Excels all fame;
Quickly, next best, to pass
From whence we came."
[Sidenote: _It is rendered hopeless by the base origin of Human
Industries._ Ch. iv., vv. 4-8.]
This stinging sense of the miserable estate of his race has, however,
diverted the Preacher from the conduct of the main argument he had in
hand: to that he now returns (ver. 4). And now he argues: You cannot
hope get good fruit from a bad root. But the several industries 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 man's jealous
rivalry with his neighbour." Every man tries to outdo and to outsell
his neighbours; to secure a larger business, to surround himself with
a more profuse luxury, or to amass an ampler hoard of gold. This
business life of yours is utterly selfish, and therefore utterly base.
You are not content with a sufficient provision for simple wants. You
do not seek your neighbour's good. You have no noble or patriotic aim.
Your ruling intention is to enrich yourselves at the expense of
neighbours who, in their turn, are _your_ rivals rather than your
neighbours, 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? 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," and
knows some little enjoyment of life; while you, driven on by jealous
competition and the eager cravings of insatiable desire, have neither
leisure nor appetite for enjoyment: both your hands are full, indeed,
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 desire to amass, that the
Preacher paints a portrait, 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 (vv. 7, 8).
[Sidenote: _Yet these are capable of a nobler Motive and Mode._ Ch.
iv., vv. 9-16.]
Now a jealous rivalry culminating in mere avarice,--that surely is not
the wisest or noblest spirit of which those are capable who devote
themselves to affairs. Even "the idols of the market" may have a purer
cult. Business, like Wisdom or 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 and greedy one; and such a mode Coheleth, before he pursues
his argument to a close, pauses to point out. As if anticipating a
modern theory which grows in favour with the wiser sort of mercantile
men, he suggests that co-operation--of course I use the word in its
etymological rather than in its technical sense--should be substituted
for competition. "Two are better than one," he argues; "union is
better than isolation; conjoint labour brings the larger reward" (ver.
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 (ver. 10); if one should
fall--and 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; while, if he is alone, the least that
can befall him is that his robe will be trampled and bemired before
he can gather himself up again. In the second illustration (ver. 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 cold. The
sleeping-chambers, moreover, have only unglazed lattices which let in
the frosty air as well as the welcome light; the bed is commonly 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 (ver. 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 through the clay
walls of 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 danger, commonly puts his "bag of needments"
or valuables under his head, it does 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 from sleep, with no helper at hand, might very easily
stand a worse chance than the thief. The fourth illustration (ver. 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 deposed and reduced to
impotence and 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 accept admonition;" he has led a
solitary, selfish, suspicious life, secluded himself in his harem,
surrounded himself with a troop of flattering courtiers and slaves. On
the other hand, we have the poor but wise young man, "the affable
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 and suffering people. By a sudden outbreak of popular wrath,
by a revolution such as often sweeps through Eastern states, he is set
free, and led from the prison to the throne, although he was once so
poor that none would do him reverence. 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, and cries, "I see--I see all the living
who walk under the sun flocking to the youth who stands up in the old
king's stead; there is no end to the multitude of the people over whom
he ruleth!" (ver. 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
common ends over the jealous rivalry which 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
business and public affairs, even as he contemplates its brightest
illustration in the youthful prisoner whose winning and sociable
qualities have lifted him to a throne, the old mood of melancholy
comes back on him; there is the familiar pathetic break in his voice
as he concludes (ver. 16), that even this wise 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 of this Drama. It has already
taught us that we are helpless in the grip of laws which 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 avocations into which 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 use or charm. The Preacher's familiar conclusion--"Be
tranquil, be content, enjoy as much as you can"--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, he sees, and reflects,
some little light. Even when facts seem to contradict it, he holds
fast to the conclusion 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 wholly loosens its hold. And, in the fifth chapter,
the light grows, though even here the darkness does not altogether
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 daystar
arise in the calm heaven of patient tranquil hearts.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _So also a happier and more effective Method of Worship is
open to Men_; Ch. v., vv. 1-7.]
