place which must for ever remain matter of conjecture, "Oh that I knew where to find Him, But I go to the east, and He is not there; heavy upon his soul the weight of the modern phase of the same mystery which tortured the ancient patriarch, thus describes his faith in doubt : "I falter where I firmly trod, in the obscurity surrounding this mysterious poem more than compensates for the fruitless expenditure of all the research that has been brought to the question. That criticism should be unable to confine the possible production of the work within narrower limits than the patriarchal age at one extreme, and the post-exile times at the other, is a result entirely suitable to its character and subject. For it presents man in a situation at once the most profoundly and most universally poetic. The struggle which the human soul, conscious of the nobility and happiness of righteous conduct, maintains against unseen powers which every day, whether for good or ill, seem to contradict his conviction, and give | And to-day one of our greatest modern poets, feeling the lie to his highest aspiration, has at all times profoundly interested thoughtful minds, and has been the fruitful mother of all noble philosophy and all noble song. One noble utterance for this sublime protest of the moral sense of man was found in Greek tragedy, which depicts freedom in battle with necessity. But the poem of Job contains its sublimest expression. It is an appeal to God against the contradictions which man discovers amid the works of God. It is the most magnificent protest ever uttered against the shallow interpretation of these contradictions, which make of God's absence condemnation and of His silence a reproof. That Job did not succeed in solving the problems presented by the spectacle of suffering goodness does not diminish either the interest or the value of the poem. Their very statement shows how the world was being guided on to the revelation of the Cross, where the darkness and perplexity were only not removed, because it is so much more noble and divine and beautiful, that man should live amid them bravely, doubt with sincerity, and believe with strength. And this statement, under such a mystery, by an unknown author, and at a time and Jewish thought and custom, could not have been presented to a (2.) The work belongs to the school of literature that arose in Solomon's court, and was patronised by him; the school which produced the Book of Proverbs. (Cf. Prov. i.-ix. with many parts of Job, especially the description of wisdom, Prov. viii, 25, sq.; Job xxviii. 12, sq. Cf. also the Book of Job with the "Words of Agur.") (3.) Job is represented as "greatest of the Beni-kedem, 'children of the East," with whose wisdom that of Solomon is expressly compared (1 Kings iv. 30). The Idumæan tribe Teman, to which Eliphaz belonged, was especially celebrated for this "wisdom" (Jer. xlix. 7, &c.). (4.) Many of the natural descriptions of the book imply a familiarity with other countries and their products, such as was created by the commercial dealings of the Solomonic period. Such are the descriptions of the horse, crocodile, peacock, the allusions to "the gold of Ophir," pearls, &c., and the general acquaintance with Egypt and Arabia. (5.) The mention of the Chaldæans as a plundering tribe. (6.) The questions discussed in the poem are such as show themselves in the "Psalms of Asaph," and other writings of Solomon's or a later time, but not before. (7.) The general style and structure of the poem are too artistic and refined for an earlier age. Notice especially the regular parallelisms and the arrangement in strophes. (8.) The language is such as to induce the foremost scholars to bring down the work to an age as late at least as Solomon. The absence of all reference to the Mosaic law or ritual, as well as to the history of Israel, the argument on which a patriarchal date is chiefly founded, is not more remarkable than the same silence in Proverbs and several of the later Psalms. And falling with my weight of cares And faintly trust the larger hope." Surely when the ages are thus bridged over by feelings at once so profound and so permanent, we may rather rejoice that the book in the Bible which gives its fullest and finest expressions to these feelings should be surrounded by a mystery; that the grandest of all attempts to solve the insoluble problem, and justify the ways of God to man, should have been left as if in profound obscurity, "to teach us that it is no story of a single thing which happened once, but that it belongs to humanity itself, and is the drama of the trial of man, with Almighty God and the angels as spectators of it." It has been disputed whether the author of the Book of Job was a Hebrew or a native of the locality in which the