Fair to Look Upon
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Mary Belle Freeley >> Fair to Look Upon
And the maidens of Nahor went outside the city gates partly for the
same purpose, I suppose, as that for which the girls of other places
go to the parks and matinees nowadays, for it seems to have been a
notorious fact that had even spread to other countries, that the girls
of Nahor came down to the well in the blushing sunset, and that too,
without chaperon or duenna. And I suppose the young men went down too,
to flirt with the charming damsels, from the fact that the servant of
Abraham tarried there.
And Rebekah, stooping gracefully, filled her pitcher, swung it lightly
to her shoulder--and as the woman sometimes takes the initiative in an
affair of this kind--smiled upon the willing and ready-looking fellow;
not exactly at him, but as it were in his direction, you know; and he
caught the faint glint of sunshine on her lips, and then--but in the
witching hour when the twilight and sunlight kiss and part, after the
smile and look of recognition everyone knows what happens.
And he ran to her and said with the pleasing courtesy of a man of the
world:
"Let me, I pray thee, drink a little water of thy pitcher."
Then with the tact of a finished coquette, in three little words she
conveyed to him the flattering knowledge that she recognized in him an
embassador of power, wealth and luxury, by saying:
"Drink, my Lord."
After that they became acquainted in the most easy, off-hand manner,
without an introduction, and yet we are told to follow the example of
these pioneers of the race who were always "fair to look upon."
I never in my life heard priest or people condemning her for forming
the acquaintance of a stranger without an introduction; she was called
one of the "mothers in Israel," and even St. Paul, who was a regular
crank about the girls, classed her with the "holy women of old," which
proves he didn't know anything about her history or was playing upon
the ignorance of his hearers. She was a leader of the _ton_ in Israel,
and if in those days they did not banish her from good society, why
should we censure the same conduct when we are so much more
civilized, enlightened and liberal in our views?
And in an incredibly short space of time he adorned her with earrings
and bracelets, and she invited him home with her, and he actually went
and made it all right with her mother and big brother by making a
prepossessing exhibition of piety, for you remember how he told them
"he bowed down his head and worshipped the Lord."
He told them of Isaac, in whose name he sued for Rebekah's fair hand.
He didn't say that Isaac was handsome, virtuous, talented or
ambitious, but he said, "the Lord hath blessed my master and he is
very great; and he hath given him flocks and herds, and silver and
gold, and maid servants and men servants, and camels and asses," and
unto his son Isaac "hath he given all that he hath," for this astute
man of the world seemed to know that the surest and quickest way to
win a woman was to show her a golden pathway strewn with the gems of
power, luxury and ambition.
And the big brother did not pull out his watch, look at it in a
business-like way and say:
[Illustration: "LET ME, I PRAY THEE, DRINK A LITTLE WATER OF THY
PITCHER."]
"Rebekah, pack your trunk and be ready to take the 6:40 fast express."
And her mother did not smile and say, "we're so delighted and honored,
I'm sure. Of course she will go." Not at all. They knew better even in
those days than to try and coerce or coax a woman to do anything she
didn't want to do, and so they simply said:
"We will call the damsel and inquire at her mouth."
Then the servant brought forth jewels of silver and jewels of gold,
and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah; and he gave also to her brother
and to her mother precious things, and then we are naively told that
Rebekah said:
"I will go."
Rebekah was a woman of decision and knew a good thing when she saw it,
and so she did not wait to prepare a stunning trousseau or get out
wedding cards and invitations fine enough to make all the girls of
Nahor sigh in envy and admiration, but she departed at once. Now Isaac
was of a poetical nature, and sought the solitude of the fields at
eventide to meditate. Like most young men who have a love affair on
hand he wanted to be alone and dream dreams and see visions.
And, as good luck would have it, just at this sentimental and
opportune moment, Rebekah hove in sight.
And Isaac lifted up his eyes and beheld her; a woman with heaven in
her eyes, a mouth sweet enough to make a man forget everything but the
roses of life, and a form seductive enough to tempt the very gods from
on high.
[Illustration: (I will go.)]
And she beheld a man, young and strong and handsome, the touch of
whose hand opened the gates of glory to her soul, "and she became his
wife, and he loved her," thereby putting himself on record as the
first man in the world we have any sacred official notification of as
having loved his wife.
