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JAMES BENNET, SAINT JOHN, NEW BRUNSWICK. ^ EDINBURGH: WILLIAM OLIPHANT AND CO. 1870. <6 o 7^"^ <:n/irtj^ /^/^./ MURRAY AND GIBB, KDINBDRGH, PRINTHRS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICB Y PREFATOEY NOTE. rriHIS Volume is the result of certain prepara- -*- tions made for an evening Lecture to the Author's congregation. This fact will account, a ad perhaps apologize, for the various moods observable in the several chapters, and the hortatory style sometimes adopted. Having been published in suc- cessive numbers of a local paper, they are now reissued, with slight corrections, in a more perma- nent form, at the request of many who heard them delivered, or read them in the columns of TJic Prcs- hytcrian Advocate. The Author is fully sensible of the many defects in these pages, which he yet hopes may be found to contain some true and useful views, not altogether common, and needing exposition. The distance of the Author from the press pre- venting him from reading proof, will account for minor errors and inaccuracies. Saint John, November 1870. -.—:—- - — - - - <^ ^ I CONTENTS. II, III, IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XV IT. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. INTEODUCTORY, .... WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK, INSATISFACTION THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR, . KOVELTY, WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY, THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY, THE king's DESPAIR, MATERIALISM AND MORALS, EXISTENCE OR NON-EXISTENCE ? THE ENVIOUS MAN, .... THE LONELY ONE, .... THE WISE CHILD AND THE FOOLISH KINO, SNARES IN THE PATH OF PIETY, THE VOW, RICHES, THE BANKRUPT, .... THE HOUSES OF MOURNING AND MIRTH, INVENTIONS, THE DUTY OF YOUTH IN THE PROSPECT OF AGE, THE JUDGMENT OF PLEASURE, , PAOK 1 1.5 28 38 60 8.-) 106 127 162 174 196 217 234 252 270 286 310 336 358 382 406 THE WISDOM OF TUE KING. I. INTRODUCTOEY. THE BOOK. npiIE Book of Ecclesiastes is one of the few lite- rary pictures yet hanging on the walls of early time. The laws of Moses, the wars of Joshua, the histories of Samuel, the psahns of David, the' trials of Job, and some others, have a yet more antique appearance. The first authors in the world were Jews. No other nation has sent down to us a literature so old. The first period of Jewish letters was past ere Solomon's day. Yet the blind bard of Greece was not born when this King of Israel sung of the Messiah's love for His Church ; Lycurgus had not instituted liis laws when Solomon' sat on the judgment-seat; and Solon had yet to wait centuries to be born after the Preacher had delivered his discourses on wisdom. We do not A THE \7ISD0M OF THE KING. possess the first literary efforts of either the Jew or the Greek. There is a finish about the style of their earliest writings \/hich forbids the thought, that they contain the first attempts of national authorship. Moses had his precursors, and is in- debted to previous historians for many of his facts. The writers of tlie wars of Josliua and of the second volume of Samuel refer to the ' Book of Jasher ' as authority for some of their statements. Even the author of the Book of Numbers refers to a previous history — ' The Book of the Wars of the Lord.' The manuscripts of most ancient date ho-v(i fallen a prey to the devourer, which eats up columns of granite and stable empires as well as feeble books. "While war desolates everything, parchments also fear the worm. Only wonderful care could have preserved any of this frail generation for so many centuries. When we think how many, in tlie present day, of the great family of books die leaving scarcely a name, \vg shall have the higher respect for those old-world worthies whose innate vitality has enabled them to survive the ruins of empires. It is principally from books that we become ac- quainted with the men of ancient days. There are indeed works which industry has reared and art embellished, whose remains we yet behold. The pyramids, the sepulchres of the dead, the broken INTRODUCTORY. 3 pillars of temples, the treasures of art dug from ruined palaces, the coins of ancient commerce, the medals struck in commemoration of victories, tlie statues and bas-reliefs indicaave of the objects of worship or portraying historic personages, — these are useful in constructing the ideal edifice of past society ; and ycit without contemporaneous litera- ture all these would be of little avail in producing an adequate picture of the bygone ages. From Isaiah, Ezekiel, or Dan^'el, we know more of Baby- lon, Tyre, and Jerusalem than excavators or tra- vellers will ever unfold. Even the treasures of art from the ruined palaces of Nineveh fail to do more than illustrate as a commentary the things written of that ancient city by the old Hebrew prophets. There are certain things of which no knowledge can be handed down to us save through the medium of the book. The thinkings of men can become the heritage of the future generations alone through literature. What Solomon did might be partly per- petuated by the works themselves ; but Solomon's opinions regarding what he did, and the motives of his actions, can alone be understood through lan- guage — for a time by tradition, afterwards by writ- ing. This book, whether from the King's own pen, or that of some other author after his time, displays without doubt the workings of Solomon's mind, the THE WISDOM OF THE KING. feelings by Avhich he was actuated, and the conclu- sions at which he arrived. THE AUTHOR OF THE BOOK. Modern criticism affirms that Solomon is not the author of tliis book — at least as it now stands^. De Wette, Keil, Bleek, and otliers refer its composition to the times of Ezra and Xehemiah. The principal reasons for setting aside the authorship of Solomon are — the use of foreign words, more appropriate to the period of the captivity ; the absence of any pro- test against, or even reference to, idolatry, which was still rife in Solomon's time ; and the generally scorn- ful and sceptical sentiments of the book, evidencing a later product of ihought. It has been leplied, tliat Solomon's intercourse with foreign nations, by commerce and marriage, accounts satisfactorily for the presence of foreign words and idioms ; that his own lapse into idolatry might seal his lips against its condemnation, and prevent even a remote refer- ence to it ; while his intensely active mind and wild sensual life would produce just such thoughts, though not yet common to the age. The author, also, claims to be the King of Israel, speaks gene- rally in the first person, and delivers sentiments in harmony with what we otherwise know of his life. Though there are great difficulties in acknowledging INTRODUCTOllY. 5 Solomon as the author, we may still, in accordance with ancient Jewisli and Christian usage, speak of him as the writer. We would not despoil the great monarch of a crown which we can place only on some vague, imaginary Ijrow. It fits no head so well as that of the wise Solomon. THE OBJECT OF THE BOOK. To teach the unsatisfactoriness of wisdom, plea- sure, and art — the propriety of a moderate use of the enjoyments of life — a humble su.bmission to the arrangements of Providence, and fervent piety, was the object of this treatise. It is an autobiography with a purpose. The book may seem unnatural, ])ut it is because the life was a calculation. Men are led mostly by custom, he by wisdom. He studied that he might reckon up the value of learn- ing. He sought pleasure that lie might know its bitterness and sweetness. He was busy that he might know the worth and vanity of industry. Every activity, every passion, every being, every mode of thought, was a study ; and every study was for the benefit of his fellows: He seems to be a fool, but he is rather a wise man making experi- ments in folly — a philosopher blowing bubbles from wlii'^h may come out the science of light. The light at last shines forth from the darkness. b THE WISDOM OF THE KING. The Pharos sheds its rays, warning the mariners of the great sea of life from the rocks and quicksand 3. ' Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole duty of man,' is the conclusion of the matter. Every part is calculated for this end. The dark passages lead up to the radiant day. Life is a vanity, pleasure is folly, business is unsatisfactory, without duty and God. This is the lesson of the great Koheleth. THE INSPIRATION OF THE BOOK. It is no doubt inspired, but this inspiration must be truly conceived. The Spirit inspired the author to write the history of all the King's experiments, the motive from which he made them, and his sentiments regarding them. He also guided him in the announcement of the true end and duty of man. The experiments, motives, and sentiments are not on that account always good. I may write the history and opinions of a man ; but it does not follow that I approve of what he has done as right, or of his theories as correct. Nor will it be neces- sary always to indicate wherein I differ from him, especially if he have at a later period corrected himself. So also is God the inspirer of this book, which, though it describe some very questionable doings, and utter very debatable sentiments, yet in INTKODUCTOKY. its ultimate results, leads from tlie creature to the Creator, from sensuous pleasure to the duty of wor- ship, and from the vanity of things to the enjoyment of God. We are not necessarily to receive every sentiment in the Bible as the mind of God. We can affirm that it was God's will that it should be placed on the record, but we must exercise judgment and dis- crimination as to whether it has as a sentiment the approbation of God. There are many acts recorded in the Bible which are not explicitly condemned, but of which neither God nor man can approve — acts, sometimes of good men, against which conscience recoils. We should not permit our reverence for the man to override our judgment of his conduct ; nor are we to accept the decisions, declarations, and opinions of the men of the Bible as infallible doc- trines, till we have found that they are in harmony with the general tenor of the Christian faith. The serpent speaks lies in the Bible. Balaam uttered some sentiments which we discard, as did Balak who employed him. The Book of Job contains the discussions of Job and his three friends, and the young man Elihu ; but we are expressly told that the * comforters ' of the afflicted man did not speak the thing that was right concerning God as Job had. They were utterly at fault regarding the mode of 8 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. i i working in the divine government. Nay, though Job's sentiments have the approval of God, yet theirs must be considered only as a comparative rightness, since God liad already entered into con- troversy with him, and combat .d his positions. To take this or that passage at random in proof of a doctrine, witliout reference to the character of the speaker, the circumstances in which it was spoken, or its general harmony with the mind of God, is singularly vain, and leads to the falsest conchisions. Yet important doctrines are sometimes supported by texts, without reference to anything but the simple fact that they are found in the Bible. On the other hand, attacks have been made on the Bible because it contains sentiments winch on examination are found to be the words not of God, but of wicked men. Thus in one of the Essays and Bcvicios an attempt is made to show that tlie prophecies have failed, because the prophecy of one denominated a false prophet is aflirmed by the Scripture itself to have failed. Special care must therefore be taken to understand in what character any one- — Solomon, for example — appears before us. Does he speak as a prophet, or only as an observer or philosopher ? Does he say, Thus saith the Lord, or. Thus it appears to me ? Dues he claim Divine illumination, or only human wisdom ? If he appear as a Divine INTRODUCTORY. 