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.tiN »^ "i^ %ef
EXPOSITORY LECTURES
THE BOOK ECCLESIASTES,
A NEW TRANSLATION,
SAMUEL COX.
% Comment arg for ^agmjit.
LONDON : ARTHUR MIALL, 18, BOUTERIE STREET, FLEET STREET.
YATr.S AND ALEXANDFTt,
rniNTKns,
SYMONDS INN, tllANCF.nY LANK.
TO
Xtarg Allien ^ajc]^,
THE BEST FRIEND HE HAS YET FOUND OR HOPES TO FIND,
THIS VOLUME
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY
THE AUTHOK.
P U E F A C E.
HERE is now no dearth of Commentaries
adapted to the use of Scholars. But all
men are not scholars, nor even all who love and
study the Bible. Among these there are many who
have little Greek, less Hebrew; and many more
who are acquainted with no language but their
own. For such students of the Bible comparatively
little has been done. They have no Translation on
the accuracy of which they can rely, nor do those
whose learning and godliness give them authority
seem at all disposed to furnish them with one.
The best Commentaries of the day are not written
for them, nor popularized for their use. And
meantmie,
with no parade Of Hebrew or Greek To make thcni afraid,
PREFACE.
many of the most subtle and daring assaults on the Sacred Documents are conveyed to them in their own tongue.
The surest defence against such assaults lies, I think, not m formal refutations of them, but in a more profound and accurate acquaintance with the history, contents, and aim of the several Books of Scripture. It has long therefore been a ruling endeavour with me to acquaint myself and those whom I am called to teach with the mind of God as revealed by the holy men who were inspired by the Holy Ghost. One result of that endeavour is the following Commentary. Its contents Avere delivered to my Congregation in a series of Expo- sitory Lectures. As my Congregation is not com- posed of scholars, I was compelled to omit all discussion of various readings and disputed render- ings, grammatical problems and niceties of criticism — a happy necessity for me, since I am not com- petent to deal with such questions. My aim was
PREFACE.
simply to bring out the leading thoughts of " the Preacher " as concisely and clearly as I could, and to clothe them in words familiar to those who, though of fair general culture, had no knowledge of Hebrew and no love for theological or scholastic technicalities: in short, to give the results of the best modern criticism without obtrudinor the critical process by which they had been reached.
I now offer these Lectures to a larger circle; but, though I have in part re-written them, I have retained their original form, lest, in recastmg them, I should fall into a more bookish style, a style less simple and direct. In the absence of better help, I hope there are some who will find even this brief imperfect Commentary helpful to them. If any of my readers have been wont to think of Ecclesiastes as a series of detached gnomes or maxims, not always very wise, and sometimes distinctly immoral ; they will find, I trust, that it is rather a Drama which sets forth truths of the profoundest and most
PREFACE.
practical importance, truths as vital and momen- tous to us as to the antique Hebrew world, in long lines of coimected thought, each mounting to its appropriate climax, and all pressing on to a lofty and most impressive close. If they discover, with some natural regret, that not a few familiar passages must be read in a new sense, they will also discover, I hope, that the new sense of these passages is at least as instructive as the old, and that the whole Book gains in coherence, in clearness, in power.
They may rely — and here I am simply antici- pating a question sure to be asked — on the superior accuracy of the " New Translation;" for it is based on that of Mr. Ginsburg, perhaps the highest living authority on all that pertains to the Book Eccle- siastes. In common with all students of this Book, I am profoundly indebted to him. He has given seven years of learned leisure to this Scripture ; and in his " Critical Commentary" he has gathered together ntost of the exegetical helps the Student
PREFACE.
requires. Of these I have tried to avail myself in order to ascertain the true text, and the true mean- ing of the text, adding what I could on the historical relations, dramatic force, and moral significance of this inspired Poem. For the Scholar his Commen- tary is indispensable, and, so far as my reading goes, unrivalled ; but for the general reader its very perfection becomes " an effect defective," since to him its constant citations of the Hebrew text, coupled with frequent references to cognate forms in Syriac and Arabic, present insuperable diffi- culties. Had his translation been as idiomatic as it appears to me accurate, I should not have been at the pains to make one for myself: and even as it is, my main task in translating has been to give his renderings in more simple nervous English, pre- serving so far as I could — and that is less possible in this than in almost any other Book in the Canon — the familiar beauties of the Authorized Version. In dividing the Book into Sections I have also ibl-
X PREFACE.
lowed his lead, following it all the more gladly because in the main his divisions tally -svith Ewald's : but should other divisions be preferred, the chief coimections of thought between chapter and chapter, verse and verse, would not thereby be broken.
My debts to other writers I have acknowledged as I have contracted them, with one exception. I chanced to be reading Epictetus at the time I wrote these Lectures ; and was not a little grateful to him for constantly leading me to a point of view from which the "words of the Preacher" grew more clear and forcible. Those who happen to be familiar with the " Dissertationes " and "Enchiri- dion " of that most Christian of the Classical Writers mil readily understand how closely akin his tone of thought is to that of Coheleth.
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAOKS
I.— THE INTRODUCTION 1— GO
§ 1 On the Authorship, Desiyn, and Cuntents of the
Booh 3 — 23
§ 2 On the History of the Captivity . . . 23 — (30
(a) The Babylonian Period .... ;J0 — 7
(b) Tbo Persian Period .... 37— GG
n. THE TRANSLATION G7— 109
§ 1 The Prologue G9 — 70
§ 2 The First Section : or, The Quest of the Chief
Good in Wisdom and in Ploasiu-e . , 71 — 6
§ 3 The Second Section : or, The Quest in Devotion
to the AfFaii's of Business . . . 77 — 8G
§ 4 'The Third Section : or, The Quest in Wealtli
and in the Golden Mean .... 87 — 96
§ 0 'The Fourth Section: or, The Quest Achieved 97 — 109
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAOES
III.— THE EXPOSITION 111-320
§ 1 The Prologue 113—125
§ 2 TuE First Section : or, The Quest in
Wisdom and in Pleasure . . . . 126 — 139
(a) The Quest in Wisdom .... 126—131
(b) The Quest in Pleasure .... 131 — 5
(c) Wisdom and Pleasure Compared. . . 135 — 7
(d) TJie Conclusion 137 — 9
§ 3 The Second Section: or, The Quest in
Devotion to the Affairs of Business . . 140 — 180
(a) The Quest obstructed by Divine Ordinances; 140 — 3
(b) And by Human Injustice and Perversity. 143 — 8
(c) It is rendered hopeless by the base Origin
of Human Industries . . . 148 — 9
(d) Yet these are capable of a nobler Motive
and Mode 150 — 4
(e) So also a happier and more effective
Method of Worship is open to Man ; . 155 — 7
(f ) And a more hopeful and consolatory Trust
in the Divine Providence . . . 157 — 160
Hortatory Application 161 — 180
(a) Devotion to Business springs from Jealous
Competition : . . . 163 — 4
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS. xui
PAGEfl
(b) It tends to foiin a Covetous Temper ; . 1G4 — 0
(c) To produce a Materialistic Sceptisin ; . 1G6 — 7
(d) To make Worship Formal and Insincere ; 168 — 70
(e) And to take from Life its Quiet and Inno-
cent Enjoyments .... 1 70 — 71
(f) The Correctives of this Devotion are,
(1) a Sense of its Perils ; . . . 175
(2) And the Conviction that it is opposed
to the Will of God as expressed (a) in the Ordinances of His
Providence, .... 175 — G
(b) In the Wrong.s which He permits Men to inflict upon us ; . 176 — 7
(c) But above all in the im- mortal Cravings which Ho has quickened in the Soul . 177 — 8
(g) Practical Maxims deduced from this View
of the Business-Life ....
(1) A Maxim on Co-operation .
(2) A Maxim on Worship
(3) A Maxim on Trust in God .
4 The Third Section : or, the Quest in Wealth and in the Golden Mean ....
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THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGES
[A.) Thr Quest in Wealth 182—8
(a) Tho Man who makes Riches his Chief Good
is haunted by Fears and Perplexities : . 184 — 5
(b) For God has put Eternity into His heart ; 185—6
(c) And much that he gains only feeds Vanity ; 186 — 7
(d) Neither can he tell what it will be Good
for him to have, .... 187
(e) Nor foresee what will become of his Gains 187 —
(B) The Quest in the Golden Mean .... 188—202
(a) Tho Method of the Man who seeks a Com-
petence ...... 190 — 3
(b) The Perils to which it Exposes him . . 193—200
(1) He is Hkely to compromise Con-
science: .... 194 — 5
(2) To be indifferent to Censure : . . 195 — 6
(3) To despise Women : . . . 196—8
(4) And to be indifferent to Public
Wrongs 198—200
(c) Tho Preacher condemns this Theory of
Human Life . . . . . 200—2
HOKTATORY APPLICATION 202—220
(A) The Quest in Wealth 205—11
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.
(a) Tho Man who makes Eiches his Chief Good
is haunted by Fears and Perplexities . 205 — 7
(b) Much that he gains only feeds Vanity . 207
(c) He cannot toll what it will be Good for
him to have ; ..... 207
(d) Nor foresee what will become of his Gains: 208 — 10
(e) And because God has put Eternity into
His heart, ho cannot be content with
Temporal Gains. .... 21() — 11
(B) The Quest in the Golden Mean .... 210—20
(a) The Method of tho Man who seeks a Com-
petence ....... 213 — 15
(b) The Perils to which it exposes him . 215 — 19
(1) He is likely to compromise Con-
science: 215 — 17
(2) To be indifferent to Censure : . 217
(3) To despise Women : .... 217— IS
(4) And to be indifferent to Public Wrongs 218—19
(c) Tho Preacher condemns this Theory of
Human Life 219 — 20
§ 5 The Quest Achieved 221 — 03
(a) The Chief Good not to be found in Wisdom: 222— 2(i
THE TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGES
(b Nor in Pleasure : 226—28
(c) Nor in Devotion to Affairs and its Rewards : 228 — 37
(d) But in a wise Use and a wise Enjoyment
of the Present Life, .... 237—46 (o) Combined with a steadfast Faith in the
Life to come 246—62
§ 6 The Epilogue : In which the Problem of the
Book is conclusively Solved . . . 264 320
INTEODUCTION.
INTEODUCTIOK
§ 1. On the Authorship, Design, and Contents of the Book.
HE Bible is a book, but it is also many books in one* It is one book, for it contains a pro- gressive revelation of a single coherent scheme of truth, of the thoughts of a great and unique Mind. Never- theless, this one book is composed of many books, each of which has its own author, its distinct purpose, its special form, and lends its peculiar note to the complex harmony of Scripture. This noble company of holy authors w^ere moved by one and the self-same Spirit to ^vrite what, and as, they did; and it was by His wise careful providence that their writings were pre- served and added to the Canon. There is not a single book in the Book, therefore, which will not repay our pro- foundest study by disclosing some aspect of the Divine
* Bible, the Book, is from Biblia, tlio books. Thus, by the happy solecism of this singTilarizcd plural, the multiform unity of Holy Writ is indicated by the very name we give to tho Sacred Volume. Jerome calls it "the Holy Library;" and an eminent Oriental scholar, speaking of an experience Trhich many of us have shared, says, " I gave up ' a book,' and found 'a literature.' "
1
INTRODUCTION.
"Will wliich we need to know. Only as we study eacli of the separate books of wliich it is composed can we appre- hend tlie Eevelation which runs through them all.
This, indeed, seems to he the special work appointed to us in the present age, viz., the study and interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. Our fathers might give them- selves to Dogmatic Theology, to the construction of systems of Christian Doctrine based on Scripture texts. We cannot. For as yet we have no stable basis, or no re- cognized and unassailable basis, on which to rear them. Kecent discoveries in the sciences of Language and His- tory have taught us a little to distrust the text of Scrip- ture which our fathers received without a doubt, and the interpretations of it with which they were content. Our Authorized Version, although so admirable as a composi- tion, is not equally admirable as a translation, but is often inaccurate and misleading. We cannot quote from it without running some risk of being told that the Hebrew or the Greek tells a very different tale. Passages which we have been accustomed to cite in proof of the resurrec- tion from the dead, for instance, or the everlasting pun- ishment of the wicked, or as descriptive of the glory of the Messiah, prove to have held no such meaning in the aninds of those who penned them. Whole books which we thought to have been ^\^.■itten at one age and by one man turn out to have been written by another man in another age. So that, happily for us, we are driven from
INTRODUCTION.
the study of Theology to the study of the Bible ; and, instead of constructing dogmas and creeds, we must ex- amine and interpret Scriptures : it becomes our duty to lay the foundations on -svhich our children, if they are so minded, may rear the lofty and far-shining structures of Systematic Theology.
This necessity, this duty, is surely a very welcome one, for what can be more wholesome, what more grate- ful to us, than to have our minds brought into contact with the very mind of God as revealed through holy men of old? than to learn how they — men of like passions with us, yet under the inspiration of the Almighty — re- garded the complex mysterious facts of that life which we now live in the flesh, and which is as strange and perplexing to us as it was to them ? Yet this most wholesome task has been too much neglected. For ever boasting that the Bible, the whole Bible, and the Bible only, is our religion ; how much of this " religion" do we know ? How many of us could give an orderly and ac- curate account of any one of its books, of its author, date, history, form, sequence of thought ; of the conditions of the race or generation to which it was addressed ; of the errors . it rebukes, and of the views of truth and duty wliich it enforces? To tell the plain truth, we are dreadfully and shamefully ignorant of the Bible in which we make our boast ; and it is high time we left off boasting about it and set ourselves to study what it really is, high time
INTRODUCTION.
that we replaced our customary examination of detached verses with a careful investigation of the history and scope of its separate books.
Now if we care to give ourselves to this task, where shall we begin ? As we glance along the Biblical " Library," in which there are so many volumes of which we know very little, and would like to know more, — which shall we take down ? Let us take one of which we know least, and must know least, so long as we know it only in the Authorized Version, to wit, " Ecclesiastes, or the Preacher." It has many claims on our preference besides our igno- rance of it. I will mention only two of these claims, and will only mention them. The first is, that, unlike most of the Hebrew Scriptures but in common with the Book of Job, it is Oriental, or even human, in its tone rather than Jewish. It gives no prominence to the Law of Moses, or to the theology and ritual built up on that Law, but appeals to the general instincts and needs of the common heart of man. It is hardly going too far to say that, except for the use it makes of the name and fame of Solomon — and even these are common to all Eastern Literature — it might have been written by a Gentile for Gentile readers. Its second claim is, that it discusses those dark problems of Provi- dence which have always tasked thoughtful men of every race, which still task and perplex the thoughts of men ; and discusses them in a dramatic form which lends the discus- sion an additional and peculiar interest. If the choice
INTRODUCTION.
need any further vindication, I can only hope that the Book itself will supply it as we grow more familiar with the Preacher's words.
Here, then, we have the book Ecclesiastes detached from the other Scriptures, a volume complete in itself, in order that we may thoughtfully and reverently examine it. Among the very earliest questions we have to ask about it are these : Who wrote it ? \Vhen was it ^vritten ? To whom was it addressed ? What are its main design and scope ? All these questions you probably suppose to ad- mit of an easy and distinct reply. Were they asked of you, 'you would answer, "Solomon wrote this book: of course, therefore, it was written in his lifetime, and ad- dressed to the race, to that generation of the race, over which he ruled: and his design inwritmg it was to record his own experience of life for their instruction." Now if any proof were needed of the profound ignorance of the Bible which afflicts even intelligent Christian men, it miglit be found in the fact that no one of these answers is true or anywhere near the truth. The Book Ecclesiastes was not written by Solomon, nor for centuries after his death. It was addressed to a generation of feeble and oppressed captives who had been carried out of Judea, and not to the free prosperous nation which rose to its highest pitch in the reign of the Wise King. It is a dramatic representa- tion of what some Jewish Piabbi supposed King Solomon's
INTRODUCTION.
experience to have been ; and its design was to comfort those who were groaning under the heaviest wrongs of Time with the hope of Immortality.
To scholars deeply versed in the niceties of Oriental languages, the most convincing proof of tlie comparatively modern date and authorship of this Book is to be found in its words, and idioms, and style. The base forms of Hebrew and the large intermixture of foreign terms, phrases, and turns of speech which characterize it, — these with the absence of the nobler rhythmic forms native to the purer Hebrew poetry are to them a conclusive demonstration that it was written during the Eabbinical period, — at a time long subsequent to that Augustan age in which Solomon lived and wrote. The Critics and Commentators whose names stand highest teU us that it would be just as easy for them to believe that Hooker wrote Blair's Sermons, or that Shakespeare wrote the plays of Sheridan Knowles, or that Lord Bacon wrote Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy — and improbability itself can hardly be stretched beyond that point — as to believe that King Solomon wrote Ecclesiastes. And, of course, on such questions as these we can only defer to the verdict of men who have made tliem the study of their lives.*
* Rosenmiiller, Ewald, Knobel, Do Wctte, Ginsburg, Davidson, and many- other compotont judg^es are agreed on this point ; and even those who in part diflFor from them, differ only in assigning the book to a date stiU further removed from the time of Solomon.
INTRODUCTION.
But with all our deference for learning, we have so often seen the conclusions of the ripest scholars reversed by their successors, and we all Icnow " questions of words " to be capable of so many opposing interpretations, that probably we should still hold our judgment in suspense were there no arguments against the common conceptions of Ecclesiastes " such as plain men use " and can under- stand. There are many such arguments, how^ever ; argu- ments, as it seems to me, of a most conclusive force.
As, for instance, this : — The whole social state described in this Book is utterly unlike what we know to have been the condition of the Hebrews during the reign of Solomon, but exactly accords with the condition of the captive Israelites who, at the disruption of the Hebrew monarchies, were.carried away into Babylonia. Under Solomon the Hebrew State was at its best and loftiest. His throne was surrounded by statesmen of a tried sagacity: his judges were incorrupt. Commerce grew and prospered till gold became as common as silver had been, and silver as common as brass. Literature flourished and produced its most perfect fruits. And the people, though heavily taxed during the later years of his reign, enjoyed a security, a freedom, an abundance unknown whether to their fathers or to their children. "Judali and Israel," writes the Sacred Historian,* painting a graphic picture with a few
* 1 Kings iv. 20, 25.
10 INTRODUCTION.
rapid touches, " were many in number as the sands by the sea, eating, and " drinking, and making merry. , . . And Judah and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under his figtree, from Dan even to Beersheba, all the days of Solomon." But as w^e read this Book we gather from it the picture of a social state in which kings were childish, and princes addicted to revelry and drunkenness ; * great fools were lifted to high places and rode on stately horses, while the nobles were degraded and had to tramp through the mire ;t the race was not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to the in- telligent, nor favour to the learned .| The most eminent public services were suffered to pass unrewarded and were forgotten the moment the need for them was past.§ Property was so insecure that to amass wealth was only to multiply extortions and to fall a prey to the cupidity of princes and judges ; insomuch that the sluggard who folded his hands so long as he had mere bread to eat was esteemed wiser than the diligent merchant who applied himself to the labours of traffic. || Life was as insecure as property, and stood at the mere caprice of men who were slaves to their own lusts; a hasty word spoken in the divan of any one of the Satraps, or even a resentful gesture^ might provoke the most terrible outrages. IF The true re-
* Chap. X. 16. -t Chap. x. G, 7- t Chap. ix. 11.
§ Chap. ix. 14, 15. |1 Chap. iv. 5, 6. f Chap. viii. 3, 4 ; x. 4.
INTRODUCTION. n
latiou between the sexes was violated ; tlio ruling classes crowding their harems with concubines, and even the wiser sort of men taking to themselves whatever woman they desired; while all, with cynical injustice, first degraded women, and then condemned them as alike and alto- gether bad, with chains for hands and a snare in place of a heart * The oppressions of the time were so constant, so cruel, and life grew so dark beneath them, that those who died long ago were happier than those who were stdl alive ; while happier than either w^ere those who had not been born to see the intolerable evils on which the sun looked calmly down day after day.-f- In fine, the whole fabric of the State was fast falling into ruin and decay through the greed and sloth of rulers who taxed the people to the very uttermost in order to supply their wasteful luxury ;| while yet, so dreadful was their tyranny and their spies so ubi- quitous, that no man dared breathe a word against them even to the wife of his bosom and in the secresy of his bedchamber :§ the only consolation of the oppressed was the grim hope that a time of retribution would overtake their tyrants from which neither power nor craft should be able to save them.||
Nothing would be more difficult than to accept this as a picture of the social and political features of the Hebrew
Chap. vii. 26, 28 ; ix. 9. f Chap. iv. 1—3. + Chap. x. 18, 19.
§ Chap. X. 20. II Chap. viii. -5—8.
12 INTRODUCTION.
State during tlie reign of Solomon. Nothing could well be more incredible than that this should be intended as a j)icture of his reigu, save that it should be a picture drawn hj his oion hand ! To suppose Solomon the author of this book is to suppose that the wisest of kings and of men was base enough to pen a deliberate and malignant libel on liimself, his time, and his realm ! While, on the other hand, this description, dark and lurid as it is, exactly accords with all we know of the terrible condition of the Jews who wept in captivity by the waters of Babylon. In all probability, therefore, as the most competent autho- rities are agreed, the Book is a parable rather than a history, written by an unknown author, during the Captivity, in what is known as the Piabbinical period of Hebrew literature, — certainly not bfefore B.C. 500, and pro- bably somewhat later.*
Nor is this inference, drawn from the style and general contents of the Book, unsupported by verses in it which at first sight seem altogether opposed to such an inference. All the special and direct indications of authorship con- tained in Ecclesiastes are to be found in the First Chapter.
The very first verse runs, " The Words of the Preacher, son of David, King in Jerusalem." Now David had only one son who was King in Jerusalem, viz., Solomon ; the verse therefore seems to fix the authorship on Solomon
* The fourth century, B.C., is its most probable date.
INTRODUCTION. 13
"beyond dispute. Simple and logical as that conclusion seems, it is nevertlielcss untenable. For observe (1), that in the known and admitted works of the Wise King, he distinctly and directly claims the authorship. The Book of Proverbs commences with " The Proverbs of Solomon," and the Canticles with "The Song of Songs which is Solomon's." But the Book Ecclesiastes docs not once mention his name, though it speaks of a " son of David." Instead of calling this son of David Solomon, it calls him " Coheleth" or, as we translate the word, " The Preacher." Now the word " Coheleth " is not a masculine noun as the name of a man should be, but a feminine and abstract noim. It denotes, not an actual man, but an abstraction, a personification, such, for instance, as "Wisdom" or " Virtue ; " it implies therefore that it is not tlie real, but a fictitious Solomon who is about to speak to us, that Solomon is not the author of the Book, but a person in the Drama it presents. (2). This " Son of David," we are told, was " King in Jerusalem ;" and in the precise Hebrew use of words the phrase indicates that the Book was written at a time when there either were or had been Hebrew Kings out of Jerusalem, when Jerusalem was not the only site of a royal throne, and therefore after the disrup- tion of Solomon's realm into the rival kingdoms of Israel and Judah. It is even possible that the phrase may imply the Book to have been written when there was no longer any King in Jerusalem. (3). Again, we iind Coheleth
It INTRODUCTION.
afBrming (12 v.), " I icas King over Israel in Jerusalem," and (IG v.), " I acquired greater wisdom than all who were before me in Jerusalem." Now, to say nothing of the questionable modesty of the latter sentence, if it fell from Solomon's pen, you wiU observe that it claims for him more than all (" all kings," i.e., say the Commentators) who were before him. But when Solomon sat on his throne in Jerusalem, he was only the second occupant of it ; for Jebus, or Jerusalem, was only conquered from a Philistine clan by his father David. And if there had been only one, how could he speak of " all " who preceded him ? (4). And stiU further, the tense of the verb in that phrase " I was King over Israel " indicates that when the Book was written Solomon was no longer King, It means, " I was king but I am king no more." Yet we know that Solomon reigned over Israel to the day of his death, that there never was a day on which he could have strictly used- such a tense as this. So clear and undisputed is the force of this Hebrew verb that even the Eabbis, who held and hold Solomon to be the author of Ecclesiastes, were obliired to invent a tradition to account for its use. And
O
a very pretty pathetic tradition it is. They said : " When King Solomon was sitting upon the throne of his kingdom, his heart was greatly lifted up within him by his pros- perity, and he transgressed the commandments of God, gathering to him many horses and chariots and riders, amassing much gold and silver, and marrying many wives
INTRODUCTION. . 15
of foreign extraction. Wherefore the anger of the Lord was kindled against him, and He sent against liini Ash- niodai, the ruler of the demons ; and he drave him from the throne of his kingdom, and took away the ring from his hand (Solomon's ring is famous for its marvellous powers in all Oriental fable), and sent him forth to wander about the world. And he went through the villages and cities, with a staff in his hand, weeping and lamenting, and saying, 'I am Coheleth; I was beforetime Solomon, and reigned over Israel in Jerusalem ; but now I rule over only this staff.' " We cannot but love this story for its beauty and pathos : and, though of course we must not accept it as history, we may learn from it that, even in the judgment of the Eabbis, the Book Ecclesiastes must, on its o^vn showing, have been written after Solomon had ceased to be king, i.e., after his death : the Eabbis are " hoist with their own petard."
So that all the phrases in this Book which are indica- tive of its authorship rather confirm than weaken the in- ference drawn from its style and contents : viz., that it was not written by Solomon, nor in his reign, but by a Eabbi of a long-subsequent period, who, by a dramatic imper- sonation of the experiences of Solomon, or of his own ex- periences combined with the Solomonic traditions, sought to carry comfort and instruction to his oppressed country- men.
But perhaps the most convincing argument in favour of
IG INTRODUCTION.
this conclusion is, that, when once we think of it, we cannot possibly accept the Solomon set before iis in Ec- clesiastes as the Solomon depicted in the Historical Books. Solomon, the Son of David, with all his wisdom, played the fool. The foremost man and Hebrew of his time, he gave his heart to " strange women," and to gods whose ritual was, not only idolatrous, but cruel, dark, impure. In his pursuit of science, imless the whole East belie him, he ran into secret magical arts, — incantations, divinations, an occult intercourse with demons or supposed demons. In all ways he departed from the God who had enriched him with the choicest gifts, and sank through luxury and excess, first into a premature old age,* and then into a death so hopeless, so unrelieved by any sign of penitence or any promise of amendment, that from that day to this rabbis and divines have discussed his final doom, many of them inclining to the darker alternative. This is the Solomon of History. But the Solomon of Ecclesiastes is a sage who conducts moral experiments for the good of the race, in order that with aU the weight of manifold ex- perience he may teach men what is that good and right way which alone leads to peace. Now, however hardly we may think of the Wise King who was guilty of so
* Solomon could not have been more than sixty years of ago wlien ho died ; yet it was not till he was "old" that his wives "turned away his heart from the Lord his God." — 1 Kings xi. 4.
INTRODUCTION. 17
many follies, "we can hardly tliink of Lini as sncli a fool that he did not know his sins to be sins, or as such a knave that he deliberately endeavoured to palm them on after ages, not as transgressions of the Divine Law, but as a series of delicate philosophic experiments which he was kind enoudi to conduct for the benefit of mankind. Even if we can conceive of him as thus seeking to cloak and palliate his sins, we may be very sure that the book in which he made so shameless an attempt would not have been admitted into the Sacred Canon.
On the whole, then, we conclude that, in this Book, Solomon is taken as the Hebrew type of wisdom — 11 ic wisdom which is based on large varied experience; and that this experience is here dramatized for the instruction of a people who from first to last, from the fable of Jotham to the parables of our Lord, were accustomed to receive moral instruction in fictitious and dramatic forms. Its author was not Solomon, but some unnamed Eabbi ; it was written, not in the time of Solomon, i.e. about 1000 B.C., but some five or six centuries later ; and it was addressed, not to the free, wealthy, cultured subjects of the Wise King, but to their degenerate descendants when these were enduring the wrongs and oppressions of the Persian Captivity.
As for the form and design of the Book there is no question that it sets before us the Quest of the Sumiimm Bomim, the Search for the Chief Good. Its main im- mediate design was to deliver the exiled Jews from the
2
18 INTRODUCTION.
misleading theories of morals current among them, from the sensualism and scepticism caused by their imperfect conceptions of the Divine Providence, by showing them that the true Good of life is not to be secured by philo- sophy, by the pursuit of pleasure, by devotion to business, by amassing wealth ; but that it results from a temperate enjoyment of the daily gifts of the Divine bounty, and a patient endurance of inevitable calamities, combined with the sincere service of God and a steadfast faith in that future life in which all wrongs will be righted and all the problems of providential rule will receive a triumphant solution. Instead of setting forth these truths in a meta- physical treatise, or a moral essay, or even in an authentic biography, our author throws them into a dramatic form. Availing himseK of the historical and traditional records of Solomon's life, he depicts him as conducting a series of moral experiments, as testing the claims of "Wisdom, ]\Iirth, Affairs, Wealth, and as finding them all incompetent to satisfy the cravings of his soul ; as attaining no rest or peace until he had learned a simple enjoyment of simple pleasures, a patient constancy under heavy trials, a heart- felt devotion to the service of God, and an unwavering faith in that future life whose dark portal men name Death.
This Drama consists of a Prologue, Four Acts or Sec- tions, and an Epilogue.
In the Prologue (Chap, I. vy. 1 to 11), Coheleth states the Problem to be solved.
INTRODUCTION. 19
111 tho First Section (Chap. I. v. 12, to Chap. II. v. 2G), he depicts the endeavour to solve it by seeking the Chief Good in Wisdom and Pleasure :
In the Second Section (Chap. III. v. 1, to Chap. V. v. 19), the Quest is pursued in Traffic and Political Life:
In the Third Section (Chap. VI. v. 1, to Chap. VIII. v. 15), the Quest is carried into Wealth and into the Golden Mean :
In the Fourth Section (Chap. VIII. v. 16, to Chap. XII. v. 7), the Quest is Achieved, and the Chief Good found to consist in a tranquil and cheerful enjoyment of the Present Life combined with a cordial faith in the Life to come.
And in the Epilogue (Chap. XII. w. 8 to 14), Coheleth summarizes and emphatically repeats this solution of the Problem of the Book.
Now it was very natural that the Providential problem here discussed should fill a large space in Hebrew tliought and literature ; that it should be, as you remember it was, the theme of many of the Psalms and of many of the prophetic " burdens " as well as of the Books Ecclesiastes and Job. For the Hebrew Eevelation did teach that virtue and vice would meet suitable rewards in the j)resent life. At the giving of the Law Jehovah announced that He would show mercy to the thousands of those who kept His commandments, and that He would visit the iniquities of the disobedient upon them to the third and fourth gene-
2*
20 INTRODUCTIOX.
rations. The Pentateucli is crowded with i^romises of temporal good to the righteous, and with threatenings of temporal evil to the unrighteous. The fulfilments of these threatenings and promises are carefully marked in the Hebrew Chronicles ; their fulfilment is the supplication which breathes through the recorded prayers of the Hebrew race and the theme of their noblest songs ; it is their hope and consolation under the heaviest calamities that befall them. What then could be more bewildering to a pious reflective Jew than to discover that this fundamental article of his faith was questionable, nay, that it was contradicted by the commonest facts of life. When he saw the righteous driven before the blasts of Adversity like a witli- ered leaf, while the wicked lived out all their days in mirth and affluence ; when he saw the only nation that attempted obedience to a Divine I^w groaning under the evils of a captivity embittered by the cruel caprices of an Oriental despotism and unrelieved by any hope of deliverance, while heathen races revelled in the lusts of sense and power unrebuked ; when tliis seemed to be the rule of Providence, the law of the Divine administration, and not that better rule revealed in his Scriptures : is it any wonder that, forgetting all corrective and balancing facts, he was racked with torments of perplexity ; that, while many of his fellows plunged into the base relief of sensualism, he should be plagued with doubts and fears, and search eagerly through all avenues of thought for some solution to the
INTRODUCTION. 21
problem which haunted his mind -with its suggestions of despair ?
Nor indeed is this problem without interest for us : for we as persistently misinterpret the New Testament as ever the Hebrews did the Old. We read that " whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap ; " we read that " the meek shall inherit the earth ; " we read that for every act of service done to Christ we shall receive " a hundredfold now in this present time : " and we are very ready with the gross careless interpretation which makes such passages mean that if we are good we shall have the good things of this life, while its evil things shall be reserved for the evil. Indeed we are trained in this in- terpretation from our earliest years. Our very spelling- books are full of it, and are framed on the model of " Johnny was a good boy and he got plum-cake, but Tommy was a bad boy and he got the stick." Nearly all our story-books have a similar moral : it is always the good young man who gets the beautiful wife and large estate, while the bad young man comes to a bad end. Our proverbs are full of it, and axioms such as " Honesty is the best policy," a pernicious half-truth, are for ever on our lips. Our art, in so far as it is ours, is in the same story. In Hogarth, for instance, as Thackeray has pointed out, it is always Franci Goodchild who comes to be Lord jMayor, and poor Tom Scapegrace who comes to the gallows. And when, as life passes on, we discover that it is the bad boy who often
22 INTRODUCTION.
gets most plum-cake and tlie good boy wlio goes to the rod, that bad men often have beautiful wives and large estates, while good men fail of both ; when we find the knave rising to j)lace and authority and honest Goodchild in the workhouse or the Gazette ; when we see the fraudu- lent contractor lifted to the peerage, or stockbrokers who have rigged the market and railway directors who have sworn to false balance-sheets settling down into wealthy chm-ch-going country gentlemen : then there rise up in our hearts the very scepticisms and perplexities and eager painful questions which of old time troubled the hearts of Psalmist and Prophet. We cry out with Job, —
It is all one — therefore mU. I say it,
The guiltless and the guilty He treateth alike ;
The deceiver and the deceived both are His :
or we say with the Preacher, —
This is the greatest evil of all that is done under the sun,
That there is one fate for all ; The same fate befaUeth to the righteous and to the wicked,
To the good and pure and to the impure, To him that sacrificeth and to him that sacrificeth not :
As is the good so is the sinner, And he that sweareth as he that feareth an oath.
Well for us if, like the Hebrew Dramatist, we can resist *his cruel temptation and hold fast the integrity of our faith ; if we can rest in the assurance that, after all and when all is done, " the little that a righteous man hath is
INTRODUCTION. 23
better than the riches of many M'icked;" that God lias something better than lucky haps and prosperous forhme for the <];ood, and merciful correctives of a more soverei'ni potency than penury and mishaps for the wicked ! If we have this faith, our study of Ecclesiastes can hardly fail to stablish and confirm it : if we are not so happy as to have it, Coheleth will give us soimd reasons for em- bracincr it.
§ 2. On the History of the Captivity.
If we may now assume the Book Ecclesiastes to have been written during the Babylonian Captivity, our next duty is to learn what we can of the social, political, and religious condition of the races among whom the Jews were thrown. That they learned much as well as suffered much while they sat by the waters of Babylon ; that they emerged from their long exile with a profound attachment to the Word of God such as their fathers had never known, and with many most precious additions to that "Word, is beyond a doubt. As plants grow fastest by night, so men make their most rapid increase in knowledge and faith when times are dark and troubled. And all students of
24 INTRODUCTIOX.
the period are at one in afTirniing that during the Cap- tivity a radical and most happy change passed npon the Hebrew mind. They came out of it with a hatred of idolatry, a faith in the life beyond the grave, a pride in their national Law, a hope in the advent of the Great Deliverer and Eedeemer, with which the elder Psalmists and Prophets had failed to inspire them, but which hence- forth tliey never relinquished. "With the religious there was blended an intellectual advance. Books and teachers were soucfht and honoured as never heretofore. Schools and synagogues sprang up in every town and village in which they dwelt. Of making of many books there was no end. Education was compulsory. Study, as we learn from the Hebrew proverbs, was regarded as more meri- torious than sacrifice, a scholar as greater than a ^Drophet, a teacher as greater than a king. Before the Captivity one of the most illiterate of nations, at its close the Jews were distinguished for their literary activity and a passionate zeal for education and intellectual culture.
To trace the progress of this marvellous revival of letters and religion, to weigh and appraise the various influences which contributed to it, would be a most welcome task, had we only the materials for it and the skill to use them. I have neither. Even the scanty materials that exist lie scattered through the literary and historic remains of many different races, — in the cylinders, sculptures, paintings, inscriptions, tombs, shrines of Nineveh,
INTRODUCTION. 26
Babylon, and Persepolis ; in the sacred Zendavesta, in the pages of Herodotus and the earlier Greek historians, in Josephus, in the Apocrypha, and in at least a dozen of the Old Testament Books. Probably there are not more than two or three scholars in England * who could write the unwritten history of this period; and even they, through lack of materials, could only write it in part. Yet what period is of greater interest to the student of the Bible ? A large number of the Old Testament Books, far larger than is commonly supposed, belong to this time ; tlie Books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, for instance, among the historical writings, and among the prophets, Jere- miah, Ezekiel, Daniel, Obadiah, Haggai, Zechariah, INIalachi ; many of the Psalms, too, are of this date ; many of the prophecies of Isaiah and of the Minor Prophets cotemporary with him refer to it ; at least portions of the Books of Kings and Chronicles must have been written in it, and the Book Ecclesiastes was its direct offspring. So that could we recover its history as written from the secular side, that history would throw new and most welcome light on well-nigh one haK of the Old Testament Scriptures.
* Sir Henry Rawlinson and Emmanuel Dcutscli arc two of these scholars ; the third is the Rev. George Rawlinson, to whose work on "The Five Great Monarchies of the Ancient Eastern World" I am largely indebted for the his- torical facts given in the following pages, as also to his " Herodotus" and to his Articles in Smith's " Dictionary of the BiLlc." I know of no fourth.
26 INTRODUCTION.
Happily it is no part of my duty so mucli as to attempt this arduous hopeless task. It will he enough if I give you such a sketch of the history of Bahylon during the Hehrew Captivity as will show you how, from their con- tact with the Babylonian and Persian races, the Jews re- ceived educational and religious impulses which go far to account for the marvellous change which passed upon them, — such a sketch as will enable you to read "the Preacher" intelligently and see how all his social and political allusions exactly correspond with what we know of that time.
About a hundred and twenty years after the destruction of the Kingdom of Israel by Shalmaneser King of Assyria (B.C. 719), the Kingdom of Judah fell before Nebuchad- nezzar King of Babylon (b.c. 598 — 596). The city, palace, and temple of Jerusalem were levelled in a common ruin ; the nobles, priests, merchants, and skilled artizans, all the pith and manhood of Judah were carried away captive : only a few of the lowest of the people were left to mourn and starve amid the ravaged fields. Nothing could present a more striking contrast to their native land than the region to which the Jews were transferred. Instead of a picturesque mountain country, with its little cities set on hills or on the brink of precipitous ravines, they entered on a vast plain, fertile beyond all precedent indeed, and abound- ing in streams, but with nothing to break the monotony
INTRODUCTION. 27
of level flats save the high walls and lofty towers of one enormous city. For Babylonia Proper was simply an immense plain (more strictly speaking, it consisted of two plains) lying between the Arabian Desert and the Tigris, and of an extent somewhat imder that of Ireland. But though of a limited area as compared with the vast empire of which it was the centre, owing to its amazing fertility it was capable of sustaining a crowded population. It was watered not only by the great rivers Tigris and Euphrates, but by their numerous affluents, many of which were themselves considerable streams, and it " was a land of brooks and fountains." On these rich alluvial plains, amply supplied with water, under the fierce heat of an Eastern sun, wheat and barley were indigenous and yielded a return far beyond all modern parallel. Nowhere else on the face of the earth, so far as we know, is wheat a weed springing spontaneously from the soil : and in this its native habitat it bore fruit two-hundred-fold, and, if some ancient writers are to be credited, even three- hundred-fold — between ten and fifteen times as much as it now yields in England.* Babylon, the capital city of this fertile province, was
* " Of all the countries that we Icnow, none is so fruitful in grain. . • • It is so fruitful as to j-ield commonly two-Lundred-fokl, and when the produc- tion is the greatest, even threc-hundred-fold. The blade of the wheat-plant and barley-plant is often four fingers in breadth." — Herodotus, Book I., chap. 193.
28 INTRODUCTION.
tliG largest and most magnificeut city of the ancient world. It stood on both sides of the river Euphrates, as London stands on both sides of the Thames ; but it was " nearly five times the size of London." It covered at least a hundred square miles, and was defended by broad massive walls of a hundred feet in height and about forty miles in circumference. These walls were pierced by a hundred gates, twenty-five, it is supposed, on each face ; and the main streets of the city, which was a vast square laid out with mathematical precision, ran across from gate to gate. The river Euphrates flowed through the middle of the city. " Its banks were built throughout with quays of brick, laid in bitumen, and were further guarded by two walls of brick which skirted them along their whole length." There was an access to the river at the end of every main street, defended by a brazen gate, and furnished with ferryboats for the convenience of those who wished to cross the stream. Of course this vast area was not covered with continuous streets of houses, some of which, by the bye, were three or four stories high. In the better quarters of the town the palaces of the King and his princes were surrounded by gardens, parks, orchards, paradises, — one of which, we are told, extended over eight miles. Nevertheless in the time of its prosperity the population must have been enormous, and its broad streets crowded with merchants, traders, soldiers, and pilgrims of every race.
INTRODUCTION. 29
lu this country and city (for "Babylon" stands for both in the Bible), so unlike the sunny cliffs and scattered villages of their native land, the Jews, who like all hill- races had a passionate affection for the land of their fathers, spent many bitter years. On these broad featureless plains they Joined for " the mountains " of Judea ;* they sat down by the waters of Babylon and wept as they remembered " the hill of the Lord." They do not seem, however, to have been handled with any exceptional harshness by their captors. They were treated as colonists rather than as slaves. They were allowed to live together in considerable numbers, and to observe their own religious rites. They took the advice of prophet Jeremiahj^f" who had warned them that their exile would extend over many years, and built houses, planted gardens, married wives, and brought up children ; they "sought the peace of the city" in which they were captives, " and prayed for it," knowing that in its peace they would have peace. If many of them had to labour gratuitously, as most of the conquered races had, on the great public works, many rose by fidelity, thrift, and diligence to places of trust and amassed considerable wealth. Among other Jews who filled high posts in tlie household or administration of the successive monarchs of Babylon were Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah;
* Ezekiel xiii., and Psalm cxxxvii. t Jeremiah xxix. 4 — 7.
30 INTRODUCTION.
Zerubbabel, Ezra, Neliemiali, and Mordecai ; Tobit — if indeed Tobit be a real and not a fictitious person — and liis nepbew Acliiacliarus.
But who were the people, and what the social and poli- tical conditions of the people, among whom the Hebrew captives lived ? The two leading races with whom they were brought in contact were the Babylonians — an offshoot from the ancient Chaldean stock — and the Persians. The history of the Captivity divides itself into two main periods, the Persian and the Babylonian, of each of which we must form as accurate a conception as w^e can.
1. The Bcibylonian Period. — For more than fifty years after they were carried away captive the Jews lived among the Chaldean race and were governed by Assyrian despots of whom JSTebuchadnezzar was by far the greatest, whether in peace or war. It is hardly too much to say that but for him the Babylonians would have had no place in history. A great soldier, a great statesman, a great builder and engineer, he knew how to consolidate his immense conquests, and to adorn his vast empire — an empire which, if historians speak the truth, " extended from the Atlantic to the Caspian, and from Caucasus to the Great Sahara." As yet, however, we owe — and till the Assyrian inscrip- tions are more fully and certainly translated, we must owe — our best conception of the personal character and private
INTRODUCTION. 3I
life of this great despot to the Book of Daniel. Daniel, although a Jew and a captive, was the vizier of the Baby- lonian monarch, and retained his high post until the Persian conquest, when he became the first of " tlie three presidents" of the new empire. He therefore paints Nebuchadnezzar from the life. And in his Book* we see the great king at the head of a magnificent court, sur- rounded by "princes, governors, and captains, judges, treasurers, councillors, and sheriffs," waited on by " well- favoured" eunuchs, attended by a crowd of astrologers and " wise men " who interpret to him the will of heaven. He is of an absolute power, and disposes with a word of the lives and fortimes of his subjects, even the highest and most princely. All offices are in his gift. He can raise a slave to the second place in his Idngdom (Daniel, to wit), and impose a foreigner (again, Daniel) on the priestly college as its head. Of so enormous a wealth that he makes an image of pure gold ninety feet high and nine feet broad, he lavishes it on public works — on temples, gardens, canals, walls — rather than on personal indulgence. Eeligious after a fashion, he wavers between " the God of the Jews " and the deity whom he calls " Ms god." In temper he is hasty and violent, but not obstinate ; he
* See Ra'wliiison's "Five Monarchies," vol. iii., chap, viii., pp. 499 — 501.
32 INTRODUCTIOX.
suddenly repents of his sudden resolves ; he is capable of bursts of gratitude and devotion no less than of fierce accesses of fury, and displays at times a piety and self- abasement astonishing in an Oriental despot. His successors — Evil-Merodach, JSTeriglissar, Laborosoarchod, Nabonadius, and Belshazzar — need not detain us. Little is known of them. With one exception, that of Nabona- dius, their reigns were very short; and their main task seems to have been the erection of vast and sumptuous structures such as Nebuchadnezzar had been the first to rear. Probably none of them save Nebuchadnezzar made any deep impression on the Hebrew mind.
And indeed the people of Babylon were much more likely than their despots to contribute to the formation of a new character in their captives. For with the people the Jews would be in daily contact and could not fail to be influenced by it. Now the Babylonians were marked by great intellectual ability. Keen to know, patient to observe, exact and laborious in their researches, their inferences, their conclusions, they could hardly fail to teach much to subject races and to inspire them with an ardent desire for knowledge. They had carried the sciences of astronomy and mathematics to a high pitch of perfection. By careful observations, by difficult and com- plicated calculations, they had succeeded in laying down the Zodiacal path — the constellations through which the sun passes — the courses of the planets, the recurrence and
INTRODUCTION. 33
causes of eclipses.* They determined -sviniin two seconds the exact length of the solar year ; tliey ^vc^e not far wrong in the distances at which they computed the sun, moon, and planets from the earth : and they compiled a serviceable catalogue of the fixed stars. It is strongly affirmed that they had discovered the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, in which case, as these moons are not discern- ible even in an Eastern heaven by tlie naked eye, they must have invented the telescope and learned to use it with good effect. The sun-dial is certainly, the astrolabe probably, of their invention. The Hebrew prophets often refer to their " wisdom and learning." The Greeks laud their " inventions " and accept the scientific data they had laid down. And though many of their wise men fell from astronomy into astrology, and from scientific observers into magi who professed to cast nativities, expound dreams, and foretell things to come, yet even in their study of the dark erratic shadows cast by the light of Science they, like the Alchymists of the middle ages, often lit on happy results.
The Babylonians excelled in architecture. Two of their vast structures, the Walls of Babylon and the Hanging Gardens, were reckoned among the Seven Wonders of the
* IIow accurately tliey observed the eclipses of the moon may be mierred from the fact that some of their observations have been recently tested, and found " to ans-wer all the requirements of modem science."
3
34 INTRODUCTION.
World. Their skill in manufacturing and arranging enamelled bricks* lias never yet been equalled by any other people : we, who need that art so much, might well learn of builders who died two thousand five hundred years ago. In all mechanical arts indeed — sucli as cutting stones and gems, casting gold and silver, blowing glass, modelling vases and ware, weaving carpets and muslins and linen, — they take a very high place among the nations of antiquity ; in some, the very highest ; their textile fabrics, for instance, being rated far above those of any of their rivals. With manufacturing skill they combined the spirit of enterprise and adventure which leads men to engage in commerce. They were addicted to maritime pursuits and excelled in them : " the cry " or joy " of the Chaldeans is in their ships," says Isaiah ;-f- and Ezekielj calls Babylonia " a land of traffic," and its chief city " a city of merchants."
But a large, and ]probably the largest, section of the people must have been occupied with the toils of agricul- ture ; the broad Chaldean plain, with its magnificent rivers, being famous, from the time of the patriarchs to the present day, for a fertility unequalled by other lands and well-nigh incredible. Wheat, barley, millet, and sesame
* There is a curious allusion to these enamelled bricks and the admiration
Jews conceived for them in Ezekiel xxiii. 14 — 16, f Isaiah xlii. 14. J Ezekiel xvii. 4.
INTRODUCTION. 35
all flourished ■with astonishmg luxuriance, the ground commonly returning a hundredfold, two hundredfold, and even ampler rewards for the toil of the husbandman.
"With all these abundant sources of wealth at their com- mand, the people naturally grew luxurious and dissolute. " The daughter of the Chaldeans," as we learn from Isaiah,* was " tender and delicate," given to pleasures, apt to dwell carelessly: her young men, says Ezekiel,f made them- selves " as princes to look at, exceeding in dyed attire upon their heads" (lofty fluted caps of many colours), painting their faces, wearing earrings, and clothing them- selves in soft and rich apparel. Chastity, in our modern sense of the term, was unknown; every Babylonian woman, however highborn and delicately reared, having to pros- titute herself once in her life as an act of religious duty in the temple of Beltis-t The pleasures of the table were carried to excess ; drunkenness was common and customary : to gratify animal passions was to serve the gods. Yet, like many other Eastern races, the Babylonians hid under their soft luxurious exterior a fierceness very formidable to their foes. The Hebrew prophets § describe them as " a bitter and hasty," a " terrible and dreadful "
* Isaiah xlvii. 1 — 8. t Ezekiel xxiii. 15.
