the approach of spring.’ It is only a feeble light which the Authorised Version sheds upon this poem; and even the best prose translation must for several reasons be inadequate. Perhaps, though English has no longer its early strength, a true poet might yet achieve some worthy result. Rarely has the attempt been made. George Sandys was said by Richard Baxter to have ‘restored Job to his original glory,’ but he lived before the great era of Semitic studies. The poetical translator of Job must not disdain to consult critical interpreters, and yet by his own unassisted skill could he bring this Eastern masterpiece home to the Western reader? I doubt it. Even more than most imaginative poems the Book of Job needs the help of the painter. It is not surprising therefore that a scholar of Giotto should have detected the pictorial beauties of the story of Job. Though only two of the six Job-frescoes remain entire, the Campo Santo of Pisa will be impoverished when time and the sea-air effect the destruction of these. I know not whether any modern painter besides William Blake has illustrated Job. He, a ‘seer’ born out of due time, understood this wonderful book as no modern before him had done. The student will get more help of a certain kind from the illustrations thus reproduced in the second volume of Gilchrist’s Life of William Blake, compared with the sympathetic descriptions by Blake’s biographer (vol. i. pp. 330-333), than from any of the commentaries old or new.
In every respect the poem of Job stands in a class by itself. More than any other book in the Hebrew canon it needs bringing near to the modern reader, untrained as he is in Oriental and especially in Semitic modes of thought and imagination. Such a reader’s first question will probably relate to the poetic form of the book. Is it, for instance, a drama? Theodore of Mopsuestia (died 428) answered in the affirmative, though he was censured for this by the Council of Constantinople. The author of Job, he says, wronged the grand and illustrious story by imitating the manner of the pagan tragedians. ‘Inde et illas plasmationes fecit, in quibus certamen ad Deum fecit diabolus, et voces sicut voluit circumposuit, alias quidem justo, alias vero amicis.’[[126]]
Bishop Lowth devotes two lectures of his Sacred Poetry to the same question. He replies in the negative, after comparing Job with the two Œdipi of Sophocles (dramas with kindred subjects), on the ground that action is of the essence of a drama and the Book of Job contains not even the simplest action. Afterwards indeed he admits that Job has at least one point in common with a regular drama, viz. the vivid presentation of several distinct characters in a tragic situation. The view that it is an epic, held in recent times by Dr. Mason Good and M. Godet, found favour with one no less than John Milton, who speaks, as he who knows, of ‘that epic form, whereof the two poems of Homer and those other two of Virgil and Tasso are a diffuse, and the Book of Job a brief model.’[[127]] Something is to be said for this opinion if Paradise Regained be a true epic. Dialogue with the addition of a certain amount of narrative is, roughly speaking, the literary form of the Book of Job as well as of the unequally great English poem, and Coleridge is probably right in representing Milton as indebted to the former for his plan. It is however open to us to doubt not only whether Paradise Regained is a true epic poem, but whether any section of the Book of Job except the Prologue partakes of the nature of an epic. The Prologue certainly does; it is more than a mere introduction to the subsequent speeches; it is an independent poetical narrative,[[128]] if not a narrative poem; nor is there wanting a strong infusion of that supernatural element which tradition regards as essential to the epic. True, it is a torso, but this does not interfere with its genuinely poetic character: it is, as Milton says, a ‘brief model’ or miniature of an epic poem. The Colloquies on the other hand are as undoubtedly a germinal character-drama, as the Song of Songs is a germinal stage-drama. The work belongs to the same class as Goethe’s Iphigenie and Tasso; only there is much more passion in it than in these great but distinctively modern poems. Some one has said that ‘there is no action and reaction between the speakers’ [in the Colloquies]. This is an over-statement. Not only is each speaker consistent with his type of character, but the passionate excitement of Job, and his able though fragmentary confutation of his opponents, do produce an effect upon the latter, do force them to take up a new position, though not indeed to recall their original thesis.[[129]]