The Early History of the Hebrews
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.
THE EGYPT OF THE HEBREWS AND HERODOTOS
Contents.—The Patriarchal Age—The Age of Moses—The Exodus—-The Hebrew Settlement in Canaan—The Age of the Israelitish Monarchies—The Age of the Ptolemies—Herodotos in Egypt—In the Steps of Herodotos—Memphis and the Fayyûm—Appendices—Index.
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LONDON: RIVINGTONS
THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE HEBREWS
BY
The Rev. A. H. SAYCE
PROFESSOR OF ASSYRIOLOGY AT OXFORD
AUTHOR OF ‘EGYPT OF THE HEBREWS AND HERODOTOS’
RIVINGTONS
KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN
LONDON
1897
All rights reserved
PREFACE
There are many histories of Israel, but this is the first attempt to write one from a purely archæological point of view. During the last few years discovery after discovery has come crowding upon us from the ancient East, revolutionising all our past conceptions of early Oriental history, and opening out a new and unexpected world of culture and civilisation. For the Oriental archæologist Hebrew history has ceased to stand alone; it has taken its place in that great stream of human life and action which the excavator and decipherer are revealing to us, and it can at last be studied like the history of Greece or Rome. The age of the Patriarchs is being brought close to us; our museums are filled with written documents which are centuries older than Abraham; and we are beginning to understand the politics which underlie the story of the Pentateuch and the causes of the events which are narrated in it.
Over against the facts of archæology stand the subjective assumptions of a certain school, which, now that they have ceased to be predominant in the higher latitudes of scholarship, are finding their way into the popular literature of the country. Between the results of Oriental archæology and those which are the logical end of the so-called ‘higher criticism’ no reconciliation is possible, and the latter must therefore be cleared out of the way before the archæologist can begin his work. Hence some of the pages that follow are necessarily controversial, and it has been needful to show why the linguistic method of the ‘literary analysis’ is essentially unscientific and fallacious when applied to history, and must be replaced by the method of historical comparison.
Even while my book has been passing through the press, a new fact has come to light which supplements and enforces the conclusion I have drawn in the second chapter from a comparison of the account of the Deluge in the book of Genesis with that which has been recovered from the cuneiform inscriptions. At the recent meeting of the Oriental Congress in Paris, Dr. Scheil stated that among the tablets lately brought from Sippara to the museum at Constantinople is one which contains the same text of the story of the Flood as that which was discovered by George Smith. But whereas the text found by George Smith was written for the library of Nineveh in the seventh century B.C., the newly-discovered text was inscribed in the reign of Ammi-zadok, the fourth successor of Khammurabi or Amraphel, in the Abrahamic age. And even then the text was already old. Here and there the word khibi, ‘lacuna,’ was inserted, indicating that the original from which it had been copied was already illegible in places. Since this text agrees, not with the ‘Elohist’ or the ‘Yahvist’ separately, but with the supposed combination of the two documents in the book of Genesis, it is difficult to see, as the discoverer remarked, how the ‘literary analysis’ of the Pentateuch can be any longer maintained. At all events, the discovery shows the minute care and accuracy with which the literature of the past was copied and handed down. Edition after edition had been published of the story of the Deluge, and yet the text of the Abrahamic age and that of the seventh century B.C. agree even to the spelling of words.
It is the ‘higher critics’ themselves, and not the ancient writers whom they criticise, that are careless or contemptuous in their use of evidence. In the preface to my Higher Criticism and the Verdict of the Monuments I have referred to a flagrant example of their attempt to explain away unwelcome testimony. Here it was the inscription on an early Israelitish weight, which was first pronounced to be a forgery, then to have been misread, and finally to have been engraved by different persons at different times! The weight is now in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, to which it was presented by Dr. Chaplin, and the critics have conveniently forgotten the dogmatic assertions that were made about it. They have, in fact, been busy elsewhere. Cuneiform tablets have been found relating to Chedorlaomer and the other kings of the East mentioned in the fourteenth chapter of Genesis, while in the Tel el-Amarna correspondence the King of Jerusalem declares that he had been raised to the throne by the ‘arm’ of his god, and was therefore, like Melchizedek, a priest-king. But Chedorlaomer and Melchizedek had long ago been banished to mythland, and criticism could not admit that archæological discovery had restored them to actual history. Writers, accordingly, in complacent ignorance of the cuneiform texts, told the Assyriologists that their translations and interpretations were alike erroneous, that they had misread the names of Chedorlaomer and his allies, and that the ‘arm of the Mighty King,’ in the letters of Ebed-Tob, meant the Pharaoh of Egypt. Unfortunately, the infallibility of the ‘critical’ consciousness can be better tested in the case of Assyriology than in that of the old Hebrew records, and the Assyriologist may therefore be pardoned if he finds in such displays of ignorance merely a proof of the worthlessness of the ‘critical’ method. A method which leads its advocates to deny the facts stated by experts when these run counter to their own prepossessions cannot be of much value. At all events, it is a method with which the archæologist and the historian can have nothing to do.
This, indeed, is tacitly admitted in a modern German work on Hebrew history, which is more than once referred to in the following pages. Dr. Kittel’s History of the Hebrews is partly filled with an imposing ‘analysis’ of the documents which constitute the historical books of the Old Testament, and we might therefore expect that the history to which it forms an introduction would be influenced throughout by the results of the literary disintegration. But nothing of the sort is the case. So far as Dr. Kittel’s treatment of the history is concerned, the ‘analysis’ might never have been made; all that it does is to prove his acquaintance with modern ‘critical’ literature. The history is judged on its own merits without any reference to the age or character of the ‘sources’ upon which it is supposed to rest. The instinct of the historian has been too strong for the author to resist, and the results of the linguistic analysis have accordingly been quietly set aside.
But history also has its canons of evidence, and criticism, in the true sense of the word, is not confined to the philologists. There is no infallible history any more than there is infallible philology; and if we are to understand the history of the Hebrews aright, we must deal with it as we should with the history of any other ancient people. The Old Testament writers were human; and in so far as they were historians, their conceptions and manner of writing history were the same as those of their Oriental contemporaries. They were not European historians of the nineteenth century, and to treat them as such would be not only to pursue a radically false method, but to falsify the history they have recorded. No human history is, or can be, inerrant, and to claim inerrancy for the history of Israel is to introduce into Christianity the Hindu doctrine of the inerrancy of the Veda. For the historian, at any rate, the questions involved in a theological treatment of the Old Testament do not exist.
The present writer, accordingly, must be understood to speak throughout simply as an archæologist and historian. Theologically he accepts unreservedly whatever doctrine has been laid down by the Church as an article of the faith. But among these doctrines he fails to find any which forbids a free and impartial handling of Old Testament history.
Perhaps it is necessary to apologise for the multitude of unfamiliar proper names which make the first chapter of this book somewhat difficult reading. But they represent the archæological discoveries of the last few years in their bearing upon the history of the Patriarchs, and an attempt has been made to lighten the burden of remembering them by repeating the newly-discovered facts, at all events in outline, wherever it has been needful to allude to them. Those, however, who find the burden too heavy and wearisome may pass on to the second chapter.
A. H. SAYCE,
23 Chepstow Villas, W.
September 25, 1897.
CONTENTS
THE HEBREW PATRIARCHS
Who were the Hebrews?—Origin of the Name—Ur and its Kings—Amraphel or Khammu-rabi—Canaanites in Babylonia—Harran—The Amorites—Abram in Canaan and Egypt—The Campaign of Chedorlaomer—Melchizedek—Sodom and Gomorrha—Circumcision—Name of Abraham—Hebrew and Aramaic—Moab and Ammon—Amorite Kingdoms—Dedan—Sacrifice of the Firstborn—Mount Moriah—Purchase of the Field of Machpelah—The Hittites—Babylonian Law—Isaac as a Bedâwi Shêkh—Esau and the Edomites—Jacob—Settles at Shechem—His Sons—The Israelitish Tribes—Joseph—The Hyksos in Egypt—Egyptian Character of Joseph’s History—Goshen—Deaths of Jacob and Joseph ... Pp. [1]-99
THE COMPOSITION OF THE PENTATEUCH
The Literary Analysis and its Conclusions—Based on a Theory and an Assumption—Weakness of the Philological Evidence—Disregard of the Scientific Method of Comparison—Imperfection of our Knowledge of Hebrew—Archæeology unfavourable to the Higher Criticism—Analysis of Historical Sources—Tel el-Amarna Tablets—Antiquity of Writing in the East—The Mosaic Age highly Literary—Scribes mentioned in the Song of Deborah—The Story of the Deluge brought from Babylonia to Canaan before the time of Moses—The Narratives of the Pentateuch confirmed by Archæeology—Compiled from early Written Documents—Revised and re-edited from time to time—Three Strata of Legislation—Accuracy in the Text—Tendencies—Chronology ... Pp. [100]-151
THE EXODUS OUT OF EGYPT
Goshen—The Pharaohs of the Oppression and Exodus—The Heretic King at Tel el-Amarna—Causes of the Exodus—The Stela of Meneptah—Moses—Flight to Midian—The Ten Plagues—The Exodus—Egyptian Version of it—Origin of the Passover—Geography of the Exodus—Position of Sinai—Promulgation of the Law—Babylonian Analogies—The Tabernacle—The Levitical Law—The Feasts—Number of the Israelites—Kadesh-barnea—Failure to conquer Canaan—The High-priest and the Levites—Edom—Conquests on the East of the Jordan—Balaam—Destruction of the Midianites—Cities of Refuge and of the Levites—The Deuteronomic Law—Death of Moses ... Pp. [152]-245
THE CONQUEST OF CANAAN
Joshua not the Conqueror of Canaan—The Conquest gradual—The Passage of the Jordan—Jericho, Ai, and the Gibeonites—Battle of Makkedah—Lachish and Hazor—The Kenizzites at Hebron and Kirjath-Sepher—Shechem—Death of Joshua ... Pp. [246]-271
THE AGE OF THE JUDGES
The Condition of Israel—The Destruction of the Benjamites—Story of Micah and the Conquest of Dan—Chushan-rishathaim and Ramses III.—Office of Judge—Eglon of Moab—The Philistines—Deborah and Barak—Sisera and the Hittites—The Song of Deborah—Gideon—Kingdom of Abimelech—Jephthah—Sacrifice of his Daughter—Defeat and Slaughter of the Ephraimites—Samson—Historical Character of the Book of Judges ... Pp. [272]-331
THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THE MONARCHY
Influence of Shiloh—Samuel and the Philistines—Duplicate Narratives in the Books of Samuel—Prophet and Seer—Dervish Monasteries—Capture of the Ark and Destruction of Shiloh—Saul made King—Quarrels with Samuel—Delivers Israel from the Philistines—Attacks the Amalekites—David—Two Accounts of his Rise to Power—Jealousy of Saul—David’s Flight—Massacre of the Priests at Nob—Wanderings of David—He sells his Services to the King of Gath—Duties of a Mercenary—Battle of Gilboa and David’s Position—He is made King of Judah—War with Esh-Baal—Intrigues with Abner—Murder of Esh-Baal—David revolts from the Philistines and becomes King of Israel—Capture of Jerusalem, which is made the Capital—Results of this—Conquest of the Philistines, of Moab, Ammon, Zobah, and Edom—The Israelitish Empire—Murder of Uriah and Birth of Solomon—Influence of Nathan—Polygamy and its Effects in the Family of David—Revolt of Absalom—Of Sheba—Folly and Ingratitude of David—Saul’s Descendants sacrificed because of a Drought—The Plague and the Purchase of the Site of the Temple—David’s Officers and last Instructions—His Character—Chronology—Solomon puts Joab and Others to Death—His Religious Policy—Queen of Sheba—Trade and Buildings—Hiram of Tyre—Palace and Temple Built—Tadmor—Zoological and Botanical Gardens—Discontent in Israel—Impoverishment of the Country—Jeroboam—Tastes and Character of Solomon ... Pp. [332]-480
ABBREVIATIONS
W. A. I. = Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia. Published by the Trustees of the British Museum.
Z.D.M.G. = Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenländischen Gesellschaft.
W. & A. = Winckler and Abel’s edition of the Tel el-Amarna Tablets at Berlin and Cairo in Mitthetlungen aus den orientalischen Sammlungen, i. ii. iii.
CHAPTER I
THE HEBREW PATRIARCHS
Who were the Hebrews?—Origin of the Name—Ur and its Kings—Amraphel or Khammu-rabi—Canaanites in Babylonia—Harran—The Amorites—Abram in Canaan and Egypt—The Campaign of Chedor-laomer—Melchizedek—Sodom and Gomorrha—Circumcision—Name of Abraham—Hebrew and Aramaic—Moab and Ammon—Amorite Kingdoms—Dedan—Sacrifice of the firstborn—Mount Moriah—Purchase of the Field of Machpelah—The Hittites—Babylonian Law—Isaac as a Bedâwi Shêkh—Esau and the Edomites—Jacob—Settles at Shechem—His Sons—The Israelitish Tribes—Joseph—The Hyksos in Egypt—Egyptian Character of Joseph’s History—Goshen—Deaths of Jacob and Joseph.
The historian of the Hebrews is met at the very outset by a strange difficulty. Who were the Hebrews whose history he proposes to write? We speak of a Hebrew people, of a Hebrew literature, and of a Hebrew language; and by the one we mean the people who called themselves Israelites or Jews, by the other the literary records of this Israelitish nation, and by the third a language which the Israelites shared with the older population of Canaan. It is from the Old Testament that we derive the term ‘Hebrew,’ and the use of the term is by no means clear.
Abram is called ‘the Hebrew’ before he became Abraham the father of Isaac and the Israelites. The confederate of the Amorite chieftains of Mamre, the conqueror of the Babylonian invaders of Canaan, is a ‘Hebrew’; when he comes before us as a simple Bedâwi shêkh he is a Hebrew no longer. When Joseph is sold into Egypt it is as a ‘Hebrew’ slave; and he tells the Pharaoh that he had been ‘stolen’ out of ‘the land of the Hebrews.’ The oppressed people in the age of the Exodus are known as ‘Hebrews’ to their Egyptian taskmasters. Moses was one of ‘the Hebrews’ children’; and he declares to the Egyptian monarch that Yahveh of Israel was ‘the God of the Hebrews.’ It would seem, therefore, as if it were the name by which the people of Canaan, and more especially the Israelites, were known to the Egyptians.
And yet there is no certain trace of it on the Egyptian monuments. In the Egyptian texts the south of Palestine is called Khar, perhaps the land of the ‘Horites’; the coast-land is termed Zahi, ‘the dry’; and the whole country is indifferently known as that of the Upper Lotan or Syrians, and of the Fenkhu or Phœnicians. When we come down to the age of the nineteenth dynasty we find the name of Canaan already established in Egyptian literature. Seti I. destroyed the Shasu or Bedâwin from the frontiers of Egypt to ‘the land of Canaan’; and in a papyrus of the same age we hear of Kan’amu or ‘Canaanite slaves’ from the land of Khar. Of any name that resembles that of the Hebrews there is not a trace.
It is equally impossible to discover it in the cuneiform records of Babylonia and Assyria. The Babylonians, from time immemorial, called Palestine ‘the land of the Amorites,’ doubtless because the Amorites were the dominant people there in those early ages when Babylonian armies first made their way to the distant West. The Assyrians called it ‘the land of the Hittites’ for the same reason, while in the letters from the Asiatic correspondents of the Pharaoh found at Tel el-Amarna, and dating from the century before the Exodus, it is termed Kinakhna or Canaan. How then comes Joseph to describe it as ‘the land of the Hebrews,’ and himself as a ‘Hebrew’ slave?
More than one attempt has been made to identify the mysterious name with names met with in hieroglyphic and cuneiform texts. The Egyptian monuments refer to a class of foreigners called ’Apuriu, who were employed in the time of the nineteenth and twentieth dynasties to convey the blocks of stone needed for the great buildings of Egypt from the quarries of the eastern desert. We are told how they dragged the great altar of the Sun-god to Memphis for Ramses II.; and how, at a much later date, Ramses IV. was still employing eight hundred men of the same race to transport his stone from the quarries of Hammamât. Chabas and some other Egyptologists have seen in these ’Apuriu the Hebrews of Scripture, and have further identified them with the ’Aperu mentioned on the back of a papyrus, where it is said that one of them acted as a sort of aide-de-camp to the great conqueror of the eighteenth dynasty, Thothmes III.
But there are serious objections to these identifications.[[1]] There are reasons for believing that the ’Aperu and the ’Apuriu do not represent the same name; and no satisfactory explanation has hitherto been forthcoming as to why we should meet with Hebrews of the Israelitish race still serving as public slaves in Egypt so long after the Exodus as the reigns of Ramses III. and Ramses IV. Moreover, in one text it is stated that the ’Apuriu belonged ‘to the ’Anuti barbarians,’ who inhabited the desert between Egypt and the Red Sea. It is true that some of the Semitic kinsfolk of the Israelites led a nomad life here in the old times, as they still do to-day; nevertheless, ‘the ’Anuti barbarians’ were for the most part of African origin, and the eastern desert of Egypt is not quite the place where we should expect to find the nearest kindred of a Canaanitish people. At present, at all events, the identification of Hebrews and ’Apuriu must be held to be non-proven.
Since the discovery of the cuneiform tablets of Tel el-Amarna another attempt has been made to find the name of the Hebrews outside the pages of the Old Testament. Ebed-Tob, the vassal-king of Jerusalem, in his letters to Khu-n-Aten, the ‘heretic’ Pharaoh of the eighteenth dynasty, speaks of certain enemies whom he terms Khabiri. They were threatening the authority of the Egyptian monarch, and had already captured several of the cities under Ebed-Tob’s jurisdiction. The Egyptian governors in the south of Palestine had been slain, and the territory of Jerusalem was no longer able to defend itself. If the Pharaoh could send no troops at once, all would be lost. The Khabiri, under their leader Elimelech, were already established in the country, and in concert with the Sutê or Bedâwin were wresting it out of the hands of Egypt.[[2]]
Some scholars, with more haste than discretion, have pronounced the Khabiri of the cuneiform tablets to be the Hebrews of the Old Testament. If that were the case, Hebrew and Israelite could no longer be considered to be synonymous terms. In the age of the Khabiri the Israelites of Scripture were still in Egypt, where the cities of Ramses and Pithom were not as yet built, and their leader to the conquest of Canaan was Joshua, and not Elimelech. When in subsequent centuries Ramses II. and Ramses III. invaded and occupied Palestine, they found no traces there of the children of Israel. They have left us lists of the places they captured; we look in vain among them for the name of Israel or of an Israelitish tribe. We look equally in vain in the Book of Judges for any allusion to Egyptian conquests.
The Khabiri, then, are not the Hebrews of Scripture, nor does the word throw any light on the term ‘Hebrew’ itself. Khabiri is really a descriptive title, meaning ‘Confederates’; it was a word borrowed by Babylonian from the language of Canaan, but is met with in old Babylonian and Assyrian hymns.[[3]] It may be that Hebron, the city of ‘the Confederacy,’ derived its name from these ‘Confederated’ bands; at all events, the name of Hebron is nowhere mentioned by Ebed-Tob or his brother governors, and it first appears in the Egyptian records in the time of Ramses III. under the form of Khibur.[[4]]
The Tel el-Amarna tablets, accordingly, give us no help in regard to the name of the Hebrews, nor do any other cuneiform inscriptions with which we are acquainted. Babylonian records do indeed speak of a people called the Khabirâ, but they inhabited the mountains of Elam, on the eastern side of Babylonia, and between them and the Hebrews of Scripture no connection is possible.[[5]] In an old Babylonian list of foreign countries we read of a country of Khubur, which was situated in northern Mesopotamia in the neighbourhood of Harran; but Khubur is more probably related to the river Khabur than to the kinsfolk of Terah and Laban.[[6]] Moreover, a part of the mountains of the Amanus, overlooking the Gulf of Antioch, from whence logs of pine were brought to the cities of Chaldæa, was also known as Khabur.[[7]]
Archæological discovery, therefore, has as yet given us no help. We must still depend upon the Old Testament alone for an answer to our question, Who were the Hebrews? And, unfortunately, the evidence of the Old Testament is by no means clear. We have seen that on one side by the Hebrews are meant the Israelites, and that from time to time the Israelitish descendants of Abraham are characterised by that name. But on the other side there are passages in which a distinction seems to be made between them. Though Joseph is a Hebrew slave, it is because he has been stolen out of ‘the land of the Hebrews.’ Canaan, accordingly, even before its conquest by the Israelites, was inhabited by a Hebrew people. So, too, in the early days of the reign of Saul, the Israelites and the Hebrews appear to be still separate. While ‘the men of Israel’ hide themselves in caves and thickets, ‘the Hebrews’ cross over the Jordan to the lands of Gad and Gilead (1 Sam. xiii. 6, 7). Similarly we are told that in Saul’s first battle with the Philistines ‘the Hebrews’ that were with the enemy deserted to ‘the Israelites’ that were with Saul (1 Sam. xiv. 21).
Perhaps, however, all that is intended in these passages is to emphasise the fact that among the Philistines, as among the Egyptians, the children of Israel were known as ‘Hebrews.’ The difficulty is that such a name is not found in the monumental records of Egypt. When Shishak describes his campaign against Judah and Israel, it is not the Hebrews, but the Fenkhu and the ’Amu whom he tells us he has conquered.
In fact, the Egyptian equivalent of Hebrew is ’Amu. What Joseph calls ‘the land of the Hebrews’ would have been termed ‘the land of the ’Amu’ by an Egyptian scribe. Joseph himself would have been an ’Amu slave. ’Amu signified an Asiatic in a restricted sense. It denoted the Asiatics of Syria and of the desert between Palestine and Egypt. It included also the nomad tribes of Edom and the Sinaitic Peninsula. It was thus larger in its meaning than the Biblical ‘Hebrew’; but, at the same time, it conveyed just the same ideas, and was used in much the same way. The Hyksos conquerors of Egypt were termed ’Amu, and a famous Syrian oculist in the days of the eighteenth dynasty is described as an ’Amu of Gebal. The name is probably derived from the Canaanitish and Hebrew word which signifies ‘a people.’
The name ‘Hebrew’ comes from a root which means ‘to pass’ or ‘cross over.’ It has been variously explained as ‘a pilgrim,’ ‘a dweller on the other side,’ ‘a crosser of the river.’ But the second explanation is that which best harmonises with philological probabilities. We find other derivatives from the same root. Among them is Abarim, the name of that mountain-range of Moab on ‘the other side’ of the Jordan, from whence Moses beheld the Promised Land (Numb. xxvii. 12), as well as Ebronah, near the Gulf of Aqaba, one of the resting-places of the children of Israel (Numb. xxxiii. 34). Hebrew genealogists indeed seem to have connected the name with that of the patriarch Eber. But this is in accordance with that spirit of Semitic idiom which throws geography and ethnology into a genealogical form. It is probable that the name of the patriarch is merely the Babylonian ebar, ‘a priest,’ which is met with in Babylonian contracts of the age of Abraham.
Professor Hommel, however, supplementing a suggestion of Dr. Glaser, has recently drawn attention to certain facts which throw light on the early use of the name ‘Hebrew,’ even if they do not remove all the difficulties connected with it.[[8]] A Minæan inscription from the south of Arabia, in which the name of ’Ammi-zadoq occurs, couples together the countries of Misr or Egypt, of Aashur, the Ashshurim of Gen. xxv. 3, and of ’Ibr Naharân, ‘the land beyond the river.’ In another Minæan inscription of the same age, the name of ’Ibr Naharân is replaced by that of Gaza. It is clear, therefore, that in ’Ibr Naharân we must see the south of Palestine. But the Minæan texts are not alone in their use of the term. A broken Assyrian tablet from the library of Nineveh[[9]] also refers to Ebir-nâri, ‘the land beyond the river,’ in Canaan, and associates it with Beth-el, Tyre, and Jeshimon. Professor Hommel is probably right in assigning the inscription to the reign of Assur-bel-Kala, the son of Tiglath-pileser I. (B.C. 1080). At all events, the name seems to be of Babylonian origin, like most of the geographical expressions adopted by the Assyrians, and it is consequently very possible that Ebir-nâri primarily signified the country on the western bank of the Euphrates, where Ur was situated, and that it was subsequently extended to the country west of the Jordan when Syria became a province of the Babylonian empire.[[10]]
However this may be, the question with which we started remains unanswered. We are still unable to define with exactness who the Hebrews were. The origin and first use of the name are still a matter of doubt. We must be content with the fact that it came to be applied—if not exclusively, at all events predominantly—to the people of Israel in their dealings with their foreign neighbours. It may be that this special application of it was first fixed by the Philistines. In any case it was a name which was accepted by the Israelites themselves, and gradually became synonymous with all that was specifically Israelitish. Even the old ‘language of Canaan,’ as it is still called by Isaiah (xix. 18), became ‘the Hebrew language’ of modern lexicographers. For us of to-day the history of the Hebrew people means the history of the descendants of Israel. It is with ‘Abram the Hebrew’ that the history begins. Future ages looked back upon him as the ancestor of the Hebrew race, ‘the rock’ from whence it was ‘hewn.’ He had come from the far East, from ‘Ur of the Casdim’ or Babylonians. His younger brother Haran had died ‘in the land of his nativity’; with his elder brother Nahor and himself, his father Terah had migrated westward, to Harran in Mesopotamia. There Terah had died, and there Abram had received the call which led him to journey still further onwards into the land of Canaan.