X That this " most shameful ciistom " really obtained among the Babylonians is put beyond doubt by Herodotus (Book I., chap. 199), Strabo (xvi., p. 1058), and the Book of Baruch (chap. vi. 43).
§ Habakkuk i. 6 — 8, and Isaiah xiv. 16.
3*
36 INTRODUCTION.
people, " fiercer than tlie evening -wolves," a people who " made the earth tremble and did shake kingdoms : " and all the historians of that time charge them with a thirst for blood which often took the most savage and inhuman forms. Nor was this fierceness shown only to subject races, to captives and slaves. The highest nobles trembled for their heads if by the slightest fault they incurred the despot's displeasure ; the whole college of " wise men " was, as Daniel* tells us, all but cut off because they could not expound a dream which Nebuchadnezzar had dreamed and forgotten. Death was not considered a sufficient punishment for a serious offence unless preceded by torture. Offenders were slowly hacked to pieces, or cast into a furnace of fire ; their whole family often sharing their fate.
Of the horrible licence and cruelty of the Babylonian worship) of Bel, Merodach, and ISTebo, which did much to foster the savage cruel temper of the peo]Dle, it is not necessary, it is hardly possible, to speak. Eoughly taken, it was the service of the great forces of Nature by a frightful indulgence of the worst passions of man. It is enough to know that in Babylon idolatry took forms which henceforth made all forms of idolatry intolerable to he Jews ; that now, once for all, they renounced that wor-
* Daniel ii. 13.
INTRODUCTION. 37
ship of strange gods to whicli they and their fathers had always hitherto been prone. This of itseK was an immense advance, a great gain. Nor was it their only gain : for, if by contact with the idolatrous Babylonians the Jews were driven back upon their own Law and Scripture, their con- tact with a people of so active an intellect and a learning so profound led them to study the Word of Jehovah in a new and more intelligent spirit, to penetrate more pro- foundly into its meaning, and prepared them to value and pursue that intellectual culture which heretofore they had too much despised.* Nor is it less obvious that iu the social and political conditions of the Babylonians we have the key to many of the allusions to public life con- tained in Ecclesiastes. The great Empire, indeed, pre- sents precisely those elements which in degenerate times and imder feeble despots must inevitably develope into the disorder and misery and crime which Coheleth depicts.
2. The Persian Period. — The conquest of Babylon by the Persians is, thanks to Daniel, one of the most fami- liar incidents of ancient history. The defence of that city against the open and direct assaults of his troops had
* I have described at some length the marvellous outburst of litorary and educational activity which followed the Exile in the Exposition of chap, sii., verses 9 to 12, and therefore need only allude to it here.
38 IXTRODUCTION.
been so skiKul that Cyrus despaired of success. As a last resource, lie ventured on a stratagem so hazardous as to prove that he at least did not fear
To put his forttme to tlio toucli, And win or lose it all.
Withdrawing his forces from the environs of the city, he retired] to a distance along the banks of the Euphrates- Here, selecting a suitable spot, he set his troops to cut channels by which the main volume of its waters might be diverted from their course. When the channels were cut he waited for the arrival of a great feast in which, to pay due honom' to their gods, the whole population was wont to indulge in dnmken revelry. The feast came, and was kept with imusual splendour and extravagance. As though to mark his contempt for tlie enemy, Belshazzar aban- doned himseK to the spirit of the hour and gave a drinking banquet to a thousand of his lords. The whole city, with steady loyalty, followed the example of the king, and plunged into a "pious orgy" in which riot and excess were blended with religious frenzy. The public danger was forgotten, every precaution neglected. The river gates were neither closed nor guarded. A single sentinel might have saved the city. Meantime the Persians opened their sluices and let off the water till the river became fordable. They marched on and on for miles between the lofty massive walls which protected the banks of the stream, and in
INTRODUCTION. 39
whicli, as Herodotus remarks * liad they been detected, they Avoiild have been caught "as in a trap" and de- stroyed man by man without any possibility of escape or defence. They reached the unclosed gates which led up from the banks of the river to the heart of the city. They rose like shadows in the darkness from the stream — formed into column — advanced ; and then commenced a slaughter grim and great. The drunken revellers could render no resistance. The King was paralysed with fear at the mi- raculous handwritmg wliich sprang from the wall of his banqueting-room to announce that he had been weighed in the balance and found wanting. The Persians burst into the palace, and slew him and his lords in the midst of their orgy. They carried fire and sword through the city. When the morning broke, the empire had passed from the Babylonian to the Persian dynasty.
By this conquest the heroic Cyrus — " the Shepherd, the ^Messiah of the Lord," as Isaiah -f- terms him — he had already conquered the King of Lydia, Croesus, whose name is a fable of wealth to this day — became the undisputed master of well-nigh the whole known world. Nor does he seem to have been unworthy of his extraordinary position. Of all ancient Oriental monarchs, out of the Hebrew pale, he bears the highest repute. Active, heroically brave, with
* Herodotus I., 191. f Isaiah xliv. 28 ; xlv. 1.
40 INTRODUCTION.
a capacity for military affairs seldom equalled, lie was simple in liis liabits, and of a most just, humane, and clement spirit. For many generations lie was fondly re- membered as " tlie father of his people."
Cyrus was sixty years of age when he conquered Babylon (B.C. 539), and died ten years after the conquest in a petty and obscure conflict. He was succeeded (b.c. 529) by his son Cambyses, a despot possessed by the lust of conquest, but with neither his father's military capacity nor the blended justice and clemency by which C}Tns attached conquered races to his rule. One of his earliest acts was the privy murder of his brother Smerdis. From his sin sprang his punishment. So secretly was the murder effected that the very fact of his brother's death was doubted, and thus an opportunity was offered for personation — a crime very common in the East. The j\Iagi put forward a ]\Iagus who resembled the murdered Smerdis in face and person : the people hailed him as the veritable son of the great King. Cambyses, who had already alienated them by his cruel despotic humours, was on his return from the subjugation of Egypt when tidings of the revolt reached him; and, rather than dare an encounter with the rebels, committed an inglorious suicide. The ]3recautions of the pseudo- Smerdis, however, his fear of being seen and questioned, betrayed the imposture of the priests. The nobles, headed by Darius Hystaspes, an heir of the ancient Acheniffiuian dynasty, rose against him, and Darius reigned in his stead.
INTRODUCTION. 41
Darius was the great statesman of the Persian dynast}-, as Cyrus was its great soklier. He founded the " Satra- pial " form of administration : i.e., instead of governing the various provinces of his empire through native princes, he placed a Persian as satrap over each, this satrap being charged with the collection of the public revenues, the mamtenance of order, and the administration of justice ; in fact, he governed the whole Eastern world pretty much as we govern India now. The satraps were selected by the King himself, and were responsible to him alone : but as checks on their greed and ambition, an independent mili- tary commander was also appointed by the King to each of the provinces, and a secretary who was the " King's Eye and Ear," and whose main function was to kee]3 the Court informed by his despatches of all that took place. So that no satrap could revolt with any prospect of success until he had gained over the Commander of the forces and tlie royal Secretary, their interest being to hold him in check. By competent judges this mode of administration, of whicli I have given only a bare outline, is admired as the most perfect of any devised in ancient times, as the mode most likely to preserve the stability and order of the vast \m- wieldly empires which then stretched from India to Europe. The internal organization of the Empire was the gi'eat work of Darius through his long reign of six-and-thirty years ; but the event by which he is best remembered, and which proved to be fruitful in the most disastrous results
42 INTRODUCTION.
to the State, was the commencemeut of that fatal war with the Greeks which at last reached its close in the downfall of the Persian Empire.
His son Xerxes succeeded to the throne in the year B.C. 486, and reigned twenty-one years. Saving for an occa- sional act of generosity, Xerxes was as contemptible an in- stance of the Oriental despot as can well be found. Selfish, fickle, boastful, passionate, licentious, cruel, of a weak brain and a bad heart, he ran an undeviating career of folly and vice. The story of his war with Greece, of the con- quest of his millions by the hundreds of Athens and Sparta, is told in our school-books, and need not be re- peated here. The very traits in his character which the Greeks noted for their contempt appear, as we shaU soon see, in a picture of him drawn by an inspired hand.
Xerxes was succeeded by Artaxerxes Longimanus, to whom Nehemiah was cupbearer. He reigned forty years (B.C. 465 — 425) ; but though he appears to have been an amiable and Idudly man, he was, like many other amiable men, utterly unfit to be a Idng. Feeble and irresolute, the mere tool of a wicked sister (Amytis) and a yet more wicked mother (Amestris), the slack bands of authority were stUl further slackened during his long inglorious reign. At his death there naturally occurred a period of anarchy from which one prince rose after another in quick succession, some of them reigning only for a few months,
INTRODUCTION. 13
one for only a few days ; each, with rare exceptions, worse than the last. The decay was only once arrested. Ochus, who made some little stand against it, if an able ruler, was the most cruel, perhaps the only ferocious and blood- thirsty, despot of the Persian dynasty. We need not trace the various issues of this " battle of kites and crows." From the accession of Xerxes (b.c. 48G) down to the con- quest of the Persians by the Greeks under Alexander the Great {circa B.C. 330), the Empire was declining to its fall. Its history is a mere succession of intrigues and in- surrections, conspiracies and revolts. "Battle, murder, and sudden death " are its staple. The restraints of law and order grew ever weaker. The satraps w^ere practi- cally supreme in their several provinces, and used their power to extort enormous wealth from their miserable subjects. Eunuchs and concubines ruled in the palace. Manliness died out of the national habits (the Persians were no longer taught "to ride, to draw the bow, and to speak the truth"); cunning and treachery took its place. The scene grows more and more pitiful till at last the welcome darkness rushes down and hides the ignoble agony of perhaps the vastest and wealthiest empire the world has ever seen.
So much for the despots. Let us now attempt to form some acquaintance with the people, the Persian people
41 INTRODUCTION.
who, by the conquest of Cyrus, became the ruling class in the Empire ; always remembering, however, that the Baby- lonians must have remained by myriads both in the capital and in the provinces, and would continue to exert their influence on Hebrew thought and culture.
In all moral and religious qualities the Persians were far in advance of the Chaldeans, though they were pro- bably behind them in many civilized arts. They were famous for their truth and valour. The Greeks* confessed the Persians to be their equals in " boldness and warlike spirit" — ^schylusi" calls them a "valiant-minded people" — while they are lavish in praise of the Persian veracity, a virtue in which they themselves never shone. To the Persians God was " the Father of all truth ;" to lie was shameful and irreligious. They disliked traffic because of its haggling, equivocation, and dishonest shifts. They were free and open in their speech, keen of wit, bold in action, generous, cordial, hospitable, " Their chief faults," and even these were not fully developed till they became masters of the world, " were an addiction to self-indulgence and luxury, a passionate cibandon to the feeling of the hour whatever it might be, and a tameness and subservi- ence in all their relations towards their princes which seem to moderns incompatible with real self-respect and manli-
* Herodotus IX., 62. f -iEschyl. Pers. 94.
INTRODUCTION. 45
ness." ratriotisni came to mean mere loyalty to tlio monarch : the habit of unquestioning submission to his M-ill, and even to his caprice, became a second nature to them. The despotic humour natural in " a ruling person " was thus nourished till it ran to the wildest excess. " He was their lord and master, absolute disposer of their lives, liberties, and property, the sole fountain of law and right, incapable himself of doing wrong, irrespon- sible, irresistible, — a sort of god upon earth ; one whose favour was happiness, at whose frown men trembled, before whom all bowed themselves down with the lowest and humblest obeisance."* No subject could enter his presence save by special permission, or without a prostra- tion like that of worship. To come unbidden was to be cut down by the royal guards unless, as a sign of grace, he held out his golden sceptre to the culprit. To tread on the king's carpet was a grave offence : to sit, even unwittingly, on his seat a capital crime. So slavish was the submission both of nobles and people that we are required on good authority to accredit such stories as these : wretches basti- nadoed by the king's order declared themselves delighted that his majesty had condescended to remember them : a father, whose innocent son was shot by the despot in pure
* Ra-wlinson, from ■whom I quote, gives abundant authorities for this almost incredible description. He gives chapter and verse for every item in it in his " Five Monarchies."
46 INTRODUCTION.
wantonness, had to crush down his natural indignation and grief, and to compliment the joyal archer on the excellence of his shooting.
Desi)ising trade and commerce as menial and degrading, the ruling class of a vast empire, with a monopoly of office and boundless means of wealth at their command, accus- tomed to lord it over subject races, of a high spirit and a pure faith, their very prosperity was their ruin, as it has been that of many a great nation. In their earlier times, they were noted for their sobriety and temperance. Con- tent with simple diet, their only drink was water from the pure mountain streams ; their garb was plain, their habits homely and hardy. But their temperance soon gave place to an immoderate luxury.* They acquired the Baby- lonian vices, and adopted at least the licence of the Babylonian rites. They filled their harems with wives and concubines. Trom the time of Xerxes onwards they grew nice and curious in their appetites, eager for pleasure, effeminate, dissolute. New dishes and new sauces for their table ; cosmetics, paint, jewelry, false hair, and costly garments for their personal adornment ; rich carpets, soft couches, sumptuous furniture for their houses, became as
* " There is no nation -whicli so readily adopts foreign customs as tlie Persians. ... As soon as they hear of any luxury they instantly make it their own. . . . Each of them has several -wives, and a still larger number of concubines." — Serodotus, Book I., chap. 135.
INTRODUCTION. 47
tlio necessaries of life to them. " A useless multitude ol' lazy menials was entertained in all ricli households, each servant confining himself rigidly to a single duty, and porters, brcadmakers, cooks, cup-bearers, water-bearers, waiters at table, chamberlains, ' awakers,' ' adorners,' all distinct from one another, crowded each noble mansion,* helping forward the general demoralization."
With tliis growth of luxury on the part of the- nobles and the people, tlie fear of the despot at whose mercy all their acquisitions stood, grew more intense, more harassing, more degrading. Xerxes and his successors were utterly reckless in their exercise of the absolute irresponsible power conceded to them, and delegated it to favourites as reckless as themselves. No noble however eminent, no servant of the State however faithful or distinguished, could be sure that he might not at any moment incur a displeasure which would strip liim of all he possessed, even if it did not also condemn him to a cruel and lingering death. Out of mere sport and wantonness, to relieve the tedium of a weary moment, the despot might slay him with his own hand. Tor the crime, or supposed crime, of one person, a whole family, or class, or race, mifrht bo cut off unheard. Of the lengths to wliich his cruelty and caprice might go we have a sufficient example
* For a description of sucli a household and its crowd of servants see Ecclesiastes xii. 1 — 7, and the Commentary on that passage.
48 INTRODUCTION.
in tlie Book of Esther. The Ahasuerus of that remarkable narrative was, there can hardly be any doubt, the Xerxes of secular history, — the very names,* unlike as they sound, are the same name differently pronounced by two different races. Everything in this Book is on a colossal scale, down to the caprices of the despot. Xerxes calls a great divan, summoning all the princes and officials of the empire to his palace; in all probability, as Eichhorn has shown, they met to deliberate on the fatal war with Greece. The consultation extends over a "hundred and fourscore days," the nights of which are given to feasting, and winds up with a seven days' carousal.-f When his heart was " merry "with wine," the king commands that Vashti his queen should be brought into the banqueting- hall to show her beauty to the people and the princes. Now to this day it is a gross indecorum so much as to ask a Persian after the health of his wife, or in any way to allude to her existence. And in the ancient Persian sculptures there is not a single reference to or representa- tion of a woman. The modern reserve is simply a remnant of ancient custom: and therefore the command sent by Xerxes to Vashti was a command to dishonour herself and
* Their common root is tho Sanscrit Kshatra, a king ; in the inscriptions of Porsopolis this word appears as Kshcrshe : and from this both tho Hebrew Achashucrash (Ahasuerus) and the Greek Xerxes ^vould easily be formed. Esther i. 3—5.
INTRODUCTION. 49
him. She refuses to do him this clishonour; and for crossing his caprice to save his honour she is deposed, repudiated. This was in the third year of his reign.* And in the seventh year, the year in -wliich he returned defeated from the war with Greece to console himself, as Herodotusf tells us, with the pleasures of the harem, we learn from the Book of Esther that he determined to select a successor to Vashti. All " the fair young virgins" of the empire are at his service ; even Mordecai, the rigid Jew, seems to have had no feeling for his niece Esther except the hope that she might please the king. "VMien her turn comes, she is fortunate or unfortimate enough to find "grace and favour;" the king "loves her above all the women" he has seen as yet, and she is made his queen. :{: Mordecai discovers the plot of two eunuchs of the palace against the king's life; Esther warns the king, and the eunuchs are " hanged on a tree." Haman, an Amalekite— a foreigner therefore, and probably a captive — is vizier, and hates the stubborn Hebrew who alone of the king's servants will not bow down before him. AVhat revenge does he propose to take? Simply to destroy the whole people of the Jews. To secure his revenge, he offers the
* Comp. Esther i. 3, -vrith Herodotus rii. 7 ff.
t Comp. Herodotus IX. 108, -vrith Esther ii 1 — 4, and 16.
X There is only too much reason to fear that she degenerated into tho cruel and licentious Amestris, the scourge of the Empire during the reign of Artaierxes her son.
4
50 INTRODUCTION.
monarcli " ten thousand talents of silver," a sum said to be equal to £2,000,000, if ouly he may have his way. And the wasteful lawless Xerxes is glad to take the money and to seal the decree of extermination. Haman goes home to gloat over his revenge and to build a gallows fifty cubits high from which he hopes to see the detestable Mordecai swing. A royal caprice baulks him of his revenge. The king can't sleep ; the chronicles of his reign, fulsome enough no doubt, must be read to him. The book opens on the story of Mordecai's fidelity. " What has been done for him?" asks the king, who had forgotten the man and his service. " Nothing," is the reply. And now Mordecai comes to honour. Mordecai and Esther use their oppor- tunity and beg the lives of their race. The king utters an angry word when Haman is banqueting with him, and " as the word went out of the king's mouth," his attendants " cover Haman's face." He is hanged on the very gallows he had built for the Jew, as are also his ten sons. The Jews are saved : but how ? Instead of rescinding his lawless decree, the king issues a decree stiU more lawless. He had ordered his faithful subjects to fall on the Jews : now he orders the Jews to fight in their own defence. Both decrees are obeyed — obeyed in his very palace, where "five hundred" of his subjects are slain in attempting to execute his order ; while in the provinces no less than "seventy and five thousand" find death through their loyalty.
INTRODUCTION.
Was there ever a more •wicked lawless tragedy ? Such a story gives us our profoundcst impression of the im- mense force and sweep of a tyrant's lust and caprice, of the frightful degradation of his subjects, of the utter inse- curity of life and fortune under the dark shadow of which the Jews had to spend so many years. Yet this is but a sample of the capricious violence which was habitual with Xerxes. AU that the Book of Esther relates of the despot who repudiates a wife because she will not expose herself to the drunken admiration of a crowd of revellers, who raises a servant to the highest honours one day and hangs him the next, who commands the massacre of an entire race and then bids them inflict a horrible carnage on the officers who execute his decree, exactly accords with the Greek narratives which depict him as scourging the sea because it breaks down his bridge over the Hellespont, beheading the engineers whose work was swept away by a storm, wantonly putting to death the sons of Pythias, liis oldest friend, before their father's eyes ; as first giving to his mistress the splendid robe presented him by his queen and then giving up to the queen's barbarous ven- geance the mother of his mistress ; as shamefully misusing the body of the brave Lconidas, and after his defeat by the Greeks giving himself up to a criminal voluptuousness and offeriQg a reward to the inventor of a new pleasure.
The Book Ecclesiastes was written certainly not before
4*
62 INTRODUCTION.
the reigu of Xerxes "(i^-C 486 — 465), and probably, some years after it, during that long period of anarchy which followed his reign; and in which, bad as were the conditions of his time, the times grew ever more lawless, despotism more intolerable, the violence and licence of subordinate officials more unblushing. But at whatever period within these limits we may place it, all we have now learned of the Babylonians and Persians during the later years of the Captivity is in entii-e correspondence with the social and political state depicted by the Preacher. The abler and more kindly despots — as Cyrus, Darius, Artaxerxes — showed a singular favour to the Jews. Cyrus published a decree permitting the Jews to return to Jeru- salem and rebuild their temple and enjoining all the officials of the empire to further them in their enterprise : Darius confirmed that decree, despite the misrepresenta- tions and the vindictive hostility of the Samaritan colonists. Artaxerxes held Ezra and Nehemiah in high esteem and sent them to restore order and prosx3erity among the returned captives. But a large number, perhaps even a majority, of the Jews, unable or disinclined to return to the city of their fathers, remained in the various provinces of the Great Empire and were subject to the despotic caprice and violence from which the Persians themselves were not exempt. " Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! " cries the Preacher till wc are well-nigh weary of hearing the mournful refrain. ]\Iight he not well
INTRODUCTION. 63
take that tone in a time so horribly out of joint, so lower- ing, so dark ? The Book is full of allusions to tlie Persian luxury, to the Persian forms of administration, above all, to the capricious despotism of the later years of the Persian Empire and the corruptions and miseries it bred. Coheleth's elaborate description* of the infinite variety of means by which he sought to allure his heart unto mirth — his palaces, vineyards, pleasure-grounds, with their reservoirs and fountains, crowds of attendants, treasures of gold and silver, the harem full of beauties of all races — seems taken direct from the ample state of some Persian grandee. His picture of the public administration^f in which "superior watcheth superior, and superiors again watch over them " is a graphic delineation of the satra- pial system, with its hierarchy of inferior officers rising grade above grade, which was the work of Darius the Statesman. When the animating spirit of that system was taken away, when weak foolish despots sat on the throne and minor despots just as foolish and weak ruled in every provincial divan, there ensued precisely that political state to which Coheleth perpetually refers.:]: Inic|uity sat in the place of judgment, and in the place
* Ecc. ii. 4—8. t Ibi<i- v. 8, 9.
X It would bo possible to collect from the Psalms of this date materials for a description of the miseries inflicted on the Jews, and their keen sense of them, qxiite as graphic and intense as that of tho Preacher. Here are a few phrases
54 INTRODUCTION.
of equity there was iniquity ;* kings grew cliildisli and princes spent their days in revehy :i- fools were lifted to liigh places wliile nobles were degraded, and slaves rode on horses wliile their quondam masters walked
taken from these plaintive and pathetic Psalms. The oppressors of Israel are described as being "clothed with cruelty as with a garment;" as "returning evil for good, and hatred for good-will."
They smite down Thy people, O Jehovah,
And trouble Thine heritage ; They murder the widow and the stranger,
And put the fatherless to death : Yet they say, Tush, Jehovah shall not see, Neither shall the God of Jacob regard it. — (xciv.)
They re\ile me, and cease not. With shameless mocking, full of lies ;
They gnash upon me with their teeth. — (xxxv.)
I am bowed down, and brought very low ;
I go mourning all the day long : Truly, I am nigh unto falling.
And my heaviness is ever before me. — (xxxviii.)
My days are consumed like smoke.
And my bones are burned up Mke a firebrand :
My heart is smitten down and Avithered like grass. So that I forget to eat my bread. — (cii.)
I am helpless and poor. And my heart is woimded within me. — (cix.)
Most of "the imprecatory Psalms" belong to this period; and the terrible wrongs of the Capti-^-ity, though they do not justify, in large measure explain and excuse that desire for vengeance which has given so much offence to some of our modem critics.
* Ecc. iii. 16. t If>ii^- x- 16.
INTRODUCTION. 65
iipou tliG ground* Tlicro was no fair or certain reward for faithful service : the race was not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favour to the learncd.f Death brooded in the air, and might fall suddenly and imforeseen on any head however liigh.:{: To correct a public abuse was like pulling down a wall ; some of the stones were sure to fall on the reformer's feet, from some moss-grown cranny a serpent was sure to start out and bite him.§ To breathe a word against a ruler even to one's wife and in the bedchamber was to run the hazard of destruction. || A resentful gesture, much more a rebellious word in the divan, was enough to pro- voke the gravest outrage.^ In short, the whole j)olitical fabric was falling into disrepair and decay, the rain leak- ing through the rotting roof : while the miserable people were ground down with ruinous exactions in order that the rulers mi^ht revel on undisturbed.** It is under such a pernicious and ominous maladministration of public affairs and the appalling miseries it breeds, that there springs up in the hearts of men that fatalistic and hopeless temper to wliich Coheleth gives frequent expression. Better never to have been born, than to live 'a life so thwarted and cramped, so fuU of perils and fears ! Better to snatch at every pleasure, however poor and brief, than seek by self-
* Ecc. X. 6, 7. t Ibid. ix. 11. J Ibid. ix. 12. § Ibid. x. 8, 9.
II Ibid. X. 20. H Ibid. x. 4 ; viii. 2, 3. ** Ibid. x. 18, 19.
56 INTRODUCTION.
denial, by Aartue, by integrity to gain a store wliicli the first petty tyi-ant who gets mnd of it will sweep off, or a reputation for wisdom and goodness whicb will be no protection against the despotic humours of men dressed in a little brief authority !
If our own great poet,* in an unrestful and despairing mood strangely foreign to his serene temperament, beheld —
Desert a beggar bom,
And needy notHng trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced. And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted. And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled. And art made tongue-tied by authority. And folly, doctor like, controlling skill. And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captaia ill ;
if, " tired with all these," he cried for " restful death," we can hardly wonder that the Preacher, who had fallen on times so evil that compared with his Shakespeare's were good, should prefer death to life.
But there is another side to this sad Story of the Cap-
* Shakespeare's Sonnets, Isvi.
INTRODUCTION. 67
tivity, another and a nobler side. If the Jews suffered much from Persian misrule, they learned much and gained much from the Persian faith. In its earliest form the religious creed of the Persians, the creed whose documents Zoroaster afterwards collected and enlarged in the Zend- Avesta, was the purest lalo^vn to the heathen. Cyrus and Darius held to it firmly, and even imder their successors, though it was in much corrupted, it was stiU preserved in Songs (Gathas) and Traditions. There can be no reason- able doubt that it largely affected the subsequent faith of the Hebrews ;* — not indeed teaching them any truth they had not been taught before, but constraining them to recog- nize truths in their Scriptures which hitherto they had not seen : and therefore we must try to acquire some concep- tion of the Persian system of doctrine and morals.
In its inception it was a revolt against the sensuous and sensual worship of the great forces of Nature into which the Hindus had degraded the primitive faith still to be recovered from the sacred Eig-Veda. It acknowledged persons, — real spiritual intelligences, in place of mere natural powers: and it drew moral distinctions between them, dividing these ruling intelligences into good and bad, pure and impure, benignant and malevolent — an immense advance on the mere admiration of whatever was
♦ I apprehend that tho sojourn in Babylon did for Hebrew dogma vcrj' much •what the sojourn in Egypt did for the Hebrew ritual.
5S INTRODUCTION.
strong. Nay, in some sense the Persian faith affirmed monotheism against polytheism : for it asserted that one Great Intelligence ruled over all other intelligences, and through them over the universe. This Supreme Intelli- gence, which the Persians called Ahura-mazda (Ormazd), is the true Creator, Preserver, Governor of all spirits, all men, all worlds. He is "good," "holy," "pure," "true;" " the Father of all truth," " the best Being of aU," " the ISIaster of purity," " the Source and Fountain of all good." On the righteous he bestows " the good mind " and ever- lasting happiness ; while he punishes and afflicts the evil. The worshippers of this supreme spiritual Intelligence were to the last degree intolerant of idolatry. They suffered no image to profane their temples : their earliest symbol of Deity is almost as pure and abstract as a mathe- matical sign, — a circle with wings; the circle to denote the eternity of God, the wings His omnipresence. Under this supreme Lord, "the God of Heaven," they admitted inferior beings, angels and archangels, whose names mark them out as personified Divine attributes, or as faithful servants who administer some province of the Divine government.
To win the favour of the God of Heaven it was requisite to cultivate the virtues of truthfulness, purity, industry, and a pious sense of the Divine presence: and these virtues must spring from the heart, and cover thought as well as word and deed. His worship consisted in the
INTRODUCTION. 69
frequent offering of prayers, praises, and thanksgivings ; in the reiteration of certain sacred hymns ; in the occasional sacrifice of animals which, after being presented before Ormazd, furnished forth a feast for priest and worshipper : and in the performance of a mystic ceremony (the Soma), the gist of which seems to have been a grateful acknow- ledgment that the fruits of the earth, typified by the intoxicating juice of the Homa plant, were to be received as the gift of Heaven. A sentence or two from one of the Hymns,* of which we have many in the Gathas of the Zendavesta, will show better than many words to how high a pitch divine worship was carried among the Persians : " "We worship Tliee, Ahura-mazda, the pure, the master of purity. We praise all good thoughts, all good words, all good deeds which are or shall be : and we likewise keep clean and pure all that is good. 0 Ahura-mazda, thou true happy Being ! "We strive to think, to speak, and to do only such things as may be best fitted to promote the two lives " (i.e. the life of the body and the life of the soul).
In this course of well-doing the faithful were animated and confirmed by a devout belief in the immortality of the soul and a conscious future existence. They were taught that at death the souls of men, both good and bad, tra-
* I take tho quotation from Ilawlinson, who ^nvcs as lii.s ftutliority Ilaug's £ssai/s, pp. 162-3. Of course, there are many sentences in tho Gathas not so admirable as those cited above.
60 INTRODUCTION.
veiled along an appointetl path to a narrow bridge wMcli led to Paradise : over tliis bridge only pious souls could pass, the wicked souls falling from it into an awful gulf in which they received the due reward of their deeds. The happy souls of the good were helped across the long narrow arch by an angel, and as they .entered Paradise a great arch- angel rose from his throne to greet each of them with the words, " How happy art thou who hast come here to us from the mortality to the immortality ! "
This wonderfully pure creed was, however, in process of time corrupted in many ways. Pirst of all, " the sad anti- thesis of human life," the conflict between light and dark- ness, good and evil, — the standing puzzle of the world — ^led the votaries of Ormazd to ducdism. Ormazd loved and created only the good. The evil in man and in the world must be the work of an enemy. This enemy, Ahriman (Angro-mainyus), has been seeking from eternity to undo, to mar and blast, the fair work of the God of Heaven. He is the baleful author of all evil, and under him are spirits as malignant as himself. Between these good and evil powers there is incessant conflict, a conflict which extends to every soul and every world. It will never cease until the great Deliverer arise — and even of Him the Persians seem to have had some dim conception — who shall over- master and destroy evil at its source, all things then round- ing to their final goal of good.
Another corrupting influence had its origin in a too
INTRODUCTION. Gl
literal interpretation of the Names given to the Divine Being by the founders of the faith. Ormazd, for example, had been described as " true, hicid, shining, the originator of all the best things, of the spirit in nature and of the growth in nature, of the luminaries aiid of the sclf-shininj hrightncss ?vhich is in the luminaries." From these epithets and ascriptions there sprang in later days the worship of the Sun, then of the fire, as a type of God — a worship still maintained by the disciples of Zoroaster, the Ghebers and the Parsees. And from this point onward the old sad story repeats itself; once more we have to trace a puye and lofty primitive faith through the grades to which it declines on the low base level of a sensuous idolatry. The Magians, always the bitter enemies of Zoroastrianism, held that the four elements, fire, air, earth, and water were the only proper objects of human reverence. It was not difficult for them to persuade those who already worshipped fire, and were beginning to forget of AVhom fire was the symbol, to include in their homage water and earth and air. Divi- nation, incantations, the interpretation of dreams and omens soon followed, with all the dark shadows wliich science and religion cast behind them. And then came the lowest deep of all, that worship of the gods by sensual indulgences to which idolatry seems inevitably to gravitate.
Nevertheless we must remember that even at their worst the Persians preserved the sacred records of their
62 INTRODUCTION.
earlier faith, and that their best men always refused to accept the base additions to it which the Magians proposed. Corrupt as in many respects many of them became, the conquest of Babylon was the death-blow to the sensual idol-worship which had reigned for twenty centuries on the vast Chaldean plains : it never wholly recovered from it, though it survived for a time. From that date it declined to its fall : " Bel bowed down ; Nebo stooped •* Merodach was broken in pieces."-|- As I have said, the noblest monarchs of Persia were true disciples of the primitive creed of their race. And, beyond a doubt, it was similarity of creed which won their favour for the Hebrew Captives. CjTus, in the decree^ that enfranchised them, expressly identifies Ormazd, the God of Heaven, with Jehovah, the God of Israel ; he says : " TJie Lord God of Heaven hath given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and He hath charged me to build Him a house at Jerusalem. Who is there among you of all His people ? His God be with him, and let him go up to Jerusalem and build the house of the Lord God of Israel — He is the God."§ Nor was this
* Isaiali xlvi. 1. •)• Jeremiah 1. 2. J Ezra i. 2, 3.
§ Darius also identifies Jehovat with Ormazd in the remarkable decree with which he silenced the un-scrupulous opposition of the Samaritans, declaring that it was for the advantage of the Persian Empire that " the house of God" should be rebuilt in Jerusalem, since in that temple " sacrifices of sweet savours" would be offered to " the God of Heaven," and prayers be uttered "for the life of the king and of his sons."— (Ezra vi. 10.)
INTRODUCTION. 63
belief in one God, whose temple was to be defiled by no image of Himself, the only point in common between the better Persians, such as Cyrus and Darius, and the better Jews. There were many such points. Both believed in an evil spirit tempting and accusing men ; in m}Tiads of angels, all the host of heaven, who formed the armies of God and did His pleasure ; in a tree of life, and a tree of knowledge, and a serpent the enemy of man : both shared an iconoclastic hatred of idols and graven images, the hope of a coming Deliverer from evil, the belief in an immortal life beyond the grave and a happy Paradise in which all righteous souls would find their home and see their Father's face. These common faiths and hopes would all be points of sympathy and attachment between the two races : and it is to this agreement in religious doctrine and practice that we must ascribe the striking fact, — ^that the Persians, ordinarily the most intolerant of men, never persecuted the Jews ; and that the Jews, ordinarily so impatient of foreign domination, never made a single attempt to cast off the Persian yoke, nay, stood by the declining empire when the Greeks were thunderintr at its cjates.
On one question all competent historians and commen- tators are agreed : viz., that the Jews gained immensely in the clearness and compass of their religious faith during the Captivity. The Captivity which was the punishment was also the limit of their idolatry: into that sin they never afterwards fell. Now first, too, they began to
64 INTRODUCTION.
imderstaud that the bond of their unity was not local, not national even, but spiritual and religious : they were spread over every province of a foreign empire, yet they were one people and a sacred people in virtue of their common service of Jehovah and their common hope of Messiah's coming. This hope had been vaguely felt before, and just previous to the Captivity Isaiah had arrayed it in an unrivalled splendour of imagery: now it sunk into the popular mind and became a deep longing of the national heart. Erom this period, moreover, the immortality of the soul and the life beyond death entered distinctly and pro- minently into the Hebrew Creed. Always latent in their Scriptures, these truths disclosed themselves to the Jews as they came in contact with the Persian doctrines of judgment and future rewards. Hitherto they had thought mainly, if not exclusively, of the temporal rewards and punishments by which the Mosaic Law encouraged the good and threatened the wicked: henceforth they saw that in time and on earth human actions are not carried to their final and due results; they looked forward to a judgment in which all wrongs should be righted, all un- punished evils receive their recompense, and all the sufferings of the good be exchanged for endless joy and peace.
Now this, as we shall see, is the very moral of the Book Ecclesiastes, the triumphant climax to which it mounts. The endeavour of Coheleth is to show how evil and good
INTRODUCTION. 66
blended in the human lot, evil so largely preponderating in tlie lot of many of the good as to make life a curse imless it were sustained by hope ; to give hope by assuring the Hebrew Captives that " God takes cognisance of all things" and "will bring every work to judgment," good or bad ; and to urge on them, as the conclusion of his Quest of Good and as the whole duty of man, to prepare them- selves for that Divine Judgment by fearing God and keeping His commandments. This was the light he was commissioned to carry into their great darkness ; and if the lamp and the oil were of God, it is hardly too much to say that the spark which kindled the lamp was taken from the Persian fire, since that also was of God. Or, to vary the figure and to make it more accurate, we may say, that the truths of the future life lay hidden in the Hebrew Scrip- tures, and that it was by the light of the Persian doctrine of the future that the Jews discovered them in the Word. It is thus indeed that God has taught men in all ages. The Word remains ever the same, Init our circumstances change, our mental posture varies, and with our posture the angle at which the light of Heaven falls on the sacred page: we are brought into contact with new races, new ideas, new discoveries of science, and the familiar Word forthwith teems with new meanings, witli new adaptations to our needs : truths unseen before, though they were always there, come to sight, deep truths rise to the surface, mysterious truths grow simple and plain, truths that jangled
5
66 INTRODUCTION.
on the ear melt into harmony ; and we are -svi-apt in wonder and admiration as we afresh discover the Bible to be the Book for all races and for all ages, an inexhaustible fountain of truth and comfort and grace.
TRANSLATION.
€ttksmk$ ; nr, % ^rtiicl^cr.
THE PEOLOGUE:
In which the Problem of tJic Book is indirectly stated.
Chap. I., w. 1 to 11.
HE "WORDS OF THE PREACHER, SON OF DAVID, KING IN JERUSALEM.
Vanity of vanities, saith the Preaclier ; 2
Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,
Since man hath no profit from all his labour 3
^Vllich he laboureth under the sun !
For one generation passeth, and another generation cometh ; 4
While the earth abideth for ever.
Veuse 1. The PreaeJur. The Son of David, whoso "words" arc recorded in this Book, is called in the Hebrew Cohclcth. Coheleth does not mean "the Preacher," but " the Assembler," or " the Gatherer." The title is descriptive of the author's object. It probably signifies that just as Solomon gathered the Hebrew people into the Temple for the worship of Jehovah (1 Kings viii.), so the author's endeavour will be to gather back into the holy fellowship those who, perplexed and saddened by the inscrutable mor.d pro" blems of the time, were in danger of renouncing the God and the worship of their fathers. This, however, is a main object with every preacher; and therefore wo may retain the rendering of the word Coheleth which long use has made familiar and expressive. Probably "the Preacher" is a title which for us carries more weight with it, more even of the true meaning of the Hebrew, than cither "the Gatherer" or "the Assembler" would carry.
70 ECCLESIASTES ; OR, THE PREACHER.
The sun also riseth, and the sun goeth down ; 5
And though it panteth towards its place, it riseth there again. The wind goeth toward tlie south, and veereth to the north ; 6 It whirleth round and round. Yet the wind returneth on its course. All the streams run into the sea, yet the sea doth not overflow : 7 To the place whence the streams came, thither they return again. All words are vain. Man cannot utter it. 8
The eye can never be satisfied with seeing, Nor could the ear ever hear all.
What hath been, still is ; 9
And that which hath been done, is done still : And there is no new thing under the sun. If there be anything of which it is said, ' Behold, this is new 1 ' 10 It hath been long ago, in the time which was before us.
But there is no remembrance of those who have been ; 11 Nor will there be any remembrance of men who are to come Among those tliat will live after them.
Vv. 4 — 7- The Persian Magi worshipped the elements of fire, air, earth, and water as the only proper objects of human reverence (Herodotus i. 132 ; Strabo xv. 3, 13). In these verses therefore there may be, besides their obvious meaning, a latent reference to the objects of the Magian worship.
FIEST SECTION.
The Quest of tlie Chief Good in Wisdom and in ricasurc.
Chaqi. I. V. 12, to Chap. II. v. 20.
THE PREACHER, was king over Israel, in Jerusalem. 12 ^/'^' (^"**' '"
Wisdom.
And I gave my heart to search diligently into the wisdom 13
Chap. I.,
Of all that is done under heaven : vv. 12— is.
This sore task hath God given to the children of men. To busy themselves therewith, 1 considered all the works that are done under the sim ; 14
And, behold, they are all vanity and vexation of spirit : For that which is crooked cannot be set straight, 15
And he that is gone cannot be numbered again !
I therefore spake to my heart, saying, 16
' I, lo, I have acquired greater wisdom Than all who were before me in Jerusalem,' —
Veuse 14. Vexation of spirit. Literally, " Stri\nng after the wind." But the tiinc- himoured phrase " vexation of spirit" sufficiently expresses the Writer's inclining. It seems better therefore to retain it than to introduee the Hebrew metaphor which, though it be very expressive, has a somewhat novel and foreign sound.
72 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. I. v. 17, to
My heart having seen much wisdom and knowledge ;
For I had given my heart to find knowledge and wisdom. 17 I perceive that even this is vexation of spirit : For in much wisdom is much sadness, 18
And to multiply knowledge is to multiply sorrow.
^^^ Q"'^*^ "' THEN I said to my heart : ii. 1
Pleasure.
' Come, now, let me try thee with mirth.
Chap. II.,
w. 1- 11. And thou shalt see pleasure :'
And, lo, this too is vanity ! To mirth I said, ' Thou art mad !' 2
And to pleasure, ' What canst thou do ?' I thought in my heart to allure my body with pleasure, 3
Verse 17. To find knowledge and tvisdom. The Authorized Version renders, "to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly." The latter clause violates both the sense and the grammatical construction. The word translated "to know" is not an infinitive, but a noun; and should be rendered "knowledge:" the word translated "foUy" means "prudence," and the word translated "madness" hardly means more than "folly." Moreover, the text seems to be corrupt. The sense of the passage is against it, I think, as it now stands : for the design of Coheleth is simply to show the insufficiency of wisdom and knowledge, not to prove folly foolish. On the whole therefore it seems better to follow the high authority which arranges the text as I have rendered it. The Hebraist Avill find the question discussed in Ginsburg. Chap. II. Verse 2. What canst thou do ? The Hebrew idiom is, " What can she do?" Verse 3. The brief day of their life. Literally, " the numbered days of Iheu" life," that is, easily numbered, few, brief.
Chap. II. v. 8. OR, THE rREACIIER. 73
My mind guiding it wisely, And to lay hold on folly. Till I should see what it is good for the sons of men to do under heaven,
Through the brief day of their life.
I multiplied my possessions therefore ; 4
I builded me houses, I planted me vineyards ;
I made me gardens and pleasure-grounds, 5
And I planted in them trees of all sorts of fruit ;
I made me tanks of water, 6
From which to water the groves : 1 bought me menservants and maidservants, and had homeborn servants : 7
I had also many herds of oxen and sheep. More indeed than all who were before me in Jerusalem :
I heaped up silver and gold, 8
And the treasures of kings and of the kingdoms : I got me men-singers and women-singers ; And the amorous delights of men with many concubines :
Vekse 6. The groves. Literally, " the groves shooting up trees."
Verse 8. And the amorous delights, kc. Littrally, " the doli'rlit.s of men, a larpc
uuinber of oonoubincs : " but the word for "delights" means "lunorous dclighta," and
no doubt these were taken "with" the concubines.
74 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. II. v. 9, to
So that I surpassed all that were before me in Jerusalem, 9 My wisdom helping me ; And nothing that my eyes desired did I withhold from them ; 10
I did not keep back my heart from any pleasure ; Since my heart was to receive happiness from all my toil.
And this was to be my portion from all my toil. But when I turned to look on all the works which my hands had wrought, 11
And at the labour which it cost me to accomplish them. Behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit ; For there is no profit under the sun !
Wisdom and THEN I turned to compare wisdom with madness and folly, — 12 .g^ And what is the man that will come after the king
Whom they made king long ago ? —
Chap. II., vv. o a
I'-i— ^3. . And I saw that wisdom excelleth folly 13
As far as light excelleth darkness : The wise man, his eyes are in his head, 14
While the fool walketh blindly. Nevertheless I knew that the same fate will befall both.
Therefore I spake with my heart : 15
' A fate like that of tlie fool will also befall me, even me ; Why then am I wiser?'
Chai'. II. V. 22. OR, THE PREACHER. 75
And I said to my heart : ' This too is vanity, ISiucc there is no remembrance of the wise man nor of the fool ; 1 G For both will be forgotten As in time past so also in days to come : And, alas, the wise man dieth like the fool ! ' Tlierefore I hated life, for a sore burden was upon me, 17
Even the labour which I wrought under the sun ; Since all is vanity and vexation of spirit : Yea, I hated all the gain which I had gained under the sun, 18
Because I must leave it to the man who shall come after me. And who can tell whether he will be a wise man or a fool ? 19 Yet shall he have power over all my gain Which I have wisely gained under the sun :
This too is vanity. Then I turned to cause my heart to despair 20
Of all the gain which I gained under the sun : For here is a man who hath laboured wisely and prudently and
dexterously, 21
And he must leave it as a portion to a man who hath not laboured therein ;
This also is vanity and a great evil : For man hath nothing of all his heavy labour 22
76 ECCLESIASTES ; OR, THE PREACHER.
And the vexation of his heart under the sun, Since his task grieveth and vexeth him all his days, 23 And even at night his heart hath no rest : This too is vanity.
TheConciusion. THEEE is nothing better for man than to eat and to drink, 24 Chap. II., vv. And to let his soul take pleasure in his labour —
But even this, I saw, cometh from God —
For who should eat, 25
And who should hasten thereunto more than he ?
For to the man who is good before Him, 26
He giveth wisdom and knowledge and joy ; But to the sinner He giveth the task to gather and to heap up. And to give it to him who is good before God : Tliis also is vanity and vexation of spirit.
24— 2G.
Verse 25. More than he ? The Hebrew is " more than I ?" The sense is, — "Who has a clearer right to enjoy the fruit of his toil than ho who has wrought at it ? And to express the thought more vividly, Coheleth, adopting a common Hebrew idiom, throws himself into the labourer's place, speaks in his person: says "more than 7" instead of "more than he.'" But to retain this idiom in our English Version would be to confuse the meaning of the verse rather than to make it more clear.
SECOND SECTION.
Thr Quest of tlie Chief Good in Devotion to the Affairs of Business.
Chap. III. v.l,to Chaj). V. v. 20.
IIEIIE is a season for all things, ill. 1 nc Quest
obstructed hi/
And an appointed time for every undertaking under Uiviue Ordi-
tuinces ;
heaven : A time to be born, and a time to die : 2 c^"*?- ^^^■' ^'^•
1—15.
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up plants ;
A time to kill, and a time to save ; 3
A time to pull down houses, and a time to build them up ;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh ; 4
A time to mourn, and a time to rejoice ; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather up stones ; 5 A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing ;
A time to seek, and a time to lose ; 6
A time to keep, and a time to throw away ; A time to rend garments, and a time to sew them together; 7
A time to be silent, and a time to speak ;
78 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. III. v. 8, to
A time to love, and a time to hate ; 8
A time of war, and a time of peace: He who laboureth hath therefore no profit from his labours. 9
I have considered the task which God hath given to the sons 10 of men,
To busy themselves withal : He hath made it all beautiful in its season ; 11
He hath also put eternity into their heart ; Only they understand not the work of God from beginning to end. I found that there was no good for them but to rejoice 12
And to do themselves good all their life ;
And also that if a man eat and drink 13
And take pleasure in all his labour, It is a gift of God. I found too that whatever God hath ordained continueth for 14 ever;
Chap. III. Verse 11. Only they understand not, &c. Literally, "only man under- standeth not the work which God hath made" — man being coUeetivo here, a noun of multitude, and equivalent to " the sons of men" of the previous verso.
Verse 12. I found, &c. Literally, "I know." But the verb is used in the sense of " I camo to know," I discovered, I found out. The same verb is used in the opening clause of verse 14.
Chap. III. v. 20.
OR, THE PREACHER.
79
Nothing can be added to it, And nothing can be taken from it : And (Jod hath so ordered it that men may fear before Ilini. That which hath been was long ago, And that which is to be was long a^o ; For God recalleth the past.
MOEEOVER, I saw under the sun, That there was iniquity in the place of justice. And in the place of equity there was iniquity. I said to mine heart : ' God will judge tlie righteous and the wicked, For there is a time for everything and for every deed with Him.' Yet I said to my heart of the children of men :
' God hath chosen them To show that they, even they, are as beasts. For a mere chance is man, and the beast a mere chance.
And they are both subject to the same chance ; As is the death of the one so is the death of the other ; And both have the same spirit : And the man hath no advantage over the beast, For both are vanity : Both go to the same place ;
\C) -^ "^^ ^'!/ Human Injustice ami Vurversity.
Chap. III.,
1 1T V. IG, to Chap.
IV., V. .3.
18
ly
20
80 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. III. v. 21, to
Both sprang from dust, and both turn into dust : And who knoweth whether the si)irit of man goeth upward, 21 Or the spirit of the beast goeth downward to the earth ? '
Wherefore I saw that there is notliing better for man 22
Than to rejoice in his labours ; For this is his portion : And who shall give him to see what will be after him ?
Then I turned and saw iv. 1
All the oppressed who are suffering under the sun : I beheld the tears of the oppressed,
And they had no comforter ; And their oppressors were violent, Yet had they no comforter : And I accounted the dead who died long ago 2
Happier than the living who are still alive ; Wliile happier than either is he who hath not been born, 3 Who liath not seen the evil doings which are done under the sun.