9 messenger, we must investigate his claims ; and if they be well founded, submit to his decisions. But if he make no such claim — if he simply appear as the inquirer and experimenter, telling us what he has done, what good means and opportunities he had of doing it — we are not debarred from a free criticism on the manner of his inquiry, or the validity of his conclusions. That the record of his procedure is placed in this sacred book by the Spirit of God, neither prevents nor supersedes such exa- mination. It is not placed in this collection that we should adopt and submit to its every con- clusion, but that we might learn from the failures and follies of the King how little wisdom can do, even when aided by power and riches, especi- ally when vice and foliy are added to these trans- cendent gifts. THE CHARACTER OF SOLOMON. The character of Solomon is that of a great mon- arch with kingly vices — a form of glory yet tar- nished with black spots. Tlie splendour and shadow of his life are felt all over the East. His f\ime for wisdom, magnificence, and work is great among the nations. Weighed in the Ijalancc, he is found wanting. His character is an antithesis of virtue and vice, holiness and sin. He is pious and pro- 10 THE WISDOM OF THE KIXG. ii ^i fane, — pure in sentiment, yet seeking after many strange women. He builds the temple to Jehovah, and a high place for Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, and for IMoloch, the abomination of the chil- dren of Ammon. He serves the Lord, yet goes after Ashtaroth, the goddess of the Zidonians, and after Milcom, the goddess of the Ammonites. He cherished pure sentiments, yet had many wives and concubines. His reign was peaceful, but this he owed more to his father's valour than to his own virtue. The stories told of his wisdom hardly sus- tain his reputation. Under him Israel was pros- perous and happy ; and those who worship success will find in this fact an apology for every crime. Wise in youth, he grows foolish as he gets old, though perhaps repentance came in time to restore his aged steps to the paths of virtue. Let us hope that the conclusion of this book shut in the latter part of the monarch's life — ' Fear God, and keep His commandments ; for this is the whole duty of man.' The life that unfolds the doctrine of this text must needs be beautiful. But the previous portion of Solomon's life was far enough from developing this moral ideal, and many of the sentiments of this book are in poor correspondence with it, though they may prepare the way for the perception of its truth. As anta- INTRODUCTORY. 11 ^'onists they show its strength, and secure its vic- tory. We will need to take care that we do not render to those low sentiments which are expressed in the previous parts of the book, and illustrated in liis life, that homacje which is alone due to tliis con- queror in the lists. Experiment, passion, industry, pleasure, have all had their say; but this word of conscience hushes their babble. God and duty rise eternal and immutable above the changing forms and vanities of tilings, saying to the turbulent waves of sentiment, ' Peace, be still.' The excited sea of speculation subsides into a great calm before those grand words. THE OBJECT OF THE SPIRIT IN THE BOOK. But why, from this view of Solomon's position and character, should so much of the Bible be taken up with his biography and experiments ? We reply, for the important purpose of showing how far human wisdom, when aided by means and oppor- tunities, can go ; of making way for the fulness of time, when after that, in the wisdom, of God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of the preaching of the Cross to put to shame the preaching of Solomon as well as the discussions of the philosophers. ^ — • -• \^.^>^^ 12 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. COiMPAEATIVE MERITS OF SOLOMOX'S TEACHING. From the vantage ground of Christ's teaching we feel that we have an understanding of the things of morality and duty which Solomon had not. Many things we shall find, by him, acutely observed. His j)roverhs contain a clear insight into human nature, and his preaching many excellent instructions. Ad- vices very valuable he sometimes gave, but they are far from reaching the top of the Sermon on the Mount. His thoughts sweep round the visible horizon, but he fails to discover the invisible. We may take liim as our guide with a caution among common things, but knowing little of that higlier morality which springs from faith. Probably, in- deed, we should except his wonderful Song. Whetliv3r, however, he comprehended the deep spiritual mean- ing of his Odes of Love in their relation to Christ and the Church is questionable. — His soul hardly felt the divine harmony of his numbers. The primary meainng overshadowed the hidden intelli- gence. We, who have the later teachings of the Spirit, find in them wings on which to mount the heiglits of divine contemplation. In his Ecclesiastes, however, we remain on the lower surfp.ce of earth, driving as in the chariots of Amminadib, amid festal scenes and gardens, with fruits and flowers, enclos- INTRODUCTORY. 13 ing palaces where the wine-cup circles, and song sends out its sweet waves of sound on which the sold floats away to Elysian fields. We may, in our further contemplation of Solomon's sermons, take occasion to point to the better land. When we hear him bewailing the vanity of human work and joy, our ear will be the better fitted to hear wdiat Jesus has spoken, and what the Spirit saith unto the churches. When we find that the happiness of the soul is not here, we may the more readily give our hand to the invisible guide who promises to lead us to enjoyment by another road. Solomon's wisdom may disappoint, but, behold, a greater than Solomon is here. Strange that an obscure One over whose birth hung a cloud, without wealtli or apparent power, should, by the shores of Galilee, claim superiority over him whom the East honoured as the wisest of its sages ! No doubt, by the greater part of His hearers. His claims would be received with a sneer. Such lan- guage coidd be viewed but with scorn by those who looked back to the wisdom of Solomon, as trans- cending that of all ancient teachers. The claim, however, is modest in the extreme. In that form without comeliness there was a higher dignity than that of Solomon in all his glory. In that eye there was a discernment and penetration unknown to him who vainly strove to discover the causes of human ■t -Si- 14 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. sorrow, suffeving, and sin. In that hand lay a capa- city of blessing, which all the riches of the Eastern King could not bestow. Before the glory of the only begotten Son of God, the glory of palaces and proverbs, of gold and song, of material grandeur and mental wisdom, grows pale and fades into insignifi- cance. Solomon's night of stars and flitting aurora melts into the splendours of the day of Jesus Christ. As explorers make voyages from their own sunny skies and moderate climes to polar regions, where winter as a tyrant rules the frozen year, that they may note the fauna and flora found capable of existence in those Arctic regions, and round tlie sciences of botany and zoology, so we may, leaving the warm bright zone of Christian thouglit and feeling, transport ourselves to the cold and t^vilight climes of rational wisdom where Solomon was doomed to dwell — not that we may remain there, but return with the knowledge of what the men cf his time were and thought and did, and in the thankfulness that ours is a day of brighter manifestation and higher virtue, brought to perfection under the healing beams of the Sun of Eighteousness. 11. WISDOM, TLEASUEE, AND WOKK. 'And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom con- cerning all things that are done under lieavcn.' — Ecolks. i. 13. ' Go to now, 1 will prove thee with mirth ; therefore enjoy plea- sure. '—Eccleh. II. 1. * I sought in mine heart to give myself unto wine (yet ac- quainting mine heart with wisdom), and to lay hold on fidly. ' — ECCLES. II. 2. * I made me great works.' — EccLEs. li. 4. WISDOM. IN the first place, Solomon applied his heart to wisdom. It was that for which he prayed in early youth, and the prime of his manhood was em- ployed in its acquisition. The wisdom of his day embodied in books was su^n attained ; for such trea- sures were then scarce. From these he would soon be free to receive such vocal wisdom as the men of his age could furnish. But above all he directed his mhid to the study of men and things — the state of society, the conditions of good and evil, the value of riches and the evils of poverty, the nature of plants and animals ; and he condensed the results of his observations and experiments in proverbial pliilo- 15 16 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. Hopliy. Tho divine gift of poetry which he inherited from his father, was also cultivated. So at an early period he attained a fame for wisdom exceeding that of all the men of his day. — ' He was wiser than Ethan tlie Ezrahite, and Heman, and Chalcol, and Barda, the sons of Mahol ; and his fame was in all nations round about.' WISDOM TO BE SOUGHT THROUGH THE PORTALS OF YOUTH. It may seem strange that his acquisition of wisdom should be placed before his life of pleasure, and ex- periments in enjoyment. It is, however, the truth (if nature which so arranges it. He who becomes learned ever imbibes the desire for knowledge in youth. The learned man often becomes a rake, but the original rake seldom becomes a scholar. He who has pursued a practical business for half a life hardly ever becomes a philosopher. The acquisi- tions of literary treasure are usually made while life beats high-pulsed. A man who has devoted his principal time to sowing wild oats may turn his attention to the cultivation of the soil, but seldom to the cultivation of philosophy. Science selects her favourites from among the young. You may learn to plant and build, you may make awkward attempts in the practice of debauchery after having WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 17 eschewed these till you have arrived at the meridian of life ; but you need hardly expect to do more than form a distant acquaintance with Wisdom after that date, if you have not paid worship before her shrine sooner. Learning awaits her passage through the gates of youth. It is natural, therefore, that we should find Solomon a wise young man, whatever he became in after years. WISDOM NOT HAPPINESS. The King found that wisdom which he so earnestly sought, incapable of procuring him the happiness which he expected. Amid the bountiful harvest of knowledge, he pined for a plant of which he found he had not sown the seed. KnoAvledge grew up tall and luxuriant over the wide field of thought, but that rare exotic, happiness, was nowhere to be seen. Fame, admiration, glory, riches, and consoli- dated power were his, but care and disappointment still rankled in the monarch's heart ; and he turned himself to other pursuits to see whether he had not made a mistake in supposing wisdom the best of the gifts of Heaven. ' For,' said he, ' in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow. I said in mine heart. Go to now, I will prove thee with mirth ; therefore enjoy pleasure.