Chapter III: Introduction (1)

§ 1. _Introductory: Canonical position of the book
――its general scope――and title._

The Book of Genesis (on the title see at the end of this §) forms the opening section of a comprehensive historical work which, in the Hebrew Bible, extends from the creation of the world to the middle of the Babylonian Exile (2 Kings 25³⁰). The tripartite division of the Jewish Canon has severed the later portion of this work (Joshua‒Kings), under the title of the “Former Prophets” (הנביאים הראשונים), from the earlier portion (Genesis‒Deuteronomy), which constitutes the Law (התורה),――a seemingly artificial bisection which results from the Tôrāh having attained canonical authority soon after its completion in the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, while the canonicity of the Prophetical scriptures was not recognised till some centuries later.¹ How soon the division of the Tôrāh into its five books (חמשה חומשי התורה: ‘the five fifths of the Law’) was introduced we do not know for certain; but it is undoubtedly ancient, and in all probability is due to the final redactors of the Pentateuch.² In the case of Genesis, at all events, the division is obviously appropriate. Four centuries of complete silence lie between its close and the beginning of Exodus, where we enter on the history of a nation as contrasted with that of a family; and its prevailing character of _individual biography_ suggests that its traditions are of a different quality, and have a different origin, from the _national_ traditions preserved in Exodus and the succeeding books. Be that as it may, Genesis is a unique and well-rounded whole; and there is no book of the Pentateuch, except Deuteronomy, which so readily lends itself to monographic treatment.

¹ See Ryle, _Canon of the Old Testament_, chapters iv. v.;
Wildeboer, _Origin of the Canon of the Old Testament_², 27
ff., 101 ff.; Buhl, _Kanon und Text des Alten Testaments_,
8 f.; Budde, article ‘Canon,’ in _Encyclopædia Biblica_, and
Woods, ‘Old Testament Canon,’ in _A Dictionary of the Bible_.

² Kuenen, _Onderzoek_, i. pages 7, 331. The earliest external
evidence of the fivefold division is Philo, _De Abrahamo_,
_initial_ (Τῶν ἱερῶν νόμων ἐν πέντε βίβλοις ἀναγραφέντων, ἡ
πρώτη καλεῖται καὶ ἐπιγράφεται Γένεσις, ἀπὸ τῆς τοῦ κόσμου
γενέσεως, ἣν ἐν ἀρχῇ περιέχει, λαβοῦσα τὴν πρόσρησιν· καίτοι
κτλ.); Josephus, _Against Apion_ i. 39. It is found, however,
in _The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch_ and LXX, and
seems to have served as a model for the similar division of
the Psalter. That it follows natural lines of cleavage is
shown by Kuenen (_ll.cc._); and there is no reason to doubt
that it is as old as the canonisation of the Tôrāh.

Genesis may thus be described as the Book of Hebrew Origins. It is a peculiarity of the Pentateuch that it is Law-book and history in one: while its main purpose is legislative, the laws are set in a framework of narrative, and so, as it were, are woven into the texture of the nation’s life. Genesis contains a minimum of legislation; but its narrative is the indispensable prelude to that account of Israel’s formative period in which the fundamental institutions of the theocracy are embedded. It is a collection of traditions regarding the immediate ancestors of the Hebrew nation (chapters 12‒50), showing how they were gradually isolated from other nations and became a separate people; and at the same time how they were related to those tribes and races most nearly connected with them. But this is preceded (in chapters 1‒11) by an account of the origin of the world, the beginnings of human history and civilisation, and the distribution of the various races of mankind. The whole thus converges steadily on the line of descent from which Israel sprang, and which determined its providential position among the nations of the world. It is significant, as already observed, that the narrative stops short just at the point where family history ceases with the death of Joseph, to give place after a long interval to the history of the nation.

_The Title._――The name ‘Genesis’ comes to us through the
Vulgate from the LXX, where the usual superscription is simply
Γένεσις (LXX{EM, most cursives}), rarely ἡ γένεσις (LXX⁷²),
a contraction of Γένεσις κόσμου (LXXᴬ ¹²¹). An interesting
variation in one cursives. (129)――ἡ βίβλος τῶν γενέσεων (compare
2⁴ 5¹)¹――might tempt one to fancy that the scribe had in view
the series of _Tôlĕdôth_ (see page xxxiv), and regarded the book
as the book of origins in the wide sense expressed above. But
there is no doubt that the current Greek title is derived from
the opening theme of the book, the creation of the world.²――So
also in Syriac (_sephrå dabrīthå_), Theodore of Mopsuestia (ἡ
κτίσις), and occasionally among the Rabbis (ספר יצירה).――The common
Jewish designation is בראשית, after the first word of the book
(Origen, in Eusebius _Church History_, vi. 25; Jerome, _Prologus
Galeatus_, and _Questions on Genesis_); less usual is חומש ראשון,
‘the first fifth.’――Only a curious interest attaches to the
unofficial appellation ספר הישר (based on 2 Samuel 1¹⁸) or ס׳ הישרים
(the patriarchs) see Carpzov, _Introductio in libros canonicos
bibliorum Veteris Testamenti_ page 55; Delitzsch, 10.

¹ _Cambridge Septuagint_, page 1.

² See the quotation from Philo on page i above; and compare
Pseudo-Athanasius _De synposis scripturæ sacræ_ 5.

_A._ NATURE OF THE TRADITION.

§ 2. _History or Legend?_

The first question that arises with regard to these ‘origins’ is whether they are in the main of the nature of history or of legend, ――whether (to use the expressive German terms) they are _Geschichte_, things that happened, or _Sage_, things said. There are certain broad differences between these two kinds of narrative which may assist us to determine to which class the traditions of Genesis belong.