Verse 21. The question is here, as so often in Hebrew, the strongest form of negation. As in V. 19 the Preacher affirms of man and beast that •' both have the same spirit," and in V. 20, that "both go to the same place," so, in this verse, he emphatically denies that there is any diflference in their destination at death.
Chap. IV. v. 9
OR, THE PREACHER.
81
THEN too I saw that all this toil, And all this dexterity in toil, Spring from the jealous rivalry of one with the other : This also is vanity and vexation of spirit. The sluggard foldeth his hands ; Yet he eateth his meat : Better a handful of quiet Than two handsful of labour with vexation of spirit. And again I turned and saw a vanity under the sun : Here is a man who hath no one with him, Not even a son or a brother ; And yet there is no end to all his labour, Neither are his eyes satisfied with riches : For whom then doth he labour and deny his soul any of his wealth ?
This too is vanity and an evil work.
4 It is rendtrcd hopvlfsii by the bd.sf Or 11/ in of If Kill (III In- ditstricH.
Chap. IV., vv. 4—8.
TWO are better than one. Because they have a good reward for their labour :
9 Tet these are capable of a nobler Motive and Mode.
Chap. IV., w. 9—16.
Chap. IV. Verse 8. For whom doth he, &c. Literally, " for whom do /labour and deny myself any of my wc:ilth?" As in Chap. II. v. 25, Cohclcth suddenly assumes the labourer's place, so here, and for the same reason, he assiuucs that of the lonely miser.
82 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. IV. v. 10, to
For if one fall, the other will lift up his fellow ; 10
But woe to the lonely one who falleth And hath no fellow to help him up ! Moreover, if two sleep together, they are warm ; 1 1
But he that is alone, how can he he warm ? And if an enemy overpower the one, two will withstand him. 12 And a threefold cord is not easily broken.
Happier is a poor and wise youth 13
Than an old and foolish king Who even yet has not learned to be admonished : For a prisoner may go from a prison to a throne, 14
Whilst a king may become a beggar in his own kingdom.
I see all the living who walk under the sun 15
Flocking to the sociable youth who standeth up in his place ; There is no end to the multitude of the people over whom he
ruleth : 16
Nevertheless those who live after him will not rejoice in him ; For even this is vanity and vexation of spirit.
Verse 12. The one: i.e. "the lonely one" of the previous verse. Verse 15. Flocking to the sociable youth. Literally, " with the sociable youth :" i.e. ivith him in the sense of coming to his help, joining his faction in the State.
Chap. V. v. 6.
OR, THE PREACHER.
83
KEEP thy foot when tliou goest to the House of God ; Fur it is better to obey than to offer the sacrifices of the disobedient,
Since they who obey cannot do evil. Do not hurry on thy mouth, And do not urge thy heart to utter words before God ; For God is in heaven, and thou upon earth : Therefore let thy words be few. Moreover a dream cometh through the multitude of affairs. And foolish talk through the multitude of words. When thou vowest a vow unt(j God,
Do not hesitate to pay it : For fools have no steadfast will. Pay that which thou hast vowed. Better that thou shouldest not vow Than that thou shouldest vow and not pay. Suffer not thy mouth to cause thy flesh to sin.
V_ \ So a ho a nobler and happier Mode of If'or- sh ip in open to men :
Chap, v., 2 vv. 1—7.
Chap. V. Ytise 1. It is better. Literally, "It is nearer :" that is to say. To keep in the path of obedience is a nciirer way of coming to God, brings us more .speedily and happily into His presence, than the roundabout and dubious path of sinning and then bringing sin-oflferings. Cannot do evil. Literally, " Know not to do evil."
Verse 6. Before the Angel. That is, before the Angel who, to the Hebrew thought, presided over the altar of worship, and who was present even when only two or three met for the study of the Law : to study the Law being in some sort an act of worship.
84
ECCLESIASTES;
CuAr. V. V. 7, TO
And say not before the Angel, ' It was an error :' For why should God be angry at thine idle talk And destroy the work of thy hands ? For all this is through the multitude of idle thoughts and vanities and much talking :
But fear thou God.
And a more helpful and consolatory Trust in the Divine Frovidcncc.
Chap, v., vv. 8—17.
IF THOU seest oppression of the poor, 8
And the perversion of justice and equity in the land, Be not dismayed at it ; For superior watcheth superior, And superiors again watch over them : And the advantage for the people is, that it extendeth to all, 9 For even the king is a servant to the field. He that loveth silver is never satisfied with silver, 10 Nor he that loveth riches with what they yield ; This too is vanity. For when riches increase they increase that consume them : 1 1
Veiise 7. All tJtis. Literally, " It is." That is to say, All the evils which Cobolcth has jiLst deprecated — iiTOvcrent prayers, luiatuning sacrifices, rash vows, and the punishment these provoke — spring from the multitude of idle thoughts and words.
Chap. V. v 17. OR, THE PREACHER. 86
\Vliat advantage then hath the owner thereof Save the looking thereupon with his eyes ?
The sleep of the husbandman is sweet 1 2
Whether he eat little or much ; While abundance suffereth not the rich to sleep. There is a great evil which I have seen under the sun — 1 3 Eiches have been hoarded up by the rich To the hurt of the next owner thereof : For the riches perish iu an unlucky enteiprise, 14
And he begetteth a sou when he hath nothing iu his hand : As he cometh forth from the womb of his mother, 1 ^>
Even as he cometh naked. So also he returneth again, And taketh nothing from his labour Wliich he may carry away in his hand.
Tliis also is a great evil, 1^
That just as he cometh so he must go : And what advantage hath he who laboureth for the wind (
Yet all his days he eateth in darkness, 17
And is much perturbed and hath vexation and grief.
Verse 14. An unlucky mterprise. Literally, " iin cuiployiucnt of evil : '' i.e. ii project wtli evil or unfortuuatc roaults.
86 ECCLESIASTES; OR, THE PREACHER.
ne Conclusion. BEHOLD, that wliicli I have said holds good— 18
Chap, v., That it is well for man to eat and to drink
And to enjoy the good of all his labours which he laboureth
imder the sun, Through the brief day of his life which God hath given him : For this is his portion.
And I have also said, 19
That a man to whom God hath given riches and wealth, If He hath also enabled him to eat thereof And to take his portion and to rejoice in his labour ; — This is a gift of God : He shoidd remember that the days of his life are not many, 20 And that God meant liim to work for the enjoyment of his heart.
Veuse 18. T7ial tvhichlhavcfiaid. Literally, "that which I hoYC seen ;" but the meaning is, " that which I asserted before — that which I have seen and have said that I had seen."
THIIID SECTION.
Tlic Quest in Wealth and in the Golden Mean.
Chaps. VI., VII. and VIIL vv. 1 to 15.
IIEPtE is another evil which T have seen under the '^,!''^T^'"
0 Wealth.
sun, VI. 1 jie ^viiQ makes
And it weigheth heavily upon men : ciitf Goi i^
Here is a man to whom God hath given riches and wealth and Ij^^"^*®^ ^J
° r ears and
abundance, 2 I'l^rpiexities :
So that his soul lacketh nothing of all that it desireth ; chap. vi.,
w, 1 — G.
And God hath not given him the power of enjoying it, But a stranger enjoy eth it : This is vanity and a great evil. Though one beget a hundred children 3
And live many years, Yea, many as may be the days of liis years. Yet if his soul is not satisfied with good ;
Chap. VI. Verso I. Another evil. LiteniUy, "nn evil."
ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. YI. v. 4, to
Even though the grave did not wait for him, Yet better is an abortion than he : For this cometh in nothingness and goeth in darkness, 4 And its memory is covered with darkness ; It doth not even see, and doth not know the sun : 5 It hath more rest than he. And if he live a thousand years and see no good : — 6
Do not both go to the same place ? For God has _421 the labour of this man is for his mouth ; 7
put Etirnity
into his Heart ; Therefore the soul Cannot be satisfied:
Chap. VI., ^or what advantage hath the wise man over the fool, 8
^^' '~ ■ Or what the poor man over the magnate ?
It is better indeed to enjoy the good we have 9
Than to crave a good beyond our reach : Yet even this is vanity and vexation of spirit. That which hath been was long since ordained ; 10
And it is very certain that even the greatest is but a man,
Verse 3. Yet better. Literally, '^ I say better."
Verse 4. For this ; viz. " the abortion " of the previous verse.
Verse 8. The magnate. Literally, "he who knoweth to walk before the living;" a man of eminent station who is much in the eye of the public.
Verse 9. To enjoy the good we have, &c. Literally, " Better is that wliich is seen by the eyes (the i^retsent good) than thrit which is pursued by the soul (the distant and uncer- tain good)."
Chap. VII. v. 6. OR, THE PREACHER.
And cannot contend with Him who is mightier than he.
Moreover there are many things which increase vanity : 11 hcgai„»o}ihf
f(t(h raiiifi/ ;
"What advantage then hath man ? <-'ii"p- vi.,
V. 11.
And who knoweth what is good for man in life, 12 Nor can he tcu
uhat will
The brief day of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow ? *^|^/|'^^ <'/^'» And who can tell man what shall be after him under the sun ? v. i'l.' '
A GOOD NAME is better than sweet perfume, vn. 1 ^Yr^.S "* And the day of death better than the day of one's birth : ,j,^^ Method It is better to go the house of mourning 2 ^ho pursues u.
Than to the house of feasting, vv."i— ii. '
Because this is the end of all men, And the living should lay it to heart : Better is serious thought than wanton mirth, 3
For by a sad countenance the heart is bettered : The heart of the wise therefore is in the house of mourning, 4 But in the house of mirth is the heart of fools. It is better for a man to listen to the reproof of the wise 5
Than to listen to the song of fools ;
Veuse 12. The brief day. Literally, " the numbered days," i.e. easily numbered, few. Chap. VII. Verse 2. Because this is the end: i.e., the death bewailed in (he house of mouminf,'. Veiise 3. The heart is bettered ; or, ixirhapij, " the hcait is made good."
90 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. VII. v. 6, to
For the laughter of fools is like the crackling of thorns under
a pot : 6
Til is also is vanity.
Wrong-doing maketh the wise man foolish, 7
And corrupteth a gentle heart.
The end of a reproof is better than its beginning, 8
And patience is better than pride : Therefore hurry not on thy spirit to be angry; 9
For anger is nursed in the bosom of fools. Do not say, ' How was it that former days were better than these ?' 10
For that is not the part of wisdom.
Wisdom is as good as wealth, 11
And even hath an advantage over it for those who lead an active life:
For to be under the shelter of wisdom 12
Is to be under the shelter of wealth ;
Verse 11 Those who lead an active life. Literally, " those wlio see the sun ;" i.e. those who are much in the sun, who lead a busy active life, are much occupied with traffic or public affairs.
Verse 12. Fortifieth the heart : i.e. keeps the heart tranquil and serene under all chances and changes.
CiiAi-. VII. V. 18. OR, THE PREACHER. 91
And the advaiitage of wisdom is. That it fortifieth the heart of the possessor thereof.
Consider moreover the work of God : 13
Since no man can straighten that which He hath made crooked.
In the day of prosperity be thou content ; 14
And in the day of adversity, Eemember that God hath made this as well as that, In order that man should not be able to foresee that which is to come.
IN MY fleeting days I have seen 15 The Perils to
. which it exposes
Both the righteous die m his righteousness, him.
And the wicked live long in his wickedness : to comp'roiIiiL^
Be not very righteous therefore ; 1 6
Conscience ;
Nor make thyself too wise lest thou be forsaken : ^^^•'*p- '^'^^•»
vv. 15—20.
Be not very %vicked, nor yet very foolish, 17
Lest thou die before thy time : It is better that thou shouldest lay hold of this, 18
Verse 14. This as well as that : i.e. adversity as well as prosperity. God sends both that, not foreseeing what may come to pass, we may live in a constant and hmiiblc dependence on Him.
Verse 18. This . . . and (hat. This refers to the folly and wickedness of verse 17; and that to the wisdom and righteousness of verse 16. Take hold on both. Literally, " go along with both."
92 ECCLESIASTES : Chap. VII v. 19, to
And also not let go of that ; For whoso feareth God will take hold on both.
Tliis wisdom alone is greater strength to the wise 19
Than an army to a beleaguered city ; For there is not a righteous man on earth 20
Who doeth good and sinneth not. ,2>. -p^ ^g Moreover seek not to know all that is said of thee, 21
inJifferent to j^gg^ ^j-^q^ -^q^^ ^^ly Servant speak evil of thee :
Censure ;
For thou knowest in thine heart 22
Chap. VII.,
vv. 21, 22. That thou also hast many times spoken evil of others.
All this wisdom have I tried. 23
I desired a higher wisdom, but it was far from me : That which was far off remaineth far off, 24
And deep remaineth deep : Who can find it out ?
Then I and my heart turned to know this wisdom 2 5
And diligently examine it —
Vekse 19. This wisdom : viz. the moderate cominon-sense view of life which has been described. Than an armi/, &c. LiteitiUy, " than many mighty men who have been in the city."
Vekse 21. Sevk not to know, &c. Literally, " Give not thy heart to all words that are uttered."
Chai-. VIII. V. 1. OR, THE PREACHER. 93
To discover the cause of wickedness, vice, (3) i"" despise
Women ;
And that folly which is madness ; dj yjj^
And I found woman more bitter than death : 26 ^^'
She is a net ; Her heart is a snare, and her hands are chains : Whoso is good before God shall escape her,
But the sinner shall bo taken by her. Behold what I have found, saith the Preacher — 27
Taking things one by one to reach the result — And what my soul is still seeking and I have not found :
I have found one man among a thousand, 28
But in all that number a woman have I not found :
Lo, this only have I found, 29
That God made man upright, But that they seek out many devices.
Who is like the wise man ? viii. 1 ,^. j^^^ ^^ ,^
And who like him that understandeth the interpretation of tliis '°dificrcnt to matter ?
Public Wronirs.
The wisdom of this man raaketh his face bright And his sad countenance is changed.
Chap. VIII. verso 1. This matUr. Literully, "the thing," i.e. the thing or matter hero in question : viz. this practical prudent view of human life.
Chap. VIII., w. 1—13.
94 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. VIII. v. 2, to
I say then. Obey the King's commandment, 2
And the rather because of the oath of fealty :
Do not throw off thine allegiance, 3
Nor resent an evil word. For he can do whatsoever he please : For the word of a king is mighty ; 4
And who shall say to him, ' What doest thou ? ' Whoso keepeth his commandment will not know an evil word. 5 Moreover the heart of the wise man foreseeth a time of retribu- tion—
For there is a time of retribution for all things — 6
When the tyranny of man is heavy upon him :
Because he knoweth not what will be, 7
And because no one can tell him when it will be.
No man is ruler over his own spirit, 8
Verse 2. The oath of fealty. Literally, "the oath by God." The Babylonian and Persian despots exacted an oath of loyalty from conquered races. Each had to swear by the god he wor.shipped.
Verse 3. Bo not throw ojjr, &c. Literally, " Do not hurry from his presence or even stand up because of an e%'il word." To stand up in the divan of an eastern despot is a sign of resentment ; to rush from it, a sign of disloyalty and rebellion.
Verse 7. Because he hioweth not : i.e. the tyrant does not know. The sense seems to bo : Retribution is all the more certain because, in his infatuation, the despot docs not foresee the disastrous results of his tyranny, and because no one can tell him when or how they wiD disclose themselves.
Chap. VIII. v. 11. OR, THE TREACHER. 95
To retain the spirit, Nor has he any power over the day of his death ; And there is no furlough in this battle, And no craft will save the wicked.
All this have I seen, 9
Having given my heart to all that is done under the sun. But there is a time when a man ruleth over men to their hurt. 10 Thus I have seen wicked men buried And come again, And those who did right depart from the place of the holy And be forgotten in the city : This also is vanity. Because sentence against an evil deed is not executed forthwith, 1 1 The heart of the sons of men is set in them to do evil — Because a sinner doeth evil a hundred years, And hath a son to perpetuate his evil.
Veuse 9. All this have I seen : i.e. all this retribution on tjTants and the consequent deliverance of the oppressed.
Verse 10. But the Preacher has also seen times when retributive justice did not overtake the oppressors, when they came again in the person of children as wicked and tyrannical as themselves.
Verse U. And hath a son to jjcrpctuate his evil. Literally, "And there is ii perpetuator to him."
06 ECCLESIASTES ; OR, THE PREACHER.
But I know that it shall be well with those who fear God, 12 Who truly fear before Him : And it shall not be well with the wicked, 13
But, like a shadow, he shall not prolong his days, Because he doth not fear before God,
nv'r'o/-"* That there are righteous men who have a wao;e like that of the
Therefore the NEVEETHELESS this vanity dotli happen on the earth, 14
there are wicked, bhere an righteous :
Preacher con (hmnn thin I 'icir of lilt »i fin Life.
vi^i^lH'' -Ajid there are wicked men who have a wage like that of the
This too, I said, is vanity. And I commended mirth, 15
Because there is nothing better for man under the sun Than to eat and drink and rejoice ; And this will go with him to liis work Through the days of his life. Which God giveth him under the sun.
Vekse 15. And this will go with him : viz. this clear enjoying temper than which, as yet, the Preacher haa found " nothing better."
FOURTH SECTION.
Tlie Quest of the Chief Good Aehicved.
Chap. VIII. V. 16, to Chap. XII. v. 7.
S THEN I gave my heart to acquire wisdom, viii. 16 The Chief Good
not to be found
And to see the work which is done under the sun, in msdom :
How that one seeth no sleep with his eyes by day or by night ; chap, viii.,
I saw that man cannot find out all the work of God ^ ^ i x V "c * *''
Which is done under the sun ; Though man labour to discover it, He cannot find it out ;
And though the wise man say he understandeth it. Nevertheless he hath not found it out. For all this have I taken to lieart and proved it, ix. 1
That the righteous, and the wise, and their labours are in the hand of God :
7
98 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. IX. v. 2, to
They know not whether they shall meet love or hatred ;
Both are before them as before all others. The .same fate befalleth to the righteous and to the wicked, 2 To the good and pure and to the impure, To him that sacrificeth and to him that sacrificeth not ;
As is the good so is the sinner, And he that sweareth as he who feareth an oath. This is the greatest evil of all that is done under the sun, — 3
That there is one fate for all : And that, although the heart of the sons of men is full of evil. And madness is in their hearts through life. Yet, after it, they go to the dead :
For who is exempted ? 4
To all the living there is hope. For a living dog is better than a dead lion ;
Chap. IX. Verse 1. They know not whether they shall meet love or hatred may mean tliat the wi.sest and the best of men cannot tell whether they .tihall meet (1) the love or the enmity of God, as sho\vn in adverse or favom-able providences ; or (2) the things which they love or hate ; or (3) the lovo or the hatred of their fellows. Of these interpretations, I prefer the last.
Verse 3. The words of this verse do not, as they stand, seem to carry on the logical connexion of thought. The Preacher's complaint is, that even the wise and the good are not exempted from the common fate, not that the foolish and reckless are exposed to it. The text may be corrupt : but, more probably, the true exegesis of it is still to seek. Ginsbmg however is content with the passage as it is hero given. _
Chap. IX. v. 9.. OR, THE PREACHER. »y
For thn living know that they shall die, 5
But the dead know not anything ; And there is no more any compensation to them. For their memory is gone : rUeir love too, no less than their hatred and zeal, hath perished ; 0 And there is no more any portion for them in aught that is done under the sun.
GO, THEN, eat thy bread with gladness, 7 ^^'«'- '" ^''"'-
Slot :
And drink thy wine with a cheerful heart,
Chap, ix.,
Since God hath long been pleased with thy works : vv. 7—12.
Let thy garments be always white ; i>
Let no perfume be lacking to thy head : And enjoy thyself with any woman whom thou lovest *J
All the days of thy life Which He giveth thee under the sun,
All thy Hceting days : For tliis is thy portion in life. And in the labour which thou labourest under the sun.
Vekse 9. Enjoy thyself uith any woman. The word here rcndrrcd " woman" docs not mean " wife." Not only is the whole drift of the context aj^ainst that moaning, but the absence of the article in the Hebrew s^hows that Cohelethmust have meant " a woman " in the sense of "aw;/ woman."
7*
100 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. IX. v. 10, to
Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do, 10
Do it whilst thou art able ; For there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in Hades,
Whither thou goest. Then I turned and saw under the sun, 1 1
That the race is not to the swift, Nor the battle to the strong ; Nor yet bread to the wise. Nor riches to the intelligent, Nor favour to the learned : But that the time of calamity cometh to all, 12
And that man doth not even know his time ; Like lish taken in a fatal net, And like sparrows caught in a snare, So are the sons of men entrapped in the time of their calamity When it faUeth suddenly upon them.
Nor in Devo- tion to Public
Affairs and its And it seemed great to me : —
Retcards :
THIS wisdom also have I seen, 13
it seemed great to me : — There was a little city 14
And few men in it. Chap. X., V. ^^^j ^ great king came against it and besieged it.
Chap. IX., K ^ p • -L
^, j3 ^^ And lew men in it.
CHAr. X. V. 3. OR, THE PREACHER. 101
And threw up a military causeway before it :
Now there was found in it a poor wise man, 1 5
And he saved that city by his wisdom : Yet no one remembered that same poor man.
Therefore say I, 10
Though wisdom is better than strength, Yet the wisdom of the poor is despised, And his words are not listened to : Though the words of the wise are listened to 17
With more pleasure than the loud behests of a foolish ruler, And wisdom is better than weapons of war, Yet one fool destroyeth much good : As a dead fly maketh sweet ointment to stink, x. 1
So a little folly overpowereth (much) honourable wisdom. Nevertheless the mind of the wise man is at his right hand, 2
But the mind of the fool at his left : For so soon as the fool setteth his foot in the street 3
lie betrayeth his lack of understanding ; Yet he saith of every one (Jie meeteth), ' He is a fool ! '
CiiAr. X. Ver.sc 3. Setteth his foot in the street. Literally, "Wulketh on the road." The sentence seems (o be a proverb used to express the extreme stupidity of the fix)l, who, the very moment he leaves his house, is bewildered, and cimnot even find his way from
one familiar spot to another.
102 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. X. v. 4, to
Tf the anger of thy ruler be kindled against thee, 4
Resent it not ; For submission will prevent a graver outrage. There is an evil which I have seen under the sun, 5
, An outrage which only a ruler can commit :
A great fool is lifted to high places, 6
While the noble sit degraded : I have seen servants upon horses, 7
And masters walking like servants upon the ground.
Yet he that diggeth a pit shall fall into it ; 8
And whoso breaketli down a wall a serpent shall bite him ; He who Y)ulleth down stones shall be hurt therewith ; 9
And whoso cleaveth wood shall be cut.
If the axe be blunt 10
And he do not sharpen it beforehand,
Verse 4. Resent it not. Literally, " Quit not thy place. " See Note on Chap. VIII. Verse 3.
Verse 7. To ride upon a horse is still a mark of distinction in many Eastern States. In Turkish cities, till of late, no Christian was pernaitted to ride any nobler beast than an ass or a mule : so neither were the Jews, during- the middle ages, in any Christian city.
Verse 10. Ginsburg renders this difficult and much-disputed passage thus : " If the axe bo blunt, and he do not sharjien it bcforihand, he shall only increase the army ; the advantage of repairing hath wisdom," and explains it as moaning : " If any insulted subject lift a blunt axe against the trunk of despotism, he will only make the
Chap. X. v. lo. OR, TlIK TREACHER. 108
He must put on more strength ; But wisdom should teach him to repair it. If the serpent bite because it is not charmed, 1 1
There is no advantage to the charmer. The words of the wise man's mouth win him favour ; 12
But the lips of the fool destroy him : For the words of his mouth are folly and mischief 13
From beginning to end.
The fool also speaketh much, 14
Though no man knoweth or can know what shall be. Either here or hereafter : And who can tell him ? The work of a fool wearieth him, 15
For he cannot even find his way to the city.
tjTant increase his army, and thereby augment his own sufforing-s : but it is the prerogative of wisdom to repair the mischief which such precipitate folly occasions." I have offered what seems a simpler explanation in the comment on this passjig-e, and have tried to give a simpler, yet not less accurate, rendering in the text. But there are almost as many readings as critics ; and it is impossible to do more than make a hesitating choice among them.
Verse 11. The charmer. Literally, " The master of the tongue." The allusion of this graphic phrase is of course to the subtle cantillations by which the charmer drew, or was thought to draw, serpents from their ' lurk.' *
Verse 15. JJc rauiiot tren find hin ivuy to the city: a proverbial saying. II dcnntes that the fool has not wit enough even to keep a high road, lo walk in (he lieatcn i)a(hs which lead to a capital city.
104 ECCLESIASTES ; Chap. X. v. 16, to
Woe to thee, 0 land, when thy king is childish, 16
And thy princes feast in the morning ! Happy art thou, 0 land, when thy king is noble, 17
And thy princes eat at due hours. For strength and not for revelry ! Through slothful hands the roof falleth in, 18
And through lazy hands the house leaketh. They turn Lread and wine, which cheereth life, into revelry : 1 9 And the money of — (the people ?) — is made to supply both. Nevertheless do not revile the king even in thy thoughts, 20 And do not revile the prince even in thy bed-chamber. Lest the bird of the air carry the report And the winged tribes tell the story.
But in a wiac
Use and a wise CAST thy bread upon the waters, xi. 1
Etijoytnent of
the Present For in proccss of time thou mayest find the good of it :
life :
Chap. XI., vv. 1—8.
Give a portion to seven, and even to eight,
Verses 18, 19. The slothful prodigal rulers, under whoso mal-administration the whole fabric of the State was fast falling into decay, extorted the means for their profligate revelry from their toilwom and oppressed suJbjccts. It is significtmt of the caution induced by the extreme tyranny of the time, that the whole description is conveyed in proverbs capable of being interpreted in more senses than one ; and that, in verse 19, the writer leaves a blank, a hiatus, which we have to fill up with "the people" or some kindred phrase.
Chap. XI. v. 8. OR, THE PREACHER. 106
For thou knowest not what calamity may come upon the earth. When the clouds are full of rain 3
They empty it upon the earth ; And when the tree falleth, in South or North, In the place wliere the tree falleth there doth it lie: Whoso therefore watcheth the wind shall not sow, 4
And he who observeth the clouds shall not reap ;
As thou knowest the course of the wind 5
As little as that of the fcetus in the womb of the pregnant. So thou knowest not the work of God
Who worketh all things : Sow then thy seed in the morning, 6
And stay not thy hand in the evening, Since thou knowest not which shall prosper, this or that, Or whether both shall prove good ; And the light shall be sweet to thee 7
And it shall be pleasant to thine eyes to behold the sun : For even if a man should live many years, 8
He ought to rejoice in them all, And to remember that there will be many dark days ; Yea, that all tliat is coming is vanity.
106
ECCLESIASTES ;
Chap. XI. v. 9, to
Combined with a steadfast Faith in the Life to come.
Chap. XL, V. 9, to Chap. XII., V. 7.
EEJOICE, 0 young man, in thy youth, 9
And let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth ; And pursue the ways of thine heart And that which thine eyes desire : And know that in respect of all these God will bring thee into judgment : Banish therefore care from thy mind, 10
And put away sadness from thy body ; For youth and manhood are vanity : And remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth, xii. 1 Before the evil days come, And the years of which thou shalt say, ' I have no pleasure in them : ' Before the sun becometh dark 2
And the light, and the moon, and the stars ;
And the clouds return after the rain : When the keepers of the house shall quake, 3
And the men of power shall writhe ; When the grinding-maids shall stop because they are greatly
diminished, And the women who look out of the windows shall be shrouded in darkness.
And the door shall be closed on the street :
Chap. XII. v. 7. OR, THE PREACHER. 107
When the noise of the mills shall grow faint, 4
And the swallow shall fly shrieking to and fro. And all the song-birds drop into their nests : The very people shall be affrighted at that which is coming from the height, 5
And at the terrors which are on their way : The almond also shall be despised, And the locust be loathed, And the caper-berry provoke no appetite ; Because man goeth to his long home, And the mourners pace up and down the street : —
Before the silver cord snappeth asunder, G
And the golden bowl escapeth ; Defore the bucket breaketh upon the fountain,
And the wheel is shattered at the well ; And the body is cast upon the earth from which it came, 7 And the spirit returneth to God who gave it.
Chap. XII. Verso 4. The swallow, &c. Literally, " (he bird shall arise for a noise," i.e., the bird which flies abroad and makes a noise at the approach of a tempest ; viz., the swallow. All the song-birds. Literally, "all the daughters of song " — a Hebraism for " birds."
Verse 5. From ihe height, i.e., from heaven.
THE EPILOGUE.
In which Vie Problem oftJie Book is conclusively solved.
Chap. XII. vv. 8 to 14.
^
ANTTY of vanities saitli the Preacher, 8
All is vanity ! And not only was the Preacher wise ; 9
He also tanght the people wisdom, And composed many parables with care and thought.
The Preacher sought out comfortable words, 1 0
And wrote down the words of truth with uprightness.
The words of the Wise are like goads, 1 1
And those of the Masters of the Assemblies like fixed stakes, Given by the same Shepherd. And of what is more than these, my son, beware : 1 2
For of making of many books tlicre is no end, And much study is a weariness to the flesh.
ECCLESIASTES ; OR, THE PREACHER. 109
THE CONCLUSION of the matter is this :— i:j
That God taketh cognizance of all things : Fear God therefore and keep His commandments ;
For this it behoveth all men to do, Since God will bring every deed to the judgment 14
Appointed for every secret thing, Whether it be good or whether it be bad.
Verse 13. God taketh cognizance of all things. Literally, " Everything is noted " or "noticed," i.e. by God the Judge. Gin.sburg conjectures, and with reason, that the Sacred Name wa.s omitted from this cLiuse of the verse, .simply becau.se the Author wished to reserve it for the more emphatic clau.so which follow.* it.
EXPOSITION.
THE rilOLOGUE:
III Which the rroUcm of the Book is Indirectly Stated.
CJmp. I., vv. 1 — 11.
TIE search for the Summum BoniLiii, the Quest of the Chief Good, is the theme of the Book Ecclesi- astes. Naturally we look to find this theme, this problem, this " riddle of the painful earth," distinctly stated in the opening verses of the Book. It is stated, but not dis- tinctly. For the Book is a drama, not an essay or a treatise. And a dramatist conveys his conceptions of human charac- ter and circumstance and action, not by direct picturesque descriptions, but, placing men before us, he makes them speak to us, and leaves us to infer their character and con- dition from their words. In strict accordance with the niles of his art, the dramatic Prcaclicr brings men upon the stage of his poem, permits us to hear their most secret charac- teristic utterances, and thus enables us to conceive and judge them. He is true to liis artistic canons from the very outset. His Prologue, unlike that of the Book of Job, is cast m the di-amatic form. Instead of inirotUicing the drama with a brief nairativc, or a clear statement of
8
114 THE PROLOGUE. CwAr. I.
the moral problem he is about to discuss, he opens with the characteristic utterances of the man who, wearied with many futile endeavours, gathers up his remaining strength for a last attempt to discover the Chief Good of Life. Like Browning, one of the most dramatic of modern poets, he plunges at once into his theme, and speaks to us from the first through " feigned lips." Just as in reading one of Browning's most perfect poems, we have first to glance through it in order to collect the scattered hints which in- dicate the speaker and the time, and then laboriously to think ourselves back, by their help, into the time and the conditions of the speaker ; so also with tliis Hebrew Poem. It opens abruptly with " words of the Preacher " who is at once the author and the hero of the drama. A voice breaks the silence of the distant Past to cry to us Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities, all is vanity ! " For what intent does it break the silence ? Of what moral mood is this pathetic note the expression ? Wliat compels this perturbed spirit to revisit the glimpses of the moon and raise its warning voice ?
It is the old contrast — old as literature, old as man — between the ordered steadfastness of nature and tlie dis- order and brevity of hun^an life. The Preacher stands crazing out on the imiverse above and around him. The ancient earth is strong and firm beneath his feet. The sun runs its race with joy, sinks exhausted into its ocean- bed, but rises on the morrow, like a giant refreshed with
vv. 1-11. THE PROLOGUE. 116
old wiiio, to renew its course. The variable and incon- stant wind, which bloweth where it listctli, blows from the same quarters, veers through the very circuit, it haunted in the time of the world's grey fathers. The streams which ebb and flow, which go and come, run along time-worn beds and are fed from their ancient source. But man, " to one point constant never," shifts from change to change, from dis- order to disorder. As compared with the calm order and uniformity of nature, his life is a mere phantasy, passing for ever through a limited and tedious range of forms, each of which is unsubstantial as the fabric of a vision, many of which are as base as they are unreal, and all of which, for ever in a flux, elude the grasp of those who pursue them, or disappoint those who hold them in their hands. " All is vanity; for man has no profit," no adequate and enduring reward, "for all his labour:" less happy, because less stable, than the earth on which he dwells, he comes and goes, while the earth goes on for ever (verses 2 — 4).
This painful contrast between the ordered stability of nature and the changeful disorder of human life is empha- sized by a detailed reference to the large natural forces which rule the world, and which abide unchanged, although to us they seem the very types of change. The figure of the fifth verse is, of course, that of the racer. Tlie sun rises every morning to run its course, pursues it through the day, " pants " as one wellnigh breathless towards its goal, and sinks at night into its subterraneous bed in the
8*
/
116 THE PROLOGUE. Chap. I.
sea ; but, thougli exhausted and breathless at night, it rises again on the morrow refreshed, and eager, like a strong swift man, to renew its daily race. In the sixth verse, the wind is represented as having a regular law and circuit, thoudi it now blows South and now veers round to the North. The East and West are not mentioned, probably because they are tacitly referred to in the rising and set- ting sun of the previous verse : all the four quarters arc included between the two. In the seventh verse, the streams are described as returning on their sources : but there is no allusion here, as we might suppose, to tides — and indeed tidal rivers are rare. The reference is to an ancient conception of the physical order of nature held by the Hebrew as by other races, according to which the ocean, fed by the streams, sent back a constant supply, through subterraneous passages and channels : through these they supposed the rivers to return to the place whence they came. The ruling sentiment of these verses is that, while all the natural elements and forces, even the most variable and inconstant, renew their strength and return upon their course, for frail man there is no return : permanence and uniformity characterize them, while tran- sitoriuess and instability mark him for their own. They seem to vanish and disappear : the sun sinks, the winds lull, the streams run dry ; but they all come back again : for him there is no coming back ; once gone, he is gone for ever.
vv. 1—11. THE PROLOGUE. 117
But it is vain to talk of these or other instances of the steadfast order of the universe : " Man cannot utter it." For, besides these elemental illustrations, the world is crowded with illustrations and proofs of the stability of nature, the stability which underlies all surface changes. So numerous are they, so innumerable, that the curious eye and inquisitive ear of man would be worn out before they had completed the tale ; and if eye and ear could never be satisfied with hearing and seeing, how much less the slower tongue with speaking (verse 8) ? All through the universe what has been still is : what was done is done still : the sun is still running the same race, the winds are still blowing from the old points, the streams are still flowing between the same banks and returning by the same channels. If any man suppose that he has discovered new phenomena, any natural fact which has not been repeating itself from the beginning, it is only because he is ignorant of that which took place from of old, long years before he was bom (verses 9, 10). Yet, wliile in nature all things return on their course and abide for ever, man's day is soon spent, his force soon exhausted. He does not return : nay, he is not so much as remembered by those who come after him. Just as we have forgotten those who were before us, so those who live after us will forget us (verse 11). The burden of all this unintelligible life lies heavily on the Preacher's soul. The miseries and confusions of our lot bafUe and oppress his thoughts.
118 THE PROLOGUE. Chap. I.
Above all, the contrast between Nature and Man, between its massive and stately permanence and the iVailty and brevity of our existence, breeds in him the despairing mood of which we have the key-note in his cry, " Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities ; all is vanity ! "
Yet this is not the only, not the inevitable, mood of the mind as it ponders that great contrast. Wc have learned to look on it with other, perhaps with wider, eyes. We say : " How grand, how soothing, how hopefully prophetic is the spectacle of Nature's uniformity ! How it raises us above the fluctuations of inward thought and gladdens us with a sense of stability and repose ! As we see the ancient inviolable laws working out into the same beautiful and gracious results day after day and year by year, and reflect that " what hath been still is, and that which hath been done is done still," we are redeemed from our bondage to vanity and corruption : we look up with com- posed and reverent trust to Him who is our God and Father, and onwards to the stable and glorious immortality we are to spend with Him. ' Art not Thou from ever- lasting, 0 Lord our God, our Holy One ?* We shall not die, but live.' "
But if we did not know the Euler of great nature's frame to be our God and Father; if our thoughts had
Habakkuk I., 12.
VT. 1—11. THE PROLOGUE. 119
still " to jump the life to come," or to leap at it with a mere guess ; if we had to cross the dark deep gulf of death on no stronger bridge than a Peradventure : if , in short, our life were infinitely more troubled than it is, and the tnic good of life and its bright hope were still to seek, — iiow would it be with us then ? Then, like the Preacher, we might feel the steadfastness and uniformity of nature as an affront to our vanity and weakness. In place of drinking in hope and composure from the fair visage and unbroken order of the universe, we might deem that its face were darkened by a malignant frown or writhed in bitter irony. Then, instead of finding in its inviolable order and permanence a hopeful prophecy of oiir recovery into an unbroken order and an enduring peace, we might passionately demand why, on an abiding earth and under an unchanging heaven, we should die and be forgotten ; why, more inconstant than the variable wind, more evanes- cent than the parching stream, one generation should go never to return, and another generation come to enjoy the gains of those who were before them, and to blot their memory from the earth.
This indeed has been the impassioned protest and out- cry of man in every age. All literature is full of it. The contrast between the peaceful unchanging sky, with its myriads of calm lustrous stars, which are always there and always in a happy concert, and the frailty of man rushing blindly througli his brief and perturbed course
120 THE PROLOGUE. CiiAr. 1.
has lent its ground tones to the poetry of all races. Wc meet it everywhere. It is the oldest of old songs. In all the languages of the divided earth we hear how the genera- tions of men pass swifty and stornifully across its bosom, "searching the serene heavens with the inquest of their beseeching looks," but winning no response ; asking always, and always in vain, " Why are we thus ? why are wc thus ? frail as the moth and of few days as the flower ?" It is this contrast between the serenity and stability of nature and the frailty and turbulence of man which afflicts Coheleth and drives him to conclusions of despair. Here is man, " so noble in reason, so infinite in faculty, in apprehension so like a god," longing with a divine intensity for the peace which results from the equipoise and happy occupation of his various powers : yet, see, his whole life is wasted in labours and tumults and sorrowful perplexities; he goes to his grave with his cravings un- satisfied, his powers untrained, unharmonised, knowing no rest till he lies in the naiTow bed from which is no uprising ! What wonder if to such an one as he, " this goodly frame, the earth, seems but a sterile promontory," stretching out a little space into the dark infinite void ; " this most excellent canopy, the air . . . this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire," nothing but " a foul pestilential congregation of vapours " ? What wonder if, for him, the very beauty of nature should change into a repulsive hideousncss, and
vv. 1—11. THE PROLOGUE. 121
its steadfast iinclianging order be held a satire on tlic disorder and vanity of his life ?
Solomon moreover — and it is Solomon in his old age, sated and weary, whom the Preacher sets before us — liad had largo experience of life, had tried its ambitions, its lusts, its pleasures : he had tested every promise of good which it held forth, and found them all lies : he had drunk of every stream and found no pure living water that could slake his thirst. And men such as he, sated but not satisfied, jaded with voluptuous delights and with- out the peace of faith, commonly look out upon the world with haggard eyes. They feed their despair on the natural order and purity which they feel to be a rebuke to the impurity of their own restless and perturbed hearts. Many of us have no doubt stood on Eichmond Hill, and looked with softening eyes on the rich pastures dotted with cattle, broken with clumps of trees, through which shoot up village-spires, while the placid Thames winds in many a curve through pasture and wood. It is not a grand or romantic scene ; but on a quiet evening, in the long level rays of the setting sun, it is a scene to inspire content and lowly peaceful thoughts. Wilberforce tells us that he once stood on the balcony of a villa looking down on this scene. Beside him stood the owner of the villa, a duke notorious for his profligacy in a profligate age ; and as they looked across the stream, the duke cried out, "0 that river! there it runs, <jn and on, and I .so
122 THE PROLOGUE. Chap. 1.
weary of it ! " And there you liavn the very mood of Ecclesiastes ; the mood in which the fair smiling heavens and the gracious bountiful earth carry no benediction of peace, because they are reflected from a heart all tossed into crossing and impure waves.
All things depend on the heart we bring to them. This very contrast between Nature and Man has no despair in it, breeds no dispeace or anger in the heart at leisure from itself and at peace with God. Tennyson, for instance, makes a merry musical brook sing to us on this theme. Listen as I touch a note or two of its song : —
I como from haiuits of coot and horn.,
I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
I chatter over stonj' ways
In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.
I chatter, chatter as I flow
To join the brimming river ; For men may come and men may go.
But I (JO on for ever.
I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
1 slide by hazol covers ; 1 move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.
vv. 1—11. THE PROLOGUE. 123
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance
Among my skimming swallows ; I make the netted sunbeams danco
Against my sandy shallows.
I mmmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses ; I linger by my shingly bars ;
I loiter round my crosses ;
And oiit again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river ; For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
Vou son ; it is the very plaint of the Preacher set to sweet music. He murmurs, " One generation cometh, and another generation goeth, but the earth abideth for ever ; " while the refrain of the Brook is —
For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Yet we do not feel that the Brook is exulting over us, or that its song should feed any mood of grief or d('S]iair. The tune that it sings to the sleeping woods all night is " a cheerful tune." By some subtle process we are made to share its bright tender hilarity. Into what a fume would the Hebrew Preacher have been thrown had any little " babbling brook " dared to sing this saucy song to him ! He would have f(;lt it as an insult, and thought that the meny innocent creature a\ as " crowing " over the swiftly
124 THE PROLOGUE. Chat. I.
passing generations of men. But for the Christian Poet the Brook sings a song whose blithe dulcet strain attunes his heart to the quiet harmonies of peace and goodwill.
Again, I say, all depends on the heart we turn to nature. It was because his heart was heavy with the memory of many sins, because too the lofty Christian hopes were beyond his reach, that " the Son of David " grew mournful and bitter, or is thus represented in our Drama, as he looked at the strong ancient heavens and the stable bountiful earth, and thought of the weariness and brevity of human life.
This, then, is the mood in which the Preacher commences his Quest of the Chief Good. He is driven to it by the need of finding that in which he can rest. As a rule it is only on the stringent compulsions of need that this high Quest is undertaken. Of their own profound need of a Chief Good the vast majority of men are but seldom and faintly conscious ; but to the favoured few, who are to lead and mould the public thought, it comes with a force which will let them know no peace till the Quest be achieved. It was thus with Coheleth. He could not endure to think that those who have " all tilings put under their feet " should lie at the mercy of accidents from which their realm is exempt ; that they should be the mere fools of Change, while that abideth unchanged for ever. And therefore he set out to discover the condition in which thoy might become partakers of the order and stability and
vv. 1—11. THE PROLOGUE. 126
peace of nature — the condition in which, raised above all tides and storms of Change, they might sit calm antl serene even though the strong ancient heavens and the solid earth should vanish away. This, and only this, will he recognise as the Chief Good, the Good appropriate to the nature of man, because capable of satisfying his deepest cravings and supplying all his wants.
FlliST SECTION.
The Quest of tlte Chief Good in Wisdom and Pleasure. Chap. I., V. 12, to Chap. II., v. 26.
rniESSED by his profound sense of the vanity of the life which man lives amid the play of permanent natural forces, Coheleth sets out to search for that true and supreme Good which it will be well for the sons of men to pursue through the brief day of their life; the Good which will make them happy under all their toils, and be " a portion " so large and enduring as to satisfy tlieir vast desires. rr, n , • iir- ^ 1 Aud, as was natural in so wise a man, he turns first
Ihc Quest tn Wisdom. ^' -"-^^^^ ""-" '
cii;,i). I., vv. 12-it). to Wisdom. He gives himself diligently to inquire into all the actions and toils of men. He will see whether a larger acquaintance with their conditions, a juster and completer estimate of their lot, will remove the depression under which he labours. He devotes himself heartily to this Quest, and acquires a " greater wisdom than all who were before him." This wisdom is not a scientific know- ledge of social and political huvs, nor is it the result of
TIIK (iUKST OF THE CHIEF GOOD. 127
philosophical speculations on " the first good and the first fair," or on the moral nature and constitution of man. It is the wisdom that is born of wide and varied experience, not of abstract study. He acquaints himself with the lacts of human life, with the circumstances, thoughts, feel- ings, hopes, and aims of all sorts and conditions of men. He is fain to know " all that men do under the sun," " all that is done under heaven." Like the good Caliph of Arabian story, "the good Haroun Alraschid," we may sup- pose that Coheleth goes forth in disguise to visit all quarters of the city ; to talk with barbers, druggists, calen- ^ ders, with merchants and mariners, husbandmen and tradesmen, mechanics and artisans ; to try conclusions with travellers and with the blunt wits of homekeeping men. He will look with his own eyes and learn for him- - self what their lives are like, how they conceive of the human lot, and what, if any, are the mysteries whicli sadden and perplex them. He will ascertain whether they have any key that will unlock his perplexities, any wisdom that will solve his problems or help him to bear his burden with a more cheerful heart Because his depression was fed by every fresh contemplation of the order of the universe, he tunis from nature to the study of man. But this also he finds a heavy and disappointing task. After a complete and dispassionate scrutiny, when he has " seen miu'li wisdom and knowledge," he concludes that jnan has no fair reward "for all his labours that he labourelh under
128 THE QUEST Chap. I. v. 12 to
the sun," that no wisdom avails to set straight that which is crooked in human affairs or to bring back into the number of the living those who have " gone." The sense of vanity bred by his contemplation of the stedfast order of nature only grows more profound as he reflects on the numberless and manifold disorders which afflict humanity. And therefore, before he ventures on a new experiment, he makes a pathetic appeal to the heart which he had so earnestly applied to the search, and in which he had stored up so large and various a knowledge, and confesses that "even this is vexation of spirit," that " in much wisdom is much sadness," and that "to multiply knowledge is to multiply sorrow."
Now whether we consider the nature of the case or the conditions of the time in which this Book was written, we shall not be surprised at the mournful conclusion to which he conies. For the time was full of oppressions and cruel wrongs. Life was insecure. To acquire property was to court extortion. The captive Hebrews, and even the con- quering race which ruled them, were slaves to the caprice of satraps and magistrates whose days were wasted in revelry and in the unbridled indulgence of their lusts. And to go among the various conditions of men groaning under a despotism so terrible, to see all the fair rewards of honest toil withheld, the noble degraded and the foolish exalted, the righteous trodden down by the feet of the wicked : all this was not likely to quicken cheerfvd thoughts
Chap. I. v. 18. IN WISDOM. 129
in a wise man's heart ; instead of solving, it conld but complicate and darken the problems over wliicli he was already brooding in despair.
And apart from the special wrongs and oppressions oi' the time, it is inevitable in all times that the thoughtful student of men and manners should liecome a sadder as he becomes a wiser man. To multiply knowledge, at least of ^ this kind, is to multiply sorrow. We need not be cynics and leave our tub only to reflect on the dishonesty of ^ our neighbours ; we need only go through the world with open observant eyes in order to learn that " in much wisdom is much sadness." liecall the wisest of modern times, those who have had the most intimate acquaintance with man and men, — Goethe, Carlyle, Thackeray, for example ; are tliey not all touched witli a profound sadness ? * Do they not look with some scorn
* POro Lacordaire has a fino passage on this theme. " Weak and littlo minds find hero below a nourishment which suffices for their intellect and satisfies their love. They do not discover the emptiness of visible things because they are incapable of sounding them to the bottom. But a soul whom God has drawn nearer to the Infinite very soon feels the narrow limits within whicli it is pent ; it experiences moments of inexpressible sadness, the cause of which for a long time remains a mystery : it even seems as though some strange con- currence of events must have chanced in order thus to disturb its life, and all the while the trouble comes from a higher source. In reading th(! lives of tlic saints, we find that nearly all of them have felt that sweet melancholy of which the ancients said that there was no genius without it. In fact, melancholy is inseparable from every mind th-at looks below the surface and evcrj- heart that feels profoundly. Not that we should take complacency in it, for it is a malady that enervates wlu-n we Jo not shake it off; and it has but two remedies —
9
^
\- *'
130 THE QUEST Chap. II. v. 1, to
on the common life of the mass of men, with its base passions and pleasures, struggles and rewards ? and, in proportion as they have the spirit of Christ, is not their very scorn kindly, springing from a pity which lies deeper than itself? Did not even the Master Himself, though full of ruth and grace, share their feeling as He saw publicans growing rich by extortion, hj'pocrites mounting to Moses' chair, subtle cruel foxes couched on thrones, and the blind multitude following their blind leaders into the ditch ? In His pure and awful eyes did not the great bulk of His generation assume the form of a hideous struggling " knot of vipers," stinging and being stung ? Nay, if we look out upon the world of to-day, can we say that the majority of men are wise and pure ? Is it always tlie swift who win the race, and the strong who carry off the honours of the battle ? Do none of our " intelli- gent lack bread," nor any of the learned favour? Are there no fools lifted to high places to show with how little wisdom the world is governed, and no noble heroic breasts dinted by the blows of hostile circumstance or wounded by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune ? Are all our workmen diligent, and all our masters fair ? In our Trade Unions are there no tyrants as dastardly
Death or God." Elsewhere, still quite in the spirit of the Preacher, he says : " Every day I feel more and more that all is vanity. / cannot kare my heart in this heap of mud."