* B mmm. 18 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. HAPPINESS SOUGHT IN A NEW CLIME. K- From wisdom to pleasure — at one bound from the study to the banqueting-room, from deep researches to light witticisms, from silent contemplation upon the nature of things to uproarious mirth ! Instead of practical experiment, the practical joke. His sage counsellers are dismissed, or transformed into the nightly revellers of whom alone for the tune he makes companions. No doubt there was much ad- mirable fooling round the monarch's board. What wisdom was transformed to wit ! What jests were uttered ! Wliat uproar was heard ! What cups were drained, while the chorus was added to the song, and the walls of the palace shook with laughter ! We have no picture of the festal scenes or wild debaucheries into which Solomon plunged, but they were probably not very different from certain modern orgies with which many are but too well acquainted, and which only want the gorgeous splendours of the palace and genius to make them, in all their ruder parts at least, fit exemplars of the scenes in which the wise King enacted his part — scenes in which wine put dulness to flight, provok- ing the flashing repartee, and the loud long laugh, but which also brought in its train maudlin talk, redness ■WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 19 of eyes, shattered nerves, and all the usual sequels of the life of the debauchee. And connected with these boisterous revels other sensual and emasculative pleasures were indulged in to the utmost extremes. All the variety of beauty of which tlie Eastern harem could boast solicited his love. Queens and concubines without number vied for his favours. He seems to have delivered him- self over to all the distractions of multitudinous attachments. Compared with him, even the royal rakes of modern times are virtuous. Kings' daugh- ters were his queens, and peasant beauties were his mistresses. The usual results, no doubt, were pro- duced : an utter destruction of the tenderest senti- ment of the heart ; jealousies and quarrels ; con- tempt for woman ; utter disbelief in virtue ; and a mind thoroughly carnalized. PLEASURE ALSO VANITY. The conclusion to wliicli Solomon came regarding pleasure was, that it also was vanity, that laughter was mad, and that mirth did no good ; while the result of his experience in strange and numerous attachments is — ' I find more bitter than death the woman whose heart is snares and nets, and her hands bands : whoso pleaseth God shall escape from her; but the sinner shall be taken by her.' 20 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. * Behold, this have I found, saith the Preacher, counting one by one, to find out the account ; which yet my soul seeketh, but I find not : one man among a thousand have I found ; but a woman amons all those have I not found.' ESTIMATE OF WOMAN. A true woman, among all for whom he enter- tained either legitimate or unlawful loves, he has not found. This sentence of Solomon has been often quoted to show the utter worthlessness of the female character. It is, however, an entirely wortliless conclusion as regards woman when placed in her legitimate and appropriate sphere as the one sole companion of man's life in love, cares, and labours. As well might the tyrant who, by cruelty, has alien- ated his subjects, complain that he has failed to find loyal men, as the debauchee who has subjected hun- dreds to his lust, that he had found no noljle, virtuous woman. Did the pleasure-seeking King expect, in lieu of his own dissipated, debauched heart, one pure and undivided ? It is not thus that the com- merce of love is carried on. Pearls are not to be exchanged for pebbles. The law of love which God has established is heart for heart ; and the affections that are dissipated among a thousand objects must ever be without return of that which yet the soul WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 21 seeks — the iihdivided love. Of this fact Solomon seems to have had a dim perception when he gives those never-to-be-forgotten advices to the young man, to avoid the strange woman whose steps take hold on hell, and to live joyfully with the wife of his youth. It was not given to Solomon, wise as he Avas, to limn the picture of the virtuous woman, but to another king whose wisdom was derived from the inspiration of his mother. The words of Lemuel are well wortiiy of our attention, both as neutraUz- ing the false impression produced by Solomon's philosophy, and as showing what the true woman is : — ' Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She wiU do him good, and not evil, all the days of her life. She seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants' ships ; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet niglit, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens. She considereth a field, and buy 3th it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms. She perceiveth that her merchandise is good : her candle goeth not out by night. She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the 22 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of the snow for her household : for all her household xre clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry ; her clothing is silk and purple. Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land. She maketh fine linen, and seUeth it ; and delivereth girdles to the merchant. Strength and honour are her clothing ; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom ; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed: her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou ex- cellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain : but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands ; and let her own works praise her in the gates.' HAPPINESS SOUGHT IN THE DOMAIN OF INDUSTRY. The King, finding little satisfaction in the pur- suit of knowledge, and still less in the following of pleasure, — disgusted with science, wine, and de- bauchery, — resolved to try a life of practical business. He finds that much study is a weariness to the WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 23 flesh ; that wine stingeth like an adder ; that favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; that so far, at least, the most lovely fruits have turned to dust and ashes on his lips ; that instead of pleasures, he has been drinking from gilded cups only sorrows and vexa- tions; yet, with that instinct which never leaves the children of those who once inherited Paradise, he turns his eye in other dii-ections, hoping to discover its golden gates, and ready to force his way even against the fiery cherubim ; — or if he cannot dis- cover Paradise, lie will make it. The ideal of all the beauty that he can imagine shall become a thing of fact. He wiU plant gardens like Eden, waving with trees of umbrageous foliage and pleasant fruits. Every flower of beauty and fragrance shaU bloom along its borders, and palaces of noble architecture shall spring up in the midst of all. Fountains shall flow, diffusing coolness ; and waterfalls shall mii^gle their music with the songs of birds. And away from these chosen retreats, woodlands and forests shall be seen intermingled with fields of ^'orn and vineyards, tended by the slaves which he has pur- chased, or which have been born in his house. In such employment he thinks to find pleasant excite- ment ; and, when completed, will he not be happy ? So thinks the monarch one morning, after the plea- sures of wine, and music, and mirth have left him 24 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. jaded and worn. His resolve was taken; for he tells us: *I made me great ^ works; I builded me houses ; I planted me vineyards ; I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits ; I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees ; I got me servants and maidens, and had servants horn in my house ; ilso I had great possessions of great and small cattle above all that were in Jerusalem before me ; I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces ; I gat me men-singei- and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of ii.?n, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem : also my wisdom remained with me. And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them ; I withheld not my heart from any joy : for my heart rejoiced in all my labour ; and this was my portion of all my labour. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do ; and, behold, all was vanity and vexa- tion of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.' HAPPINESS THE DAUGHTER OF VARIETY. Such were the experiments made by Solomon in pursuit of happiness. Like many another ardent WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 25 youth, he starts for the chief prizes of distinguished scholarship ; and whep he has distanced all com- petitors, finding his soul famishing while luxuriating in fame, he plunges into dissipation. But the wine- cup leaves the aching head to muse over the eva- nescent happiness. The pleasure, too, which came at first with exquisite sweetness, soon palls. Sensual delights become ever weaker ; beauty fails to awake love ; and miserable dregs become thicker and darker as each new draught is taken. This will never do. But being a king, having not only men but nature under his command, there are many regions yet un- explored, and these also he will put to the question. He will become the master of architects, who shall design palaces and temples that shall eclipse all past wonders, and be the despair of all future artists ; the beautiful in nature shall become more glorious by the magic of art ; poetry, music, literature shall lend their charms ; the bard shall sing his verse to the accompanying minstrel ; commerce shall bring from afar whatever is exquisite for ease, comfort, or beauty; the gold shall shine in vessels of rare workmanship on the table, and the cedar shall be inlaid with ivory, and the diamond shall sparkle on the finger and the brow ; purple, scarlet, and fine linen shall be his household clothing ; the day shall be filled up according to the regimen of wisdom ; 26 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. business, philosophy, and pleasure shall be the three graces of life. He has erred in seeking happiness in only one thing ; but it will assuredly be found in the many. Especially will it not be wanting when religion, enshrined in the temple of Jehovah, blesses all ; yet, says the King, * All is vanity* THE VANITY OF THINGS ENDORSED BY MANY. There is probably no sentiment more universally endorsed by mankind, after they have arrived at and beyond middle age, than this of the disappointed King ; and the mode in wliich they arrive at his con- clusion is similar. They start in life with a sense of trouble in the present ; but they hope to solace themselves for the tears of childhood with the joys of youth. Manhood