He was already married. Already in Babylonia he had made Sarai his wife, who is also said to have been his step-sister; while the wife, Milcah, whom his brother Nahor had taken to himself, was his niece. A time came when both Abram and Sarai took new names in token of the covenant they had made with God. Abram became Abraham, and Sarai became Sarah.
Upon these beginnings of Hebrew history light has been thrown by the decipherment of the cuneiform inscriptions. The site of ‘Ur of the Chaldees’ has been found. Geographers are no longer dependent on Arab legends or vague coincidencies with classical names. Ur was one of the most ancient and prosperous of Babylonian cities. The very name meant ‘the city’; it was, in fact, the capital of a district, and its kings at one time had claimed sway over the rest of Chaldæa. Alone among the great cities of Babylonia, it stood on the western bank of the Euphrates in close contact with the nomad tribes of Semitic Arabia. More than any other of the Babylonian towns it was thus able to influence and be influenced by the Semites of the west; it was an outpost of Babylonian culture, and its position made it a centre of trade.
Its mounds of ruin are now known as Muqayyar or Mugheir. Highest among them towers the mound which covers the remains of the great temple of the moon-god. For it was to Sin, the moon-god, that the city had been dedicated from time immemorial, and in whose honour its temple had been built. There was only one other temple of Sin that was equally famous, and this was the temple which stood at Harran in Mesopotamia, and which, like that at Ur, had been erected and endowed by Babylonian kings.
It was not only with the Semites of Northern Arabia that Ur carried on its trade. It lay not very far from the mouth of the Euphrates, which in early days flowed into the Persian Gulf nearly a hundred miles to the north of the present coast. We hear in the cuneiform tablets of ‘the ships of Ur,’ and these ships must have been used in the trade that was carried on by water. The products of Southern Arabia could thus be brought to the Chaldean city; perhaps also there was intercourse even with Egypt.
The kings of Ur grew in power, and a dynasty arose at last which gained ascendency over the other states of Babylonia. We are beginning to learn something about these kings and the society over which they ruled. During the last few years excavations have been carried on by the Americans, by the French, and even by the Turkish Government, which have brought to light thousands of early cuneiform records, some of which are dated in their reigns. A large proportion of these records are contracts which throw an unexpected light on the commerce and law, the manners and customs and social life of the inhabitants of Babylonia at the time.
Among the last kings of the dynasty of Ur were Inê-Sin and Pûr-Sin, whose names, it will be observed, are compounded with that of the patron-god of the state. Inê-Sin not only invaded Elam, but the distant west as well. His daughters married the High-Priests both of Ansan in Elam and of Markhasi, now Mer’ash, in Syria.[[11]] But it was not the first time that Babylonian armies had marched to the west. Centuries before (about B.C. 3800) another Babylonian king, Sargon of Accad, had made campaign after campaign against the land of the Amorites, as Syria and Palestine were called, had set up images of himself on the shores of the Mediterranean, and had united all Western Asia into a single empire, while his son and successor had marched southward into the Sinaitic Peninsula.[[12]] A predecessor of Inê-Sin himself, Gimil-Sin by name, had overrun the land of Zabsali, which Professor Hommel is probably right in identifying with Subsalla, from whence an earlier Babylonian prince obtained stone for his buildings, and which, we are told, was in the mountains of the Amorites. The stone, in fact, was the limestone of the Lebanon.[[13]]
Inê-Sin married his daughter to the High-Priest of Zabsali, but his successor Pûr-Sin II. appears to have been one of the last of the dynasty. Babylonia fell under Elamite domination, and a line of kings arose at Babylon whose names show that they came from Southern Arabia. The first of them was Khammu-rabi, whose reign lasted for fifty-five years. He proved himself one of the most able and vigorous of Babylonian monarchs. Before he died he had driven the Elamites out of the country, and united it into a single monarchy, with Babylon for its capital.
When Khammu-rabi first mounted the throne, he was a vassal of the king of Elam. In Southern Babylonia, not far from Ur, though on the opposite side of the river, was a rival kingdom, that of Larsa, whose king, Eri-Aku or Arioch, was the son of an Elamite prince. His father Kudur-Mabug is called ‘the Father of the land of the Amorites,’ implying not only that Canaan was subject at the time to Elamite rule, but also that Kudur-Mabug held some official position there. In one of his inscriptions Eri-Aku entitles himself ‘the shepherd of Ur,’ and tells us that he had captured ‘the ancient city of Erech.’
In Eri-Aku or Arioch, Assyriologists have long since seen the Arioch of the book of Genesis, the contemporary of Abram; and their belief has been raised to certainty by the recent discovery by Mr. Pinches of certain fragmentary cuneiform tablets in which allusion is made not only to Khammu-rabi, but also to the kings who were his contemporaries. These are Arioch, Kudur-Laghghamar or Chedor-laomer, and Tudghula or Tid’al. Khammu-rabi, accordingly, must be identified with Amraphel, who is stated in the Old Testament to have been king of Shinar or Babylonia, and we can approximately fix the period when the family of Terah migrated from Ur of the Chaldees. It was about 2300 B.C. if the chronology of the native Babylonian historians is correct.[[14]]
There was at this time constant intercourse between Babylonia and the West. The father of Eri-Aku, as we have seen, bore the title of ‘Father of the land of the Amorites,’ and Khammu-rabi himself claimed sovereignty over the same part of the world. So, too, did his great-grandson Ammi-satana (or Ammi-dhitana), who in one of his inscriptions adds the title of ‘king of the land of the Amorites’ to that of ‘king of Babylon.’ Indeed, the kings of the dynasty to which Khammu-rabi belonged bear names which are almost as much Canaanitish or Hebrew as they are South Arabic in form. The Babylonians had some difficulty in spelling them, and in the contract-tablets, consequently, the same name is written in different ways. Thus we learn from a philological tablet in which the names are translated into Semitic Babylonian that Khammu and Ammi are but variant attempts to represent the same word—that of a god whose name appears in those of South Arabian princes as well as Israelites of the Old Testament, and from whom the Beni-Ammi or Ammonites derived their name.[[15]]
The founder of the dynasty had been Sumu-abi (or Samu-abi), ‘Shem is my father,’ and his son had been Sumu-la-il, ‘Is not Shem a god?’ The monarchs who ruled at Babylon, therefore, when Abram was born claimed the same ancestor as did Abram’s family, and worshipped him as a god. The father of Ammi-satana was Abesukh, the Abishua’ of the Bible; and his son was Ammi-zaduq, where zaduq, ‘righteous,’ is a word well known to the languages of Southern Arabia and Canaan, but not to that of Babylonia. The kings who succeeded to the inheritance of the old Babylonian monarchs of Ur were thus allied in language and race to the Hebrew patriarch.
But this is not all. We find in the contracts which were drawn up in the reigns of the kings of Ur and the successors of Sumu-abi not only names like Sabâ, ‘the Sabæan,’ which carry us to the spice-bearing lands of Southern Arabia,[[16]] but names also which are specifically Canaanitish, or as we should usually term it, Hebrew, in form. Thus Mr. Pinches has discovered in them Ya’qub-il and Yasup-il, of which the Biblical Jacob and Joseph are abbreviations, and elsewhere we meet with Abdiel and Lama-il, the Lemuel of the Old Testament. Even the name of Abram (Abi-ramu) himself occurs among the witnesses to a deed which is dated in the reign of Khammu-rabi’s grandfather, and its Canaanitish character is put beyond question by the fact that he is called the father of ‘the Amorite.’[[17]]
From other documents we learn that there were Amoritish or Canaanite settlements in Babylonia where the foreigner was allowed to acquire land and carry on trade with the natives. One of these was just outside the walls of Sippara in Northern Babylonia, and a good many references to it have already been detected. Thus in the reign of Ammi-zaduq a case of disputed title was brought before four of the royal judges which related to certain feddans or ‘acres’ of land ‘in the district of the Amorites,’ ‘at the entrance to the city of Sippara’;[[18]] and a contract dated in the reign of Khammu-rabi’s father further describes the district as just outside the principal gate of the city. It included arable and garden land, pasturage and woods, as well as houses, and was thus like the land of Goshen, which was similarly handed over to the Israelites to settle in. An Egyptian inscription of the time of the eighteenth dynasty also speaks of a similar district close to Memphis, which had been given to the Hittites by the Pharaohs.[[19]] The strangers had their own judges. We learn, for instance, from a lawsuit which was decided in the time of Khammu-rabi that a Canaanite, Nahid-Amurri (‘the exalted of the Amorite god’), who was defendant in a case of disputed property, was first taken, along with the plaintiff, before the judges of Nin-Marki, ‘the lady of the Amorite land,’ and then before another set of judges and the assembled people of the city. It is clear from this that the judges who were deputed to look after the interests of the settlers from the West also acted when one of the parties was a native of Babylonia.[[20]]
The migration of Terah and his family thus ceases to be an isolated and unexplained fact. In the age to which it belonged Canaan and Babylonia were in close connection one with the other. Babylonian kings claimed rule over Canaan, and Canaanitish merchants were established in Babylonia. The language of Canaan was heard in the Babylonian cities, and even the rulers of the land were of foreign blood. Between Babylonia and Canaan there was a highway which had been trodden for generations, and along which soldiers and civil officials, merchants and messengers, passed frequently to and fro.
Midway, on a tributary of the river Belikh, was the city of Harran, so called from a Sumerian word which signified ‘a high-road.’ Its name pointed to a Babylonian foundation, as did also its temple dedicated to the Babylonian moon-god. The temple, in fact, counted among its founders and restorers a long line of Babylonian and Assyrian kings, and almost the last act of the Babylonian Empire was the restoration of the ancient shrine. Merodach, the god of Babylon, came in a dream to the last of the Babylonian monarchs, and bade him raise once more from its ruins the sanctuary of his brother-god. And Nabonidos tells us how he performed the task laid upon him, how he disinterred the memorial-stones of the older Assyrian kings, and how ‘by the art of the god Laban, the lord of foundations and brickwork, with silver and gold and precious stones, with spices and cedarwood,’ he built again Ê-Khulkhul, ‘the temple of rejoicing.’ The moon-god, Sin, who was adored within it, was known throughout the Aramaic lands of Northern Syria as Baal-Kharran, ‘the Lord of Harran.’
But there was another city of the moon-god besides Harran. This was Ur in Babylonia. In Babylonian literature it is commonly known as the city of Sin. Between Ur and Harran there must have been some close connection, and it may be that Harran owed its foundation to the kings of Ur. At all events, there was good reason why an emigrant from Ur should establish his abode in Harran. Both cities were under the same divine patron, and that meant, in the ancient world, that both lived the same religious and civil life. Harran obeyed the rule of the Babylonian kings; its very name showed that it was of Babylonian origin, and its culture was that of Babylonia. Law and religion, manners and customs, all were alike in Harran and Ur. The migration from the one city to the other did not differ from a change of dwelling from London to Edinburgh.
The country in which Harran was built formed part of the vast tract between the Tigris and Euphrates, which was known to the Babylonians in early days as Suru or Suri, a name which perhaps survived in that of the city Suru, the Suriyeh of modern geography. In Semitic times it was called Subari or Suwari by the Assyrians, sometimes also Subartu. Suru thus corresponded with our Mesopotamia, though it seems to have included a part of Northern Syria as well. But to the district in which Harran stood the Babylonians gave a more special name. It was Padan or Padin, ‘the cultivated plain,’ of which it is said in a cuneiform tablet that it lies ‘in front of the mountains of the Aramæans,’[[21]] while an early Babylonian sovereign entitles himself king of Padan as well as of Northern Babylonia.[[22]] The name bore witness to the fertility of the country to which it was applied. The Babylonian lexicographers make padan a synonym of words signifying ‘field’ and ‘garden’; it was, in fact, originally the piece of ground which a yoke of oxen could plough in a given period of time. Hence it came to mean an ‘acre,’ a sense which still survives in the Arabic feddân. The Babylonian leases and sales of land which were drawn up in the Abrahamic age repeatedly describe the ‘feddans’ or ‘acres’ of which the property consists. The fertile plain of Mesopotamia, accordingly, was not a plain merely; it was also ‘the field’ or ‘acre’ of Aram where the Semites of the Aramæan stock ploughed and harvested their corn.[[23]]
In Egyptian its name was Naharina. The name had been borrowed from the Aramæans, who called their country the land of Naharain, ‘the two rivers.’ In Canaan, as we know from the cuneiform tablets of Tel el-Amarna, it bore the Canaanitish form of Naharaim, Nahrima, the final nasal of the Aramaic dialects becoming m. Aram-Naharaim was thus the Egyptian and Canaanitish title of the country which the Babylonian spoke of as Padan Arman, ‘Padan of the Aramæans.’ Both names go back to the age before the Israelitish Exodus out of Egypt; the one belongs to Egypt and Palestine, the other to Babylonia.
Before the age of the Exodus, however, the Aramæan population of Mesopotamia became the subjects of a people who seem to have come from the north. Mitanni, on the eastern bank of the Euphrates, not far from the modern Birejik, became the capital of a kingdom which extended over Naharaim on the one side, and to the neighbourhood of the Orontes on the other. The race which founded the kingdom spoke a language unlike any other with which we are acquainted; it was, however, agglutinative, and exhibits certain general resemblances to some of the languages of the Caucasus. From the sixteenth century B.C. onwards, Mitanni and Naharaim are synonymous terms, even though, at times, the Egyptian scribes still observed the old distinction between them; even though also, it may be, Naharaim had a larger meaning than Mitanni. But the kings of Mitanni were vigorous and powerful. In the age of the Tel el-Amarna correspondence we find them intriguing with the Hittites and Babylonians in the Egyptian province of Canaan, and Ramses III. of the twentieth Egyptian dynasty still counts the people of Mitanni among his enemies. At an earlier date the royal families of Egypt and Mitanni had intermarried with one another, and the marriages had introduced new ideas and a revolutionary policy into the ancient monarchy of the Nile. When the kingdom of Mitanni had been founded we do not know. There is no trace of it in the earlier records of Babylonia, and we may safely say that it arose long after the era of Khammu-rabi and Abram.[[24]]
Terah, we are told, died in Harran, and there Nahor, his second son, remained to dwell. Terah and Nahor are names which we look for in vain elsewhere in the Old Testament or in the inscriptions of Babylonia. And yet light has been thrown upon them by the cuneiform texts. Tablets have been found in Cappadocia, written in archaic cuneiform characters and in a dialect of Assyrian, which are at least as old as the the of the Tel el-Amarna letters; according to some scholars, they are coeval with the dynasty of Khammu-rabi. In one of these tablets we find the word, or name, Nakhur; what its signification may be, we cannot, unfortunately, tell; all we can be sure of is that it was known to the Semitic inhabitants of eastern Cappadocia, not far from the Aramæan border.[[25]] The name of Terah points in the same direction, Tarkhu was a god whose name enters into the composition of Cappadocian and North-Syrian princes; he was worshipped by the Hittites, and so belongs to the same region as that in which we have found the name of Nahor.
But neither Tarkhu nor Nakhur is Aramaic in the usual sense of the term. Both seem to belong to that mixed dialect which has been revealed to us by German excavation at Sinjerli, north of the Gulf of Antioch, and about which scholars have disputed whether to call it Hebraised Aramaic or Aramaised Hebrew. At any rate, it is a dialect which, though Aramaic in origin, has been profoundly influenced by ‘the language of Canaan.’ It bears witness to the existence of a Hebrew-speaking population in that part of the world. It would be rash to affirm that this population already existed there in patriarchal days, though words which seem to be of Hebrew origin are met with in the Cappadocian tablets. But we now know that Northern Syria was once the meeting-place of the northern Semitic languages; that here they mingled with one another and with other languages which were not Semitic in type, and that here alone, outside the pages of the Old Testament, are the names of Terah and Nahor to be found.[[26]]
Nahor remained in Harran, but Abram moved on still further to the West. The road was well known to his contemporaries, and probably followed the later line of march which led past Carchemish, now Jerablûs, Aleppo, and Hamath. From Hamath southward the land was in the possession of the Amorites. Their chief seat was immediately to the north of the Palestine of later days, but they had already occupied large portions of the territory to the south of them as far as the Dead Sea and the limits of the cultivated land. They had been for many centuries the dominant people of the West. Already in the time of Sargon of Akkad they had given their name among the Babylonians to Central Syria and Canaan. The name, indeed, goes back to the pre-Semitic days of Babylonian history. What the Semites called the land of the Amurrâ or Amorites, the Sumerians had termed Martu. And the two names, Amurrâ and Martu, continued to designate Syria and Palestine almost to the latest epoch of Babylonian political life.
The monuments of Egypt have shown us what these Amorites were like. They belonged to the blond race, like the Libyans of Northern Africa. At Abu-Simbel their skins are painted yellow—the Egyptian equivalent of white—their eyes blue, and the beard and eyebrows red. At Medînet Habu the skin, as Professor Flinders Petrie expresses it, is ‘rather pinker than flesh-colour,’ while in a tomb of the eighteenth dynasty at Thebes it is painted white, the eyes and hair being a light red-brown. At Karnak the names of the places captured by Thothmes III. in Palestine are surmounted by the figures of Amorites whose skin is alternately red and yellow, the red denoting sunburn, the yellow what we term white. In features the Amorites belonged to the Indo-European type. The nose was straight and regular, the forehead high, the lips thin, and the cheek-bones somewhat prominent, while they wore whiskers and a pointed beard. So far as we can judge from the representations of the Egyptian artists, they belonged to a dolichocephalic or long-headed race.[[27]]
That they were tall in stature we know from the Old Testament. By the side of them the Hebrew spies described themselves as grasshoppers. The cities they built were strong and ‘walled up to heaven’; the thick walls of one of them have been disinterred on the site of Lachish by Professor Petrie and Mr. Bliss. But though the Babylonians continued to include Canaan in the general term, ‘land of the Amorites,’ and spoke of the Canaanite himself as an ‘Amorite,’ they nevertheless came to know that there was a distinction between them. The Babylonian king, Burna-buryas, whose letters to the Egyptian Pharaoh have been found at Tel el-Amarna, distinguishes Kinakhkhi or Canaan from the land of the Amorites, which had come to be confined to the country immediately to the north of Palestine. From the seventeenth century B.C. downwards, Amorite and Canaanite cease to be synonymous terms. It is only in certain parts of the Pentateuch that the old Babylonian use of the name ‘Amorite’ still survives.
It was a use that never prevailed among the Assyrians. When Assyria became a kingdom, and its rulers first led their armies to the West, the Amorites were no longer the dominant power. Their place had been taken by the Hittites. And it is the Khattâ or Hittites, therefore, who in the Assyrian inscriptions, as distinguished from those of Babylonia, are the representatives of Western Syria. On the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser II., now in the British Museum, even Ahab of Israel and Ba’asha of Ammon are included among the ‘kings of the country of the Hittites.’ But of this Assyrian use of the term Hittite there are slight, if any, traces in the Old Testament.[[28]]
Abram, the Hebrew, first pitched his tent near the future Shechem, under ‘the terebinth of Moreh.’ Moreh is the Sumerian Martu, ‘the Amorite,’ in Hebrew letters; and the fact gives point to the statement which follows immediately, that ‘the Canaanite’—and not the Amorite—‘was then in the land’ (Gen. xii. 6). ‘The mountain of Shechem’ is mentioned in an Egyptian papyrus which describes the travels of an Egyptian officer in Palestine, in the fourteenth century B.C.,[[29]] but the book of Genesis represents the city as founded only in the lifetime of Jacob (Gen. xxxiv. 6). Hence we are told that it was to ‘the place’ or ‘site’ of Shechem that Abram made his way, not to the town itself. And after the foundation of the town its Canaanite inhabitants are still called Amorites, in accordance with ancient Babylonian custom (Gen. xlviii. 22).
We next find the Hebrew patriarch in Egypt. There was famine in Canaan, and Egypt was already the granary of the eastern world. In the Tel el-Amarna tablets we hear of Egyptian corn being sent to the starving population of Syria; and Meneptah, the son of the Pharaoh of the Exodus, tells us that he had loaded ships with wheat for the Hittites when they were suffering from a famine. The want of rain which destroyed the crops of Canaan did not affect Egypt, where the fertility of the soil depends upon the irrigating waters of the Nile.
Egypt at the time must have been under the sway of the Hyksos kings. They were Asiatic invaders who had overrun the country from north to south, and established themselves on the throne of the Pharaohs. In three successive dynasties did they govern the land, and the descendants of the native monarchs sank into hiqu or vassal ‘princes’ of Thebes. At first, it is said, they laid Egypt waste, destroying the temples and massacring the people. But the influence of Egyptian culture soon led them captive. The Hyksos court became Egyptianised; the Hyksos king assumed the titles and state of the ancient sovereigns; Sutekh, the Hyksos god, was identified with Ra, the Sun-god of On, and the official language itself remained Egyptian. A treatise on mathematics, one of the few scientific works that have survived the shipwreck of Egyptian literature, was written under the patronage of the Hyksos king, Apophis I.[[30]]
Nevertheless, with all this outward varnish of Egyptian culture, the Hyksos rule continued to be foreign. Even the names of the kings were not Egyptian, and up to the last the supreme object of their worship was a foreign deity. According to the Sallier Papyrus, the war of independence was occasioned by the demand of Apophis II. that Sutekh, and not Amon, should be acknowledged as the god of Thebes, and a scarab found at Kom Ombos in 1896 bears upon it, in confirmation of the story, the name of Sutekh-Apopi.[[31]] Moreover, the Hyksos capital was not in any of the old centres of Egyptian government. Zoan, it is true, now Sân, in the north-eastern part of the Delta, was nominally their official residence; but they preferred to dwell in the fortress of Avaris, on the extreme eastern edge of Egypt, and within hail of their Asiatic kinsmen. It was from Avaris that Apophis had sent his insolent message to the terrified Prince of Thebes.
The Hebrew visitor to Egypt, therefore, was among friends and not strangers. Moreover, he had only to cross the frontier to find himself in the presence of the Pharaoh’s court. Whether at Zoan or at Avaris, it was alike close at hand to the traveller from Asia.
After leaving Egypt, Abram established himself at Hebron. It would seem that the name of Hebron, ‘the Confederacy,’ was not yet in existence, as it was to the ‘terebinth’ of Mamre, and not of Hebron, that Abram ‘removed his tent.’ Indeed, it is more than doubtful whether Mamre and Hebron occupied precisely the same site. It may be that Mamre was the older fortress of the Amorites, whose place was taken in after times by the town which gathered round the adjoining sanctuary of Hebron.
In any case, its population was Amorite, though probably we should understand ‘Amorite’ here in its Babylonian sense. ‘Abram the Hebrew,’ it is declared, ‘dwelt under the terebinth of Mamre the Amorite, brother of Eshcol and brother of Aner; and these were confederate with Abram.’ In other words, the Hebrew settler in Canaan had formed an alliance with the native chiefs.
Then came an event upon which the cuneiform records of Babylonia are beginning to cast light. Chedor-laomer, king of Elam, and the vassal kings Amraphel of Shinar, Arioch of Ellasar, and Tid’al of ‘nations,’ marched against the five Canaanitish princes of the Vale of Siddim at the northern end of the Dead Sea, bent upon obtaining possession of the naphtha springs that abounded there, and the produce of which had already made its way to Babylonia. No resistance was made to the invader; it is clear, in fact, that the invasion was no new thing, and that the rest of Canaan was already subject to the lords of the East. For ‘twelve years’ the five Canaanitish kings ‘served Chedor-laomer, and in the thirteenth year they rebelled.’ Once more, therefore, the forces of Elam and Babylonia moved westward. The revolt, it would appear, had spread to other parts of the ‘land of the Amorites,’ and the invading army marched southward along the eastern side of the Jordan. First, the Rephaim were overthrown at Ashteroth-Karnaim, in ‘the field of Bashan,’ as it was termed in the days of the Tel el-Amarna tablets; then followed the turn of the Zuzim in the future land of Ammon, and of the Emim in what was to be the land of Moab; and after smiting the Horites of Mount Seir, the invaders penetrated into the wilderness of Paran, fell upon the desert sanctuary of Kadesh, now called ’Ain el-Qadîs, and returned northward along the western shore of the Dead Sea. They had thus partially followed in the footsteps of an earlier Chaldæan king, Naram-Sin, who centuries before had made his way to the Sinaitic Peninsula, and there gained possession of the coveted copper-mines.
The native princes in the Vale of Siddim were no match for the foe. A battle was fought which ended disastrously for the Canaanitish troops. The kings of Sodom and Gomorrah were slain, their men were driven into the naphtha-pits of which the plain was full, or else fled to the mountains. Their cities fell into the hands of the conquerors, who carried away both captives and spoil.