Chap. II. V. 11. IN PLEASURE. 131
and oppressive as any who sit on thrones ? Are no false balances and false measures known in our shops, and no frauds on our exchanges ? Are no homes dungeons, with fathers and husbands for jailors ? Do we never hear, as we stand -svithout, the sound of cruel blows and the shrieks of tortured captives ? Are there no hypocrites in our churches, none "that with devotion's visage sugar o'er" an evil heart ? and do the best men always rise to the highest place and honour ? Are there none in our midst who have to bear
tho whips and scorns of timo, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, Tlie insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes ?
Alas, if we think to find the true Good in a wide and varied ^ "^ knowledge of the conditions of men, their hopes and fears* their struggles and successes, their loves and hates, their rights and wrongs, their pleasures and their pains, we shall but share the defeat of the Preacher, and repeat his bitter cry, " Vanity of vanities, vanity of vanities ; all is vanity ! "
2. But if we cannot reach the object of our Quest in The Qtust in ruasure. Wisdom, we may perchance find it in Pleasure : mirthful ^^''P' "•' ^^- ^~"" enjoyment may have a charm for the sorrows which wis- dom has bred. This experiment has also been tried, tried _ on the largest scale and under the most favourable condi- tions. Wisdom failing to satisfy the large desires of his ^
9*
132 THE QUEST Chap. II.v.1,to
soul, or even to lift it from its depression, the Preacher turns to mirth. Once more, as he forthwith announces, he is disappointed in the result. He pronounces mirtli a brief madness : in itself, like wisdom, a good, it is not the Chief Good ; to make it supremo is to rob it of its natural charm.
Not content however with this general verdict, Cohc- leth recounts the details of his experiment. Speaking in the person of Solomon, he claims to have started on this quest with the greatest advantages ; for " what is the man that Cometh after the king whom they made king long ago ? " He surrounded himseK with all the luxuries of an Oriental prince. He built himself new costly palaces, as the Sultan of Turkey does, or did, almost every year. He laid out paradises, planted them with vines and fruit- trees of every sort, and large shady groves to screen off and attemper the heat of the sun. He dug great tanks and reservoirs of water, and cut channels which carried the cool vital stream through the gardens and to the roots of the trees. He bought men and maids, and surrounded himself with the retinue of servants and slaves requisite to keep his magnificent palaces and paradises in order, to serve his sumptuous tables, to swell the pomp of his public appearances : in fact, he gathered together such a train of ministers, attendants, domestics, indoor and out- door slaves, as is still thought necessary to the dignity of an Oriental " lord." His herds and Hocks, a main source
Chap. II. v. 11. IN PLEASURE. 133
of Orieutal wealth, were of finer strain and larger in number than had been known before. Ho amassed enormous treasures of silver and gold, tlie connnon Orieutal hoard. He collected the peculiar treasures of kings and of the kingdoms ;* whatever special commodity was yielded by any foreign land was caught up for his use by his olUcers or presented him by his allies. He hired eminent musicians and singers, and gave himseK to those delights of harmony which have had a peculiar charm for the Hebrews of all ages. He crowded his harem with the beauties of his own and foreign lands. He withheld nothing from them that his eyes desired, and kept not his heart from any pleasure. He set himself seriously to make happiness his portion ; and while alluring his body' with pleasures, he did not rush into them with the blind eagerness " whose violent property foredoes itself" and de- feats its own ends. His " mind guided him wisely " amid his delights; his "wisdom helped liim" to select and combine and vary them, to enhance and prolong their power Ijy a certain art and temperance in the enjoyment of them.
IIo biiilt bis soul a lordly ploasiiirc-houao,
^V^lOl•cin at case for aj'c to dwoll ; IIo said, ' Oh SoUl, mako uiorry and carouso,
Dear Soul, for all is well.'
• In spciikiui? of the Persian Revenue, Rawlinson siiys thiit besides a (letinite inoucy piiymcut, "n payment, the nature and amount of which wiu>
134 THE QUEST CHAr. II. v. 12 to
Alas, all was not well, though he took much pains to make and think it well. Even his choice delights soon palled upon his taste, and brought on conclusions of disgust. Even in his lordly pleasure -house he was haunted by the grim menacing spectres which had troubled him before it was built ; they "flitted" with him when he went up to dwell in it. In the harem, in the paradise he had planted, under the groves, beside the fountains, at tlie sumptuous banquet — a bursting bubble, a falling leaf, an empty wine cup, a passing blush sufficed to bring back the thought of the brevity of life. Wlien he had run the full career of pleasure and turned to con- template his delights and the labour it had cost him to obtain them, he found that these also were vanity and
\ vexation of spirit, that there was no " profit " in them,
j that they could not satisfy the deep incessant craving of
' the soul for a true and lasting Good.
Is not his sad verdict as true as it is sad ? We have
'' not his wealth of resources. Nevertheless our hearts may
have been as intent on pleasure as was his. We may have
' pursued whatever sensual, intellectual, or assthetic excite- ments were open to us with a growing eagerness till we have lived in a craving whirl of stimulated desire, in which
also fixed, had to bo made in kind, each province being required to furnish that commodity, or those comiiiudifics, for which it was most ccdebratud : " as, for examjilc, ^rain, sheci), mules, (ino breeds of horses, beautiful slaves. — The yjvc Great Monarchies, Vol. iv. chaji. vii. p. 421.
Chap. II. V. 23. IN WISDOM AND PLEASURE. 135
the claims of duty have been neglected and the rebukes of conscience unheeded. And if we have passed through this experience, if we have been carried for a time into this giddying round ; have we not come out of it jaded, ex- '^ hausted, despising ourselves for our folly, disgusted with wliat once seemed the very top and crown of delight ? Do wo not mourn, our after life through, over energies wasted and opportunities lost? Are we not sadder, if -^ wiser men, for our brief frenzy ? As we return to the sober duties and simple joys of life, do not we say to Mirth, " Thou art mad ! " and to Pleasure, " What canst thou do ? " Ah, yes ; our verdict is that of the Preacher, " Lo, this too is vanity ! "
3. It is characteristic of the philosophic temper of our nindom and Muth Author, I think, that after pronouncing Wisdom and ^'^''^pa'cd. Mirth vanities in which the true Good is not to be found, Chap, ii., w. 12—23. he does not at once proceed to try a new experiment, but pauses to compare these two " vanities," and to reason out his preference of one over the other. His vanity is wisdom. For it is only in one respect that he puts / niirtli and wisdom on an equality, viz. that they neither of them are, or contain, the supreme Good. In all other respects he affirms wisdom to be as much better than pleasure as light is better than darkness, as u much better as it is to have eyes that see the light than to be blind and walk in a constant gloom (vv, 12 — 14).
X
1/
136 THE QUEST Chap.II.v.12,to
It is because wisdom is a light and enables men to see that he accords it his preference. It is by the light of wisdom that he has learned the vanity of mirth, nay the insufficiency of wisdom itself. But for that light he might still be pursuing pleasures which could not satisfy, or laboriously acquiring a knowledge wliich would only deepen his sadness. Wisdom had opened his eyes to see that he must seek the Good which gives rest and peace in other regions. He no longer goes on his Quest in utter blindness, with all the world before liim where to choose, but with no indications of the course he should, or should not, take. He has already learned that two large provinces of himian life will not yield him what he seeks, that he must expend no more of his brief day and failing energies on these.
Therefore wisdom is better than mirth. Nevertheless it v is not best, nor can it remove the dejection of a thoughtful heart. Somewhere there is, there must be, thatwlrich is better stilL For wisdom cannot explain to him why the same fate shoidd befall both the sage and the fool (v. 15), nor can it abate the anger that burns within him against so potent and flagrant an injustice.* Wisdom cannot even explain
Compare Psalm xlix. 10, 11 : —
Wibe men ulao die, And ijriests together, as well a« the iguoi'aut aud the foolish, Aud leave their riches for others ;
C'liAi'. II. V. 23. IN WISDOM AND rLEAKURE. 137
why, even if tlic sage must die no less than the fool,. both must be forgotten well-nigh as soon as they are gone (vv. IG, 17) ; nor can it soften the hatred of life and its labours which this lesser yet obvious injustice has kindled in his heart. Nay, wisdom, for all so brightly as it sliines, throws no light on an injustice which, if of lower degree, frets and perplexes his thoughts ; — why a man who has laboured prudently and dexterously and acquired great gains should, when he dies, leave all to one who has not laboured therein, without even the poor consolation of knowing whether he will be a wise man or a fool (w. 19 — 21). In short, the whole skein of life is in a dismal tangle, which wisdom itseK, dearly as he loves it, cannot imravel ; and the tangle is this, that man has no fair "profit" from his labours, "since his task grieveth and vexeth him all his days, and even at night his heart hath no rest ;" and when he dies he loses all his gains for ever, and cannot so nmch as be sure that his heir wiU have any good of them. This, then, is vanity (vv. 22, 23).
And yet — and yet, good things are surely good, and '^^^^ CouiIumou. there is a wise gracious enjoyment of earthly delights ! It chup. ii. w. 21—0. is right that man should eat and drink and take a natural
Nay, tlio gTttvo is their everlasting habitation, Their dwclluij^-placc from f^cutratiou to gtiioratiou, Thuy who were had in houoiu' thi'oughout the laud I
ly^
138 THE QUE8T Chap. II. v. 24, to
pleasure in his toils. Who indeed has a stronger claim than the labourer himself to eat and enjoy the fruit of his labours ? Still, even this natural enjoyment is the gift of God ; apart from His blessing the heaviest toils will pro- duce but a scanty harvest and the faculty of enjoying it may be lacking. It is lacking to the sinner: his task is to heap up gains which the good will inherit. But he that is good before God will have the gains of the sinner added to his own, and wisdom to enjoy both. This, what- ever appearance may sometimes suggest, is the law of God's giving : that the good shall have abundance while the bad lack ; that more shall be given to him that hath, while from him who hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath. Nevertheless even this wise enjoy- ment of temporal good does not and cannot satisfy the craving heart of man: even this, when it is made the ruling aim and chief good of life, is vexation of spirit.
Thus the first Act of the Drama closes with a negation. The moral problem is as far from being solved as at the outset. All we have learned is that one or two avenues along which we urge the Quest will not lead us to the true and enduring Good. As yet the Preacher has only the ad iiiterim conclusion to offer us, that both Wisdom and Mirth are good, though neither is the supreme Good ; that we are therefore to acquire wisdom and knowledge and to blend pleasure with our toils : that we are to be-
Chap. II. V. 26. IN WISDOM AND PLEASURE. 139
lieve pleasure and wisdom to be the gifts of God, to believe also that they are bestowed, not by caprice, but according to the law which deals out good to the good and evil to the evil. Wo shall have other opportunities of weighing and appraising this counsel — it is often repeated — and of seeing how it works into and forms part of Cohelcth's tiual solution of the painful riddle of the earth, the per- plexing mystery of life.
SECOND SECTION.
21iG Quest uf the Chief Good in Devotion to tJix Affairs of Biisiness.
Chap. HI. V. 1, to Chap. V. v. 20.
The Quest obstructed by Divine Ordinances;
Chap. III., vv. 1—15.
F the true Good of Man is not to be found in the School where Wisdom utters her voice, nor in the Garden in which Pleasure spreads her lures : may it not be found in tlie Market, in devotion to Busmess and Public Affairs ? The Preacher will try this experiment also. He gives himself to study and consider it. But at the very outset he discovers that he is in the iron grip of immutable divine ordinances, by which " seasons " are appointed for every imdertaking under heaven (v. 1), ordinances which derange man's best-laid schemes, and " shape his ends rough-hew them how he will." The time of birth for instance, and the time of death, are ordained by a Power over wliich men have no control ; they begin to be, and they cease to be, at hours whose stroke they can neither hasten nor retard. The season for sowing and the season for reaping are fixed without any reference to their wish ; they must
THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD. Hi
plant aud gather in when the unchangeable laws of Nature Avill perniit (v. 2). Even thosi; violent deaths, and those narrow escapes from death, which seem most purely fortui- tous, are pre-determined ; as are also all the accidents whicli befall our abodes (v. 3). So, again, if only because deter- mined by these accidents, are the feelings with which we regard them, our weeping aud our laughter, our mourning and our rejoicing (v. 4). If we only clear a plot of ground from stones in order that we may cultivate it, or that we may fence it with a wall ; or if an enemy cast stones over our arable land to unfit it for uses of husbandry — a malignant act frequent in the East — and we have pain- fully to gather them out again : even this, which seems so purely within the scope of human freewill, is also within the scope of the divine decrees, as are the very embraces we bestow on those who are dear to us, or withhold from them (v. 5). The varying and unstable desires M-hicli prompt us to seek this object or that as earnestly as mo afterwards carelessly cast it away, and the passions which impel us to rend our garments over our losses, and by-and- by to sew up the rents not without some little wonder that we should ever have been so deeply moved by that which now sits so lightly on us ; these passions and desires, which at one time strike us dumb with grief and so soon after make us voluble with joy, with all our lleeting and easily-moved hates and loves, strifes and reconciliations, all move within the circle of law, although they wear so
142 THE QUEST Chap. III. v. 1, to
lawless a look, and are obsequious to the ordinances and canons of Heaven (vv. 6 — 8). They travel their cycles ; tliey return in their appointed order. The uniformity of Nature is reproduced in the uniform recurrence of the chances and changes of human life ; for in this as in that God repeats Himself, recalling the past (v. 15). The thing that hath been is that which is and will be. Social laws are as constant and as inflexible as natural laws. The social generalizations of Modern Science — as given, for instance in Buckle's " History " — are but a methodical elaboration of the conclusion at which the Preacher here arrives.
Of what use, then, was it for men to " kick against the pricks," to attempt to modify immutable ordinances ? " Whatever God hath ordained contiuueth for ever; nothing can be added to it, and nothing can be taken from it"(v. 14). Nay, more : why should we care to alter or modify the social order ? Everything is beautiful and appropr^ite in its time, from birth to death, from war to peace (v. 11). If we cannot find the satisfying Good in the events and affairs of life, in its recurring times and seasons, that is not because we could devise a happier order for them, but because God " hath put eternity into our hearts," as well as time, and did not intend that we should be satisfied till we attain an eternal good. If only we "understood" that, if only we knew God's design for us " from beginning to end," and suffered eternity no less than time to have its
Chap. IV. V. 3. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 143
duo of US, we should not fret ourselves in vain endeavours to change the unchangeable, or to find an enduring good in tliat which is perishable and fugitive. We should rejoice and do ourselves good all our brief life (v. 12) ; we should eat and drink and take pleasure in our labours (v. 13) ; we should feel that this faculty of innocently enjoying simple pleasures and wholesome toils is " a gift of God :" we should conclude that God had ordained that regidar cycle and order of events which so often frustrates the wish and endeavour of the moment, in order that we should fear Him in place of relying on ourselves (v. 14), and trust our future to Him who so wisely and graciously recalls the past.
But not only are our endeavours to find the true Good ^^^ ^'"^ *'^ ^^"'""^
Injustice and I'er-
thwarted by the gracious inflexible laws of the just God : remVy.
they are often baffled by the injustice of ungracious men. chap. in., v. if., to
In the days of Coheleth, Iniquity sat in the seat of justice, Chap, iv., v. 3.
wresting all rules of equity to its base private ends (v. 16).
Unjust judges and rapacious satraps put the fair rewards
of labour and skill and integrity in jeopardy ; insomuch
that if a man by industry and thrift, by a wise observance
of the divine laws and seasons, had acquired affluence,
he was too often, in the expressive Eastern phrase, but
as a sponge which any petty despot might squeeze. The
frightful oppressions of the time were a heavy burden to
the Hebrew Preacher. He brooded over them, seeking for
" aids to faith" and comfortabh.' words wherewith to solace
144 THE QUEST CiiAr. III. v. 16, to
the oppressed. For a moment he thought he had lit on the true comfort. " Well, well," he said within himself, " God will judge the righteous and the wicked ; for there is a time for everything and for every deed with Him" (v. 17). Could he have rested in this thought it would have been " a sovereign balm" to him, or indeed to any other Hebrew ; although to us, who have learned to desire the redemption rather than the punishment of the wicked, their redemption through their inevitable punishments, the true comfort would still have been wanting. But he could not rest in it, could not hold it fast, and confesses that he could not. He lays his heart bare before us. We are permitted to trace the fluctuations of his thought and feeling. No sooner has he whispered to his heart that God, who is at leisure from Hunself and has endless time at His command, will visit the oppressors and avenge the oppressed, than his thoughts take a new turn, and he adds : " And yet, God may have chosen the children of men only to show them that they are no better than the beasts" (v. 18). * Eepugnant as the thought is, it nevertheless fascinates him for the instant. He yields to its wasting and degrading magic. He not only suspects, fears, thinks
* Compare the refrain of Psalm xlix. as given in Verse 12, and apain in Verso 20—
And man in his frlory, so he have no miderslandinp.
Is like unto the beasts that are slaughtei'od and perish.
Chap. IV. v. 3. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 145
iliat man is no better than a beast ; he is quite sure of it, and proceeds to argue it out. His argument is very sweep- ing, very sombre. " A mere chance is man, and the beast a mere chance." Both spring from a mere accident, no one can tell how, and have a blind hazard for creator ; and both are " subject to the same chance " throughout tlieir lives, all the decisions of their intelligence and will being overruled by the decrees of an inscrutable fate. Both perish under the same power of death, suffer the same pangs of dissolution, are taken at unawares by an invisiljlc yet resistless force. The bodies of both spring from the same dust, and moulder back into dust. Nay, " both have the same spirit;" and though vain man sometimes boasts that at death his spirit goeth upward, while that of the beast goeth downward, yet who can prove it ? For himself, Coheleth doubts, and even denies it. He is absolutely convinced that in birth and life and death, in body and spirit and final fate, man is as the beast is, and hath no advantage over the beast (vv. 19—21). And therefore he falls back on his old conclusion, though now with a sadder heart than ever, that man wiU do wisely, that, being so blind and having so dark a prospect, he cannot do more wisely than, to take what pleasure and enjoy what good he can amid his labours. If he is a beast, nay, as he is a beast, let him at least learn of the beasts that simple tranquil enjoyment of the good of the passing moment, untroubled by any vexing presage of what is to come, in
10
146 THE QUEST Chap. III. v. IG, to
wliich it must be allowed they are greater proficients than he (v. 22).
Thus, after rising, in the first fifteen verses of this Third Chapter, to an almost Christian height of patience and resignation and holy trust in the providence of God, Coheleth is smitten by the injustice and oppressions of man into the depths and despairs of a blank materialism.
But now a new question arises. The Preacher's survey of Human Life has shaken his faith even in the conclusion which lie has announced from the first, viz. : that there is nothing better for a man than a quiet content, a busy cheerfulness, a tranquil enjoyment of the fruit of his toils. This at least he had supposed to be possible : but is it ? All the activities, industries, tranquilities of life are jeo- pardized now by the inflexible ordinances of Heaven and again by the capricious tyranny of man. To this tyranny his countrymen are now exposed. They groan imder its heaviest oppressions. As he turns and looks (chap. iv. V. 1) on their unalleviated and unfriended misery, he doubts whether content or even resignation can be expected of them. With a tender sympathy that lingers on the details of their unhappy lot and deepens into a passionate despairing melancholy, he witnesses their sufferings, and counts " the tears of the oppressed." With the emphasis of a Hebrew and an Oriental, he dwells on the fact that " they had no comforter" that though " their oppressors
Chap. IV. v. 3. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 147
wevc violent, yet had they no comforter." For throughout the East, and among the Jews to this day, the manifesta- tion of sympatliy with those who suffer is far more common a. id formal than it is with us. Neighbours and acquaintance are expected to pay long visits of condolence ; friends and kinsfolk will travel long tlis- tances to pay them. Their respective places and duties in the house of mourning, their dress, words, bearing, prece- dence, are regulated by an elaborate etiquette. And, strange as it may seem to us, these visits are regarded not only as gratifying tokens of respect, but as a singular relief and consolation to the alllicted or bereaved. To the Preacher and his fellow-captives, therefore, it would be a bitter aggravation of their grief that, while suffering under the most violent oppressions of misfortune, they were compelled to forego the solace of these customary tokens of respect and sympathy. As he pondered their sad and unfriended condition, Coheleth, like Job when his com- forters failed him, is moved to curse his day. The dead, he affirms, are happier than the living* — even the dead who
* Xerxes, in his invasion of Greece, conceived the wish " to look upon all his host." A throne was erected for him on a hill near Abydos, sitting on which ho looked doMm and saw the Hellespont covered with his ships, and the vast plain swarming with his troops. As ho looked, he wept; and when his uncle Artabanus asked him the cause of his tears, he replied : " There camo upon me a sudden pity when I thought of tho shortness of iiiun's life, and considered that of all this host, so numerous as it is, not one will be alive when a hundred years are gone by." This is one of the most striking and best-known incidents
10*
148 THE QUEST Chap. IV. v. 4, to
died so long ago, that the fate most dreaded in the East had befallen them, and the very memory of them had perished from the earth : while happier thar- either the dead, who had had to suffer in their time, or tha>i the living, whose doom had still to be borne, were those who had never seen the light, never been born into a world all disordered and out of course (w. 2, 3). It is rendered hopeless This stinging sense of the miserable estate of his race y t e ase ngin o j^^^ however, diverted the Preacher from the conduct of
Human Industnes. ' '
the main argument he had in hand : to that he now Chap, iv., vv. 4— 8. rctums (v. 4). And now he argues: "You cannot hope to get good fruit from a bad root. But the several in- dustries in which you are tempted to seek ' the chief good and market of your time ' have a most base and evil origin: they ' spring from the jealous rivalry of one with the other.' Every man tries to outdo and to outsell his neighbour ; to secure a larger business, to surround himseK with a wealthier luxury, or to amass an ampler hoard of gold. This business-life of yours is utterly selfish and therefore
in the life of the Persian despot; but the rejoinder of Artabanus, though in a far hifrher strain, is less generally kno\\Ti. I quote it here as an illustration of the Preacher's mood. Said Artabanus : " And yet there arc sadder things in life than that. Short as our time is, there is no man, whether it be here among this multitude or elsewhere, who is so happy as not to have felt the wish — I will not say once, but full many a time — that he were dead rather than alive. Calamities fall upon us, sicknesses vex and harass us, and make life, short though it be, to appear long. Ho dvatJi, through the ivretchcdncssof our life, is n most sweet refuge to our race." — Herodotus, Eook vii., c. 4G.
Chap. IV. v. 8. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 149
utterly base. You are not content with a sufficient pro- vision for simple wants. You do not seek your neighbour's •food. You have no noble or patriotic aim. Your ruling intention is to enrich yourselves at the expense of your neighbours, who are your rivals rather than your neigh- bours, and who try to get the better of you just as you try to get the better of them. Can you hope to find the true Good in a life whose aims are so sordid, whose motives so selfish ? Why, the very sluggard who folds his hands in indolence so long as he has bread to eat is a wiser man than you ; for he has at least his ' handful of quiet,' knows some little enjoyment of his life ; while you, driven on by jealous competition and the eager cravings of insatiable desires, have no leisure and no appetite for enjoyment : both your hands are full, indeed, instead of one, but there is no quiet in them, only labour, labour, labour, with vexation of spirit " (vv. 5, 6).
So intense and selfish was this rivalry, increase of appetite growing by what it fed upon, so keen grew the mere desire to amass, that the Preacher paints a portrait of a man for which no doubt many a Hebrew might have sat — of a man ? nay, rather of a miser — who, though solitary and kinless, with not even a son or a brother to inherit his wealth, nevertheless hoards up riches to the close of his life ; there is no end to his labours ; he never can be rich enough to allow himself any enjoyment of his gains (w. 7, 8).
150 THE QUEST Chap. IV. v. y, tc
Yet these nre cnpabie NoNv a jealous rivalry Culminating in mere avarice, — of a nobler Motive ^j^^t siirelv is not the wiscst or noblest spirit of which
aud Mode.
those are capable who devote themselves to affairs. Even Chap, iv., vv. 9—16. « the idols of the market " may have a purer cnlt than that. Business, like Wisdom and Mirth, may neither be nor contain the supreme Good : still, like them, it is not in itself and of necessity an evil. There must be a better mode of devotion to it than this selfish greedy one ; and such a mode Coheleth, before he pursues his argument to its close, pauses to point out. As if anticipating a modern theory which daily grows in favour with the wiser sort of mer- cantile men, he suggests that co-operation* should be substituted for competition. " Two are better than one," he argues ; " Union is better than isolation; conjoint labour brings the larger reward " (v. 9). To bring his suggestion home to the business-bosom of men, he uses five illustrations, four of which have a strong Oriental colouring.
The first is that of two pedestrians (v. 10): if one should fall — aud such an accident, owing to the bad roads and long cumbrous robes common in the East, was by no means infrequent, — the other is ready to set him on his feet :
* It may save a misconception if I say that I use this word in its ety- mological rather than in its modern technical .sense, as indicating the sjiirit that should animate Chi-istian commerce rather than as defining special modes of conducting it.
Chap. IV. v. 16. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS.
161
while if he is alone, the least that can befall him is that his robes will be sadly trampled and bcmired before he can gather himself up again. In the second illustration (v. 11), our two travellers, wearied by their journey, sleep together at its close. Now in Syria the nights are often keen and frosty, and the heat of the day makes men more susceptible to the nightly cold. The sleeping-chambers, moreover, have only unglazed lattices which let in the frosty air as well as the welcome light ; the bed is com- monly a simple mat, the bedclothes only the garments worn through the day. And therefore the natives huddle together for the sake of warmth. To lie alone was to lie shivering in the chill night air. The third illustration (v. 12) is also taken from the East. Our two travellers, lying snug and warm on their common mat, buried in slumber — that " dear repose for limbs with travel tired," were very likely to be disturbed by thieves who had dug a hole into the house, or crept under the tent, to carry off what they could. These thieves, always on the alert for travellers, are marvellously supple, rapid, and silent in their movements : but as the traveller, aware of his dancer, commonly puts his " bag of needments " or valuables under his head, it docs sometimes happen that the deftest thief will rouse him by withdrawing it. If one of our two wayfarers was thus aroused, he would call on his comrade for help, and between them the thief would stand a poor chance ; but the solitary traveller, suddenly roused froui
152 THE QUEST CiiAr. IV. v. 9, to
sleep, with no helper at hand, would stand a worse chance than the thief. The fourth illustration (v. 12) is that of the threefold cord — three strands twisted into one, which, as we all know, English no less than Hebrew, is much more than three times as strong as any one of the separate strands.
But in the fifth and most elaborate illustration (vv, 13, 14), we are once more carried back to the East. The slightest acquaintance with Oriental history will teach us how uncertain is the tenure of royal power ; how often it has happened that a prisoner has been led from a dungeon to a throne, and a prince suddenly reduced to penury. Coheleth supposes such a case. On the one hand, we have a king old but not venerable, since, long as he has lived, he has not " even yet learned to be admonished : " he has led a solitary, selfish, suspicious life, secluded himself in his harem, surrounded himself with a troop of flattering freedmen and slaves. On the other hand, we have " the poor sociable youth " who has lived with all sorts and conditions of men, acquainted himself with their habits and wants and desires, and conciliated their regard. His growing popularity alarms the old despot and his minions. He is cast into prison. His wrongs and sufferings endear him to the wronged suffering people. By a sudden out- break of popular wrath, by a revolution such as often sweeps through Eastern states, he is set free — led from the prison to the throne ; while the dethroned tyrant becomes
Chap. IV. v. 16. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 163
a pensioner on his bounty, or wanders through the land a beggar asking an alms. This is the picture in the mind's eye of the Preacher ; and, as he contemplates it, he rises into a kind of prophetic rapture : he cries, " I see — I see all the living who walk under the sun flocking to the sociable youth as he standeth up in his place : there is no end to the multitude of the people over whom he ruleth!" (v. 15.)
By these graphic illustrations Coheleth sets forth the superiority of the sociable over the solitary and selfish temper, of union over isolation, of the neighbourly goodwill which leads men to combine for their common weal over the jealous rivalry wliich prompts them to take advantage of each other and to labour each for himself alone.
But even as he urges this better happier temper on men occupied with the business and politics of the State, even as he contemplates its brightest illustration in the youthful prisoner whose winning sociable qualities have lifted him to a throne, the old mood of melancholy comes back upon him ; there is the familiar pathetic break in his voice as he con- cludes (v. 16), that even the bright sociable youth who wins all hearts for a time will soon be forgotten, that " even this," for all so hopeful as it looks, " is vanity and vexation of spirit,"
A profound gloom rests on the Second Act or Section of this Drama. It has already taught us that we are helpless
154 THE QUEST Chai>. V. v. 1, to
in the iron grip of laws wliich we had no voice in making ; that we often lie at the mercy of men whose mercy is but a caprice ; that in our origin and end, in body and spirit, in faculty and prospect, in our lives and pleasures we are no better than the beasts which perish : that the avo- cations into %vhich we plunge, and amid which we seek to forget our sad estate, spring from our jealousy the one of the other, and tend to a lonely miserliness without an use or a charm. The Preacher's familiar conclusion, — "Be tranquil; be content; enjoy as much as you can:" even this has grown doubtful to him. He has seen the brightest promise come to nought. In a new and profounder sense, " All is vanity and vexation of spirit."
But though passing through a great darkness, the Preacher sees, and reflects, some little light. Even when facts seem flatly to contradict it, he holds fast to the con- clusion that wisdom is better than' folly, and kindness better than selfishness, and to do good even though you lose by it better than to do evil and gain by it. His faith wavers only for a moment ; it never altogether lets go its hold. And in the Fifth Chapter the light grows, though even here the darkness does not wholly disappear. We are sensible that the twilight in which we stand is not that of evening, which will deepen into night, but that of morning, which will shine more and more until the day dawn, and the day-star arise in the calm heaven of patient tranquil hearts.
Chap. V. v. 7- IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 155
The men of affairs are led from the avocations of the So niso a happier and Market and the intrigues of the Divan into the House of 7'7, •^"f?^'^'' ^"^"^^""^
" of Worship IH open to
God. Our first glance at the worshippers is not hopeful or Men :
inspiriting. For here are men who offer sacrifices in lieu of obedience ; and here are men whose prayers are a vain voluble repetition of phrases which run far in advance of their limping thoughts and desires : and there are men very quick to make vows in moments of peril, but slow to re- deem them when the peril is past. At first the House of God looks very like a House of Merchandise, in which brokers and traders drive a traffic quite as dishonest as any that disgraces the Exchange, But while the merchants and courtiers stand criticizing the conduct of the worshippers^ the Preacher turns upon them and shows them that they are the worshippers whom they criticize : that he has held up a glass in which they see themselves as others see them ; that it is they who vow and do not pay, they who hurry on their mouths to utter words which their hearts do not prompt, they who take the roundabout course of sinning and sacrificing for sin instead of that plain road of obedi- ence which leads straight to God.
But what comfort for them is there in that? How should it help them to be tlms beguiled into condemning themselves ? Truly, there would not be much comfort in it, did not the compassionate Preacher forthwith disclose tlie secret of this dislionest worship, and give them counsels for amendment.
Chap, v., vv. 1 — 7-
156 THE QUEST Chap. V. v. 8, to
He discloses this secret in two verses, which have much perplexed the Commentators — viz., verses 3 and 7. He there explains that just as dreams come from the multitude of thoughts that have been in the mind during the day, -so also the vain show of worship springs from the multitude of affairs w^hich men permit to occupy and distract their thoughts. In effect he says to them : " You men of affairs too often get little help or comfort from the worship of God, because you come to it with pre-occupied hearts ; because you are so entangled in the cares of life that you cannot extricate yourselves from the net even when you go to Synagogue. Hence it is that you often promise more than you care to perform, and utter prayers more devout and earnest than any fair expression of your desires would be, and offer sacrifices to avoid the charge and trouble of obedience to the divine laws. Now as I have shown you a more excellent way of transacting business than that selfish grasping mode to which you are addicted, so also I will show you a more excellent style of worship. Go to the House of God ' with a straight foot,' a foot trained to walk in the path of holy obedience. Keep your heart, lest it should be diverted from the devout homage it should pay. Do not iirge and press your heart to a false emotion or your mouth to an insincere utterance. Let your words be few and reverent when you speak to the Great King. Do not vow except under the compulsion of steadfast resolves, and pay your vows even to your own hurt when once they are
Chap. V. v. 17. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 167
made. Do not anger God with idle talk and idle half-meant resolves. But in all the exercises of yuur worship show a holy fear of the Almighty ; and then, under the worst oppressions of fortune and the heaviest calamities of time, you shall find the House of God a Sanctuary, and His worship a strength, a consolation, a delight." This was very wholesome counsel for men of business — was it not?
Not content with this, however, the Preacher goes on to And a more luipfui show how, when they returned from the House of God to "'^d ^on«oiatory Tru«t
'' m the Uivine I'roNn-
the common round of their life, and were once more ex- dcnco. posed to its miseries and distractions, there were certain
Chap, v., vv. »— 17.
comfortable and sustaining thoughts on which they might stay their spirits. To the worship of the Sanctuary he would have them add a strengthening trust in the Provi- dence of God. That Providence was expressed, as in other ordinances, so also in these two : —
First : Whatever oppressions and perversions of justice and equity there were in the land (v. 8), still the judges and satraps who oppressed them were not supreme : there was an official hierarchy in which superior watched over superior : and if justice were not to be liadof one, it might be had of another who was above him : if it were not to be had of any, no, not even of the king himself, there was still the comfortable conviction that, in the last resort, even the king was "the servant of the field" (v. 0), i.e., was dependent on the wealth and produce of the land.
158 THE QUEST Chap. V. v. 8, to
and could not, therefore, be unjust with impunity, or push his oppressions too far lest he should decrease his revenue or depopulate his realm. This was " the advantage " the people had : and if it were in itself but a slight advantage to this man or that, clearly it was a great advantage to the body politic ; while as an indication of the Providence of God, of the care with which he had arranged for the security of the poorest and meanest, it was full of con- solation.
The second fact, or class of facts, in which they might recognize the gracious care of God was this, — That the unjust judges and wealthy cruel lords who oppressed them had very much less satisfaction in their fraudulent gains and luxuries than they might suppose. God had so made men that injustice and selfishness defeated their own ends, and those who lived for wealth and would do evil to acquire it made but a poor bargain after all. " He that loveth silver is never satisfied with silver, nor he that loveth riches with what they yield " (v. 10). " When riches increase, they increase that consume them " — dependents, parasites, servants, slaves flock round the man who rises to wealth and place. He cannot eat and drink more, or enjoy more, than when he was a man simply well-to-do in the world ; the only advantage he has is that he sees others consume what he has acquired at so great a cost (v. 11). He cannot know the sweet refreshing sleep of husbandmen weary with toil (v. 12), for his heart is full of care and
Chap. V. v. 17. IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 169
apprehension. Robbers may drive off liis flocks, or lift his cattle : his investments may fail, or his secret hoard be plun- dered : he must trust much to servants, and they may be unfaithful to their tmst : his official superiors may ruin him with the bribes they extort, or the prince himself may want a sponge to squeeze. If none of these evils befall him, he may apprehend, and have cause to apprehend, that his heir longs for his death, and will be little better than a fool, wasting in wanton riot what he has shown such painful dexterity in storing up (vv. 13, 14). And, in any event, he cannot take his wealth with him on the last journey (vv. 15, 16). So that, naturally enough, he is much "per- turbed, hath great vexation and grief" (v. 17), cannot sleep for his apprehensive care for his " abundance ; " and at last must go out of the world as bare and unprovided as he came into it.* He labours for the wind, and reaps what he has sown. Was such a life, mounting to such a close, a thing to long for and toil for? Was it worth while to hurl oneself against the adamantine laws of heaven and risk the oppressions of earth, to injure one's
* Compare Psalm xlix., %-\'. IG, 17.
Be not afraid thoufrh one bo made rich,
Or if the glory of his house be increased; For he nhall carry iiothituj awai/ tcith him when he ditth, Xeithcr shall his pomp follow him. It lends new force to the citations from (his Psalm (sec foot-notes on p. l.'Sfi, and on p. Ml), if we accept Ewald's date for it, and regard it as one of the Psalms of the Captivity.
160 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
neighbours, to sink into an insincere distracted worship and a weakening distrust of the providence of God, in order to spend anxious toilsome days and sleepless nights, and at last to go out of the world naked of all but sin, and rich in nothing but the memories of frauds and oppressions ? ]\iight not even a captive, whose sleep was sweetened by toil, and who from his holy trust in God and the sacred dehghts of honest worship gathered strength to endure all the oppressions of the time and to enjoy whatever allevia- tions and innocent pleasures came to him : — might not even he be a wiser happier man than the despot at whose caprice he stood ? The Conclusion. For himself Coheleth has a very decided opinion on this
point. He is quite sure that his first conclusion is sound, though for a moment he had doubted its soundness, and that a quiet cheerful heart is better than the wealthiest estate. With all the emphasis of renewed and now im- movable conviction he declares, " Behold, that which I have said holds good ; it is well for a man to eat and to drink, and to enjoy the good of all his labours through the brief day of his life. And I have also said, that a man to whom God hath given riches and wealth" — for even the rich man may be a good man and use his riches wisely — " if He hath also enabled him to eat thereof, and to take his portion, and to rejoice in his labour : this is a gift of God. He should remember that the days of liis life are not many, and that God meant him to work for the enjoyment of his heart."
Chap. V , vv. 18—20.
IN DEVOTION TO I5USINESS. ICI
II.* There are not many Englishmen who devote them- selves solely or mainly to the act|uisitiun of Wisdom, and who, that they may teach the children of men what it is good for them to know, live laborious days, withdrawing from the pursiut of wealth and scorning the delights of ease. Nor do those who give themselves exclusively to the pur- suit of Pleasure constitute more than a very small and miserable class, though most of us have wasted upon it days that we could ill spare. But when the Hebrew Preacher, having followed his Quest of the su]3reme Good in Pleasure and Wisdom, turns to the affairs of J3usiness — and I use that term as including both commerce and politics — he enters a field of action with which we are nearly all familiar, and can hardly fail to speak words that will come home to our bosoms. For whatever else we may or may not be, we are almost all of us worshippers of the great god Traffic — a god whose wholesome benignant face too often lowers and darkens, or ever we are aware, into the sordid and malimant features of Mammon.
* In commenting: on the Second and Tliird Sections of this Book I fmuid or fancied that both the exposition of the Kicred text and the application of its lessons to the details of modem life would gain in force by being handled sepa- rately. The second part of each of these Sections consists mainl_v, therefore, of an exhortation based upon the previous exposition, the marginal notes indi- cating the passages on which the exhortations arc fcjundcd. Ilort^itory lectures are not perhaps as a rule either very pleasant or very instnictive reading ; and I am by no means sure that these lectures will be found an exception to the rule. I retain them simply because I hope that, despite their defects, they help to bring out (he spirit and meiining of the Book.
11
162 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
Now in dealing with this broad and momentous depart- ment of human life, the Preacher exhibits the candour and temperance which marked liis treatment of Wisdom and Mirth. Just as he would not suffer us to think of Wisdom as in itself an evil, nor of Pleasure as aught but the good gift of a good God ; so neither will he suffer us to think of Business as essentially and of necessity an evil. This, like tliose, may be abused to our hurt ; but none the less they may all be used, and were meant to be used, for our own and our neighbours' good. Pursued in the right method, from the right motive, with the due moderation and reserve, Business, as he is careful to point out, besides bringing other great advantages, may be a new bond of union and brotherhood : it develops intercourse among men and races of men, and should develop sympathy, good will, and a mutual helpfulness. Nevertheless, thrift may dege- nerate into miserliness, and the honest industry of content into a dishonest eagerness for undue gains, and a wise attention to business into an excessive devotion to busi- ness. These degenerate tendencies had struck their roots deep into the Hebrew mind of his day and brought forth many bitter fruits. The Preacher describes and denounces them ; he lays an axe to the very roots of these evil growths ; but it is only that he may clear a space for the fairer growths which sprang beside them, and of which these were the wild bastard offshoots.
Throughout this second Section of the Book, his subject
IN DEVO HON TO BUSINESS. 163
is Excessive Devotion to Business and tlic Correctives to it wliicli his wisdom enabled liiui to su^'gcst.
1. His handling of this Subject is very thorougli and complete. Men of business could hardly do better than get these three Chapters and the lessons they teach by heart : they would find in them a " Manual of Conrluct " happily adapted to their needs. According to the Preacher, their excessive devotion to affairs springs from " a jealous rivalry of the one with the other : " it tends to form in them a grasping covetous temper which can never be satisfied, to produce a materialistic scepticism of all that is noble and spiritual in Thought and Action, to render their worship formal and insincere, and, in general, to incapacitate them for any quiet happy enjoyment of tlieir life. This is his diagnosis of their disease, or of that diseased tendency which, if it be for the most part latent in them, always threatens to become pronounced and to infect all healthy conditions of the soul.
(«) Let us glance once more at the several symptoms he Devotion to Busiacss has described, and consider whether or not they accord Co^^^tiZ"!-^"^'^'"^ with the results of our observation and experience. Is it true, then— or, rather, is it not true, that an excessive de- ^^'i'- ^^•' ''• *• votion to business springs from the keen jealous rivalry which obtains among us? If, some two or three and twenty centuries ago, the Jews were bent every man on outdoing and outselling his neighbour ; if his main ambi- tion was to amass a greater wealth or to secure a larger
11*
/
104 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
business than his competitor, or to make a handsomer show before the workl ; if in the urgent pursuit of this ambition he held his neighbours not as neighbours but as unscrupu- lous rivals, keen for gain at his expense and to rise by liis fall; if, to reach his end, he was willing to get up early and go late to rest, to force all his energies into an injurious activity and strain them close to the snapping-point : — if this were a fair likeness of the Jew of that time, might you not easily take it for a portrait of the average English trader ? Is it not as accurate a delineation of his life as it could possibly be of any Hebrew form of life ? If it be — and all the moralists of the age are agreed that our exces- sive devotion to Commerce, our intense faith in mere mer- cantile greatness, is sapping the nobler elements of our national life — we have great need to take the Preacher's warning. We greatly need to remember that the stream cannot rise above its source, nor the fruit be better than the root from which it grows; that the business ardour which has its origin in a base and selfish motive can only be a base and selfish ardour. When men gather grapes from thorns and figs from thistles, tlien, but not before, we may look to find a satisfying good in " all the toil and all the dexterity in toil" which spring from this "jealous rivalry of the one with the other." ft tonds to fonn a (h) Nor, in the face of facts patent to the most cursory
Covetous Temper ; observer, Can we deny that this eager and excessive devotion ciiui). IV., V. 8. to the successful conduct of business tends to produce a
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 165
grasping covetous temper, which, however much it has gained, is for ever seeking more. It is not only true tliat the stream cannot rise above its source : it is also true that the stream will run downwards, and must inevitably con- tract many pollutions from the lower levels on which it declines. The ardour wliich impels men to devote them- selves with an eager intensity to the labours of the Market may often have an origin as pure as that of the stream which bubbles up on the summit of a mountain, amid tlie sweetest grass and tenderest ferns, and which runs tinkling along its clear rocky channels, setting its labour to a happy music, singing its low sweet song to the sweet listening air. But as it runs on, if it swell in volume and power, it also dnks and grows foul. Bent at first on acquiring the means to support a widowed mother or to cherish a wife very dear to him, to provide for his cliildren, or to win an honourable place, or to promote some public end, the man of business too often suffers himscK to become more and more absorbed in his trallic. lie conceives larger schemes, is drawn into more perilous enterprises, and advances through these to fresh openings and opportunities, until at last, long after his original ends are compassed and forgotten, he finds himself possessed by the mere craving to extend his labours and resources, or the mere desire to amass — a craving which often "teareth" and tormenteth him, but which can be exorcised only by an exertion of spiritual force which would leave him half dead. " lie has no one
166 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
witli him, not even a son or a brother ; " the dear mother or wife is long since dead ; his children, to use liis own de- testable phrase, are " off his hands ; " the public good has slipped from his memory and aims : but still " there is no end to all his labours, neither are his eyes satisfied with riches." Coheleth speaks of one such man : alas, of how many such might we speak ? To produro a Material- / n -jj^^ » speculation" in the oycs of busincss men is not
istic Scepticism ; ^ '
commonly of a philosophic cast, and therefore we do not Chap. III., w. 18—21. Iqq]^ to find them arguing themselves into the blank materialism which infected the Hebrew Preacher as he contem.plated them and their blind devotion to Traffic. They are far, perhaps very far, from thinking that in body and spirit, in origin and end, in faculty and prospect, man is no better than the beast — the creature of the same accident and subject to " the same chance." But though they do not reason out a conclusion so sombre and repugnant, do they not practically acquiesce in it ? If it is far from their thoughts, do they not live in its close neighbourhood ? Their mind, like the dyer's hand, is subdued to that it works in. Accustomed to think mainly of material interests, their character is materialized. They are disposed to weigh all things — truth, righteousness, the motives and aims of nobler men — in the gross scales of tlieir merchan- dise, and can very hardly believe that they should attach much value to ought which will not lend itself to tlieir coarse handling. In their judgment, mental ability, or the
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 167
graces of moral character, or single-hearted devotion to lofty ends, are not worthy to be compared with a full purse or large possessions. They regard as little better than a fool, of whom it is very kind of them to take a little care, a man who has tlirown away what they call "his clianccs," in order that lie may study wisdom or do good. Giving perhaps a cheerful and unforced accord to the current moral maxims and popular creed of the time, they permit neither to rule their conduct. If they do not say " Man is no better than a beast," they carry themselves as though he were little better, as though he had no instincts or interests above those of the thrifty ant, or the cunning beaver, or the military locust, or the insatiable leech — although they are both surprised and affronted when one is at the pains to translate their deeds into words. Judged by their deeds, they arc sceptics and materialists, since they have no vital faith in that which is spiritual and unseen. They have found the " life of their hands," and they are content with it. Give them whatever furnishes the senses, and such of the intellectual capacities as hold by sense, and they will cheerfully let all else go. But such a materialism as tliis is far more injurious, far more likely to be fatal, than tliat which reilects and argues and utters itself in wonls. AVitli them the malady has struck inward, and is beyond the reach of cure, save by the most searching and drastic remedies.
168 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
To make AVorship ((/.) But HOW if, likc Colieleth wc follow these men to
Formal and lusincerc : ,i m i i , • ,i ,t ■ , ^ t .-i
the iemple, what is the scene that meets our eye ? In the Chap, v., vv. 1—7. English Temple, I fear, that which would first strike an unaccustomed observer would be the fact, that very few men of business are there. They are "conspicuous by their absence," or, at lowest, noted for an only occasional attendance. The Hebrew Temple was crowded with men — the women being relegated to some obscure nook : in the English Temple it is the other sex which predominates. But glance at the men who are there. Do you see no signs of weariness and perfunctoriness ? Do you hear no vows which will never be paid, and which they do not intend to pay when they make them ? no prayers which go beyond any candid and honest expression of their desires ? Do you not feel that many of them are making an unwilling sacrifice to the decencies and proprieties instead of worship- ing God and nerving themselves for the difficulties of obedience to the divine law ? Listen : they are saying, " Almighty God, Father of all mercies, we bless Thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life ; but above all for Thine inestimable love in the redemption of our Lord Jesus Christ, for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory." But are these marvellous spiritual benefits " above all " else to them ? Do they care for " the means of grace " as much even as they care for tlie state of the market, or for " the hope of glory " as much as for success in business ? Which is most in their
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 169
tlionghts, in their lives, in their aspirations, for which will they take most pains and make most sacrifices ; — for what they mean by the beautiful phrase " all the blessings of this life," or for that sacred and crowning act of Divine Mercy, " the redemption " by which men are taught to trust the fatherly forgiving love of God ?
What is it that makes their worship formal and insin- cere ? It is the very cause which, as the Preacher tells us, produced the like evil effects among the Jews. They come into the Temple with pre-occupied hearts. Their thoughts are distracted by the cares of life even as they bow in worship. I do not know that I can better illustrate this point than by reminding you of an etching which appeared some years since, when the Sunday morning delivery of letters was first stopped in Loudon. The scene was a church during morning service ; in one of the pews stood a man, the prayer-book slipping from his relaxed grasp, as with clouded wistful face, he said witliin himself, " Now I wonder whether Messrs. So-and-So protested that bill after all ! "* Who that saw it will ever forget the intense yet ludicrous misery of the man's face, the air of anxious pre-occupation in his whole attitude, which detached him from the worshippers around him as obviously as if he had been fenced round with brass ? The whole business- world
* Thouf^h the iiriut haufrs cleiuly iu uiy mciuoi\', I uiii ul'ruid 1 cunuDl truarantcc the accuracy of this citutiou.