will give freedom and in- dulgence, and riper years will bring riches and en- joyment. But as one stage after another has been passed, after the hard experience of school and ap- prenticeship, the cares of business are also found to be wearisome. If they have sought the solace of meretricious pleasures — draining the wine-cup, and visiting the house of her whose feet take hold on hell — an experience is theirs so bitter, that they often curse life while they fear death. But though they have never indulged in unlawful pleasure, and have observed the laws of moderation, still there is WISDOM, PLEASURE, AND WORK. 27 the complaint that all things are unsatisfactory. The world has disappointed them, and they feel as though they had a just right to quarrel with Provi- dence. Few, probably, come to the conclusion that tlie lot of the happiest is, all things considered, no better than theirs. Providence, they think, has its prizes for its favourites, and they are not of the number. They probably think that if Solomon was not happy, he ought to have been. Observation, however, will continue to affirm, that a perfect hap- piness is not to be found in this world ; not in the treasures of knowledge, nor the treasures of wealth ; not in business, and certainly not in pleasure ; not in illicit pursuits, nor even in the lawful ; but that still in the best estate of men there is an insatisfac- tion which urges on to higher aims — a something which still beckons us away to seek after fountains wliich are purer, and which is ever whispering in the ear of the soul that these are the mere husks of happiness out of which the kernel has been threshed. This, we are certain, is the general experience and sentiment of manldnd. III. INSATISFACTIOK •All is vanity.' — Ecoles. i. 14. THE AUTHOR OF PROGRESS. yAEIOUS explanp.tions have been offered of this strange restlessness and insatisfaction. Two main ones seem worthy of attention. One set of observers see in all this insatisfaction the mainspring of activity, progress, and improve- ment. If man, say they, found happiness at any point of his life, he would cease to aim at a higher state. The most contented people are ever the most barbarous, and the beast of the field is more contented than the lowest classes of men. With animals and men of the lowest grade there is stag- nation. The new generations are no improvement on the past. The bird builds its nest, the wild beast inhabits a den, and the Indian a hut, as their ances- tors did fifty generations ago. Not until you pro- duce insatisfaction, not, rather, till you give the mind ability to conceive the higher state, and aim 28 INSATISFACTION. 29 at elevation from the louver, will the world be im- proved. Without iiisatisfaction the arts would be impossible, and all higher enjoyments unknown. Without it man would be a beast. It is a neces- sity of the superior organization, with its inhabiting soul, that it be unsatisfied with what is inferior to it, and it ever strives to bring the discordant ele- ments of things into forms of use and beauty, in accordance with its own higher nature. It has enjoyments in common with the beast ; but it has a higher nature, for which these enjoyments are but husks. Sense without reason and imagination and wonder may be gratified with the sensual, but mind demands the true and the beautiful; and as the true is ever difficult to attain, and the beautiful never perfect, the higher nature in man goes continually about seeking for these as though it yet possessed nothing, and could not be happy while that which was wanting was not found. So goeth ever forth the high intellect and soul of man, leaving the ninety and nine enjoyments at home, that he may find among the mountains of speculation or practical being the more excellent things that remain to be discovered. And ever the nobler and more far- reaching in view the mind is, the more will it wander, and seek, and win for itself the lost or undiscovered. For there would seem to be in the I''" i; 30 THE WISDOM OF THE KINO. darkness and the light around, ever the dim forms of the good and the excellent, which the swift and valiant soid may, by powerful effort, secure for itself, and embody in some tangible and sweet-smiling image. And ever, as one after another of these is secured, doth the soul long for others, so that new enjoyments may smile on it. Who, then, can com- plain of this unrest, which is ever adding new beauties and graces to adorn humanity, whic^ makes man a fellow-worker with God, who gave him the world — the mundus — the adorned — that he might make it ever more beautiful ? ^ This, then, is one explanation of the matter. Insatisfaction was implanted in the high and noble nature of man, that he might improve, ennoble, and beautify the world — the present e; hly scene of tilings. What the goad is to the ox, the spur to the horse, and fear to the slave, insatisfaction is to man. It urges him forward in a career in which he might flag, making his aim still higher the more and greater his attainments. THE SPIRITUAL VIEW. A second and higher view is that which, while admitting that insatisfaction is the mainspring of activity and progress, still further affirms that it is 1 Ruskin has tLis sentiment developed somewhere. INSATISFACTION. 31 indicative of a nature in man to be satisfied, not with the terrestrial, but with the heavenly, — not with the things of sense, but with the tilings of faith, — not with the creature, but with God. Tliis is surely the true explanation of that unrest of the soul which still, after each new conquest, whether of truth or means of enjoyment, feels un- satisfied. It is the higher nature in us tliat is still ungratified. We want to know truth and beauty — all truth and beauty ; not merely their outward -En- dows, but themselves. In a region of limitji n this is impossible ; but when divested of those bouiiy organs, which were fitted only to know and enjoy the material, the soul, either by some higher and nobler form of organization, or of its own innate nature, shall — so reason and the revealed testify — know even as it is known. It shall feel satisfied in the higher region of discovery. But we must stop with having indicated the view ; for who can de- scribe what passes in the regions of the immortals ? If it were now knowable, it would be unsatisfactory. Persons who attempt to describe heaven darken counsel by w^ords without knowledge. There is a veil which now covers all, and which shall only be lifted for each of us by the hand of death. Meanwhile with reverence we bow before the Holy of Holies. "■■1*1 32 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. THE SIN ELEMENT. But still further, as elucidative of this unrest of man, we have to take ijito account the fact of de- pravity and sinfulness. I rather think that this fact, however, is not to be considered as explanatory of our insatisfaction so much as of dissatisfaction. Insatisfaction is right ; dissatisfaction is wrong. God intended that the soul sliould not be satisfied ; but He wants that we shall not be dissatisfied. We are not to sit down contented with the present, making no attempts for its improvement ; but we are not to go about whining f^nd complaining. Our business is to make things as right and enjoyable as possible, not to scream out our despair, and rock like mourners in the lazy chair of indolence. The improvement and rectification of things which have become disordered, is the business of the good, renewed man ; but the feeble cry of impotence in the presence of the ills of life, is closely related to the sin which produced them. The man who, un- satisfied with attainments, and states of being around liini, attempts to rectify and rise above the evils, is pursuing the wise and noble course ; but he who vents his dissatisfaction in complaints, or curses, or denunciations, without attempting the removal of the ills, is a nuisance to be put down or got rid of INSATISFACTION. 33 as soon as possible. Eatlier go forth, like Solomon, to investigate what may be the good which men should do and enjoy ; like him, plant and Iniild ; but at the same time it will not be wise either to plunge into his sensualities, or to reiterate too often, although it does contain an important tiath, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. Much light is yours, which Solomon, wise as he was, had not. He probably had glimpses of the depravity of his own heart, and generally of the human heart, yet hardly with the demonstrative clearness with Avhicli it comes home to our convictions ; and lie °eems to have been greatly in the dark relative to that future life which hath been brought to light througli Christ, to which is reserved the full enjoyment of the soul. He said. All is vanity, because he did iiot know the all. His eye ranged only over time. Eternity was all darkness. S, IS who s, or d of id of LIFE A SCHOOL. And this summons before us anotlier view expla- natory of the insatisfaction of man. AVe are here preparing, conning our lesson, forming our character — a character which is to last with us for ever. We were not sent here that we might enjoy, but that we might learn, that we might grow up strong men fit to live througli the everlasting ages. Yet the great c 34 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. body of even Christian people are looking for en- joyment as their sole end and aim. They have renounced the world that they may have the joy?5 of Christianity. Christ promised them a cross, but they want comfort. They will have positive bliss, present fruition, instead of patience, experience, and hope. Fools ! The Christian life is a race, a battle, a work, a crucifixion. Through the portals of death alone we gain the Elysian fields. This insatisfaction which Solomon found in all things, then, we are to attribute to the design of God, that man should go on in progressive stages of improvement ; to show him his true nature, and that he possesses a soul that is immortal, to be satis- fied only with nobler things than this world can afford. It is also to be attributed in large measure to the disordered state of his soul, which is out of true harmony, and sends forth dissonant sounds wlien struck by the hand of Providence. The pre- sent is still further a state preparatory to the higher condition, a state in which character is formed, in which, by wrestling with the evil, we got strong and noble. AVith these views, we may see that however pertinent the wail of Solomon over the vanity and vexations of life was in his day, it sounds sadly offensive now. It was like the note of the cuckoo ushering in the spring of thought, hailed also then, IN SATISFACTION. 