History in the technical sense is an authentic record of actual events based on documents contemporary, or nearly contemporary, with the facts narrated. It concerns itself with affairs of state and of public interest,――with the actions of kings and statesmen, civil and foreign wars, national disasters and successes, and such like. If it deals with contemporary incidents, it consciously aims at transmitting to posterity as accurate a reflexion as possible of the real course of events, in their causal sequence, and their relations to time and place. If written at a distance from the events, it seeks to recover from contemporary authorities an exact knowledge of these circumstances, and of the character and motives of the leading personages of the action.――That the Israelites, from a very early period, knew how to write history in this sense, we see from the story of David’s court in 2 Samuel and the beginning of 1 Kings. There we have a graphic and circumstantial narrative of the struggles for the succession to the throne, free from bias or exaggeration, and told with a convincing realism which conveys the impression of first-hand information derived from the evidence of eye-witnesses. As a specimen of pure historical literature (as distinguished from mere annals or chronicles) there is nothing equal to it in antiquity, till we come down to the works of Herodotus and Thucydides in Greece.

Quite different from historical writing of this kind is the _Volkssage_, ――the mass of popular narrative _talk_ about the past, which exists in more or less profusion amongst all races in the world. Every nation, as it emerges into historical consciousness, finds itself in possession of a store of traditional material of this kind, either circulating among the common people, or woven by poets and singers into a picture of a legendary heroic age. Such legends, though they survive the dawn of authentic history, belong essentially to a pre-literary and uncritical stage of society, when the popular imagination works freely on dim reminiscences of the great events and personalities of the past, producing an amalgam in which tradition and phantasy are inseparably mingled. Ultimately they are themselves reduced to writing, and give rise to a species of literature which is frequently mistaken for history, but whose true character will usually disclose itself to a patient and sympathetic examination. While legend is not history, it has in some respects a value greater than history. For it reveals the soul of a people, its instinctive selection of the types of character which represent its moral aspirations, its conception of its own place and mission in the world; and also, to some indeterminate extent, the impact on its inner life of the momentous historic experiences in which it first woke up to the consciousness of a national existence and destiny.¹

¹ Compare Gordon, _Early Traditions_, 84: “As a real expression
of the living spirit of the nation, a people’s myths are the
mirror of its religious and moral ideals, aspirations, and
imaginations.”

In raising the question to which department of literature the narratives of Genesis are to be referred, we approach a subject beset by difficulty, but one which cannot be avoided. We are not entitled to assume _a priori_ that Israel is an exception to the general rule that a legendary age forms the ideal background of history: whether it be so or not must be determined on the evidence of its records. Should it prove to be no exception, we shall not assign to its legends a lower significance as an expression of the national spirit than to the heroic legends of the Greek or Teutonic races. It is no question of the truth or religious value of the book that we are called to discuss, but only of the kind of truth and the particular mode of revelation which we are to find in it. One of the strangest theological prepossessions is that which identifies revealed truth with matter-of-fact accuracy either in science or in history. Legend is after all a species of poetry, and it is hard to see why a revelation which has freely availed itself of so many other kinds of poetry――fable, allegory, parable――should disdain that form of it which is the most influential of all in the life of a primitive people. As a vehicle of religious ideas, poetic narrative possesses obvious advantages over literal history; and the spirit of religion, deeply implanted in the heart of a people, will so permeate and fashion its legendary lore as to make it a plastic expression of the imperishable truths which have come to it through its experience of God.

The legendary aspect of the Genesis traditions appears in
such characteristics as these: (1) The narratives are the
literary deposit of an oral tradition which, if it rests on
any substratum of historic fact, must have been carried down
through many centuries. Few will seriously maintain that the
patriarchs prepared written memoranda for the information of
their descendants; and the narrators nowhere profess their
indebtedness to such records. Hebrew historians freely refer to
written authorities where they used them (Kings, Chronicles);
but no instance of this practice occurs in Genesis. Now oral
tradition is the natural vehicle of popular legend, as writing
is of history. And all experience shows that apart from written
records there is no exact knowledge of a remote past. Making
every allowance for the superior retentiveness of the Oriental
memory, it is still impossible to suppose that an accurate
recollection of bygone incidents should have survived twenty
generations or more of oral transmission. Nöldeke, indeed, has
shown that the historical memory of the pre-Islamic Arabs was so
defective that all knowledge of great nations like the Nabatæans
and Thamudites had been lost within two or three centuries.¹ (2)
The literary quality of the narratives stamps them as products
of the artistic imagination. The very picturesqueness and
truth to life which are sometimes appealed to in proof of their
historicity are, on the contrary, characteristic marks of legend
(Dillmann, 218). We may assume that the scene at the well of
Ḥarran (chapte 24) actually took place; but that the description
owes its graphic power to a reproduction of the exact words
spoken and the precise actions performed on the occasion
cannot be supposed; it is due to the revivifying work of
the imagination of successive narrators. But imagination,
uncontrolled by the critical faculty, does not confine itself to
restoring the original colours of a faded picture; it introduces
new colours, insensibly modifying the picture till it becomes
impossible to tell how much belongs to the real situation and
how much to later fancy. The clearest proof of this is the
existence of parallel narratives of an event which can only
have happened once, but which emerges in tradition in forms so
diverse that they may even pass for separate incidents (12¹⁰ ᶠᶠᐧ
∥ 20¹ ᶠᶠᐧ ∥ 26⁶ ᶠᶠᐧ; 16. ∥ 21⁸ ᶠᶠᐧ; 15. ∥ 17, etc.).――(3) The
subject-matter of the tradition is of the kind congenial to
the folk-tale all the world over, and altogether different
from transactions on the stage of history. The proper theme of
history, as has been said, is great public and political events;
but legend delights in _genre_ pictures, private and personal
affairs, trivial anecdotes of domestic and everyday life, and so
forth,――matters which interest the common people and come home
to their daily experience. That most of the stories of Genesis
are of this description needs no proof; and the fact is very
instructive.² A real history of the patriarchal period would
have to tell of migrations of peoples, of religious movements,
probably of wars of invasion and conquest; and accordingly
most modern attempts to vindicate the historicity of Genesis
proceed by way of translating the narratives into such terms
as these. But this is to confess that the narratives themselves
are not history. They have been simplified and idealised to suit
the taste of an unsophisticated audience; and in the process
the strictly historic element, down to a bare residuum, has
evaporated. The single passage which preserves the ostensible
appearance of history in this respect is chapter 14; and
that chapter, which in any case stands outside the circle
of patriarchal tradition, has difficulties of its own which
cannot be dealt with here (see page 271 ff.).――(4) The final
test――though to any one who has learned to appreciate the spirit
of the narratives it must seem almost brutal to apply it――is the
hard matter-of-fact test of self-consistency and credibility.
It is not difficult to show that Genesis relates incredibilities
which no reasonable appeal to miracle will suffice to remove.
With respect to the origin of the world, the antiquity of man
on the earth, the distribution and relations of peoples, the
beginnings of civilisation, etc., its statements are at variance
with the scientific knowledge of our time;³ and no person of
educated intelligence accepts them in their plain natural sense.
We know that angels do not cohabit with mortal women, that the
Flood did not cover the highest mountains of the world, that
the ark could not have accommodated all the species of animals
then existing, that the Euphrates and Tigris have not a common
source, that the Dead Sea was not first formed in the time of
Abraham, etc. There is admittedly a great difference in respect
of credibility between the primæval (chapters 1‒11) and the
patriarchal (12‒50) traditions. But even the latter, when taken
as a whole, yields many impossible situations. Sarah was more
than sixty-five years old when Abraham feared that her beauty
might endanger his life in Egypt; she was over ninety when the
same fear seized him in Gerar. Abraham at the age of ninety-nine
laughs at the idea of having a son; yet forty years later
he marries and begets children. Both Midian and Ishmael were
grand-uncles of Joseph; but their descendants appear as tribes
trading with Egypt in his boyhood. Amalek was a grandson of
Esau; yet the Amalekites are settled in the Negeb in the time
of Abraham. ⁴――It is a thankless task to multiply such examples.
The contradictions and violations of probability and scientific
possibility are intelligible, and not at all disquieting, in a
collection of legends; but they preclude the supposition that
Genesis is literal history.