scene of the poem is laid. But this locality itself has been the subject of interminable controversy. The land of Uz was very probably on the confines of Idumæa. The traces which connect the poem with Edom are too numerous to be accidental.' But it does not follow that, as some suppose, the author was an Idumæan. It is certain, however, that to understand the poem we must extend our view beyond the confines of Hebrew life and thought. There is nothing in it to recall the chosen people, with their exclusive religion, laws, and customs. The work is Semitic, not Hebrew. The life it breathes is that of the patriarchal chief. It moves among tents and flocks and herds, and the occupations and interests of free nomad existence. It has nothing 1 The appendix to the LXX. describes Uz (Abeiris) as on the borders of Idumæa and Arabia. With this agree the names Eliphaz, Teman, and perhaps Job, which have certainly an eth nological if not a geographical connection with Edom (cf. Gen. xxxvi. 10, 11, with Job ii. 11). Uz is mentioned in Jer. xxv. 90; Lam, iv. 21. J. G. Wetstein, in a valuable appendix to Delitzsch's commentary on Job, gives some strong reasons for preferring the traditional country of Job, the western corner of the Hauran, immediately east of the southern end of the Sea of Galilee. in common with the domestic life of the Jews. We are taken away from the people, and the thoughts among which the other Scriptures move, to the wild freedom of these "Children of the East," who wander to-day, as they have done for six thousand years, over the vast tracts of desert that hem in on three sides the narrow Land of Promise. "The poem of Job," says M. Renan, "may be regarded as the ideal of a Semitic poem." We could hardly have come to the consideration of the Book of Job without some notice of these preliminary inquiries. But there is another question more intimately connected with the poetical aspect of the book, which has given rise to discussion. It concerns the structure of the composition, about which there exists considerable variety of opinion. Some have called it an epic. There are certainly in it the elements which we connect with heroic poetry. There is a grandeur in the situations and in the passions brought into play, there is the loftiness of sentiment and language that belongs to the high themes of epic song. But the same elements enter into tragedy, and the form of the poem is so decidedly dramatic that we can hardly fail at first sight to arrange it in that class of works. There is a prologue in prose, which makes the reader acquainted with the situation in which the hero is placed, and introduces the persons who take the chief part in the story. The action, which is twofold, then begins with a monologue of the hero, which is followed by the controversy with the three friends. Each of these speaks three times' and receives three answers from Job, so that the dialogue arranges itself into three acts. Another long monologue from the chief personage seems to conclude the regular action. A new comer, not mentioned in the prologue nor otherwise introduced, then enters, and, like the chorus in a Greek play, exposes the errors and follies of the other speakers. Finally, God Himself appears as Judge of the combat to pronounce His decision; and with an epilogue in prose, giving the issue or catastrophe of the whole, the poem ends.3 2 Such is the form. The internal development is equally dramatic. There is not, indeed, a regular plot, and the dialogue proceeds without outward action or change of scene, like that in Greek drama. But Hebrew art has nothing to do with forms created by a people of different genius and later age. The long, sustained speeches, and the manner in which they are delivered, is as truly Oriental as the protracted signs of passionate grief with which the actors introduce themselves, and in a drama developed on Eastern soil might be as much expected. Nor does it detract from the dramatic character to say that the subject under discussion is philosophical in its nature, but does not advance with the poem. The action does not lie in the argument so much as in the feelings. The tragic interest is profound 1 With the exception of Zophar, who is silent when it is his turn to speak for the last time. Cf. Stanley, Lectures on the Jewish Church, second series, p. 245. * See Davidson's Introduction, ii. 178. and real throughout, but deepens as the dialogue proceeds. It adds to the dramatic feeling that this progress is unexpected, since the hero has already, before a word is spoken, been plunged into the lowest depth of suffering. The tragedy came with the rapid reverses which one after another, in quick succession, unexpected and undeserved, have prostrated him from the height of prosperity and happiness into the