So the days and months, brightened by smiles and tarnished by tears,
dropped into the wreck-strewn, motionless ocean of the past, and in
the course of human events two little boys played marbles in the tent
of Isaac, and Rebekah scored the rather doubtful distinction of going
on record as the first woman who ever doubled expectations and
presented her husband with twins.
[Illustration: (Two little boys played marbles.)]
At this period the fair Rebekah begins to get in her work as a
disobedient wife, a deceitful, intriguing woman and
an-all-round-have-her-own-way variety of her sex.
"Isaac loved Esau, but Rebekah loved Jacob," and we conclude from
that, as well as from the actual facts in the case, that there were
domestic tornadoes, conjugal cyclones and general unpleasantness all
round. About this time there was another famine in the land and Isaac
and Rebekah (and others) went into the land of the Philistines to
dwell, and of course Rebekah's beauty attracted universal attention,
and the men of the place questioned Isaac about her and he replied
that she was his sister, as he said, "lest the men of the place should
kill me for Rebekah," because she _was_ fair to look upon.
In that age it appears when a man fell in love with a woman he killed
her husband, instead of hoodwinking and outwitting him as they do in
this progressive era, but I suppose in spite of the awful chance of
losing her husband by some sudden and tragic death, Rebekah slyly and
seductively smiled upon "the men of the place" from the fact that a
little farther on we read that the King issued a mandate, saying:
"He that toucheth this man or his wife shall surely be put to death."
The King knew that Isaac was favored of the Lord, and he was afraid of
some swift and condign punishment if Isaac became offended by the
amorous attentions of any of his subjects to Rebekah, so he gave the
order to the men.
You will readily discern by that command that he was a keen and
intelligent student of female character, and knew there was no use or
reason in appealing to her sense of justice, her obedience to, or
respect for law, or her regard for the "eternal fitness of things" in
a case of the affections, and so he appealed to the fear and obedience
of the men, for he realized that no man's pleading, no King's command,
no threats from heaven or fears of hell can stop a woman's coquetry.
A little farther on Esau went the way of all young men and married,
and worse than that he married Judith the daughter of a Hittite,
"which was a grief of mind unto Rebekah and Isaac."
We know that one of Rebekah's strongest points was putting herself on
record for doing something that no woman ever did before that we have
any authorized statement of, and she did it in this case by being the
first woman who hated her daughter-in-law.
[Illustration: (Esau cheated out of his blessing.)]
As we read on we find she was not the meek, submissive and obedient
wife we are told women should be.
She systematically and continually had her own way, in spite of
husband, sons, kings, men, God or angels.
[Illustration: "AND REBEKAH WAS--A WOMAN."]
We discover that by a succession of deceptions, tricks and chicanery
she cheated Esau out of his blessing, obtained it for Jacob, and
deceived and deluded her dying husband, all at one fell swoop.
It is but just to Jacob to say that he objected to putting himself in
his brother's place, but Rebekah said, "only obey my voice," and he
obeyed--of course.
The men were always obedient, as the Bible proves conclusively. They
obeyed everybody and anybody--kings, mothers, wives, sweethearts and
courtesans.
But where can we find any evidence of the vaunted obedience of woman?
Not among the prominent women of the Bible at least.
Rebekah influenced her husband in all matters, advanced one son's
interests and balked another's aims, prospects and ambitions. In short
she played her cards with such consummate skill that she captured
everything she cared to take.
Jacob was obedient, complimentary, submissive and loving and Rebekah
was--a woman.
A WOMAN'S MONUMENT.
A WOMAN'S MONUMENT.
[Illustration: (And there came two angels to Sodom.)]
"And there came two angels to Sodom, at even."
Now Lot and his wife were residents of Sodom, and they entertained in
the most courteous and hospitable manner the angels who were the
advance guards of the destruction that was about to sweep the cities
of Sodom and Gomorrah into oblivion, leaving only a blazing ash-strewn
tradition to scare the slumbers of the wicked, and stalk a warning
specter down the paths of iniquity through unborn ages.
And the softening twilight fell upon the doomed but unconscious
cities. Unpitying Nature smiled joyously. The cruel sun, possibly
knowing the secret of the angels, gayly flaunted his myriad colors,
and disappeared in a blaze of glory without wasting one regret upon
the wicked cities he would see no more forever.