¹ _Amalekiter_, page 25 f.

² Compare Winckler, _Abraham als Babylonier_, 7.

³ See Driver, _The Book of Genesis with Introduction and
Notes_, XXXI ff. 19 ff.

⁴ See Reuss, _Geschichte der Heiligen Schriften Alten
Testaments_², 167 f.

It is not implied in what has been said that the tradition is destitute of historical value. History, legendary history, legend, myth, form a descending scale, with decreasing emphasis on the historical element, and the lines between the first three are vague and fluctuating. In what proportions they are combined in Genesis it may be impossible to determine with certainty. But there are three ways in which a tradition mainly legendary may yield solid historical results. In the first place, a legend may embody a more or less exact recollection of the fact in which it originated. In the second place, a legend, though unhistorical in form, may furnish material from which history can be extracted. Thirdly, the collateral evidence of archæology may bring to light a correspondence which gives a historical significance to the legend. How far any of these lines can be followed to a successful issue in the case of Genesis, we shall consider later (§ 4), after we have examined the obviously legendary motives which enter into the tradition. Meanwhile the previous discussion will have served its purpose if any readers have been led to perceive that the religious teaching of Genesis lies precisely in that legendary element whose existence is here maintained. Our chief task is to discover the meaning of the legends as they stand, being assured that from the nature of the case these religious ideas were operative forces in the life of ancient Israel. It is a suicidal error in exegesis to suppose that the permanent value of the book lies in the residuum of historic fact that underlies the poetic and imaginative form of the narratives.¹

¹ On various points dealt with in this paragraph, see the
admirable statement of A. R. Gordon, _Early Traditions of
Genesis_, pages 76‒92.

§ 3. _Myth and legend――Foreign myths
――Types of mythical motive._

1. Are there myths in Genesis, as well as legends? On this question there has been all the variety of opinion that might be expected. Some writers, starting with the theory that mythology is a necessary phase of primitive thinking, have found in the Old Testament abundant confirmation of their thesis.¹ The more prevalent view has been that the mythopœic tendency was suppressed in Israel by the genius of its religion, and that mythology in the true sense is unknown in its literature. Others have taken up an intermediate position, denying that the Hebrew mind produced myths of its own, but admitting that it borrowed and adapted those of other peoples. For all practical purposes, the last view seems to be very near the truth.

¹ Goldziher, _Der Mythos bei den Hebräern_ (1876).

For attempts to discriminate between myth and legend, see
Tuch, pages I‒XV; Gunkel, page XVII; Höffding, _Philosophy
of Religion_ (Engish translation), 199 ff.; Gordon, 77 ff.;
Procksch, _Das nordhebräische Sagenbuch_, I. etc.――The
practically important distinction is that the legend does,
and the myth does not, start from the plane of historic fact.
The myth is properly a story of the gods, originating in an
impression produced on the primitive mind by the more imposing
phenomena of nature, while legend attaches itself to the
personages and movements of real history. Thus the Flood-story
is a legend if Noah be a historical figure, and the kernel of
the narrative an actual event; it is a myth if it be based on
observation of a solar phenomenon, and Noah a representative
of the sun-god (see page 180 f.). But the utility of this
distinction is largely neutralised by a universal tendency
to transfer mythical traits from gods to real men (Sargon of
Agadé, Moses, Alexander, Charlemagne, etc.); so that the most
indubitable traces of mythology will not of themselves warrant
the conclusion that the hero is not a historical personage.
――Gordon differentiates between spontaneous (nature) myths
and reflective (ætiological) myths; and, while recognising the
existence of the latter in Genesis, considers that the former
type is hardly represented in the Old Testament at all. The
distinction is important, though it may be doubted if ætiology
is ever a primary impulse to the formation of myths, and as a
parasitic development it appears to attach itself indifferently
to myth and legend. Hence there is a large class of narratives
which it is difficult to label either as mythical or as
legendary, but in which the ætiological or some similar motive
is prominent (see page xi ff.).