dust. A human soul under such conditions offers a subject worthy of the highest epic or dramatic genius. But a fresh and more cruel trial is prepared for Job. The three old friends who meant to console, become unconsciously his persecutors; and as the sufferer meets their accusations, now with indignant denial, now with eloquent appeal to God, now with a pathetic story of his own upright and innocent life, we feel that new elements of a profounder interest and keener tragic power are introduced. Job's friends, in deep alarm for him, connect his sufferings with a secret guilt. We know that his condition is due neither to his own guilt nor to that of those connected with him, but is a trial from which his character is to come forth bright and pure. They, however, are persuaded that he has sinned. The popular theory connects suffering with sin, and they feel constrained to uphold the orthodox belief. This brings a new trial on the sufferer by which fresh passions come into play, and fresh complications arise, and it is on Job's behaviour amid these that the chief interest turns. It is no abstract question which is debated, but one which involves the character and happiness of the chief actor, and the faith of all. At every turn we see personal feeling come into play. As the dialogue proceeds the entanglement becomes deeper, these feelings growing hotter and stronger. All is hastening to one end. Will the hero come out of all as from the fire of purification, upright as ever, but humbled and chastened even by the victory which he wins? A careful study even discloses signs of genuine action corresponding to the feelings excited. The men who had sat for seven long days, exhibiting their sympathy by the mute eloquence of Oriental grief, more than once make a show of leaving, the patriarch during the dialogues, or actually do move away, exasperated by his violent outbursts of indignation or scorn. See, for example, chap. vi. 29, where Job exclaims demand the trial which he is confident will approve his righteousness even before Him? "Oh that one would hear me, Behold my signature; let the Almighty reply. Let my adversary also write his indictment. I would wear it upon my shoulder, I would crown my forehead with it, I would render account of the number of my steps; I would go near him like a prince." I The concluding scene, when Jehovah, sending His awful voice from the darkness of the thunder-cloud, arraigns Job before Him 1 Job xxxi. 35-37. The allusion is to written law cases, which existed at an early time in Egypt. Job is ready to put his signature to his case, to all the words in which he has defended his innocence against his friends, and even against God, and wishes God to do the same. He would not be ashamed of it, but would display it everywhere with pride. (See Delitzsch and Renan in loc.). "Gird up thy reins like a man, I will ask thee, and answer thou me"— (Chap. xxxviii. 3) and the last broken speech of the hero, when, humbled and confused by the majesty of the utterances of the Most High, he can only repeat to himself the searching questions and solemn rebukes which he has heard, is full to overflowing with dramatic feeling and interest. Altogether, though the suggestion made by the great scholar Ewald, that the work was actually intended for theatrical representation, appears unnecessarily bold, there is every reason to class this wonderful work amid true dramatic poetry. It has passages which deserve the name of lyric, and its intention was doubtless didactic. But its true character is that of the Divine drama of the Hebrews. A BETWEEN THE BOOKS. BY THE REV. G. F. MACLEAR, D.D., HEAD MASTER OF KING'S COLLEGE SCHOOL. CHAPTER XIX. THE DEATH OF HEROD. ND now our chapters can no longer be said to relate so strictly to the period "Between the Books" of the Old and New Testament. We have already stepped across the threshold of the era of the latter. Apparently just before Herod left for Jericho, and while he was still residing in the magnificent palace he had built on Zien, his fears and suspicions were still further increased by the visit to his capital of certain magi from the East, bearing the strange intelligence that they had seen in the East the star of a new-born King of the Jews, and had come to worship Him.1 The inquiry respecting an hereditary King of the Jews roused the alarm of the Idumean tyrant, and, hastily convening an assembly of the chief priests and scribes, he inquired where, according to their prophetical books, the long-expected Messiah was to be born. Without any hesitation they pointed to the words of the prophet Micah, which declared that Bethlehem, in Judæa, was the favoured spot. Concealing his wicked intentions, the monarch therefore bade the magi repair to Bethlehem, bidding them let him know as