No angelic hand wrote in blazing letters one word of warning across
the star-gemmed scroll of heaven; but the song rung out on the evening
breezes, laughter rose and fell and the red wine flowed; women danced
lightly on the brink of destruction and men jested on the edge of the
grave.
And yet some rumor of these angels and their errand must have reached
the fated cities, for after Lot had dined and wined them before they
retired, "the men of the city, even the men of Sodom, compassed the
house round, both old and young, all the people from every quarter."
And Lot went out and tried to pacify them, but his eloquence and his
pleading were in vain, and they said, "Stand back." And they said
again, "This one fellow came in to sojourn, and he will needs be a
judge."
[Illustration: "AND LOT WENT OUT AND TRIED TO PACIFY THEM."]
And I imagine there was a great tumult and confusion, angry words,
flashing eyes and an ominous surging to and fro, "and they pressed
sore upon the man, even Lot," but still he pleaded the defense of the
angels, and meanly offered to bring out his two young daughters and
give to the howling mob--but the passion that glowed in the eyes and
trembled in the voices of the raging throng was not a passion to be
allayed by the clasp of a woman's hand, the flash of her azure eye, or
the touch of her lips; and besides, that boisterous, angry crowd
evidently did not believe in the efficacy of vicarious atonement and
they flouted the offer. The uproar increased, curses and maledictions
rung out, the demand for the men grew louder and louder, and at this
perilous moment the angels "put forth their hand and pulled Lot into
the house to them, and shut to the door," and "They smote the men that
were at the door of the house with blindness, both small and great: so
that they wearied themselves to find the door."
And in that crushing moment when eternal darkness fell upon the
multitude the cries of anger and revenge died away, and such a moan
of anguish and despair burst upon the affrighted night that the very
stars in heaven trembled.
Then the angels confided to Lot their dread secret and told him to
warn all his relatives to leave the city with him, and he went out and
told his sons-in-law of the impending calamity, and he "seemed as one
that mocked unto his sons-in-law."
The morning came blue-eyed and blushing, and the angels hastened Lot
and his wife, and hurried them out of the city, saying, "Escape for
thy life: look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plains:
escape to the mountains, lest thou be consumed."
Now if there were any more disreputable people in the cities than
Lot's two young daughters, we don't wonder that the vengeance of a
just God sent a blasting storm of bursting flames to lick with their
fiery tongues these wicked cities from the face of the earth. What
does arouse our wonder is that those fair girls with the devil's
instincts smouldering in their hearts should be allowed to escape the
general baking. But excuse us; our business is to state facts and not
to wonder or surmise.
[Illustration: (Lot's wife looked back.)]
From subsequent facts we suppose that Lot's wife sadly, perhaps
rebelliously, lingered, for we find the angels saying again:
"Haste thee, escape thither; for I cannot do anything till thou come
thither," and they escaped to the city of Zoar, "and the sun was risen
upon the face of the earth when Lot entered into Zoar."
"Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from
the Lord out of heaven."
But before the end Lot's "wife looked back from behind him and she
became a pillar of salt."
All the information we have of Mrs. Lot is exceedingly meager; only
one short sentence and two little clauses in other sentences; and yet
no figure of history, no creation of a poet's dream or artist's brush
since the world, wrapped in the laces of the twilight and the mists,
and rocked in the cradle of the first early morning of life, until the
present day, old in experience, wrinkled with care, heart-sick with
too much knowledge and laughing without mirth, stands out more
clearly before the world than Lot's wife--and why?
Because it has been supposed that she was very naughty.
In this world it is the wicked folks who get the glory and the
everlasting fame; the good people get the snubs, the crumbs, the
eternal oblivion.
The whole history of Lot's wife lies in the fact that she was told by
the angel of the Lord to do one thing, and she--didn't do it.
But that is characteristic of the women of old; they systematically
didn't do it if they were told to, and systematically did do it if
they were told not to.
And Madam Lot "became a pillar of salt," because of her disobedience,
and has stood through the centuries a warning statue to naughty
females; yes, more than that, for she has seemed a criminal whom just
vengeance caught in the very act and turned into a pillar of salt,
standing in the plain near Sodom, against a background of shame, crime
and punishment, that the eyes of the world of women might look upon
forever, and be afraid.