170 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
of England sniggered over tliat marvellous print, not, let us hope, without some saving twinges of conscience. For it was true of so many, that almost every man felt that it came home to his experience ; but true of so many that it was all the harder to appropriate its rebuke. And are there not thousands and tens of thousands in the great English Temple whose hearts are distracted by similar anxieties from the solemnities of worship ? thousands and tens of thousands on whose lips the most sacred words are mere " idle talk," as remote from the true feeling of the moment as the " multitude of dreams " and vanities which haunt the night ? who utter fervent prayers without any true sense of their meaning, or any hearty wish to have them granted, and to whom the whole order of service is but a round of forms to which they pay a customary and heartless deference ? And to take from Life i^^.) ISTow surely a life SO tliick with perils, so beset with
its Quiet and Innocent ■^ , ^ ■ iiti i i ,•
Enjoyments. ^^^^ tendencies, should have a very large and certain
reward to offer. But has it ? For one, Coheleth thinks it *^" ■' ^' ~ ■ has not. In his judgment, according to his experience, instead of making a man happier even in this present time, to which it limits his thoughts and aims, it robs him of all quiet and happy enjoyment of his life. And mark, it is not the unsuccessful man of business who might naturally feel sore and aggiieved, but the successful man of business, the man who has made a fortune and prospered in his schemes, whom the Preacher describes as having lost all
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 171
faculty of enjoying his frains. Even the man who has wealth and abundance so that his soul lackcth nothing of all he desireth, is placed before us as the slave of unsatisfied desire and constant apprehension. Both his hands are so full of labour that he cannot lay hold on quiet. Though he loves silver so well and has so much of it, he is not satisfied therewith; his riches yield him no certain and abitling delight. And how can he be in " happy pliglit " who is —
Debarr'd the benefit of rest ? "VNTien day's oppression is not eased by nij^ht, Bnt day by nigbt, and night by day, oppress'd ? And each, tliough enemies to eithcr's reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture him.
The sound sleep of humble contented labour is denied him. He is haunted by perpetual apprehensions that some of liis enterprises will prove unlucky, that "there is some ill a-brewing toward his rest," that evil in some sliape will be- fall him. He doubts "the filching age will steal his treasure." He knows that when he is called hence, he can caiTy away nothing m his hand ; all his gains must be left to his heir, who may either turn out a wanton fool or be crushed and degraded by the burden and temptations of a wealth for which he has not laboured. And hence, amid all his toils and gains, even the most succcsslul and jjros- perous man suspects that he has been " labouring for the
172 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
wind " and may reap tlio whirlwind : he " is much per- tui-bed and hath vexation and grief."
Is the picture overdrawn ? Is not the description as true to our modern experience as to that of " the antique world " ? Shakespeare, who is our great English authority as to the facts of human experience, thought it quite as true. His Merchant of Venice has argosies on every sea ; and two of his friends, hearing him confess that sadness makes such a want-wit of him that he has much ado to know himself, tell him that his " mind is tossing on the ocean " with his ships. They proceed to discuss the natural effects of having so many enterprises on hand. One says —
Believe mo, Sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my alfcctions would Be with my hopes abroad . I should bo still Plucking the grass, to know whcro sits the wind ; Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; And every object that might make mo fear Misfortune to my ventiu'es, out of doubt Would make me sad.
And the other adds —
My wind, cooling my broth, Would blow me to an ague, when I thought What harm a wind too great at sea might do. I should not seo the sandy hour-glass run, But 1 shoukl think of aliallows and of Hats, And see my wealthy Andicw douk'd in sand
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 173
Vailing lior high-top lower tliaii her ribs
To kiss her burial. Should I go to chiu'ch
And .SCO the holy eclifico of stone,
^Vnd not bethink nio straight of dangerous rocks,
Which touching but my gcntlo vossol's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream ;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
And, in a word, but oven now worth this.
And now worth nothing ? Shall I havo the thought
To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing bechanced would make mo sad ?
" Abundance suffereth not the rich to sleep ; " the thought that his " riches may perish in some unhicky enterprise " sounds a perpetual alarum in his ears : " all his days he eateth in darkness, and is much perturbed, and hath vexation and grief." These are the words of the Hebrew Preacher : are not our own great poet's words an expressive commentary on them, an absolute confirmation of them, covering them point by point ? And shall we envy tlie wealthy merchant or manufacturer whose two hands arc thus " full of labour and vexation of spirit " ? Is not " the husbandman whose sleep is sweet, whether he eat little or much," better off than he ? Nay, has not even the sluggard who, so long as he has meat to eat, foldeth his hands in quiet, a truer enjoyment of his life ?
Of course Coheleth does not mean to imply that every man of business degenerates into a miserly sceptic, wliose worship is a formulated hypocrisy and whose life is vexed
174 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
with the saddening apprehensions of misfortune. No doubt there were then, as there are now, many men of business who were wise enough to " take pleasure in all their labours/' to cast their burden of care on Him in whose care stand both to-morrow and to-day ; men to whom worship was a holy strengthening communion with the Father of their spirits, and who advanced through toil to worthy or even noble ends. He means simply that these are the perils to which all men of business are exposed, perils into which they fall so soon as their devotion to business grows excessive. " Make business and success in business your chief good, your ruling aim, and you will come to think of your neighbours as selfish rivals ; you will engender an appetite for gain which can never be sated ; you will begin to look askance on all the lofty spiritual qualities which refuse to bow to the yoke of Mammon ; your worship will degenerate into an organized hypocrisy ; your life will be all vexed and saddened with fears which will strangle the very faculty of tranquil en- joyment:" this is the warning of the Preacher; a warning of which our generation, in such urgent sinful haste to be rich, stands in very special need.
2. But what checks, what correctives, what remedies would the Preacher have us apply to the diseased tenden- cies of the time ? How shall men of business save them- selves from that excessive devotion to its affairs which breeds so many portentous evils ?
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 175
(a) Well, the very sense of the danger to which tlioy Tho Cnrrwtivps of this are exposed — a danger so insidious, so profound, so fatal |'ev.)ti<.n.iioa. ennoo
^ '^ ^ its renls;
— shouhl surely induce caution and a wary self-control.
The symptoms of the disease are described that we may ^^"P- ^ •• "'"■ ^'^~^'^-
judge whether or not we are infected by it ; its dreadful
issues, that, if infected, we may study a cure. The man
who loves riches is placed before us that we may learn
what he is really like — that he is not the careless happy
being we so often suppose him to be. We see him decline
on the low base levels of covetousness and materialism,
hypocrisy and perpetual apprehension ; and, as we look,
the Preacher turns upon us with, "There, that is the
slave of ^Mammon in his habit as he lives. Do you care
to be like that ? Will you break your heart unless you
are allowed to assume his heavy and degrading burden ? "
This is one help to a wise content with our lot : but And the Con%iption
,1 1, • Till tlia,t it is opp<jsfHl to
lie has many more very much at our service ; and notably ^j^^ -^yj,j ^^J ^^^j ^^
this, — that an undue devotion to the toils of business is expressed in the Or-
contrary to the will, the design, the providence of God. p°'^J||i'^Q^ '"
God, he argues, has fixed a time for every undertaking
under heaven, and made all labours and undertakings ^^^^' ^^^' ^'^' ^~^'
beautiful each in its own time, but only then. By His wise
kindly ordinances He has sought to divert us from an
injurious excess in toil. Our sowing and our reaping, our
time of rest and our time for work, the time to save and
the time to spend, the time to seek and the time to lose, —
all these, with all the fluctuations of feeling they excite
176 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
ill us ; in short, our wliole life, from tlic cradle to the grave, is under, or should be under, law to Him. It is only when we violate His gracious ordinances, — working when we should be at rest, waking when we should sleep, saving when we should spend, weeping over losses which are real gains, or laughing over gains which will prove to be losses, — that we run into excess and break up the peace- ful order and tranquil flow of the life which He designed for us. In the "Wrongs whicii Becausc we wiU not be obsequious to the ordinances of
II(! permits Mm to -,^. . - , . i n • i
iniiict uiK.n us ; ^^^^ wisdom, He permits us to meet a new check in the
caprice and injustice of man — making even these to praise
Chaii iv'vv 1—3 Him by subserving our good. If we do not suffer the violent oppressions which drew " tears " from the Preacher's fellow-captives, we nevertheless stand very much at the mercy of our neighbours in so far as our outward haps are concerned. Unwise human laws or an unjust administra- tion of them, or the selfish rapacity of individual men — brokers who rig the market ; bankers whose long prayers are a pretence under cloak of which they rob widows and orphans, and sometimes make them ; bankrupts for whose wounds the Gazette has a singular power of healing, since they come out of it sounder and wealthier men than they went in : these are only some of the instruments by which the labours of the diligent are robbed of their due reward. And we are to take these checks as correctives, to find in the very losses which men inflict the gifts of a gracious
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 177
God. He permits us to suffer these and the like disasters lest our hearts should be overmuch set on getting gain. He graciously permits us to suffer them that, seeing how the wicked often thrive on the decay of the upright, we may learn that there is something better than wealth, more enduring, more satisfying, and may seek that higher good.
Nav coins to the very root of the matter and expound- i^^t, above all, in tho
J > ^ o -' 1 i.1, 1. "imortal Cravings
ing its whole philosophy, the Preacher teaches us that ^j^j^h pj^, ^^ wealth, however great and greatly used, cannot satisfy men : quickened in the Soui. since God has "'put eternity into their hearts" as well as chap. iii., v. ii. time ; and how should all the kingdoms of a world that must soon pass content those who are to live for ever ?* We may well call this world, for all so solid as it looks, " a perishing world ; " for, like our own bodies, it is in a per- petual flux, perishing every moment that it may live a little longer, and must soon come to an end. But we, in our true selves, we who dwell inside the body and use its members as the workman uses his tools, how can we find a satisfying good, whether in the body or in the world which is akin to it and supplies it ? We want a good as lasting
* M. de Lammcnais — the founder of the most religious school of thinkers in modem France, from whom men such as Count Montalembert, Pfere Lacordairo, and Maurice de Gu6rin drew their earliest inspiration — asks, " Do you know what it is makes ni;in the most suffering of all creatures ?" and replies : " It is that he ha.s one foot in the finite and the other in the infinilo, and that he is torn asunder, not by four horses, as in the homble old times, but between two worlds."
12
178 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
as ourselves. Nothing sliort of that can be our chief good, or inspire us with a true content.
Liko as the -waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end ; Each changing place with that which goes before. In sequent toil all foi-wards do contend :
and we might as well think to build a stable habitation on the waves which break upon the pebbled shore, as to find an enduring good in the sequent minutes which carry us down the stream of time. It is only because we " do not understand " this " work of God " in putting eternity into our hearts ; because, plunged in the flesh and its cares or delights, we forget the grandeur of our nature, and are tempted to sell our immortal birthright for a mess of pottage which, however much we enjoy it to-day, will leave us hungry to-morrow : it is only, I say, because we are very far from understanding this work of God " from beginning to end," that we ever delude ourselves with the hope of finding in aught the earth yields a good in which we can rest. Practical Maxims (b.) A noble pliilosophy this, and pregnant with practical
deduced from thisView ^^^^^^^^ ^f (. ^^luc ! For if, as WO closc our study of
this Section of the Book, we ask, " What good advice does the Preacher offer that we can take and act upon ? " we shall find that he gives us at least three serviceable maxims.
of the Business-life.
IN DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 179
To all men of business conscious of their special dangers a Maxim on and anxious to avoid them, he says, first : Eeplace the ^'"-•^i'*'"'''"'"- competition "which springs from your jealous rivalry with chap. iv., w. 9-IG. the co-operation which is born of sympathy and ])reeds good will. " Two are better than one. Union is better than isolation. Conjoint labour has the greater reward." Instead of seeking to take advantage of your neighbours, try to help them. Instead of standing alone, associate with your fellows. Instead of aiming at selfish ends, pursue your ends in common. Indeed the wise Hebrew Preacher anticipates the Gospel to a quite remarkable degree, and in effect bids us love our neighbour as ourself, look on his things as well as on our own, and do to all nipn as we would that they should do to us.
His second maxim is : Eeplace the formality of your a -Maxm on Worship worship with a reverent and steadfast sincerity. Keep „, .
your foot when you go to the House of God. Put obedi- ence before sacrifice. Do not hurry on your mouth to the utterance of words which transcend the desires of your hearts. Do not come into the Temple with a pre-occupied spirit, a spirit distracted with thoughts that travel diflerent ways. Eealize the presence of the Great King, and speak to him with the reverence due to a king. Keep the vows you make in His house after you have left it. Seek and serve Him with all your hearts, and ye shall find rest to your souls.
12*
180 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD.
A Maxim on Trust in Aucl liis last maxiui is : Replace your grasping self-suffi- ciency with a constant holy trust in the fatherly providence
chiAp. v., %-v. 8— 17. of God. If you see oppression or suffer wrong, if your schemes are thwarted and your enterprises fail, you need not therefore lose the quiet repose and settled peace which come from a sense of duty done and the undisturbed pos- session of the main good of life. God is over all, and rules all the undertakings of men, giving each its due time and place, and causing all to work together for the good of the loving trustful heart. Trust in Him, and you shall feel, even though you cannot prove,
That every cloud that spreads above, And veileth love, itself is love.
Trust in Him, and you shall find that —
The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill And all good things from evil,
as they strike on the great horologe of Time, are set to a growing music by the hand of God ; a music which rises and falls as we listen, but which nevertheless swells through all its saddest cadences and dying falls toward that jubilant harmonious close in which all discords will be drowned.
TIIIED SECTION.
Tlic Quest of tJie Chief Good in Wealth, and in tJic Golden Mean.
Chap. VI., VII,, and VIIL, m. 1—15.
IN the foregoing Section Cohcleth has shown that the Chief Good is not to be found in that excessive Devotion to the affairs of Business which was, and still is, characteristic of the Hebrew race. This devotion is commonly inspired either by the desire to amass great wealth, for the sake of the status, influence, and means of lavish enjoyment it is supposed to confer ; or by the desire to secure a competence, to stand in that golden mean of comfort which is darkened by no harassing fears of future penury or need. By a logical sequence of thought, there- fore, the Preacher advances from his discussion of Devotion to Business, to consider the leading motives by which it is inspired. The questions he now asks and answers are, in effect, (1) Will wealth confer the good, the tranquil satis- faction, which all men seek ? And if not, (2) Will that moderate provision for the present and the future to which the more prudent restrict their aim ?
1S2 THE QUEST
T/ie Quest in Wealth. His (liscussion of tliG fii'st of thesG questions, although Chap. VI. very matterful, is comparatively brief : in part, perhaps,
because in the previous Section he has already dwelt on many of the drawbacks which accompany wealth ; and still more, probably, because, while there are but few men in any age to whom great wealth is possible, there would be unusually few in the company of exiles and captives for whose instruction he wrote. Brief and simple as the dis- cussion is, however, we shall misunderstand it imless we remember that Coheleth is arguing, not against wealth, but against mistaking wealth for the Chief Good,
Indeed, the popular misconception of the whole Book of Ecclesiastes arises from the fact that its true aim is so often overlooked or forgotten. To many minds it appears one of the most melancholy books in the Sacred Canon ; whereas it is really one of the most consolatory and cheerful. No doubt there is a tone of sadness in it, for it has to deal with some of the saddest facts of human life — with the errors which divert men from the true aim and the true good, and plunge them into a various and growing misery- But the voice which takes this saddened tone is the voice of a most brave and cheerful spirit — a spirit whose counsels can only depress us if we are seeking our chief good where we cannot find it. For the Preacher — as we have constant occasion to remember — docs not condenm Wisdom or Mirth, Business or Wealth or Competence, as in themselves vanities. He approves of them ; he shows us how we may so pursue.
IN WEALTH. 183
and so use, them as to find them very pleasant and hcliiful to us ; how we may so dispense with them, if they lie heyond our reach, as none the less to enjoy a very true and al)iding content. His constant recurring moral is, that we arc to enjoy our brief day, that God meant us to enjoy it ; that we are to be up and doing with a heart for any strife or labour or pleasure, not to sit still and weep over broken illusions and defeated hopes. Our aims, our possessions — Wealth, Labour, Mirth, Wisdom — become vanities to us and vex our spirits only when we seek in them that supreme satisfaction which He, who has put eternity into our hearts, designed us to find only in Him. If we love Him and serve Him ; if we acknowledge Him to be the Author of all our good gifts ; if we seek first His kingdom and righteousness, this Book should have no sadness for us. We should find in it a confirmation of our most intimate convictions, and incentives to act upon them. But if we do not hold our wisdom, our pleasure, our traffic, our wealth, as His gifts and ordinances ; if we permit them to usurp His seat and become as gods to us, then this Book will be sad enough for us, but no whit sadder than our lives. It will be sad, and will make us sad ; yet only that it may lead us to repentance, and through repentance to a true and lasting joy. It is because this brave bright Book has been so generally misconceived that I have thought it well to inter- rupt my E.xposition with these explanatory and corrective words.
184 THE QUEST Chap. VI. v. 1, to
The Man who makes I. But HOW, to retum to it. Let US obscrvG that tlirougli- ishaimfedb' Fears and ^^^ ^^^^^ Sixtli Chapter the Preacher is speaking of the Perplexities : Lovcr of Pdches, not simply of the liich Man ; not against
Chap. VI., ^"^^ 1—6. Wealth, but agaiust mistaking Wealth for the Chief Good. The man who trusts in riches is placed before us, and that we may see him at his best, he has the riches in which he trusts. God has given him his " good things," given him them to the fidl. He lacks nothing that he desireth — nothing at least that wealth can command. Yet, because he does not accept his abundance as the gift of God, and hold the Giver better than His gift, he cannot enjoy it. But how do we know that he has suffered his riches to take an undue place in his regard ? We know it by this sure token — that he cannot leave God to take care of them and of him. He frets about them and about what will become of them when he is gone. He has no son, per- chance, to inherit them, only some " stranger " whom he has adopted (v. 2) — and almost all childless Orientals adopt strangers to this day, as we find to our cost in India. This horror at the thought of being dead to name and fame and use through lack of heirs, was and is very prevalent in the East. Even Abraham, the father of the faithful, when God had promised him the supreme good, broke out with the cry, " What can'st Thou give me when I am going ofi" childless, and have no heir but my body-servant Elieser of Damascus ? " Because this feeling lay close to the Oriental heart, the Preacher is at some pains to show what a
Chap. VI. v. 7. IN WEALTH. 185
" vanity " it is. lie argues : ' Even if you should bcj^ct a hunilreil children instead of being childless ; even though you should live twice a thousand years, and the grave did not wait for you instead of lying close before you ; yet, so long as you were not content to leave your riches in the hand of God, you would fret and perplex yourself with fears. An abortion would be better off than you, although it Cometh in nothingness and goeth in darkness, for it would know a rest denied to you, and sink without appre- hension into " the place " from which all your apprehen- sions cannot save you (vv. 3 — 6). Foolish man ! it is not because you lack an heir that you are perturbed in spirit. If you had one, you would find some other cause for anxious care, you would none the less be vexed with appre- hensions ; for you would still be thinking of your riches rather than of the God who gave them, and still dread the moment in which you must part with them instead of calmly referring them to His wise disposal."
From this plain practical argument Coheleth passes to For God Las imt Ktor- an argument of more philosophic reach. " All the labour *" ^ '" "^ " ^'^^ ' of this man is for his mmith ; " that is to say, his wealth, ^'^"P- ^'^•' ^■^■- 7— lo. with all that it commands, appeals to sense and appetite ; it feeds " the lust of the eye, or the lust of the llesh, or the pride of life," and therefore " his soul cannot be satisfied therewith" (v. 7). That craves a higher nutriment, a more enduring good. God has put eternity into it ; and how can that which is immortal be contented with tlic lucky
186 THE QUEST Chap. VI. v. 7, to
liaps and comfortable conditions of time? Unless some immortal provision be made for the immortal spirit, it will pine, and protest, and crave till all power of happily enjoy- ing outward good be lost. Nay, if the spirit in man be craving and unfed, whatever his outward conditions or his faculty for enjoying them, he cannot be at rest. The wise man may be able to extract from the gains of time a plea- sure denied to the fool; and the poor man, his penury preventing him from indulging passion and appetite to satiety, may have a keener enjoyment of them than the magnate who has tried them to the full and grown w^eary of them. In a certain sense, as compared the one with the other, the poor man may thus have an " advantage" over the magnate and the wise man over the fool ; for " it is better to enjoy the good we have than to crave a good beyond our reach ;" and this much the poor man or the wise man may achieve. Yet, after all, what advantage have they? The thirst of the soul is still unslaked ; no sensual or sensuous enjoyment can satisfy that. All human action and enjoy- ment is under law to God. No one is so wise or so strong as to contend successfully against Him or His ordinances. And it is He who has given men an immortal nature with cravings that wander through eternity ; it is He who has ordained that they shall know no rest until they rest in
And much that he ^ '
jraiiis only feeda Look oucc morc at your means and possessions. Mul-
Vanity :
Chap. VI., V. 11. tiply them as you will ; yet there are many reasons wh\',
CiiAi-. VI. V. 1'2. IN WEALTH. 187
if you seek your chief good in them, they should prove vanity and breed vexation of spirit. One is, that beyond a certain point you cannot use or enjoy them. They add to your pomp. They enable you to fill a larger place in the world's eye. They swell and magnify the vain show in which you walk. But, after all, they add to your discomfort rather than your comfort. You have so much tlie more to manage, and look after, and take care of : but you yourself, instead of being better off than you were, have only taken a heavier task on your hands. And what advantage is there in that ?
Another reason is, that it is hard, so hard as to be impos- Neither ran be t«u sible, for you to know " what it is good" for you to have. J'j^ ^^ JJ^^^,^ '^ That on which you have set yoiu' heart may prove to be Chap. VI., v. 12. an evil rather than a good when at last you get it. The fair fruit, so pleasant and desirable to the eye, that to possess it you were content to labour and deny yourself through years, may turn to an apple of Sodom in your mouth, and yield you, in place of sweet pulp and juice, only the bitter ashes of disappointment.
And a third reason is, that the more you acquire the ^"or foresee what will
, ,. 01 11 1 r bccouic of his Gains.
more you must dispose oi when you are called away from
this life : and who can tell what shall be after him ? How ^'^-'P- ^ ^- ^'- ^''-'■
are you so to dispose of your gains as tliat they sliall do
good and not harm, as that they shall carry comfort to the
hearts of those whom you love, and not breed envy,
alienation, and strife ?
183 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
These are the Preacher's arguments against an undue love of riches, against making them so dear a good that we can neither enjoy them while we have them, nor trust them to the disposal of God when we must leave them behind us. Are they not soimd arguments? Should we be saddened by them, or comforted ? We can only be saddened by them if we love "Wealth, or long for it, with an inordinate desire. If we can trust in God to give us all that it will be really good for us to have, the arguments of the Preacher are full of comfort and hope for us, whether we be rich or whether we be poor.
The Quest in the There be many that say, "Who wiU show us any gold ?"
mistaking gold for their god or good. For though there
Chaps. VII. & VIII., ^^^ i^g 1^^^ fg^ jj^ g^j^y g^gg ^Q whom great wealth is pos- sible, there are many who crave it and believe that to have it is to possess the supreme felicity. It is not only the rich who " trust in riches." As a rule, perhaps, they trust in them less than the poor, since they have tried them and know pretty exactly both how much, and how little, they can do. It is those who have not tried them, and to whom poverty brings many undeniable hardships, who are most sorely tempted to trust in them as the sovereign remedy for the ills of life. So that the counsels of the Sixth Chapter may have a wider scope than we sometimes think they have. But whether they apply to few or many, there can be no doubt that the counsels of the Seventh and
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 189
Eighth Chapters are api)licable to a large majority of men. For here the I'reaclier discusses the Golden Mean in wliicli most of us would like to stand. Many of us dare not ask for great wealth lest it should prove a burden we could very hardly bear : but we have no scruple in adopting the prayer of Agur, " Give me neither poverty nor riches ; Feed me with food proportioned to my need ; Let me have a comfortable competence in which I shall be at an equal remove from the temptations of extreme wealth or of extreme penury." Now the endeavour to secure a compe- tence may be, not lawful only, but most laudable ; since God means us to make the best of the capacities He has given us and the opportunities He sends us. Nevertheless, we may pursue this right end from a wrong motive, in a wrong spirit. Both spirit and motive are wrong if we pursue our competence as though it were a good so great that we can know no happy content and rest unless we attain it. For what is it that animates such a pursuit, save distrust in the Providence of God ? Left in his hands, we do not feel that we should be safe ; whereas if we had our fortune in our own hands, and were secured against chances and changes by a comfortable investment or two, we should feel safe enough. This feeling is, as you know, very general : we are all of us in danger of slipping into this form of unquiet distrust in the fatherly Providence of God.
Chap. VII., vv. 1—14.
100 THE QUEST Chap. VII. v. 1, to
The Method of the BecaiisG the feeling is both general and strong, the
ftltin who soolc3 n
Competciico. Hebrew Preacher addresses himself to it at some length.
His object now is to place before us a man who does not aim at great affluence, but, guided by prudence and com- mon sense, makes it his ruling aim to stand well with his neighbours and to lay by a moderate provision for future wants. The Preacher opens the discussion by stating the maxims or rules of conduct by which such a man would be apt to guide himself. One of his first aims would be to secure " a good name," since that would prepossess men in his favour, and open before him many avenues which would otherwise be closed.* Just as one entering a crowded Oriental room with some choice fragrance exhaling from person and apparel would find bright faces turned towards him and a ready way opened for his approach, so the bearer of a good name would find many willing to meet him, and traffic with him, and trust him. As the years passed, his good name, if he kept it, would diffuse itself over a wider area with a more intense effect, so that the day of his death would be better than the day of his birth — to leave a good name being so much more honourable than to inherit one (chap. vii. v. 1). But how would he go about to acquire his good name ? Again the answer carries us back to the East. Nothing is more striking to a
* " There are throe crowns ; of the law, the priesthood, and the kingship : but the crown of a good name is greater than them all." — The Talmud.
Chap. VII. v. 14. IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 191
Western traveller than the serene dignified gravity of the superior Oriental races. In public they rarely smile, almost never laugh, and hardly ever express surprise. Cool, courteous, self-possessed, they bear good news or bad, prosperous or adverse fortune, with a proud equanimity. This equal mind, expressing itself in a grave dignified bearing, is with them well nigh indispensable to success in public life. And therefore our friend in quest of a good name betakes himself to the house of mourning ratlier than to the house of feasting ; he holds that serious thought on the end of all men is better than the wanton foolish mirth which crackles like thorns under a kettle — making a great sputter but soon going out; and would rather have his heart bettered by the reproof of the wise than listen to the song of fools over the wine-cup (vv. 2 — G.) Knowing that he cannot be much with fools without sharing their folly, fearing that they may lead him into those excesses in which the wisest mind is infatuated and the gentlest heart corrupted (v, 7), he elects rather to walk with a sad countenance, among the wise, to the house of mourning and meditation, than to huriy with fools to the banquet in which wine and song and laughter drown serious reflec- tion and leave the heart worse than they found it. What though the wise reprove him when he errs ? What thougli, as he listens to tlieir reproof, his lieart at times grow hot within him ? The end of their reproof is better than the beginning (v. 8) ; as
192 THE QUEST Chap. VII. v. 1, to
he reflects upon it, he learns from it, profits by it, and by patient endurance of it wins a good from it which haughty resentment would have cast away. Unlike the fools, therefore, whose wanton mirth turns into bitter anger at the mere sound of reproof, he will not suffer his spirit to be hurried into a hot resentment, but will compel that which injures them to do him good (v. 9). Nor will he rail even at the fools who fleet the passing hour, or account that because they are so many or so bold, " the time is out of joint." He will show himself not only wiser than the foolish, but wiser than the wise : for while they — and here surely the Preacher hits the habit of most reflective men — laud the time when they were young, and ask, " How was it that former days were better than these ?" he will conclude that the question springs rather from their queru- lousness than their wisdom, and make the best of the time and of the conditions of the time in which it has pleased God to place him (v. 10).
But if any ask, " VVliy has he renounced the pursuit of that wealth on which so many are bent who are less capable of using it than he?" the answer comes that he has discovered Wisdom to be as good as "Wealth, and even better. Not only is Wisdom as secure a defence against the ills of life as Wealth, but it has this great advantage — that "it fortifies the heart," while wealth often lays a burden on tlie spirit which galls and frets it. Wisdom braces the spirit for any fortune, inspires an inward
Chap. VII. v. U. IN TIIF. (iOLDEN MEAN. 193
serenity which does not lie^at tlic nvercy of outwanl accidents (vv. 11, 12). It teaches a man to regard all the conditions of life as ordained and sliaped by God, and weans him from tlic vain endeavour, on whicli many exliaust their strength, to straighten that wliicli Goil has made crooked (v. 13) : once let him sec that the thing is crooked, that God meant it to be crooked, and he will accept and adapt himself to it instead of wearying himself with futile attempts to make it or to think it straight. And there is one very good reason why God should permit many crooks in our lot, very good reason therefore why a wise man should carry an equal mind through life. For God sends the crooked as well as the straight, adversity as well as prosperity, in order that we should know that He has " made this as well as that ;" that we receive both from His benign hand. He interlaces His providences and veils His providences in order that, unable to foresee the future, we may learn to put our trust in Him rather than in any earthly good (v. 14). It therefore behoves a man whose heart has been bettered by much meditation and by the reproofs of the wise, to take both crooked and straiglit,both evil and good, from the hand of God, and to trust in Him whatever may befal.
So far, I think, we shall foUow and assent to this theory The Perils to which it of human life ; our sympathies will go with the man who exposes him. seeks to acquire a good name, to grow wise, to stand in the chnp. vii., v. i-5, to Golden IMean. But when he proceeds to apply his theory, ^'"''P' ^"^•' ''• ^^'
13
194 THE QUEST Chap. VII. \. 15, to
to deduce practical rules from it, we can only give him a qualified assent, nay, must often altogether withhold our assent. The main conclusion he draws is, indeed, quite unobjectionable : it is, that in action, as well as in opinion, we should avoid excess, that we should keep the happy medium between intemperance and indiiference. He is likely to com- But the vciy first moral he infers from this conclusion
promise Conscience : -g ^^^^^ ^^ ^|^g ^^^^ ggj.-Q^g objection. Hb haS Seen both
Chup. VII.. vv. 15—20. the righteous die in his righteousness without receiving any reward from it, and the wicked live long in his wickedness to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. And from these two mysterious facts he infers, that a prudent man will neither be very righteous, since he will gain nothing by that, but will lose the friendship of those who are content with the current morality ; nor be very wicked since, though he may lose little by this so long as he lives, he will very surely hasten his death (w. 16, 17). It is the part of prudence to lay hold on both ; to permit a tempe- rate enjoyment of both virtue and vice, carrying neither to excess (v. 18). In this temperance there lies a strength greater than that of an army in a beleagured city ; for no righteous man is wholly righteous (vv. 19, 20) ; to aim at so lofty an ideal will be to attempt " to wind ourselves too high for sinful man below the sky:" we shall only fail if we make the attempt ; we shall be grievously disappointed if we expect other men to succeed wliere we have failed ; we shall lose faith in them and in ourselves we shall suffer
Chap. VII. v. 22. IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 195
many pangs of shame and remorse and defeated hope : and tliercfore it is Letter at once to make up our minds tliat we are, and need he, no Letter than our neighhours ; that wc are not to blame ourselves for customary and occasional slips ; that, if we are but moderate, we may lay one hand on righteousness and the other on wickedness. A most immoral moral, though it is as popular to-day as it ever was.
The second rule which this temperate Monitor infers To be indiffcrcut t« from his general theory is, That we are not to be over- ^''^"^'^r'' = much troubled by what people say about us. Servants are chap.vil. vv.21 22. adduced as an illustration, partly, no doubt, because they are commonly acquainted with their masters' faults, and partly because they do sometimes speak about them. " Let them speak," is his counsel, " and don't be too anxious to know what they say ; you may be sure that they will say of you pretty much what you often say of your neighbours or superiors ; if they depreciate you, you depreciate others, and you can hardly expect a more gene- rous treatment than you give." Now if this moral stood alone, it would be both shrewd and wholesome. But it does not stand alone : and in its connection it means, I fear, that if we take the moderate course presciibed by prudence ; if we are righteous without being very righteous, and wicked without being very wicked, and our neigh- bours should begin to say, " He is hardly so good as he seems," or " I could tell a tale of him an if I would," we are
13*
196 THE QUEST Chap. VII. v. 23, to
not to be greatly moved by " auy such ambigous givings out : " we are not to be overmuch concerned that our neigh- bours have discovered our secret slips, since we have often discovered the like slips in them and know very well that " there is not on earth a righteous man who doeth good and sinneth not." In short, as we are not be too hard on ourselves for an occasional and decorous indulgence in vice, so neither are we to be very much vexed by the censures which neighbours as guilty as ourselves pass on our conduct. Taken in this its connected sense, the moral is as immoral as that which preceded it.
Here, indeed, our prudent Monitor drops a hint that he himself is hardly content with a theory which leads to such results. He has tried this wisdom, but he is not altogether satisfied with it. He desired a higher wisdom — suspecting that there must be a nobler theory of life than this ; but it was too far away for him to reach, too deep for him to fathom. After all his researches, that which was far off remained far off, deep remained deep : he could not find the better wisdom he sought (vv. 23, 24). And so he falls back on the wisdom he had tried, and draws a third moral lesson from it — which lesson, I confess, I find it somewhat difficult to handle. To despise Women : It is said of au English cynio that when any friend con-
fessed himself in trouble and asked his advice, his first question was, "Who is she ?" — taking it for granted that a woman must be at the bottom of the mischief. And the
(•hiip.VII.,VA'.2.5-29.
Chap. VII. v. 28. IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 197
Ilobrew cynic appears to have been very much of his mind. Ho cannot but see tliat the best of men sin sometimes, that even the most temperate are hurried into excesses which their prudence condemns. And when he turns to discover what it is tliat bewitches them, he can find no other sohi- tion of the mystery than — Woman. Sweet and pleasant as she seems, she is " more bitter than death," her heart is a snare, her hands are chains. He whom God loves will escape from her net after brief captivity ; only the fool and the sinner are held fast in it (vv. 25, 2G). Nor is this a hasty conclusion. Our Hebrew cynic has deliberately gone out with the lantern of his wisdom in his hand — surely a dark lantern ! — to search for an honest man and an honest woman. He has been scrupidously careful in his search, " taking things," i.e. indications of character, " one by one ;" but though he has found one honest man in a thousand, he has never been so fortunate as to light on an honest and good woman (vv. 27 28). Was not the fault in the eyes of the seeker rather than in the faces into which he peered ? Perhaps it was. It would be to-day and here ; but was it there and on that far-distant yesterday? The Orientals would still say "No." All through the East, from the hour in which Adam cast the blame of his transgression on Eve to the present hour, men have followed the example of their first father. Even St. Chrysostom, who shouhl have known better, affirms that when the devil took from Job all that he had, he ilid not take his wife, " because he
198 THE QUEST Chaf. VII. v. 29, to
thought she would greatly help him to conquer that saint of God." Mohammed sings in the same key with the Christian Father : he affirms that since the creation of the world there have been only four perfect women, though it a little redeems the cynicism of Ms speech that, of these four perfect women, one was his wife and another his daughter ; for the good easy man may have meant a com- pliment to them rather than an insult to the sex. But if there be any truth in this estimate, if in the East the women were and are worse than the men, it is the men who have made them what they are. liobbed of their natural dignity and use as helpmeets, condemned to be mere toys, trained only to minister to sense, what wonder if they have fallen below their due place and honour? Of all cowardly cynicisms, that surely is the meanest which, denying women any chance of being good, condemns them for being bad. Our Hebrew cynic seems to have had some faint sense of his unfairness ; for he concludes his tirade against the sex with the admission that " God made man upright " — the word " man " here, as in Genesis, standing for the whole race, male and female — and that if all women and nine hundred and ninety- nine men out of every thousand have become bad, it is because they have degTaded themselves and one another by the evil " devices they have sought out " (v. 29). AndtobeindiffDientto The fourth and last rule inferred from this prudent Public Wron^rs. moderate view of life is, That we are to submit with hope-
Chap.VIII.,T^-.l -13. ^
Chap. VIII. v. 9. IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 199
fill resignation to the wrongs which spring from human tyranny and injustice. Unclouded by gusts of passion, tlie wise temperate Oriental carries a " bright countenance " to the king's divan. Though tlic king should rate him with " evil words," he will remember his " oath of fealty," and not rise up in resentment, still less rush out in open revolt. He knows that the word of a king is potent ; that it will be of no use to show a hot mutinous temper ; that by a meek endurance of wrath he may allay it or avert it. He knows, too, that obedience and submission are not likely to provoke insult and contumely ; and that if now and then he is exposed to an undeserved shame, any defence, and especially an angry defence, will bat damage his cause (chap. viii. vv. I — 5). Moreover, a man who keeps himself cool and will not permit anger to blind him may, in the worst event, foresee that a time of retribution will surely come on the king or satrap who is habitually unjust ; that the people will revolt from him and exact heavy penalties for the wrongs they have endured ; that death, " that fell arrest without all bail," will carry him awny. He can see that time of retribution drawing nigh altliough the tyrant, fooled by impunity, is not aware of its approach : he can also see that when it comes it will be as a war in which no furlough is granted and whose disastrous close no craft can evade. All this execution of long- delayed justice he has seen again and again ; and tlierefore he will not suffer his resentment to hurry him into dangerous
200
THE QUEST
Chap. VIII. v. 10, to
The Proachor con- doiiins this Thoory of Human Lifo, and declares the Quest to be still unattiiincJ.
Chap. VI TT.,
YV. 11, 1.).
courses, but will calmly await the action of those social laws which compel every man to reap the due reward of his deeds (vv. 5 — 0).
Nevertheless, he has also seen times in which retribution did not overtake the oppressors ; times even when, in the person of children as wicked and tyrannical as themselves, they " came again " to renew tlieir injustice, and to blot out the very memory of the righteous from the earth (v. 10). And such times have no more disastrous result than this, that they undermine faith and subvert morality. Men see that no immediate sentence is given against the wicked, that they live long in their wickedness and beget children to perpetuate it ; and the very faith of tlie good in the over-ruling providence of God is shaken and strained, while the vast majority of men set themselves to do the evil which flaunts its triiunphs before their eyes (v. 1 1 ). None the less, the Preacher is quite sure that it is the part of wisdom to trust in the laws and look for the judgments of God ; he is quite sure that the triumph of the wicked will soon pass, while that of the good will endure (vv. 12, 13) : and therefore, as a man of prudent forecast- ing spirit, he will submit to injustice, but not inflict it, or at least not carry it to any dangerous excess.
Now tliis is by no means a noble or lofty view of human life ; the line of conduct it prescribes is often, as we have seen, as immoral as it is ignoble : and we may feel some natural surprise at hearing counsels so base from the lips
CiiAr. VIII. V. 1.',. IN TIIK GOLDEN MEAN. 201
of the inspired Hebrew Preacher. But we ought to know liiin and his method of instruction well enough by thi.s time to be very sure that he is at least as sensible of their baseness as we can be ; that he is here speaking to us, not in his own person, but dramatically, and from the lips of tlie man who, that he may secure a good name and a com- fortable position, is disposed to accommodate himself to the current maxims of his time and company. If we ever had any doubt on that point, it is set at rest by the closing verses of this Third Section of the Book. For in these the Preacher lowers his mask and tells us plainly that we can- not and must not rest in the theory he has just expounded, that to follow its counsels will lead us away from the Chief Good, not toward it. More than once he has already hinted to us that this wisdom is not the highest wisdom : and now he avows that he is as unsatisfied as ever, as far as ever from ending his Quest ; that his last key will not unlock the mysteries of life which have perplexed him from the first. He still holds, indeed, that it is better to be righteous than to be wicked ; though he now sees that even the prudently righteous often have a wage like that of the wicked, and that the prudently wicked often have a wage like that of the righteous (v. 14). This new theory of life, therefore, he confesses to be "a vanity " as great and deceptive as any of those he has liitherto tried. And as even yet it does suit his purpose to give us his true theory and announce his final conclusion, he falls back on the
202 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
conclusion we have so often lieard, that the best thing a man can do is to eat and to drink, and to carry a clear enjoying temper through all the days and all the tasks which God giveth him under the sun (v. 15). How this familiar con- clusion fits into his final conclusion, and is part of it, though not the whole, we shall see in our study of the next and last Section of the Book.
II. — If, as poet Milton sings,
To know That wliicli before us lies in daily life Is tlie prime wisdom,
we are surely much indebted to the Hebrew Preacher. He at least does not "sit on a hill apart" discussing fate, freewill, foreknowledge absolute, or any such lofty abstruse themes. He walks with us in the common round, to the daily task, and talks to us of that which lies before us in our daily life. Nor does he speak as one raised high above the folly and weakness by which we are constantly betrayed. He has trodden the very paths we tread. He shares our craving and has pursued our quest after " that which is good." He has been misled by the illusions by which we are beguiled. And his chief aim is to save us from fruitless researches and defeated hopes by placing his experience at our command. He speaks therefore to our real need, and speaks with a cordial sympathy which makes his counsel very welcome.
IN WEALTH. 203
We are so made that we can find no rest until we find a Supreme Good — a good which will satisfy all our faculties, all our passions, all our aspirations. For that we search with an unconquerable ardour; hut our ardour is not always under law to wisdom. We often suppose that we have reached our Chief Good while it is still far off, or that at least we are looking for it in the right direction when in truth we have turned our back upon it. Sometimes we seek for it in wisdom, sometimes in pleasure, sometimes in fervent devotion to secular affairs; sometimes in love, sometimes in wealth, and sometimes in a modest yet com- petent provision for our future wants. And if, when we acquire our special good, we find that our hearts are still craving and restless, still hungering for a larger good, we are apt to tliink that if we had a little more of that which so far has disappointed us — if we were somewhat wiser, or our pleasures were more varied ; if we had a little more love or a larger estate — all would be well with us and we should be at peace. Perhaps in time we get our " little more," but stiU our hearts do not cry " Hold, enough ! " — enough being always a little more than we have ; till at last, weary and disappointed in our quest, we begin to des- pair of ourselves and distrust the kindness of God. " If God be good," we ask, " why has He made us tlius — always seeking yet never finding, urged on by imperious appetites which are never satisfied, impelled by hopes which for ever elude our grasp ? " And because we cannot
201 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
answer the question, we cry out " Vanity of vanities ! all is vanity and vexation of spirit ! " " Ah, no," replies the kindly Preacher who has himself known this despairing distrust and surmounted it : " no, all is not vanity. There is a Chief Good, a satisfying good, although you have not found it yet ; and you have not found it because you have not looked for it in the right direction. Once take the right path and you will find a Good which will make all else good to you, a Good which will lend a new value and a new sweetness to your wisdom and mirth, your labour and your gain." But men are very slow to believe that they have wasted their time and strength, that they have mistaken their path ; they are reluctant to believe that a little more of that of which they have already acquired so much, and which they have always held to be best, will not yield them the satisfaction they seek. And there- fore the wise Preacher, instead of telling us at once where the true Good is to be found, takes much pains to convince us that it is not to be found where we have been wont to seek it. He places before us a man of the largest wisdom, whose pleasures were exquisitely varied and combined, a man whose devotion to affairs was the most perfect and successful, a man of imperial nature and wealth, and whose heart had glow^ed with all the fervours of love : and this man, so rarely gifted and of such ample conditions, confesses that he could not find the Chief Good in any one of the directions in which we commonly seek it, although
IN WEALTH. 205
he had travelled farther in every direction than we can hope to go. If we are of a rational temper, if we are open to argument and persuasion, if we are not resolved to buy our own experience at a heavy, perhaps a ruinous, cost, how can we but accept the wise Hebrew's counsel, and cease to look for the satisfying Good in quarters in which he assures us it is not to be found ?
We have already considered the several stages of his argument as it bore on the men of his time. We have now to mark its application to our own age. As his custom is, the Treacher does not develop his argiunent in open logical sequence; he does not write a moral essay, but paints us a dramatic picture.
1. He depicts a man who trusts in riches, who honestly The Quest in maith. believes that wealth is the Chief Good, or, at lowest, the cintp. vi. way to it. This man has laboured prudently and dex- terously to acquire affluence ; and he has acquired it. Like the rich man of the Parable, he has much goods, and barns that grow fuller as fast as they grow bigger. " God has given him riches and wealth and abundance, so that his soul " — not having learned how to look for anything hi'dier — " lacks nothinfr of all that it desireth." He has reached liis aim, then, acquired what he holds to be good. Can he not be content with it ? No : for though he bids Jj^^^Js'il't-hief^^^d his soul make meiTy and be glad, it obstinately refuses to is ii'«unt.vi i.y Fears obey. It is darkened with perplexities, haunted by vague c'Lup. vi., w. i— g.
206 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
longings, fretted and stung with perpetual care. Now that he has his riches, he goes in dread lest he should lose them; he is unable to decide how he may best employ them, or how to dispose of them when he will liave to leave them. God has given them to him : but he does not admit that they are the gift of God ; or, if he does, he cannot trust God with them, lie has no doubt that God did very wisely in giving them to him ; but he is not at all sure that God will show an equal wisdom in giving them to some one else when he is gone. And so the poor rich man sits steeped in wealth up to his chin — up to his chin, but not up to his lips, for he has no " power to enjoy " it. Burdened with jealous care, he grudges that others should share what he cannot enjoy, grudges above all that, when he is dead, another should possess what has been of so little comfort to him. " If thou art rich," says Shakes- peare,
thou art poor ; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bcarcst thy heavy riches but a journey, Aud Death unloads thee.
But our rich man is not only like an ass ; he is even more stupid than an ass : for the ass would not have his back bent even with golden ingots if he could help it, and is only too thankful when the burden is lifted from his back ; while the rich man not only ivill plod on beneath his heavy load, but in his dread of being unladen at tlie
IN WEALTH. 207
journey's end imposes on himself a burden heavier than all his ingots, and will hear that as well as his gold, lie creeps along beneath his double load, and brays quite pitifully if you so much as put out a hand to ease him.
It is not of much use, perhaps, to argue with one so Much that ho pains
1 1 i. i. ouly feeds Vanitv.
besotted : but lest we should slip into his degraded estate, the Preacher points out for our instruction the sources of "'i'' his disquiet, and shows why it is impossible that he should know content. Among other sources of disquiet he notes three. (1.) That " there are many things which increase vanity : " that is to say, many of the acquisitions of the ricli man only augment his pomp and outward state. Beyond a certain point he cannot possibly enjoy the good things he possesses ; he cannot, for instance, live in all his costly mansions at once, nor eat and drink all the sump- tuous fare daily set on his table, nor carry his whole wardrobe on his back. He is hampered with superfluities which breed care but yield him no comfort. And as he grudges that others shoidd enjoy them, all this abundance, all that goes beyoml his personal gratification, so far from being an " advantage " to him, is only a burden and a torment. (2.) Another source of disquiet is, that no man, iio cannot tell what it not even lie, "can tell what is good for man in life," what -^H^be Good fur him to will be really helpful and pleasant to him. ^Many things ^ ^.^ ^. ^^ which attract desire pall upon the taste. And as " the day of our vain life is brief," gone " like a shadow," he may Hit away before he has had a chance of using much that
208 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
Nor foresee what will he has laboriously acquired. (3.) And a third source of dis-
bccoino of liis Giiins : • i. • L^ i. L^ i i.i i i. i
quiet IS, tliat the more a mau has the more he must leave : ciiup. \ ., \. -. ^^j ^Yio^^ is a fact which cuts him two ways, with a keen
double edge. For the more he has the less he likes leaving it ; and the more he has the more is he puzzled how to leave it. He cannot tell " what shall be after him," and so he makes one will to-day and another to-morrow, and very likely dies intestate after all.
Is not that a true picture, a picture true to life ? Thackeray, our English Ecclesiast, tells us how one of our wealthiest peers once complained to him that he was never so happy and well-served as when he was a bachelor in chambers ; that his splendid mansion was a dreary solitude to him, and the long train of domestics his masters rather than his servants. More than once he depicts the man of immense fortune and estate as so occupied in learning and discharging the heavy duties of property, so tied and hampered by the thought of what was expected of his position, as to fret under a constant weiglit of care and to lose all the sweet uses of life. And have not we ourselves known men who have grown more penurious as they have grown richer, more unable to decide what it would be really good or even pleasant for them to do, more and more anxious as to how they should devise their abundance ? Even as I speak* the Scotch papers are busy with the
* Jauuary, 18G7.
