The Philistine: a periodical of protest (Vol. II, No. 3, February 1896)

OF PROTEST (VOL. II, NO. 3, FEBRUARY 1896) ***

The Philistine A Periodical of Protest.

_Why should a man whose blood is warm within, sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?_—MERCHANT OF VENICE.

[Illustration: Vol. II. No. 3.]

Printed Every Little While for The Society of The Philistines and Published by Them Monthly. Subscription, One Dollar Yearly Single Copies, 10 Cents. February, 1896.

THE SOCIETY OF THE PHILISTINES.

(International.)

An association of Book Lovers and Folks who Write. Organized to further Good-Fellowship among men and women who believe in allowing the widest liberty to Individuality in Art.

ARTICLE XII. SEC. 2. The annual dues shall be one dollar. This shall entitle the member to all the documents issued by the Society, together with one copy of the PHILISTINE magazine, monthly, for one year.

Truthful manuscript seeking the Discerning Reader should be addressed to the Scrivener (assistant to the Datary); funds, forwarded for the matter of subscriptions, to the Bursar.

Address The Philistine, East Aurora, N. Y.

THE PHILISTINE is published monthly at $1 a year, 10 cents a single copy. Subscriptions may be left with newsdealers or sent direct to the publishers. The trade supplied by the AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY and its branches. Foreign agencies, BRENTANO’S, 37 Avenue de l’Opera, Paris; G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS, 24 Bedford street, Strand, London.

THE PHILISTINE.

CONTENTS FOR FEBRUARY, 1896.

Victory, L. H. Bickford

Poem, Stephen Crane

Do Posters Post? Carolyn Wells

Why I am a Philistine, Elbert Hubbard

Chopin and George Sand, Macpherson Wiltbank

Two Fables, John Bryan of Ohio

Notes.

Subscriptions can begin with the current number only. A very limited quantity of back numbers can be supplied. Vol. I, No. 1, 75 cents. Nos. 2, 3, 4 and 5 at 25 cents each.

Mr. Collin’s PHILISTINE poster in three printings will be mailed to any address on receipt of 25 cents by the publishers. A few signed and numbered copies on Japan vellum remain at $1.00 each.

_Entered at the Postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission as mail matter of the second class._

_COPYRIGHT, 1896, by B. C. Hubbard._

A LIST OF BOOKS ISSUED IN CHOICE AND LIMITED EDITIONS BY THOMAS B. MOSHER AT XXXVII EXCHANGE STREET, PORTLAND, MAINE. MDCCCXCV-VI.

A LARGER DESCRIPTIVE LIST WILL BE SENT ON APPLICATION.

_THE OLD WORLD SERIES._

THE OLD WORLD SERIES is in format, a narrow F cap, 8 vo., printed from new type on a size of Van Gelder paper made for this edition only. Original head bands and tail pieces have been freely used with the best effects, and each issue has its special cover design. Bound in flexible Japan vellum with silk ribbon marker, white parchment wrappers, gold seals and in slide cases, an almost ideal volume is offered the book lover. Price per volume, $1.00 net.

_I. Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam._

Rendered into English verse by Edward FitzGerald. This is not a mere reprint of _The Bibelot_ edition, but has been edited with a view to making FitzGerald’s wonderful version indispensable in its present OLD WORLD shape.

_II. Aucassin and Nicolete._

Done into English by Andrew Lang. Of the four complete translations into English of this exquisite old French love story, that by Andrew Lang is unquestionably the finest.

_THE BIBELOT SERIES._

THE BIBELOT SERIES is modelled on an old style format, narrow 8vo., and beautifully printed in italic on Van Gelder’s hand-made paper, uncut edges, done up in flexible Japan vellum, with outside wrappers and dainty gold seal. Each issue has besides an original cover design and is strictly limited to 725 copies. Price per volume, $1.00 net.

_V. Sonnets of Michael Angelo._

Now for the first time translated into rhymed English by John Addington Symonds. A portrait of Vittoria Colonna has been given in artotype from a design by Michael Angelo, printed in Sepia on Japan vellum.