But Abram heard that among the captives was his ‘brother’ Lot. Thereupon he started in pursuit of the Chaldæan army, with his three hundred and eighteen armed followers and the forces of his Amorite allies. The victorious army was overtaken near Damascus, and its rear surprised in a night attack. The captives and spoil were recovered, and brought back in triumph to the south of Canaan. Here at the ‘King’s Dale,’ just outside the walls of Jerusalem, the new king of Sodom went to welcome him; and Melchizedek, the priest-king of Jerusalem, blessed the conqueror in the name of ‘the Most High God.’
The history of the campaign of Chedor-laomer reads like an extract from the Babylonian chronicles. It is dated in the reign of the king of Shinar or Babylon, as it would have been had it been written by a Babylonian scribe, although the Babylonian king was but the vassal and tributary of the sovereign of Elam. Even the spelling of the names indicates that they are taken from a cuneiform document. ‘Ham’ for Ammon, and ‘Zuzim’ for Zamzummim, can be explained only by the peculiarities of the cuneiform system of writing.[[32]]
The whole story, however, has been thrown into a Canaanitish form. The king of Northern Babylonia, whose capital was Babylon, has become a king of Shinar, that being the name given in the West to the northern half of Chaldæa.[[33]] Larsa, the capital of Eri-Aku or Arioch, has been transformed into Ellasar, perhaps through the influence of the Babylonian al, city.’ Lastly, Tid’al, the Tudghula of the cuneiform texts, is entitled the ‘king of nations.’
The fragmentary tablets discovered by Mr. Pinches, in which we hear of Khammu-rabi, king of Babylon, of Eri-Aku or Arioch, and his son Bad-makh-dingirene, and of Kudur-Laghghamar, the Chedor-laomer of Genesis, refer to Tudghula or Tid’al as ‘the son of Gazza[ni].’ Unfortunately, the words which follow, and which gave a description of the prince, have been lost through a fracture of the clay tablet. But there is another tablet from which we may supply the deficiency. On the one hand we are told that Tudghula burned the sanctuaries of Babylonia and allowed the waters of the Euphrates to roll over the ruins of the great temples of Babylon; on the other hand we read: ‘Who is this Kudur-Laghghamar who has wrought evil? He has assembled the Umman Manda, has devastated the land of Bel, and [has marched] at their side.’ Elsewhere Kudur-Laghghamar is called the king of Elam.[[34]]
The Umman Manda were the barbarous tribes in the mountains which adjoined the northern part of Elam and formed the eastern boundary of Babylonia. The term means the ‘Nomad,’ or ‘Barbarous Peoples,’ and is thus the Babylonian equivalent of the Hebrew Goyyim, ‘Nations.’[[35]] What the ‘Gentiles,’ or Goyyim, were to the Hebrews, or the ‘Barbarians’ to the Greeks, the Umman Manda were to the civilised population of Chaldæa. The fact that the king of Elam summons them to his help when he invades Babylonia implies that they acknowledged his suzerainty. It would seem, therefore, that the ‘Nations’ over which Tid’al is said to have ruled were the Kurdish tribes to the east of the Babylonian frontier.
Khammu-rabi eventually succeeded in overthrowing the king of Elam, in crushing his rival Eri-Aku and his Elamite allies, and in making himself master of an independent Babylonia, which was henceforth a united kingdom, with its centre and sovereign city at Babylon. Recent excavations have brought letters of his to light which were written to his faithful vassal Sin-idinnam, Sin-idinnam had been the king of Larsa whom Eri-Aku and his Elamite troops had driven from the city of his fathers, and he had found refuge and protection in the court of Khammu-rabi at Babylon. When the great war finally broke out, which ended in leaving Khammu-rabi sole monarch of Babylonia, Sin-idinnam rendered him active service, and after the conclusion of the struggle he was reinstated in his ancestral princedom. Khammu-rabi loaded him with other honours as well; and one of the letters which have been recovered refers to certain statues which were presented to him as a reward for his ‘valour on the day of Kudur-Laghghamar’s defeat.’ This was an Oriental anticipation of the statues which the Greek cities of a later age bestowed upon those they would honour.[[36]]
It has been suggested that the reverse sustained by Kudur-Laghghamar in Palestine at the hands of the ‘Amorites,’ under the leadership of ‘Abram the Hebrew,’ may have given the king of Babylon his opportunity for successfully revolting from his liege lord. If so, the Hebrew patriarch would have influenced the destinies of the country he had forsaken. What is more certain is that his victory gave him a commanding position in the country of his adoption. Syrian legend in after days made him a king in Damascus;[[37]] and when he buys the rock-tomb of Machpelah, the owners of the land tell him that he is no ‘stranger and sojourner’ among them, but ‘a mighty prince,’ ‘a prince of Elohim.’ From henceforth the ‘Hebrew’ occupies a recognised place in ‘the land of the Amorites.’
The figure of Melchizedek, king of Salem, loomed large upon the imagination of later ages out of the mists that enveloped the history of Canaanitish Jerusalem. But the romance is now making way for sober history. The letters on clay tablets in the Babylonian language and writing, found at Tel el-Amarna in Upper Egypt, have come to our help. Several of them were sent to the Pharaoh from Ebed-Tob, king of Jerusalem, and they show that Jerusalem was already the dominant state of Southern Palestine. Its strong position made it a fortress of importance, and it was the capital of a territory which stretched away towards the desert of the South. Its name was already Jerusalem or Uru-Salim, ‘the city of Salim,’ the God of Peace, and the hieroglyphic texts of Egypt accordingly speak of it simply as Shalama or Salem, omitting the needless Uru, ‘city.’[[38]]
Ebed-Tob reiterates that he was not, like the other governors of Canaan, under Egyptian rule. They had been appointed to their offices by the Pharaoh, or had inherited them by descent from the older royal lines of the country whom the Egyptian Government had allowed to remain. He, on the contrary, was the friend and ally of the Egyptian king. His kingly dignity had not been derived from either father or mother, but from the ‘Mighty King,’ from the god, that is to say, whose temple stood on ‘the mountain of Jerusalem.’ He was, therefore, a priest-king, without father or mother, so far as his royal office was concerned.[[39]]
That the king of Salem, the priest of the God of Peace, should have come forth from his city and its temple to welcome the conqueror when he returned in peace, was both natural and fitting. It was equally natural and fitting that he should bless the Hebrew in the name of the ‘Most High God’—the patron deity of Jerusalem, whom Ebed-Tob identifies with the Babylonian Ninip—and that Abram should in return have given him tithes of the spoil. From time immemorial, the esrâ or tithe had been exacted in Babylonia for the temples and their priests, and had been paid alike by prince and peasant. It passed to the West along with the other elements and institutions of Babylonian culture.[[40]]
The destruction of the cities of the Vale of Siddim, which is represented as occurring not long after the retreat of the king of Elam, made a profound impression on the Western world. References are made to the catastrophe up to the latest days of Hebrew literature; and the mist caused by the evaporation of the salt on the surface of the Dead Sea was popularly supposed to be the smoke which hung eternally over the ruins of the doomed cities of the plain. The storm which burst from the heavens set fire to the naphtha springs that oozed through the soil, and houses and men alike were enveloped in a sheet of fire. Similar catastrophes have happened in our own time at Baku on the Caspian, where the petroleum, accidentally ignited, has blazed for days in columns of fire.
Ingenious Germans have connected with the destruction of Sodom and its sister cities a passage in the Latin writer Justin (xviii. 3. 2, 3), in which it is said that the Phœnicians were driven to the Canaanitish coast by an earthquake which took place in their original home near ‘the Assyrian lake.’ Instead of ‘Assyrian,’ some manuscripts read ‘Syrian,’ and the lake has accordingly been imagined to be the Dead Sea, and the earthquake to be the rain of fire which destroyed the cities of the plain.[[41]] But there is no other instance in which the Dead Sea is called ‘the Syrian lake,’ supposing this to be the true reading, nor is there any trace of an earthquake in the catastrophe described in Genesis. Moreover, the unanimous voice of classical antiquity declared that the Phœnicians had come from the Persian Gulf, not from the valley of the Jordan, and their seafaring propensities were explained by the fact that they once lived in the islands of the Erythræan Sea. Whatever the ‘Assyrian lake’ may have been, it was not the ‘Salt Sea’ of the Old Testament.
The Israelites traced back to Abram the rite of circumcision which they practised. The rite, however, was not confined to Israel. So far as Western Asia is concerned, it seems to have been of African origin. It is to be found among most of the races and tribes of Africa, and in Egypt the institution was of immemorial antiquity. According to Herodotos (ii. 36), the Egyptians, the Ethiopians, and the Kolkhians alone observed it ‘from the beginning,’ the Phœnicians and Syrians of Palestine having learned it from the Egyptians, and the Cappadocians from the people of Kolkhis. But the knowledge of the world possessed by Herodotos was limited, and his anthropology is not profound. The practice is met with in various parts of the world; it owes its origin to considerations of chastity, its maintenance to sanitary reasons. It is true that Africa was peculiarly its home, and that it seems to have been common to the aboriginal tribes of that continent, but it is also true that it was known to aboriginal tribes in other parts of the globe among whom—so far as our evidence can tell us—the practice originated independently.[[42]]
Whether it was originally a Semitic as well as an African rite, we do not at present know. We have as yet no certain evidence that it was practised among the Babylonians. Indeed, the fact that Abraham was not circumcised until after his arrival in Canaan would imply that it was not. Even in Canaan itself there were tribes, apart from the Philistine immigrants, to whom it was unknown, as we learn from the story of Hamor and Shechem (Gen. xxxiv. 14, sqq.). And though the inhabitants of Northern Arabia were circumcised in their thirteenth year, as we are told by Josephus, it is doubtful whether the same custom prevailed in the southern half of the peninsula. So far as Midian was concerned, we have express testimony (Exod. iv. 24-26, cf. ii. 19) that the rite was regarded as peculiar to the stranger from Egypt.
It seems probable, therefore, that Herodotos was right in declaring that circumcision had been introduced into Palestine by the Egyptians. Intercourse between Canaan and the Delta went back to the early days of Egyptian history, and it would not be surprising if Egyptian influences had found their way into Canaan at the same time. Canaanitish slaves were carried into the valley of the Nile, and doubtless Egyptian slaves were at times kidnapped into Canaan.
The circumcision of Abraham and his household may, consequently, have been in accordance with a custom which had already grown up among the Amoritish population around him. But whether this were the case or not, the rite received a new meaning and assumed a new form. It became the sign and seal of a religious covenant. Those who had been circumcised were thereby devoted to the God of Abraham and his descendants. Henceforth there was not only a division between the circumcised and the uncircumcised, there was also a division between those who had received the circumcision of Abraham and those who had not. It is noticeable that the narrative expressly includes among those who were thus outwardly dedicated to the God of Israel not only the ancestor of the Ishmaelite tribes of Northern Arabia, but also the foreign slaves who belonged to the household of the patriarch. They had left the home of their fathers, and his God accordingly had become theirs. The fact is paralleled by the law relating to another seal of the covenant between Israel and its God; the Sabbath had to be kept not only by the Israelite, but also by the ‘stranger’ within his gates.
A change of name accompanied the rite which the patriarch performed. The Babylonian Abram became the Palestinian Abraham. To the native of the old Oriental world the name was not merely the representation of a thing; it was, in a measure, the thing itself. Even Greek philosophy failed at first to distinguish between an object and its expression in speech. A thing was known only through its name, and in the name were to be found its qualities and its essence. A name which brought with it unlucky associations was itself the bringer of ill-luck, but the ill-luck would turn to good if once the name were changed. The belief has lingered on into our own times, and the change of the Cape of Storms into the Cape of Good Hope is an illustration of its influence. The name meant personality as well as a thing. The man himself was changed when his name was changed. Hence it was that the Canaanites or Karians, who settled in Egypt, and there became Egyptian citizens, at once assumed Egyptian names. They had left Canaan and Karia behind them, with the gods and the habits of their ancestors, and had adopted the religion and manners of another country. They had, as it were, stripped themselves of their old personality, and had clothed themselves with a new one. It was thus a new personality that was assumed by the Babylonian Abram when he became the Abraham of Western Asia. It cut him off, as it were, from the land of his birth, and gave him a new birth in the country of his adoption. The merchant-prince of Babylonia, who had overthrown the rearguard of the host of Chedor-laomer, and whose maid had borne to him the ancestor of the Ishmaelites, thus passed into the forefather and founder of the Israelitish race.
The etymology and meaning of the new name are unknown. It would seem that they had been forgotten even at the time when the book of Genesis was written. At all events, the explanation of the name given there (xvii. 5) is one of those plays upon words of which the Biblical writers, like Orientals generally, are so fond. ‘Ab-(ra)ham,’ it is said, is Ab-ham(ôn), ‘the father of a multitude,’ in total disregard of the second syllable of the name. It may be, however, that there was still a tradition that in raham we have a word which had a similar signification to that of hamôn, ‘a multitude,’ though the attempts that have been made to discover any word of the kind in the Semitic languages have hitherto been unsuccessful. We must be content with the fact that Ab-ram, ‘the exalted father,’ was transformed into the Israelitish Ab-raham.[[43]]
The change of name was followed by the birth of Isaac and the expulsion of Ishmael from his father’s house. Closely allied in blood as the Ishmaelites of north-western Arabia were to the house of Israel, it was only in part that they shared in the covenant made with their common father. Circumcision indeed they also possessed, but to Israel alone was granted the Law. To Israel alone did God reveal Himself under His name of Yahveh.
The inscriptions of a later age, which have been found in the Ishmaelite territory, show that the language then spoken by the Ishmaelitish tribes was Aramaic rather than what we call Arabic.[[44]] From the borders of Babylonia to the Sinaitic Peninsula, and as far north as the mountain-ranges of the Taurus, Aramaic dialects were used. How far the difference in language meant that the populations who spoke these Aramaic dialects differed also in blood from the other members of the Semitic family, we do not know, but it is probable that the difference in blood was not great. The Semitic family seems to have been as homogeneous in race as it was in speech, and the differences in speech were comparatively slight. In fact, the Semitic languages do not differ more from one another than the languages of modern Europe which claim descent from Latin, and it is probable that the speaker of an Aramaic dialect would not have had very great difficulty in making himself intelligible to the speakers of what we term Hebrew.
Hebrew was, as Isaiah tells us (xix. 18), ‘the language of Canaan.’ The fact became clear to European scholars as soon as the Phœnician inscriptions were deciphered. Between the Hebrew of the Old Testament and the Phœnician of the older inhabitants of Canaan the differences are less than those between one English dialect and another. Chief among them is the absence in Phœnician of the Hebrew article and waw conversivum. But the idiom to which grammarians have given the latter name seems to have been an independent creation of Hebrew itself, and even in Hebrew it disappeared in the later stage of the language. The article is found in the so-called Lihyanian inscriptions of Northern Arabia,[[45]] and we may regard it as one of the indications that the Israelites had been Bedâwin before they entered Palestine and made their way from the desert into the Promised Land.
The Tel el-Amarna tablets have carried the history of Canaanitish or Hebrew beyond the age of the Exodus. In some of the letters written from Palestine the writers have added the Canaanitish equivalents of certain Assyrian words and phrases. They show that from the pre-Mosaic epoch down to the period of the Exile the language changed but little; the words and phrases that have thus been preserved being substantially the same as those which we find in the pages of the Old Testament.[[46]]
The northern boundary between Canaanitish and Aramaic dialects was among the mountains of Gilead. This is made clear by the narrative of the covenant between Laban and Jacob. At Mizpah, the ‘Watch-tower,’ which guarded the approaches to the south, a cairn was raised, called Yegar-sahadutha in the language of Laban, Galeed in that of Jacob (Gen. xxxi. 47, 48). The two names alike signified the ‘heap of witnesses,’ but while the first was Aramaic, the second was Canaanitish. The fact that the names survived into later history shows that the line of demarcation between the two Semitic languages which they represent continued to remain in the same place.[[47]]
Jacob, despite his long residence in Aram and his relationship to an Aramæan family, is nevertheless Canaanite in his language. It is a sign and proof how completely the ancestors of the Israelites had identified themselves with the country which their descendants were afterwards to possess. The Canaanitish history of Israel begins long before the days of Moses or Joshua; it already dates from the day when the Babylonian Abram became the Abraham of Canaan, and when the field of Machpelah was sold to him by the children of Heth.
It is true that Jacob—or it may be, Terah—is once called in the Old Testament (Deut. xxvi. 5) ‘a wandering Aramæan.’ But he was so only in a secondary sense. It was not as an Aramæan, but as a wanderer out of Aramaic lands, that the title is given him. Israel was closely connected with Aram and Harran, but it was a relationship only.
Discoveries recently made in Northern Syria by the German explorer, Dr. von Luschan, have thrown some light on the matter. At Sinjerli, twenty-five miles north-east of the Gulf of Antioch, and nearly midway between Yarpuz and Aintab, he has excavated the ruins of the capital of the ancient kingdom of Samâla, and found monuments which make mention of the Assyrian king Tiglath-pileser.[[48]] Most of them, in fact, were erected by a prince who acknowledged the supremacy of the Assyrian monarch, and whose father’s name is met with in the annals of the latter sovereign. The inscriptions on them are in an Aramaic dialect; but the dialect is so largely mixed with Hebrew words and idioms as to have made scholars doubt at first whether it was not an Aramaised form of Hebrew rather than an Hebraised form of Aramaic. In any case, it is plain that the dialect was in close contact with a population which spoke ‘the language of Canaan.’ Far away to the north, therefore, in the heart of an Aramaic country, there must have been speakers of Hebrew or Canaanite. Nor is this all. Two or three miles from the ruins of Samâla are the ruins of another ancient town, the modern name of which is Girshin. Here, too, the German excavators have found an inscription of the same age as those of Samâla, and we may gather from it that Girshin stands on the site of a city which was the capital of the land of ‘Ya’di.’ In the Tel el-Amarna tablets, written in the century before the Exodus, Yaudâ are mentioned as living in the same part of the world.[[49]] Now Yaudâ is also the Assyrian mode of spelling the name of the Jews, and it would accordingly seem that a tribe which bore a name similar to that of Judah existed in Northern Syria as far back as the Patriarchal age.[[50]]
All this is in singular harmony with the Scriptural narrative which tells us that a part of Terah’s family lingered at Harran, and that the wives of both Isaac and Jacob came from their Aramæan kindred in the north. There were Hebrews in Northern Syria as well as in Canaan, and Scripture and archæology are alike in agreement in testifying to the fact.
Even in Babylonia it may be that Abraham had been educated in ‘the language of Canaan.’ There were colonies of Amorite (or, as we should say, Canaanitish) merchants in Chaldæa who had special districts and privileges assigned to them by the Babylonian kings. Reference is not unfrequently made to them in the contracts of the Abrahamic age. The proper names, which sometimes make their appearance in deeds of sale or lease, or in legal suits in which the foreign merchants were involved, are Canaanitish and not Babylonian. Thus we find names like Ishmael and Abdiel, Jacob-el (Ya’qub-il), and Joseph-el (Yasup-il), and we even read of ‘the Amorite the son of Abi-ramu’ or Abram, who appears as a witness to a deed dated in the reign of the grandfather of Amraphel.
Israel thus stood in close relation to almost all the chief linguistic divisions of the Semitic world. Its first forefather had been born in the land where Babylonian—or Assyrian, as we usually term it—was spoken, and its contact with Aramaic had been early and intimate. Its desert wanderings had led it into a region into which the Bedâwin tribes of Central Arabia could make their way, and the Hebrew article seems to be a relic of its intercourse with them and the Arabic they spoke. But with all this contact with other Semitic tongues, Israel nevertheless remained true to that of the land of its destiny: the language of the Old Testament is the language which was spoken in Canaan before the days of Moses, the language of the inscriptions of Phœnicia and Carthage, the language of Hannibal as well as of Joshua.
If Israel was connected by language with Canaan, it was connected by blood as well as by language with Moab, and Ammon, and Edom. In fact, Edom and Israel were brothers. While the relationship with Moab and Ammon was comparatively distant, the relationship with Edom was peculiarly close. The fact was never forgotten, and in the later days of Jewish history the unbrotherly conduct of Edom caused a bitterness of feeling towards it on the part of the Jews such as no other Gentiles were able to excite.
Moab and Ammon were the children of Lot, and had possessed themselves of the mountain and fertile plains on the east side of the Dead Sea and southern course of the Jordan long before Israel had entered into its inheritance, or even Edom had carved out a possession for itself with the sword. They were accused of being of incestuous origin, and it was related how the ancestors of each had been born in hiding and in the wild solitude of a cave. Moab was the eldest, Ben-Ammi, ‘the Ammonite,’ being the younger of the two.
The name of Moab (or Muab) is engraved among the conquests of the Egyptian Pharaoh, Ramses II., on the base of one of the statues which stand before the northern entrance of the temple of Luxor. Ammi, whose ‘son’ the ancestor of the Ammonites was called, was the supreme God of Ammon, standing to the Ammonites in the same relation that Chemosh stood to Moab, or Yahveh to Israel. Ammon, indeed, is but another form of Ammi. The god was widely worshipped, as we may learn from the proper names into which his own name enters. Thus the Old Testament knows of Ammiel, ‘Ammi is god’; of Ammi-shaddai, ‘Ammi is the Almighty’; and of Ammi-nadab, ‘Ammi is noble.’ Ammi-nadab was king of Ammon in the time of the Assyrian king Assur-bani-pal; the early Minæan inscriptions of Southern Arabia contain names like Ammi-zadoq and Ammi-zadiqa, ‘Ammi is righteous,’ as well as Ammi-karib and Ammi-anshi; while among the kings of the south Arabian dynasty which ruled over Babylonia in the age of Abraham we find Ammi-zadoq, or Ammu-zadoq and Ammi-dhitana; and the Kadmonite chieftain east of the Jordan, with whom the Egyptian fugitive Sinuhit found a home in the time of the twelfth dynasty, bore the name of Ammi-anshi.[[51]] Balaam the seer, moreover, was summoned by the king of Moab from his city of Pethor, at the junction of the Euphrates and the Sajur, in ‘the land of the children of Ammo,’—for such is the correct translation of the Hebrew text. It may not be an accident that one who thus belonged to the ‘Beni-Ammo,’ or ‘Ammonites’ of the north, should have been called to the country which bordered on that of the Beni-Ammi, or Ammonites of the south.[[52]]
A few miles to the north of Pethor was Carchemish, now Jerablûs, which was destined to become one of the most important strongholds of the Hittite tribes. The Semites explained the name as ‘the fortified wall of Chemosh’;[[53]] and whether this etymology were true or not, at all events it indicates a belief that the worship of Chemosh extended as far northward into Aram as did the worship of Ammi. Chemosh was the national god of Moab. Like Yahveh of Israel and Assur in Assyria, he had neither wife nor children; and on the Moabite Stone even the Babylonian goddess Ashtar, whose cult had been carried to the West, is identified with him. She ceases to have any independent existence or sex of her own, and is absorbed into the one supreme deity of Moabite faith. It is probable that Ammi also was similarly conceived of as standing alone in jealous isolation, supreme over all other gods, and having no consort with whom to share his power.