The men of affairs are led from the vocations of the Market and the
intrigues of the Divan into the House of God. Our first glance at the
worshippers is not hopeful or inspiriting. For here are men who offer
sacrifices in lieu of obedience; and here are men whose prayers are a
voluble repetition of phrases which run far in advance of their
limping thoughts and desires: and there are men quick to make vows in
moments of peril, but slow to redeem 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 as dishonest as any that
disgraces the Exchange. But while the merchants and politicians stand
criticising the conduct of the worshippers, the Preacher turns upon
them and shows them that _they_ are the worshippers whom they
criticise; 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 obedience which leads straight to
God.
But what comfort for them is there in that? How should it help them,
to be beguiled into condemning themselves? Truly there would not be
much comfort in it did not the compassionate Preacher forthwith
disclose the secret of this dishonest worship, and give them counsels
of amendment. He discloses the secret in two verses (vv. 3 and 7),
which have much perplexed the readers of this Book. He there explains
that just as a mind harassed by much occupation and the many cares it
breeds cannot rest even at nights, but busies itself in framing wild
disturbing dreams, so also is it with the foolish worshipper who, for
want of thought and reverence, pours out before God a multitude of
unsifted and unconsidered wishes in a multitude of words. In effect he
says to them: "You men of affairs often get little help or comfort
from the worship of God because you come to it with preoccupied
hearts, just as a man gets little comfort from his bed because his
brain, jaded and yet excited by many cares, will not suffer him to
rest. Hence it is that you promise more than you perform, and utter
prayers more devout than any honest expression of your desires would
warrant, and offer sacrifices to avoid the charge and trouble of
obedience to the Divine laws. And as I have shown you a more excellent
way of transacting business than the 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 obedience. Keep your heart, set a watch over
it, lest it should be diverted from the simple and devout homage it
should pay. Do not urge and press it to a false emotion, to a strained
and insincere mood. Let your words be few and reverent when you speak
to the Great King. Do not vow except under the compulsion of stedfast
resolves, and pay your vows even to your own hurt when once they are
made. Do not anger God, or the angel of God who, as you believe,
presides over the altar, with idle unreal talk and idle half-meant
resolves, making vows of which you afterwards repent and do not keep,
pleading that you made them in error or infirmity. But in all the
exercises of your 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, and a delight." This, surely, was very
wholesome counsel for men of business in hard times.
[Sidenote: _And a more helpful and consolatory Trust in the Divine
Providence._ Ch. v., vv. 8-17.]
Not content with this, however, the Preacher goes on to show how, when
they returned from the House of God to the common round of life, and
were once more exposed to its miseries and distractions, there were
certain 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 Providence 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 (ver. 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
had of the 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
this reassuring conviction that, in the last resort, even the king was
"the servant of the field" (ver. 9), _i.e._, was dependent on the
wealth and produce of the land, 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 general well-being, it was full of
consolation.
The second fact, or class of facts, in which they might recognise the
gracious care of God was this,--That the unjust judges and wealthy
rapacious "lords" who oppressed them had very much less satisfaction
in their fraudulent gains 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 _clings_ to wealth with what it yields" (ver. 10).
"When riches increase, they increase that consume them"--dependents,
parasites, slaves, flock around 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 (ver.
11).[35] He cannot know the sweet refreshing sleep of husbandmen
weary with toil (ver. 12), for his heart is full of care and
apprehension. Robbers may drive off his flocks, or "lift" his cattle;
his investments may fail, or his secret hoard be plundered; he must
trust much to servants, and they may be unfaithful to their trust; 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 prove little better than a fool,
wasting in wanton riot what _he_ has amassed with much painful toil
(vv. 13, 14). And, in any event, he cannot take his wealth with him on
his last journey (vv. 15, 16). So that, naturally enough, he is much
perturbed, and "hath great vexation and grief" (ver. 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.[36] 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 neighbours, to sink
into an insincere and 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
guilt, and rich in nothing but the memory of frauds and wrongs? Might
not even a captive or a slave, whose sleep was sweetened by toil, and
who, from his trust in God and the sacred delights of honest worship,
gathered strength to endure all the oppressions of the time, and to
enjoy whatever alleviations and innocent pleasures were vouchsafed
him--might not even he be a wiser, happier man than the despot at
whose caprice he stood?