soon as they had found the young Child, that he, too, might come and do Him reverence. Thus advised, the magi set out, and at Bethlehem they found "the young Child, and Mary His mother, and they fell down and worshipped Him."3 For true it was that while Herod's blood-stained reign was drawing near its close, and when, after a life of tyranny and usurpation, he was sinking "into the jealous decrepitude of his savage old age," a lowly Virgin had at Bethlehem brought "forth her first-born Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger.' 996 The advent of this true King of kings, "in great humility," had moved all heaven to its centre; and while Herod's palaces were the scenes of jealousies, suspicion, and murders, and his subjects heavenly song had floated over the hills of Bethlehem, were groaning under the yoke of his iron rule, the and shepherds keeping watch over their flocks had heard the words, breaking the stillness of the night, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men of good will."7 66 After they had offered their homage and their gifts to the heavenly Child, the magi would naturally have returned to Herod; but warned of God in a dream of peril awaiting them if they did so, they returned to of Herod assumed a more malignant aspect, and, unable their own land another way. Thus foiled, the jealousy to identify the royal Infant of the seed of David, he issued an edict that all the children of Bethlehem and its neighbourhood, from two years old and under, should be slain. His ruthless orders were carried out, and a wild wail of anguish arose from many a mother thus cruelly bereaved of her little ones. The murder of these innocents, which doubtless 5 Farrar's Life of Christ, i. 24. 6 Luke ii, 6, 7. 7 Luke ii. 14, èv úvoρúπois evdoxías, the reading of the best MSS. and the best versions. 8 Matt. ii. 16-18. Macrobius, Saturnal. ii. 4, says, "Augustus cum audisset, inter pueros, quos in Syria Herodes infra bimatum interfici jussit, filium quoque ejus occisum, ait, Melius est Herodis porcum (v) esse quam puerum (viov)." Though Macrobius is a late writer, about A.D. 400, and makes the mistake of supposing that the Massacre of the Innocents included that of an infant son of Herod, he used early materials, and "it is clear that the form in which he relates the bon mot of Augustus points to some dim reminiscence of this cruel slaughter." (Farrar's Life of Christ, i. 44; Rawlinson's Bampton Lectures, vii., n. 82.) was accomplished secretly, and under cover of night, is passed over in silence by Josephus. That it should have been so is not surprising. Compared with other deeds which Herod carried out or designed, the massacre of a few1 children in an unimportant village was almost insignificant. "Herod's whole career was red with the blood of murder. He had massacred priests and nobles; he had decimated the Sanhedrin; he had caused the high priest, his brother-in-law, the young and noble Aristobulus, to be drowned in pretended sport before his eyes; he had ordered the strangulation of his favourite wife, the beautiful Asmonean princess Mariamne, though she seems to have been the only human being whom he passionately loved. His sons Alexander, Aristobulus, and Antipater; his uncle Joseph; Antigonus and Alexander, the uncle and father of his wife; his mother-inlaw Alexandra; his kinsman Cortobanus; his friends Dositheus and Gadias were but a few of the multitudes who fell victims to his sanguinary, suspicious, and guilty terrors. His brother Pherôras and his son Archelaus barely and narrowly escaped execution by his orders. Neither the blooming youth of the prince Aristobulus, nor the white hairs of the king Hyrcanus, had protected them from his fawning and treacherous fury. Deaths by strangulation, deaths by burning, deaths by being cleft asunder, deaths by secret assassination, confessions forced by unutterable torture, acts of insolent and inhuman lust, mark the annals of a reign which was so cruel that, in the energetic language of the Jewish ambassadors to the Emperor Augustus, 'the survivors during his lifetime were even more miserable than the sufferers.' "'2 What was the massacre of these innocents among so many instances of the tyrant's cruelty and treachery? But though Josephus does not mention the event, he tells us of incidents which took place in this very year, B.C. 4, which prove how exactly in keeping the massacre was with the tyrant's character. While he was at Jericho, whither he would seem to have removed a few days after the massacre at Bethlehem, fresh symptoms of disaffection appeared amongst his subjects. Nothing he had done had irritated the stricter Jews more than the placing of a large golden eagle-the symbol of the power of Rome3-over the principal gate of the Temple. Two of the most eloquent of the expounders of the Law, Judas1 and Matthias, resolved to have it removed. Accordingly, emboldened by a sudden rumour that Herod was at the point of death, they instigated some daring youths to lower themselves from the roof, and cut down the offensive symbol with hatchets. 