“Before making some general remarks on this whole subject of attempting to show the character of the Canticles by reference to the pantheistic poetry of the Mahometan Sufis, it may be well to mention that reference has been made even to the poets of Hindostan for the same purpose; especially to the Gitagovinda, the production of a celebrated Hindoo poet, named Jayadeva. This appears to be a mystical poem, designed to celebrate the loves of Crishna and Radha, or the reciprocal attraction between the divine goodness and the human soul. Now, whatever may be the resemblance between the Gitagovinda and Canticles in some of their imagery, there is this essential difference, that, in the former, Crishna was the chief incarnate god of the Hindoos,[152] and that there are references to other gods, and to various superstitions of the Hindoo mythology; whilst in the Canticles there is no reference to any but human characters. Besides, the author of the Gitagovinda clearly intimates its religious character in the conclusion of the poem.
“We have seen, then, that there are material differences between the Canticles and the religious love-songs to which [[118]]reference has been made. But supposing the resemblance to be much greater than it is, those mystical songs do not in any essential respect resemble the Canticles more than they do the odes of Anacreon, or some of the eclogues of Virgil, and the idyls of Theocritus. And it is not easy to see why the resemblance does not prove the religious character of the odes of Anacreon as much as that of the Canticles.
“But, after all, the great objection remains to any conclusion drawn from the pantheistic mystic poets, whether of Persia or India, whether Mahometans or Hindoos, namely, that their productions are founded on a religion and philosophy entirely different from the Jewish. The Canticles are productions of a different country, and separated from any of the songs of the Sufi poets by an interval of nearly two thousand years. The Jewish religion has nothing in common with the pantheistic mysticism on which those songs are founded. There is nothing in the Old Testament of a similar character. If any production similar to those mystical love-songs had existed in the religious literature of the Hebrews, undoubtedly we should have found some in the Book of Psalms, which comprises compositions from the age preceding that of David to a period long after the return of the Jews from the captivity at Babylon. But in the most fervent Psalms, the forty-second, for instance, nothing of the kind is found. Neither is anything similar to those mystic songs ascribed to the Jewish sect, as described by Josephus and Philo. Nothing of the kind is laid to the charge of the Essenes. It is needless to say, that nothing approaching to the like character is found in the New Testament. Nothing similar is discovered even in the allegorical paraphrase of the Targumist on the Canticles. All those religious love-songs are founded on the Sufi religion, or rather religious philosophy, which, whether it was borrowed from India, as Von Hammer supposes, or arose independently among the Mahometans, according to the opinion of Tholuck, has no connexion with, or resemblance to, the Jewish. It is as different [[119]]from the latter as darkness from light. The argument, therefore, which is drawn from the mystical songs of the Mahometan devotees for ascribing a mystical character to the Canticles, is without foundation.”[153]
REASONS AGAINST THE ALLEGORICAL INTERPRETATION.
1. In every allegory, or parable, employed in the Scripture, or in any good human composition, something is wrought into its texture to indicate most unmistakably its allegorical design; that, under the garb of an immediate representation, is conveyed one more remote. Thus, in the 80th Psalm, 9–17, where Israel is represented under the allegory of a vine which came out of Egypt, the design is distinctly wrought into the texture of the allegory. The expression, heathen (גוֹיִם), at the very beginning of the allegory, and especially the words, “the Son whom thou hast chosen for thyself,” (עַל בֵּן אִמַּצְתָּה לָךְ) in the second clause of verse 15, which, when compared with “the Son of man, whom thou hast chosen for thyself,” (עַל בֵּן אָדָם אִמַּצְתָ לָךְ) in verse 17, are evidently explanatory of the words, “and protect what thy right hand hath planted,” (וְכַנָּה אֲשֶׁר נָטְעָה יְמִינֶיךָ) in the first clause, clearly to show the more remote concealed under the immediate representation. Thus, also, in the allegory of the vineyard, and by the prophet Isaiah (chap. v.), we are distinctly told, in verse 7, that “the vineyard of Jehovah of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah are his pleasant plantation.” Compare also Judges ix. 7–20; 2 Kings xiv. 9, 10; Ezek. xvi., xxxvii. 1–14; the parables of our Saviour, Acts x. 10–17; Gal. iv. 22–31. Now, if the author of this poem had intended it to be understood allegorically, he would have given some indication to that effect; especially since the allegories occasionally used in some parts of this very book, chap. iv. 12, v. 1, vii. 7, 8, are rendered plain and obvious. As there is, however, not the slightest [[120]]intimation in the whole of this lengthy poem that it is designed to be allegorical, we are unwarranted to assume it. To take one portion of the Scriptures allegorically, without even an obscure hint of it in the writing itself, is to violate the established laws of language, and to expose all other portions of the sacred volume to a similar treatment. If one chooses to allegorize one part without any sanction, another may choose to allegorize another. But we have no right to depart from the literal and obvious meaning, without some authority for it from the inspired writer. This argument is applicable to every allegorical interpretation, whether historical or hieroglyphical, whether political or metaphysical.