Moab and Ammon were alike intruders in the lands which subsequently bore their names. The older inhabitants of Moab were known as the Emim, ‘a people great and many and tall, as the Anakim, which also were accounted giants.’ Ammon too had been ‘accounted a land of giants: giants dwelt therein in old time, and the Ammonites call them Zamzummim.’ The word rendered ‘giants’ in the Authorised Version is Rephaim; and it is very possible that a trace of it survives in the name On-Repha, ‘On of the giant,’ the Raphon or Raphana of classical geography, which is coupled by the Egyptian conqueror Thothmes III. with Astartu or Ashteroth-Karnaim.[[54]] When Chedor-laomer made his campaign in Canaan the Rephaim were still living at Ashteroth-Karnaim, and the ‘Zuzim’ or Zamzummim in ‘Ham.’ The name of the latter seems to occur in the inscriptions of the kings of Ur, who reigned some centuries before the birth of Abraham; they mention hostile expeditions against the land of Zavzala or the Zuzim; and a Babylonian high-priest who owned allegiance to one of them brought blocks of limestone for his temples and palace from the same district, which he tells us was situated ‘in the mountains of the Amorites.’[[55]]
Whether or not the Emim and Zamzummim were Amorite tribes, we cannot tell. The physical characteristics ascribed to them in the Old Testament would, however, seem to indicate that such was the case. Moreover, the Amorites had at one time been the dominant population, not only in Palestine itself, but also in the country east of the Jordan as well as in the Syrian districts to the north. When the Babylonians first became acquainted with Western Asia in the fifth or fourth millennium before the Christian era, the inhabitants of Syria were mainly of the Amorite race. Syria, accordingly, and more especially that part of it which is known to us as Palestine, was called in the old agglutinative language of Chaldæa ‘the land of Martu’ or ‘the Amorite,’ a word which has survived in the book of Genesis under the form of Moreh.[[56]] When the older language of Chaldæa made way for Semitic Babylonian, Martu became Amurru, and Hadad, the supreme Baal or sun-god of Canaan, became known as ‘Amurru,’ ‘the Amorite.’ By the Egyptians the Amorites were termed Amur; and, as has been already stated,[[57]] the Egyptian artists have shown us that they were a fair-skinned people, with blue eyes and reddish hair; that they were also tall and handsome, and wore short and pointed beards. In fact, they resembled in features the Libyans of Northern Africa, whose modern descendants—the Kabyles of Algeria—offer such a striking likeness to the golden-haired Kelt. The Amorite type may still be seen in its purity among the Arabs of the El-Arîsh desert, who inhabit the district between the frontiers of Palestine and Egypt: many of the latter, as we see them to-day, might well have sat for the portraits of the Amorites depicted on the walls of the old Egyptian temples and tombs. It would seem that the Amorite race, fair and tall and energetic, once extended along the northern coast of Africa into Asia itself, where they occupied the larger part of Southern Syria. There they have left behind them cromlechs and dolmens which remind us of those of our own islands. Indeed, if the Amorite were the eastern branch of the Libyan race, it is probable that he could claim kindred with the so-called red Kelt of Britain. The physiological characteristics of the Libyan and fair-haired Kelt are similar; and many anthropologists assume the existence of a Libyo-Keltic or ‘Eurafrican’ family, which has spread northward through Spain and the western side of France into the British Isles.[[58]]
The Emim and Zamzummim, accordingly, whom the descendants of Lot partly expelled, partly absorbed, may have been of Amorite origin, and connected in race with a portion of the population of our own country. At all events, when the Israelites entered Canaan, the Amorites were already settled on the eastern side of the Jordan. At that time the land was divided between the Amalekites or Bedâwin of the desert to the south, the Hittites, Jebusites, and Amorites ‘in the mountains,’ and the Canaanites on the coast of the Mediterranean and in the valley of the Jordan (Numb. xiii. 29). As might have been expected in the case of a fair-skinned people, the Amorites needed the bracing air of the mountains in order to hold their own against the other populations of the country; in the hot plains their vigour was in danger of being lost.
The Egyptian rule, which the Pharaohs of the eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties had maintained eastward of the Jordan, passed away with the fall of the Egyptian empire, and its place was taken by the Amorite kingdoms of Sihon and Og. Sihon had overthrown the Moabites in battle, and had wrested their territory from them as far south as the Arnon (Numb. xxi. 26). They had been driven out of their cities into the barren mountains which overlooked the Dead Sea. A fragment of the Amorite Song of Triumph which recorded the conquest has been preserved to us. ‘Come unto Heshbon,’ it said, ‘let the city of Sihon be built and fortified. For a fire has gone forth from Heshbon, a flame from the city of Sihon; it hath consumed Ar of Moab, and the Baalim of the high places of Arnon. Woe to thee, Moab! thou art undone, O people of Chemosh: [Chemosh] hath given his sons that escaped [the battle], and his daughters, into captivity unto Sihon king of the Amorites’ (Numb. xxi. 27-29).
The southern half of Ammon also, as far north as the Jabbok, was in Amorite hands. Here, however, the Ammonites had strongly fortified their ‘border’ (Numb. xxi. 24), so that neither Sihon himself, nor his Israelitish conquerors, succeeded in passing it. But Rabbah, ‘the city of waters,’ the future capital of Ammon, must have been held by the Amorites, and the two intrusive populations of Ammon and Moab were separated from one another by the Amorite conquest.
If the older inhabitants of the country were Amorite by race, the kingdom of Sihon will have represented an Amorite reaction against the descendants of Lot. But we must remember that the Babylonians had given the name of ‘Amorite’ to all the populations of Palestine and the adjoining districts, whether they were Amorites in blood or not. The old Babylonian usage is followed in several passages of the Pentateuch, and points to their origin in those pre-Mosaic days when Babylonian influence was still dominant in Western Asia. Thus in Gen. xv. 16, God declares to Abraham that ‘the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet full,’ and Jacob reminded his sons (Gen. xlviii. 22) that he had wrested Shechem ‘out of the hand of the Amorite’ with his sword and bow. Perhaps the emphatic statement that ‘the Canaanite was then in the land,’ which we read in Gen. xii. 6, is due to the previous mention of the terebinth of Moreh’ or Martu, Martu being the primitive Babylonian equivalent of the later ‘Amorite.’ The terebinth, indeed, was in the country of the Amorites, but the country was already inhabited by Canaanitish tribes.[[59]]
We cannot, then, be certain that the aboriginal peoples of Moab and Ammon were actually of the Amorite race. They were, it is true, included by the Babylonians under the common name of ‘Amorites,’ but this was because all the rest of the population of Southern Syria was known under the same title. The fact, however, that the Hebrew writers have described them as tall, like the Anakim, and that popular tradition should have spoken of them as Rephaim or giants, is in favour of their having been really of Amorite descent. In this case we may see in them the easternmost representatives of the blond race, and the builders of the cromlechs with which the hillsides of Moab are covered.
Southward of Moab came other tribes which, like the Ishmaelites, were said to have sprung directly from Abraham himself. These were the Midianites and the merchant tribes of Sheba and Dedan, who possessed stations on the great desert road that led from the spice-bearing regions of Southern Arabia to the borders of Canaan. They claimed to be the descendants of Keturah, or ‘Incence,’ the second wife of the Hebrew patriarch, after Sarah’s death. Another genealogy (Gen. x. 7) placed Sheba and Dedan in the extreme south of the Arabian peninsula, among the children of Cush. Both genealogies, however, are correct. Sheba was the kingdom of the Sabæans, whose centre was in Southern Arabia, but whose power and commerce extended far to the north. Their trading settlements and garrisons were to be found in the immediate neighbourhood of Midian, at Tema, the modern Teimah, and elsewhere.[[60]] If Professor Hommel is right in identifying Dedan with Tidanum, one of the names by which Palestine was known in early days to the natives of Babylonia, it would seem that the Dedanites also had become a leading people on the frontiers of Canaan. At all events, it is clear that Abraham was claimed as an ancestor by the tribes of Western Arabia from its northern to its southern extremity, by the descendants of Keturah on the western coast and caravan-road, as well as by the Ishmaelites further to the east. They represented the trading and more cultured population of the peninsula as opposed to the wild Amalekites or Bedâwin hordes, who had their home among the mountains of Seir and the desert south of Palestine. The connection between Midian and Israel, which found expression in a common ancestry, was reasserted in later days when the great legislator of Israel fled to Midian and married the daughter of its high-priest.
How nearly that connection had been lost through the death of the forefather of the Israelitish people was recorded in the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. A voice came to Abraham, which he believed to be divine, bidding him offer ‘for a burnt-offering’ the son of his old age, the heir of the covenant which had been made with him. It was a form of sacrifice only too well known in Canaan. In time of pestilence or trouble the parent was called upon to sacrifice to Baal that which was dearest and nearest to him, his firstborn or his only son. The gods themselves had set the example. Once when a plague had fallen upon the land, El had clothed Yeud, his only son, in royal purple, and on one of the high-places of Palestine had offered him up to the offended deities.[[61]] The doctrine of vicarious sacrifice was deeply enrooted in the minds of the Canaanitish people. But it needed to be a sacrifice which cost the offerer almost as much as his own life. The fruit of his own body could alone wipe away the sin of his soul. And the sacrifice had to be by fire. Only through that purifying element could the stains of sin and impurity be obliterated, and the offering made acceptable to heaven.
The practice, horrible as it seems to us, was nevertheless founded on a truth. The victim, if he were to be accepted, must be the most precious that the offerer could present. The gods did not require that which cost him nothing. It needed to be the most costly that could be given; it needed to be also, in the words of the prophet, the fruit of the sinner’s own body. Nothing else would suffice: the gods demanded the firstborn son, still more the only son. In no other way could Baal be satisfied that the sinner had repented of his guilt or had made to him an offering which was of equal value to his own life.
The firstborn of all animals, of beasts as well as of men, was owed to the gods. The belief was not confined to the Canaanites. We find traces of it in Babylonian literature, and all the denunciations of the prophets before the Exile failed to eradicate it from the mind of the Jew. Up to the closing days of the Jewish monarchy, the valley of the sons of Hinnom was defiled with the smoke of the sacrifices wherein, as it is euphemistically said, the kings and people of Jerusalem made their children to pass through the fire. The belief, indeed, was consecrated by the Mosaic law itself. Human sacrifice, it is true, was forbidden, but the firstborn, nevertheless, had to be redeemed (Exod. xxxiv. 20). Like the firstfruits and the firstborn of beasts, Yahveh had declared that the firstborn of the sons of Israel also belonged to Him (Exod. xxii. 29). He could claim them, and it was of His own freewill that He waived the claim. And along with this assertion of His claim to the firstborn went the doctrine of vicarious punishment. It was not the firstborn only in whose case a substitution was allowed: once a year the sins of the whole people were laid upon the head of the scapegoat, which was then driven like an evil spirit into the wilderness. The idea of vicarious punishment, which lies at the foundation of historical Christianity, had already found expression in the Mosaic law.
The sacrifice of the firstborn was thus part of a larger conception behind which there lay a profound truth. The sins of the father were visited upon the child in more senses than one; the child, in fact, could become an expiation for them, and divert to himself the anger of the gods. Experience had shown how often the son must suffer for the deeds of the parent, and the inference was drawn that if that suffering were voluntarily offered to heaven by the parent, he would receive all the benefits that flowed from it. Moreover, the gods had a right to the firstborn, if they chose to exercise it; and in offering the firstborn, accordingly, man was only giving back to them what was strictly their own.
The heathenism of the Mosaic age went no further. Israel was the first to learn that the law of the substitution of the firstborn for the sins of the father was subordinate to a higher and more general law—that of vicarious punishment. As the firstborn of men could be substituted for the parent, so, too, could a lower animal, or the price of a lower animal, be substituted for the firstborn of men. It was not the sacrifice which the God of Israel demanded, but the spirit of sacrifice; not the blood of bulls and goats, or even men, but obedience and readiness to give up all that was dearest and best at the command of God.
The story of the sacrifice of Isaac was a practical illustration of the lesson. Abraham was called upon to slay with his own hand his only child, the son through whom he had believed that he would become the ancestor of a mighty nation. He was summoned to lead him to one of those high-places of Canaan where the deity seemed nearer to the worshipper than in the plain below, and there, like the Phœnician god El, to offer him up to his God. We are told how he set forth from Beer-sheba, on the borders of the desert, and on the third day reached the sacred mountain on whose summit the Canaanitish rite was to be celebrated. It was in ‘the land of Moriah,’ according to the reading of the Hebrew text, a name which the chronicler (2 Chron. iii. 1) transfers to the temple-mount at Jerusalem. But the Septuagint changes the name in the books of Chronicles into that of ‘the mountain of Amoria’ or the Amorites; while in Genesis the Greek translators must have read Moreh, since the Hebrew word is rendered by ‘Highlands.’ Moreh is the Babylonian Martu, the land of the Amorites, so that we need not be surprised at finding the Syriac version boldly substituting ‘Amorites’ for the Masoretic ‘Moriah.’
In any case, the belief that the scene of Abraham’s sacrifice was the spot whereon the Jewish temple afterwards stood went back to an early date. When the book of Genesis assumed its present form it had already become fixed in the Jewish mind. This is clear from the proverb quoted to explain the name of Yahveh-yireh. ‘To this day,’ we are told, it was said: ‘In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen.’ For the Jew there was but one ‘mount of the Lord,’ that mountain whereon Yahveh revealed Himself above the cherubim of the ark. It was ‘the hill of God,’ wherein He desired to dwell (Ps. lxviii. 15), the seat of the sanctuary of Yahveh the God of Israel. When the Samaritans set up on Gerizim their rival temple to that of Jerusalem, it was necessary that the scene of the sacrifice of the Hebrew patriarch should be transferred to the new site. It was a proof how firm was the conviction that the temple-mount had been consecrated to the sacrifice of the firstborn by the great ancestor of the Israelitish family. The spot whereon the victims of the Jewish ritual were offered up was the very spot to which Abraham had been led by God that he might offer there the terrible sacrifice of his only son. Its name had been given to it by Abraham, and this name found its explanation in a saying that was current at Jerusalem about the temple-mount.
The actual meaning of the name is not certain, nor indeed is the original signification of the proverb itself. Already in the time of the Septuagint translation the meaning of the latter was doubtful, and the Greek translators have made the divine name the subject of the verb, reading, ‘In the mountain the Lord was seen.’ But the fact that the Chronicler calls the temple-mount Moriah shows that such a rendering was not accepted in Jerusalem.
It may be that the name ‘mount of the Lord’ goes back, at all events in substance, to patriarchal times. Among the places in Southern Palestine conquered by the Egyptian Pharaoh, Thothmes III., of the eighteenth dynasty, and recorded on the temple walls of Karnak, is Har-el, ‘the mountain of God.’[[62]] The names found in immediate connection with Har-el indicate that its site is to be sought in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem; and as the name of Jerusalem itself does not occur in the Pharaoh’s list of his conquests, it is probable that we are to see in it the future capital of Judah. As we now know from the Tel el-Amarna tablets, Jerusalem was an important city of Canaan long before the Mosaic age; it was, moreover, the centre of a district which had been conquered by the Egyptians, and its ruler was a vassal of the Egyptian monarch. It is therefore difficult to account for the omission of any reference to it in the catalogue of the conquests of the Pharaoh except upon the supposition that it is really mentioned among them, though under another name.
The distance that separates Jerusalem from Beer-sheba would correspond with the three days’ journey of Abraham to the destined place of sacrifice. It was on the third day that Abraham lifted up his eyes ‘and saw the place afar off.’ The main, in fact, the only, argument of any weight that has been urged against the identification is the fact that the place of sacrifice seems to have been a desert spot. No spectators are mentioned as present, and close to it was a thicket in which a ram was caught by the horns. How can such solitude, it is asked, be reconciled with the existence of a city in the same spot? How can the deserted high-place whereon the patriarch raised the altar of sacrifice for his son be identical with the fortress-city of which Melchizedek was king?
At first sight the difficulty seems overwhelming. But we must remember that nothing is said in the narrative about the place being desert and remote from men, nor even that it was not within the walls of a city. And we must further remember that the temple of Solomon itself was built on what had been the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite. Before the age of Solomon, therefore, the place must have been open and free from buildings; it must, too, have been a level platform of rock on the summit of the hill where the winds could freely play and scatter the chaff when the grain was threshed. Such open spaces are not infrequent in Oriental cities, and the visitor sometimes finds himself suddenly emerging out of close and crowded lanes into a growth of rank brushwood and weeds.
It is true that in the books of Samuel, where we are told how the threshing-floor of the Jebusite came to be chosen as the site of the temple, no allusion is made to Abraham’s sacrifice. Another reason is assigned for the choice of the spot. But Oriental modes of writing history are not the same as ours, and the so-called argument from silence is worthless when applied to them. Archæological discovery has shown, time after time, that facts and references are passed over in silence by the writers of ancient Oriental history, not because the writers did not know them, but because their conception of history was different from ours.
Mount Moriah, then, may well have been the scene of that temptation of Abraham when, in accordance with the fierce ritual of Syria, he believed himself called upon to offer up in sacrifice his only son. At all events, the belief that it was so can be traced back to an early date among the Jews. The very fact that the Samaritans transported the place of sacrifice to Mount Gerizim proves that it had already been associated with the site of the temple, and the transference of the site was necessary in support of the claim that the true centre of Hebrew worship was at Samaria and not in Jerusalem.
Light has been cast on the substitution of a ram for the human victim by an acute observation of M. Clermont-Ganneau.[[63]] We know that human sacrifice occupied a prominent place in the ritual of Phœnicia and Carthage; and yet in the so-called sacrificial tariffs which have been discovered at Carthage and Marseilles, and in which the price is stated of each of the offerings demanded by the gods, there is absolute silence in regard to it. The place of the human victim is taken by the ayîl, the ‘ram’ of the book of Genesis.[[64]] The tariffs of Carthage and Marseilles belong to that later period of Phœnician religion, when contact with the Greeks had introduced Western ideas of the value of human life, and a truer conception of what the gods required. The merchants of Carthage had learned that Baal would be satisfied with a victim less costly than man, and would accept instead of him the blood of rams.
The lesson which the Carthaginians learned from contact with the Greeks had been taught the ancestors of the Hebrews by the Lord. The Law and the Prophets alike protested against the old belief, hard as it was to eradicate it from the Semitic mind. The sacrifice of Jephthah’s daughter stands alone, even in the troublous period of the Judges; the sacrifice of his eldest son by the king of Moab (2 Kings iii. 27), though it stayed the Israelitish attack, was the act of one who did not acknowledge Yahveh of Israel as his God; and the Jewish children who were burnt in the fire to Moloch were offered by renegades from the national faith. Israelitish law and history bear upon them the traces of the old Semitic custom, but they are traces only. The story of Abraham’s sacrifice is an antitype of the future history of the religion of Israel. The firstborn, indeed, belonged to Yahveh, if He chose to claim them; but, unlike the gods of the heathen, He did not claim them when they were the firstborn of man.
Once again we have a picture of Abraham; but this time it is not as the shêkh who conforms to the beliefs and practices of Canaan, but as a foreign prince who acquires land in the country of his adoption. Sarah is dead, and Abraham accordingly buys a field at Machpelah in the close neighbourhood of Hebron. The field included a portion of the limestone cliff which overlooked the city, and was pierced then, as now, by numerous cavities, partly natural, partly excavated by the hand of man. They were the burying-places of the inhabitants of the town, the chambered tombs in which the dead were laid to rest. That Abraham should choose Hebron as the future home and resting-place of his family was perhaps natural. It was here that he had lived when he first came, as an immigrant, into ‘the land of the Amorites’; it was here that he had been confederate with its Amorite chieftains, and had led his forces against the invading host of the king of Elam. Moreover, Hebron was one of the old centres of Canaan. It had been built seven years before Zoan in Egypt (Numb. xiii. 22), perhaps in the age when the Hyksos kings first conquered Egypt and rebuilt Zoan, making it the capital of their new kingdom. The sanctuary of Hebron rivalled that of Jerusalem in sanctity and fame, at all events in the years immediately succeeding the Israelitish conquest, and it was at Hebron that David first established his power and his son Absalom matured his rebellion.
In the age of Abraham the city had not yet received its later name of Hebron, the ‘Confederacy.’ It was still known as Kirjath-Arba, and the district in which it stood was that of Mamre. Amorites and Hittites dwelt there side by side. Arba, we are told, was ‘a great man among the Amorite Anakim’ (Josh. xiv. 15), but it was from ‘the sons of Heth’ that the field of Machpelah was bought.
Critics have raised the question who these Hittites of Southern Palestine may have been. It has been asserted that they are the invention of a later Hebrew writer, and that the Hittites of Northern Syria were never settled in the south of Canaan. On the other hand, the veracity of the Hebrew record has been admitted, but the identity of ‘the sons of Heth’ with the great Hittite tribes of the north has been denied.
The critics, however, have no grounds for their scepticism. The book of Genesis does not stand alone in testifying to the existence of Hittites in Southern Palestine. The prophet Ezekiel does the same. He too tells us that the origin of Jerusalem was partly Amorite, partly Hittite. Indeed, throughout the Pentateuch it is assumed that Hittites and Amorites were mingled together in the mountainous parts of the country. ‘The Hittites and the Jebusites and the Amorites,’ it is said in the book of Numbers (xiii. 29), ‘dwell in the mountains,’ and the same combination of names in the same order is found in the geographical table of Genesis (x. 15, 16). Between these Hittites and the Hittites of the north no distinction is made in the Old Testament. ‘The land of the Hittites,’ mentioned in Judg. i. 26, into which the Canaanite betrayer of Beth-el made his way, was in the north, like the Hittite kingdoms whose princes are referred to in 2 Kings vii. 6.
Thanks to archæological discovery, we now know a good deal about these Hittites of Northern Syria. Their name is found on the monuments of Egypt, of Assyria, and of Armenia, and they are mentioned in Babylonian tablets which go back to the age of Abraham. Cappadocia was their earliest home; from hence they descended on the possessions of the Aramæans and established their power as far south as the Lake of Homs. The cuneiform inscriptions of Armenia in the ninth century B.C. describe them as on the Upper Euphrates in the neighbourhood of Malatiyeh, and the Assyrian king Tiglath-pileser I. (B.C. 1100) tells us that Carchemish was one of their capitals. In the Tel el-Amarna tablets we hear of their growing power on the northern frontier of the Egyptian empire, of their intrigues with the Amorites and the people of Canaan, and of their steady advance to the south. Ramses II., the Pharaoh of the Oppression, after twenty years of warfare, was glad to conclude peace on equal terms with ‘the great king of the Hittites.’ The Hittite capital was already so near the northern border of Palestine as Kadesh on the Orontes ‘in the land of the Amorites.’ Here the Hittite monarch gathered together his vassals and allies from Syria and Asia Minor; even the distant Lycians and Dardanians came at his call.
The Egyptian artists have left us portraits of the Hittite race. Their features and dress were alike peculiar, and both reappear without change on certain monuments which have been found in Asia Minor and Syria, thus fixing the character of the latter beyond dispute. The monuments are covered with a still undeciphered system of hieroglyphic writing, and among the hieroglyphs are numerous human heads with the strange profile of the Hittite face. The nose and upper jaw protrude, the forehead is high and receding, the cheeks smooth, while we learn from the paintings of Egypt that the skin was yellow and the hair and the eyes were black. The hair was gathered together in a kind of ‘pig-tail,’ and the feet were shod with the shoes of mountaineers, the toes of which rose upwards into a point.[[65]]
Why should not a body of Hittites have settled in Southern Palestine, and there have been, as it were, interlocked with the older Amorite inhabitants, as they were according to the testimony of the Egyptian inscriptions at Kadesh on the Lake of Homs? Indeed, there is indirect evidence that such was really the case.
Thothmes III., who conquered Syria for the eighteenth Egyptian dynasty, tells us that he received tribute from the king of ‘the greater Hittite land.’ There was then a lesser Hittite land; and as the ‘greater Hittite land’ was in the north, it is reasonable to look for the lesser land in the south. Half a century later, at a time when the Tel el-Amarna correspondence was being carried on, the Hittites were actively interfering in the internal politics of Canaan; and in one of the bas-reliefs of Ramses II. at Karnak the vanquished population of Ashkelon—in the near neighbourhood of Hebron—is represented with the peculiar Hittite type of face.[[66]] At a still earlier date, when the Assyrians first became acquainted with Western Asia, the dominant people there were the Hittites. In the Assyrian inscriptions, accordingly, the whole of Syria, including Palestine, came to be known as ‘the land of the Hittites.’ Shalmaneser II. even speaks of Ahab of Israel and Baasha of Ammon as ‘Hittite’ kings.[[67]] ‘The land of the Hittites’ in the Assyrian texts thus corresponds with the ‘land of the Amorites’ in the texts of Babylonia. Just as Canaan was ‘the land of the Amorites’ to the Babylonian of the age of Abraham, so too it was ‘the land of the Hittites’ to the Assyrian of the age of Moses. Before Assyria had become acquainted with the shores of the Mediterranean, the Hittites had taken the place of the Amorites and become the leading power in the West.
There is, therefore, nothing antecedently improbable in the existence in Southern Palestine of Hittites of the genuine northern stock. But the name may also be due to the Assyrian use of it at the time when the narrative in the book of Genesis was written. The use of the term ‘Amorite’ in several passages of the Pentateuch is certainly of Babylonian origin, and takes us back to the age when all the natives of Palestine were alike included in it; it may be that the ‘Hittites’ of Hebron and Jerusalem owe their title to a similar adoption of a foreign term. If so, the Amorites and Hittites were equally one people; but whereas the name of ‘Amorite’ comes from Babylonia and indicates an earlier date for the sources of the narrative in which it occurs, the name of ‘Hittite’ points to Assyria and the Assyrian epoch of Asiatic history.
Against this is the Babylonian colouring of the story of Abraham’s dealings with the children of Heth. During the last few years thousands of contract-tablets have been discovered in Babylonia which belong to the age of Abraham or to a still earlier period. And these tablets show that in the account of the purchase of the field of Machpelah we have a faithful picture of such transactions as they were conducted at the time in the cities of Babylonia. It reads, in fact, like one of the cuneiform documents which have been unearthed from Babylonian soil. It is conformed to the law and procedure of Babylonia as they were in the patriarchal age. At a later date the law and procedure were altered, and a narrative in which they are embodied must therefore go back to a pre-Mosaic antiquity. It must belong to the Babylonian and not to the Assyrian epoch.
That the law and custom of Babylonia should have prevailed in Canaan is no longer surprising. The same contract-tablets which have revealed to us the commercial and social life of primitive Chaldæa have also shown us that colonies of ‘Amorite’ or Canaanitish merchants were settled in Babylonia, where they enjoyed numerous rights and privileges, and could acquire land and other property. There were special districts called ‘Amorite’ allotted to them, one of which was just outside the walls of the city of Sippara. They had judges of their own, and where disputes arose between themselves and the native Babylonians the case was tried before both the ‘Amorite’ and the native courts. These foreign settlers could act as witnesses in trials that concerned only Babylonians, and could even rise to high offices of state. It must be remembered, however, that the Babylonian kings claimed to be kings also of ‘the land of the Amorites,’ and that consequently the natives of Canaan were as much subjects of the rulers of Chaldæa as the Babylonians themselves.