1 The number thus murdered could not have been very large under any circumstances. 2 Jos. Ant. xvii. 11, §2; Farrar's Life of Christ, i. 42, 43. 3 It has been conjectured that the insurrection which now broke out may have taken its rise from the recent census in Judæa. (Luke ii. 1; Wieseler, Chon. Syn. 84, 85; Lewin's Fasti Sacri, p. 124.) 4 Some would identify this Judas with the Theudas referred to by Gamaliel (Acts v. 36). Wieseler would identify Matthias with the Theudas of Gamaliel, suggesting that Matthias in Hebrew is equivalent to Theudas or Theodotus in Greek (Chronol. Synop., p. 91, E. T.). This bold defiance of Herod's authority was carried out in the full light of noonday, while many were in the Temple, and was quickly announced to the officer in command at Jerusalem, who captured forty of the insurgents, and instantly made a report to Herod. Herod ordered the prisoners, with Judas and Matthias, to be brought before him at Jericho. Thither he also summoned the chiefs of the nation, and, addressing them from his couch, reproached them bitterly for their ingratitude, and directed that Judas and Matthias, as instigators of the deed, should be burned alive at Jericho. The execution took place on the night of March 12, B.C. 4.6 A very few days afterwards Herod's disorder increased with the utmost violence. A slow fire seemed to consume his vitals; his appetite became ravenous, but he dared not gratify it, on account of dreadful pains and internal ulcers, which preyed on the lower parts of his body. Moreover, his difficulty of breathing increased, and violent spasms convulsed his frame, and imparted to his limbs a degree of supernatural strength. Thus he lay in the magnificent palace which he had built for himself under the palm-trees of Jericho, racked with pain, and tormented with thirst. Still cherishing hopes of recovery, he now caused himself to be conveyed across the Jordan to Callirrhoë, not far from the Dead Sea, hoping to obtain relief from its warm bituminous springs. But the use of the waters produced no effect, and by the advice of his physicians he was lowered into a vessel filled with oil, which almost killed him, and he despaired of life. He was now conveyed back to Jericho, and knowing that when he was gone none would shed a tear for him, he resolved that they should shed many for themselves. He ordered the chiefs of the nation, under pain of death, to assemble at Jericho. As they arrived they were shut up in the Hippodrome, and Herod charged Salome and Alexas, immediately upon his decease, to put them to death. Scarcely had he given these orders when a dispatch arrived from Rome, announcing the ratification by the emperor of the sentence pronounced upon Antipater. Thereupon the tyrant's desire for life instantly returned, but a paroxysm of racking pain coming on, he called for an apple and a knife, and in an unguarded moment tried to stab himself. cousin Achiab stayed his hand, and Antipater, hearing the clamour from a neighbouring apartment, and thirking his father was dead, made a determined effort to escape by bribing his guards. No sooner did Herod hear of this, than, though almost insensible, he raised His 5 Μέσης ἡμέρας . . . πολλῶν ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ διατριβόντων (Jos. Ant. xvii. 6, § 3). 6 The same night there was an eclipse of the moon, ka‹ ʼn reλývn de τỷ avτň vuкti èķéλitev (Jos. Ant. xvii. 6, § 4). It has been calculated by Kepler and Petavius; see Wieseler, Chron. Syn. i. 2, p. 56. 7 See the description (Jos. Ant. xvii. 6, §5). 8 The stream flows into the Dead Sea (Jos. Ant. xvii. 6, §5; B. J. i. 33, §5). Pliny describes it as "calidus fons medica salubritatis.” For a full description see Tristram's Land of Moab, pp. 285, 288. 9 Jos. Ant. xvii. 7. himself on his elbow,' and ordered one of the spear- | ing aromatic spices. Next came the body, covered with men to dispatch his son on the spot, Thus Antipater paid the penalty of his life of treachery and hypocrisy. Herod now once more amended his will, nominating his eldest son Archelaus as his successor on the throne, and appointing Herod Antipas tetrarch of Galilee and Peræa; Herod Philip tetrarch of Auranitis, Trachonitis, and Batanæa; and Salome mistress of Jamnia, Azotus, and some other towns. Five days more of excruciating agony remained for the miserable monarch, and then, "choking as it were with blood, devising massacres in its very delirium, the soul of Herod passed forth into the night." Archelaus at once assumed the direction of affairs at Jerusalem, and proceeded to give his father a magnificent funeral. First, clad in armour, advanced a numerous force of troops, with their generals and officers; then followed five hundred of Herod's domestics and freedmen, bear 1 Ανεβόησε τε ἀνατυψάμενας τὴν κεφαλὴν, καίπερ ἐν τῷ ὑστατῳ ὠν, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν ἀγκῶνὰ περίαρας ἑαυτον (Jos. Ant. xvii. 7). 