IN WEALTH. 209
story of a millionaire, the close of which is so dramatic as to touch the dullest imagination. This rich man was in the act of signing a cheque for £10,000 when he was struck with the paralysis from which he never recovered ; and the cheque with its unfinished signature was found on liis table after his death. For forty years, it is said, he had not been inside a place of worship, and had had scarcely any friendly intercourse with his kind. His chief pleasure seems to have consisted in adding to a fortune already immense, and to save a sixpence he would wrangle like a scold. Too grasping to enjoy his wealth, he was too shrewd to share the miser's meagre but intense passion. He used to say of himself, " I am a poor rich man, burdened with money ; but I have nothing else." And when compelled to part with his burden, on Ms dying bed, he left more than half a miUion to a hundred persons who had known little or nothing of him while he lived ; and nearly half a million more to the charities of the Church he never entered. He found that "there are many things which increase vanity ; " that he coidd not decide " what it would be good " for him to do and have ; and as he " could not tell what would be after him," he has left large bequests which in aU probability will do as much harm as good. Grocers, masons, day-labourers, fish-liawkers, and the poor relatives whom he remembered only as he died, are now the richer for his death by many thousands ; and, raised from poverty to sudden wcaltb, arc only too likely
14
210 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
to travel in the direction whicli beggars set on horseback commonly take. And bocause God has j^^t the Hebrew Preacher is not content to give ns an
put Etcraity into his . p i tt i ■» r i i • i -i •
Heart he cannot bo accuratc pictnrc 01 the Kich Man and his perplexities — a content >\athToniporai picture as truc to the life now as it was then. He also points out how it is that the lover of riches came to be ^"'"'' ^^" "^'^'" '~"^°" the man he is, and why he can never lay hold on the Supreme Good. " All the labour of this man is for his - mouth," for the senses and for those faculties and affections which hold by sense ; and therefore, however prosperous the issue to which his labours conduct, "yet his soul cannot be satisfied." For the soul is not fed by that which feeds the sense. God has " put eternity " into it. It craves an eternal sustenance. It cannot rest until it gains access to " the living water," and " the meat which endureth," and the good "wine of the kingdom." A beast — if indeed beasts have no souls, which I neither deny nor admit — may be content if only his outward conditions be comfortable ; but a man, simply because lie is a man, must have a happy inward life before he can be content. His thirst and hunger after righteousness must be satisfied. He must know that, when flesh and heart fail him, he will be received into an everlasting habitation. He must have a treasure which the moth cannot corrupt nor the thief filch from him. We cannot escape our nature if we would, any more than we can jump off of our shadow ; and our very nature cries out for an immortal good. Hence it is that the
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 211
rich man who trusts in his riches, and not in the God who gave him riches, carries within him a Imiigry craving soul. Hence it is that all who trust in riches and hold them to be the Chief Good are restless and unsatisfied. For, as the l*reacher reminds us, it is very true both that the rich man may not be a fool, and that the poor man may trust in riches just as heartily as the wealthiest magnate. By virtue of his wisdom, the wise rich man may so vary and combine the good things of this life as to win from them a gratification denied to the sot whose sordid heart is set on gold ; and the poor man, because he has few of the enjoy- ments of wealth, may snatch at the few which come in his way with vivid eager delight. Both may " enjoy the good they have " rather than " crave a good beyond tlieir reach:" but if they mistake that good for the Supreme Good, neither their poverty nor their wisdom will save them from the misery of disappointed hopes. For they too have souls — are souls ; and the soul is not to be satisfied with that wliich goes in at the mouth. Wise or foolish, rich or poor, whosoever trusts in riches is either like the ass whose back is bent with a weight of gold, or he is worse than the ass and longs to take a burden on his back from which only Death can unlade him.
2. But now to come closer home, to draw nearer to that xhe Quest in the prime wisdom which consists in knowing that which <^'^i(i<» Mean. before us lies in daily life, let us glance at the ]\lan who chap. vii. v. i. aims to stand in the Golden Mean : the man who does not ^'^-'J'- ^'^^^- "^^ ^•^■
14*^
212 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
aspire to heap up a great fortune, but to secure a modest Competence. He is more on our own level. For our trust in riches is, for the most part, modified by other trusts. If we believe in Gold, we also believe in Wisdom and in Mirth ; if we labour to provide for the future, we also wish to use and enjoy the present. We think it well that we should know something of the world about us, and take some pleasure in our life. We think that to put money in our purse should not be our only aim, though it should be a leading aim. We admit that " the love of money is a root of all evil " — one of the roots from which all forms and kinds of evil may blossom out : and to save ourselves from falling into that base lust, we limit our desires. We shall be content if we can put by a moderate sum, and we flatter ourselves that we desire even that not for its own sake, but for the means of knowledge or service or innocent enjoyment with which it will furnish us. " Nothing I should like better," says many a man, " than to retire from business so soon as I have enough to live upon and to devote myself to this branch of study or that province of art, or to take my share of public duties or give myself to a cheerful domestic life." It speaks well for our time, I think, that while in the larger cities of tlie Empire there are still many in haste to be rich and very rich, in hundreds of provincial towns there are thousands of men who feel that Wealth is not the Chief Good, and who do not care to wear the livery of Mammon till they
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 213
don the shroud. Nevertheless, though their aim he " most sweet and commendahle," it has perils of its own — im- minent and deadly perils which few of us altogether escape. And these perils are clearly set before us in the sketch of the Hebrew Preacher. As I reproduce that sketch, suffer me, for the sake of brevity, while carefully retaining the antique outlines, to fill in with modern details.
Suppose a yomig man to start in life, then, with this The Muthod ..f iho theory, this plan, this aim distinctly before him : — He is ^^'|" i^.tent-r to be ruled by prudence and plain common sense. He . ^ yjj will try to stand well with the world, and to make a mode- w. i— u. rate provision for future wants. This aim will beget a certain temperance of thought and action. He will permit himself no extravagances — no wandering out of bounds, and perhaps no enthusiasms, for he wants to establish " a good name," a good reputation, which shall go before him like " a sweet perfume " and dispose mens' hearts toward him. And therefore he carries a sober face, frequents the company of older wiser men, is grateful for any hints their experience may furnish, and takes even their reproofs with a good grace. He walks in the beaten paths, knowing the world to be impatient of novelties. The wanton mirtli and crackling laughter of fools in the house of feasting are not for him : for he has set Mrs. Grundy always before his eyes, and his fear of her is very great. He is not to be seduced from the plain prudent course which he has marked out for hinisrlf whether by inward provocation or
214 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
outward allurement. If he is a young lawyer, he will write no poetry, attomies having a horror of literary men. If he is a young doctor. Homoeopathy, Hydropathy, and all new schemes of medicine will disclose their charms to him in vain. If he is a young clergyman, he will he conspicuous for his orthodoxy, and for his emphatic assent to all that the leaders of opinion in the Church think or may think If he is a young merchant or manufacturer, he will be no breeder of costly patents and inventions, but will be among the first to profit by them when they are found to pay. If he is a young mechanic, he will join his Trade-Union, be regular with his subscription and punctual in his observ- ance of its decisions. Whatever he may be, he will not be of those who try to make crooked things strait and rough places plain, and thus to accelerate the progress of man. He wants to get on : and the best way to get on is to keep the beaten path and push forward in that. And he will be patient — not throwing up his game because for a time the chances go against him, but waiting till the times mend and his chances improve. So far as he can, he will keep the middle of the stream, that, when the tide in mens' affairs which leads on to fortune sets in, he may be of the first to take it at the flood and sail easily on to his desired haven.
In all this there may be no conscious insincerity, and very little that deserves censure. For all young men are not wise with the highest wisdom, nor original, nor brave with
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 216
the courage which follows Truth in scorn of consequence. And our young man may not be dowered with the love of loves, the hate of hates, the scorn of scorns. lie may Le of a nature essentially prudent and commonplace, or training and habit may have superinduced a second nature. To him a primrose may be a primrose and nothing more : his instinctive thought as he looks at it may be how he can reproduce its colour in some of his textures or extract a saleable perfume from its nectared cup : he may even think that prinu'oses are a mistake, and that 'tis pity they were not pot-herbs ; or he may think that he shall have plenty of time to gather primroses by-and-bye, but that for the present he must be content to pick pot-herbs for the market. In his way, he may even be a sincerely religious man ; he may admit that both prosperity and adversity are of God, that wo must take patiently whatever He may send ; and he may heartily desire to be on good terms with Him who alone can " order all things as He please."
But here we light on his first grave peril : for he will T'lo Tmis to which it carry his temperance into his religion, and he may subor- dinate even that to his desire to set on. Lookin<f on men ^''^•'^p- ^ ^^•' ^- ^^' ^'^
^ , . Chap. VIII., V. 13.
in their religious aspect, he sees that they are divided into two classes, the righteous and the wicked. As he con- siders them, he concludes that on the wliole the righteous have the best of it, that godliness is real gain. lUit he soon He is likely to com-
1. iii.i.i-r'i 1 1 • iji promise Conscieuce :
discovers that tins lirst rougli conclusion needs to be care- fully guarded. For, as he looks on men more closely, he t.iiai).vii.,vv.i.3-20.
216 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
perceives that at times the righteous die in their righteous- ness without being the better for it, and the wicked live in their wickedness without being the worse for it. He perceives that, while the very wicked die before their time, tlie very righteous, those who are always reaching forth to that which is before and rising to new heights of insight and obedience, are " forsaken ;" that they are left alone in the thinly-peopled solitude to which they have climbed, losing the sympathy even of those who once walked with them. Now, these are facts ; and a prudent sensible man tries to accept facts, and to adjust himself to them, even when they are adverse to his wishes or conclusions. He does not want to be left alone, nor to die before his time. And therefore, taking these new facts into account, he in- fers that it will be best to be good without being very good, and wicked without being very wicked. Nay, he is disposed to believe that " whoso feareth God," studying the facts of His providence and drawing the logical infer- ence from them, " will lay hold of both " wickedness and righteousness, and wiU blend them in that proportion which the Divine Providence seems to favour. But here Con- science protests, urging that evil can never be good. To pacify it, he adduces tlie notorious fact that " there is not a righteous man upon earth who doeth good, and sinneth not." " Conscience," he says, " you really are too strict and strait-laced, too hard upon a poor fellow who wants to do as well as lie can . You go quite too far. How can you
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 217
expect me to be better than great saints and men after God's own heart ? " And so, with a wronged and pious air, lie turns to lay one hand on wickedness and another on righteousness — quite content to be no better than his neighbours and to let Conscience sulk herself into a sweeter mood.
Conscience being silenced. Prudence steps in. And „° °'° ' ^'^^^
o ' » Censure :
Prudence says, " People will talk. They will take note of your slips and tattle about them. Unless you are very " '^' '^^^ ' very careful, you will damage your reputation ; and if you damage that, how can you hope to get on ?" Now as the man is specially devoted to Prudence, and has found her kind mistress and useful monitress in one, he is at first a little staggered to find her taking part against him. But he soon recovers himself and replies, " Dear Prudence, you know as well as I do that people don't like a man to be better than themselves. Of course they will talk if they catch me tripping ; but I do not mean to do more than trip, and a man who trips gains ground in recovering him- self and goes all the faster for a while. Besides we all trip ; some fall even. And I talk of my neighbours just as they talk of me : and we all like each other the better for being birds of one feather."
At this Prudence smiles, and stops her mouth. But To dospiRo mmon : being very willing to assist so quick-witted a disciple, she Chap. vii. w. 20-20. presently returns, and says, " Are not you rather a long while in securing your little Competence ? Is there no
And to bo inilifforcnt to Public Wrongs.
Chap. VIII. ,vv. 1—13.
218 THE QUEST OF THE CHIEF GOOD
short cut to it ? Why not take a wife with a small fortune of her own, or with connections who could help you on?" Now the man not being a bad man, but a man who would fain be good so far as he knows goodness, is somewhat taken aback by such a suggestion as this. He thinks Prudence must be growing very worldly and mercenary. He says within himself, " Surely love should be sacred ! A man should not prostitute that in order that he may get on ! If I marry a woman simply or mainly for her money, what worse degradation can I inflict on her or on myself ? how shall I be better than those old Hebrews and Orientals who held women only as a toy or a convenience ? To do that, would be to make a snare and a net of her — to degrade her from her true place, and possibly to think of her as even worse than I had made her." Nevertheless, his heart being very much set on securing a Competence, and an accident of the sort which he calls "provi- dences" putting a foolish woman with a pocket-full of money in his way, he takes both the counsel of Prudence and a wife to match.
The world, we may be sure, thinks none the worse of him for that. Once more he has proved himself a man whose eye is steadfastly bent on " the main chance " and who knows how to seize occasions as they rise. But he who has thiis profaned the inner sanctuary of his own soul, is not likely to be sensitive to the large claims of public duty. If he sees oppression, if the tyranny of a man or a
IN THE GOLDEN MEAN. 219
class rises to a height which calls for rebukeful opposition, he is not the man to sacrifice comfort and risk property that he may assail iniquity in her strong places. It is not such men as he who, when the times are out of joint, feel that they are born to set them right. Prudence is still his guide, and Prudence says, " Let things alone : they will right themselves in time. The social laws will avenge themselves, heaping retribution on the head of the oppressor and delivering the oppressed. You can do little to hasten their action. AVliy should you risk so much to gain so little ? " And the man is content to sit still with folded hands when every hand that can strike a blow for right is wanted in the strife ; and can even quote texts of Scrip- ture to prove that in " quietness and confidence " in the action of the Divine Laws is the true " strength."
Now I make my appeal to those who daily enter the The Preacher con- world of business: is not this the common tone of that j^Zni -70X^7 "'^ world ? are not these the very perils to which you lie declares tho Quest to open ? How often have you heard men recount the sKps ^^ •'^^'" unattdned. of the righteous in order to justify themselves for not as- Cbap.viii. w. 14, 1.5. suming to be righteous overmuch ! How often have you heard them vindicate their own occasional errors by citing the errors of those who give greater heed to religion than they do ! How often have you heard them congratulate a neighbour on having had the good luck to carry off an heiress, and speak of wedded love itself as a mere help to worldly advancement ! How often have you heard them
220 THE QUEST IN THE GOLDEN MEAN.
sneer at the nonsensical enthusiasm which has led certain men to throw away their chances in life, in order to devote themselves to the service of truth, or to lose popularity that they might lead a forlorn hope against customary wrongs, and thank God that no such maggot ever bit their brains? If, during the last twenty years, since I too " went on 'Change," the general tone has not risen a whole heaven, I know that you must daily hear such things as these, and worse things than these ; and that not from irreligious men of bad character, but from men who take a fair place in our Christian congregations. From the time of tlie Wise Preacher to the present hour, this sort of talk has been going on, and the scheme of life from which it springs has been stoutly held. There is the more need, therefore, for you to study the Preacher's conclusion. Por his conclusion is, that this scheme of life is wholly and irremediably bad, that it tends to make a man a coward and a slave, that it cannot satisfy the large desires of the soul, and that it cheats him of the Chief Good. His con- clusion is, that the man who so sets his heart on gaining even a Competence that he cannot be content without it, has no genuine trust in God, since he is willing to give in to immoral maxims and customs, in order to secure that which he thinks will make him largely independent of the providence of God. The Preacher speaks as to wise men — men of sonic experience of the world. Judge you what he says.
F 0 U E T II SECTION.
The, Quest Achieved. The Chief Good is to he found, not in Wisdom nor in Pleasure, nor in Devotion to Affairs and its Eewnrds ; but in a Wise Use and a luise Enjoy- ment of the Present Life, combined with a Steadfast Faith ill the Life to Come.
Chap. VIII. V. 16, to ChajJ. XIL v. 7.
T last we approach the end of our Quest. The Preacher has found the Chief Good, and will show us where we may find it. But are we even yet prepared to welcome it and lay hold of it ? Apparently he thinks not. For though he has already warned us that it is not to be found in Wealth or Industry, nor in Pleasure or Wisdom, he repeats his warning in this last Section of his Book, as though he still suspected us of hankering after our old errors. Not till he has again assured us that we shall miss our mark if we seek the supreme Good in any of the directions in which it is commonly sought, docs he direct us to the sole path in
222 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. VIII. v. 16, to
which we shall not seek in vain. Once more, there- fore, let us gird up the loins of our minds to follow him along his several lines of thought, encouraged now by the assurance that the end of our journey is not far off. The Chief Good not to I. The Preacher commences this Section by carefully o oim in ij, oiu . dggj^^^j^g }^jg position and equipment as he starts on his last Chap. VIII., V. 16, to (.Q^j.gg_ ^s yet he carries no lamp of Eevelation in his
Chap IX., V. 6. "^ ^ ^
hand, though he will not venture beyond a certain point without it. For the present he will trust to Eeason and Experience, and mark the conclusions to which these conduct when unaided by any direct light from heaven. His first conclusion is, that Wisdom, which of all temporal goods still stands foremost with him, is incapable of yielding a true content. Much as it can do for man, it cannot solve the moral problems which daily task and afflict his heart, the problems which he must solve before he can be at peace. He may be so bent on solving these by Wisdom as to " see no sleep with his eyes by day or night;" he may rely on Wisdom with a confidence so genuine as to suppose at times that by its help he has " found out all the work of God " — really solved all the mysteries of the Divine Providence ; but nevertheless " he has not found it out," the illusion will soon pass, and the unsolved mysteries reappear dark and sombre as of old (chap. viii. vv. IG, 17). And the proof that he has failed is, first, that he is as incompetent to foresee the future as those who are not so wise as he. With all his sagacity, he
Chap. IX. v. 1. NOT IN WISDOM. 223
cannot tell whether he shall meet " the love or the hatred " of his fellows. His lot is as closely hidden in " the hand of God " as theirs, although he may be as much better than they are as he is wiser (chap. ix. v. 1). A second proof is, that " the same fate " overtakes both the wise and the foolish, the righteous and the wicked, and he is as unable to escape it as they are. Both die : and to men ignorant of the heavenly hope of the Gospel, the indiscri- mination of Death seems the most cruel and hopeless of wTongs. The Preacher, indeed, is not ignorant of that bright hope ; but as yet, as I have reminded you, he has not taken the lamp of Kevelation into his hand : he is simply speaking the thought of those who have no higher guide than Eeason, no brighter light than Eeflection. And to these, their wisdom having taught them that to do right is infinitely better than to do wrong, no fact was so monstrous and inscrutable as that their lives should run to the same disastrous close with the lives of evil and violent men, that all alike should come into the power of "that churl Death." As they revolved this fact, their hearts grew hot with a fierce resentment as natural as it was impotent, a resentment all the hotter because tliey felt how impotent it was. Therefore the Preaclier dwells on this fact, lingers over liis description of it, adding touch to touch. " One fate comes to all," he says ; " to the righteous and to the wicked, to the pure and to the impure, to the religious and to the irreligious, to the profane and to the
224 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. IX. v. 2, to
reverent." If death be a good, the maddest fool and the vilest reprobate share it with the sage and the saint. If death be an evil, it is inflicted on the good as well as the bad. None is exempt. Of aU wrongs this is the greatest ; of all problems this is the most insoluble. Nor is there any doubt as to the nature of Death. To him for whom there shines no light of hope beyond the darkness of the grave, death is the supreme evil. For to the living, however deject and wretched, there is still some hope that times may mend : even though in outward condition despicable as that unclean outcast — a dog, the homeless scavenger of Eastern cities, he has some advantage over the royal lion who, once couched on a throne, now lies in the dust rottmg to dust. The living know at least that they must die; but the dead know not anything. The living can recall the past, and their memory harps fondly on notes which once were very sweet to them ; but the very memory of the dead has perished, no music of the happy past can revive on their dulled sense. With their memory, love, hatred, and zeal, " the triad in which all human passions are comprised," have also become extinct. The heavens are fair ; the earth is beautiful and generous ; the works of men are many and diverse and great : but they have " no more any portion for ever in aught that is done under the sun " (vv. 2 — 6).
This is the Preacher's description of the hapless estate of the dead. His words would go straight home to the
Chap. IX. v. 6. NOT IN WISDOM. 225
hearts of the captives for whom he wrote, with a force even beyond that wliich they would have had for heathen races. Til tlicir Captivity, they had renounced the worsliip of idols. They had renewed their covenant with Jeliovah. Many of them were devoutly attached to the ordinances and com- mandments which they and their fathers had neglected in tlio Holy Land. Yet their lives were made bitter to them with cruel bondage, and they had as little hope in their death as tlie very Persians who embittered their lives. It was in this sore strait, and under the strong compulsions of this dreadful extremity, that the more pious and studious of their liabbis, like the Preaclicr himself, drew into an ex- pressive context the passages scattered through their Sacred Books which hinted at a retributive life beyond the tomb, and settled into that strong conviction of the immor- tality of the soul which, as a ride, they never henceforth altogether let go. But when the Preacher -wTote, this settled and general conviction had not been reached. There were many among them who, as tlieir thoughts circled round the mystery of death, could only cry, " Is this the end ? is tliis the end ? " To the great majority of them, ignorant, and brutalized by the severities of bondage, it seemed the end. And even the few learned, who sought an answer to the question by blending the Greek and Oriental with the Hebrew Wisdom, attained no clear answer to it. To mere human wisdom. Life remained a mystery, and Death a mystery still more cruel and in-
15
226 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. IX. v. 7, to
scrutable. Only those who listened to the Preachers and Prophets whom God taught beheld the dawn which already began to glimmer on the darkness in which men sat. Nor in Pleasure : Now suppose a reflective Jew brought to the bitter pass
Chap. IX., vv. 7—12. wliich Colieleth has described. He has acquainted himself with wisdom, native and foreign ; and wisdom has led him to conclusions of virtue. Nor is he of those who love virtue as they love music — without practising it. Be- lieving that a righteous and religious life will ensure happi- ness and equip him to encounter the difficulties of thought, he has striven to be good and pure, to offer his sacrifices and pay his vows. But he has found that, despite his best endeavours, his life is not a happy one, that the very cala- mities which overtake the wicked overtake him, that that wise carriage of himself by which he thought to win love has provoked hatred, that Death remains a frowning and inhospitable mystery. He hates death, and has no great love for the life which hitherto has brought him only labour and disappointment. Where is he likely to turn next ? Wisdom having failed him, to what will he apply ? At what conclusion will he naturally arrive ? Will not his conclu- sion be that standing conclusion of the baffled and hapless, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die ? " Will he not say, " Why sliould I weary myself any more with studies which yield no certain science and self-denials which meet with no reward ? If a wise and pure conduct cannot secure me from the evils I dread, let me at least try
Chap. IX. v. 10. NOT IN PLEASURE. 227
to forget them and grasp such poor delights as arc still within my reach " ? This, at all events, is the conclusion in which Coheleth lands him : and hence the Preacher takes occasion to review the pretensions of Pleasure or ]\Iirth. To the bafHed and hopeless devotee of Wisdom, he says, " Go, then, eat thy bread with gladness, and drink thy wine with a cheerful heart. Don't trouble yourself with any thought of God and His judgments. Why should you ? He, as you have discovered, docs not mete out re- wards and punishments according to our merit or demerit ; and as He does not punish the wicked after their deserts, you may be very certain that He has long since been pleased with your wise virtuous endeavours and will keep no score against you. Deck yourself, then, in white festive garments ; let no perfume be lacking to your head ; add to your harem any woman who takes your fimcy : and as the day of your life is but brief at the best, let no hour of it slip by unenjoyed. As you have chosen Mirth for your portion, be as merry as you may. ^Vllatevcr you can get, get ; whatever you can do, do. You are on your road to the dark dismal grave where there is no work nor device ; there is the more reason therefore why your journey should be a merry one" (vv. 7 — 10).
Thus the Preacher describes the Man of Pleasure and the maxims by which he rules his life : how true the description is 1 need not tarry to prove ; 'tis a point every man can jud.ue for himself. Judge also whether tin'
15*
228 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. IX. v. 11, to
warning which the Preacher subjoins be not equally true to experience (vv. 11, 12). Tor, after having described the Man who trusts in Wisdom, and the Man who gives him- self to Pleasure, he proceeds to show that even the Wise Man who blends mirth with study, whose wisdom therefore preserves him from the disgusts of satiety and vulgar lust, is nevertheless, to say nothing of the Chief Good, very far from having reached a certain good. Then, at least, " the race was not to the swift nor the battle to the strong ; neither was bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favour to the learned." Those who had the fairest chances had not always the happiest success ; nor did those who bent themselves most strongly toward their ends always reach their ends. Those who were wanton as birds, or heedless as fish, were often taken in the snare of calamity or swept up by the net of misfortune. At any moment a killing frost might blight all the growths of Wisdom and destroy all the sweet fruits of Pleasure : and if they had only these — what could they do but starve when these were gone ? The good which was at the mercy of Accident, which might vanish before the instant touch of Disease, or Loss, or Pain, was not worthy to be co]npared with the Chief Good, which is a good for all times, in all accidents, and renders him who has it equal to all events. Nor in Devotion to Af- So far, then, Coheleth has been occupied in retracing fairs and its Rewards: ^|^g argument of the Pii'st Scctiou of the I>(jok, in which he Chap. IX., V. 13, (() liiij discussed the claims of Wisdom and I'leasure, or both
Chap. X., V. 20.
Chap. IX. v. 13. NOT IN AFFAIRS. 229
combined, to lie regarded as the Chief Good of Life. Now he returns upon the Second and Third Sections of the ]5o()k : he deals with the man who plunges into public affairs, who turns his wisdom to practical account, and seeks to attain a Competence, if not a Fortune. He lingers long over this stage of his argument, probably because the Jews, then as always since, even in exile and under the most cruel oppressions, were a singularly pushing, practical, money-getting race : and as he slowly pursues it, he drops many hints of the social and political conditions of the time. Two features of it he takes much to heart : first that wisdom, even of the most practised and sagacious sort, did not win its fair recognition and reward, — a very natural complaint in so wise a man: and secondly, that his people were captives to tyrants so gross, so self-indulgent, so unstatesman-likc as the Persians of his day, — also a natural complaint in a man of so wise and patriotic a spirit.
He opens with an anecdote in proof of the slight regard in which the most valuable and remunerative sagacity was held. He tells us of a poor man — and I have sometimes thought that this poor man may have been the Author him- self ; for the military leaders of the Jews, though among the most expert strategists of that era, were often very learned studious men — who lived in a little city, with few inhabitants. A great king came up against the city, be- sieged it, threw up the lofty military causeway from which
230 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. IX, v. 13, to
it was the fashion of the time to deliver the assault. By his wit the poor man hit on a stratagem which saved the city ; but though his service was so signal and the city so little that the " few men in it " must have seen him every day, " yet no one remembered that same poor man," or lent a hand to lift him from his poverty. Wise as he was, liis wisdom did not bring him bread, nor riches, nor favour (vv. 13 — 15).* Therefore, concludes the Preacher, wisdom, great gift though it be, and better, as in this instance, than '•' an army to a beleagured city," is not of itself sufficient to secure success.^ A poor man's wisdom is despised even by those who profit by it. Although his counsel is often more valuable and welcome than the loud behests of a foolish ruler or captain, nevertheless the captain, because he is foolish, may be affronted to find one of the poorest men in the place wiser than himself ; he may easily place his " merit in the eye of scorn," and so rob him of both the honour and the reward of his achievement ; — an ancient saw not, I think, without modern instances (w. 16, 17). For the fool is a great power in the world, especially the fool who is wise in his own conceit. Insignificant in him- self, wellnigh a negative quantity, he may nevertheless do great positive harm and " destroy much good." Just as a tiny fly, when it is dead, may make the sweetest ointment offensive by infusing its own evil savour ; so a man, when
« Couip. V. 11. t ^ee Chap. v\i., v. 19.
Chap. X. v. 3. NOT IN AFFAIRS. 231
his wit is gone, may with his little folly cause many sen- sible well-meaning men to distrust the wisdom they should honour (chap, x., v. 1). To a wise man, like Cohcleth, the fool, the presumptuous conceited fool, is " rank and smells to heaven," infecting sweeter natures with a most poisonous corruption. He paints us a picture of him — paints it with a graphic contempt which, if the eyes of the fool* were in his head, and " what lie is pleased to call his mind " could for a moment only shift from his left hand to his right (v. 2), might make him nearly as loathsome to himself as he is to others. As you read the verse (v. 3) the unhappy wretch stands before you. You see him coming out of his house ; he goes dawdling down the street, for ever wander- ing from the path, attracted by the merest trifle, staring at familiar objects with eyes that have no recognition in them, knowing neither himself nor others ; and, with pointed finger, chuckles after every sober citizen he meets, " There goes a fool ! "
Yet a fool quite as foolish and malignant as this, quite as indecent even in outward behaviour, may be lifted to high place, and has ere now sat on an imperial throne.f The Preacher had seen many of them suddenly raised to
* Comp. Chap, ii., v. 14.
t To cite only one instance out of many — other instances may be found in the Introduction — let the reader reciill the Emperor Caligula, and refer, for example, to his reception of the Alexandrian Jews, as recorded by Philo, Legal ad C'aium, cc. 44 — 4o ; or by Merivale, in his History of the Romans,
232 THE CHIEF GOOD Chav. X. v. 4, to
power, while nobles were degraded and high functionaries of State reduced to an abject servitude. Now if the poor wise man should have to attend the durbar, or sit in the divan, of a foolish capricious despot, how should he bear himself? The Preacher counsels meekness and submis- sion. He is to sit unruffled even though the rider should rate him, lest by resentment he should provoke some graver outrage (vv. 4 — 7).* To strengthen him in his sub- mission, the Preacher hints at cautions and consolatory- hopes which, because free open speech was very dangerous under the Persian despotism, he wraps up in obscure maxims capable of a double sense — to the true sense of which " a foolish ruler " was by no means likely to pene- trate, even if the MS. fell into his hands.
The first of these maxims is, " He who diggeth a pit shall fall into it " (verse 8). And the allusion is, of course, to an Eastern mode of trapping wild beasts and game. The huntsman dug a pit, covered it with twigs and sods, and strewed the surface with bait ; but as he dug many such pits and some of them were long without a tenant, he might at any inadvertent moment fall into one of them himself. The proverb is capable of at least two interpre-
Chap. xlvii., pp. 47 — 50 ; or by Milman, in hisj History of the Jews, Book XII., pp. Ill — 14f5. Ho will then know, to use the phrase of Appollonius of Tyana, "what the kind of beast called a tyrant" is, or may be. * Comp. Chap, viii., v. 3.
Chap. X. v. 10. NOT IN AFFAIRS. 233
tations. It may mean, that the foolish despot plotting the rviin of his wise servant might in his anger go too far ; and, betraying his intention, provoke a retaliativc anger before which he himself would fall. Or it may mean, that should the wise man seek to undermine the throne of the despot, he might be taken in his treachery and bring on himself the whole weight of the tyrant's wi-ath. The second maxim is, " Whoso breaketh down a wall a serpent shall bite him " (verse 8) ; and here the allusion is to the fact that snakes infest the crannies of old walls.* To set about dethroning a tyrant was like pulling down such a wall ; you would break up tlie nest of many a reptile, many a venomous hanger-on, and might only get bit for your pains. Or, again, in pulling out the stones of an old wall, you might let one of them fall on your foot ; and in hacking out its timbers, you might cut yourself: that is to say, even if your conspiracy did not involve you in absolute ruin, it would be only too likely to do you serious and lasting injury (v. 9). The fifth adage runs (v. 10), " If the axe be blunt, and he do not sharpen it, he must put on more strength, but wisdom should teach him to repair it," and is, perhaps, the most difficult passage in the Book. The Hebrew is read in a different way by almost every trans- lator. As I read it, it means, in general, that it is not well
* Coinp. ^Viuos V. I'J.
234 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. X. v. 10, to
to work with blunt tools when by a little labour and delay you may whet them to a keener edge. Eead thus, the political rule implied in it is, " Don't attempt any great enterprise till you have a well-thought-out scheme, and skilful instruments to carry out every part of it." But the special political import of it may be, " Your strength is nothing to that of the tyrant ; do not therefore lift a blunt axe against the trunk of despotism ; wait till you have put a sharp edge upon it." Or, the tyrant himself may be the blunt axe, and then the warning is, " Sharpen him up ; repair him ; use him and his caprices to serve your own turn ; get your way by giving way to him, and by skilfully availing yourself of his varying moods." Which of these may be the meaning of this obscure disputed passage, I do not undertake to say ; perhaps neither of them, perhaps both. But the latter of the two seems to be sustained by the next adage, " If the serpent bite because it is not charmed, there is no advantage to the charmer." For here, I think, there can be little doubt that the foolish angry ruler is the serpent, and the wise functionary the charmer who is to extract the venom of his anger. Let the foolish ruler be never so furious, the poor wise man, who is able " to cull the plots of best advantages " and to save a city, can surely devise a charm of soft submissive words which will turn away his wrath ; just as the serpent-charmer •of the East, by song and incantation, is at least reputed to draw serpents from their lurk that he may pluck the venom
Chap. X. v. 15. NOT IN AFFAIRS. 285
from their tongue (v. 11). For, as we are told, in the very next verse (v. 12), " the words of the wise man's mouth win liim favour, while the lips of the fool destroy him."
And on this hint, on this casual mention of his name, the Preacher — who all this while, remember, is personating the sagacious man of the world bent on rising to wealth and comfort and distinction — once more " comes down " on the fool. He speaks of him with extreme wrath and contempt, as men versed in public affairs are apt to do, since they best know how nmch harm a talkative self-con- ceited fool may do them, how much good he may prevent. Here, then, is the fool of public life. He is a man always prating and predicting, although his words are folly and madness from beginning to end, and although he of all men is least able to give good counsel or to foresee what is about to come to pass. Puffed up by the conceit of wisdom and ability, he is for ever intermeddling with great affairs, though he has no notion how to handle them, and is barely capable of finding his way along the beaten road which leads to the capital city (w. 12 — 15). If he would only hold his tongue, he might pass muster; beguiled by his gravity and silence, men might give him credit for sagacity and fit his foolish deeds with profound motives ; but he will speak, and his words betray and destroy him. Of course ive have no such fools to rise in their high place and wag their tongues to their own hurt ; no doubt they are peculiar to the East.
236 THE CHIEF GOOD Chap. X. v. 16, to
But then there were so many of them, and their influence in the State was so disastrous that, as the Preacher thinks of them, he breaks into an ahnost ditliyrambic fervour. He cries, "Woe to thee, 0 land, when thy king is childish, and thy princes feast in the morning ! Happy thou, O land, when thy king is noble, and thy princes eat at due hours, for strength and not for revelry ! " Through the sloth and dissipation of these foolish rulers, the whole fabric of the State was fast falling into decay ; — the roof rotting and the rain leaking in. To support their untimely profligate revelry, they imposed crushing taxes on the people, which inspired either a revolutionary discontent or the apathy of despair. The Wise Captive foresaw that the end of a despotism so luxurious and cruel could not be far off ; that when the storm rose and the wind blew, the ancient house, unrepaired in its decay, would topple on the heads of those who sat in its halls revelling in a wicked mirth (vv. 16 — 19). Meantime, the sagacious servant of the State, per- chance an exile from his own land, unable to arrest the progress of decay, or not caring how soon it was consum- mated, would make his "market of the time;" he would carry himself with dexterous caution ; and, because the whole land was infested with the spies bred by despotism, he would give them no hold on him, nor so much as speak the simple truth of his foolish debauched rulers in the privacy of his bedchamber, or mutter his thoughts upon his own roof, lest some " bird of the air should carry the re- port " (v. 20).
CiiAr. XI. V. 1. NOT IN AFFAIRS. 237
But if this were the condition of the time, if to rise in public life involved so many mean crafts and submissions, so many deadly perils from spies and fools and despots ; how could any man hope to find the Chief Good in it ? Wisdom did not always win promotion : virtue was incom- patible with success. The anger of an incapable idiot, or the whisper of an envious rival, or the caprice of a merci- less despot might at any moment undo the work of years, and expose the most sagacious to the worst extremities of misfortune. There was no tranquillity, no freedom, no security, no dignity in a life such as this. Till this were resigned and some nobler aim found, there was no prospect of securing that great satisfying Good which lifts man above all accidents, and fixes him in a happy security from which no blow of Circumstance can dislodge him.
II. What that Good is, and where it may be found, the But in a wise Use and
wise Enjoyment of the
Preacher now proceeds to show. But as his manner is, he present Life,
does not say in so many words, " This is the Chief Good ^^ ^j ^^ j_g
of man," or, " You will find it yonder ; " but he places
before us the man who is walking in the right path and
drawing closer and closer to it. Even of him the Preacher
does not give us any formal and direct description ; but,
following what we have seen to be his favourite method,
he gives us a string of maxims and counsels from which
we are to infer what manner of man he is who happily
achieves this great Quest.
238 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap, XI. v. 1, to
And at the very outset we learn that this happy person is of a noble, unselfish, generous temper. Unlike the man who wants simply to get on and make a fortune, he grudges no man his gains ; he looks on his neighbours' interests as well as his own, and does good even to the evil and the unthankful.* He is one who " casts his broad upon the waters " (chap, xi., v. 1), and who " gives a portion thereof to seven, and even to eight " (v. 2). The familiar proverb of the first verse has been commonly read as an allusion to the sowing of rice and other grain from a boat during the periodical inundation of certain Eastern rivers, especially the Nile. We have been taught to regard the husbandman pushing from the embanked village in his frail bark, to cast the grain he would gladly eat on the
* One of tho most elaborate proverbs in tlic Talmud is on Charity : — " Iron breaks the stone, fire melts iron, water extinguishes fire, the clouds drink up the water, a storm drives away the clouds, man withstands the storm, fear unmans man, wine dispels fear, sleep drives uway wine, and death sweeps all away — even sleep. But Solomon the Wise says: charity saves from death." And there is hardly a finer passage in Shakespeare's Soimets than that (CXVl.) in which he sings tho disinterestedness of love, and its superiority to all change :
Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.
*****
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and checks AVithin his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks. But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Chap. XI. v. 2. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 239
surface of the flood, as a type of Cliristian labour and charity. He denies himself; so also must -sve if we would do good. He has faith in the divine laws, and trusts to receive his own again with usury, to reap a larger crop the longer he waits for it ; and, in like manner, we are to trust in the divine laws which brmg us a hundredfold for every act of self-denying service and bless our " long patience" with the ampler harvest. It is with some natural regret that I ask you to give up that familiar figure, or rather not to derive it from this passage. The Hebrew vsiis loqumdi does not admit of the usual inter- pretation. But it suggests a figure which, if unfamiliar, is not without its beauty. In the East, bread is commonly made in thin flat cakes, something like the slight Passover cakes of the Jews : and one of these cakes flung on the stream, though it would float with the current for a time, would soon sink ; and, once sunk, would — unlike the grain cast from the boat — yield no return. And our charity should be like that. We should do good " hoping for nothing again." We should show kindnesses which will soon be forgotten and never be returned, and be undis- mayed by the thauklessness of our task. The task is not so thankless as it seems. For, first, we shall " find the good of it " in the loftier more generous temper which the habit of doing good breeds and confirms. If no one else be the better for our kindness, we shall be the better for
240 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XI. v. 2, to
having shown it. The quality of charity, like that of mercy, is not strained:
It droppoth as tho gentle rain from heaven Upon tho placo beneath ; it is twice blessed ; It blessoth him that gives and him that takes.
And, again, the task is not so thankless as it sometimes seems : for though many of our kind deeds may quicken no kindness in " him that takes," yet some of them will ; and the more we help and succour the more likely are we to light upon at least a lew who, when our need comes, will succour and console us. Even the most hardened persons have a certain tenderness for those who help them, if only the lielp meet a real need and be rendered kindly and with a grace. And therefore we may be very sure that if we give a portion of our bread to seven and even to eight, especially if they know that we ourselves have stomach for it all, at least one or two of them will share with us when our need comes.
But is not this, after all, only a refined selfishness ? If we give because we do not know how soon we may need a gift, and in order that we may by- and-by " find the good of it," — do not even the heathen and the publicans the same ? Well, not many of them, I think. I have not observed that it is their habit to cast their bread on thank- less waters. If they forbode calamity and loss, they provide against them, not l)y giving, but liy storing and
CuAP. XI. V. 2. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 241
saving : they bank with Thrift aud Good Investment, not with Charity and Kindness. The refined selfishness of showiiii; kindness and doing good even to the evil and unthankful is by no means too common yet ; we need not go in dread of it. Nor is it an altogether unworthy motive. St. Paul* urges us to help a brother who has fallen before temptation on the express ground that we ourselves may need similar help some day : aud he was not in the habit of appealing to mean and base motives. Nay, the very Golden Eule itself touches this spring of action ; for among other meanings it surely has this, that we are to do to others as we would that they should do to us, in the hope that, sooner or later, they also will walk by the same rule, and do to us as we have done to them. There are other higher meanings in the Ilule, as there are other purer motives for Charity : but I don't know that we are any of us of so lofty a virtue that we may need fear to show kind- ness in order that we may win kindness, or to give help that we may get help. Possibly, to act on this motive may be the best and nearest way to rise to such higher motives as we can reach.
The first characteristic, then, of the man who is likely to achieve the Quest of the Chief Good is, the Charity wliich prompts him to be gracious and show kindness and do wod even to tlie thankless and uncfracious. And his
*■ Sec Gal. vi. i.
16
242 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XL v. 2, to
second characteristic is the steadfast Industry which turns all seasons to account. The Man of Afifairs, who wants to rise, waits on occasion : he is on the watch to avail him- self of the moods and caprices of men and bend them to his interest. But he who has learned to value things at their true worth, and whose heart is fixed on the acquisi- tion of the highest good, does not want to get on so much as he wants to do his duty in whatever station he may be placed, and under all the variable conditions of life. Just as he will not withhold his hand from giving, lest some of the recipients of his charity should prove unworthy; so also he will not withdraw his hand from the labour appointed him, because this or that endeavour may be unproductive, or lest it should be thwarted by the ordi- nances of Heaven. He knows that the laws of Nature will hold on their way, often causing individual loss to promote the general good. He knows, for instance, that when the clouds are full of rain, they loill empty themselves upon the earth, even though they put his harvest in peril ; and that when the wind is fierce, it will blow down trees, even though it should also scatter the seed which he is sowing. But he does not therefore wait vipon the wind till it is too late to sow, nor upon the clouds till his ungathered crops rot in the fields. He is conscious that, though he knows much, he knows little of these as of other works of God : he cannot tell whether this tree or that will be blown down ; almost all he is certain of is that, when the tree
CuAP. XI. V. G. THE QUEST ACHIEVED, 243
is down, it will lie where it has fallen, lifting its bleeding roots in dumb protest against the wind which has laid it low. But this too he knows, that it is " God who workcth all ;" that he is not responsible for events beyond his control : that what he is responsible for is that he do his duty ^\■hatever wind may blow, and calmly leave the issue in the hand of God. And so, diligent and undismayed, he goes on his way, giving liimsclf heartily to the present duty, " sowing his seed, morning and evening, although he cannot tell which shall prosper, this or that, or whether both shall prove good " (vv. 3 — G). "Windy ]\Iarch cannot blow him from his constant purpose, though it may blow the seed out of his hand ; nor a rainy August melt him to despairing tears, though it may damage his harvest. He has done his duty, discharged his responsibility : let God see to the rest : whatever pleases God will content him.
'fhis man, then, has already learned one or two of the proibundest secrets of Wisdom. He has learned that, giving, we gain ; and, spending, thrive. He has also learned that a man's true care is himself ; that all which pertains to the body, to the issues of labour, to the chances of fortune, is external to himself ; that whatever form these may take, he may learn from them, and jn-ofit by them, and be content in them: that his true business in the world is to cultivate a strong dutiful cliaracter which shall prepare him for any world or any fate ; and that so long
Hi*
244 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XI. v. 7, to
as he can do that, his main duty will be done, his ruling object attained.
Is not tliis the true wisdom ? is it not an abiding good ? Pleasures may bloom and fade. Speculations may shift and change. Eiches may come and go — what else have they wings for ? The body may sicken or strengthen. The favour of men may be conferred and withdrawn. There js no stability in these ; and if we are dependent on them, we shall be variable and inconstant as they are. But if we make it our chief aim to do our duty whatever it may be, and to love our neighbour even though he be envious and thankless ; we have an aim always within our reach, a duty we may be always doing, a good enduring as the immortal soul, and therefore a good we may enjoy for ever. Standing on this rock, " the light will be sweet to us, and it shall be pleasant to our eyes to behold the sun," whatever the day, or the world, on which he may rise (V. 7).
But is all our life to be taken up in meeting the claims of Duty and Charity ? Are we never to relax into mirth ? never to look forward to a time in which reward will be more exactly adjusted to service ? Yes ; we are to do both this and that. It is very true that he who makes it his ruling aim to do the present duty and leave the future with God, will live a happy because a useful life. He that walks tliis path of duty
Chap. XI. v. 8. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 246
only thirsting For the right, and learns to deaden Love of self, before his joumcj- closes, He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Into glossy purples, which outredden All voluptuous garden roses.
The patli may often be difficult and steep ; it may be over- hung with threatening rocks and strewed with " stones of offence ; " but he who pursues it, still pressing on " through the long gorge " and winning his way upward,
Shall find the toppling crags of Duty scaled.
Are close upon the shining table-lands
To which our God Himself is moon and sun.
Nevertheless, if his life is to be full and complete, he must be able to pluck whatever bright flowers of joy spring beside his path, to find " laughing waters " in the crags he climbs, and to rejoice not only in " the glossy purples " of the stubborn thistle, but in the delicate beauty of the ferns, the pure grace of the cyclamens, and the sweet breath of the fragrant grasses and flowers which haunt those severe heifrhts. If he is to be a man rather than a Stoic or an Anchorite, he must add to his sense of duty a keen delight in all lieauty, all grace, all pleasure. For the sake of others, too, as well as for his own sake, he must carry with him " the merry heart which doeth good like a medicine," since lacking that, ho will neither do all llu^ good he might, nor
246 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XI. v. 8, to
himself become perfect and complete. And it is proof, I think, of the good divinity no less than of the broad hu- manity of the Preacher, that he lays much stress on this point. He not only bids us enjoy life, but gives us cogent reasons for enjoying it. " Even," he says, "if a man should live many years, he ought to enjoy them all." But why ? " Because there will be many dark days," days of old age and its accompanying infirmities, in which pleasures will lose their charm ; days of death in which he will sleep quietly in the dark stillness of the grave, beyond the touch of the happy excitements granted us here (v. 8). There- fore the man who attains the Chief Good will not only do the duty of the moment ; he will also enjoy the pleasure of the moment. He will not toil through the day of life, till, spent and weary, he has no power to enjoy his " much goods," or no time for his soul to " make merry and be glad." Wliile he is " a young man," lie will " rejoice in his youth, and let his heart cheer liim," and go after the pleasures which attract youth (v. 9). While his heart is still fresh, when pleasures are most innocent and healthful, easiest of attainment and unalloyed by anxiety and care, he will cultivate that cheerful happy temper whicli is a prime safeguard against vice, discontent, and the morose fretfidness of a selfish old age.
ComLinod with a -r>i.i>i^-j^ ri- n
stoadfiist Faith in the But sott ; IS uot our luau 01 men becoming a mere man of
1 c to coiuo. pleasure ? "Will not he run the riot of the senses, and soon
Chap! xii.,\-. 7. " have to say to Mirth " Thou art mad ! " and to Pleasure'
Chap. XI. v. 9. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 247
" What canst thou do ? " No : for he is not a mere votary of Pleasure. As we have seen, he recognizes the claims of Duty and of Charity, and does not reject these for that. These keep his pleasures sweet and wholesome, prevent them from usurping the whole man and landing him in the weariness and satiety of dissipation. But lest even these safeguards should prove insufficient, he has also this : he knows that " God will bring him into judgment; " that all his works, whether of charity or duty or recreation, will be weighed in the balance of Divine Justice (v. 9). This is the simple secret of the pure heart — the heart that is kept pure amid all labours and cares and joys. But the in- tention of the Preacher in thus adverting to tlic Divine Judgment has been gravely misconstrued — wrested even to its very opposite. Wo too much forget what that Judgment must have seemed to the enslaved Jews ; — how weighty a consolation ! how bright a hope ! They were captive exiles, oppressed by profligate despotic lords. Cleaving to the Divine Law with a passionate loyalty such as they had never felt in happier days, they were nevertheless exposed to the most dire and constant misfortunes. All the bles- sings which the Law pronounced on the obedient seemed withheld from them, all its promises of good and peace to be falsified ; the wicked triumphed over them, and pros- pered in their wickedness. Now to a people whose con- victions and hopes had suffered this miserable defeat, what truth would be more welcome than that of a life to come,
248 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XI. v. 9, to
in which all wrongs should be both righted and avenged, and all the promises in which they had hoped should receive a large fulfdment that would beggar hope ? what prospect could be more cheerful and consolatory than that of a day of retribution, on which their oppressors would be shamed, and lIieTj be recompensed for their fidelity to the Law of God? This hope would be sweeter to them than any pleasure : it would lend a new zest to every pleasure, and make them more zealous in good worlcs.*
* Nay, we Icnow from the Psalms composed during tlio period of the Captivity that the judgment of God was an incentive to hope and joy ; that, instead of fearing it, the oppressed captives looked forward to it with rapture and exulta- tion. What, for example, can he more riant and joyful than the concluding strophe of Psalm xcvi. ?