Through the Canaanitish colonies in Babylonia a knowledge of Babylonian law was necessarily communicated to the commercial world of the West. Moreover, Babylonian rule brought with it Babylonian culture and law as well. The ‘Amorites’ when the Babylonians first met with them were doubtless in a semi-barbarous condition, and their subsequent culture, as we now know, was wholly Babylonian. A very important part of this culture, at all events in the eyes of the trading world, was the law of Babylonia, more especially in its relation to contracts. That the purchase of the field of Machpelah should have been conducted with all the formalities to which Abraham had been accustomed in his Chaldæan home, is consequently what archæological discovery has informed us ought to have been the case.
A simple form of contract for the sale and purchase of landed property in Babylonia is to be found in one that was drawn up in the reign of Eri-Aku or Arioch. It is written in Sumerian, the old legal language of Chaldæa, as Latin was the legal language of Europe in the Middle Ages, and runs as follows:—‘One and five-sixths sar[[68]] of a terrace with a house upon it, bounded on three sides by the house of Abil-Sin, and on the fourth side by the street, has been purchased by Sin-uzilli the son of Tsili-Istar from Sin-illatsu the son of Nannar-arabit: 2-½ shekels of silver he has weighed as its full price. In days to come Sin-illatsu shall never make any claim in regard to the house or dispute the title. The (contracting parties) have sworn by the names of Sin, Samas, and king Eri-Aku. Witnessed by Abu-ilisu the son of Tsili-Istar, Abil-Sin the son of Uruki-bansum, Nur-Amurri the son of Abi-idinnam, Ibku-Urra, son of Nabi-ilisu, and Sin-semê his brother. The seals of the witnesses (are attached).’[[69]]
Still more insight into the character and procedure of Babylonian commercial law is given by the record of a case of disputed property which came before the judges in the reign of Khammu-rabi or Amraphel. The following is a translation of it:—‘Concerning the garden of Sin-magir which Naid-Amurri bought for silver, but to which Ilu-bani laid claim on the ground that he had bred horses there. They went before the judges, and the judges took them to the gate of the goddess Nin-Martu (the mistress of the land of the Amorites), and to the judges of the gate of Nin-Martu Ilu-bani thus declared in the gate of Nin-Martu: I am indeed the son of Sin-magir; he adopted me as his son; the sealed documents (recording the fact) he never destroyed. Thus he declared, and under (king) Eri-Aku they adjudged the garden and house to Ilu-bani. Then came Sin-mubalidh and claimed the garden of Ilu-bani; so they went before the judges, and the judges (said): To us and the elders they have been taken, and must stand in the gate of the gods Merodach, Sussa, Sin, Khusa, and Nin-Martu the daughter of Merodach ... and the elders who have already appeared in the case of Naid-Amurri have heard Ilu-bani declare in the gate of Nin-Martu that “I am indeed the son (of Sin-magir)”; accordingly, they adjudged the garden and house to Ilu-bani. Sin-mubalidh cannot come again and make a claim. Oaths have been sworn by the names of Sin, Samas, Merodach, and king Khammu-rabi. Witnessed by Sin-imguranni the noble, Elilka-Sin, Abil-irzitim, Ubarrum, Zanbil-arad-Sin, Akhiya, Bel-dugul (?), Samas-bani the son of Abid-rakhas, Zanik-pisu, Izkur-Ea the major-domo, and Bau-ila. The seals of the witnesses (are attached). The 4th day of the month Tammuz, the year when Khammu-rabi the king offered prayers to Tasmit.’[[70]]
It is needless to quote other documents of a similar nature, unless it be to add that when a field or garden is sold, the palms and other trees planted in it are carefully specified. So they were also in the case of the field of Machpelah. Here, too, the transaction took place before the ‘elders’ of the city, at ‘the gate’ through which the people entered, and it was duly witnessed by ‘the children of Heth.’[[71]] The fact that ‘a stranger and a sojourner’ could thus acquire landed property and hand it down to his descendants was in strict accordance with Babylonian law. As the Canaanite in Babylonia could buy land and leave it to his children, so too the Babylonian in Canaan could do the same. Even the technical words used in recording the deed of sale are of Babylonian origin. The shekel is the Babylonian siqlu, and the Babylonian was the first who spoke of ‘weighing silver’ in the sense of ‘paying money.’[[72]] The statement that the shekels were ‘current with the merchant’ takes us back to those Babylonian ‘merchants’ who played so great a part in the early Babylonian world. It was for them that Dungi, king of Ur, long before the birth of Abraham, had fixed the monetary standard which remained in use down to the later days of the Chaldæan monarchy. He had determined by law the weight and value of the maneh, of which the sixtieth part was a shekel, and only those manehs and shekels which conformed to it could be accepted by the Babylonian trader. The words of Genesis are a curious indication of the period of society to which they must belong.[[73]]
There was evolution in Babylonian law as in the law of all other countries; and though the early contracts remained a model for those of a later epoch, their style and form underwent change. The Assyrian and later Babylonian contracts resemble them, it is true, in their main outlines; but they have become more complicated, and the older phraseology is altered in many respects. The ‘elders’ no longer appear as witnesses; it is no longer needful to try cases of disputed title at the various gates of the city; and it is questionable whether foreigners could claim the same rights in regard to possessions in land that they did in the days of Amraphel and Arioch. The sale of the field of Machpelah belongs essentially to the early Babylonian and not to the Assyrian period.
It is only fragments of the life of Abraham that are brought before us in the pages of Genesis. They are like a series of pictures which have been saved from the shipwreck of the past. And the pictures are not always painted in the same colours. At one time the patriarch appears as ‘a mighty prince,’ as a rich and cultured Chaldæan immigrant, with armed bands of warriors under him with whom he can venture to attack even the army of the king of Elam. He is the confederate of the Amorite chieftains, the prince whom the Hittites of Hebron hear with respect. But at another time the colours on the canvas seem quite different. When the angels warn the patriarch of the approaching overthrow of the cities of the plain, they find him in the tent of a Bedâwi, leading the simple life of an uncultured nomad, and preparing the food of his guests with his own hands. Between this Bedâwi shêkh and the companion of the king of Gerar or the Pharaoh of Egypt the contrast is indeed great.
To the Western mind, however, the contrast is greater than it would be to the Oriental. The traveller in the East is well acquainted with wealthy Bedâwin shêkhs who live in the desert in barbaric simplicity, but, nevertheless, have their houses at Cairo or Damascus, where they indulge in all the luxury and splendour of Oriental life. Moreover, the narratives which have been combined in the book of Genesis do not all come from the same source. Some of them have been taken from written historical documents which breathe the atmosphere of the cultured city, of the educated scribe, and the luxurious court. Others, derived it may be from oral tradition, are filled with the spirit of the wanderer in the desert, and set before us the simple life and rude fare of the dweller in tents. The history of the patriarchs is, in fact, like Joseph’s coat of many colours. It is a series of pictures rather than a homogeneous whole. The materials of which it is composed differ widely in both character and origin. Some of them can be shown to have been contemporaneous with the events they record; some again to have been like the tales of their old heroes recounted by the nomad Arabs in the days before Islam as they sat at night round their camp-fires. The details and spirit of the story have necessarily caught the colour of the medium through which they have passed. The life of Abraham, doubtless, presented the contrasts still presented by that of a rich Bedâwi shêkh; at one time spent in the wild freedom and privations of the desert; at another amid the luxuries and culture of the town; but the contrasts have been heightened by the difference in the sources through which they have been handed down. Naturally, while the scribe would record only those phases of Abraham’s history which brought him into contact with the great world of kings and princes, of war and trade, the nomad reciter of ancient stories would dwell rather on such parts of it as he and his hearers could understand. For them Abraham would become a desert-wanderer like themselves.
This difference in the sources of the narrative explains why it is that the figure of Abraham so largely overshadows that of his son Isaac. Isaac seems almost swallowed up in that darkness of antiquity through which the figure of his father looms so largely. Apart from his dispute with Abimelech of Gerar, which reads like a repetition of the dispute between Abimelech and Abraham, there is little told of the life of Isaac which is not connected with his more famous father or son. Between Abraham and Jacob, the great ancestors of Israel, Isaac seems to intervene as merely a connecting link.
But the life of Isaac was that of a Bedâwi shêkh. The other side of his father’s life and character was lost. The forefather of Israel had ceased to be a Chaldæan, and had become simply a dweller in the desert, like the fugitive slaves from Egypt in after days. Even Hebron was left, and the life of Isaac was mainly passed on the northern edge of that desert in which his descendants were in later times to receive the Law. If he approached Canaan, it was only to Beer-sheba and Gerar on the southern skirts of Canaanitish territory, where the Bedâwin and their flocks still claimed to be masters. But his chief residence was further south, in the very heart of the wilderness.
Isaac was thus essentially a Bedâwi, a fit type of the phase of life through which the Israelites were destined to pass before their conquest of the Promised Land. With the politics and trade of the civilised world, accordingly, he never came into contact. There was nothing in his existence for the historian to chronicle; nothing which could bring his name into the written history of the time. If his memory were to be preserved at all, it could be only through the unwritten traditions of the desert, through the tales told of him among the desert tribes.
Once indeed, it is said, he had relations with a king. The king was one of those Canaanitish princelets with whose names the Tel el-Amarna tablets are filled. The dominions of Abimelech of Gerar were of small extent, and must have been barren in the extreme. The site of Gerar lies two hours south of Gaza,[[74]] and the territory of its king extended eastward as far as Beer-sheba. It was essentially a desert territory: during the greater part of the year the whole country is bare and sterile; only after rain does the wilderness break forth suddenly into green herbage.
In the story of Isaac’s dispute with Abimelech the writer of Genesis calls him ‘king of the Philistines,’ and speaks of his subjects as ‘Philistines.’ This, however, is an accommodation to the geography of a later day. In the age of the patriarchs the south-eastern corner of Palestine has not as yet been occupied by the Philistine immigrants. We have learned from the Egyptian monuments that they were pirates from the islands and coasts of the Greek Seas who did not seize upon the frontier cities of Southern Canaan until the time of the Pharaoh Meneptah, the son of Ramses II. Up to then, for more than three centuries, the frontier cities had been garrisoned by Egyptian troops, and included in the Egyptian empire. It was not till the period of the Exodus that the district passed into Philistine hands, and the old road into Egypt by the sea-coast became known as ‘the way of the Philistines.’
In speaking of the ‘Philistines,’ therefore, the writer of the book of Genesis is speaking proleptically. And in reading the narrative of Isaac’s dealings with Abimelech by the side of that of Abraham’s dealings with the same king, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that we have before us two versions of the same event. Doubtless, history repeats itself; disputes about the possession of wells in a desert-land can frequently recur, and it is possible that two kings of the same name may have followed one another on the throne of Gerar. But what does not seem very possible is that each of these kings should have had a ‘chief captain of his host’ called by the strange non-Semitic name of Phichol (Gen. xxi. 22; xxvi. 26); that each of them should have taken the wife of the patriarch, believing her to be his sister; or that Beer-sheba should twice have received the same name from the oaths sworn over it.
When we compare the two versions together, it is not difficult to see which of them is the more original. It is in the second that Abimelech is called ‘king of the Philistines’; in the first he is correctly entitled ‘king of Gerar.’ Abraham was justified in calling Sarah his sister; there was no ground and no reason for Isaac doing the same in the case of his own wife. Moreover, Beer-sheba had already received its name from Abraham, who had planted there an êshel or tamarisk, and ‘called on the name of the Lord, the everlasting God.’
The wife of Isaac was brought from Harran, from the members of Abraham’s race who had settled in Northern Syria, and there become an Aramæan family. She was the daughter of Bethuel, ‘the house of God,’ a proper name which is found in the Tel el-Amarna letters, where it also belongs to a native of Northern Syria.[[75]] Bethuel is the older form of Bethel, that anointed stone which, according to Semitic belief, was the special residence of divinity. There was something peculiarly appropriate in such a name at Harran, where the great temple of the Moon-god, the ‘Baal of Harran,’ was itself a Beth-el on a large scale.
That Isaac should have lived all his life long in the southern desert, and that his name should have been associated with none of the ancient sanctuaries of Canaan, Beer-sheba alone excepted, is perhaps curious when we bear in mind a passage in the prophecies of Amos (vii. 9), where it is with Northern Israel and not with Judah that the name of the patriarch is connected. Isaac, however, was as much the forefather of the Israelites of Samaria as he was of those of Jerusalem; and the use of his name by the prophet shows only that he was no mere Jewish hero, but was regarded as an ancestor of the whole Israelitish nation. For the whole of Israel, Isaac was no less historical than Abraham or Jacob.
That Isaac’s dwelling-place should have been in the desert of the south agrees well with the fact that he was the father of Edom as well as of Israel. He thus lived on the borderland of the two peoples who afterwards boasted of their descent from him.
Esau, from whom the Edomites traced their origin, was the elder of his two twin sons. The name has been connected with that of the Phœnician deity Usous, but Usous is really the eponymous god of the city of Usu, in the neighbourhood of Tyre. Esau took possession of the mountains of Seir. Here he partly absorbed, partly destroyed the older races, the Amalekites or Bedâwin whose descendants still prowl among the wadis of Edom, and the Horites whom a somewhat doubtful etymology would turn into Troglodytes or dwellers in caves. Edom itself, the ‘Red’ land, took its name from the red hue of its cliffs. It was a name which went back to a remote antiquity, for among the Egyptians also the desert-country which stretched away eastward into Edom was known as Desher, ‘the Red.’ The punning etymology in Genesis (xxv. 30) preserves a recollection of the true origin of the name.
The territories of Esau extended southward to the head of the Gulf of Aqaba. Here were the towns of Elath and Eziongeber, through which the merchandise of the Indian Ocean was conveyed northward, enriching the merchants and princes of Edom in its passage through their land. To the north Edom was in touch with the peoples of Canaan. The wives of Esau, we are told, were ‘of the daughters of Canaan’ (Gen. xxxvi. 2); one of them at least was Hittite, and another, according to one account (Gen. xxvi. 34), bore the name of the ‘Jewess.’ But other wives were taken from the tribes of Arabia. Bashemath was the daughter of Ishmael and sister of a Nabathean chief, while Aholibamah was the daughter of a Horite who belonged to the primeval race of Seir.
Like the Ishmaelites, like the Israelites themselves, it was long before the Edomites submitted to the rule of a king. At first they were divided into tribes, each of them under a shêkh. In Israel the shêkhs were entitled ‘judges,’ a title borrowed from the Canaanite population; in Edom they bore the name of alûphim, which the Authorised Version renders by ‘dukes.’[[76]] The old name still survived down to the time of the Exodus, as we may gather from its use in the Song of Moses (Exod. xv. 15). But when the wanderings in the wilderness were almost over, and Israel was preparing to invade Palestine, the ‘dukes’ of Edom had already been superseded by kings. It was a ‘king of Edom’ to whom Moses sent messengers from Kadesh praying for a ‘passage through his border,’ and it was a king of Edom who refused the request. But the ancient spirit of independence still lingered; and, as we may gather from the extract from the Edomite chronicles preserved in Gen. xxxvi., the monarchy was elective. The son never succeeded the father on the throne, the royal dignity passed from one division of the kingdom to the other, and each city in turn became the capital.[[77]]
Though Esau was the elder, the birthright passed to the younger brother. Israelitish tradition knew of more than one occurrence which accounted for this. It was told how Esau had sold his birthright for a mess of pottage; it was also told how it had been stolen from him by the craft of his brother Jacob. Naturally, the first tradition was more favoured in Israel, the second in Edom, and the union of the two in the book of Genesis is a proof of the diligence with which the writer of it has gathered together all that was known of the past of his people as well as the impartiality with which he has used his materials. Perhaps both stories owed their preservation to the play upon words which was connected with them. The ‘red’ pottage served to explain the name of Edom, the craft of the younger son the name of Jacob.[[78]]
Upon the real origin of the latter name, however, recent discovery has thrown light. It is the third person singular of a verb, and is formed like numerous names of the same class in Arabic and Assyrian. But the third person singular of a verb implies a nominative, and the nominative was originally a divine name or title. In familiar use the nominative came to be dropped, and the shortened form of the name to be alone employed. The older form of the name Jacob has now been recovered from the monuments of Babylonia and Egypt. Among the Canaanites who appear as witnesses to Babylonian contracts of the age of Khammu-rabi, Mr. Pinches has found a Jacob-el and a Joseph-el, ‘God will recompense,’ ‘God will add.’[[79]] The same names, though written a little differently,[[80]] are met with in contracts earlier than the time of Moses, which have been discovered near Kaisariyeh, in Cappadocia, and are inscribed on clay tablets in cuneiform characters and in a Babylonian dialect. We can thus trace them from the primitive home of Abraham to the neighbourhood of that Aramæan district of Northern Mesopotamia in which his father settled.
But this is not all. Among the places in Palestine conquered by Thothmes III. of the eighteenth Egyptian dynasty, and recorded on the walls of his temple at Karnak, we find a Jacob-el and a Joseph-el. In Canaan, therefore, the names were already current; it may even be that in the town of Jacob-el we have a reminiscence of the patriarch, in Joseph-el a connection with the ancestor of the ‘House of Joseph.’ At all events, the name of Joseph-el follows immediately after that of the ‘Har’ or ‘Mountain’ of Ephraim, while that of Jacob-el is placed in the neighbourhood of Hebron.[[81]]
The name of Jacob-el can be carried still further back than the age of Thothmes III., further back probably than the age of the patriarch himself. There are Egyptian scarabs which bear the name of a Pharaoh called Jacob-el. The first part of the name is written just as it would be in Hebrew, and the Pharaoh is given all the titles of a legitimate Egyptian king. On one he is ‘the good God,’ on another ‘the son of the Sun,’ and ‘the giver of life.’ The scarabs belong to the period of the Hyksos, and in the Pharaoh Jacob-el we must accordingly see one of those Hyksos conquerors from Asia who ruled over Egypt for so many centuries. There was thus a Jacob in Egypt before the patriarch migrated there, and he belonged to that Hyksos race under whom Joseph rose to the highest honours of the state.[[82]]
The shortened form of the name is also found in the Babylonian texts; and it is probable that Egibi, the founder of the great banking and trading firm which carried on business in Babylonia down to the time of the Persian kings, had a name which is identical with it. At any rate the older forms of both ‘Jacob’ and ‘Joseph’ show that ‘Isaac’ too must be an abbreviation from an earlier ‘Isaac-el’ (Yitskhaq-êl). ‘God smileth’ would have been the primitive signification of the word.
The craft of Jacob was the cause of his flight to his mother’s family in Padan-Aram. He thus became that ‘wandering Aramæan’ of whom we read in Deuteronomy (xxvi. 5). On his way he rested at the great Beth-el of Central Palestine, and there in a vision beheld the angels of God ascending and descending the steps of limestone that were piled one upon the other to the gates of heaven.[[83]] There, too, he poured oil upon the sacred stone and consecrated it to the deity, and future generations revered it as a veritable Beth-el or ‘House of God.’
The name, in fact, we are told, was given to it by Jacob himself. ‘If I come again to my father’s house in peace,’ he said, ‘then shall Yahveh be my God: and this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.’ The vow was in accordance with a Canaanitish custom which had originally come from Babylonia. From time immemorial the Babylonian temples had been supported by the tenth or tithe, which was levied on both king and people: it was not thought that the gods were asking too much when they demanded the tenth of the income which had been given to man by themselves. Among the Babylonian contract-tablets there are several which relate to the payment of the tithe as well as to the gifts that were made to a Bit-ili or Beth-el.[[84]]
Jacob’s vow was performed, at least in part, when once more he returned to Canaan. Then again ‘God appeared to him’ and changed the patriarch’s name. Then again, too, ‘he set up a pillar of stone; and he poured a drink-offering thereon, and he poured oil thereon. And Jacob called the name of the place where God spake with him Beth-el.’ This second account of the naming of the place doubtless comes from a different source from that which recorded Jacob’s dream, and is the account which was known to Hosea, the prophet of the northern kingdom. Modern critics have alleged that it is inconsistent with the first, and that consequently neither the one nor the other is historical. The compiler of the book of Genesis, however, thought otherwise; he has made no attempt to smooth over what the European scholar declares to be inconsistencies, and which therefore cannot have seemed inconsistencies to him. The Oriental mode of writing history, it must once more be remarked, is not the same as ours; and as it is with the ancient East that we are now concerned, it would be wiser to follow the judgment of the writer of Genesis than that of his European critics.
At Harran Jacob served his cousin Laban ‘for a wife, and for a wife he kept sheep.’ Such contracts of voluntary service are to be found in the Babylonian tablets of the age of Khammu-rabi and his predecessors. It was not at all unusual for a slave to be hired out to another master for a definite period of time; it sometimes happened that the master himself hired out his own services in a similar way.[[85]] In Babylonia the work was partly pastoral, partly agricultural; the semi-Bedâwi Jacob was a herdsman only. His cousin Laban bore a name which was also that of an Assyrian deity; and it may not be a mere coincidence that when Nabonidos, the last king of Babylonia, restored the great temple of the moon-god at Harran, he tells us that he began the task ‘by the art of the god Laban, the god of foundations and brickwork.’[[86]]
The two daughters of Laban bore names which had a familiar sound to the ear of a herdsman. Rachel means ‘ewe’; Leah is the Assyrian li’tu, ‘a cow.’ It is needless to recount the well-known story of the wooing of the younger daughter, and of the efforts made by Laban to retain Jacob in his service and marry both the sisters to him. Craft was met by craft; but in the end the ancestor of Israel proved more than a match for the wily Syrian. His cattle and riches multiplied like the children who were born to him, and a time came when the sons of Laban began to view with envy the poor relative who was robbing them of their patrimony. So Jacob fled, before harm had come to him, carrying with him his wives and children and all the wealth he had accumulated. Laban pursued and succeeded in overtaking the heavily-weighted caravan at the very spot where the frontiers of Aram and Canaan met together. There the cairn of stones was raised in which later generations saw a memorial of the pact that had been sworn between Jacob and his father-in-law. Henceforth the tie with Aram was broken: the wives of Jacob forgot the home of their father and looked to Canaan instead of Aram as the native land of their race. Over the cairn of Gilead the forefathers of Israel forswore for ever their Aramæan ties.
But Rachel had carried with her her father’s teraphim, those household gods on whose cult the welfare of the family seemed to depend. What they were like we may gather from the teraphim of David, which Michal placed on the couch of her husband, and so deceived the messengers of Saul (1 Sam. xix. 13-16). They must have had the shape of a man, and, at all events in the case of those of David, must have also been about a man’s size. Like the ephod and the Urim and Thummim, they were consulted as oracles (Zech. x. 2), and their use lingered among the Jews as late as the period of the Captivity. When Hosea depicts the coming desolation of Israel, he describes it as a time when ‘the children of Israel shall abide many days without a king, and without a prince, and without a sacrifice, and without a sacred pillar, and without an ephod and teraphim’ (Hos. iii. 4).
The final break between Jacob and the Aramæan portion of Terah’s family was marked by a change of name. From henceforth Jacob was to be distinctively the father of the children of Israel. He and his descendants were severed from the rest of their kinsmen whether in Padan-Aram, in Edom, or in the lands beyond the Jordan. Abraham had been the ‘father of many nations’; Jacob was to be the father of but one—of that chosen people to whom the character and worship of Yahveh were revealed.
We read of him in Hosea (xii. 3, 4), ‘By his strength he had power with God: yea, he had power over the angel, and prevailed.’ What the Authorised Version translates ‘had power’ is sârâh and yâsar in Hebrew. The story of the mysterious struggle is told in full in the book of Genesis. The long caravan of Jacob had arrived at length at Mahanaim, ‘the two camps’ by the stream of the Jabbok, and from thence he sent messengers to his brother, who had already established his power in the mountains of Seir. In after days the name of the place was connected with the strange occurrence that there befel the patriarch. He was visited by the angels of God, nay, by God Himself. In the visions of the night he wrestled with one whom, when morning dawned, he believed to have been his God. He had seen God, as it were, face to face, and a popular etymology saw in the fact an explanation of the name of Peniel. When Hosea wrote his prophecies, the belief was too well established that man cannot ‘see God’s face and live,’ and the angel of God accordingly takes the place of God Himself. But when the narrative in Genesis was composed, a more primitive conception of the Divine nature still prevailed, and no reluctance was felt in stating exactly what the patriarch himself had believed. It was God with whom he had struggled, and from whom he had extorted a blessing, and a memory of the conflict and victory was preserved in the name of Israel, which Jacob henceforth bore.