_VI. The Blessed Damozel._

A Book of Lyrics chosen from the works of Dante Gabriel Rosetti. This edition has some MS. readings to the poem of JENNY that are not included as yet in any of the collected editions.

_The Child in the House._

An imaginary portrait by Walter Pater. 425 copies have been printed on Japan vellum, narrow 24 mo., done up in flexible covers, with sealed outside wrappers and slide case. Price 75 cents net.

_THE BIBELOT.—1896._

Subscriptions for 1896 at the regular price, 50 cents in advance, postpaid, are taken for the complete year only. After March 1, the rate will be 75 cents, which will, on completion of Volume II, be advanced to $1.00 net.

THOMAS B. MOSHER, Publisher, PORTLAND, MAINE.

[Illustration: MODERN ART

Edited by J. M. BOWLES.]

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THE PHILISTINE.

NO. 3. February, 1896. VOL. 2.

VICTORY: BEING A CHANT AFTER BATTLE.

As we marched into the desert And sang unto the stars, The sky looked kindly on us And the pain of battle scars No longer seemed to rack us; While the folly of the fray Was burned upon us, Singed upon us, Branded by the day; Till crimson in that holy night Shone forth those deeds of Mars, As we marched into the desert And hymned unto the stars.

And backward: trodden was the grass, And crimson were the lands, And crimson were the ghosts that rose, And crimson ran the sands.

Yet we marched into the desert And chanted to the stars.

L. H. BICKFORD.

WHY I AM A PHILISTINE.

I have received a long and carefully written letter from an unknown gentleman who signs himself “Retired Clergyman.”

The Great Obscure favor me quite often with anonymous epistles, but life being short and the waste basket wide, I seldom reply. Yet now an exception must be made and I answer “Retired Clergyman” for the sole and simple reason that he has “retired,” and in retiring he has made the world his debtor. Probably no one act of this man’s entire life was so potent for good as this. He has set all clergymen without humor a most precious precedent. In gratitude, hoping that his example will bear fruit, I reply.

Did space permit I would be glad to print my correspondent’s letter entire, but the gist of his scholarly argument is that The Society of the Philistines is endeavoring to make free-thought universal and paganism popular. He stoutly avers that the ancient Philistines were the enemies of Jehovah, that they worshipped strange gods and that they were the sworn foes of the Chosen People.

Now this is the sad part: he proves his case.

The gentleman explains that he would not have seen the PHILISTINE MAGAZINE had not his daughter, “an unmarried lady of thirty-two,” purchased several copies; but from this on, with his permission, no more numbers of this “infidelic infernal machine” shall enter his house.

My heart goes out to all unmarried ladies of thirty-two. Especially so when they have fathers who are irascible; only one worse fate can befall a woman of thirty-two than to have an irascible father, and that is to have a lover who is irate. Still I doubt not but that the daughter of “Retired Clergyman” will find a way to read the PHILISTINE—booklets laugh at locksmiths!

Yet, ignorance prevails, for is not “Retired Clergyman” living proof? And so I will say: There lived in the Far East about three thousand years ago a tribe of people known as Philistines. It is a hotly mooted question among the theologians whether they were so-called because they lived in Philistia or whether Philistia took its name on account of being peopled by Philistines. I will not take sides in this issue, but hedge closely and simply stand firm on the fact that a tribe called the Philistines existed. Near them lived the Hivites, the Moabites, the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Jebusites, the Perizzites, the Ammonites and the Gothamites.

Now among these tribes none were so strong, none so intelligent, none so virtuous as the Philistines.

And it came to pass that the superior quality of moral fibre in the Philistines caused the entire country to be known as Philistia; it was the general name given to the whole valley of the Jordan. And the name endures even unto this day.

Palestine means the Land of the Philistines.

And it seems that among them there was a rude sense of right and wrong. For if a man owned a piece of ground and planted a vine on it, and then watered and tended the vine, the grapes that grew on this vine were his, and all of the people agreed to this, and the man and his neighbors knew all this without a Dispensation.