But in this day and age we are beginning to see that in Lot's wife it
was a case of mistaken identity, and instead of being a criminal she
was a great and good woman, and although the "pillar of salt"
commemorates an act of dire disobedience, it also extols a loving
heart and a brave act.
Just imagine her position. She was leaving her home, around which a
woman's heart clings as the vine clings to the oak, her children, her
friends; breaking the ties that years of association and friendship
had woven about her in chains of gold, and leaving them to a terrible
fate. But stronger than all these gossamer, yet almost unbreakable
threads, was the love she bore her husband; a love so intense, so deep
that it made her obey a command of God's against which every instinct,
passion and emotion of her nature rebelled.
He was going and her daughters were going with him, and womanlike she
forsook everything to follow him--the man she loved; the man whose
frown could make her heart sore as the wounds of death and agony, and
her heaven dark with the clouds of desolation and despair; or whose
gentle smile or caressing touch could sweep the mists of doubt and
uncertainty from her mind, even as June kisses make June roses
blossom, her weary eye glow with the light that love alone can kindle,
and clothe rough labor in robes of splendor.
Softly the dawn awoke, gayly fell the sunlight on the doomed cities,
and joyously the breezes swept the plains round about Sodom and
Gomorrah.
And Lot and his wife and daughters obeyed the command: "Escape for thy
life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plains;
escape to the mountains lest thou be consumed."
And now with frantic haste Lot's wife urges them on; she even leads
the way in her mad desire for their escape, encouraging them by word,
look and action. And while her heart is a battle-ground where a
desperate conflict is raging, there is no hint of disobedience or
rebellion in her eyes, no lagging in her footstep, no tears for love,
no sighs for friendship, no backward glance of compassion toward the
wicked but dear city.
And now they have come a long way--and suddenly the sunshine grows
dark, the wind falls, flutters, dies away; then comes the ominous
hush that foretells the bursting storm.
And this woman knows that her daughters and her husband, the lover of
her youth and the lover of later years, in short the one loved lover
of her life, is safe; safe from the tempest of destruction, safe from
the wrath of God. A wave of joy floods her heart at the thought. No
harm can touch them; she revels in that assurance for a moment--and
then she forgets them.
The white-capped breakers of disobedience against the cruel command
"look not behind thee" sweep with crushing force across her soul; the
unjust command that stifles compassion. All the angels and demons, the
joys and sorrows of life, urge her to turn back; love of children,
friendship of old neighbors, regret for the joys that have fled,
remorse for the wicked deeds she has done, the unkind words she has
spoken, a blind unreasoning rebellion against the fate that has
overtaken her friends and home, fight against God's command. And in
that awful moment when the furious winds strike her like angry hands,
when Fear levels his glittering dagger at her heart, Death holds his
gleaming sword before her eyes, the heavens disappear, hell sits
enthroned in fiery flames upon the clouds; above the deafening roar of
the maddened tempest the crashing thunder that made the very dead
tremble in the corruption of their graves, and the awful surging of
the blazing rain, she heard God's command ringing out "Look not behind
thee."
[Illustration: (Look not behind thee.)]
For an instant she paused to cast an ineffable smile of love upon the
cherished ones at her side, and then before the eyes of unborn
millions, while all the hosts of heaven and even God himself stood
appalled at her daring, she slowly and deliberately turned and looked
back; and that one glance showed her a sight that froze her into a
beautiful statue of disobedience, love and compassion.
She was loving, tender, daring--but disobedient!
Oh, that we might find one woman in the Old Testament meek and humble,
to whom we could pin a faith, not born of teaching and preaching and
general belief, that such a thing as a submissive, obedient, tractable
woman or wife ever did exist.
ANOTHER OF THE WOMEN OF OLD.
ANOTHER OF THE WOMEN OF OLD.
At the command of his mother, let it be remembered, and not because he
had any particular desire to do so himself, Jacob left home and
departed unto the land of his mother's people, where she told him to
seek a wife.
The life of many men of the Old Testament (after they have reached
man's estate, I mean) begins with a love affair, and I infer from
that, that the Bible means to teach the lesson that to love is the
first and best business of life, as well as the most entertaining and
pleasant thing that this world ever did or ever will have to offer.
And Jacob reached the land of Laban, his mother's brother, and stopped
by a well where the flocks were watered. This is the second well which
figures conspicuously in a love story of the Bible, and we imagine
they were the trysting places of the ancient young lovers.