2. The influence of foreign mythology is most apparent in the primitive traditions of chapters 1‒11. The discovery of the Babylonian versions of the Creation- and Deluge-traditions has put it beyond reasonable doubt that these are the originals from which the biblical accounts have been derived (pages 45 ff., 177 f.). A similar relation obtains between the antediluvian genealogy of chapter 5 and Berossus’s list of the ten Babylonian kings who reigned before the Flood (page 137 f.). The story of Paradise has its nearest analogies in Iranian mythology; but there are faint Babylonian echoes which suggest that it belonged to the common mythological heritage of the East (page 90 ff.). Both here and in chapter 4 a few isolated coincidences with Phœnician tradition may point to the Canaanite civilisation as the medium through which such myths came to the knowledge of the Israelites.――All these (as well as the story of the Tower of Babel) were originally genuine myths――stories of the gods; and if they no longer deserve that appellation, it is because the spirit of Hebrew monotheism has exorcised the polytheistic notions of deity, apart from which true mythology cannot survive. The few passages where the old heathen conception of godhead still appears (1²⁶ 3²²ᐧ ²⁴ 6¹ ᶠᶠᐧ 11¹ ᶠᶠᐧ), only serve to show how completely the religious beliefs of Israel have transformed and purified the crude speculations of pagan theology, and adapted them to the ideas of an ethical and monotheistic faith.

The naturalisation of Babylonian myths in Israel is conceivable
in a variety of ways; and the question is perhaps more
interesting as an illustration of two rival tendencies in
criticism than for its possibilities of actual solution. The
tendency of the literary school of critics has been to explain
the process by the direct use of Babylonian documents, and
to bring it down to near the dates of our written Pentateuch
sources.¹ Largely through the influence of Gunkel, a different
view has come to prevail, viz., that we are to think rather
of a gradual process of assimilation to the religious ideas
of Israel in the course of oral transmission, the myths having
first passed into Canaanite tradition as the result (immediate
or remote) of the Babylonian supremacy prior to the Tell-Amarna
period, and thence to the Israelites.² The strongest argument
for this theory is that the biblical versions, both of the
Creation and the Flood, give evidence of having passed through
several stages in Hebrew tradition. Apart from that, the
considerations urged in support of either theory do not
seem to me conclusive. There are no recognisable traces of a
specifically Canaanite medium having been interposed between the
Babylonian originals and the Hebrew accounts of the Creation and
the Flood, such as we may surmise in the case of the Paradise
myth. It is open to argue against Gunkel that if the process
had been as protracted as he says, the divergence would be much
greater than it actually is. Again, we cannot well set limits to
the deliberate manipulation of Babylonian material by a Hebrew
writer; and the assumption that such a writer in the later
period would have been repelled by the gross polytheism of the
Babylonian legends, and refused to have anything to do with
them, is a little gratuitous. On the other hand, it is unsafe to
assert with Stade that the myths could not have been assimilated
by Israelite theology before the belief in Yahwe’s sole deity
had been firmly established by the teaching of the prophets.
Monotheism had roots in Hebrew antiquity extending much further
back than the age of written prophecy, and the present form of
the legends is more intelligible as the product of an earlier
phase of religion than that of the literary prophets. But when
we consider the innumerable channels through which myths may
wander from one centre to another, we shall hardly expect to
be able to determine the precise channel, or the approximate
date, of this infusion of Babylonian elements into the religious
tradition of Israel.

¹ See Budde, _Die biblische Urgeschichte_, 1883), 515 f.;
Kuenen, _Theologisch Tijdschrift_, xviii. (1884), 167
ff.; Kosters, _i.b._ xix. (1885), 325 ff., 344; Stade,
_Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft_, (1895),
159 f., (1903), 175 ff.

² _Schöpfung und Chaos_ (1895), 143 ff.; _Genesis_² (1902),
64 f. Compare Driver, _The Book of Genesis with Introduction
and Notes_, 31.

It is remarkable that while the patriarchal legends exhibit
no traces of Babylonian mythology, they contain a few examples
of mythical narrative to which analogies are found in other
quarters. The visit of the angels to Abraham (see page 302 f.),
and the destruction of Sodom (page 311 f.), are incidents of
obviously mythical origin (stories of the gods); and to both,
classical and other parallels exist. The account of the births
of Esau and Jacob embodies a mythological motive (page 359),
which is repeated in the case of Zeraḥ and Pereẓ (chapter 38).
The whole story of Jacob and Esau presents several points of
contact with that of the brothers Hypsouranios (Šamem-rum)
and Usōos in the Phœnician mythology (Usōos = Esau: see pages
360, 124). There appears also to be a Homeric variant of the
incest of Reuben (page 427). These phenomena are among the most
perplexing which we encounter in the study of Hebrew tradition.¹
We can as yet scarcely conjecture the hidden source from which
such widely ramified traditions have sprung, though we may not
on that account ignore the existence of the problem. It would be
at all events a groundless anticipation that the facts will lead
us to resolve the patriarchs into mythological abstractions.
They are rather to be explained by the tendency already referred
to (page ix), to mingle myth with legend by transferring
mythical incidents to historic personages.

¹ See Gunkel, _Genesis übersetzt und erklärt_, page LVI.

3. It remains, before we go on to consider the historical elements of the tradition, to classify the leading types of mythical, or semi-mythical (page ix), motive which appear in the narratives of Genesis. It will be seen that while they undoubtedly detract from the literal historicity of the records, they represent points of view which are of the greatest historical interest, and are absolutely essential to the right interpretation of the legends.¹

¹ The enumeration, which is not quite exhaustive, is taken,
with some simplification, from Gunkel, _Genesis übersetzt
und erklärt_, page XVIII ff.