Let the heavens rejoice and let the earth he glad,
Let the sea make a noise and all that therein is ; Let the field be joyful and all that is in it, And let all the trees of the wood rejoice Before Jehovah ; for He comcth,
For He cometh to judge the Earth, To judge the world tcith His righteousness And the people tvith His truth : or than the third strophe of Psalm xcviii. ?
Let the sea make a noise and all that therein is,
The world and they that dwell in it ; Let the floods clap their hands
And let the hills be joyful together, Before Jehovah ; for He comcth to judge the Earth : With righteousness shall He judge the world, And the people with equity. It is impossible to read these verses without feeling tliat the Jews of the Caj)tivity anticipated the Divine Judgment, not M'ith fear and dread, but \vith a hope the most bright and glad.
Chap. XI. v. 10. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 249
If we remembered this, wc should not so readily agree with those Commentators who suppose the Preacher to ho speaking ironically in this verse (v. 9), as thougli he would defy his readers to enjoy their pleasures with the thought of God and His judgment in their minds. We should rather understand that he was making their life more cheerful to them ; that he was removing the blight of liopeless despair which had fallen on it ; that he was kind- ling in their dreary future a light which would shine even upon the darkened present with most gracious and kindly rays. All wTongs would be easier to bear, all duties would be more heartily done, aU alleviating pleasures woidd grow more welcome, if once they were fully persuaded that there was a life beyond death, a life in which the good would be " comforted " and the evil " tormented." It is on the express ground that there is a Judgment, that the Preacher, in the last verse of this Eleventh Chapter, bids them " ban- ish care and sadness : " — though he also adds another rea- son, a reason which no longer afficts him, viz. that " youth and manhood are vanity." Mark how quickly the force of this great hope has reversed his position. Only in the eighth verse of this Chapter, the very instant before he states his hope, he urges men to enjoy the present, " because all that is coming is vanity," because there were so many dark days, days of infirm age and dreary death, at hand. But here, in the tenth verse, the very moment he has stated his hope of a future life, he urges them to enjoy the present'
250 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XI. v. 10, to
not because the future is vanity, but because the present is vanity, because youth and manhood soon pass and the pleasures proper to them will soon be out of reach. Why should they be any longer fretted with care and anxiety when the Lamp of Eevelation shone so brightly on the future ? Wliy should they not be cheerful when so happy a prospect lay before them ? Why should they sit brooding over their wrongs when their wrongs were so soon to be righted and they were to enter on so ample a recompense of reward? Wliy should they not travel towards that happy future with light hearts, hearts attuned to mirth, and responsive to every touch of pleasure ?
But is the thought of the Judgment to be no check on our pleasures ? Well, it is certainly used in this passage as an incentive to pleasure. AVe are to be happy because we are to meet God, because there is a bright future life, because in the Judgment He will compensate all the wrongs and afflictions of time. But it is not every one who can take to himself the full comfort of this argument. Only he can do that, who makes it his ruling aim to do his duty and to help his neighbour. And no doubt even he will find the hope of judgment — for with him it is a hope, not a fear — a valuable check not on his pleasures, but on those base counterfeits which often pass for pleasures, and which betray men through voluptuousness into satiety, disgust, remorse. Because he hopes to meet God, and has to give account of himself to God, he will resist the
Chap. XII. v. I. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 261
evil lusts .vhich pollute and degrade the soul : and thus the prospect of the Judgment will become a safeguard and a defence. r>ut he has a safeguard of even a more sove- reign potency than this. For he not only looks forward to a future judgment ; he is conscious of a present and constant judgment. God is with him wherever he goes. From " the days of his youth," he has " remembered his Creator " (chap. xii. v. 1). He has remembered Him ; and given to the poor and needy. He has remembered Him, and, doing all things as to Him, duty has grown light. He has remembered Him, and his pleasures liave groAvn the sweeter because they were gifts from Heaven, and because he has taken them, in a thankful spirit, for a temperate enjoyment. Of all safeguards to a life of virtue, this is the noblest and the best. We can afford, indeed, to part with none of them, for we are very weak and need all helps ; but least of all can we afford to part with this. We need to remember that we must all appear before the judgment-seat of God, to render an account of the deeds done in the body. But above all — if love, and not fear, is to be the animating spirit of our life — we need to remember that God is always with us ; observing wliat we do, not that He may gather heavy charges against us, but tliat He may help us to do well ; not to frown upon our pleasures, but to hallow and deepen and prolong tliem, and to be Himself our Chief Good and our Supreme Delidit.
2o2 THE QUBST ACHIEVED. Chap. XII. v. 1, to
' Live while you live,' the Epiciu-e would say, * And seize the pleasui-o of the present day.' ' Live "while you live,' the Sacred Preacher cries, ' And give to God each moment as it flies.'
Lord, in my view lot both united be,
I live in pleasure while I live in Thee.*
Finally, the Preacher enforces this early and habitual reference of the soul to the Divine Presence and Will by a brief allusion to the impotence and weariness of a godless old age, and by a very striking description of the terrors of the death in which it culminates.
While " the dew of youth " is still fresh upon us we are to " remember our Creator " and His constant judgment of us, lest, forgetting Him, we should waste our powers in sensual excess ; lest temperate mirth should degenerate into an extravagant and wanton devotion to pleasure ; lest the lust of mere physical enjoyment should outlive the power of enjoyment, and, groaning under the penalties our unbridled indulgence has provoked, we should find " days of evil " rise on us in long succession and draw out into " years " of fruitless desire, self-disgust, and despair (verse 1). " Before the evil days come," and that they may not come ; before " the years arrive of which we shall say ' I have no pleasure in them !'" and that they may not arrive,
* Dxm vivimus viviamiis. — Doddridge.
Chap. XII.'v. 6. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 253
■\vc are to bethink us of the Pure and A^vful Presence in which we daily stand. God is with us that we may not sin ; with us in youth that the angel of Ilis Presence may save us from the sins to whicli youth is prone ; with us to save us from the sins of youth that our closing years may have the cheerful serenity of happy old age.
To this admonition drawn from the miseries of godless age, the Preacher subjoins a description of the terrors of approaching death (w. 2 — 5), — a description which has suftered many strange torments at the hands of the Com- mentators. It has commonly been read as an allegorical, but singularly accurate, diagnosis of the breaking up of man's physical frame, as setting forth in graphic figures the gradual decay of sense after sense, faculty after faculty.*
* It may be worth while to specify some of the gross and absurd conjectures, 8omo also of the strange differences, into which what may be called the malical reading of this passage has betrayed even the most learned Commen- tators. Ginsburg, who really seems to have read well-nigh all in evei-y language which has been written on Ecclesiastes, has a wonderful collection of them distributed through his " Notes " to these verses. I select and combine a few of them. The darkening of the sun, the light, the moon, and the st<irs (verse 2), for instance, is taken by one great authority (the Talmud) to mean the dark- ening of the forehead, the nose, the soul, and the teeth ; by another (the Chaldce Para phrast), the obscuring of the face, tU eyes, the checks, and the apples of the eyes; by a third (Dr. Smith, in his " Portraitui-e of Old Age"), for the decay of all the mental faculties. That " the clouds return after the rain" signifies, according to Ibn Ezra, the constant dimness of the eyes ; according to Le Clerc, a had influenza, accompanied uith unceasing snujfliny. "The keepers of the house " (verse 3) arc the fibs and the loins (Talmud), the kncis (Chaldce), and the hands and arms (Ibn Ezra). "The men of power" are the thighs
•2oi THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XII. v. 2, to
Learned physicians have written treatises upon it, and have been lost in admiration of the force and beauty of the metaphors in which it conveys the results of their special science, although they differ in their interpretation of al- most every sentence, and are driven at times to the most gross and absurd conjectures in order to sustain their several theories. I need not trouble you, however, with
(Talmud), and the arms (Chaldcc). " The grinding maids " are the teeth, and " the ■women who look out of windows " are the eyes. " The door closed on the street" is the pores of the skin (Dr. Smith), the lips (Ibn Ezra), and the eyes {HenstenheTg). That " the noise of the mill grows faint" (verse 4) means that the mastieation of food becomes imperfect (Dr. Smith), that the appetite fails (Chaldee), that the voice grows feeble (Grotius). That " the song-birds descend to their nests " signifies that music and songs are a bore to the aged man (Talmud), that he is no longer able to sing (Chaldee), that his ears are heavy (Grotius). The allusion to " the almond " (verse 5) denotes that the haunch-bone shall come oxU from leanness (Talmud), or (Reynolds) it denotes the hoary hair ivhich comes qtdckly on a man, just as the almond-tree thrusts out her blossoms before any other tree; while at least half-a-dozen scholars and physicians aflBrm that it points to mcmbrum gcntilce or glans virilis. That " the locust becomes a burden " means that the ankles sicell (Chaldee), gout in the feet {Jerome), a projecting stomach (Lc Clcrc), the dry shrivelled frame of an old man (Dr. Smith). Almost all modern Commentators take the reference to " the caper-berry " as marking that provocatives to lust lose their power ^vith the aged. " The silver cord " and " golden bowl " of verse 6, arc the tongue and the skull (Chaldee), S2)ina dorsi and pia mater, backbone and brain (Dr. Smith), urine and bladder (Gasper Sanctius) ; while "the bucket" is either the gall or the right ventricle of the heart, and "the wheel" that draws the water is an image of the air-inspiring lungs.
Now of course it would not be just to condemn any interpretation simply because it is weighted with absurdities aud contradictions, though it surely rc(iuircs a very strong theory to carry such a mass of gross and opposed readings us I have just cited. But when an interpretation is so obviously
Chap. XII. v. 6. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 256
any detailed account of their speculations, for the simple reason that they are based, as I believe, on an entire mis- conception of the Sacred Text. Instead of being, as they have supposed, a figurative description of the dissolution of the body, it sets forth the threatening approach of Deatli under the image of a tempest which, gathering over an Eastern city during the day, breaks upon it towards even- iuf'. I do not know that we can better arrive at its mean- ing and force than by considering what would be the inci- dents which would strike us if we were to stroll through the narrow tortuous streets of such a city as the day was
closing in.
As we passed along we should find rows of small houses and shops, broken here and there by a wide stretch of blank wall, behind which were the mansions, harems, courtyards of its wealthier inhabitants. Hound and within the low narrow gates which gave access to these mansions, we should see armed men lounging M-hose duty it is to guard
forced and fiinciful as that wc arc lierc considering, when it is so remarkably ingenious and leaves to ingenuity so wide and lawless a scope, wc shall do well to hesitate before accepting it. And if another interpretation be oflcred us, aa in the text, which gives a literal rendering to every phrase instead of a figurative rendering, which bases itself on the common household facts of Eastern expe- rience instead of on the niceties of Western science, which instead of being contradictory and absurd is coherent and impressive, wc really have no alter- native before us. "We cannot but reject the former for the latter interpretation ; the ingenious puzzle, capable of so many and various solutions, loses its chai-m when confronted with the simplicities of Nature and Truth.
256 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XII. v. 2, to
the premises against robbers and intruders : these are " the keepers of the house " (v. 3), over whom, as over the whole househokl, are placed superior officials, or " men of power." Going through the gates and glancing up at the latticed windows, we might catch glimpses of the veiled faces of the ladies of the house who, not being permitted to stir abroad except on rare occasions and under jealous guardianship, are accustomed to amuse their dreary leisure, and to learn a little of what is going on around them, by " looking out of the windows." Within the house, the gentlemen of the family would be enjoying the chief meal of the day, pro- voking appetite with delicacies such as " the locust," * or condiments such as "the caper-berry," -f* or with choice
* This locust (Chagab) is one of the four kinds which the Law of Moses marked out as fit for human food. To this day locusts are held in the East to bo a very agreeable and nutritious diet. There arc many ways of j^reparing them for the table. They may be pounded with flour and water, and made into cakes. They may be smoked, boiled, roasted, stewed, and fried in butter. They may be salted with salt ; and thus treated, are eaten by the Arabs as a great delicacy. Or they may be dried in the sun, and then steeped in wine : baskets of them, prepared in this way, are to be commonly seen in Eastern markets. Dr. Kitto, who often ate them, says that they taste more like shrimps than anything else. Dr. Shaw says that they are quite as good as our fresh-water crayfish.
•)■ The Caper plant grows abundantly in Asia, as it docs also in Africa and Southern Europe. It commonly springs in the crevices of walls, on_heaps of ruins, or on barren wastes, and forms a diffuse many-branched shrub. Its flowers are large and showy ; the four petals arc white, but the long numerous stamens have their filaments tinged with purple, and terminate in yellow anthers. As the ovary ripens it droops and forms a pear-shaped berry, which holds in its
Chap. XII, v. 6. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 2.57
fruit such as " the ahnond."* Above all the shrill cries and noises of the city you would hear a loud lunnniing sound rising on every side, for which you would be sorely puzzled to account if you were a stranger to Eastern habits. It is the sound of the cornmills which towards evening are at work in every house. A cornmill was indispensable to every Eastern family, since there wxre no public mills or bakers except the king's. The heat of the climate makes it necessary that corn should be ground and bread baked every day. And as the task of grinding at the mill was very irksome, only the most menial class of women, often slaves or captives, were employed upon it. Of course the noise occasioned by the upper upon the nether millstone was very gi-eat when the mills were sinmltaneously at work in every house in the city. No sound is more familiar in the East ; and if it were suddenly stopped, the effect would be as striking as the sudden stoppage of all the wheels of traffic in one of our English towns. So familiar was
pulp mnny small seeds. Almost every part of the slinib has been used as a condiiuoiit by the ancients. The stalk and seed were salted, or preserved in vinof^ar or wine. Its buds arc still held an agreeable sauce — we cat them with bi>iled mutton. And the berries possess irritjint properties which won them high esteem among the Orientals as a provocative to appetite.
* The fruit of the almond-tree is still reckoned one of the most delicate and delicious fruits in the East. Wo may fancy that we are acquainted with it, that we know "almonds" at least as well as we know "raisins." But, I believe, that the almond we eat is only the kernel of the stone in the true almond : the fruit itself is of the .same order with apricots, peaches, plums.
17
258 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XII. v. 2, to
the sound, indeed, and of such good omen, that in Holy Writ it is used as a symbol of a happy, active, well-provided people ; while the cessation of it is employed to denote want, and desolation, and despair. To an Oriental ear no threat would be more doleful and pathetic than that in Jeremiah,* " I will take from them the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the sound of the millstones, and the light of the candle."
Now suppose that the day on which we rambled through the city had been lowering and boisterous ; that heavy rain had fallen, obscuring all the lights of heaven ; and that, as the evening drew on, the thick clouds, instead of dispersing, had " returned after the rain," so that setting sun, and rising moon, and the growing light of stars were all blotted from view (v. 2), The tempest, long in gathering, breaks on the city ; the lightnings flash through the dark- ness, making it more hideous; the thunder crashes and rolls above the roofs ; the tearing rain beats at all lattices and floods all roads. If we cared to abide the pelting of the storm, we should have before us the very scene which the Preacher here depicts. " The keepers of the house," the guards and porters, would "quake." "The men of power," the official superiors, would " writhe " and tremble
* Jorciniiih xxv. 10.
Chap. XII. v. 6. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 259
with apprehension. The maids at the mill would " stop " because one or other of the two women whom it took to work the heavy millstone had been frightened from her task by the gleaming lightning and the pealing thunder. The ladies looking out of their lattices would be driven back into the darkest corners of the inner rooms of the harem. Every door would be closed and barred, lest robbers, avail- ing themselves of the darkness and its terrors, should creep in (v. 3). " The noise of the mills " would grow faint, because the threatning tumult had " gi'eatly diminished " the number of the grinding-maids. The strong-winged " swallow," lover of wind and tempest, would fly to and fro with shrieks of joy ; while the delicate "song-birds " would hurry to the shelter of their nests and eaves. The gentlemen of the house would lose all gust for their delicate cates* and fruits ; " the almond would be despised, the locust loathed, and even the stimulating caper-berry provoke no appetite," fear being a singularly unwelcome and dis- appetizing guest at a feast. In short, the whole peoiile, stunned and confused by the awful and stupendous ma-
• Sir Henry Rawlinson says : " At the present day, among- the ' bons ^•ivant8 ' of Persia, it is usual to sit for hours before dinner drinking wine and catinp dried fruits, such as filberts, almonds, pistachio-nuts, melon-seeds, &c. A party, indeed, often sits down at seven o'clock, and the dinner is not brought in till eleven. The dessert dishes, intermingled as they are with highly seasoned delicacies, are supposed to have the ctfect of stimulating the appetite."
Notes to Riiivlinson' s Hirodotus, Vol. I. p. '271.
17*
2G0 THE QUEST ACHIEVED. Chap. XII. v. 5, to
jcsty of a tropical storm, would be "affrighted" at "the terrors " Avhich came flaming from " the height " of heaven to confront them "in their way " (w. 4, 5).
Such and so terrible is the tempest that at times sweeps over an Eastern city.* Such and so terrible, adds the Preacher, is death to the godless and sensual. They are carried away as by a storm ; the wind riseth and snatchetli them out of their place. For if we ask, " Wliy, 0 Preacher, has your pencil laboured to depict the terrors of tempest ? " he replies, " Because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners pace up and down the street " (v. 5). He leaves us in no doubt as to the moral of his fable, the theme of his picture. Wliile painting it, while adding touch to touch, he has been thinking of " the long home," — or, as the Hebrew has it, " the house of eternity ; " a phrase still used by the Jews as a synonym for " the grave " — which is appointed for all living, and of the mercenary professional mourners who loiter under the windows of the dying man in the hope that they may be hired to lament him. To the expiring sinner death is simply dreadful. It puts an end to all his activities and enjoyments, just as the tempest brings all the labours and recreations of the city to a pause.
* It should be borne in mind that the comparative rarity of thunder-storms in Syi'ia and the adjacent lands makes them much more dreadful to the inhabitants of those countries. Tliroup:hout the Old Testament, and especially in the Psalms, wo find many traces of the dread which such storms inspired — a dread ahnost unaccountable to our accustomed nerves.
CiiAi'. XII. V. 7. THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 2G1
llo lias nothiii},' before liiin but llic grave, and none to mourn him but the harpies who already pace the street longing lur the moment when he will be gone, and who value their fee far above his life. If we would have death shorn of its ten-ors for us, w^e must " remember our Creator " before death comes ; we must seek, by charity, by a faithful discharge of duty, by a wise use and a wise enjoyment of the life that now is, to have prepared ourselves for the life which is to come.
Death itself, as the Preacher proceeds to remind us (v. 6), cannot be escaped. Some day the cord will break and the lamp fall ; some day the bucket must be broken and the wheel shattered. Death is the common event, the universal and inevitable event. It befalls not only the sinful and injurious, but also the useful and the good. Our life may have been like a "golden" lamp suspended by " silver " chains, fit for the palace of a king, and may have shed a welcome and cheerful light on every side: but nevertheless even the durable costly chain will be snapt at last and the costly beautiful bowl be broken. Our life may have been like " the bucket " dropped by village maidens into the village fountain, or like "the wheel " by which water is drawn from the city well ; it may have conveyed a vital refreshment to many lips : but nevertheless the day must come when the bucket will be shattered on the marble edge of the fountain, and the time- worn wheel drop into the well. There is no escape from
262 THE QUEST ACHIEVED.
death. And, therefore, as we must all die, let us all live as cheerfully and helpfully as we can : let us all prepare for the better life beyond the grave by serving our Creator before " the body is cast upon the earth from which it came, and the spirit returns to God who gave it " (v. 7).
This, then, is the man who achieves the Quest of the Chief Good. — Charitable, dvitiful, cheerful, he prepares himself for death by a useful and happy life, for future judgment by a constant reference to the present judgment, for meeting God hereafter by dwelling with Him here.
Has he not achieved the Quest ? Can we hope to find a more solid, enduring, universal Good ? What to him are the shocks of Change, the blows of Circumstance, the mutations of Time, the fluctuations of Fortune? These cannot touch the Good which he holds to be Chief. If they bring trouble, he can bear trouble and profit by it : if they bring prosperity, happiness, mirth, he can bear even these, and not value them beyond their worth or abuse them to his hurt : for his Good, and therefore his peace and blessedness, are founded on a Rock over which the changeful waves may wash, but against which they cannot prevail. Let the sun shine never so hotly, let the storm beat never so furiously, the Rock stands firm, and the house which he has built for himself upon the Rock. Whatever may befall, he can be doing his main woik, enjoying his supreme satisfaction, since he can meet uU
THE QUEST ACHIEVED. 263
changes with a dutiful and loving heart ; since through all he may he forming a nohle character and helping his neighbours to form a character as noble as his own. Because he has a gracious God always with him, and because a bright future stretches before him in endless and widening vistas of hope, he can carry to all the wrongs and afllictions of time a cheerful spirit which shines througli them with transfiguring rays, — a spirit before which even the thick darkness of death will grow light, and the solemnities of the Judgment be turned into holiday festivity and triumph. Ah, foolish and miserable that we are, who, with so noble a life, and so bright a prospect, and a Good so enduring open to us, nevertheless creep about the earth the slaves of every accident, the very fools of Time !
THE EPILOGUE:
In which the rroUcm of tlic Book is conclusively solved.
Chap. XII. vv. 8—14.
jTUDENTS," says the Talmud, "arc of four kinds : they are like a sponge, a funnel, a strainer, and a sieve : like a sponge that sucketh all up ; like a funnel which receiveth at one end and dischargeth at the other ; like a strainer which letteth the wine pass but retaineth the lees ; and like a sieve which dischargeth the bran but retaineth the corn." To which of these shall we liken the Preacher ? We can only liken him to the " sieve." He is the good student who has sifted all the schemes and thoughts and pursuits of men, separating the wheat from the bran, teaching us to know the bran as bran, the wheat as wheat. It is a true " corn of heaven " which he offers us, and not any of the husks to obtain which reckless and prodigal man has often wasted his whole living, — husks which, though they have tlie form and line of wheat, have not its life and nutriment, and cannot therefore satisfy the keen hunger of the soul.
THE EPILOGUE. 266
Wc have now followed the sifting process to its close ; much bran lies about our feet, but a little corn is in our hands, and from this little there may grow " a harvest unto life." Stiirting in (^uest of that Chief Good in which, when once it is attained, we can rest with an unbroken and measureless content, we have learned that it is not to be found in Wisdom, in Pleasure, in Devotion to Business and I'ublic Affairs, in a modest Competence or in bomidless Wealth. We have learned that only he achieves this supreme Quest who is " charitable, dutiful, cheerful ; " only he who " by a wise use and a wise enjoyment of the pre- sent life prepares himself for the life which is to come." We have learned that the best incentives to this life of virtue, and its best safeguards, are a constant remembrance of our Creator and of His perpetual presence with us, and a constant hope of that future judgment in which all the wrongs of time are to be redressed and recompensed. And here we might think our task was ended. We might sup- pose that the Preacher would dismiss us from the School in which he has so long held us by his sage maxims, his vivid illustrations, his gracious warnings and encourage- ments. But even yet he will not suffer us to depart. He has still " words to utter for God," words which it will be well for us to hear. As in the Prologue prefixed to this Drama he had stated the Problem he was about to take in hand, so now he subjoins an Epilogue in which he rc-states that Solution of it at which he has arrived, llis last words
266 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 8, to
are, as we should expect them to be, heavily weighted with thought. So closely packed are his thoughts, indeed, as to give a disconnected and illogical tone to his words. Every saying seems to stand alone, complete in itself: and hence our main difhculty in dealing with this Epilogue is to trace the links of sequence which bind saying to saying, thought to thought, and, having traced, to bear them well in mind. Every verse supplies a text for patient meditation, or a theme which needs to be illustrated by historic facts that lie beyond the general reach : and the danger is lest, while dwelling on these separate themes and texts, we should fail to gather their connected meaning and to grasp the large conclusion to which they are all intended to conduct.
Coheleth commences (v. 8) by once more striking the key-note in which his whole work is set : "Vanity of vani- ties, saith the Preacher, all is vanity ! " We are not, how- ever, to take these words as announcing his deliberate ver- dict on the sum of human endeavours and affairs ; for he has now discovered the true abiding Good which underlies all the vanities of earth and time. His repetition of this familiar phrase is simply a touch of art by which the Poet reminds us of what the main theme of his Poem has been, of the pain and weariness and disappointment which have attended his long Quest. As it falls once more, and for the last time, on our ear, we cannot but remember how often, and in what connections, we have heard it before.
Chap XII. v. 9, THE EPILOGUE. 267
Memory and Imagination aro set to work. The whole course of the Sacred Drama passes swiftly before us, with its mournful pauses of defeated hope, as we listen to this echo of the despair with which the baffled Preacher has so often returned from seeking the true Good in first this and then that province of human life.
Having thus reminded us of the several stages of his Quest, and of the verdict which he had been compelled to pronounce at the close of each, Coheleth proceeds (v. 9) to set forth his qualifications for undertaking this sore task : " Not only was the Preacher wise, he also taught the people wisdom, and composed many parables with care and thought." His claims are that he is a sage, a public teacher, and an author ; his motive in setting them forth is doubtless simply that he may the more deeply impress upon us the conclusion to which he has come and which it has cost him so much to reach.
Now during the Captivity there was a singular outbreak of literary activity in the Hebrew race. As yet this crisis in their history is little studied and understood ; but we shall only follow the Preacher's meaning, in vv. 9 — 12, as we collect such information concerning it as we can. That a change of the most radical and extraordinary kind passed upon the Hebrews of this period, that they were by some means drawn to a study of the Sacred Writings infinitely more thorough and intense than any which went before it, we know : but of the causes of this change we are yet
268 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 9, to
ignorant.* A great, perliaps the greatest, living authorityf on this subject writes : " One of the most mysterious and momentous periods in the history of humanity is that brief space of the Exile. What were the influences brought to bear on the captives during that time, we know not. But this we know, that from a reckless, lawless, godless popu- lace, they returned transformed into a band of Puritans. The religion of Zerdusht (Zoroaster), though it has left its traces in Judaism, fails to account for that change. . . . Yet the change is there, palpable, unmistakable — a change which we may regard as almost miraculous. Scarcely
* In the Introduction, however, I have tried to give what is known of the history of this time, lloufj-hly speaking', I believe the Jews owe their literary advance to contact with the inquisitive and learned Babylonians, and their relig^ious advance to contact with the pure faitli of the primitive Persians.
t Emmanuel Deutsch. Tbe passage will be found in his article on " The Taliimd " in the Quarterly of October '67. No one could well bo more charmed with that masterly article than I was,or more indebted to it — indeed in this Chap- ter I shall often quote from it : nevertheless, I confess to bearing it some little grudge. For ten years now, under every disadvantage and with infinite diffi- culty, I have been collecting the gnomic sayings of the Talmud — I printed a score or two of them eighteen months ago {Christiayi Spectator, December 'GG) ; and here came one of the most learned scholars of Europe and carelessly Hung down out of his profuse wealth most of my special treasures, making me feel poor indeed ! Only about half-a-dozen of the sayings I had painfully collected will now have any stamp of novelty upon them ; and these are so noblo in thought and expression that the only wonder is Deutsch left even one of them behind him. To the lover of proverbs let me specially commend the sayings, than which I know none more perfect, on the four kinds of students, on new and old flasks, on not serving God for the sake of reward, and on doing God's \vill as though it were ours : they will all be found in this Chapter, as will many more with which Deutsch has already enriched fhem.
Chap. XII. V. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 209
aware before of the existence of their glorious national literature, the people now began to press round these brands plucked from the lire — the scanty records of their faith and history — with a fierce and passionate love, a love stronger even than that of wife and child. These same documents, as they were gradually formed into a canon, became the imnuitablc centre of their lives, their actions, their thoughts, their very dreams. From that time forth, with scarcely any intermission, the keenest as well as the most poetical minds of the nation remained fixed upon them."
The more we think of this change, the more the wonder grows. Good kings and inspired prophets had desired to see the nation devoted to the Word of God, had spent their lives in vain endeavours to recall the thought and affection of their race to the Sacred Records in which the Will of God was revealed. But what they failed to do was done when the inspiration of the Almighty was with- drawn and the voice of Prophecy had grown mute. In their Captivity, under the strange wrongs and miseries of their Exile, the Jews remembered God their Maker, Giver of Songs in the night. They betook themselves to the study of the Sacred Oracles. They began to acquaint themselves with all wisdom that they might define and illustrate whatever was obscure in the Scriptures of their fathers. They commenced that elaborate systematic Com- mentary of which many noble fragments are still extant. They drew new truths from the old letter, or from the
270 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 9, to
collocation of scattered passages, — as, for instance, the truths of the immortality of the soul and of the resurrec- tion of the body. They laid the hidden foundations of the Synagogues and Schools which afterwards covered their land. Ezra and Nehemiah who, by grace of the Persian conquerors, led them back from Babylonia to Jerusalem are still claimed as the founders of the Great Synagogue, i.e. as the leaders of that great race of jurists, teachers, authors whose utterances are still a law in Israel, and of whom the Lawyers and Scribes of tlie New Testament w^ere more modern successors. Before the Captivity there was not a term for " school " in their language ; there were at least a dozen in common use within two or three centuries after the accession of Cyrus. Education had become compulsory. Its immense value in the popular judgment is marked in innumerable popular sayings such as these : " Jerusalem was destroyed because the education of the young was neglected ; " " Even for the rebuilding of the Temple the schools must not be interrupted ; " " Study is more meritorious than sacrifice ; " "A scholar is greater than a prophet : " " You should revere the teacher even more than your father ; the latter only brought you into this world, the former shows you the way into the next." To meet the national craving expressed in these and similar proverbs, innumerable copies of the Sacred Books, of commentaries and traditions and the gnomic utterances of the wise, were written and circulated, of which, in the
Chap, XII. v. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 271
Canon, in some of the Apocryphal Scriptures, in the works of rhilo, and in the legal and legendary sections of the Talmud, some specimens have come down to us. In short, whatever was the cause of this marvellous outburst, there can be no doubt that the whole Eabbinical period was characterized by a devotion to learning, a mental and lite- raiy activity, much more general and intense than it is easy for us to conceive.
In such an age the words of a professed and acknow- ledged " Sage" would carry gi*eat weight. If besides being "wise," he were a recognized "Teacher," a man whose wisdom was stamped by public and official approval, whatever fell from his lips would command public attention. For these teachers or " rabbis " were the real rulers of the time, and not the pharisees or the priests. They did not scruple to jest at the ignorance or licence of the priests, at the bare- faced hypocrisy of many of the pharisees. They might be, they often were, "tent-makers, sandal-makers, weavers, car2)enters, tanners, bakers, cooks," for it is among their highest claims to our respect that these learned rabbis re- verenced labour, however menial and toilsome, that they held mere scholarship and piety of little worth unless con- joined with regular and healthy pliysical exertion. But however toilsome their lives, or humble their circumstances, these " Wise Men " were " Masters of the Law." It was their special function to interpret the Law of IMoscs — which, remember, was the law of the land — to explain its bearing
272 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 9.
on this case or that ; and, as members of the local courts or of the metropolitan Sanhedrin, to administer the law they expounded. An immense power, therefore, was in their hands. To obey the law was to be at once loyal and reli- gious, happy here and hereafter. And therefore the rabbis, whose business it was to apply the law to all the details of life, and whose decisions were authoritative and final, could not fail to command universal deference and respect. They were Lawyers, Judges, Schoolmasters, Heads of Colleges, Public Orators and Lecturers, Statesmen and Preachers, all in one or all in turn, and therefore concen- trated on themselves the respect which we distribute on many offices and many men.
Such a Eabbi was Coheleth. He was of "the Wise ;" he was a "Master of the Law." And, in addition to these claims, he was also an Author who had " composed many parables with care and thought." Than this latter he could hardly have any higher claim to the regard, and even to the affection, of the Hebrew public. We all know the passion- ate attachment of Oriental races to fables, to stories of any and every kind. And the Jews for whom Coheleth wrote took, as was very natural at such a time, an extraordinary delight, extraordinary even for the East, in listening to and repeating the proverbs, parables, poems of their national authors. Some of these are still in our hands ; as we read them, we cease to wonder at the intense enjoyment with which they were received by a generation not cloyed, as we
Chap. XII. v. 9. THE EPILOGUE. 273
are, with books. They are not only charming as works of art ; tliey have also this charm, that they convey moral instruction. Take a few of these pictorial proverbs: "The house that does not open to the poor will open to the phy- sician." "Commit a sin twice, and you will begin to think it quite allowable." " The reward of good works is like dates — sweet, and ripening late." " Even when the gates of prayer are shut in heaven, the gate of tears is open." " When the righteous dies, it is the earth that loses : the lost jewel is still a jewel, but he who has lost it — well may he weep." " "Wlio is wise ? He who is willing to learn from all men. Wlio is strong ? He who subdues his passions- Who is rich ? He that is satisfied with his lot." All these, as you will admit, are happy expressions of profound moral truths. But the Eabbis are capable of putting a keener edge on their words ; they can utter witty epigrams as sharp and incisive as those of any of our modern satirists, and yet use their wit in the service of good sense and morality. It would not be easy to match, it would be very hard to beat, such sayings as these : " The sun will go down by itself without your help." "When the ox is down, many are the butchers." " Tlie soldiers fight, and the kings arc the heroes." " The camel wanted horns, and they took . away his ears." " The cock and the owl both wait for morning: the light brings joy to me, says the cock, but what are you waiting for ? " " When the pitcher falls on the stone, woe to the pitcher ; when the stone falls on the
18
274 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 9.
pitcher, woe to the pitcher : whatever happens, woe to the pitcher." " Look not at the flask, but at that which is in it ; for there are new flasks full of old wine, and old flasks which have not even new wine in them : " — ah, of how many of these " old flasks " have some of us had to drink or seem to drink ! AVhen the Eabbis draw out their moral at greater length, when they tell a stoiy, their skill does not desert them. Here is one of the briefest ; it will remind you of more than one of the parables uttered by the Great Teacher Himself : " There was once a king who bade all his servants to a great repast, but did not name the hour. Some went home and put on their best garments, and came and stood at the door of the palace. Others said, ' There is time enough, the king will let us know beforehand.' But the king summoned them of a sudden ; and those that came in their best garments were well received, but the foolish ones, who came in their slovenliness, were turned away in disgrace. Kepent ye to-day, lest ye be summoned to-morrow."
Do you wonder that the Jews, even in the sorrows of their Captivity, liked to hear such proverbs and parables as these ? that they had an immense and grateful admira- tion for the men who spent much care and thought on the composition of these wise beautiful sayings ? Would not you be glad to hear them when the day's work was done, or even while it was doing ? If then such an one as Coheleth — a Sage, a Iiabbi, a Composer of proverbs and
Chap XII. v. 9, THE EPILOGUE. 275
parables — came to them and said, " My children : I have sought what you arc all seeking ; I have been in quest of that Cliief Good wliich you now pursue ; and I will tell you the stoiy of the Quest in the parables and proverbs which you are so fond of hearing : " — we can surely under- stand that they would be charmed to listen, that they would hang upon his words, that they would be predisposed to accept his conclusions. As they listened, and found that he was telling them their own story no less than his, that he was trying to lead them away from the vanities which they themselves knew to be vanities toward an abiding Good in which he had found rest : as they heard him enforce the duties of charity, industry, hilarity — duties which all their rabbis urged upon them, and invite them to that wise use and wise enjoyment of the present life which their own consciences approved : above all, as he unfolded before them the bright hope of a future judgment in which all wrongs would be redressed and all acts of duty receive a great recompence of reward, — would they not hail him as the wisest of their teachers, as the great rabbi who had achieved the supreme Quest of life ? Assuredly few books were, or are, more popular than the book Ecclesiastes. Its presence and influence are felt in every subsequent age and department of Hebrew Literarure ; it has entered into our English Literature hardly less deeply. Many of its verses are simply familiar to us as household words. Brief as the Book is, I am disposed to think it better known to us
18*
276 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 10, to
than any other of the Old Testament Books except Genesis, the Psalter, and the prophecies of Isaiah. Job is an incom- parably finer as it is a much longer poem ; but I doubt whether most of us could not quote at least two verses from the shorter for every one we could repeat from the longer Book. We can very easily understand therefore that the Wise Preacher, as he himself assures us (v. 10), bestowed on this Sacred Drama no less care and thought than he had given to other Parables ; that he had made diligent search for " words of comfort " by which he might solace and strengthen the hearts of his oppressed brethren, and that, having found his comfortable words, he " wrote them down " with a frank sincerity and " uprightness."
From this description of the motives which had impelled him to publish the results of his thought and experience, and of the spirit in which he had composed this beautiful Parable, Coheleth passes (in v. 11) to a description of the twofold function of the Teacher, which is really a marvellous little poem in itself, a pastoral cut on a gem. That function is on the one hand conservative, and on the other progressive. At times the Teacher's words are " like goads " with which the herdsmen prick on their cattle to new pastures, correcting them when they loiter or stray : at other times they are like the " stakes " which the shep- herds drive into the ground when they pitch their tents on pastures where they intend to abide. " The words of tJie Wise" says Coheleth, " are like goads ; " and " the Wise "
Chap. XII. v. II. THE EPILOGUE. 277
was a technical term for the sage teachers and masters who interpreted and administered the Law : while the words of " the Masters of the Assemblies are like fixed stakes," " jMasters of Assemblies " being a technical name for the heads of the colleges and schools which, during the llabbinical period, were to be found in every town, and in almost every hamlet, of Judaea. The same man might, and commonly tlid, bear both titles ; and in all probability Coheleth himself was both of the Wise and the Master of an Assembly.
What did these Masters teach ? Everything almost, — at least everything then kno^vn. It is true that their main function was to interpret and enforce the Law of Moses ; but this function demanded all science for its adequate fulfilment. Take a simple illustration. The Law says, " Thou shalt not kill." Here, if ever, is a plain and simple statute, with no ambiguities, capable of no misconstruction or evasion. Anybody may remember it, and know what it means. May they ? I am not so sure of that. The Law says I am not to kill. What ! not in self-defence ? not to save honour from outrage ? not in a patriotic war ? not to save my homestead from the freebooter, or my household from the midnight thief ? not when my kinsman is slain before my eyes and in my defence ? Many similar questions might be asked, and were asked, by the Jews. The Master had to consider such cases as these ; to study the recorded and traditional verdicts of previous judges,
278 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 11.
the glosses and comments of previous Masters ; he had to lay down rules and to apply rules to particular and excep- tional cases, just as our English judges have to define the Common Law or to interpret a Parliamentary Statute. The growing wants of the Commonwealth, the increasing complexity of the relations of life as the people of Israel came in contact with foreign races or were carried into captivity in strange lands, necessitated new laws, new rules of conduct. And as there was no despot to issue his decree, and no Parliament to pass an Act, the wise Masters, learned in the Law of God, were compelled to lay down these rules and laws, to extend and develop the ancient Mosaic Statutes till they covered modern cases and wants. Thus, in this very Book, Coheleth gives the rules which shoidd govern a wise pious Jew in the new relations of Traffic (chap. iv. vv. 4 — 16), and in the service of foreign despots (chap. x. vv. 1 — 20). For such contingencies as these the Law of Moses made no provision : and therefore the Rabbis, who sat in Moses' chair, made provision for them by legislating in the spirit of the Law.
Even in the application of known laws there was need for care, and science, and thought. " The Mosaic Code has injunctions about the Sabbatical journey ; the distance had to be measured and calculated, and mathematics were called into play. Seeds, plants, and animals had to be studied in connection with many precepts regarding them, and natural history had to be appealed to. Then there were the purely
Chap. XII. v. II. THE EPILOGUE. 279
hygienic paragraphs, which necessitated for their precision a knowledge of all the medical science of the time. The ' seasons ' and the feast-days were regulated by the phases of the moon ; and astronomy, if only in its elements, had to be studied." * As the Hebrews came successively into con- tact with Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Eomans, the poli- tical and religious systems of these foreign races could not fail to leave some impressions on their minds, and that these impressions might not be erroneous and misleading, it became the Master to acquaint himself with the results of foreign thought. Nay, " not only was science, in its widest sense, required of him, but even an acquaintance with its fantastic shadows, such as astrology, magic, and the rest, in order that he, as both law-giver and judge, should be able to enter into the popular feeling about these widespread ' arts,' " and wisely control it.
The proofs that this varied knowledge was acquired and patiently applied to the study of the Law by the Masters in Israel are still with us in many learned sayings and essays of that time ; and in all these essays the conservative temper is sufficiently prominent. Their leading aim evi- dently was to honour the Law of Moses ; to preserve its spirit even in the new rules which the changed circumstances of the time imperatively required : to iix
* Deutscb on ' The Talmud ' in the Qunrfirli/.
280 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 11.
their stakes and pitch their tents in the old fields of thought.
But, on the other hand, the signs of progress are no less
obvious. Through all this mass of learned and deferential
comment on the Mosaic Code there perpetually crop up
sayings which savour of the Gospel rather than of the Law
— sayings that denote a great advance of thought. " Study
is better than sacrifice," for instance, must have been a very
surprising proverb to the backward-looking Jew. It is only
one of many Kabbinical sayings conceived in the same spirit;
but would not the priests, for example, listen to it with
the wry clouded face of grave suspicion ? So when Rabbi
Hillel, anticipating the Golden Eule, said, " Do not unto
another what thou wouldest not have another do unto thee :
this is the whole law, the rest is mere commentary," the
sticklers for ceremonies and sacrifices, fasts and feasts, could
hardly fail to be shocked : they would think the venerable
Master had hardly shown his usual wisdom in uttering
words which might so easily be abused. So, too, when Eabbi
Antigonous said, " Be not as men who serve their master
for the sake of reward, but be like men who serve not
looking for reward ; " or when Rabbi Gamaliel said, " Do
God's will as if it were thy will, that He may accomphsh
thy will as if it were His," many no doubt would feel that
they were listening to very novel, and perhaps dangerous,
doctrine. Nor could they fail to sec that new fields of
thought were being thrown open to them when Rabbi
Chap. XII. v. 11. THE EPILOGUE. 281
Coheleth — if we may for once use Coheleth as a proper name — affirmed the future judgment and the future life of men. Such " words " as these were " goads," correcting the errors of previous thought and urging men on to new pastures of truth and godliness.
Sometimes, as I have said, the progressive Sage and the conservative Master would be united in the same person ; for there are teachers who can " stand on the old ways " and yet " look for the new." But often, no doubt, the two would be divided and opposed then as now. For in thought, as in politics, there are always two great parties ; the one looking back with affectionate regret on the past and set to " keep invention in a noted weed," the other looking forward with eager hope and desire to the future, attached to "new-found methods and to compounds strange ;" the one bent on conserving as much as possible of the large heritage which our fathers have bequeathed us, the other bent on leaving a new and fairer inheritance to those that shall be after them. Each of these classes has its special danger, and is sorely tempted to undervalue the other. The danger of the conservative thinker is that ho may hold the debts which our fathers have bequeathed us with the estate as part of the estate, that he may set him- self against all liquidations, all better jnethods of manage- ment, against improvement in every form. The danger of the progressive thinker is that, in his ambition to enlarge and improve the estate, he may break violently from the
282 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 11, to
past and cast away many heirlooms and treasures that would add to our wealth. The one is too apt to pitch his tents in familiar fields long after they are barren ; the other is too apt to drive men on from old pastures to new before the old are exhausted or the new ripe. And surely there never was a larger or more tolerant heart than that of the Preacher who has taught us that both these classes of men and teachers, both the conservative thinker and the pro- gressive thinker, are of God and have a useful function to discharge : that both the Shepherd who loves his tent and the Herdsman who loves his goad, both the Sage who urges us forward and the Sage who holds us back are servants of the one Great Pastor, and owe whether goad or tent-stake to Him. Simply to entertain the thought widens and raises our minds : to have conceived it and thrown it into that perfect form proves the Sacred Preacher to have been all he claims to be and more, — not only Sage, Teacher, Author, but also a true poet and a true man of God.
It is to be observed however that our accomplished Sage limits the province of mental activity on either hand (v. 12). His children, his disciples — "my son" was the rabbi's customary term for his pupil as "rabbi," my father, was the name by which the pupil addressed his master — are to beware both of the " many books " of the making of which there was then " no end," and of that over-addic- tion to study which was " a wfeariness to the flesh." Tlic latter caution, the warning against " much study " was
Chap. XII. v. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 283
simply a result of that sense of the sanitary value of physical labour by which, as we have seen, the Masters in Israel were profoundly impressed. They held physical toil and exercise to be good for the soul as well as for the body, a safeguard against the dreamy abstract moods and the vague fruitless reveries which rather relax than brace the intellectual fibre, and which tend to a moral languour all the more perilous because its approaches are masked under the semblance of mental occupation. They knew that those who attempt or affect to be " creatures too bright and good for human nature's daily food " are apt to sink below the common level rather than to rise above it. They did not want their disciples to resemble many of the young men who lounged through the philosophic schools of Greece, and who, though always ready to discuss the " first true, first perfect, first fair," did nothing to help forward the progi-ess of man or to raise the tone of common life ; young men, as Epictetus bitterly remarked of some of his disciples, whose philosophy lay in their cloaks and tongues rather than in any wise conduct of their daily lives or any endea- vour to better the world. It was their aim to develop the whole man — body, soul, and spirit; to train up useful citizens as well as accomplished scholars, to spread the love of wisdom through the whole nation rather tlian to produce a separate learned class. And in the prosecu- tion of this aim they enjoined neither the exercises of the ancient pala?stra, nor athletic sports like those now in
284 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 12.
vogue at our universities, which are often a mere waste of good muscle, but useful and productive toils. They believed, not in " the gospel of the cricket-bat," but in the gospel of the plough and the spade, the plane and the axe, the hammer and the trowel ; and saved their disciples from the weariness of overtaxed brains by requiring them to become skilled artizans and to labour heartily in their callings.
Nor is the caution against " many books," at which learned Commentators have taken grave offence, the illiberal sentiment it has often been pronounced. For no doubt Coheleth, like other wise Hebrews, was fully prepared to study whatever science would throw light on the Divine Law or teach men how to live. Mathematics, astronomy, natural history, medicine, casuistry, the modern and religious systems of the East and the West, — some know- ledge of all these various branches of learning was neces- sary, as I have shown, to those who had to interpret the minute and complex statutes of the Mosaic Code, and to supplement them with rules appropriate to the new con- ditions of the time. In these and kindred studies the rabbis were " masters ; " and what they knew they taught. That which distinguished them from other men equally learned was that they did not " love knowledge simply for its own sake," but for an end higher than itself — the moral good of their race. Like Socrates, they were not content with a purely intellectual cidture, but sought a wisdom
Chap. XII. v. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 286
that would mingle with the blood of men and mend their ways, a wisdom that would hold their baser passions in check, energize the higher moods and aptitudes of the soul, and make duty their supreme aim and delight. To secure this great end they knew no method so likely to prove effectual as an earnest, and even an exclusive, study of the Sacred Scriptures in which they thought they had " eternal life," i.e. the life which is unaffected by the shocks and vicissitudes of time. Whatever studies would illuminate and illustrate these Scriptures they pursued and encouraged ; whatever might divert attention from these they discouraged and condemned. Many of them, as we learn from the Talmud, refused to wTite down their Gwrv discourses in the Schools and Synagogues lest, by making / books of their own, they should withdraw attention from X the Sacred Books inspired of Heaven. It was better, they thought, to read the Scriptures than any commentary on the Scriptures ; and therefore they confined themselves to oral instruction : even their profoundest and most charac- teristic sayings would have perished had not " fond tradi- tion babbled " of them for many an age to come.
If the sentiment which dictated this course were in part a mistaken sentiment, it surely sprung from a noble motive. For no ordinance could be more self-denying to a learned class than that which forbade them to put on record the results of their researches, the conclusions of their wisdom, and thus to win name and fame and use in after genera-
286 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 12.
tions. But was their course, after all, one which calls for censure ? Has the world ever produced a literature of so lofty a tone, so pure and heroic in its animating spirit, as that of the Hebrew Prophets and Psalmists ? Would not the world be infinitely sweeter and better than it is had these ancient Scriptures been studied before all and above all uninspired writings, if they had been brooded over and wrought into the minds of men till " the life " in them had been assimilated and reproduced ? The man who has had a classical or scientific education, and profited by it, must be an ingrate indeed, unless he be the slave of some domi- nant crotchet, if he do not hold in grateful reverence the great masters at whose feet he has sat : but the man who has really found " life " in the Scriptures must be more and worse than an ingrate if he does not feel that mental culture is a small good when compared with the treasures of an eternal life, if he does not admit that the main object of all education should be to conduct men through a course of intellectual training which shall culminate in a moral and spiritual discipline. To be wise is much ; but how much more is it to be good ! Better be a child in the ] kingdom of heaven than a philosopher or a prophet hanging vaguely about its outskirts.