While Jacob was loitering and gossiping with the young men he found
there, "and while he yet spake with them, Rachel came with her
father's sheep; for she kept them."
Now "Rachel was beauteous and well favored," and of course Jacob saw
all this at a glance, for a man never yet needed a telescope and a
week's time to decide whether a woman possessed the elements which
constituted beauty in his mind or not, and so Jacob gallantly rolled
the stone away from the well and watered the flock of Laban, and then,
with all the boldness which characterized his future notorious career,
he "kissed Rachel, and lifted up his voice and wept."
As there could hardly be anything but pleasure in kissing a lovely
maiden, we naturally infer that Jacob was very emotional and was
crying for effect, and that Rachel, with the consummate tact that all
the women of the Bible displayed when managing the men, perfectly
understood this, and had as little respect for him at the moment as
most women have for a tearful man. A man like Jacob cries easily, and
when he thus "lifted up his voice and wept," it is to be hoped the
girl entirely understood him.
And Jacob's kiss is the first one that love ever pressed upon the lips
of a blushing maid--at least it is the first one that is
authoritatively recorded.
At that time Jacob started a fashion that "custom cannot stale," a
fashion that while time lasts shall be as cheap as roses, laughter and
sunshine, as thrilling as wine, as sweet as innocence and as new as
love, a fashion that wealth, time or country cannot monopolize, and
one that is as sweet to the beggar, and sweeter too, than to the king.
[Illustration: (Jacob kissed Rachel and lifted up his voice and
wept.)]
At the end of one short month we find him so desperately enamored
that he said to Laban, Rachel's father: "I will serve thee seven years
for thy younger daughter;" and the old gentleman, seeing an
opportunity to get a hired man cheap, consented.
"And Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed unto him but
a few days for the love he had to her."
What a world of devotion that one sentence reveals. As we read that we
forget all about the prosaic age in which we live; forget the modern
I'll-give-you-a-brown-stone-front-and-diamonds-in-exchange-for-your-
youth-and-beauty-love, and believe in the kind that makes a man a god
and a woman an angel, and we imagine that an affection so intense and
deep that it could make seven weary years of labor "seem but a few
days" must be as constant as the flowing tide, as steadfast as the
stars--and then after a while we are desperately, despairingly sorry
that we have read any further than that verse because we are so sadly
disillusioned.
[Illustration: "AND JACOB SERVED SEVEN YEARS FOR RACHEL."]
For a little further on we find that Jacob wasn't as shrewd about
getting married as he was about breeding cattle that were
ring-streaked and grizzled, and so Laban, with the cunning of a
modern politician, palmed off his daughter Leah on Jacob as a bride.
But the next morning, when he discovered the trick, there were
probably matinees, side-shows and circuses in the tent of Laban, and
finally the upshot of the whole affair was that he agreed to serve
seven years more for Rachel, and then married her also. Far be it from
me to disparage Jacob's love, but we cannot help but notice that we
have no inspired statement saying that the seven years he served for
Rachel, after he had married her, "seemed but a few days for the love
he had to her."
But we can't censure him for that, for as we read we discover that in
his earnest and constant endeavor to save his precious person he had
no time to nurture his love. For the two wives, the two sisters, were
madly jealous of each other of course (and we can't blame them either,
for there never was a man so great that he could be divided between
two wives, several handmaids and more concubines, and be enough of him
to go around satisfactorily) and they made his life a howling
wilderness.
Leah, poor thing, longed for her fraudulent husband's love, and he
hated her. Rachel "envied her sister," and "Jacob's anger was kindled
against Rachel," and altogether the picture of their home is not very
enticing, and having gotten thus far we are more than ever convinced
that we do not want to follow the example of the "holy women" of old,
as Peter complimentarily, but ignorantly, calls them.
And Rachel and Leah, in order to spite and humble each other, each
gave her maid "to Jacob to wife" and strange as it may seem, he
accepted them both. It was like him.
Now about this time Leah's son "found mandrakes in the field" and
brought them to his mother. We suppose Rachel had a sweet tooth from
the fact that a little further on we find her offering to sell her
husband for one night to Leah, for some mandrakes, whatever they were;
and we notice that women held their husbands rather cheap in those
good old days.