(a) The most comprehensive category is that of _ætiological_ or
_explanatory_ myths; _i.e._, those which explain some familiar
fact of experience by a story of the olden time. Both the
questions asked and the answers returned are frequently of the
most naïve and childlike description: they have, as Gunkel,
_Genesis übersetzt und erklärt_ has said, all the charm which
belongs to the artless but profound reasoning of an intelligent
child. The classical example is the story of Paradise and the
Fall in chapters 2, 3, which contains one explicit instance of
ætiology (2²⁴: why a man cleaves to his wife), and implicitly a
great many more: why we wear clothes and detest snakes, why the
serpent crawls on his belly, why the peasant has to drudge in
the fields, and the woman to endure the pangs of travail, etc.
(page 95). Similarly, the account of creation explains why there
are so many kinds of plants and animals, why man is lord of them
all, why the sun shines by day and the moon by night, etc.; why
the Sabbath is kept. The Flood-story tells us the meaning of
the rainbow, and of the regular recurrence of the seasons: the
Babel-myth accounts for the existing diversities of language
amongst men. Pure examples of ætiology are practically confined
to the first eleven chapters; but the same general idea pervades
the patriarchal history, specialised under the headings which
follow.

(b) The commonest class of all, especially in the patriarchal
narratives, is what may be called _ethnographic_ legends. It
is an obvious feature of the narratives that the heroes of them
are frequently personifications of tribes and peoples, whose
character and history and mutual relationships are exhibited
under the guise of individual biography. Thus the pre-natal
struggle of Jacob and Esau prefigures the rivalry of ‘two
nations’ (25²³); the monuments set up by Jacob and Laban mark
the frontier between Israelites and Aramæans (31⁴⁴ ᶠᶠᐧ); Ishmael
is the prototype of the wild Bedouin (16¹²), and Cain of some
ferocious nomad-tribe; Jacob and his twelve sons represent the
unity of Israel and its division into twelve tribes; and so on.
This mode of thinking was not peculiar to Israel (compare the
Hellen, Dorus, Xuthus, Aeolus, Achæus, Ion, of the Greeks);¹ but
it is one specially natural to the Semites from their habit of
speaking of peoples as _sons_ (_i.e._ members) of the collective
entity denoted by the tribal or national name (sons of Israel,
of Ammon, of Ishmael, etc.), whence arose the notion that these
entities were the real progenitors of the peoples so designated.
That in some cases the representation was correct need not be
doubted; for there are known examples, both among the Arabs and
other races in a similar stage of social development, of tribes
named after a famous ancestor or leader of real historic memory.
But that this is the case with all eponymous persons――_e.g._
that there were really such men as Jerahmeel, Midian, Aram,
Sheba, Amalek, and the rest――is quite incredible; and, moreover,
it is never true that the fortunes of a tribe are an exact copy
of the personal experiences of its reputed ancestor, even if
he existed. We must therefore treat these legends as symbolic
representations of the ethnological affinities between different
tribes or peoples, and (to a less extent) of the historic
experiences of these peoples. There is a great danger of driving
this interpretation too far, by assigning an ethnological value
to details of the legend which never had any such significance;
but to this matter we shall have occasion to return at a later
point (see page xix ff.).

¹ See Driver, _The Book of Genesis with Introduction and Notes_
112; Gordon, _The Early Traditions of Genesis_, 88.

(c) Next in importance to these ethnographic legends are the
_cult_-legends. A considerable proportion of the patriarchal
narratives are designed to explain the sacredness of the
principal national sanctuaries, while a few contain notices of
the origin of particular ritual customs (circumcision, chapter
17 [but compare Exodus 4²⁴ ᶠᶠᐧ]; the abstinence from eating the
sciatic nerve, 32³³). To the former class belong such incidents
as Hagar at Lahairoi (16), Abraham at the oak of Mamre (18),
his planting of the tamarisk at Beersheba (21³³), Jacob at
Bethel――with the reason for anointing the sacred stone, and the
institution of the tithe――(28¹⁰ ᶠᶠᐧ), and at Peniel (32²⁴ ᶠᶠᐧ);
and many more. The general idea is that the places were hallowed
by an appearance of the deity in the patriarchal period, or
at least by the performance of an act of worship (erection of
an altar, etc.) by one of the ancestors of Israel. In reality
the sanctity of these spots was in many cases of immemorial
antiquity, being rooted in the most primitive forms of Semitic
religion; and at times the narrative suffers it to appear that
the place was holy before the visit of the patriarch (see on
12⁶). It is probable that inauguration-legends had grown up at
the chief sanctuaries while they were still in the possession
of the Canaanites. We cannot tell how far such legends were
transferred to the Hebrew ancestors, and how far the traditions
are of native Israelite growth.

(d) Of much less interest to us is the _etymological_ motive
which so frequently appears as a side issue in legends of
wider scope. ♦Speculation on the meaning and origin of names
is fascinating to all primitive peoples; and in default of a
scientific philology the most fantastic explanations are readily
accepted. That it was so in ancient Israel could be easily
shown from the etymologies of Genesis. Here, again, it is just
conceivable that the explanation given may occasionally be
correct (though there is hardly a case in which it is plausible);
but in the majority of cases the real meaning of the name stands
out in palpable contradiction to the alleged account of its
origin. Moreover, it is not uncommon to find the same name
explained in two different ways (many of Jacob’s sons, chapter
30), or to have as many as three suggestions of its historic
origin (Ishmael, 16¹¹ 17²⁰ 21¹⁷; Isaac, 17¹⁷ 18¹² 21⁹). To claim
literal accuracy for incidents of this kind is manifestly futile.