2 Jos. Ant. xvii. 8, § 1. 3 Farrar's Life of Christ, i. 48. purple, with a diadem on the head, and a sceptre in the right hand, and lying on a bier of gold studded with precious stones. After the bier, which was surrounded by Herod's sons and relatives, came his body-guard; then his foreign mercenaries, men from Thrace, Germany, and Gaul, "whose stalwart and ruddy persons were at this time familiar in Jerusalem."4 In this order the procession advanced slowly from Jericho to Herodium, not far from Tekoa, a distance of about twenty-five miles, where the late monarch had erected a fortress.5 Here, in the tower-crowned citadel to which he had given his name, and not far from the spot where He was born whom the Idumæan king had sought to cut off with the innocents of Bethlehem, Herod was laid to rest. Comp. Jos. Ant. xvii. 8, §3; 4 Drew's Scripture Lands, p. 278. B. J. i. 33, § 9. 5 For a description of Herodium see Traill's Josephus, lxv.—Ixis. This square-shaped mountain east of Bethlehem was known in the Middle Ages by the name of the "Frank Mountain," from the baseless but not unnatural story that it was the last refuge of the Crusaders. (Stanley's Sinai and Palestine, p. 13.) BOOKS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. BY THE VERY REV. R. PAYNE SMITH, D.D. DEAN OF CANTerbury. HE prophet Amos is generally by the Fathers identified with the Amoz from whom Isaiah was descended, the difference of the spelling in the Hebrew, which is carefully preserved in our version, having been neglected in the Greek. Really, the rank and social position of Amos was quite different from that of Isaiah, and nothing can be more instructive than the contrast in external matters between these two men, equally commissioned to be the bearers of a Divine message. Isaiah was evidently a man of high training, a member of a literary caste, and regularly educated in all the learning of his time. Blessed, therefore, with every worldly advantage, his great abilities were fostered to the utmost, and at an early age had so developed that he was made the royal chronicler, and as such wrote "the acts of Uzziah, first and last." He was also almost in his boyhood appointed to the office of prophet by a vision of surpassing magnificence, and everything served to foreshow the coming greatness of the seer, in whom Hebrew prophecy reached its culmination. Amos, on the contrary, was but a herdsman, and in so humble a position that he was glad to increase his scanty means by scratching or puncturing the fruit of the sycomore-trees, which grow wild in the Tekoan desert. Without artificial irritation the sycomore fig is said not to ripen properly. Canon Tristram tells us in his Natural History of the Bible, p. 399, that this operation is performed just before the fruit is ripe, and that the object of it is to discharge the acrid juice, which, if not got rid of, renders the figs unpalatable. Such were, probably, "the very naughty figs which could not be eaten, they were so bad," to which Jeremiah (chap. xxiv. 2) compares Zedekiah and the people of Jerusalem. Dr. Tristram adds that the position of one who got his living by such means must have been very humble; but probably Amos only filled up spare time in this way. In our version the prophet is wrongly described as "a gatherer of sycomore fruit” (Amos vii. 14). his He further distinctly denies that he had been regularly educated for the prophetic office. "I was," he says, "no prophet, neither was I a prophet's son" (ibid.). Now to understand these words we must remember that the prophets formed an order, consisting mainly of men trained in schools regularly instituted for this purpose. When we read of prophets by fifties and hundreds, we are not to think of inspired men, on whom the Spirit of God rested in extraordinary measure. Rather, they were an irregular clergy, who formed no part of the Levitical institutions, to the letter of which they were constantly opposed, while endeavouring to raise the people to a higher degree of spirituality. Their existence was indeed assumed in the Law (Numb. xii. 6), but with the caution that the claim to be a prophet was not lightly to be conceded (Deut. xiii. 1; xviii. 22). But it was the prophet Samuel who introduced order and method into what had previously been confused and irregular. He added training and knowledge to the Divine impulse, and as the |