Читать книгу Job and Solomon: Or, The Wisdom of the Old Testament - T. K. Cheyne - Страница 15

This is widely different, remarks Umbreit,^[69] from the question whether Job actually said and did all that is related of him in our book. It is scarcely necessary, he adds, in the present day to disprove the latter, but we have no reason to doubt the former (the theory as to the historical existence of a sort of Arabian king Priam, named Job). In truth, we have no positive evidence either for affirming or denying it, unless the ‘holy places,’ each reputed to be Job’s grave, may be mentioned in this connection. The allusion in Ezek. xiv. 14 to ‘Noah, Daniel, and Job,’ proves no more than that a tradition of some sort existed respecting the righteous Job during the Babylonian Exile: we cannot tell how much Ezekiel knew besides Job’s righteousness. In later times, Jewish students do appear to have believed that ‘Job existed;’ but the force of the argument is weakened by the uncritical character of the times, and the extreme form in which this belief was held by them. How early doubts arose, we know not. The authors of Tobit and Susanna may very likely have been only half-believers, since they evidently imitate the story of Job in their romantic compositions. At any rate, the often-quoted saying of Rabbi Resh Lakish, איוב לא היה ולא נברא אלא משל היה, ‘Job existed not, and was not created, but he is (only) a parable,’^[70] shows that even before the Talmud great freedom of speech prevailed among the Rabbis on such points. In Hai Gaon’s time (d. 1037), the saying quoted must have given offence to some, for this Rabbi not only appeals for the historical character of Job to the passage in Ezekiel, but wishes (on traditional authority) to alter the reading of Resh Lakish’s words, so as to read איוב לא היה ולא נברא אלא למשל, ‘Job existed not, and was not created, except to be a parable.’^[71] (See note 7, Appendix.)

The prevailing opinion among the Jews doubtless continued to be that the Book of Job was strictly historical, and Christian scholars (with the exception of Theodore—see Chap. XV.) found no reason to question this till Luther arose, with his genial, though unscientific, insistence on the right of questioning tradition. In his Tischreden Luther says, ‘Ich halte das Buch Hiob für eine wahre Historia; dass aber alles so sollte geschehen und gehandelt sein, glaube ich nicht, sondern ich halte, dass ein feiner, frommer, gelehrter Mann habe es in solche Ordnung bracht.’^[72] Poetically treated history—that is Luther’s idea, as it was that of Grotius after him, and in our own country of that morning-star of Biblical criticism, Bishop Lowth.^[73] It is acquiesced in by Schlottmann, Delitzsch, and Davidson, and with justice, provided it be clearly understood that no positive opinion can reasonably be held as to the historical origin of the tradition (Sage, Ewald) used by the author. I have said nothing of Spinoza and Albert Schultens. The former^[74] pronounces most unfavourably on the religious and poetical value of the book which he regards as a heathenish fiction, reminding us somewhat (see elsewhere) of the hasty and ill-advised Theodore of Mopsuestia. The latter^[75] actually defends the historical character both of the narratives and of the colloquies of Job in the strictest sense. Hengstenberg, alone perhaps among orthodox theologians, takes a precisely opposite view. Like Reuss and Merx, he regards the poem as entirely a work of imagination. We may be thankful for his protest against applying a prosaic standard to the poetical books of the Hebrew Canon. Those who do so, he remarks,^[76] ‘fail to observe that the book stands, not among historical, but among poetical books, and that it would betray a very low grade of culture, were one to depreciate imaginative as compared with historical writing, and declare it to be unsuitable for sacred Scripture.’

I entirely agree with the eminent scholar, whose unprogressive theology could not entirely extinguish his literary and philological sense. But I see no sufficient reason for adopting what in itself, I admit, would add a fresh laurel to the poet’s crown. Merx indeed assures us^[77] that the meaning of the name ‘Job’ is so redolent of allegory that it must be the poet’s own invention, especially as the name occurs nowhere else in the Old Testament. He adds that the story of Job is so closely connected with the didactic part of the book that it would be lost labour to separate the legendary from the new material. All was wanted; therefore all is fictitious. This is not, however, the usual course of procedure with poets whether of the East or of the West, whose parsimony in the invention of plots is well known. As for the name Job (Iyyób) it may no doubt be explained (from the Arabic) ‘he who turns to God,’^[78] and in other ways, but there is no evidence that the author thought of any meaning for it. When he does coin names (see Epilogue), there is no room for doubting their significance. Ewald may, certainly, have gone too far in trying to recover the traditional element: how difficult it would be to do so with Paradise Lost, if we had not Genesis to help us! But the probability of the existence of a legend akin to the narrative in the Prologue, is shown by the parallels to it which survive, e.g. the touching Indian story of Harischandra,^[79] given by Dr. Muir in vol. 1. of his Sanskrit Texts. The resemblance may be slight and superficial, but the sudden ruin of a good man’s fortunes is common to both stories. Had we more knowledge of Arabic antiquity, we should doubtless find a more valuable parallels.^[80]

The story of Job had a special attraction for Mohammed, who enriched it (following the precedent of the Jewish Haggada) with a fresh detail (Korán, xxxviii. 40). To him, as well as to St. James, Job was an example of ‘endurance.’ The dialogue between Allah and Eblis in Korán, xv. 32-42, may perhaps have been suggested by the Prologue of our poem.

‘Did then, Job really live?’ That for which we most care comes not from ‘Tradition, Time’s suspected register,’^[81] but from an unnamed poet, who embellished tradition partly from imagination, partly (see next section) from the rich and varied stores of his own experience.