The etymology, however, is really only one of those plays upon words of which the Biblical writers, like Oriental writers generally, are so fond. It has no scientific value, and never was intended to have any. Israel is, like Edom, not the name of an individual, but of the people of whom the individual was the ancestor. The name is formed like that of Jacob-el, and the abbreviated Jeshurun is used instead of it in the Song of Moses.[[87]] If the latter is correct, the root will not be sârâh, ‘he fought,’ or yâsar, ‘he is king,’ but yâshar, ‘to be upright,’ ‘to direct’; and Israel will signify ‘God has directed.’ Israel, in fact, will be the ‘righteous’ people who have been called to walk in the ways of the Lord.
While Jacob was keeping the sheep of his Aramæan father-in-law, Esau was making a name for himself among the mountains of the Horites. Half robber, half huntsman, he had gathered about him a band of followers, and with their help had founded—if not a kingdom—at all events a nation to the south of Moab. It is true that the ‘red’ land he had occupied was rocky and barren, but the high-road of commerce from the spice-bearing regions of Southern Arabia passed through it, and the plunder or tribute of the merchants who travelled along it brought wealth to him and his well-armed Bedâwin. What David did in later days, when he made himself the head of a band of outlaws, and with their assistance eventually raised himself to the throne of Judah, had already been accomplished by Esau among the barbarians of Seir.
The message of Jacob led him northward by the desert road which ran to the east of Moab and Ammon. It is clear from the story that Jacob knew little about his brother’s power. When news was brought that he was coming with a troop of four hundred men, Jacob’s heart sank within him, and his only thought was how to save himself and at least a portion of his wealth from the powerful robber-chief. The event proved that his precautions were needless. Esau behaved with a magnanimity which it must have been hard for a Hebrew writer to describe, and pressed his brother to accompany him to Seir. Jacob feared to accept the invitation, and equally feared to refuse it. With characteristic caution and craft, he promised to come, but urged that the cattle and children that were with him made it necessary to follow slowly in Esau’s track. So the Edomite chieftain departed, and Jacob took good care to turn westward across the Jordan into the land of Canaan. There, among the cities and fields of the civilised ‘Amorite,’ he felt himself secure from the pursuit of the desert tribes.
Was it fear of Esau which kept him in Central Palestine and prevented him so long from venturing near that southern part of the country where his father and grandfather had mainly dwelt? At all events, while Abraham had bought land at Hebron, the land purchased by Jacob was near Shechem. Moreover, it was the ‘parcel of a field where he had spread his tent,’ not a burying-place for his family. It would seem, therefore, that it was intended for a permanent residence; here the patriarch determined to settle and to exchange the free life of the pastoral nomad for that of a villager of Canaan.[[88]]
The field was bought from Hamor the father of Shechem, the founder of the city which was destined to become the seat of the first monarchy in Israel, and on it was raised the first altar consecrated to the God of Israel. El-elohê-Israel, ‘El is the God of Israel,’ the altar was termed, a declaration that the El whom the Canaanites worshipped was the God of Israel as well. But though the field was bought for one hundred ‘pieces of money’—an expression, be it noted, which is not Babylonian—we are assured also that Jacob had gained land at Shechem by the right of conquest. In blessing Joseph he declared to him that to the tribe of his favourite son there was given ‘a Shechem above’ his ‘brethren which’ he had taken ‘out of the hand of the Amorite with’ his ‘sword and bow’ (Gen. xlviii. 22); and the story of the ravishment of Dinah recounts how the sons of the patriarch massacred the men of the city, how they enslaved their women and carried away their goods. The terrible tale of vengeance was never forgotten; it is alluded to in the Blessing of Jacob (Gen. xlix. 5-7), and the disappearance of Simeon and Levi as separate tribes was looked upon as a punishment for the deed. It would seem that after the Israelitish conquest of Canaan the population of Shechem remained half Canaanite, half Israelite,[[89]] and the Canaanitish population would naturally remember with horror and indignation the crime of the sons of Jacob. That the deed should have been attributed to the ancestors of two of the southern tribes instead of to those of Issachar or some other tribe of the north is evidence in favour of its truthfulness.
The sons of Jacob were twelve in number, like the twelve sons of Ishmael, and corresponded with the twelve tribes of Israel which were called after their names. And yet the correspondence required a little forcing. It is questionable whether, at any one time, there ever were exactly twelve Israelitish tribes. In the Song of Deborah Judah does not appear at all, Ephraim taking its place and, along with Benjamin, extending as far south as the desert of the Amalekites, while Machir is substituted for Manasseh and Gad. Levi never possessed a territory of its own; had it done so, the tribes would have been thirteen in number and not twelve. At the same time, it had just as much right to be considered a separate tribe as Dan, whose cities were in the north as well as in the south, where, however, they were absorbed by Judah; more right perhaps than Simeon, which hardly existed except in name. The territory of Reuben lay outside the boundaries of Palestine, and was merely the desert-wadis and grazing-grounds of the kingdom of Moab; the country can be said to have belonged to the tribe only in the sense that the wadis east of the Delta belong to the Bedâwin, whom the Egyptian government at present allows to live in them. Manasseh, lastly, was divided into two halves, in order to bring the number of tribes up to the requisite figure.
It is clear that the scheme is an artificial one. Israel, after its conquest of Canaan, could indeed be divided into twelve separate parts, but such a division was theoretical only. There were no twelve territories corresponding to the parts, while the parts themselves could be reckoned as thirteen, eleven, or ten, just as easily as twelve.
The conclusion to be drawn from this is obvious. History credited Jacob with twelve sons, and it was consequently necessary to bring the number of Israelitish tribes into harmony with the fact. Modern criticism has amused itself with reversing the history, and assuming that the twelve sons of the patriarch owed their origin to the twelve tribes. It has accordingly drawn inferences from the fact that some of the sons of Jacob are said to have been the offspring of concubines, and not of his two legitimate wives, and that Joseph and Benjamin were the youngest of all. But such inferences fall with the assumption that in the twelve sons we have merely the eponymous heroes of the twelve tribes. It is a cheap way of making history, and, after all, what we know of the tribes does not fit in with the theory. There is nothing in the history of Dan and Naphtali, or Gad and Asher, which would have caused them to be regarded of bastard descent, if that bastard descent had not been a fact; indeed, in the Song of Deborah, which is almost universally allowed to go back to the early age of the Judges, Naphtali and Zebulun are placed on exactly the same footing. The distinction between the sons of Leah and those of Rachel does not answer to the real cleavage between the tribes of the south and those of the north of Palestine: Benjamin, after the age of Saul, followed Judah and Simeon, while the sons of Joseph were joined with Zebulun and Issachar. Moreover, had the sons of Jacob been mere reflections of the tribes, it would be difficult to account for the existence of Joseph, or to understand why Machir takes the place of Manasseh and Gad in the Song of Deborah.
The critical theory is the result of introducing Greek modes of thought into Semitic history. The Greek tribe, it is true, traced its origin to an eponymous ancestor, but that ancestor was a god or a hero, and not a man. Among the Semites, however, as the history of Arabia may still teach us, the conception of the tribe was something wholly different. The tribe was an enlarged family which called itself by the name of its first head. It began with the individual, and to the last styled itself his children. The Greek tribe, on the contrary, began with the clan, and its theoretical ancestor, accordingly, was merely the divine personage whose common cult kept it together. In the Semitic tribe there could be no cult of its ancestor, for the ancestor was but an ordinary man, who worshipped the same form of Baal and used the same rites as his descendants after him.
Nevertheless, there may be an element of truth in the ‘critical’ assumption. The names of the ancestors of some of the Israelitish tribes may have been the reflex of the later names of the tribes themselves. It does not follow that the name by which one of the sons of Jacob became known to later generations was actually the name which he bore himself. Had Jacob been uniformly called Israel by the Hebrew writers, we should never have known his original name. And it is possible that the name of Asher is really a reflex of this kind. The Travels of the Mohar, written in Egypt in the reign of Ramses II. before the Israelitish conquest of Canaan, speak of ‘the mountain of User’ as being in the very locality in which the tribe of Asher was afterwards settled. And in the case of one tribe at least there is evidence that its name must have been reflected back upon that of its progenitor.
This is the tribe of Benjamin. In the book of Genesis (xxxv. 18) Benjamin is represented as having received two different names at his birth. The statement excites our suspicion, for such a double naming is inconsistent with Hebrew practice, and our suspicion is confirmed when we find that both names have a geographical meaning. Benjamin is ‘the son of the South’ or ‘Southerner’; Ben-Oni, as he is also said to have been called, is ‘the son of On,’ or ‘the Onite.’ On, or Beth-On, it will be remembered, was an ancient name of Beth-el, the great sanctuary and centre of the tribe of Benjamin, while ‘the Southerner’ was an appropriate title for the lesser brother tribe which lay to the south of the dominant Ephraim. It is of Ephraim that Deborah says, in her Song of Triumph, ‘Behind thee is Benjamin among thy peoples’ (Judg. v. 14).
The etymology suggested in Genesis for the name of Ben-Oni is a sample of those plays upon words in which Oriental writers have always delighted, and of which the Hebrew Scriptures contain so many illustrations. They all spring from the old confusion between the name and the thing, which substituted the name for the thing, and believed that if the name could be explained, the thing would be explained also. Hence the slight transformations in the form of names which allowed them to be assimilated to familiar words, or their identification with words which obviously gave an incorrect sense. Hence, too, the choice of etymologies which was offered to the reader: where the real origin of the name was unknown or uncertain, it was possible to explain it in more than one way. Isaiah (xv. 9) changes the name of the Moabite city of Dibon into Dimon in order to connect it with the Hebrew dâm, ‘blood,’ and the writer of Genesis gives two contradictory derivations of the name of Joseph (Gen. xxx. 23, 24). The latter fact is of itself a sufficient proof of the true value of these etymologies, or rather, popular plays upon words, and the sayings in which they are embodied can still be matched by the traveller in the East. Similar embodiments of popular etymologising are still repeated to explain the place-names of Egypt.[[90]]
The origin of some of the names of the sons of Jacob is as obscure to us as it was to the writer of Genesis. We do not know, for instance, the meaning and derivation of the name of Reuben. Equally doubtful is the real etymology of the name of Issachar.[[91]] The name of Simeon is already found among the places in Canaan conquered by the Egyptian Pharaoh Thothmes III. before the age of Moses, and in Judah we have a name which seems to be the same as that of a tribe in Northern Syria.[[92]] Levi, like Naphtali, is a gentilic noun, and must be connected with the lau’â(n), or ‘priest’ of Southern Arabia.[[93]] Gad was the god of good fortune, Dan ‘the judge,’ the title of certain Babylonian deities, and Dinah is the feminine corresponding to Dan.
Jacob, ever timorous, fled from Hivite vengeance after the destruction of Shechem, forsaking the property he had acquired there by purchase and the sword. He made his way southward to Beth-el, and there rested on the edge of the great mountain block of Central Palestine. Hard by was the city of Luz, soon to be eclipsed by the growing fame of the high-place on the height above it. Here, at Beth-el, an altar was erected by the patriarch to the God of the locality who had once appeared to him in a dream. It was the prototype of the altar that was hereafter to arise there when Beth-el had become a chief sanctuary of the house of Israel. Whether the altar stood on the high-place on the summit of the mountain, where the Beth-el or column of stone had been consecrated by Jacob, we do not know; there are indications in the prophets, however, that the high-place and the temple were separate from one another. Indeed, from the words of Genesis, it would seem that the altar and future temple were on the lower slope of the hill, close to the old Canaanitish town. Here, at any rate, on the road to the city, was that Allon-bachuth, that ‘Terebinth of Tears,’ which is referred to by Hosea (xii. 4), and is connected in the book of Genesis with the death of Deborah, the nurse of Rachel. In later days another Deborah dwelt under the shadow of a palm-tree on the same road (Judg. iv. 6), and modern critical ingenuity has accordingly discovered that the terebinth and the palm were one and the same tree.
Beth-el, however, was still too near the Hivites of Shechem, and Jacob continued his journey to the south. The death of Isaac called him to Hebron, where, for the last time, he met his brother Esau, who came to take part in his father’s burial. But his own residence was at Beth-lehem, ‘the Temple of the god Lakhmu,’ called Ephrath in those early days.[[94]] Here Rachel died, and here accordingly was raised the tombstone which marked her grave down to the day when the book of Genesis assumed its present form.[[95]]
It was ‘beyond the tower of Edar,’ the tower of ‘the Flock,’ that Jacob, we are told, ‘spread his tent.’ The tower of the Flock guarded the city-fortress of Jerusalem (Mic. iv. 8), and it was therefore between Jerusalem and Beth-lehem that the patriarch made his home. But his flocks were scattered northwards as far as Shechem, grazing on the mountain slopes under the charge of his sons. Jacob remained like a Bedâwi of to-day living among the settled inhabitants of the country, and yet keeping apart from them and sending his flocks far and wide wherever there was fresh grass and free pasturage.
It was while he thus lived that the disgraceful events occurred connected with the marriage of Judah and the Canaanitish Tamar, which throw an evil light on the manners and morals of the patriarch’s family. The whole episode stands in marked contrast to the ordinary character of the history, and its insertion is evidence of the impartiality of the writer. It is clear that he has put together all that reached him from the past history of his people, omitting nothing, modifying nothing. All sides of the past are brought before us, the darker as well as the lighter, and no attempt is made to spare or condone the forefathers of Israel. It has indeed been asked by an over-sensitive criticism how the recital of such abominations can be consistent with the sanctity claimed for the Mosaic writings. But the question has troubled the minds only of the critics themselves; and not more than three centuries ago the compilers of the Anglican lectionary saw no harm in ordering the chapter to be read publicly to men and maidens in church.
The episode was inserted in the midst of the story of Joseph, one of the most pathetic and touching ever told. We need not repeat its details, or describe how Joseph, the spoilt darling of his father, dreamed dreams which aroused the alarm and jealousy of his brothers, how he was sold by them into Egypt, how there he became the vizier of the Pharaoh, and how eventually Jacob and his family were brought into the land of Goshen, there to enjoy the good things of the valley of the Nile. But the story brings us back again to the great stream of ancient Oriental history; once more the history of Israel touches the history of the world, and ceases to be a series of idyllic pictures, such as the memory of shepherds and Bedâwin might alone preserve.
The story of Joseph forms a complete whole, distinguished by certain features that mark it off from the rest of the book of Genesis. It contains peculiar words, some of them of Egyptian origin,[[96]] and it shows a very minute acquaintance with Egyptian life in the Hyksos age. There are even words and phrases which seem to have been translated into Hebrew from some other language, and the meaning of which has not been fully understood: thus it is said that the cupbearer of Pharaoh ‘pressed the grapes’ into his master’s goblet instead of pouring the wine; and the word employed to denote an Egyptian official, and translated ‘officer’ in the Authorised Version, properly signifies ‘eunuch.’ Can the story have been translated from an Egyptian papyrus? The question is suggested by the fact that one of the most characteristic portions of it has actually been embodied in an ancient Egyptian tale. This is the so-called Tale of the Two Brothers, written by the scribe Enna for Seti II. of the nineteenth dynasty while he was crown-prince, and therefore in the age of the Exodus. Here we have the episode of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife told in Egyptian form. The fellah Bata takes the place of Joseph; his sister-in-law plays the part of Potiphar’s wife.[[97]]
This part of the story was therefore known among the literary classes of Egypt in the days when Moses was learned in all their wisdom. And if it has been preserved among the few fragments that have been saved from the wreck of ancient Egyptian literature, may we not conclude that had the whole of that literature come down to us, other portions of the story of Joseph would have been preserved in it as well? There is a gentleness in the character of Joseph which reminds us forcibly of Egyptian manners, and offers a sharp contrast to the rough ways and readiness to shed blood which distinguished the Hebrew Semite.
At all events, the story must have been written by one who was well acquainted with the age of the Hyksos. It is true that an attempt has recently been made, on the strength of certain proper names, to show that it is not the Egypt of the Hyksos that is described, but the Egypt of Shishak and his successors. The names of Potipherah or Potiphar and Asenath are said to have been unknown before that date. A couple of proper names, however, is an insecure foundation on which to build a theory, more especially when the argument rests upon the imperfections of our own knowledge. That no names corresponding in formation to Potipherah and Asenath should as yet have been met with earlier than the time of Shishak is no proof that they did not exist. A single example of each is sufficient to prove the contrary. And, as a matter of fact, such examples actually occur. A stela of the reign of Thothmes III. records the name of Pe-tu-Baal, ‘the Gift of Baal,’ as that of the sixth ancestor of the Egyptian whose name it records;[[98]] while the Tel el-Amarna tablets contain the name of Subanda, the Smendes of Greek writers, which is an exact parallel in form to Asenath.[[99]] Pe-tu-Baal must have lived at the close of the Hyksos period, and the Semitic deity with whose name his own is compounded indicates that it has been formed under Semitic influence. It was, in fact, as we learn from the Phœnician inscriptions, an imitation of a Canaanitish name.[[100]] The Hyksos had come from Asia, and had imposed their yoke upon Egypt, where they ruled for more than five hundred years. Though they held all Egypt under their sway, they had established their capital at Zoan, now called Sân, far to the north on the eastern frontier of the Delta. Here they were near their kinsfolk in Canaan, and could readily summon fresh troops from Asia in case of Egyptian revolt.
The court of the Hyksos Pharaohs, however, soon became Egyptianised. They adopted the arts and science, the manners and customs, of their more cultured subjects, and one of the few scientific works of ancient Egypt that have come down to us—the famous Mathematical Papyrus—was written for a Hyksos king. It was only in physiognomy and religion that the Hyksos conqueror continued to be distinguished from the native Egyptian.
Besides Zoan, Heliopolis, or ‘On of the North,’ was a chief centre of Hyksos power. It was the oldest and most celebrated sanctuary of Egypt, where ancient schools of learning were established, and from whence the religious system had been disseminated which made the Sun-god the supreme ruler of the universe. The Hyksos had no difficulty in identifying the Sun-god of On with their own supreme deity Sutekh, who was a form of the Canaanitish Baal. On, consequently, once the chief seat of the orthodox faith of Egypt, became the centre of foreign heresy. The Sallier Papyrus, which describes the origin of the war that resulted in the expulsion of the Hyksos, specially tells us that ‘the Impure of (On), the city of Ra, were subject to Ra-Apopi,’ the Hyksos Pharaoh, and the Egyptians changed into Ra, the Egyptian Sun-god, the name of Sutekh, which a scarab of Apopi shows was really prefixed to that Pharaoh’s name.[[101]] The great temple of the Sun-god of On, accordingly, before which Usertesen of the twelfth dynasty had planted the obelisks, one of which remains to this day, was transformed into a temple of the foreign god; and though its high-priest still continued to bear his ancient title, and perform the ceremonies of the past, it was Sutekh and not the native divinity whom he served. Potipherah—in Egyptian, Pa-tu-pa-Ra—was a literal translation of the Canaanitish Mattan-Baal, ‘the gift of Baal,’ and implied of itself the foreign cult.
Potiphar is an abbreviation of Potipherah, and reminds us of similar abbreviations met with in the letters of the Canaanitish correspondents of the Pharaoh in the Tel el-Amarna collection. It is an abbreviation which points to long familiarity with the name on the part of the Hebrew people. The titles, however, given to Potiphar are obscure. The second seems to signify ‘captain of the bodyguard,’ but the first—saris in Hebrew—means an ‘eunuch.’ Ebers, it is true, has pointed out that eunuchs in the East have not only held high positions of state, but have married wives as well;[[102]] this, however, has been in Turkey, not in ancient Egypt. Perhaps the word is the Babylonian saris, ‘an officer’; at all events, the Rab-sarîs of 2 Kings xviii. 17 is the Assyrian Rab-sarisi, or ‘chief officer.’ That Babylonian words should have made their way into Egypt in the age of the Hyksos is by no means strange. We have learned from the Tel el-Amarna tablets that Babylonian was for centuries the literary language of Western Asia, and was studied and written even on the banks of the Nile, while the monuments of Babylonia itself have shown that Babylonian culture had made its way to the frontiers of Egypt at a very remote age. The history of Joseph contains at least one word which bears testimony to its influence. When Joseph was made ‘governor over all the land of Egypt,’ the heralds who ran before his chariot to announce the fact shouted the word ‘abrêk!’ For this word no explanation can be found either in Hebrew or in Egyptian. But the language of the Babylonian inscriptions has unexpectedly come to our aid. In Chaldæa abarakku was the title of one of the highest officers of State, and abriqqu, borrowed from the earlier Sumerian abrik, signified ‘a seer.’
We have said that the history of Joseph is marvellously true in all its details to what archæology has informed us were the facts of Egyptian life. Thus the prison in which ‘the king’s prisoners’ were confined is called by the strange name of ‘the round house.’ Such, at least, would seem to be the literal meaning of the Hebrew phrase, the second element of which signifies ‘roundness.’ The word is written sohar, though there is evidence of another reading, sokhar. Sohar or sokhar, however, is really an Egyptian word. The royal prison at Thebes, where the State prisoners were kept under guard, was: called suhan, in which we have the same interchange of final r and n that is still a characteristic of Egyptian Arabic.[[103]] The term bêth has-sohar, ‘the house of the Sohar,’ is found nowhere else in the Old Testament: it is, in fact, one of the peculiarities which distinguish the story of Joseph, and at the same time testify to the acquaintance of its writer with the details of Egyptian life.
The titles of the royal cupbearer and the chief of the bakers have been found in the lists of Egyptian officials; the Pharaoh’s kitchen was organised on an elaborate scale;[[104]] and the Egyptians were famed for their skill in confectionery and in making various kinds of bread.[[105]] On the monuments we may see depicted the cupbearer offering the goblet of wine, and the baker carrying on his head the baskets filled with round ‘white loaves.’ The ‘birthday of the Pharaoh’ was a general festival, on which, as the decrees of Rosetta and Canopus have taught us, the sovereign proclaimed an amnesty and released such prisoners as were thought deserving of pardon.[[106]] The dreams that Pharaoh dreamed are in full accordance with Egyptian mythology and symbolism. The seven kine fitly represent the Nile, which from time immemorial had been likened to a milch-cow. The cow-headed goddess Hathor or Isis watched over the fertility of the country, and the fertilising water of the river was called the milk that flowed from her breasts. The number seven denotes the ‘seven great Hathors,’ the seven forms under which the goddess was adored. The dreams themselves fall in with the Egyptian belief of the age. Throughout Egyptian history they have been a power not only in religion, but in politics as well. It was in consequence of a dream that Thothmes IV. cleared away the sand from before the paws of the Sphinx, and a thousand years later Nut-Amon of Ethiopia was summoned by a dream to invade Egypt. The dreams usually needed an interpreter to explain them, such as is mentioned in a Greek inscription from the Serapeum at Memphis. Books, however, had been compiled in which the signification of dreams was reduced to a science; and as in modern Egypt, so yet more in the past, men spent their lives in pondering over the signification of the dreams of the night.[[107]]
Even the statement that the east wind had blasted the ears of corn (Gen. xli. 6) betrays an acquaintance with the peculiarities of the Egyptian climate. Those who have sailed up the Nile know that the wind feared alike by the peasant and the sailor is that which blows from the south-east; while the crops of spring are matured by the northern breeze, they are parched and destroyed by the evil wind from the south-east.
The golden collar placed around the neck of the royal favourite is equally characteristic of Egyptian customs, at all events in the age of the Hyksos and the eighteenth dynasty. ‘Captain’ Ahmes, whose tomb is at El-Kab, and who took a prominent part in the final struggle which drove the Hyksos strangers out of the Delta, describes the rewards bestowed upon him by the Pharaoh for his deeds of valour, and chief among the rewards are the chains of gold. Before Joseph was allowed to enter the presence of the monarch, he was not only clad in new raiment, but shorn as well. This, too, was in accordance with Egyptian custom. None could appear before Pharaoh unless they had been freshly shaven, and in the eyes of the Egyptian not the least part of the ‘impurity’ of the Asiatic Semite was his habit of growing a beard.[[108]]
The change of name, moreover, which marked Joseph’s elevation was again characteristic of Egypt. The monuments have told us of other cases in which an Asiatic from Canaan, or a Karian from Asia Minor, became an Egyptian official, and in so doing was required to adopt an Egyptian name.[[109]] That the name of Zaphnath-paaneah is of Egyptian origin has long been recognised, and that it contains the Egyptian pa-ânkh, ‘life’ or ‘the living one,’ is clear. It is only over its first elements that discussion is possible.
It is hardly necessary to notice further points which prove how intimately the writer of the history of Joseph was acquainted with Egyptian life and manners, language and soil. The Egyptians, he notes, could not eat together with the Hebrews, for that would have been ‘an abomination’ to them. It would, indeed, have defiled them ceremonially, and have caused them to participate in the impurity of those whom they termed ‘the unclean.’ So, too, we read, ‘every shepherd is an abomination to the Egyptians,’ not indeed, as has been imagined, because Egypt had been conquered by the ‘Shepherd’ kings, but because the flocks of the Delta were tended partly by Bedâwin, partly by half-caste Egyptians, whose unclean habits and unshorn faces were the butt of the literary world. The ‘marshmen,’ as they were contemptuously called, were looked upon as pariahs.[[110]]
While, however, the narrative is thus thoroughly Egyptian in character, the Egypt it brings before us is the Egypt of the age of the Hyksos. Chariots and horses have already been introduced. It has been supposed that the horse came with the Hyksos; at all events, there is no trace of it before the conquest of the country by the Asiatic stranger. The Pharaoh, moreover, holds his court in the Delta, not far from the Canaanitish border and the land of Goshen; and the waggons which carried Jacob and his family travelled easily from Beth-lehem to the Egyptian capital. Zoan consequently must still have been the residence of the Pharaoh; and Thebes, in Upper Egypt, had not as yet taken its place.