These people planted vineyards, and had gardens, and fields of wheat and of barley. They had barns with threshing floors, and they had carts, plows and other implements. They builded houses and owned their homes; and the men loved their wives and their children; and the women were the comrades of the men—all taking part in the sports as well as in the work, for they were a merry, happy people.

Now about thirteen centuries before Christ, while they were living in peace and prosperity, there swooped down upon them a horde of escaped slaves, called Israelites. These slaves had broken away from their masters in Egypt. The country to which they travelled was only about three hundred miles from Egypt, but as their average speed was less than a mile a week it took them forty years to make the journey.

The man who led these slaves in their flight was one Moses, who had killed a man in Egypt and fled. After many years of exile, during which time he had been in Philistia and liked it, he returned and led the exodus. When the Israelites left they took all the gold and silver ornaments and utensils they could “borrow,” and melted them up. And they were not ashamed of this act, for they have written it down in the third chapter of a book called Exodus. The ancient Israelites never had any clear ideas as to the rights of property. When they found grapes growing on a vine they helped themselves and swore that the fruit was theirs by Divine right.

In order to impress this ignorant, barbaric horde with the sense of authority, Moses told the people that God directed him, and that Deity told him what to do and say.

Moses used to go up on a mountain, clear above the clouds, beyond where the mists hover, and when he came down the people asked him what he had been up there for, and he told them he went up to see God. In no other way could Moses control this restless mob except by saying God says so and so.

And the fact that their leader was on such good terms with Elohim or Yoveh, inflated these people so that they always spoke of themselves as “the Chosen People of God.” The Jebusites, the Hittites and the Moabites never referred to the Israelites as the Chosen People of God. No one called them the Chosen People of God—only they themselves.

And I wish to say right here that the individual who does a great and magnificent work _is_ on close and friendly terms with God. He _is_ the Son of God, and it is necessary that he should feel this kinship in order to do his work. From Moses, the called of God, on up to Socrates, who listened to the Dæmon, to George Fox, who hearkened to the Voice, to the Prophets of our own time, all lie low in the Lord’s hand and listen closely ere they act. A man is strong only when he feels that he is backed by a Power, not his own, that makes for Righteousness.

When I think of these brave souls, the Saviours of the World, who have sought to lead men out of the captivity of evil—feeling and knowing that they were the Sons of God—I stand uncovered. But a mass of people—a crowd, a mob—that claims to be a “Chosen People” is a sight to make angels weep. “You cannot indict a class” said Macaulay; corporations have no souls, and a horde that claims to be inspired is only a howling cowardly Thing. Great men are ever lonely and live apart, but birds of a feather flock together because they fear to flock alone. They want warmth and protection—they are afraid. A mob is the quintessence of cowardice—a dirty, mad, hydra-headed monster, that one good valiant St. George can thrust to the heart. When a mob speaks I say: Vox populi vox Devil!

At the time the Israelites tumbled in pell-mell onto the Philistines Moses had long been dead. The mob was without a leader and quarrel was rife amid its broken ranks. In a mad rush they stampeded the herds of the Philistines, scattered their flocks, destroyed their gardens, and as excuse they shouted: We are the Chosen People of God!! And one of their Poets sang a song, two lines of which runs thus:

_Moab is my wash-pot,_ _Over Philistia will I cast my shoe._

This only made the Philistines laugh, and although the Israelites outnumbered them, they went at it and scattered them. Finally after long years of warfare, the fight was called a draw, and the Jews settled down and following the good example of the Philistines made themselves homes.

Of course, as sane men and women, we of today do not suppose that the great Universal Intelligence that holds the worlds in the hollow of His hand had much interest in the fight. If this Intelligence were a Being, I can imagine Him looking over the battlement of Heaven and turning with a weary smile to Gabriel, saying, “Let ’em fight—what boots it! they will all be dead tomorrow, anyway.”