♦ “Speculalation” replaced with “Speculation”

(e) There is yet another element which, though not mythical or
legendary, belongs to the imaginative side of the legends, and
has to be taken account of in interpreting them. This is the
element of _poetic idealisation_. Whenever a character enters
the world of legend, whether through the gate of history or
through that of ethnographic personification, it is apt to be
conceived as a type; and as the story passes from mouth to mouth
the typical features are emphasised, while those which have
no such significance tend to be effaced or forgotten. Then
the dramatic instinct comes into play――the artistic desire
to perfect the story as a lifelike picture of human nature in
interesting situations and action. To see how far this process
may be carried, we have but to compare the conception of Jacob’s
sons in the Blessing of Jacob (chapter 49) with their appearance
in the younger narratives of Joseph and his brethren. In the
former case the sons are tribal personifications, and the
characters attributed to them are those of the tribes they
represent. In the latter, these characteristics have almost
entirely disappeared, and the central interest is now the pathos
and tragedy of Hebrew family life. Most of the brothers are
without character or individuality; but the accursed Reuben
and Simeon are respected members of the family, and the ‘wolf’
Benjamin has become a helpless child whom the father will hardly
let go from his side. This, no doubt, is the supreme instance
of romantic or ‘novelistic’ treatment which the book contains;
but the same idealising tendency is at work elsewhere, and must
constantly be allowed for in endeavouring to reach the historic
or ethnographic basis from which the legends start.

§ 4. _Historical value of the tradition._

It has already been remarked (page vii) that there are three chief ways in which an oral, and therefore legendary, tradition may yield solid historical results: _first_, through the retention in the popular memory of the impression caused by real events and personalities; _secondly_, by the recovery of historic (mainly ethnographic) material from the biographic form of the tradition; and _thirdly_, through the confirmation of contemporary ‘archæological’ evidence. It will be convenient to start with the last of these, and consider what is known about――

1. _The historical background of the patriarchal traditions._――The period covered by the patriarchal narratives¹ may be defined very roughly as the first half of the second millennium (2000‒1500) B.C. The upper limit depends on the generally accepted assumption, based (somewhat insecurely, as it seems to us) on chapter 14, that Abraham was contemporary with Ḫammurabi, the 6th king of the first Babylonian dynasty. The date of Ḫammurabi is probably _circa_ 2100 B.C.² The lower limit is determined by the Exodus, which is usually assigned (as it must be if Exodus 1¹¹ is genuine) to the reign of Merneptah of the Nineteenth Egyptian dynasty (_circa_ 1234‒1214 B.C.). Allowing a sufficient period for the sojourn of Israel in Egypt, we come back to about the middle of the millennium as the approximate time when the family left Palestine for that country. The Hebrew chronology assigns nearly the same date as above to Abraham, but a much earlier one for the Exodus (_circa_ 1490), and reduces the residence of the patriarchs in Canaan to 215 years; since, however, the chronological system rests on artificial calculations (see pages 135 f., 234), we cannot restrict our survey to the narrow limits which it assigns to the patriarchal period in Palestine. Indeed, the chronological uncertainties are so numerous that it is desirable to embrace an even wider field than the five centuries mentioned above.³

¹ The discussion in this section is confined to the patriarchal
tradition, because it is only with regard to it that the
question of essential historicity arises. Every one admits
that the pre-historic chapters (1‒11) stand on a different
footing, and there are few who would claim for them the
authority of a continuous tradition.

² The date here assigned to Ḫammurabi is based on the recent
investigations of Thureau-Dangin (_Journal des Savants_
[1908], 190 ff.; _Zeitschrift für Assyriologie_, xxi. [1908],
176 ff.), and Ungnad (_Orientalische Litteraturzeitung_
[1908], 13 ff.); with whom Poebel (_Zeitschrift für
Assyriologie_, xxi. 162 ff.) is in substantial agreement.
The higher estimates which formerly prevailed depended
on the natural assumption that the first three dynasties
of the Royal Lists (first published in 1880 and 1884)
reigned _consecutively_ in Babylon. But in 1907, L. W. King
(_Chronicles concerning early Babylonian Kings_) published
new material, which showed conclusively that the Second
dynasty, ruling over the ‘Country of the Sea,’ was at
least partly, if not wholly, contemporaneous with the First
and Third dynasties in Babylon. King himself and Meyer
(_Geschichte des Alterthums_², I. ii. 339 ff. [1909]) hold
that the Third (Kaššite) dynasty followed immediately on the
First; and that consequently the previous estimates of the
chronology of the First dynasty have to be reduced by the
total duration of the Second dynasty (368 years according
to List A). The scholars cited at the head of this note
consider, on the other hand, that the contemporaneousness
was only partial, and that there was an interval of 176
years between the close of the First dynasty and the
accession of the Third. The chief _data_ are these: King’s
new chronicle has proved beyond dispute (1) that Ilima-ilu,
the founder of the Second dynasty, was contemporary with
Samsu-iluna and Abi-ešu’, the 7th and 8th kings of the First
dynasty; and (2) that Ea-gâmil, the last king of the Second
dynasty, was an older contemporary of a certain Kaššite
(king?), Kaštiliaš. Now, Kaštiliaš is the name of the
3rd king of the Kaššite dynasty; and the question is whether
this Kaštiliaš is to be identified with the contemporary
of Ea-gâmil. Thureau-Dangin, etc., answer in the
affirmative, with the result stated above. King opposes the
identification, and thinks the close of the Second dynasty
coincides with a gap in the list of Kaššite kings (8th
to 15th), where the name of Kaštiliaš may have stood.
Meyer accepts the synchronism of Ea-gâmil with the third
Kaššite king; but gets rid of the interregnum by a somewhat
arbitrary reduction of the duration of the Second dynasty
to about 200 years. For fuller information, the reader is
referred to the lucid note in Driver, _The Book of Genesis
with Introduction and Notes_⁷ XXVII. ff. (with lists).――King
believes that his date for Ḫammurabi (_circa_ 1958‒1916)
facilitates the identification of that monarch with the
Amraphel of Genesis 14 (see page 257 f. below), by bringing
the interval between Abraham and the Exodus into nearer
accord with the biblical data; but in view of the artificial
character of the biblical chronology (_v.s._), it is
doubtful if any weight whatever can be allowed to this
consideration.