There is one fact, furthermore, which stands out prominently in the history of Joseph, and points unmistakably to the Hyksos age. We are told that it was his policy which reduced the people of Egypt to the condition of serfs. Pressed by famine, they were compelled by him to sell their lands for corn, and to receive it again as tenants of the Pharaoh, with the obligation of paying him a fifth part of the produce. The priests, or rather, the temples, were alone allowed to retain their old possessions; henceforward the land of Egypt was shared between them and the king. In the language of modern Egypt, it became either Government property or waqf.
Now, this fact corresponds with a change in the tenure of land which the monuments have informed us must have taken place under the dominion of the Hyksos dynasties. When Egypt was conquered by the Asiatics, it was divided among a number of feudal families who were landowners on a large scale, and at times the rivals of the sovereign himself. By the side of this higher aristocracy there was also a lower one, answering in some measure to the yeomen farmers of the northern counties, but equally owners of land. When, however, the Hyksos were finally driven out, a new Egypt comes into view. The feudal aristocracy has disappeared—or almost disappeared—along with the other landowners of the country, and the only proprietors of land that are left are the Pharaoh and the priests, to whom in after times the military caste was added. Only in Southern Egypt, where the struggle against the foreigner first began, do we find instances of private ownership of land, and this, too, only in the earlier years of the eighteenth dynasty. Before long the Pharaoh had absorbed into his own hands all the land that had not been given to the gods; the old nobility had disappeared, and their place been taken by an army of officials who derived all their wealth and power from the king. The Pharaoh, the priests, and the bureaucracy henceforth are the rulers of Egypt.
This momentous change must have had a cause, but we look in vain for such a cause in the Egyptian monuments. It has been suggested that the War of Independence may have brought it about by increasing the power of the king as leader in the struggle.[[111]] But this would not explain his absorption of the land; and even if all the older families had perished in the war, which is not very probable, the lesser landowners would have remained. Moreover, the generals of the king would in this case have claimed similar spoils to those of their leader. What their commander had seized would have been seized also by the officers under him.
However great may be our reluctance to accept the explanation offered by the story of Joseph, certain it is that it is the only adequate explanation forthcoming. And there is one strong argument in its favour. Under Ahmes, the conqueror of the Hyksos and the founder of the eighteenth dynasty, there are still instances of land being held by private individuals. But this was at El-Kab, in Upper Egypt, where the Hyksos rule had long been nominal rather than real, and where it had not been obeyed at all for three generations previously.[[112]] As soon as the eighteenth dynasty kings were established firmly on the throne of the Hyksos Pharaohs in the north as well as in their ancestral homes in Southern Egypt, even these instances of individual ownership in land came to an end. It was only where the Hyksos supremacy had been weak that they had lingered on. When once the Prince of Thebes had become in all respects the successor of the foreign Pharaohs who had reigned at Zoan, they cease altogether.
The account of Joseph’s procedure is true to facts in another point also. From the time of the eighteenth dynasty onwards we hear repeatedly of the public larits or granaries which were under State control.[[113]] The peasantry were required to contribute to them yearly in a fixed proportion, and the corn stored up in them was only sold to the people in case of need. It was out of these granaries, furthermore, that many of the Government officials were paid in kind, as well as the workmen employed by the State. The office of ‘superintendent of the granaries’ was therefore a very important one: once each year he presented to the king an ‘account of the harvests of the south and the north’; and if the account was exceptionally good, if the inundation had been abundant and the harvest better than ‘for thirty years,’ his grateful sovereign would throw chains of gold around his neck.[[114]] The origin of these royal granaries and of the office of their superintendent which thus characterise the ‘new empire’ of Egypt is explained by the history of Joseph.
Before the days when the conquests of the eighteenth dynasty had created an Egyptian empire in Asia, and brought foreign supplies of food to Egypt, the rise of the Nile was a matter of vital interest. The very existence of the people depended upon it. Too high a Nile meant scarcity, too low a Nile famine. It was only when the river rose to its normal level and overflowed the fields at the stated time that the heart of the agriculturist was gladdened, and he knew that the gods had given him a year of plenty.
The seven years’ famine of Joseph’s age is not the only seven years’ famine which Egypt has had to endure. El-Makrîzî, the Arabic historian of Egypt, describes one which lasted for seven years, from A.D. 1064 to 1071, and, like that of Joseph, was caused by a deficient Nile. A stela discovered by Mr. Wilbour on the island of Sehêl, in the middle of the First Cataract, and engraved in the time of the Ptolemies, similarly records a famine that was wasting the country because ‘the Nile-flood had not come for seven years.’[[115]] And it is possible that a memorial of the famine of Joseph has been discovered by Brugsch in one of the tombs of El-Kab. Here the dead man, a certain Baba, is made to say, ‘When a famine arose, lasting many years, I issued out corn to the city.’ Baba must have lived in the latter part of the Hyksos domination, so that the date of his inscription would agree with that of Joseph.[[116]]
Whether the power of Joseph and his master would still have extended as far south as El-Kab in the age of Baba, we do not know. But we do know that a famine which prevailed in Lower Egypt in consequence of a low Nile would have equally prevailed in the Thebaid. It would not, however, have prevailed in Canaan. In Canaan the ground is watered, not by the Nile, but by the rains of heaven, and in Canaan, therefore, it was only a want of rain that could have caused a scarcity of food.
Famines, indeed, did occur in Palestine from time to time, and we hear of Egyptian kings sending corn to that country to supply its needs.[[117]] As Egypt was the granary of Italy in the days of the Roman Empire, so too it had been the granary of Western Asia in an earlier age. A dry season in Canaan brought famine in its train; and if that dry season coincided with a deficient Nile in Egypt, there was no other land to which its inhabitants could look for food. It is quite possible that one of these famines in Canaan may have happened at the very time when the Nile refused to irrigate the fields of Egypt. When, however, we read that ‘the famine was over all the face of the earth,’ and that ‘all countries came into Egypt to Joseph to buy corn because the famine was sore in all lands,’ it is evident that the narrative has been written from an Egyptian point of view. The Egyptians might have supposed that when a low Nile produced a scarcity of food all other countries would equally suffer—such, indeed, was the case with Ethiopia—but a supposition of the kind is inconceivable in the mind of a Canaanite. An inhabitant of Palestine knew that the crops of his country were dependent on the rain, not on the waters of the Nile; it was only the Egyptian who modelled the rest of the world after that part of it which was known to him.
Here, then, we have a clear indication that the story of Joseph must have been written in Egypt, and further probability is added to the theory that it has been translated into Hebrew from an Egyptian original. But more than this. Is it likely that the Hebrew translator, if he had been acquainted with the climate of Canaan, would have left the words of the story just as we find them? Can we imagine that the language he employed about the extent of the famine would have been so definite, so comprehensive, so Egyptian in character? Like the Egyptian words embodied in the narrative, it points to a writer or translator who lived in Egypt, and not in Canaan.
Who was the Pharaoh under whom Joseph became the first minister of the State? Chronology shows that he must have been one of the kings of the last Hyksos dynasty. George the Syncellus makes him Aphophis, Apopi Ra-aa-kenen, or Apopi II. of the monuments, and the date would suit very well.[[118]] Apopi II. was the last powerful Hyksos sovereign. His authority was still obeyed in Upper Egypt, but it was in his reign that the War of Independence broke out. According to the story in the Sallier Papyrus, it was caused by his message to the hiq or vassal prince of Thebes, requiring him to renounce the worship of Amon of Thebes and acknowledge Sutekh, the Hyksos Baal, as his supreme god.[[119]] The war lasted for four generations, and ended in the expulsion of the foreigner.
But long before this took place the family of Israel was settled in the land of Goshen, on the outskirts of Northern Egypt. The geographical position of Goshen has been rediscovered by Dr. Naville. It corresponded with the modern Wadi Tumilât, through which the traveller by the railway now passes on his way from Ismailîyeh to Zagazig. It took its name from Qosem or Qos, the Pha-kussa of Greek geography, and the capital of the Arabian nome, the site of which is marked by the mounds of Saft el-Hennah.[[120]] The very name of the ‘Arabian nome’ indicates that its occupants belonged to Arabia rather than to Egypt. It was, in fact, a district handed over to the Bedâwin by the Pharaohs, as it still is to-day. Meneptah, the son of Ramses II., says in his great inscription at Karnak that ‘the country around Pa-Bailos (now Belbeis, near Zagazig) was not cultivated, but left as pasture for cattle, because of the strangers. It was abandoned since the time of the ancestors.’[[121]] Abandoned, that is to say, by the Egyptians themselves. But the Semitic nomad pitched his tent and fed his flocks there, partly because it was on the road to his own country and countrymen, partly because it was fitted for grazing and not for agriculture. Here, too, he was not in immediate contact with the Egyptian fellah, though the court of the Hyksos Pharaoh at Zoan was nigh at hand.
Joseph’s brethren were made overseers of the royal cattle, an official post of which we also hear in the native Egyptian texts. After a while, Jacob died, full of years, and his body was embalmed in the Egyptian fashion. The actual process of embalming occupied forty days, the whole period during which ‘the Egyptians mourned for him,’ being threescore and ten. The statement is in accordance with other testimony as to the length of time needed to embalm a mummy. Herodotos (ii. 86) states that the corpse was kept in natron during seventy days, ‘to which period they are strictly confined.’ According to Diodoros,[[122]] ‘oil of cedar and other things were applied to the whole body for upwards of thirty days,’ the full period during which the mourning for the dead and the preparation of his mummy lasted being seventy-two days. Between the age of Joseph and that of Diodoros it would seem that little change had taken place in this part, at any rate, of the Egyptian treatment of their dead. When, however, the Hebrew text states that the corpse was embalmed by ‘the physicians, the slaves’ of Joseph; the word ‘physicians’ must be understood in a restricted sense. Pliny,[[123]] it is true, avers that during the process of embalming physicians were employed to examine the body of the dead man and determine of what disease he had died. But the paraskhistæ, who made the needful incision, were regarded with the utmost abhorrence; they were the pariahs of society, who lived in a community apart. It was the embalmers who were the associates of the priests, and whose persons, in the words of Diodoros, were looked upon as ‘sacred.’ Nor is it easy to see who could have been the physicians who were the ‘slaves’ of the Hebrew vizier. The physician in Egypt was usually a free man, who followed a profession which brought with it honour and respect. The doctor belonged to the learned classes, and, like the scribe, had no mean opinion of his worth and dignity. But such physicians were employed in healing the sick, not in embalming the dead, and must have stood in a very different position from that of Joseph’s ‘slaves.’ More light is still wanted on the subject from monumental sources; in spite of the papyri which describe the ceremonies attendant on the various acts of the embalmment, we are still ignorant of its practical details.
When at last the days of mourning were past, Joseph spoke, we are told, to ‘the house of Pharaoh.’ The expression is purely Egyptian, and refers to the signification of the word ‘Pharaoh’ itself. Pharaoh, the Egyptian Per-âa, is the ‘Great House’; ‘the son of the Sun-god’ was too highly exalted to be spoken of as a man, and it was therefore to ‘the Great House’ that his subjects addressed themselves. Modern Europe is familiar with a similar phrase; when we allude to the ‘Sublime Porte’ we mean the Turkish Sultan, who once administered justice from the ‘High Gate’ of his palace.
Jacob was buried in the cave of Machpelah. A long procession of soldiers and mourners, partly in chariots, partly on foot, accompanied the mummy on its way out of Egypt. Such a procession was no unusual thing. The wealthy Egyptian desired to be buried near the tomb of Osiris at Abydos, and it was therefore not unfrequently the custom to convey his mummy in solemn procession to that sacred spot, and then to carry it back once more to its own final resting-place. The procession which accompanied the body of the patriarch must have followed the high-road which led through the Shur, or line of fortification on the eastern border of the desert, and brought the traveller with little difficulty to Southern Palestine. The reference in the narrative to the threshing-floor of Atad, on the eastern side of the Jordan, is an interpolation, which embodies merely a local etymology. The chariot-road from Egypt to Palestine naturally never ran near the Jordan; and the threshing-floor of Atad would have been far out of the way. But popular imagination had seen in the name of Abel-Mizraim, where the threshing-floor was situated, a ‘mourning of Egypt,’ and had accordingly connected it with the great mourning that was made for Jacob. As a matter of fact, however, Abel-Mizraim really signifies ‘the meadow of Egypt,’ abel, ‘a meadow,’ being a not uncommon element in the geographical names of ancient Canaan.[[124]]
Two sons had been born to Joseph by his Egyptian wife, whom the Israelites knew by their Hebrew names. They had been born before the death of his father, and had thus received his blessing. Joseph himself lived ‘an hundred and ten years.’ This was the limit of life the Egyptian desired for himself and his friends, and in the inscriptions the boon of a life of ‘an hundred and ten years’ is from time to time asked for from the gods. It is the term of existence a court poet promises to Seti II. ‘on earth,’ and Ptah-hotep, the author of ‘the oldest book in the world,’ who flourished in the days of the fifth dynasty, assures us that, thanks to his pursuit of wisdom he had already attained the age.[[125]]
Joseph was embalmed, but his mummy was not carried to Hebron for burial, like that of his father. If Apopi II. had been the Pharaoh who had transformed him from a Hebrew slave into the highest of Egyptian officials, the War of Independence must have broken out long before his death. The Hyksos dynasty was hastening to its decay. Its strength had departed from it, and the Pharaohs of Zoan, who had lost all power in Upper Egypt, would still more have lost all power in Asia. Their soldiers were needed for other purposes than that of escorting the coffin of the dead vizier across the desert of El-Arish. Moreover, Joseph was an Egyptian official, and by his marriage into the family of the high priest of Heliopolis had become as much of an Egyptian as his Hyksos master. We are told that he made the Israelites swear to carry his corpse with them should they ever return to Palestine; the triumph of the Theban princes was growing more assured, and Joseph knew well that the vengeance of the victorious party would be wreaked upon the dead as well as upon the living. The history of Egypt had already shown that the tomb and the mummy were the first to suffer.
A change of sepulchre was no unheard-of thing. King Ai of the eighteenth dynasty had two, if not three, tombs made for himself, and the mummy could be transported from one place of burial to another. All knew where it was interred; year by year offerings were made to the spirit of the dead, and in many cases the estate of the deceased was taxed to support a line of priests who should perform the stated services at the tomb. As long as the sepulchre of Joseph was in the neighbourhood of his people it would have been easy to protect his mummy from violence, and to carry the coffin out of Egypt when the needful time should come.
CHAPTER II
THE COMPOSITION OF THE PENTATEUCH
The Literary Analysis and its Conclusions—Based on a Theory and an Assumption—Weakness of the Philological Evidence—Disregard of the Scientific Method of Comparison—Imperfection of our Knowledge of Hebrew—Archæology unfavourable to the Higher Criticism—Analysis of Historical Sources—Tel el-Amarna Tablets—Antiquity of Writing in the East—The Mosaic Age highly Literary—Scribes mentioned in the Song of Deborah—The Story of the Deluge brought from Babylonia to Canaan before the time of Moses—The Narratives of the Pentateuch confirmed by Archæology—Compiled from early Written Documents—Revised and re-edited from time to time—Three Strata of Legislation—Accuracy in the Text—Tendencies—Chronology.
The book of Genesis ends with the death of Joseph. When the five books of the Pentateuch were divided from one another we do not know. The division is older than the Septuagint translation, older too than the time when the Law of Moses was accepted by the Samaritans as divinely authoritative. As far back as we can trace the external history of the Pentateuch, it has consisted of five books divided from one another as they still are in our present Bibles.
An influential school of modern critics has come to conclusions which are difficult to reconcile with this external testimony. Instead of the Pentateuch it offers us a Hexateuch, the Book of Joshua being added to those of Moses, and of the origin and growth of this Hexateuch it professes to be able to give a minute and mathematically exact account. Very little, if any of it, we are told, goes back to the period of Moses, the larger part of the work having been composed or compiled in the age of the Exile. It is true, the theories of criticism have changed from time to time; what was formerly held, for instance, to be the oldest portion of the Hexateuch being now regarded as the latest; but each generation of critics has been equally confident that its own literary analysis was mathematically correct. At present the hypothetical scheme most in favour is as follows.
The earliest part of the Hexateuch, at all events in its existing form, is a document distinguished by the use of the name Yahveh, and sometimes therefore termed Yahvistic or Jehovistic, but more usually designated by the symbol J. The Yahvist is supposed to have been a Jew who made use of older materials, and lived in the ninth century B.C. His work begins with ‘the second’ account of the Creation, in the middle of the fourth verse of the second chapter of Genesis, and the last trace of it is to be found in the story of the death and burial of Moses at the end of Deuteronomy. His style is said to be naïve and lively, and his conceptions of the Deity grossly anthropomorphic.
Next in order to the Yahvist comes the Second Elohist (symbolised by the letter E), whose title is derived from the period, not very far distant, in the history of criticism, when what is now known as the Priestly Code was assigned to a First Elohist. The Elohist is characterised by the use of the word Elohim, ‘God,’ rather than Yahveh, and the critics have discovered in him a native of the northern kingdom. To him belong the ‘Ten Words’ which represent the original form of the Ten Commandments, as well as the history of Joseph. He is said to have written with a certain theological tendency, to which is due his predilection for introducing dreams and angels into his narrative. His date is ascribed to the eighth century B.C., and the combination of his narrative with that of the Yahvist (J.E.) produced a composite work to which the name of Prophetic or Pre-Deuteronomic Redaction has been applied. The Redactor endeavoured to reconcile the contradictions between the two narratives by various harmonistic expedients; his success was not great, and the nineteenth century critic accordingly believes himself able not only to separate the two original documents, but to point out the additions of the Redactor as well.
Contemporaneous with this work of redaction was the appearance of a new book, the so-called Book of the Covenant. This was of small dimensions; at any rate, all that remains of it is contained in a few chapters of Exodus (xx. 24-xxiii. 33, xxiv. 3-8). It was added, however, to the Prophetic Redaction, and the Mosaic Law for the first time was introduced to the world.
But now appeared a book which was of momentous consequences for both the history and the religion of Judah. This was the book of Deuteronomy, or rather the middle portion of the book of Deuteronomy (chaps. xii-xxvi.), the rest of the book being a subsequent addition. This abbreviated Deuteronomy, it is assumed, is ‘the book of the Law’ which Hilkiah the high priest declared he had ‘found in the house of the Lord’ in the reign of Josiah, and it is further assumed that the word ‘found’ is intended to cover a ‘pious fraud.’ The Egyptian inscriptions mention books of early date which had been similarly ‘found’ in the temples, and some of these books really seem to have been forgeries of a later date.[[126]] Modern criticism has determined that Hilkiah and his friends imitated the example of the Egyptian priests in the case of Deuteronomy. At all events, the results were instantaneous and revolutionary. The king and his court believed that they had before them the actual commands of their God to the great lawgiver of Israel, and the Jewish religion underwent accordingly a radical reform. Nor did the effect of the supposed discovery end here. Like the forged Decretals in mediæval Europe, the book of Deuteronomy had a continuous and wide-reaching influence upon Jewish thought. Its teaching was matured during the Exile, and out of it grew that form of Jewish religion of which Christianity was the heir. The book of Deuteronomy (symbolised by D) in the first as well as in the second or enlarged edition belongs to the latter part of the seventh century B.C. But the Hexateuch was still far from complete. During the Exile a book of the Law, now contained in Lev. xvii.-xxvi., was written and promulgated, the author, it appears, having been incited to his work by Ezekiel’s ideal of a theocratic state. This book of the Law was followed by a far more ambitious production, the ‘Priestly Code’ (generally known as P, and not unfrequently called the ‘Grundschrift’ by German writers). The Priestly Code embodies what earlier critics knew as the work of the First Elohist; it not only in the name of Moses shapes the ritual and religion of Israel to the advantage of the priests, but it attempts to trace the history of the revelation which resulted in that religion back to the Creation itself. The name of Elohim is again a distinguishing feature in the narrative, which is described by the ‘critics’ as formal and pedantic, as affectedly archaistic, and as disfigured by a strong theological tendency. Wellhausen and Stade assure us that it transforms the patriarchs into pious Jews of the Exile. And yet it was just this narrative, which we are now told bears so plainly on its face the marks of its late age and sacerdotal character, that hardly twenty years ago was declared by the critics themselves to be the oldest portion of the Hexateuch!
By this time the Hexateuch was nearly ready to become the Pentateuch, which should be read by Ezra before the Jewish community as ‘the law of God’ (Nem. viii. 8), and be accepted by the hostile Samaritans as alone authoritative among the sacred books of Israel. All that was needed further was to combine the existing books into a whole, smoothing over the inconsistencies between them and supplying links of connection. The ‘final Redactor’ who accomplished this task lived shortly after the Exile, and has been identified with Ezra by some of the critics. Whoever he was, he was naturally more in harmony with the spirit and ideas of the Priestly Code than he was with those of the Prophetic Redaction, or even of Deuteronomy; indeed, it is hard to understand why he should have troubled himself about the Prophetic Redaction at all. Between the Jewish religion of the days of Asa or Jehoshaphat and that of the period after the Exile a great gulf was fixed.
It is clear that if the modern literary analysis of the Pentateuch is justified, it is useless to look to the five books of Moses for authentic history. There is nothing in them which can be ascribed with certainty to the age of Moses, nothing which goes back even to the age of the Judges. Between the Exodus out of Egypt and the composition of the earliest portion of the so-called Mosaic Law there would have been a dark and illiterate interval of several centuries. Not even tradition could be trusted to span them. For the Mosaic age, and still more for the age before the Exodus, all that we read in the Old Testament would be historically valueless.
Such criticism, therefore, as accepts the results of ‘the literary analysis’ of the Hexateuch acts consistently in stamping as mythical the whole period of Hebrew history which precedes the settlement of the Israelitish tribes in Canaan. Doubt is thrown even on their residence in Egypt and subsequent escape from ‘the house of bondage.’ Moses himself becomes a mere figure of mythland, a hero of popular imagination whose sepulchre was unknown because it had never been occupied. In order to discredit the earlier records of the Israelitish people, there is no need of indicating contradictions—real or otherwise—in the details of the narratives contained in them, of enlarging upon their chronological difficulties, or of pointing to the supernatural elements they involve; the late dates assigned to the medley of documents which have been discovered in the Hexateuch are sufficient of themselves to settle the question.[[127]]
The dates are largely, if not altogether, dependent on the assumption that Hebrew literature is not older than the age of David. A few poems like the Song of Deborah may have been handed down orally from an earlier period, but readers and writers, it is assumed, there were none. The use of writing for literary purposes was coeval with the rise of the monarchy. The oldest inscription in the letters of the Phœnician alphabet yet discovered is only of the ninth century B.C., and the alphabet would have been employed for monumental purposes long before it was applied to the manufacture of books. As Wolf’s theory of the origin and late date of the Homeric Poems avowedly rested on the belief that the literary use of writing in Greece was of late date, so too the theory of the analysts of the Hexateuch rests tacitly on the belief that the Israelites of the age of Moses and the Judges were wholly illiterate. Moses did not write the Pentateuch because he could not have done so.
The huge edifice of modern Pentateuchal criticism is thus based on a theory and an assumption. The theory is that of ‘the literary analysis’ of the Hexateuch, the assumption that a knowledge of writing in Israel was of comparatively late date. The theory, however, is philological, not historical. The analysis is philological rather than literary, and depends entirely on the occurrence and use of certain words and phrases. Lists have been drawn up of the words and phrases held to be peculiar to the different writers between whom the Hexateuch is divided, and the portion of the Hexateuch to be assigned to each is determined accordingly. That it is sometimes necessary to cut a verse in two, somewhat to the injury of the sense, matters but little; the necessities of the theory require the sacrifice, and the analyst looks no further. Great things grow out of little, and the mathematical minuteness with which the Hexateuch is apportioned among its numerous authors, and the long lists of words and idioms by which the apportionment is supported, all have their origin in Astruc’s separation of the book of Genesis into two documents, in one of which the name of Yahveh is used, while in the other it is replaced by Elohim.[[128]]
The historian, however, is inclined to look with suspicion upon historical results which rest upon purely philological evidence. It is not so very long ago since the comparative philologists believed they had restored the early history of the Aryan race. With the help of the dictionary and grammar they had painted an idyllic picture of the life and culture of the primitive Aryan family and traced the migrations of its offshoots from their primeval Asiatic home. But anthropology has rudely dissipated all these reconstructions of primitive history, and has not spared even the Aryan family or the Asiatic home itself. The history that was based on philology has been banished to fairyland. It may be that the historical results based on the complicated and ingenious system of Hexateuchal criticism will hereafter share the same fate.