It is a noteworthy fact that in the first chapter of the Gospel of St. Matthew the Inspired Writer traces the genealogy of Jesus direct to the Philistines. In the sixth verse we find “David begat Solomon of her who had been the wife of Urias.” Back of this is Ruth the Moabitess, who was the grandmother of David. There is no such thing as tracing a pure Jewish lineage back to the time of Moses. The Jews went a courting as soon as they arrived on the borders of Canaan; and the heathen quite fancied the Israelitish women from the first. In the book of Ruth, first chapter and fourth verse I see, “And they took them wives out of the country of Moab.” The houses of Capulet and Montague have ever intermarried—it seems a quiet way Nature has of playing a little joke.

And after a painstaking study of the matter I am fully convinced that the sterling qualities in the Jew are derived from his Philistine ancestry. No one doubts that Solomon was the wisest man that ever was. His mother was a Philistine. Now no man is ever greater than his mother, and it is very plain that the great wisdom of Solomon was derived from this pagan woman whose body nourished him; in whose loving arms he was cradled; and whose intellect first fired his aspiration. This is all made plainer yet when we remember that David had many sons by Jewish women, and that all of these sons were positively no good—and some of them very, very bad. The facts are found in the Second Book of Samuel—a book, by the way, which no respectable girl should allow her mother to read.

But if any captious critic arises and denies the Law of Heredity, for argument’s sake, I’ll waive this matter of maternal transmission of excellence and rest my case as to Solomon’s wisdom on the fact that he married over four hundred Philistine women. And as stated by Sir Walter Besant in a recent story, “a newly married woman always tells her husband everything she knows,” I will feel safe in saying that Solomon’s transcendent wisdom was derived from Philistinic sources.

Only one incident in the history of this people do I wish to set straight before the world at this writing—that is the story of Goliath. According to recently discovered cuneiform inscriptions it is found that the giant lived long enough to attend the funeral of David, so it is hardly likely that David slew him. David probably threw pebbles at the warrior, but the giant of course paid no attention to the boys that followed him—going along about his business just as any other dignified giant would have done. But David went home and told that he had killed the man—and the Israelites wishing to leave a proud record wrote the tale down as history. This story was interpolated into the Bible during the fore part of the Third Century.

In David’s case summer and autumn quite fulfilled the promise of spring. That eleventh chapter of Second Samuel, showing how he stole Bath-Sheba and then killed Uriah, her husband, reveals the quality of the man. But it was left for his dying act to crown a craven career. With his last lingering breath—with the rattle of death in his throat—he gasped to his son, referring to a man who had never wronged him, “His hoar head bring thou down to the grave in blood!” With the utterance of these frightful words his soul passed out into the Unknown. In all that David wrote not a word can I find that hints at his belief in a future life—he simply never thought of it! and dying as a dog dies, he gnashed at Shimei, whose offense was that thirty-five years before he had told David a little wholesome truth. Shimei was a brave fellow and David dare not fight him, so he made a truce with him and swore an oath that he would never molest him, but dying he charged Solomon to search him out with a sword. This is recorded by the Inspired Writer in the ninth verse of the second chapter of First Kings.

With forty-one distinct crimes to David’s charge, the killing of nine hundred thousand men and two hundred thousand women and children, the houghing of thousands of horses, all of which is set down in infallible Holy Writ, his record is very bluggy. In fact, his whole life’s pathway is streaked with infamy.

David being a literary man of acknowledged merit, I have given him more attention than I would a plain, every-day king. And I now brand him as an all ’round rogue. I do this calmly, holding myself personally responsible, and fully prepared to plead justification and prove my case should the heirs or next-of-kin consider my language libellous.

So far as I can ascertain, Dagon was eminently respectable. I cannot find a single stain on his record; while as for Jehovah, goodness me! If half that His Chosen People tell about him is true, he surely wasn’t very nice.

And while I do not know anything about it for certain, it is my opinion that at the Last Great Day the folks who stayed around home and pruned their vines and tended their flocks and loved their wives and babies will fare a deal better than those other men who made war on innocent people and tried to render them homeless. Of course I may be wrong about this, but I cannot help having an opinion.