35 as, though harsh and monotonous, it proclaimed the seed-time of reason and revelation ; but, like the note of the same bird in autumn, out of place now when the full harvest of revelation waves before our delighted eyes. Vanity of vanities in itself, our world is yet the substantial vestibule, out of which we shall erewliile find entrance into the glorious realms of permanency and bliss. JUSTICE TO SOLOMON MUST LOOK TO HIS LAST CONCLUSION. We should not do the wise King justice did we not refer to his conclusion. AVe are to look upon the Book of Ecclesiastes as jottings of the >'arious experiments of Solomon in the pursuit of enjoy- ment — a pursuit which he seems to have under- taken with the view not so much to his own selfish pleasure, as to make known the results of his whole experience for the benefit of the sons of men. There was method in his folly, and philosophy even in his sensuality. He does not propose him- self as an example to imitate, but as a beacon to warn youth away from ihe dangerous shoals, and quicksands, and rocks, where he suffered shipwreck. His work was something like the log-book of Arctic explorers, which tells of icebergs ready at each moment to crush their vessels, but also of the i I' 36 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. impossibility of sailing by any northern passage to the lands of the far west — a warning from all thoughts of commerce through the regions of eternal frost. So are we warned that not this way which he sailed on the voyage of life are we to expect to come to the port of all human wishes, but by another course altogether, which at the very con- clusion of his voyage he indicates. ' Eemember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them.' ' Let us liear the conclusion of the whole matter ; Fear God, and keep His commandments : for this is the whole duty of man.' PRACTICAL SUMMARY. Not in acquiring knowledge, then, though it be power — not in accunndating the truths of science, valuable as they are — not in the higher regions of philosophic investigation — not in deep inquiries into the causes of good and evil — not in the wine- cup, though it promises fairly with traitorous tongue — not in sensuality — not in commerce or business, or in the works of art, are you to expect to find unalloyed enjoyment. Neither are you to be disappointed at not finding it there. It was not intended you should. The immortal in you cannot HJ INSATISFACTION. 37 be fed on such things. You are related to the angels — you are sons of God. Through duty shall you come to strength, and stature, and fulness of development. Suffering shall make you men. Dis- appointments l)elow shall prepare you for the frui- tion above. Tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, and experience lioj)e ; but the fear of God must be the foundation of all, and the love of God the crown of all. Fear God, and keep His commandments : for this is the whole duty of man. Such is the general outline of the lesson which we are to derive from the projects of Solomon in pursuit of happiness. We shall have yet to deal with the insoluble questions which pei'plexed him, as well as the puzzles, but which are of easy reso- lution. Meantime, let each of us look up to the shining lights of truth, which shed their radiance over the dark paths of life, walking in the conscious guidance of the Spirit of God, and the revelation of .^lis grace. If you seek wisdom, let it be the wis- dom which cometh from above ; if pleasure, let it have the sanctions of conscience, enlightened by the Word ; if you devote yourselves to business, let it be with the consciousness that you are fellow- workers with God. ' In aU thy ways acknowledge God, and He will direct thy steps.' IV. THE UNrPtOriTABLENESS OF LABOUR. ' What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun ? ' — Eccles. i. 3. ' I have seen all the works that are done under the sun ; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit,' — Eccles. i. 14. * Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I laboured to do ; and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.' — Eccles. ii. 11. THE QUESTION. THE first question which Solomon raises for our consideration is a very important one. It is, What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun ? NARROW AND BROAD VIEWS OF PROFIT THE MATERIAL. The King here takes a wide and comprehensive view of the profitable, and one with which it will do us no harm to familiarize our conceptions. We are much taken up with questions of profit and loss ; but with us that means a cash account, or property which represents cash — or, rather, is represented by it. The dollar, or the house, or 88 THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 39 its furniture, or the field, or its productions, or articles of trade out of which there may be pro- duced something that is wanted, which we can sell and turn into money or use, — these things are alone accounted profit by us. But it is evident that there is more in Solomon's thought, when he inquires. What profit hath a man of all his labour ? In the monetary view, his question would only be pertinent to the case of the slave, or to the poor labourer who had never succeeded in accumulating any of the goods of this world. To him, indeed, it would be very pertinent. The slave owns not him- self, nor can he own property ; and many a poor man is in just as bad a case. Millions of our race are compelled to toil through life for a bare sub- sistence. The price of their labours hardly suffices to sustain their ability to continue them. A roof to cover them, a little clothing to protect them from the cold, and the poorest kind of food on which the human frame has found it possible to subsist, — this is the portion of all their labour ; but at the end of the year, or at the end of life, they are as poor as when they commenced, ai 1 they have no profit of all the labour they have unu^rtaken under the sun. We, like Solomon, they may bay, have engaged in building, and planting, and beautifying things ; but no profit has come to us. Though we have helped ^IFT 40 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. i ■ to build many houses, we dwell in hired rooms ; thougli we have planted pleasant trees, we gather no fruits from them ; though we have decked many- gardens, we dare not pluck one of tho flowers. Others have the profit ; we only had the labour. The wise man's question has a meaning which we, at least, can imderstand. We would almost think, in reading this sentence, that he was not a king, but one of ourselves ; or a poor, dusty, ragged labourer, striving to keep body and soul together, and support a wife and little ones in a lot in no respect superior to our own. Again, in this material point of view, his ques- tion would be pertinent to that numerous class of society, who, after much exertion and application to business, have been unsuccessful ; who find that, after what were considered the wisest speculations, and after success seemed to have borne them up high on its swelling tide toward the rich haven of prosperity, have found all their hopes stranded or broken on the rocks. All their brain-work and hand-work, and all their organization of labour, while they may have been conducive to the general welfare, have produced for them only a depleted purse and wasted credit. The anxieties they have endured have only ruined their health ; and as they near the end of their eventful life, dust-stained and THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 41 travel-worn, the philosophy of Solomon, that all is vanity and vexation of spirit, and that man has no profit of anything wliicli he undertakes under the sun, contains the sum of their experience ; and they almost think. Surely Solomon was one of us : pro- bably he felt all the evils we have experienced in em- barrassed finances ; his expenses had exceeded his income, and he was at his wit's end how to pay his bills as they became due. ' There is no profit ' — that, at least, is one Avise sentence which has come down to us from antiquity. ' Vanity of vanities.' But there is also a large class of mankind Avho cannot adopt the sentiment of Solomon in this meaning. They have had profit. They have houses and lands, and a large balance with their bankers. They have money with M'liich to procure every en- joyment on which they set their hearts. Their table is richly supplied ; their home is the abode of luxury and beauty. Profit ! Tlieir lal)our has procured it — the winds have w\^fted it to them on every breeze. Not in any material vie^v can they adopt tlie language of Solomon. On every hand they find witnesses to contradict him. In the house, in the street, in the harbour, in the stock- market, in the wide-spreading lands, they find good reason to discard the sentiment : all substantial, nothing vain, — profit beyond the wildest visions of 42 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. youthful hope from all their labour. Certainly, Solomon meant not what he said. These two classes — the unsuccessful and the suc- cessful — will give very different answers to the ^ question, What profit ? The proportion of the successful to the unsuc- cessful is not easily arrived at. Of men in retail business in some large cities, more than sixty in the hundred fail ; while the proportion of merchants who become bankrupts, in the same cities, is some ninety in the hundred. But the men of business are but a small proportion of the population of great cities, and still smaller of countries. Still, we should not wonder if there shoidd be found, on examination, somewhat of a similar proportion of mechanics and artisans who find no profit from all the labour which they have undertaken under the sun — probably three without profit for one who has remaining, after bare subsistence, what might be called a balance worthy of the name of profit. We should have three complaining wdth Solomon, for one whose experience in this material view will go against him. This is likely a very high average of those who might be called successful, and obtains probably only in very favoured districts ; while in others there are against every one no doubt ten who would say, ' We have no profit in all our labours.' THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 43 CAUSES OF FAILURE. The causes of this poverty of tlie massoM are many. Chance — meaning by that, as the poet ex- presses it, * direction which thou canst not see ' — is at the foundation of all. Then there are some endowed with those talents which ensure success in fortune-making, and by which tliey distance all competitors. The habits which one has formed almost of necessity bring abundance to him, while it is the nature of another to labour little and to spend much. From the very nature of competition, it is necessary that some should go beyond others. We cannot have equality. If the goods of all were equally divided to-day, before a year marked differ- en(;es would be apparent. Some by that time would have become poor, while others would have laid the foundations of fortune. We must ever have the rich and the poor — the labourer and the organizers of labour — those who have no profit of all their works, and those who count it by thousands and tens of thousands. BROADER VIEW. But, as we intimated before, it is not in this merely material phase that the question is to be viewed. It has other aspects. Solomon speaks 44 THE WISDo.,: OF THE KING. I; ■ not merely of labour in general, but of his own labours in par*^' 'ilar. These represent much mate- rial wejilth. .0 cities which he lias l)uilt briug him largo revenues ; his grounds produce abun- dantly; his gardens are loaded with luscious escu- lents and fruits. We do not hear that inclement seasons smite liL lands with famine, or that impor- tunate creditors dun him for payment. Everything he i)uts his hand to is successful. Riches are around liim ; beauty, in every form, and colour, and attitude, meets his eye. His table groans beneath all that is exquisite, f^om every clime. Yet, as he moves amid all tluF ^ndid panorama of pleasant things, he says, 'Wntv ^jrofit ?' We cannot l)ut think that Solomon's views on the question are greatly astray. His dissatisfaction arose, not from the vanity of the things, but from the vanity of his own heart. It is of the nature of every excess to produce lassitude, and nervousness, and miserable feeling ; and certaiidy a king who indulges in every species of excess is not in a good position, however strong may have been his original mind, to give us a true view of the nature of human life, or a right view of things in general. We are not to suppose that wine and sensuality would not produce their usual effects on the body and mind of Solomon, or that he was exempt from the usual THE UNPROFITABLENKSS OF LABOUU. 