³ Thus the Exodus is sometimes (in defiance of Exodus 1¹¹) put
back to _circa_ 1450 B.C. (Hommel, _The Expository Times._,
x. [1899], 210 ff.; Orr, _The Problem of the Old Testament_,
422 ff.); while Eerdmans would bring it down to _circa_ 1125
B.C. (_Vorgeschichte Israels_, 74; _The Expositor_ 1908,
September, 204). Joseph is by some (Marquart, Winckler,
al.) identified with a minister of Amenophis IV. (_circa_
1380‒1360), by Eerdmans, _Alttestamentliche Studien_ with
a Semitic ruler at the very end of the Nineteenth dynasty
(_circa_ 1205). See page 501 f.

In the opinion of a growing and influential school of writers, this period of history has been so illumined by recent discoveries that it is no longer possible to doubt the essential historicity of the patriarchal tradition.¹ It is admitted that no external evidence has come to light of the existence of such persons as Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, or even (with the partial exception of Joseph) of men playing parts at all corresponding to theirs. But it is maintained that contemporary documents reveal a set of conditions into which the patriarchal narratives fit perfectly, and which are so different from those prevailing under the monarchy that the situation could not possibly have been imagined by an Israelite of that later age. Now, that recent archæology has thrown a flood of light on the period in question, is beyond all doubt. It has proved that Palestinian culture and religion were saturated by Babylonian influences long before the supposed date of Abraham; that from that date downwards intercourse with Egypt was frequent and easy; and that the country was more than once subjected to Egyptian conquest and authority. It has given us a most interesting glimpse from about 2000 B.C. of the natural products of Canaan, and the manner of life of its inhabitants (Tale of Sinuhe). At a later time (Tell-Amarna letters) it shows the Egyptian dominion threatened by the advance of Hittites from the north, and by the incursion of a body of nomadic marauders called Ḫabiri (see page 218). It tells us that Jakob-el (and Joseph-el?) was the name of a place in Canaan in the first half of the 15th century (pages 360, 389 f.), and that Israel was a tribe living in Palestine about 1200 B.C.; also that Hebrews (‛Apriw) were a foreign population in Egypt from the time of Ramses II. to that of Ramses IV. (Heyes, _Bibel und Ägypten: Abraham und seine Nachkommen in Ägypten_ 146 ff.; Eerdmans, _Alttestamentliche Studien_ 52 ff.; _The Expositor_ _l.c._ 197). All this is of the utmost value; and _if_ the patriarchs lived in this age, then this is the background against which we have to set their biographies. But the real question is whether there is such a correspondence between the biographies and their background that the former would be unintelligible if transplanted to other and later surroundings. We should gladly welcome any evidence that this is the case; but it seems to us that the remarkable thing about these narratives is just the absence of background and their general compatibility with the universal conditions of ancient Eastern life.² The case for the historicity of the tradition, based on correspondences with contemporary evidence from the period in question, appears to us to be greatly overstated.

¹ Jeremias, _Das Alte Testament im Lichte des alten
Orients_², 365: “Wir haben gezeigt, dass das Milieu
der Vätergeschichten in allen Einzelheiten zu den
altorientalischen Kulturverhältnissen stimmt, die uns die
Denkmäler für die in Betracht kommenden Zeit bezeugen.”

² A striking illustration of this washing out of historical
background is the contrast between the Genesis narratives
and the Egyptian Tale of Sinuhe, from which Jeremias, (_Das
Alte Testament im Lichte des alten Orients_², 298 ff.)
quotes at length in demonstration of their verisimilitude.
While the latter is full of detailed information about the
people among whom the writer lived, the former (except in
chapters 14. 34. 38) have hardly any allusions (24³ 37 ¹⁵ ᶠᶠᐧ)
to the aboriginal population of Palestine proper. Luther
(_Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstämme_, 156 f.) even
maintains that the original Yahwist conceived Canaan as at
this time an uninhabited country! Without going so far as
that, we cannot but regard the fact as an indication of the
process of abstraction which the narratives have undergone
in the course of oral transmission. Would they appeal to
the heart of the world as they do if they retained, to
the extent sometimes alleged, the signature of an obsolete
civilisation?

The line of argument that claims most careful attention is to
the following effect: Certain legal customs presupposed by the
patriarchal stories are now known to have prevailed (in Babylon)
in the age of Ḫammurabi; these customs had entirely ceased in
Israel under the monarchy; consequently the narratives could not
have been invented by legend-writers of that period (Jeremias,
_Das Alte Testament im Lichte des alten Orients_², 355 ff.). The
strongest case is the truly remarkable parallel supplied by Code
of Ḫammurabi 146 to the position of Hagar as concubine-slave
in chapter 16 (below, page 285). Here everything turns on the
probability that this usage was unknown in Israel in the regal
period; and it is surely pressing the _argumentum ex silentio_
too far to assert confidently that if it had been known it would
certainly have been mentioned in the later literature. We must
remember that Genesis contains almost the only pictures of
intimate family life in the Old Testament, and that it refers
to many things not mentioned later simply because there was
no occasion to speak of them. Were twin-births peculiar to the
♦patriarchal period because two are mentioned in Genesis and
none at all in the rest of the Old Testament? The fact that
the custom of the concubine-slave has persisted in Mohammedan
countries down to modern times, should warn us against such
sweeping negations.――Again, we learn (_ib._ 358) that the
simultaneous marriage with two sisters was permitted by ancient
Babylonian law, but was proscribed in Hebrew legislation as
incestuous. Yes, but the law in question (Leviticus 18¹⁸) is
late; and does not its enactment in the Priestly-Code rather
imply that the practice against which it is directed survived
in Israel till the close of the monarchy?――The distinction
between the _mōhar_, or purchase price of a wife, and the gift
to the bride (_ib._), should not be cited: the _mōhar_ is an
institution everywhere prevailing in early pastoral societies;
it is known to Hebrew jurisprudence (Exodus 22¹⁶); its
name is not old Babylonian; and even its transmutation into
personal service is in accordance with Arab practice (page 383
below).¹――In short, it does not appear that the examples given
differ from another class of usages, “die nicht spezifisch
altbabylonisch sind, sondern auch spätern bez. intergentilen
Rechtszuständen entsprechen, die aber ... wenigstens teilweise
eine interessante Beleuchtung durch den Code Ḫammurabi erfahren.”
The “interessante Beleuchtung” will be freely admitted.