In fact, there is one characteristic of them which cannot but excite suspicion. A passage which runs counter to the theory of the critic is at once pronounced an interpolation, due to the clumsy hand of some later ‘Redactor.’ Thus ‘the tabernacle of the congregation’ is declared to have been an invention of the Priestly Code; and therefore a verse in the First Book of Samuel (ii. 22), which happens to refer to it, is arbitrarily expunged from the text. Similarly passages in the historical books which imply an acquaintance on the part of Solomon and his successors with the laws and institutions of the Priestly Code are asserted to be late additions, and assigned to the very circle of writers to which the composition of the Code is credited. Indeed, if we are to believe the analysts, a considerable part of the professedly historical literature of the Old Testament was written or ‘redacted’ chiefly with the purpose of bolstering up the ideas and inventions either of the Deuteronomist or of the later Code. This is a cheap and easy way of rewriting ancient history, but it is neither scientific nor in accordance with the historical method, however consonant it may be with the methods of the philologist.
When, however, we come to examine the philological evidence upon which we are asked to accept this new reading of ancient Hebrew history, we find that it is wofully defective. We are asked to believe that a European scholar of the nineteenth century can analyse with mathematical precision a work composed centuries ago in the East for Eastern readers in a language that is long since dead, can dissolve it verse by verse, and even word by word, into its several elements, and fix the approximate date and relation of each. The accomplishment of such a feat is an impossibility, and to attempt it is to sin as much against common sense as against the laws of science. Science teaches us that we can attain to truth only by the help of comparison; we can know things scientifically only in so far as they can be compared and measured one with another. Where there is no comparison there can be no scientific result. Even the logicians of the Middle Ages taught that no conclusion can be drawn from what they termed a single instance. It is just this, however, that the Hexateuchal critics have essayed to do. The Pentateuch and its history have been compared with nothing except themselves, and the results have been derived not from the method of comparison, but from the so-called ‘tact’ and arbitrary judgment of the individual scholar. Certain postulates have been assumed, the consequences of which have been gradually evolved, one after another, while the coherence and credibility of the general hypothesis has been supported by the invention of further subordinate hypotheses as the need for them arose. The ‘critical’ theory of the origin and character of the Hexateuch closely resembles the Ptolemaic theory of the universe; like the latter, it is highly complicated and elaborate, coherent in itself, and perfect on paper, but unfortunately baseless in reality.
Its very complication condemns it. It is too ingenious to be true. Had the Hexateuch been pieced together as we are told it was, it would have required a special revelation to discover the fact. We may lay it down as a general rule in science that the more simple a theory is, the more likely it is to be correct. It is the complicated theories, which demand all kinds of subsidiary qualifications and assistant hypotheses, that are put aside by the progress of science. The wit of man may be great, but it needs a mass of material before even a simple theory can be established with any pretence to scientific value.
There is yet another reason why the new theory of the origin of the Mosaic Law stands self-condemned. It deals with the writers and readers of the ancient East as if they were modern German professors and their literary audience. The author of the Priestly Code is supposed to go to work with scissors and paste, and with a particular object in view, like a rather wooden and unimaginative compiler of to-day. And so closely did the minds and methods of the authors of the Hexateuch resemble those of their modern European critics, that in spite of their efforts to conceal the piecemeal nature of their work, as well as of the fact that it actually deceived their countrymen to whom it was addressed, to the European scholar of to-day it all lies open and revealed. When, however, we turn to other products of Oriental thought, whether ancient or modern, we do not find that this is the way in which the authors of them have written history, or what purports to be history, neither do we find their readers to be at all like those for whom the Hexateuch is supposed to have been compiled. The point of view of an Oriental is still essentially different from that of a European, at all events so far as history and literature are concerned; and the attempt to transform the ancient Israelitish historians into somewhat inferior German compilers proves only a strange want of familiarity with Eastern modes of thought.
But it is not only science, it is common sense as well, which is violated by the endeavour to foist philological speculations into the treatment of historical questions. Hebrew is a dead language; it is moreover a language which is but imperfectly known. Our knowledge of it is derived entirely from that fragment of its literature which is preserved in the Old Testament, and the errors of copyists and the corruptions of the text make a good deal even of this obscure and doubtful. There are numerous words, the traditional rendering of which is questionable; there are numerous others in the case of which it is certainly wrong; and there is passage after passage in which the translations of scholars vary from one another, sometimes even to contradiction. Of both grammar and lexicon it may be said that we see them through a glass darkly. Not unfrequently the reading of the Septuagint—the earliest manuscript of which is six hundred years older than the earliest manuscript of the Hebrew text—differs entirely from the reading of the Hebrew; and there is a marked tendency among the Hexateuchal analysts to prefer it, though the recently-discovered Hebrew text of the book of Ecclesiasticus seems to show that the preference is not altogether justified.
How, then, can a modern Western scholar analyse with even approximate exactitude an ancient Hebrew work, and on the strength of the language and style dissolve it once more into its component atoms? How can he determine the relation of these atoms one to the other, or presume to fix the dates to which they severally belong? The task would be impossible even in the case of a modern English book, although English is a spoken language with which we are all supposed to be thoroughly acquainted, while its vast literature is familiar to us all. And yet even where we know that a work is composite, it passes the power of man to separate it into its elements and define the limits of each. No one, for instance, would dream of attempting such a task in the case of the novels of Besant and Rice; and the endeavour to distinguish in certain plays of Shakespeare what belongs to the poet himself and what to Fletcher has met with the oblivion it deserved. Is it likely that a problem which cannot be solved in the case of an English book can be solved where its difficulties are increased a thousandfold? The minuteness and apparent precision of Hexateuchal criticism are simply due, like that of the Ptolemaic theory, to the artificial character of the basis on which it rests. It is, in fact, a philological mirage; it attempts the impossible, and in place of the scientific method of comparison, it gives us as a starting-point the assumptions and arbitrary principles of a one-sided critic.[[129]]
Where philology has failed, archæology has come to our help. The needful comparison of the Old Testament record with something else than itself has been afforded by the discoveries which have been made of recent years in Egypt and Babylonia and other parts of the ancient East. At last we are able to call in the aid of the scientific method, and test the age and character, the authenticity and trustworthiness of the Old Testament history, by monuments about whose historical authority there can be no question. And the result of the test has, on the whole, been in favour of tradition, and against the doctrines of the newer critical school. It has vindicated the antiquity and credibility of the narratives of the Pentateuch; it has proved that the Mosaic age was a highly literary one, and that consequently the marvel would be, not that Moses should have written, but that he should not have done so; and it has undermined the foundation on which the documentary hypothesis of the origin of the Hexateuch has been built. We are still indeed only at the beginning of discoveries; those made during the past year or two have for the student of Genesis been exceptionally important; but enough has now been gained to assure us that the historian may safely disregard the philological theory of Hexateuchal criticism, and treat the books of the Pentateuch from a wholly different point of view. They are a historical record, and it is for the historian and archæologist, and not for the grammarian, to determine their value and age.
The investigation of the literary sources of history has been a peculiarly German pastime. Doubtless such an investigation has been necessary. But it is exposed to the danger of trying to make bricks without straw. More often than not the materials are wanting for arriving at conclusions of solid scientific value. The results announced in such cases are due partly to the critic’s own prepossessions and postulates, partly to the imperfection of the evidence. It is easy to doubt, still easier to deny, especially where the evidence is defective, and the criticism of the literary sources of a narrative has sometimes meant an unwarrantable and unintelligent scepticism. To reverse traditional judgments, to reject external testimony, and to discover half-a-dozen authors where antiquity knew of but one, may be a proof of the critic’s ingenuity, but it does not always demonstrate his appreciation of evidence.
Criticism of the literary sources of our historical knowledge is indeed necessary, and a recognition of the fact has much to do with the advance which has been made during the present century in the study of the past. But it must not be forgotten that such criticism has its weak side. Internal evidence alone is always unsatisfactory; it offers too much scope for the play of the critic’s imagination and the impression of his own idiosyncrasies upon the records of history. It resembles too much the procedure of the spider who spins his web out of himself. It is wanting in that element of comparison without which scientific truth is unattainable. To determine the age and trustworthiness of our literary authorities is doubtless of extreme importance to the historian, but unfortunately the materials for doing so are too often absent, and the fancies and assumptions of the critic are put in their place.
The trustworthiness of an author, like the reality of the facts he narrates, can be adequately tested in only one way. We must be able to compare his accounts of past events with other contemporaneous records of them. Sometimes these records consist of pottery or other products of human industry which anthropology is able to interpret; often they are the far more important inscriptions which were written or engraved by the actors in the events themselves. In other words, it is to archæology that we must look for a verification or the reverse of the ancient history that has been handed down to us as well as of the credibility of its narrators. The written monuments of the ancient East which belong to the same age as the patriarchs or Moses can alone assure us whether we are to trust the narrative of the Pentateuch or to see in it a confused medley of legends the late date of which makes belief in them impossible.
As has been said above, Oriental archæology has already disclosed sufficient to show us to which of these two alternatives we must lean. On the one hand, much of the history contained in the book of Genesis has been shown, directly or indirectly, to be authentic; on the other hand, the new-fangled theory of the composition of the Hexateuch has been decisively ruled out of court. Let us take the second point first.
In 1887 a large collection of clay tablets inscribed with cuneiform characters was found by the Egyptian fellahin among the ruins of the ancient city now known as Tel el-Amarna, on the eastern bank of the Nile, about midway between Minieh and Siût. The city had enjoyed but a brief existence. Towards the close of the eighteenth dynasty, the Pharaoh, Amenophis III., had died, leaving the throne to his son, Amenophis IV., a mere lad, who was still under the influence of his mother Teie. Teie was of Asiatic extraction, and fanatically devoted to an Asiatic form of faith. This devotion was shared by her son, and soon began to bear fruit. Amon of Thebes had to make way for a new deity, who was worshipped under the visible form of the solar disk, and the old religion of Egypt of which the Pharaoh was the official head was utterly proscribed. It was not long before the Pharaoh and the powerful hierarchy of Thebes were at open war; the very name of Amon was erased from the monuments where it occurred, and the king changed his own name to that of Khu-n-Aten, ‘the glory of the Solar Disk.’ But in the end, Khu-n-Aten had to quit the capital of his fathers and establish himself with his adherents and courtiers in a new city further north. This city, Khut-Aten, as. it was called, is now represented by the mounds of Tel el-Amarna.
Here the Pharaoh was surrounded by his followers, a large proportion of whom were Asiatics, chiefly from Canaan. The court of Egypt, as well as its religion, became Asiatised. The revolution in religion was also accompanied by a revolution in art. The old hieratic canon of Egyptian art was cast aside, and an excessive realism was aimed at, sometimes even to the verge of caricature. In the centre of the new city a temple was raised to the new divinity of Egypt, and hard by the temple rose the palace of the king. Its ornamentation was surpassingly gorgeous. Its walls and columns were inlaid with precious stones, with coloured glass and gold; even its floors were painted with scenes from nature which are of the highest artistic excellence, and statues were erected, some of which remind us of the best work of classical Greece.[[130]]
But the glory of Khut-Aten was short-lived. The latter years of the reign of its founder were clouded with religious and civil dissension. Religious persecution at home had been followed by trouble and revolt abroad in the Asiatic provinces of the Empire. When Khu-n-Aten died, his enemies were already pressing around him, and the perils that threatened him in Egypt obliged him to return no answer to the despairing appeals for help that came to him from his governors in Palestine. Hardly had the mummy of the king been deposited in the superb tomb that he had carved out of a mountain amid the desolation and solitude of a distant gorge, when the spoiler was at hand. The royal sarcophagus never reached the niche in which it was intended to be placed; the enemies of the ‘Heretic King’ hacked to pieces its granite sides as it lay upon the floor of the inner chamber, and scattered to the winds the remains of its occupant. The destruction of Khut-Aten soon followed; one or two princes of the family of Khu-n-Aten did indeed struggle for a brief while to maintain themselves upon his throne, but before long Amon triumphed over the Solar Disk. The great temple of Aten was razed to the ground, and its stones carried away to serve as materials for the sanctuaries of the victorious god of Thebes. The palace of Khu-n-Aten was destroyed, the religion he had essayed to force upon his subjects was forgotten, and the Asiatic officials who had filled his court were driven into exile. The city he had built was deserted, never to be inhabited again.
The clay tablets found by the fellahin were discovered on the site of the Foreign Office of the ‘Heretic King,’ the bricks of which were each stamped with the words ‘The Record Office of Aten-Ra.’[[131]] It adjoined the palace, and we learn from a clay seal found among its ruins by Professor Petrie that it was under the control of a Babylonian. This, however, was not extraordinary, since the foreign correspondence of the Pharaoh was carried on in the Babylonian language and the Babylonian system of writing. In fact, the Tel el-Amarna tablets have shown that the Western Asia conquered by the Egyptian kings of the eighteenth dynasty was wholly under the domination of Babylonian culture. All over the civilised Oriental world, from the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates to those of the Nile, the common medium of literary and diplomatic intercourse was the language and script of Chaldæa. Not only the writing material, but all that was written upon it, was borrowed from Babylonia. So powerful was this Babylonian influence, that the Egyptians themselves were compelled to submit to it. In place of their own singular and less cumbrous hieratic or cursive script, they had to communicate with their Asiatic subjects and allies in the cuneiform characters and the Babylonian tongue. Indeed, there is evidence that the memoranda made by the official scribes of the Pharaoh’s court, at all events in Palestine, were compiled in the same foreign speech and syllabary.[[132]] That the Babylonian language and script were studied in Egypt itself we know from the evidence of the Tel el-Amarna tablets. Among them have been found fragments of dictionaries as well as Babylonian mythological tales. In one of the latter certain of the words and phrases are separated from one another in order to assist the learner.
The use of the Babylonian language and system of writing in Western Asia must have been of considerable antiquity. This is proved by the fact that the characters had gradually assumed peculiar forms in the different countries in which they were employed, so that by merely glancing at the form of the writing we can tell whether a tablet was written in Palestine or in Northern Syria, in Cappadocia or Mesopotamia. The knowledge of them, moreover, was not confined to the few. On the contrary, education must have been widely spread; the Tel el-Amarna correspondence was carried on, not only by professional scribes, but also by officials, by soldiers, and by merchants. Even women appear among the writers, and take part in the politics of the day. The letters, too, are sometimes written about the most trivial matters, and not unfrequently enter into the most unimportant details.
They were sent from all parts of the known civilised world. The kings of Babylonia and Assyria, of Mesopotamia and Cappadocia, the Egyptian governors of Syria and Canaan, even the chiefs of the Bedâwin tribes on the Egyptian frontier, who were subsidised by the Pharaoh’s government like the Afghan chiefs of to-day, all alike contributed to the correspondence. Letters, in fact, must have been constantly passing to and fro along the high-roads which intersected Western Asia. From one end of it to the other the population was in perpetual literary intercourse, proving that the Oriental world in the century before the Exodus was as highly educated and literary as was Europe in the age of the Renaissance. Nor was all this literary activity and intercourse a new thing. Several of the letters had been sent to Amenophis III., the father of the ‘Heretic King,’ and had been removed by the latter from the archives of Thebes when he transferred his residence to his new capital. And the literary intercourse which was carried on in the time of Amenophis III. was merely a continuation of that which had been carried on for centuries previously. The culture of Babylonia, like that of Egypt, was essentially literary, and this culture had been spread over Western Asia from a remote date. The letters of Khammu-rabi or Amraphel to his vassal, the king of Larsa, have just been recovered, and among the multitudinous contract-tablets of the same epoch are specimens of commercial correspondence.
We have, however, only to consider for a moment what was meant by learning the language and script of Babylonia in order to realise what a highly-organised system of education must have prevailed throughout the whole civilised world of the day. Not only had the Babylonian language to be acquired, but some knowledge also of the older agglutinative language of Chaldæa was also needed in order to understand the system of writing. It was as if the schoolboy of to-day had to add a knowledge of Greek to a knowledge of French. And the system of writing itself involved years of hard and patient study. It consisted of a syllabary containing hundreds of characters, each of which had not only several different phonetic values, but several different ideographic significations as well. Nor was this all. A group of characters might be used ideographically to express a word the pronunciation of which had nothing to do with the sounds of the individual characters of which it was composed. The number of ideographs which had to be learned was thus increased fivefold. And, unlike the hieroglyphs of Egypt, the forms of these ideographs gave no assistance to the memory. They had long since lost all resemblance to the pictures out of which they had originally been developed, and consisted simply of various combinations of wedges or lines. It was difficult enough for the Babylonian or Assyrian to learn the syllabary; for a foreigner the task was almost herculean.
That it should have been undertaken implies the existence of libraries and schools. One of the distinguishing features of Babylonian culture were the libraries which existed in the great towns, and wherever Babylonian culture was carried this feature of it must have gone too. Hence in the libraries of Western Asia clay books inscribed with cuneiform characters must have been stored up, while beside them must have been the schools, where the pupils bent over their exercises and the teachers instructed them in the language and script of the foreigner. The world into which Moses was born was a world as literary as our own.
If Western Asia were the home of a long-established literary culture, Egypt was even more so. From time immemorial the land of the Pharaohs had been a land of writers and readers. At a very early period the hieroglyphic system of writing had been modified into a cursive hand, the so-called hieratic; and as far back as the days of the third and fifth dynasties famous books had been written, and the author of one of them, Ptah-hotep, already deplores the degeneracy and literary decay of his own time. The traveller up the Nile, who examines the cliffs that line the river, cannot but be struck by the multitudinous names that are scratched upon them. He is at times inclined to believe that every Egyptian in ancient times knew how to write, and had little else to do than to scribble a record of himself on the rocks. The impression is the same that we derive from the small objects which are disinterred in such thousands from the sites of the old cities. Wherever it is possible, an inscription has been put upon them, which, it seems taken for granted, could be read by all. Even the walls of the temples and tombs were covered with written texts; wherever the Egyptian turned, or whatever might be the object he used, it was difficult for him to avoid the sight of the written word. Whoever was born in the land of Egypt was perforce familiarised with the art of writing from the very days of his infancy.
Evidence is accumulating that the same literary culture which thus prevailed in Egypt and Western Asia had extended also to the peninsula of Arabia. Dr. Glaser and Professor Hommel, two of the foremost authorities on the subject, believe that some of the inscriptions of Southern Arabia go back to the age of the eighteenth and nineteenth Egyptian dynasties; and if they are right, as they seem to be, in holding that the kingdom of Ma’n or the Minæans preceded that of Saba or Sheba, the antiquity of writing in Arabia must be great.[[133]] The fact that the Babylonian dynasty to which Amraphel belonged was of South Arabian origin supports the belief in the existence of Arabian culture at an early period, as do also the latest researches into the source of the so-called Phœnician alphabet. We now know that in the Mosaic age it was the cuneiform syllabary, and not the Phœnician alphabet, that was used in Canaan, while the oldest inscription in Phœnician letters yet found is later than the reign of Solomon. On the other hand, the South Arabian form of the alphabet contains letters which denote sounds once possessed by all the Semitic languages, but lost by the language of Canaan; and though some of these letters may be derived from other letters of the alphabet, there are some which have an independent origin. The caravan-road along which the spices of the South were carried to Syria and Egypt passed through the territory of Edom; inscriptions of the kings of Ma’n have already been discovered near Teima, not far from the frontiers of Midian; and it may be that we shall yet find records among the ranges of Mount Seir which will form a link between the early texts of Southern Arabia and the oldest text that has come from Phœnician soil.
The Exodus from Egypt, then, took place during a highly literary period, and the people who took part in it passed from a country where the art of writing literally stared them in the face to another country which had been the centre of the Tel el-Amarna correspondence and the home of Babylonian literary culture for unnumbered centuries. Is it conceivable that their leader and reputed lawgiver should not have been able to write, that he should not have been educated ‘in the wisdom of Egypt,’ or that the upper classes of his nation should not have been able to read? Let it be granted that the Israelites were but a Bedâwin tribe which had been reduced by the Pharaohs to the condition of public slaves; still, they necessarily had leaders and overseers among them, who, according to the State regulations of Egypt, were responsible to the Government for the rest of their countrymen, and some at least of these leaders and overseers would have been educated men. Moses could have written the Pentateuch, even if he did not do so.
Moreover, the clay tablets on which the past history of Canaan could be read were preserved in the libraries and archive-chambers of the Canaanitish cities down to the time when the latter were destroyed. If any doubt had existed on the subject after the revelations of the Tel el-Amarna tablets, it has been set at rest by the discovery of a similar tablet on the site of Lachish. In some cases the cities were not destroyed, so far as we know, until the period when it is allowed that the Israelites had ceased to be illiterate. Gezer, for example, which plays a leading part in the Tel el-Amarna correspondence, does not seem to have fallen into the hands of an enemy until it was captured by the Egyptian Pharaoh and handed over to his son-in-law Solomon. As long as a knowledge of the cuneiform script continued, the early records of Canaan were thus accessible to the historian, many of them being contemporaneous with the events to which they referred.
A single archæological discovery has thus destroyed the base of operations from which a one-sided criticism of Old Testament history had started. The really strong point in favour of it was the assumption that the Mosaic age was illiterate. Just as Wolf founded his criticism and analysis of the Homeric Hymns on the belief that the use of writing for literary purposes was of late date in Greece, so the belief that the Israelites of the time of Moses could not read or write was the ultimate foundation on which the modern theory of the composition of the Hexateuch has been based. Whether avowed or not, it was the true starting-point of critical scepticism, the one solid foundation on which it seemed to rest. The destruction of the foundation endangers the structure which has been built upon it.
In fact, it wholly alters the position of the modern critical theory. The onus probandi no longer lies on the shoulders of the defenders of traditional views. Instead of being called upon to prove that Moses could have written a book, it is they who have to call on the disciples of the modern theory to show reason why he should not have done so. And it is always difficult to prove a negative.
It may be said that the positive arguments of the modern hypothesis remain as they were. That is possible, but their background is gone. And how conscious the Hexateuchal analysts were of the importance of this background, before the discovery of the Tel el-Amarna tablets, may be seen from their desperate efforts to rid themselves of the counter evidence afforded by the Song of Deborah. ‘Out of Machir,’ it is there said (Judg. v. 14), ‘came down lawgivers, and out of Zebulun they that handle the stylus of the scribe.’ In defiance of philology, the latter words were translated ‘the baton of the marshal’! But sopher is ‘scribe’ here, as elsewhere in Hebrew; and his shebhet, or ‘stylus,’ is often depicted on the Egyptian monuments. In the Blessing of Jacob, which is allowed to be of early date, like the Song of Deborah, the shebhet is associated with the m’khoqêq or ‘lawgiver’ (Gen. xlix. 10). The word m’khoqêq, however, meant literally an ‘engraver,’ one who did not write his laws on papyrus or parchment, as the scribe would have done, but caused them to be engraved on stone, or metal, or clay.[[134]] In either case they were written down; and written documents are thus implied not only in the expression ‘the stylus of the scribe,’ but in the word ‘lawgiver’ as well. The Song of Deborah, by general consent, belongs to the oldest period of the Hebrew settlement in Palestine; it belongs also to an age of anarchy and national depression; and, nevertheless, it is already acquainted with Israelitish lawgivers and scribes, with engravers of the laws and handlers of the pen. It is little wonder that its evidence was explained away in accordance with a method which is neither scientific nor historical.
As historians, we are bound to admit the antiquity of writing in Israel. The scribe goes back to the Mosaic age, like the lawgiver, and in this respect, therefore, the Israelites formed no exception to the nations among whom they lived. They were no islet of illiterate barbarism in the midst of a great sea of literary culture and activity, nor were they obstinately asleep while all about them were writing and reading.
But even the analysis of the Hexateuchal critics fails to stand the test of archæological discovery. Nowhere does there seem to be clearer evidence of the documentary hypothesis than in the story of the Deluge. Here the combination of a Yahvistic and an Elohistic narrative seems to force itself upon the attention of the reader, and the advocates of the disintegration theory have triumphantly pointed to the internal contradictions and inconsistencies of the story in support of their views. If anywhere, here, at any rate, the external testimony of archæeology ought to be given on the side of modern criticism.
And yet it is not. It so happens that among the fragments of ancient Babylonian epic and legend which have come down to us is a long poem in twelve books, composed in the age of Abraham, or earlier, by a certain Sin-liqi-unnini, and recounting the adventures of the Chaldæan hero Gilgames. It is based on older materials, and is, in fact, the last note and final summing-up of Chaldæan epic song. Older poems have been incorporated into it, and the epic itself has been artificially moulded upon an astronomical plan. Its twelve books, in each of which a new adventure of its hero is recorded, correspond with the twelve signs of the zodiac, and the months of the year that were named after them. The eleventh month was presided over by Aquarius, and was the month of ‘the Curse of Rain’; into the eleventh book of the poem, accordingly, there has been introduced the episode of the Deluge.