45 effects with wliicli flattery fills a monarch's ears. He coiniiienced life with unusual exjiectations. He was determined, if possible, to find out that which it '.vas good for the sons of men to do and to enjoy; hut he did many tilings which the sons of men should not do, and he drank of cu s of which none ever yet tasted who did not suffer, to the destruc- tion of the capacity of purer enjoyments ; and all lie can say that is of any value is, ' I have missed the way; avoid my errors. Fear God, aiid keep His commands.' REVIEW OF THE QUESTION. Now our question recurs, Is there any profit in a mai 's labour? We think there is. There is one of Solomon's gardeners. He has not been at the banquet last night. Rut that thought does not trouble him, for he never supposed that such honours were for slaves like him. He comes into the King's garden in the early morning, before the orb of day lias begun to show himself over the mountains of Judea. The dews have left on every leaf and petal a mirror in which the sun may be- hold an image of himself. The flow^ers are expand- ing themselves to receive his influence and deck themselves with the colours of his rays. Birds of glowing plumage and sweet voice flit among the MM 46 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. ' branches of the fruit-laden trees. Song, beauty, and fragrance fo'-" .1 a sweet company wliich goes rejoicing through the aisles of the man's soul. He bends to look on this pure lily of the valley, whose cup under his cultivation is larger, and whose colour is purer than can again be found in all the gardens of Judea. Tliat vine, too, has larger grapes ; that pomegranate a more luscious flavour. These flowers and fruits are his pride ; he has a fellow-feeling for them ; they are his children. His labour, which gave him healtli while he cultivated them, has also reared around him these joys. Solomon, who pays him well ior cultivating those plants and fruits, may find but little profit wlien he comes forth amid the noonday sun, under the influence of the vapours of last night's wine-cup, and may say, ' What profit ?' But this gardener kno\vs better, and sweet rejoicings fill his soul ; while the monarch, with brow severe and frowning, repeats the main axiom of his philosophy, 'Vanity of vanities.' PROFIT EVERYWHERE. There is not a single pursuit in life out of which the food of satisfaction may not be extracted. Some pursuits are among more lovely objects than others, but the beautiful and proportionate soul can put into even common things its own order and fitness, THE UNrEOFITABLENESS OF LABOUE. 47 and in them see its own image. It would not be possible for man to work satisfactorily were it not for the use and beauty whicli he can put into his work ; but this is the fruit of his labour — the satis- faction he has in beholding his own thought mir- rored there. The arcliitect is satisfied when he sees liis conceptions of truth, beauty, and fitness embodied in the temple of wood or stone. When the ship of fair proportions leaves the place of her birth, and rides on the water, a thing of beauty, there is not a man who has been employed in her construction that does not feel a glow of satisfaction sufficient to reward him for all his labours. Then the carpenter, builder, and shoemaker must all feel, in working the uncouth forms of matter into things of use and proportion, a pleasure which renders labour light and life enjoyable. THE MOST PROFITABLE EMPLOYMENT. Those who are employed in the productions of art have a more direct pleasure arising from their busi- ness, perhaps, than those who are engaged in com- merce or trade. if I could only be a merchant ! thinks the steam-engine maker or the saw-mill worker. Well, what then ? Supjjose you were ? You would have accounts to keep, you would have markets to watch, and other excitements ; but would 48 THE WISDOM OF VIIE Ku^G. you have so mucli satisfaction in correspondence, and calculations of commission, and tare and tret, and bills of exchange — though there is a pleasur- able excitement in the knowledge of these mysteries too ? Yet are they, after all, as agreeable as fitting- valves, polishing cylinders, and proportioning the various wheels and cranks to the sweet working of the machine ? There is a farmer, too, who thinks his a poor lot in life ! The fool ! Why, what is the merchant or the trader working so liard for every day, but to amass as much wealth as will enable him to go in a green eld age to enjoy it andd the very things wh^cli the farmer would leave to adopt the merchant's business ? A young man quits the country to make money in the city, that he may go back to the country and enjoy the remainder of life. It seems, does it not, that he would be wiser to stay in the country amid the fresh breezes, the scent of flowers, and the trees ? And if he have a well-pro- portioned nature, not smitten witli the shows and vanities of life, he will find in the very objects around him, and wliicli his industry has caused to spring up, the fruit of all his labour. Let it then be kept prominently before the mind that, really, there is fruit of labour to him that works and opens his eyes to see and enjoy it. THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 49 NO PROFIT IN IDLENESS. I suppose that that man will never enjoy labour who does not work. One who is continually going about pleasure-hunting, saying, Who will show us any good ? — who is offering rewards for the inven- tion of a new pleasure — experience has de nonstrated that these are the most miserable of men. Better grind knives and scissors than go about without any- thing to do, seeking new sensations. But even when we do labour, we require to open our eyes. Matter-of-fact people are the least matter- of-fact people in the world. He was, no doubt, a very matter-of-fact man concerning whom Words- worth says, — * A primrose by the river's brim A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more ; ' but there were many matters of fact in the prim- rose which he did not see : its proportion, its em- blematic nature, its power to evoke the emotions of the soul, these were hidden things from him, yet great and glorious facts. The eyes of our under- standing require to be opened that we may see the glorious things concealed within the visible wrap- pings. Nature is just like those parcels sent from D u m 'mt.-mu^m^',. II' 50 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. dry-goods shops in common grey paper, but which when opened up display to the eye things very lovely. There is the dust and smoke and sweat wrapjied round all our works of labour, but inte- riorly is there not fitness and proportion and har- mony ? If we have set up as our only standard of usefulness something which we can eat or drink, we may say, 'What profit?' when we have done; but if we take these other things into account, we shall be ready to say, ' Well, there is some good in labour after all.' REAPING FROM OTHERS SOWING. This will the more appear if we can get our thoughts out of the regions of mere selfishness. That we may see how we ought to take a wide view of the value of labour, let us reflect how other men have laboured, and we have entered into their labours. Our fathers before us, and our brethren around us, have all added to the stock of useful human things ; and so ought we. No man liveth to himself. We all live a vicarious life. If we do not enjoy much of the fruits of our own labour, we at least have enjoyed the fruits of the labour of those who were before us. But this appears to have been one of the reasons why Solomon saw no profit in all the labour which a man undertook under the THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 51 sun, namely, he was compelled to leave all ; and this necessity was aggravated by the thought, that liis heir might be a fool and not a wise man. He should have reflected that others left for liim much that was comfortable and enjoyable ; and if this did not mitigate his sorrow for leaving them, it should at least have reconciled him somewhat to the justice of the dispensation. WHY GRIEVE TO LEAVE THE UNPROFITABLE ? It ought also to be remarked, that Solomon is dissatisfied with his labours, yet grieves to leave them. He says there is no pleasure in them, and yet it pains him to think of another possessing them ; he finds tho.m vanity and vexation of spirit, concludes that the dead is better than the living, and that the unborn is better than either, though it is hard to see how one who has yet to go through a sad experience is in a better case than one who has got to the end of the briery way. There is in all this, perhaps, a latent feeling, very connnon, that though he had not found out the secret of enjoying them, his heir would. Still, let us do justice to the monarch. His chief grief was that a fool might enter upon his possessions, might dissipate tlie riches lie had amassed, and destroy the labours of his hands. This is a serious consideration to every 'if t ! .1 ii- 1 d \ !,' 52 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. benevolent heart. There are people who, when all is going to wreck around, may find consolation in the thought that the world will last their day. But most people have a feeling that they would like the world, their own country, their own homestead, to go on prosperously, even after they have no further personal interest in its concerns. A strange bond of sympathy unites us to the world of the future, though we shall have no conscious interest in it, and no unconscious interest beyond the two feet by six where our dust reposes. A man about to leave the world has as strong a sympathy for it, just as much interest in its works, and labours, and politics, as if he had many years yet to live. He lives in his children and friends ; he lives in the trees he has planted, and the houses he has erected. It is not possible to sever his love from that world which was once his home, and where he suffered and en- joyed so much. He wants to foresee, if not see, its prosperity. Besides, who shall tell us that we shall not also have a future conscious interest in the works and labours that are done under the sun ? It was said to Daniel, ' Thou slialt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days,' — a sentence which, wliatever be its full meaning, certainly indicates that we are in some way interested in the future developments of this world. In Solomon's anxiety, THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 53 therefore, about the heirship of his labours, we find a laudable sentiment, — one which should not merely exist in all our breasts, but which also should lead to important action, and which we are glad to think does. Conscientious people not only try to do sub- stantial work, build substantial houses, but also to raise up substantial men and women — wise, not fools. It is more than probable that Solomon's anxiety about the way in which his works would be treated by his heir, arose from neglect in his duty to his heir. His whole life is unfavourable to the supposition that he paid much personal attention to the cultivation of the minds and consciences of the heir or heirs-apparent. His family relations were by no means conducive to the good training neces- sary to his children. He must have had his time wonderfully occupied with his many mariiages, and the distractions arising out of the manifold relation- ships therein springing, to say nothing of his studies and philosophies, and city-building and temple- building, and commercial engagements. His chil- dren might, indeed, have numerous instructors to teach them the various wisdom of the day ; but at least Solomon could have no knowledge how far these instructions were given or profited by. The great probability is, that he knew very little about Kehoboam, and that Kehoboam cared very little * im 54 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. about him, and that it would have been a wonderful thing if he had been less foolish than he proved himself to be. The monarch had just cause for his anxiety. THE DISSIPATION OF EICHES. Little profit, indeed, has that man in the labour which he hath undertaken under the sun, who looks forward with uncertain mind to the probable dissi- pation of all the riches he has amassed, to the dilapidation of the buildings which he has reared, to the loss of a kingdom which he has established and covered with renown. Little wonder that the King should go about dissatisfied with life, dis- satisfied with his labours ; but we do wonder that he was not more dissatisfied with himself. He never seems to suspect that much folly was mingled with his wisdom. He finds plenty of cause for complaint about the vanity of the world, the vanity of labour, of pleasure, of sensual indulgeroe, and of wisdom ; but he sees not that the vanity of his own heart was the reason of all the other vanities, — that his own indulgences were the cause of his weariness and misery, — that neglect of the plain requirements of the natural laws of God left him a mere wreck of humanity, — that the manners and customs of the times, the licentious morals of the court, were at THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 55 the foundation of that wail of his, and that espe- cially in his fear about the wisdom of his heir, he was largely to blame. It by no means follows, that after the most judicious training, children will turn out well, nor is it an invariable rule, that those who have been neglected shall turn out ill ; but it is- a general rule, that where we want true wisdom to grow, we must sow its seeds in the sj^ring-time of life ; and it is also a general rule, that neglect in training, or bad training, will produce woful results. It may seem strange that we should suspect Solo- mon of this neglect — Solomon, who is so often quoted for his wisdom in regard to the training up of children ! But we look to the facts of Solomon's history ; we look to the folly of the young Eeho- boam ; and we come to the conclusion, that a man may preach well to others, and give no heed to his own counsel. Indeed, the very abstractions of scientific and literary pursuits, while they enable their devotee to give wise advice, in great measure incapacitate him from taking it ; and if other bad habits are added, as in the case of Solomon, the son will in all probability be a fool. m ANXIETY ABOUT THE FUTURE GENERATION. It is a good thing that man cannot relieve him- self from anxiety about the world, even when he 56 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. ! i i i ii I ; i! n It i i I ' shall have passed away from it ; for this anxiety is the origin of all those exertions which he makes in raising up a worthy posterity. Happily he cannot act on the principle, * The world will last during my day :' therefore does he set himself with more or less of energy to provide that youth shall be trained in wisdom's ways ; tierefore always our prayer, that the rising generation may be better than their fathers were ; therefore our scliools, secular and Sabbath ; therefore our catechetical instructions, and maxims for the young. We may not be able to make any certain provision against the influx of a wide-sweep- ing folly. We are like the Hollanders, whose homes are beneath the level of the tide-waters, which some- times (do what the inhabitants will) make their efflux over and through the banks, laying provinces in ruins. But still with energy is the tide rolled back, and the inundating waters pumped out, and the land recovered. So we are ever in danger of being inun- dated by the waters of ignorance and vice, which tlireaten to sweep us away ; but by attention to our embankmviuts, to our moral laws and Christian insti- tutions, to our associations for stemming the course of vices which threaten our peace and content, we may be, and have, under the good providence of God, been able to keep our generations free from the devastating tides of immorality and secularism THE UNPROFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 67 which continually threaten iis. It is only by strict and constant attention to this duty on the part of a,ll — on the part of philos()[)hers, ministers, teachers, parents — that, living, as human nature does, below the tide-level of vice and ignorance, it may be presei-ved from destruction. Let any large portion of the com- munity be neglectful of their duty in this respect, and soon we shall see the glory of our nation over- whelmed, and the energies and labours of the past century brought to ruin. RESULTS YET UNSATISFACTORY. Though we have affirmed that many have profit from their labour — profit which appears in the shape of substantial goods, profit also in the enjoy- ment with which it was attended in the execution ; and though we have assigned as one chief cause of its unsatisfactoriness, the disorder of the nature which we bring to its performance, the blindness of eye with which w^e view it, refusing to see its beauty, or recognise its mysterious use ; and though we have, still further, admitted that our desire for the world's future welfare was implanted in us that we might be thereby urged to educate and bring up a seed to serve and glorify Him ; we are yet far from saying that the result of our labours is of a satisfactory kind. They fail, for they have no permanence. i -.1 ''h 58 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. I Time wears and wastes tlieni. The stone will decay, the iron will rust, and the gold will tempt the cupi- dity of the robber. We shall have to speak further yet of the insatisfaction which Solomon found in labour ; but in the meantime we cannot refrain from observing that, above and beyond the reasons which, in a former chapter, we assigned of a merely secular kind for this insatisfaction in the things with which man is called to deal, there was another reason to be found in his superior and immortal nature, — a nature not to be put off with mere objects of sense, though it be educated by their instrumentality, — a nature which, in its aims and aspirations after innnortal fame, gives indications of its own undying being — which, in its attempts to make a name that shall live through the future generations, gives evidence that, when it has passed through the portals of the grave, it still consciously beholds the ever-rolling events as they sweep through the cycles of time, and evermore, as it sees the designs and works of God approaching towards a higher perfection, feels within its ^,1 ,re which it did not previously exr>'»ri"»' . i, if (as we trust he did, with all hi. tiling id i ,^icrfections) he received the grace which is renewing, no doubt now has much brighter views of liie grand designs of God in making man, and giving him wherewith > be exercised with his THE UXrUOFITABLENESS OF LABOUR. 59 sore labour ; and sees, as we shall all, we trust, yet see, that God's purposes are good, however in this world lie may have failed in his appreciation of them ; and that out of the chaos a beautiful order of things is emerging, very good, and ever better, until the new heavens and the new earth shall be beheld in all tlieir beauty, leaving the heart nothing further to desire. ;■ it ! x\ '■% v%. I! i-M V. NOVELTY. 'One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever. The sun also arisetli, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his phice where he arose. The wind goeth toward the south, and turnetli about unto the north : it whirleth about continually ; and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the rivers run into the sea ; yet the sea is not full : unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. All things are full of labour ; man cannot utter it : the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear fdled with hearing. The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that which is done, is that which shall be done : and there is no new thing under the sun. *ls there anything whereof it may be said. See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us. 'There is no rememl)rance of former things ; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.' — Eccles. i. 4-11. CHANGE EVERYWHERE. s»' ALL things substantially stable are in a state of change, and have their peculiar activities as well as man, and as if intended to satisfy him, intent on novelties, with something new. But change is not novelty. He tliinks to see something new, but he sees only some old event, which first astonished and then tired his fathers and grand- «0 NOVELTY. 61 fathers, appealing to his sentiment of wonder in some different dress. The oblivion into which it is the tendency of all events to sink, favours the illu- sion that we are making discoveries. History has failed to keep a record of the past, and the news- mongers of the day call attention to the inventions, and discoveries, and extraordinary events which, for the time, boil up from the bosom of a world ever in a state of turbulent agitation, without suspecting that, long ago, other wonder-gazers and discoverers talked with astonishment of the same things, ere they were engulfed in the whirlpool, whence, after undergoing an accustomed cycle of gyrations, they are now cast up to the gaze of the marvel-lovers of the present age. To a man wlio wants something substantial and novel, this is a great vanity. Such is the amount of the sentiment of the King, trans- lated into the vernacular of our day. There are several ])()sitions here taken by the King which we may with profit investigate. Some of them are, indeed, truisms ; but truisms are often first truths, which require to he observed and laid down in our search after the hisrlier. The com- monest observation alone was required to discover that 'one generation passeth away, and another Cometh.' The abiding nature of the eai-th was also, up to a certain point, an easily established fact. ■'I "'si U m :i:i *ii 'M 'i 62 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. i 1 I 4 I- I The traditions of the past reached far back through many generations, all indicating permanence of the habitation, thorgh the tenure of the tenants was but short. Still, that the earth abide Lh for ever is a truth that does not lie on the surface of things. There are many things which, to the casual observer, apparently point in the oj)posite direction. Many things on earth seem to suffer consumption ; and before the positive science of modern ages demon- strated the absolute indestructibility of the least particle of matter, it would have seemed a very fair conclusion, that however long the earth, or even the sun, might continue in existence, there was a time coming when waste would do its work on them, and reduce them to nothingness — tha<", in the language of the poet, not only the ' cloud-capped towers, and gorgeous palaces, and solemn temples, but the great globe itself might yet dissolve, and, like an unsub- stantial pageant faded, leave not a wreck behind ;' or, in the words of another favourite of the nnises, — ' The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years. ' Nor is such an event impossible. And the immor- tality of the soul being a doctrine of faith, it may yet flourish in immortal youth, ' Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds. ' NOVELTY. 