♦ “patriarchial” replaced with “patriarchal”

¹ See S. A. Cook, _Cambridge Biblical Essays_, 79 f.

Still less has the new knowledge of the _political_
circumstances of Palestine contributed to the direct elucidation
of the patriarchal tradition, although it has brought to
light certain facts which have to be taken into account in
interpreting that tradition. The complete silence of the
narratives as to the protracted Egyptian dominion over the
country is very remarkable, and only to be explained by a
fading of the actual situation from the popular memory during
the course of oral transmission. The existence of Philistines
in the time of Abraham is, so far as archæology can inform
us, a positive anachronism. On the whole it must be said that
archæology has in this region created more problems than it
has solved. The occurrence of the name Yaḳob-el in the time of
Thothmes III., of Asher under Seti I. and Ramses II., and of
Israel under Merneptah; the appearance of Hebrews (Ḫabiri?)
in Palestine in the 15th century, and in Egypt (‛Apriw?) from
Ramses II. to Ramses IV., present so many difficulties to
the adjustment of the patriarchal figures to their original
background. We do not seem as yet to be in sight of a historical
construction which shall enable us to bring these conflicting
data into line with an intelligible rendering of the Hebrew
tradition.

It is considerations such as these that give so keen an edge
to the controversy about the genuineness of chapter 14. That
is the only section of Genesis which seems to set the figure of
Abraham in the framework of world history. If it be a historical
document, then we have a fixed centre round which the Abrahamic
traditions, and possibly those of the other patriarchs as well,
will group themselves; if it be but a late imitation of history,
we are cast adrift, with nothing to guide us except an uncertain
and artificial scheme of chronology. For an attempt to estimate
the force of the arguments on either side we must refer to the
commentary below (page 271 ff.). Here, however, it is in point
to observe that even if the complete historicity of chapter 14
were established, it would take us but a little way towards the
authentication of the patriarchal traditions as a whole. For
that episode confessedly occupies a place entirely unique in
the records of the patriarchs; and all the marks of contemporary
authorship which it is held to present are so many proofs that
the remaining narratives are of a different character, and lack
that particular kind of attestation. The coexistence of oral
traditions and historic notices relating to the same individual
proves that the former rest on a basis of fact; but it does not
warrant the inference that the oral tradition is accurate in
detail, or even that it faithfully reflects the circumstances
of the period with which it deals. And to us the Abraham of oral
tradition is a far more important religious personality than
Abram the Hebrew, the hero of the exploit recorded in chapter 14.

2. _Ethnological theories._――The negative conclusion expressed above (page xvii f.) as to the value of ancient Babylonian analogies to the patriarchal tradition, depends partly on the assumption of the school of writers whose views were under consideration: viz., that the narratives are a transcript of actual family life in that remote age, and therefore susceptible of illustration from private law as we find it embodied in the Code of Ḫammurabi. It makes, however, little difference if for family relations we substitute those of clans and peoples to one another, and treat the individuals as representatives of the tribes to which Israel traced its origin. We shall then find the real historic content of the legends in migratory movements, tribal divisions and fusions, and general ethnological phenomena, which popular tradition has disguised as personal biographies. This is the line of interpretation which has mostly prevailed in critical circles since Ewald;¹ and it has given rise to an extraordinary variety of theories. In itself (as in the hands of Ewald) it is not necessarily inconsistent with belief in the individual existence of the patriarchs; though its more extreme exponents do not recognise this as credible. The theories in question fall into two groups: those which regard the narratives as ideal projections into the past of relations subsisting, or conceptions formed, after the final settlement in Canaan;² and those which try to extract from them a real history of the period before the Exodus. Since the former class deny a solid tradition of any kind behind the patriarchal story, we may here pass them over, and confine our attention to those which do allow a certain substratum of truth in the pictures of the pre-Exodus period.

¹ _History of Israel_ i. 363, 382, etc.

² So Wellhausen _Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels_⁶ 319 ff.
[English translation 318 ff.], _Israelitische und jüdische
Geschichte_ 11 ff.; Stade _Geschichte des Volkes Israel_,
i. 145 ff., _Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche
Wissenschaft_, i. 112 ff., 347 ff.

As a specimen of this class of theories, neither better nor
worse than others that might be chosen, we may take that of
Cornill. According to him, Abraham was a real person, who headed
a migration from Mesopotamia to Canaan about 1500 B.C. Through
the successive separations of Moab, Ammon, and Edom, the main
body of immigrants was so reduced that it might have been
submerged, but for the arrival of a fresh contingent from
Mesopotamia under the name Jacob (the names, except Abraham’s,
are all tribal or national). This reinforcement consisted
of four groups, of which the Leah-group was the oldest and
strongest. The tribe of Joseph then aimed at the hegemony, but
was overpowered by the other tribes, and forced to retire to
Egypt. The Bilhah-group, thus deprived of its natural support,
was assailed by the Leah-tribes led by Reuben; but the attempt
was foiled, and Reuben lost his birthright. Subsequently the
whole of the tribes were driven to seek shelter in Egypt, when
Joseph took a noble revenge by allowing them to settle by its
side in the frontier province of Egypt (_History of Israel_,
29 ff.).