[35] Ginsburg quotes a capital illustration of this verse from the
dialogue of Pheraulas and Sacian (Xenophon, _Cyrop._, viii. 3); "Do
you think, Sacian, that I live with more pleasure the more I
possess?... By having this abundance I gain merely this, that I have
to guard more, to distribute to others, and have the trouble of taking
care of more; for a great many attendants now demand of me their food,
their drink, and their clothes. Whosoever, therefore, is greatly
pleased with the possession of riches will, be assured, feel much
annoyed at the expenditure of them."
[36] Compare Psalm xlix., vv. 16, 17:
Be not afraid though one be made rich,
Or if the glory of his house be increased;
_For he shall carry away nothing with him when he dieth
Neither shall his pomp follow him_.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: _The Conclusion._ Ch. v., vv. 18-20.]
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 questioned its soundness, and that a quiet, cheerful, and obedient
heart is greater riches than the wealthiest estate. With all the
emphasis of renewed and now immovable 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--and this too is
true--that a man to whom God hath given riches and wealth--for even a
rich man may be a good man and use his wealth wisely--if He hath also
enabled him to eat thereof, and to take his portion, and to rejoice in
his labour--this too is a most Divine gift. He does not fret over the
brevity of his life; it is not much, or often, or sadly in his
thoughts: for he knows that the joy his heart takes in the toils and
pleasures of life is approved by God, or even, as the phrase seems to
mean, corresponds in some measure with the joy of God Himself; that
his tranquil enjoyment is a reflection of the Divine peace.
* * * * *
II.[37] There are not many Englishmen who devote themselves solely or
mainly to the acquisition of Wisdom, and who, that they may teach the
children of men that which is good, live laborious days, withdrawing
from the general pursuit of wealth and scorning the lures of ease and
self-indulgence; such men, indeed, are but a small minority in any age
or land. Nor do those who give themselves exclusively to the pursuit
of Pleasure constitute more than a small and miserable class, though
most of us have wasted on it days that we could ill spare. But when
the Hebrew Preacher, having followed his quest of the supreme Good in
Pleasure and Wisdom, turns to the affairs of Business--and I use that
term as including both commerce and politics--he enters a field of
action and inquiry with which we are nearly all familiar, and can
hardly fail to speak words which will touch us close home. For,
whatever else we may or may not be, we are most of us among the
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 malignant features of Mammon.
[37] In commenting on Sections II. and III. of this Book I found that
both the exposition of the sacred text and the application of its
lessons to the details of modern life would gain in force by being
handled separately. The second part of each of these chapters consists
mainly, therefore, of an exhortation based on the previous exposition,
the marginal notes indicating the passages of Holy Writ on which these
exhortations are based.
Now in dealing with this broad and momentous province of human life
the Preacher exhibits the candour and the temperance which marked his
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 an evil, so neither
will he allow us to think of Business as essentially and of necessity
an evil. This, like those, 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, goodwill, and a mutual
helpfulness. Nevertheless, thrift may degenerate 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
it. 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 and more wholesome growths which sprang beside them,
and of which they were the wild bastard offshoots.
Throughout this second section of the Book, his subject is excessive
devotion to Business, and the correctives to it which his experience
enables him to suggest.
1. His handling of the subject is very thorough and complete. Men of
business might do worse than get the lessons he here teaches by heart.
According to him, their excessive devotion to affairs springs from a
"jealous rivalry"; 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, spiritual, aspiring in thought and
action, to render their worship formal and insincere, and, in general,
to incapacitate them for any quiet happy enjoyment of their 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.
[Sidenote: _Devotion to Business springs from Jealous Competition_:
Ch. iv., v. 4.[38]]
[38] Coheleth's description is so true and pertinent, it hits so many
of our modern faults and sins, that I am obliged to cite my authority
for every paragraph lest I should be suspected of putting a private
and personal interpretation on these ancient words.