2. The total silence of our Lord and his apostles respecting this book is against its allegorical interpretation. If this Song, according to the first and last allegorisers, “celebrates the glories of the Messiah, and all the mercies which through him flow to the people of God,” it is more spiritual and more evangelical than any other portion of the Old Testament; surpassing even the writings of Isaiah, who is called the fifth Evangelist, and is, in fact, what Origen called it, “The Holy of Holies.” Is it possible, then, that our Saviour, and his apostles, who, in their disputations with the Jews, so frequently quoted the prophecies of Isaiah and other passages of the Old Testament, far less evangelical and Messianic, would never have referred to this book? Is it possible that the apostle Paul, who so frequently describes the relation of Christ to the Church by the union subsisting between husband and wife (2 Cor. xi. 2, Rom. vii. 4, Eph. v. 23–32), would be silent about a book which, more than any other in the Old Testament, sets forth that union? The fact, therefore, that our Saviour and his apostles never once refer to this book is against the allegorical interpretation.
3. Is Solomon the man from whom a production of such preeminent spirituality and evangelical truth could have been reasonably expected? Is there anything in his private history, [[121]]his habits of thought, his moral inclinations, or in the general tone and tendency of his religious emotions, at any period of his life, as far as they can be gathered from his history and writings, that would lead us to anticipate such evangelical piety as this interpretation presupposes? The same agreement which exists between ordinary writers and their productions is perceptible in the inspired records. Inspiration, like Providence, selected the fittest instruments for its work. Thus, between the history of Moses and his writings, of David and his writings, of Paul and his writings, of John and his writings, a natural uniformity exists; and so of other sacred authors. Accordingly, we have not only to suppose Solomon to have been more spiritually-minded than any under the Jewish economy, but to have stood upon a level with the most enlightened and Christ-loving under the present dispensation, in order to write in such a strain. Where is any such qualification in Solomon, even remotely intimated in any part of Scripture? The wisdom which he asked, which he received, and for which he gained celebrity, was that displayed in his civil government, in social and moral teaching, of which the first-fruit was given in the decision upon the litigation of the two mothers. The poetry which he wrote, consisting of one thousand and five songs, upon natural history, not having been deemed worthy of a place in the sacred canon, shows that his muse did not indulge in a devotional strain. The Book of Ecclesiastes, which is attributed to him by tradition, is the experience of a thorough-going worldling and libertine, and a confession to men rather than God. The extensive harem which he had, displays his inordinate desire for revels and foreign women, which in old age inveigled him into the practice of idolatry. “His wives,” as the Scriptures teach us, “turned away his heart after other gods.” And the last we hear of him is, that “his heart was not perfect with the Lord his God, as was the heart of his father David.” Is this, then, the man whose love-song is to be regarded as pre-eminently [[122]]spiritual, and to be exalted as more evangelically rapturous than any other portion of Holy Writ? To what period of his life is this pre-eminent piety to be assigned? If to the latter, that is the period of his greatest degeneracy; if to the former, how are we to reconcile his apostasy with so high a degree of spirituality? It is difficult to conceive of such a mind as that of Solomon brought at any time into sympathy with the prevailing allegorical exposition of this Song. Who can conceive that he who caused an irreparable breach in his kingdom should represent himself as the Prince of Peace, or that he who was the embodiment of the carnal propensities should describe, under the figure of chaste love, the union of Christ and his Church? It is inconceivable. As David was not qualified to build the temple, because he had been a man of war, and had shed blood, so Solomon was not qualified to write in such a spiritual strain concerning Christ and his Church as the prevailing allegorical exposition of this Song, because he had been a man of lust, and had turned aside to idolatry.
4. For the same reason we cannot conceive that any other writer would represent the Messiah as symbolized by Solomon. Is it conceivable that he of whom the whole congregation of Israel complained to Rehoboam, “Thy father made our yoke grievous—now, therefore, make thou the grievous service of thy father, and his heavy yoke which he put upon us, light,” would be chosen to represent the Saviour of the world, “whose yoke is easy, and his burden light?” We can understand why the painter of the Judgment Scene, among the celebrated frescoes in the cloisters of the Campo Santo at Pisa, in Italy, in which the righteous and the wicked are gathered in their respective positions, placed Solomon midway between them, as an intimation of his inability to determine to which he belonged; but we cannot understand how an inspired writer could choose Solomon, whose lusts were displayed in the revels of an Eastern harem, and who was seduced to practise idolatry, to represent Him who was “holy, harmless, undefiled, and [[123]]separate from sinners,” together with the pure and holy union subsisting between him and the Church.
5. In the allegorical interpretation language is attributed to Christ inconsistent with his dignity and purity. It is almost blasphemous to suppose Christ thus to address his Church:—
“The circuits of thy thighs are like ornaments,