If any of us still suspect the Preacher's words of illiber- ality, and say: "There was no need to oppose the one Book to the many, and to depreciate these in order to magnify that," we have only to consider the historical
Chap. XII. v. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 287
circumstances in which he wrote in order to acquit him of the charge. For a long series of years tlie Holy Scriptures had been neglected by the Jews ; copies had grown scarce and were hidden away in obscure nooks in which they were hard to find : some of the inspred books had been lost and have not been recovered to this day.* The people were ignorant of their own history, and law, and hope. Suddenly they were awaked from the slumber of indifference to find themselves in a night of ignorance. During the miseries of the Captivity a longing for the Divine Word was quickened within them. They were eager to acquaint themselves with the Revelation which they had neglected and forgotten. And their teachers, the few men who knew and loved the Word, set themselves to deepen and satisfy the craving. They multiplied copies of the Scriptures, circulated them, explained them in the Schools, exhorted from them in the Synagogue. And till the people were familiar with the Scriptures, the wiser rabbis would not write books of their own, nor encourage the reading of the many books bred by the
• Among tho " lost books " of the Old Testament are " the Book of Jasher " cited in Joshua x. 12, 13, and 2 Sam. i. 18 ; Nathan's and Gad's Biographies of David mentioned in 1 Chron. xxix. 29, as "the Book of Nathan tho Prophet " and " tho Book of Gad the Seer; " and three works connected with the life of Solomon— his "Acta," as narrated in "the Book of Nathan, in the Prophecy of Ahijah the Shilonite, and in the Visions of Iddo tho Seer," 2 Chron. ix. 2y.
288 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 12.
revived literary activity of the time. It was the very feeling which preceded and accompanied our English Ee- formation. Then the newly-discovered Bible threw all other books into the shade. The people thirsted for the pure Word of God ; and the leaders of the Reformation were well content that they should read nothing else till they had read that : that they should leave all other fountains to drink of " the river of life." The translation and circulation of the Scriptures was the one work, almost the exclusive work, to which they bent their energies. Like the Jewish rabbis, Tyndall and his fellow-labourers did not care to write books themselves, nor wish the people to read the books they were compelled to write in self-defence. There is a remarkable passage in Fryth's " Scripture Doctrine of the Sacrament " in which, replying to Sir Thomas More who led the opposition to the new movement, the Reformer says : " This hath been offered you, is offered, and shall be offered. Grant that the Word of God, I mean the text of Scripture, may go abroad in our English tongue . . . and my brother Tyndall and I have done and will promise you to write no more. If you will not grant this condition, then will we be doing while we have breath, and show in few words that the Scripture doth in many, and so at the least save some." The Hebrew Reformers of the time of Colieleth were animated by precisely the same lofty and generous motive. They were content to be nothing that the Word
Chap. XII. v. 12. THE EPILOGUE. 289
of God might be all for all. " The Bible, and the Bible only," they conceived to be the want of their age and race ; and therefore they were content to forego the honours of authorship and the study of many branches of learning which otherwise they would have been glad to pursue, and besought their disciples to concentrate all their thoughts on the one Book which was able to make them wise unto salvation. Learned themselves, and often profoundly learned, it was no contempt for learning which actuated them, but a devout godliness and the fervours of a most self-denying piety.
" Does not the Preacher break his own rule ? He at all events adds one to the ' many books ' which already existed, a book the true meaning of which cannot be apprehended without ' much study ' and such study as is at times weari- some to the flesh." No, he does not break his rule. For, first of all, his book is a Scripture ; it is inspired by one and the selfsame Spirit with those elder Scriptures to which he would have his disciples devote their energies. And, then, besides being a Scripture, it served to explain other Scriptui-es ; to teach men how their lives might be ordered by the law of God. In this Book there are both the words of a conservative Master and the words of a progressive Sage ; both words which applied the Divine Law to the details of human life and words which opened up new and broader views of human life ; words which threw new light both upon the past and the future. It was
10
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only against "what was more than these," only against words and books which neither explained the bearing of the Divine Law on human action nor extended the bound- aries of human thought until they embraced the whole counsel of God, that the Preacher raised his protest. For the present need he thought it well that his disciples should restrict their studies to the Inspired Word ; but within the limits of that Word they were to seek things both new and old. A rabbi conscious of no special inspi- ration from heaven might well scruple to add even one to the many books which were already abroad ; but a rabbi who felt that the Divine Spirit had taught him so to marshal the facts of human life as to help his brethren out of their perplexities and guide them in their Quest of the Chief Good was surely bound to give them the wisdom God had given to him.
So far the Epilogue seems a mere digression, not without interest and value indeed, but having no vital connection with the main theme of the Poem. It tells us that the Preacher was a Sage, a recognized official Teacher, the Master of an Assembly, a Doctor of laws, an Author who had expended much labour on the composition of many parables, a conservative " Shepherd " pitching his tent on familiar fields of thought, a progressive " Herdsman " goading men on to new pastures.* If we are glad to know
* The reader will not fail to note that the titles here assumed by Coheleth
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 291
SO much of him, we cannot but ask, Wliat has all this to do with the Quest of the Chief Good ? It has this to do with it. Coheleth has achieved that quest : lie has solved his problem and given us his solution of it. He is about to repeat that solution. To give emphasis and force to the repetition, that he may carry his readers more fully with him, he dwells on his claims to their respect, their confi- dence, their affection. He is all that they most admire ; he has the very authority to which they most willingly defer. If they know this — and, scattered as the Jews wore through many cities and provinces, most of them could not know it unless he told them — they cannot refuse him a hearing ; they wiU be pre-disposed to accept his conclusion ; they will be sure not to reject it without grave consideration and regret. It is not out of any personal conceit therefore, nor any pride of learning, that he recites his titles of honour. He is simply gathering force from the willing respect and deference of his readers in order that he may plant his final conclusion more strongly and more deeply in their hearts.
And what is the conclusion which he is at such pains to enforce ? " The conclusion of the whole matter is this : that God taketh cognizance of all tilings : Fear God,
are inconsistent with the Solomonic authorship of the Book, as is indeed tl;e whole tone and spirit of the Epilo^i^e ; while, on the other hand, tone, spirit, titles, all iigToe \nth and confinn the theory of a later and Rabbinical authorship.
10*
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therefore, and keep His commandments, for this it behoveth all men to ; since God will bring every deed to the judg- ment appointed for every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be bad " (w. 13, 14).
Now that this " conclusion " is simply a repetition, in part expanded and in part condensed, of that with which the Preacher closes the previous Section is sufficiently obvious. Tlure he incites men to a life of virtue with two leading motives : first, by the fact of the present constant judgment of God ; and, secondly, by the prospect of a future, a more searching and decisive, judgment. Here he appeals to precisely the same motives, though now, instead of imply- ing the present judgment of God under the injunction " Eemember thy Creator," he broadly affirms " that God taketh cognizance of all things ;" and, instead of simply reminding the young that God will bring " the ways of their heart " into judgment, he defines that future judg- ment at once more largely and more exactly as " appointed for every secret thing" and extending to "every deed," whether these be good or bad. In dealing with the motives of a virtuous life, therefore, he a little goes beyond his former lines of thought, gives them a wider scope, makes them more sharp and definite. On the other hand, in speaking of the forms which a virtuous life should assume, he is very curt and brief All he has to say on that point now is, " Fear God and keep His commandments :" whereas in his previous treatment of it he had had much to
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 293
say, — bidding us, for instance, " cast our bread upon the waters," and "give a portion thereof to seven, and even to eight :" bidding us " sow our seed morning and evening " though "the clouds" shoidd "be full of rain" and what- ever " the course of the wind ;" bidding us " rejoice " in all our labours, and carry to all our self-denials a merry medicinal heart. As we studied the meaning of the many beautiful figures of the Eleventh Chapter, as we sought to gather up their several meanings into an orderly connection and to express them in a more literal logical form — to trans- late them, in short, from the Eastern to the Western mode, — we found that the main virtues enjoined by the Preacher ^ were charity, industry, cheerfulness : the charity which does good hoping for nothing again, the industry which bends itself to the present duty in scorn of omen or consequence, and the cheerfulness which springs from a consciousness of the Divine presence, from the convic- tion that, however men may misjudge us, God knows us altogether and will one day reveal the secrets of all hearts. This was our summary of the Preacher's argument, of his solution of the supreme moral problem of life. Here, in the Epilogue, he gives us his own summary in the words : " Fear God, and keep Ilis commandments."
If we compare these two summaries, there seems at first rather difference than resemblance between them : the one appears, if more indefinite, much more comprehensive than the other. Yet there is one point of resemblance which
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soon strikes us. For we know very well that on the Preacher's lips " Fear God " does not mean " Be afraid of God ;" that it indicates and demands just that reverent sense of the Divine Presence, that strong inward convic- tion of the constant judgment God passes on all our ways and motives and thoughts, which Coheleth has already affirmed to be a prime safeguard of virtue. It is the phrase " keep His commandments " which sounds so much larger than anything we have heard from him before, so much more comprehensive. Por the commandments of God are many and very broad. He reveals His will in the natural laws which govern the universe, and which, inasmuch as we are part of the universe, we need to know and to obey. He reveals His wiU in the social and po- litical forces which govern the history and development of the various races of mankind, which therefore meet and affect us at every turn. He reveals His will in the moral codes which govern the formation of inward character, which enter into and give shape to all in us that is most spiritual, profound, enduring. To keep all the command- ments revealed in these immense provinces of Divine action with an intelligent and an invariable obedience is simply impossible to us : it is the perfection which ilows round our imperfection, and towards which it is our one great task to reach forth and will always be our task. Is it as inciting us to this impossible perfection that the Preacher bids us " Pear God and keep His commandments " ?
CuAV. XII. V. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 295
Yes and No. It is not as having this large perfect ideal distinctly before his mind that he utters his injunc- tion, nor even as having so much of it in his mind as is expressed in the complex law that came by INIoses — in which, as you will remember, there are precepts for tlie l)hysical and political as well as for the moral and religious life. What he meant by bidding us " keep the command- ments " was, I apprehend, that we should take the counsels he has already given us, and follow after charity, industry, cheerfulness. Every other phrase in this final "conclu- sion of the whole matter " is, as we have seen, a repetition of the truths announced at the close of the previous Sec- tion, and therefore we may fairly assume this phrase to contain a truth — the truth of duty — which he there illus- trates. Throughout the whole Book there is not a single technical allusion, no allusion to the temple, to the feasts, to the sacrifices, rites, ceremonies of the Law : and there- fore we can hardly take this reference to God's "com- mandments " as an allusion to the Mosaic code. By the rules of fair inteq^rctation we are compelled to take these commandments as previously defined by the Preacher himself, to understand him as once more enforcing the virtues which he has already suggested as comprising the whole duty of man.
Do we thus limit and degrade the moral ideal, or repre- sent him as degrading and limiting it ? By no means. For to love our neighbour, to discharge the present duty
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whatever rain may fall and whatever storm may blow, to carry a bright cheerful spirit to all our toils and acts of goodwill ; to do this in the fear of God, as in His presence, because He is judging us and will judge us, involves all that is, included in the loftiest ideal of moral duty and perfection. For how are we to be cheerful and dutiful and kind except as we obey the commandments of God whether these commandments be revealed in the physical universe, or in the history of man, or in his spiritual culture and progress ? The diseases which result from a violation of sanitary laws, as also the ignorance or the wilfulness or the impotence which lead us to violate social or moral laws, of necessity and by natural consequence impair our cheer- fulness, our strength for laborious duties, our neighbourly charity and goodwill. To live the life which the Preacher recommends on the inspiration of the motives which he supplies is therefore, in the largest and broadest sense, to keep all the commandments of God.
What advantage is there then in saying, " Be kind, be dutiful, be cheerful," over saying, " Obey all the laws of God, sanitary, social, moral " ? There is this great prac- tical advantage : that, while in the last resort the one rule of life is just as comprehensive as the other and just as difficult, it is more definite, more portable : it does not daunt us at the very outset with an unnerving sense of our own ignorance and weakness. It is the very advantage which our Lord's memorable summary, " Thou shalt love
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 297
the Lord thy God with all thy heart and thy neighbour as thyself," has over the Law and the Prophets. Bid a man keep the whole Mosaic code as interpreted by the prophets through a thousand years, and you set him a task so heavy, so hopeless, that he may well decline it : only to under- stand the bearing and harmony of the Mosaic statutes and to gather the sense in which the several prophets inter- preted them is the labour of a lifetime, a labour for which even the whole life of a trained scholar is insufficient. But bid him "Love God and man," and you give him a rule which his own conscience at once accepts and interprets, a rule which, if he be of a good heart and a willing mind, he will be able to apply to the details and problems of life as they arise. In like manner, if you say : " The true ideal of life is to be reached only by the man who comprehends and obeys all the laws of God as revealed in the physical universe, in the history of humanity, in the moral instincts and intuitions and discoveries of the race," you set him a task so stupendous that not only has no man ever been able to accomplish it, but to this day it remains unaccom- plished by the united wisdom and virtue of mankind. Say, on the other hand, " Do the duty of every hour as it passes, without fretting about future issues ; help your neighbour to do his duty or to bear his burden, even though he may never have helped you ; be blithe and cheerful when your work is hard and your neighbour is ungrateful or unkind," and you speak to his lieart, to his sense of what is just ami
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right and good. He can begin to practise your rule of life without preliminary and exhausting study of its meaning : and if he finds it work, as he assuredly will, he will be encouraged to make it his rule. He will soon discover indeed that it means more than he thought, that it includes much more than he saw in it at first, that it is very much harder to keep than he supposed ; but its depths and difficulties will open on him gradually, as he is able to bear them. If his heart now and then faint, if hand and foot falter, still God is with him, with him to help and reward as well as to judge ; and that conviction once in his mind is there for ever, a constant stimulus to thought, to obedience, to patience.
In nothing indeed does the wisdom of the inspired He- brew sages show its superiority over that of the other sages of antiquity more decisively than in its adaptation to the practical needs of men busied in the affairs of life, and with no learning and no leisure for the study of large intricate problems. If you read Confucius, for instance, or Plato, you cannot fail to be struck with their immense grasp of thought, or their profound learning, or even their moral enthusiasm : as you read, you will often meet with wise rules of life expressed in beautiful forms. And yet your mam feeling will be that they give you and men like you little help, that unless you had their rare endow- ments or could give yourself whoUy to the study of their works, you could hardly hope to learn what they have to
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 299
teach or to order your life by their rules. And that this feeling is just and accurate is proved by the histories of China and Greece. In China only students, only literati are so much as supposed to understand the moral system of Confucius ; the great bulk of the people have to be content mth a few rules and forms and rites which his disciples have dictated to them and of the moral bases of which they are utterly ignorant. In ancient Greece, as we aU know, the wisdom to which the great masters of anti- quity attained was only taught in the Schools to men who had addicted themselves to a philosophic life: even the natural and moral truths on which the popular mythology was founded were hidden in " mysteries " open only to the initiated few : while the great mass of the people were amused with fables which they misinterpreted and with rites which they soon degraded into licentious orgies. No man cared for tlieir souls: their mistakes were not cor- rected, their license met no rebuke. Their wise men made no endeavour to lift them to a height from which they might see that the whole of morality lay in the love of God and man — in charity, duty, cheerfulness. But it was far otherwise with the Hebrews and their sages. The holy men who were taught by the Holy Ghost, men such as the Preacher, confined themselves to no school or class, but carried their wisdom to the synagogue, to the market- place, to the popular assemblies and academies. Tliey invented no " mysteries," but brought down the mysteries
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of heaven to the understanding of the simple. Instead of engaging in lofty abstract speculations in which only the learned could follow them, they compressed the loftiest wisdom into plain moral rules which the unlettered could comprehend, and urged them to obedience by motives and promises which inflamed the popular heart. And they had their reward. The truths of God became familiar to all sorts and conditions of Hebrew men ; they became a factor, and the most influential factor, in the national life. Fishermen, carpenters, tent-makers, sandal-makers, publi- cans grew studious of the Divine Will and learned the secrets of peace. During the wonderful revival of literary and religious activity which followed the Exile in Babylon, every Hebrew child was compelled to attend a common school in which the Sacred Scriptures — almost their sole literature then — were taught by the ablest and most learned rabbis : in which, as we learn from the Talmud, the duty of leading a religious life in all outward con- ditions even to the poorest was impressed upon them, and the very virtues of the Preacher — the virtues of cha- rity, industry, cheerfulness — were enforced as the very soul of religion. Here, for example, is a legend from the Talmud, and it is only one of many like unto it, which illustrates and confirms all that I have said. — "A sage, while walking in a crowded market-place, suddenly en- countered the prophet Elijah, and asked him who, out of that vast multitude, would be saved. Whereupon the
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 301
Prophet first pointed out a weird-looking creature, a turn- key, ' because he was merciful to his prisoners,' and next two common-looking tradesmen who were walking through the crowd, pleasantly chatting together. The Sage in- stantly rushed after them, and asked them what were their saving works. But they, much puzzled, replied : ' We are but poor workmen who live by our trade. All that can be said for us is that we are always of a cheerful spirit, and are good-natured. "NVlien we meet anybody who seems sad we join him, and we talk to him and cheer him so long that he must forget his grief. And if we know of two people who have quarreled, we talk to them, and persuade them, until we have made them friends again. This is our whole life.' " It is simply impossible that such a legend should have sprung up in any ancient literature save that of the Jews. Had Confucius been asked to point out the man whom Heaven most approved, he would probably have replied, " The superior man is catholic, not sectarian ; he does not do to others what he would not have done to liimself ; " * " he is observant of the rules of Propriety ; " and
* Tliis partial anticipation of the Golden Rule will be found in the Con- fucian Analects, Book xv. chap, xxiii. " Tsze-kung: asked, .sayinpr, ' Is there one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one's life ?' The Master said, ' Is not reciprocity such a word ? What you do not want done to your- self, do not do to others.' " The same rule is given in another fonn in Book v. Chap. xi. of the Analects. The other phrases I have put into the sage's mouth arc quoted from the same work.
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lie would certainly have looked for him in a State official distinguished by his wise administration. Had any of the Greek sages been asked the same question, they would have found their perfect man in the philosopher who, raised above the common passions and aims of men, gave himself to the pursuit of an abstract and speculative wis- dom. Only a Hebrew would have looked for him in that low estate in which, by the wisdom of God and in His great humility, the one truly Perfect Man dwelt among us. And yet how that Hebrew legend charms us and com- mends itseK to us ! What a hope for humanity there is in the thought, that the poor weird-looking jailer who was merciful to his prisoners, and the kindly, industrious, cheerful working men, living by their craft, and incapable of regarding their diligence and good-nature as saving works, stood higher than priest or rabbi, philosopher or ruler ! How welcome and ennobling is the conviction that there are last who yet are first — last with men, first with God ; that turnkeys and artizans, even publicans and har- lots may draw nearer to Heaven than -sophist or flamen, sage or prince! Who so poor but that he has a little " bread " to cast on the thankless unreturning waters ? who so faint of heart but that he may sow a little " seed " even when the winds rave and the sky is full of clouds ? who so solitary and forlorn but that he may say a word of com- fort to a weeping neighbour or seek to make " two people who have quaiTeled friends again ? " And this is all that
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 303
the Preacher, all that God through the Preacher, asks of us.
All — yet even this is much ; even for this we shall need the help of constant and weighty motives : for it is not only occasional acts which are required of us, but settled tempers and habits of goodwill, diligence, cheerfulness ; and to love all men, to rejoice alway, to do our duty in all weathers and all moods is very hard to our weak, selfish, and easily-dejected natures. Does the Preacher supply us with such motives as we need ? He offers us two motives ; one in the present judgment, another in the future judg- ment of God. "God is with you," he says, "taking cognizance of all you do ; and you will soon be with God, to give Him an account of every secret' and every deed." But tJiat is an appeal to fear — is it not ? It is rather an appeal to love and hope. He has no thought of frightening us into obedience — for the obedience of fear is not worth having, is not obedience in the true sense ; but he is trying to win and allure us to obedience. For whatever terrors God's judgment or the future world may have for us, it is very certain that these terrors were in large measure unknown to the Jews. The Talmud knows nothing of " hell," nothing of an everlasting torture. Even the " Shcol" of the Old Testament Scriptures is simply the "under- world " in which the Jews thought the spirits of good men and bad were gathered after death. And to the Jews for whom Coheleth wrote the judgment of God, whether here
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or hereafter, would have singular and powerful attractions. They were in captivity to merciless and capricious despots who took no pains to understand their character, their habits, their modes of thought and worship — despots who had no sense of justice, no kindness, no ruth for slaves. For men thus oppressed and liopeless there would be an infinite comfort in the thought that God, the Great Euler and Disposer, knew them altogether, saw all their strug- gles to maintain His worship and to do His will, took note of every wrong they suffered, " was afflicted in all their afflictions ; " and would one day call both them and their oppressors to the bar at which all wrongs are righted, all services recompensed, all cruelty and unmercifulness avenged. Would it affright them, think you, to hear " that God taketh cognizance of all things," and has " appointed a judgment for every secret and every deed " ? Eather would not this be their strongest consolation, their brightest hope ? Would they not do their duty with a better heart, if they knew that God saw how hard it was ? Would they not show a more constant kindness to their neigh- bour, if they knew that God would openly reward every alms done in secret ? Would they not carry a blither and more patient spirit to all their labours and sufferings, if they knew that a day of recompenses was at hand ? The Preacher thought they would : and hence he bids them " rejoice," bids them " banish care and sadness," lecmtse God will bring them into judgment, and incites them to
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 306
" keep the commandments " because God's eye is on tliem, and because, in the judgment, He will not forget the work of their obedience, the labour of their love.
This to some of us may be a novel view whether of the present or of the future judgment of God. For the most part, I fear, we speak of the Divine judgments as terrible and well-nigh unendurable. "We would escape them even here, if we could ; but, above all, we dread them when we shall stand before the bar at which the secrets of all hearts will be disclosed. Now we need not, and we must not, lose aught of that awe and reverence for Him who is our God and Father which, so far from impairing, deepens our love. But we need to remember that fear is base, that it is the enemy of love ; that so long as we anticipate the Divine judgments only or mainly with dread, we are far from the love which alone gives value to obedience ; and that, if we are to be good and happy, we must " shut out fear with all the strength of hope." What is it that we fear ? Suffering ! But why should we fear that if we shall be the better and happier for it ? Death ! But why should we fear that if it will take us home to our Father ? God's anger ! But God is not angry with us if we love Him and try to do His will ; He loves us even when we sin against Him, and shows His love in making our sin so hard and painful to us that we can know no peace till we have cast it away. We are to guard against sin lest we should be judged here and now ; but, says St. Paul, " when we are
20
306 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 13, to
judged, we are cliastened tliat we should not be con- demned." Is it not better to be chastened than condemned ? Shall we dread, shall we not rather desire, the judgment by which we are purified and saved ?
" But the future judgment — that is so dreadful !" Is it ? God knows us as we are already : is it so very much worse that we should know ourselves and that our neighbours should know us ? If among our " secrets " there be many things evil — are there not some good ? Do we not find ourselves perpetually thwarted or hindered in our endea- vours to give form and scope to our best feelings, to our kindest tenderest sympathies, to our loftiest resolves ? Do we not perpetually complain that when we would do good, even if evil is not present to overcome the good, it is present to mar it, to make our goodness poor, scanty, ungraceful ? Well, these obstructed purposes and inten- tions and resolves, all the good in us that has been frus- trated or deformed by ova social conditions, by our lack of power, culture, expression, by the clogging flesh or by the flagging brain, — all these are among " the secret things " which God will bring to light ; and we may be very sure that He will not think less of these. His own work in us, than of the manifold sins by wliich we have marred His work. We are in some danger of regarding "the judg- ment " as a revelation of our trespasses only, instead of a revelation of the whole man, the " good " in him as well as the " bad." Once conceive of it aright, as the disclosure
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 307
of all that is in iis, and mere lionesty might well lead ns to desire rather than to dread it. One of the finest and most devout spirits* of modern France has said : " It seems to me intolerable to appear to men other than we appear to God. ]My worst torture at this moment is the over- estimate which generous friends form of me. We are told that af the last judgment the secret of all consciences will be laid bare to the universe ; vjould that mine ^vere so this day, and that every passer-by could read me as I am ! " To seem what we are, to be known for what we are, to be treated as what we are, this is the judgment of God. And, though this judgment must bring even the best of us much shame and much sorrow, who that sincerely loves God and truth will not rejoice to have done at last with all subter- fuge, all hypocrisy, all smooth insincerities, to wear his natural colours, and to take his true place, even though it be the lowest ?
In the corrupted currents of this world Ofience's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buj's out the law : but 'tis not so above ; There is no shtiffling, there the action lies In its true nature, and we ourselves compell'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence.f
• Maurice de Gudrin, in his celebrated " Journal." t Hamlet. Act III., Scone iii.
20*
308 THE EPILOGUE. Caap. XII. v. 13, to
To have got out of " tlic corrupted currents " of which audacious and strong injustice so often avails itself to our hurt ; to be quit of all the shuffling equivocations by which we so often pervert the true character of our actions and persuade ourselves that we are other and better than we are ; to be compelled to look our faults straight and fairly in the face ; to have all the latent goodness of our natures developed, and their fettered and obstructed virtue liberated from every hindering bond ; to see our " every deed " good as well as bad, and our " every secret " good as well as bad, brought to light : is there no hope, no comfort for us in such a prospect as this ? It is a prospect full of comfort, full of hope, if at least we have any real trust in the grace and kindness of God ; and if, through His grace, we have set ourselves to do our duty, to love our neighbour, to bear all the changes and sorrows of life with a patient cheerful heart.
Now that we have once more heard the Preacher's final conclusion, we shall have no difficulty in fitting into its place, or valuing at its worth, the partial and provisional conclusion to which he rises at the close of the previous Sections of the Book. In the First Section he describes his Quest of the Chief Good in Wisdom and in Mirth ; he de- clares that though both wisdom and mirth are good, neither of them is the supreme good of life ; and, in despair of reaching any higher mark, he closes with the admission
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. aO'J
(Chap, ii, vv. 24 — 26), that even for the wise good man " there is nothing better than to eat and to drink, and to let liis soul take pleasure in his labour." In the Second Section he urges his Quest in Devotion to Business and Public Affairs, only to find his former conclusion confirmed (Chap. V. vv. 18—20); "Behold, that which I have said holds good ; it is well for a man to eat and to drink, and to enjoy all the good of his labour through the brief day of his life : this is his portion ; he should take his portion and rejoice in his labour, remembering that the days of his life are not many and that God meant him to work for the enjoyment of liis heart." In the Third Section, his Quest in Wealth and in the Golden Mean conducts him by another road to the same bright resting-place, which how- ever, for all so bright as it looks, he seems to enter every time with a sadder and more dejected spirit (Chap. viii. V. 15): more and more ruefully he " commends mirth, be- cause there is nothing better for man than to eat and to drink and to rejoice, and because this will go with him to his work througli the days of his life which God giveth him under the sun." To my mind there is a strange pathos in the mournful tones in which the Preacher commends mirth, in the i)laintive minors of a voice from which we should naturally expect the clear ringing majors of joy. As we listen to these recurring notes, we feel that he has been bafTled in his (^>uest ; that, starting every day in a fresh direction and travelling till he is weary and uver.spent, he
310 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 13, to
finds himself night after night at the very spot he had left in the morning, and can only alleviate the unwelcome sur- prise by muttering, " As well here perhaps as elsewhere ! " No votary of mirth and jollity surely ever wore so rueful a face, or sang their praises with more trembling and reluc- tant lips. What can be more hopeless than his " there is nothing better, so you must even be content with this," or than his constant reference to the brevity of life ! You feel that the man has been passionately seeking for some- thing better, for a good which would be a good not only through the brief days of this life, but through all time ; that it is with a heart broken by the sense of wasted endeavour and keen unsatisfied cravings that he falls back on pleasures as brief as his day, as wearisome as his toils. Yet all the while he feels, and makes you feel, that there is a truth in his conclusion ; that mirth is a great good, though not the greatest ; that if he could but find that " something better " of which he is in quest, he would learn the secret of a deeper mirth than that which springs from eating and drinking and sensuous delights, a mirth which would not set with the setting sun of his brief day.
This feeling is justified by the issue. Now that the Preacher has completed his circle of thought, we can see that it is well for a man to rejoice and take pleasure in his labours, that God did mean him to work for the enjoyment of his heart, that there is a mirth purer and more enduring
Chap. XII. V. 14. TllK Kl'lLOOUE. 311
than that which springs from knowletlgi; ov from the gra- tification of the senses, or from success in the affairs of business, or from the possession of wealth, — a mirth for this life which widens and deepens into an everlasting joy. Throughout his Quest Cohelcth held fast to the con- viction that " it is a comely fashion to be glad," though he could iiive no better reasons for his conviction than the transitoriness of life and the impossibility of reaching any higher good. Before he could justify this conviction, before he could really satisfy us that " creatures such as we are in such a world as this " should be blithe, cheerful, gladi he nmst achieve his Quest. It is only when he has learned to regard our life
as a harp, A gracious instmmcnt on whose fail' strings We learn those airs wo shall be set to play When mortal hours are ended,
that his plaintive minors pass into the light jocund tones appropriate to a sincere and well-grounded mirth. Now he can cease to "trouble deaf heaven with his bootless cries " about the indiscrimination of death and the vanity of all things under the sun. He can now say to his soul,
What hast thou to do with sorrow Or the injuries of to-morrow ?
for he has discovered that no morrow can any more injure him, that no sorrow can rob him of his Chief Good. God
312 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 13, to
is with him now and here, observing all the postures and moods of his soul, and adapting all his circumstances to the correction of what is evil in him or the culture of what is good. There is no dark impassable gulf between this world and the heavenly world in which God dwells : life does not cease at death, but grows more intense, more full ; death is but a second birth into a second and better life, a life of happier and more favourable conditions, yet a life which is the continuation and consummation of that which we now live in the flesh. All that he has to do, therefore, is to " fear God and keep His commandments," leaving the issues of his labour in the wise gentle Hands which bend all things to a final goal of good. Wliat though the clouds drop rain, or the winds blow bitterly, what though his life be overshadowed or his diligence and charity meet no present recognition or reward ? All that is no business of his. He has only to do the duty of the passing day and to help his neighbours to do their duty. So long as he can do this, why should he not be bright and gay ? In this lies his Chief Good : why should he not enjoy that, even though other and lesser goods be taken from him for a time— be lent to the Lord that they may hereafter be repaid with usury ? He is no longer
a pipe for fortune's finger To sound -wliat stop slie please ;
he has a tune of his own, " a cheerful tune," to play, and
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 313
vnll play it let fortune be in what mood she please, lie is not " passion's slave," but the servant and tlic friend of Cfod ; and because God is with him and for him, because he will soon be with God, he is
As ono, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
and can take " fortune's buffets and rewards with equal thanks." His cheerful content does not lie at the mercy of accident ; the winds and waves of vicissitude cannot prevail against it : for it has two broad solid foundations, one on earth, the other in heaven. On the one hand, it springs from a faithful discharge of personal duty and a neighbourly charity which hopeth all things and endureth all things : on the other hand, it springs from the convic- tion that God taketh cognizance of all things, and will bring every secret and every deed into judgment. The fair structure which rises on these sure foundations is not to be shaken by aught that does not sap the foundations on which it rests. Convince him that God is not with him, or that God does not so care for him as to judge and reward him according to his deeds ; convict him of gross and constant failures in duty or in charity : and then indeed you touch, you endanger, his peace. But no ex- ternal loss, no breath of change, no cloud in the sky of his fortimes, no loss, no infirmity that does not impede him in the doing of his duty, can do more than cast a passing shadow on his heart. Whatever happens, into
314 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 13, to
whatever new conditions or new worlds lie may pass, his chief good and therefore his supreme joy is with him.
This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall : Lord of himself, though not of lands,
And, having nothing, yet hath all.
Now too, without fear or favour, without any prejudice for or against his conclusion because we find it in Holy Writ, we may ask ourselves : Has the Preacher satisfac- torily solved the problem with which he started ? has he really achieved his Quest and attained the Chief Good ? One thing is qu.ite clear ; he has not lost himself in specu- lations foreign to our experience and remote from it ; he has dealt with the common facts of life such as they were in his time, such as they remain in our time : for now as then men are restless and craving, and seek the satisfac- tions of rest in science or in pleasure, in successful public careers or in the fortunate conduct of affairs, by securing wealth or by laying up a modest provision for present and future wants. Now as then •
The common problem, yours, mine, everyone's, Is not to fancy what were fair in life Providing it could be, — but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means — a veiy diflPerent thing.*
* "Bishop Blougram's Apolog-y: " Browning.
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EriLOGUE. 315
That the Preacher should have attacked this coininou problem, and should have handled it with the practical good sense which characterizes his Poem, is a point, and a large point, in his favour.
Nor is the conclusion at which lie arrives, in its sub- stance, peculiar to hiui or even to the Sacred Scriptures. He says : The perfect man, the ideal man, is he who ad- dresses himself to present duty untroubled by adverse clouds and currents, who so loves his neighbour that he can do good even to the evil and the unthankful, and who carries a brave cheerful temper to the unrewarded toils and unrecognized sacrifices of his life, because God is with him, taking note of all he does, and because there is a future life, for which this course of duty, charity, and magna- ninuty will be the best preparation. He affirms tliat the man who has risen to the discovery and practice of this ideal has attained the Chief Good, that he has found a duty from which no accident can divert him, a pure tranquil joy which will go with him through all vicissitude and loss and grie£ And, on his behalf, I am bold to assert that, allowing for inevitable differences of conception and utter- ance, his conclusion is the conclusion of all the great teachers of morality whether of ancient or modern times, whether blessed or not blessed with the immediate inspira- tion of the Almighty. Take any of the ancient systems of morality and religion, Hindu, Egyptian, Persian, Chinese, Greek or Latin ; select those elements of it in virtue of
316 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v. 13, to
which it has lived for centuries and commanded the alle- giance of myriads of men ; reduce these elements to their simplest forms, express them in the plainest words : and, unless I am much mistaken, you will find that in every case they are only different versions of the final conclusion of the Preacher. " Do your duty patiently ; Be kind and helpful one to another ; Show a cheerful content with your lot ; Heaven is with you and will judge you :" — these brief maxims seem to be the moral epitome of all the creeds and systems that have had their day as also of those which even yet have not ceased to be. It is very true that the motive to obedience which Coheleth draws from the future life has been of a varying force and influence, rising per- haps to its greatest clearness among the Egyptians and the Persians, sinking to its dimmest among the Greeks and Eomans, although we cannot say it did not shine even on these ; for though the secret of their " mysteries " has been kept with a rare fidelity, yet the general impression of an- tiquity concerning them was that, besides disclosing to the initiated the natural truths and moral relations which were the bases of the popular mythology, they " opened to man a comforting prospect of a future state." I am not careful to show how the Word of Inspiration surpasses all other " scriptures " in the precision with which it enun- ciates the elementary truths of all morality, in its freedom from admixture with baser matter, in its application of those truths to all sorts and conditions of men, and, above
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 317
all, in that it fuses them into a sacred constraining afl'ec- t ion which dominates and gathers to itself
All thoughta, all passions, all delights Which stir within this mortal frame :
that is no part of my present duty. The one point on which I would ask you to reflect is this : With what an enormous weight of authority, drawn from all creeds and systems, from the whole moral experience of humanity, the conclusion of the Preacher comes to us ; how we stand re- buked by the wisdom of all past ages if, after duly testing it, we have not adopted his solution of the moral problem of life and are not working it out. Out of every land, in all the different languages of the divided earth, from the lips of all the antique sages whom we reverence for their excellence or their wisdom, no less than from the mouths of prophet and psalmist, preacher and apostle, there come to us voices which with one consent bid us " fear God and keep His commandments ; " — a sacred chorus which paces down the aisles of Time, chanting the praise of the man who does his duty even though he lose by it, who loves his neighbour even though he win no love in return, who breasts the blows of circumstance with a tranquil heart, who by a wise use and a wise enjoyment of the life that now is qualifies himself for the better life to be.
This, then, is the Hebrew solution of "the common problem." It is also the Christian solution. For when
318 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. v, 13, to
" the Fellow of the Lord of Hosts," instead of " clutching at His equality with God," humbled Himself and took on Him the form of a servant, the very ideal of perfect manhood became incarnate in this " Man from heaven." Does the Hebrew Preacher, backed by the consentient voices of all the great sages of Antiquity, demand that the ideal man, moved thereto by his sense of a constant Divine Presence and the hope of God's future judgment, should cast the bread of his charity on the thankless waters of neigh- bourly ingratitude, give himself with all diKgence to the discharge of duty whatever clouds may darken the heaven, whatever unkindly wind may nip his harvest, and maintain a calm, even a cheerful temper in all weathers and through all the changing seasons of life? His demand is met, and surpassed, by the Man Christ Jesus. He loved all men with a love which the many waters of their hostility and unthank- fulness could not quench. Always about His Father's business, when He laid aside the glory He had with the Father before the world was. He put off the robes of a king to don the weeds of the husbandman, and went forth to sow in all weathers beside all waters, undaunted by any wind of opposition, by any threatening cloud. In all the shocks of hostile circumstance, in the abiding agony and passion of a life short in years indeed but in sorrows above all measure long. He carried Himself with a cheerful patience which never wavered, knew a peace
Chap. XII. v. 14. THE EPILOGUE. 319
which the world did not give and could not take away, for the joy set before Him despising even the bitter cross. In .short, the very virtues inculcated by the Preacher were the very substance of " the highest holiest manhood " of Him who was both " human and divine." And if we ask, What were the motives which inspired this life of consum- mate and unparalleled excellence ? we find among them the very motives suggested by Coheleth. The strong Son of Man was never alone because the Father was alway with Him, as truly with Him while He was on earth as when He was in heaven. He never bated heart nor hope because He knew that He would soon be with God, to be judged of Him, and to be recompensed according to the deeds done in the body of His humiliation. Men might misjudge Him ; but the Judge of all the earth would do Him right. Men might award Him only a crown of thorns ; but God would touch the thorns, and, at His quickening touch, they would flower into a garland of immortal beauty and honour.
Nor did the Lord Jesus help us in our Quest of the Chief Good only by becoming the Pattern of all virtue. The work of His redemption is even a more sovereign help. By the sacrifice of His death He took away the sins which had rendered the pursuit of excellence well-nigh a hopeless task. By the impartation of His Spirit no less than by tlie inspirations of His example. He seeks to win us to the love of our neighbour, to fidelity in the discharge of
320 THE EPILOGUE. Chap. XII. vv. 13, 14.
daily duties, to that cheerful and constant trust in the providence of God by which we are redeemed from the shackles of care and fear. He, the Immanuel, by taking our flesh and dwelling among us, has proved that " God is with us," that He will in very deed dwell with men upon the earth. He, the Victor over Death, by His resurrection from the grave, has proved the truths of a future judgment and a future life with arguments of a force and quality unknown to our Hebrew fathers.
So that now as of old, now even more demonstrably than of old, " the conclusion of the whole matter " is to "fear God and keep His commandments." This is still the one solution of " the common problem " and " the whole duty of man." He who accepts this solution and discharges this duty — he has achieved the supreme Quest ; to him it has been given to find the Chief Good.
FINIS.
Yates & Alexander, Printers, 7, Symonds Inn, Chanccrj' Lane.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Crown 8vo, 38.
THE PEIVATE LETTERS OF ST. PAUL AND ST. JOHN.
NOTICES OF TEE FEESS. " These letters arc the Epistles of Paul to Philemon, and the Second and Third Epistles of John. These personal and priTatc letters, Mr. Cox riphtly thinks, are valuable, as throwing light on thuructer which more formal public letters do not. and as enabhng comparison between the man in his more and in his less jruarded moods. Thus the letter to Philemon incidentally brings out the courtesj- and devotedness, and what is not so often recognized, the humour of the Apostle Paul. It also furnishes Mr. Cox with an opportunity- of bringing out the teaching of Christianity concerning slavery. The Second Epistle of St. John sets forth the Apostle's ideal of a Christian lady, and the third that he formed of a Christian gentlemsui. In a fresh, natural, and practical way, Mr. Cox touclies the points brought out in these letters, and prefaces each lecture with a new translation of the epistle on which he discourses. His little book is scholarly and useful. Mr. Cox is, we trust, preparing himself for a more important work in this department of literature."— £ri7iji/i Quarterly, July, 1867.
" "We have been much pleased with portions of the volume, especially with those relating to the Pauline letter. All three epistles will, we think, be read with increased interest after a perusal of this Uttle work."— 2'Ae Friend, Eighth Month \, 1867.
"The lectures are fresh, racy, and scholar-like, showing a remarkable insight into haracter, and bringing out many of those traits which give special wcith and interest o the private letters of public men."— 27i<' buuduy Magazine, AvyUbt, 18C7.
"Mr. Cox's expositions were originally delivered, he tells us, as week-evening lectures in the ordinary course of his mini.stry. And we cannot help wondering, if so much thought and pains-taking can be given to week-evening lectures, what must be the mental wealth lavished on the ministrations of the Lord's-day. Mr. Cox is happy in his subject, and successful in its treatment ; and his little volume cannot fail to sati.sfr many .--tudents of Scripture, that even the less important portions of Holy Writ will more than repay all the labour that can be bestowed upon them."— TAe Chritttan Witness, Nov., 1867.
" It is a model of exposition. It will be read with satisfaction alike bv the scholar and by the mere English reader. It is full of learning, without any parade of it. It need not be ashamed to take its modest phice by the side of the greater and more pretentious works of our great modem expositors. We need not add that it has our hearty recom- mendation ; and we only hope that it will be followed by other productions, cquall>- able, and equally helpful to the understanding of the Di\-ine Word, from the same skilful pen."- 77ie Church, August 1, 1867.
" This small volume is one of very great merit. We can sincerely congratulate Mr. Cox's hearers on the rich mental repasts with which they are constantlv favoured. The stj-le in which Mr. Cox writes is greatly to be commended for its combination of fora- and beauty, while the subject -matter is such as only a cultivated and thoughtful student of Scripture could supply. If this little volume had been pubhshed anonymously, con- jecture would have conferred the honour of its production upon the highest names in sacred literature ; and we cannot but hope that its author will be spared to produce many more pages of like volumes." — The Baptist Magazine, Aov., 1867.
" This little book is not professedly critical, and yet is highly so in fact. The com- petent reader will see that it is the fruit of wide general reading and of much biblical scholarship. ... To bring the results of modern criticism on the sacred canon within the reach of the many, and to do it in such a way that they shall be at once perfectly intelligible and attractive to persons of modern education, is one of the most pressing wants we know of. It is for this inllucntial but loug-neglccted class, Mr. Cox has written. We gladly accept his work as an instalment of what has, in this respect, to be achieved ; and earnestly hope he will follow it in due time by others which shall aim at a far higher mark. A greater service he can hardly do, the Church." — The General Baptist Magazine.
" It was a happy thought to select the private letters of Paul and John for special examination and comment ; and in the little volume before us this thought is worked out with singular felicity and success. Mr. Cox has brought rare qualifications to his task. Something after the manner adopted by Dexn Stanley in dealing with the Old Testament History, he has contrived to throw around these brief epistles and the events to which they relate, a feeling of historic reality and human interest too often wanting in theological dissertations about Scripture character and incident. Without giving the reins to his imagination, or indulging in mere speculation and conjecture, he has, by bringing the scattered rays of light to be derived from thoughtful criticism and varied reading, cast very vivid illustration upon these slight fragments of the Sacred Book."— 2%e Herald of Peace, August, 1867.
" This is a beautiful morsel of criticism, delivered, we are told in the modest prefatory note, ' as week-evening lectures in th ; ordinary course of my ministry.' The author must have a choice congregation to hear such things as these as week-evening lectures, introduced and looked for as matters of course: they are characterised by depth, breadth, and length of view, by patience, and yet by freedom ; careful scholarship and varied reading. If the author takes some larger portions of the Word of God, and deals with them in this way, he will do something great, and we shall not have to regret that the ministers of the Church of England do all our biblical criticism for us. Although he says these pieces were delivered to congregations, they are but slightly homiletical. There is the fascination of a pre-Raphaelite picture about the manner in which he attempts to work out his conceptions of the personalities and circumstances of the Apostolic correspondence, and the neglected Epistles become as beautiful as some deep shady grove suddenly irradiated, through the dark boughs, by a rich beam of golden sunlight. We congratulate the author heartily on the success of his first critical effort, and respectfully bid him take time aud go on." — Eclectic Review, Sept., 1867.
" A volume in the perusal of which we have been much interested, and which we cordially commend to our readers as the production of a man evidently of no common culture and of great originality of mind." — The Court Circular, July 6, 1867.
" We have not met of late with so unpretending a work which is so rich in thought and instruction, and we trust that Mr. .Cox will feel encouraged to illustrate in a similar way other portions of the Apostolic writings."— TAc Inquirer, October 19, 1867.
" The writer evidently possesses a keen insight into the meaning of these letters, and has put himself in sympathy with the minds of the Apostles with whose words he deals. . . . . We cordially commend this book as both a scholarly and popular exposi- tion of parts of the New Testament which are too often overlooked by all classes of readers." — The Christian World, August 2, 1867.
" This little book may be read through in about a couple of hours ; but it contains the fruit of many hours' study and retlection, and it is full of interesting and profitable matter. It is a valuable volume ; its truth and beauty will cause it to he remembered with pleasure when many builder volumes are forgotten." — The Nonconformist.
" A little book which makes no pretension, but has merits rarely to be found in more elaborate treatises, which is marked throughout by a singular power for developing the meaning of the text, which is full of thought, rich and varied in illustration, practical in its spirit, and earnest in its appeals, deserves our highest commendation. Mr. Cox tells us that these singularly beautiful and striking teachings were the substance of week-evening lectures in the ordinary course of his ministry. There is no pulpit to which they would not have done honour, and no congregation that might not feel themselves privileged in the enjoyment of a ministry so thoughtful, and yet so manly and so helpful. These discourses are very models of what Scnpture exposition ought to be." — English Independent.
" All we know of Mr. Cox is negative. lie is not a clerg3Tnan of the Church of Eng-
land, but to what other body he ministers we are not informed. Whoever he may be, he has written well and originally on what ho styles the ' private letters ' of the Apostles St. Paul and St. John ; that is the Epistles to Philemon by the former, and those to Kyria and Oaius by the ' beloved disciple.' It will bo seen at onco that the dis- tinction between those letters and those intended for the whole Church, is real and not fanciful. One great object of the writer is to .show in the manner of the lIora3 PauliniB, that these letters are in every way what the more general writings of the Apostles would lead us to expect ; and a pleasing confirmation is thus atforded us of the genuineness of the whole." — The Clerical Journal.
" we suppose that a greater human interest attaches to the " private" Epistles than to those addressed to communities of Christians. In a very readable book, Mr. Co.x has
brought this element of human interest into very life-like prominence Of
Mr. Cox wo know nothing : there is nothing in the book itself to determine whether he is a Dissenting minister or a priest of the Catholic Church, unless his very frequent ' run- ning a-muS' at Ecclesiastical history for making this or that Scripture character a ' bishop,* and one or two isolated piirases may be taken as pointing in the former diroction. But whether a Dissenter or a Churchman, he has (speaking generally) pro- duced a book which no Catholic need have been ashamed ot penning, and wmch no Catholic will bo able to peruse without pleasure and profit." — The Church Times, January 11, 1868.
" The idea of this little volume is a very happy one, and not less happy in the execu- tion. To comment on th* Epistle to Philemon, and on the Epistles to Kyria and Oaius, to bring out the delicate beautiful thoughts they contain, to explain the allusions, to tell all that is known of the circumstances of their authors, when they wrote them, and to gather carefully the lessons they teach, is a work that requires no small .skill, as it yields rich instruction. All this Mr. Cox has done, and the result is a volume which will be examined with great interest by thoughtful readers, and which is admirably fitted to minister |to the spiritual life of all. . . . The microscopic exposition of Scripture is gaining attention on all sides — the exposition which brings out the moaning and beauty of brief expressions. We have never seen it used with juster discrimination, nor is there any volume we know in which it is turned more skUfully to the purpose of popular instruction." — The Freeman,
" It is refreshing to come upon a little book like this, whose worth stands in inverse relation to its size. In no time of our history as a Christian nation has it been more necessary to cast out the evil spirit by the exoruising presence of the good. Nothing can be more influential in leading people away from an endless disputing about questions that had bettor bo left to settle themselves than an introduction such as this to one of the 'palace-chambers far apart' in the souls of the first teachers of our fiiith, whore their policy may be found as lofty as their creed. People of different opinions, like rough boys, are given to slamming doors in each other's faces. This little book is a kind of wedge to keep the door of heaven open. Every man of true heart and good judgment will read it with comfort and hope. We trust the writer will meet with such appre- ciation of his labour as will encourage him to do a similar service in regard to other books of the Bible. There are many who cannot search out for themselves what they will gladly receive when presented by a man who uses the genial results of his own patient inquiry to build up the faith of his neighbour. The book is delightful for its earnestness, large-heartedness, and truth." — Spectator, July 13, 1867.
" A handsomely got-up volume, which presents a complete analysis and exposition of the chief features of the three New Testament Epistles addressed to private pt-rsons— Philemon, the Elect Lady, and Oaius. The author has done justice to his subject, and, both in unpretentious cnticism. and distinct explanation, thrown much light on valuable portions of sacred truth." — The Morning Star (June).
" This is one of a class of books which suggest a question as to the rea.son why they should be published. It consists of three lectures of a very common-placo description." — The Churchman.
ARTHUR MIALL, 18, BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.G.
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