63 fii MAN SPIRITUAL ALONE PERMANENT. The generations of men will then be found to be the permanent things of the world, and instead of affirming that tlie generations come and go, in the sense that they become non-existent, while the material scheme continues, we shall see reason for affirming that the fashion of the world passeth away, but that the word of the Lord, and he that believeth and doeth it, abide for ever. THE BALANCE OF CHANGE. Very wonderful is this economy of nature by which everything is for the present held in the balance. Very wonderful is that machinery which brings the water from the seas to the highlands. Extraordinary is that power which sends our earth ever revolving upon its own axis and ever wheeling through its elliptic orbit in the heavens, giving us the agreeable vicissitudes of night and day, and summer and winter. Very astonishing are the laws by which the atmosphere is governed ; by which the winds are held in obedience, or, the rein being given to them, they go madly sweeping over the earth or the ocean ; but far more wonderful is that economy by which the human race, thougli short-lived as in- m \m M [. p* ifir 64 THE WISDOM OF THE KING, i ii ! I dividuals, sweeps on its course with ever accumu- lative force — short-lived as far as earth is concerned, and yet eternal. All things, we might say, save man, are explicable. We can calculate the orbit of our planet ; we attempt, at least, to form theories regarding the mode of its formation ; and we have made considerable progress in deciphering the record in which it has written its own history on its sur- face. We have made ourselves familiar with the inhaljitants of the great geologic eras, and can talk wisely of the carboniferous, rej)tile, and mammal periods of pre-adamite history. We know the laws of motion, of fluids, of the stars, and even of storms. The deep secrets of the former days have been umreiled, and those which still elude the eye of dis- covery we expect to see brought out some time shortly into light. We have even gone to a great length in discovering the nature and constitution of man. As far as he is a material being, he is known as the subject of material laws. Mind, too, has re- sponded to many of the interrogations which have been addressed to it, and the actions of men have been made the subject of calculation. The average of life and the average of honesty have been re- spectively made the basis of insurance. It is diffi- cult to discover any portion of the science of the natural man, into which his eye has not endeavoured NOVELTY. 65 to look. Yet is there miicli of his own most in- timate being which is a mystery to him. He is conscious of thoughts and feelings which he cannot explain. He came whence ? He goes whither ? Wliy is he here ? To wliat does lie tend ? Solo- mon could only say he cometli and lie goeth ; but neither he nor any other of the wdse has been able to pierce the myster\' from which he enters the golden gate of life, or into which he proceeds through the dismal gate of death. He brings with him no recollections, he returns to tell no tales. IMemory denies any past existence which speculation would give him ; but hope and faith have discovered for him a future, though of its special nature we know but little. That we shall be we know ; what we shall be we are ignorant. Let us take up some of the threads of thought which appear to form the material of Solomon's speculations. MAN NOT TO BE CLASSED ALTOGETHER V/ITH THE MATERLVL. The first thing that strikes us is, that he places the comings and goings of the generations of men in the same class with such events as the rising and setting of the sun, the changes in the ^\'ind, the importation of the waters from the ocean to the E ♦--'■ ; i i ^ I ¥ i 66 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. mountains, and their exportation from the hills to the seas. Tliis is all very well when considered as poetry, but not correct as a conclusion of science. The material idea is, that they are all fluctuating ; that man comes and goes as the waters of the river, as the turning of the wind. But there is this precise difference between man and the elemental things to which lie is comppred : the volume of the atmo- sphere and of the waters, taken as a whole, has been always the same, but the geierations of man com- menced with a single pair, and now they number a thousand millions. The wind rushes hither and thither according to the precise atmospheric laws ; the waters are collected in tlie clouds, fall upon the earth, and make their way to the ocean in conformity with well-known principles ; but it is the same air, it is the same wind, and there are the same amounts of them, from the beginning of the world to the present time. But this cannot be affirmed of man — especially of man as a thinking, moral, and spi- ritual being. As to his body, it may be affirmed that he is only a composition of earth, or of the materials of which the world is composed ; but as to his mind, conscience, soul, he is held to be a product, not educed from the material, but owning some other origin, or, if a product of the material, yet not destined to return to the material again, — a pro- NOVEL A. G7 duct rather of the all-creative Spirit, a breath of God, not destined to come and go as the winds, but to exist personally and eternally. It may not be pos- sible to establish this doctrine of the innnortality of the soul on rational grounds, or by reasonings satis- factory to the demands of demonstration ; but from the whole lustory of redemption as revealed, we must adopt the conclusion that he is not altogetlier ab- sorbed into the sum of material things at deatii, but that there is a seed, a germ of immortality wliich springs up out of the very grave itself, tliat there is a finer essence evolved from this material being, that our personality is not dissipated by death, nor is our consciousness destroyed. Of this truth the King appears to have had a glin^ise when he distinguishes the spirit of the man t -at goeth upward, from the spirit of the beast wliich goeth downward. MAN AND NATURE ALIKE IN LABOUR. A second correspondence which he observed 1)0- tween man and the elements of things was in labour. Man taketli labour, and all things are full of labour. This also is rather a poetical coincidence than a deep philosophical observation. The facts of the resemblance are patent to every eye. AM the things around us are in a state of motion. The ' 4Jrl ' i 68 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. earth, as a whole, careers through the slvy in its appoinced orbit ; tlie tides are ever swelling and de- pressing the waters of the sea ; the winds are ever agitating them ; tlie lieat is ever causing tliem to change places relatively, and is also ever drawing them np in vapour and mist, which hy their com- parative lightness are carried by the winds over con- tinents and islands, till, being condensed by the cold with Avhich they come into contact, tliey fall in genial rains or chilling snows or destructive hail- storms. Then coming down to earth, we see the waters wearing away the stones and the soil from the sides of the hills, and filling up the valleys and the mouths of rivers. The central heat — the fires of the earth — are also exerting their elevative power, so that here we find whole continents being elevated, rising above the former tide-marks, as other places are dej)ressed beneath them. In the depths of ocean, also, myriads of insects are building up the reefs which are to constitute the foundations of future islands. Earthquakes and volcanoes are doing their work of changing the forms of things. These laborious changes are esteemed the counter- part of the great changes which man produces on the surface of the earth. He is esteemed but as a portion of the great gang of natural agencies wliich are with immense labour changing the order of I NOVELTY. 69 •'fii things. It should be observed, however, that his agency is of a totally different kind from that by which these inanimate objects are urged forward. His is voluntary, theirs is involuntary ; hiw is labour proper, theirs is only motion. A great Being over- rules and guides all man's actions as well as the material activities. But this Being has delegated to man an agency proper, and has associated him with Himself in carrying out His purposes ; while in the other He has located only blind forces. IVxan con- sciously beholds, and plans, and works ; but matter is subjected to laws of impulsion, by which it is shaped and moved. We do not agree with that view of man's nature which holds that his will is only a shadow, and that his free agency is only a deceitful illusioii. We grant that his actions are produced by motives, and yet we hold that he makes a really voluntary choice in the perf on nance of them. And in this voluntary election to do or not to do, is to be found the necessary basis of respon- sibility, and the righteousness of rewards and punish- ments, and the assurance of a continuous being in which these rewards and punishments are to take effect. But if we merely place man with all his labours in the same class Mdth the other labouring agencies of the world, if we consider him as subject to the same blind and necessary obedience to the ;:l t ^ iiii Izil^ 70 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. ' ; I I I forces of nature, we cannot rescue him from tlie same changes and fatalities by which the air and waters are reduced to new form, by which personal identity is utterly lost, and by wliich he is dissipated by the hand of death. Mind, then, would be nothing but a phase of matter ; consciousness but a passing cloud ; identity no longer a reality ; and the im- mortality of the soul a figment. But this is not the view which as Christians, looking to the promises of Jesus, to His resurrection and ascension, we are com- pelled to take. We are responsible immortal beings, and in the great panorama of existence we simply appear on the theatre of time not to become hence- forth non-existent, but to reappear in the future, glorious or degraded, according as we have used or abused that trust which God has given us in the performance of those labours to which we have been called under the sun. It may have suited Solomon's materialistic conceptions to class man's labour with the motion of matter, but we are bound, in the Christian view, to enter our caveat, ' Behold, a greater than Solomon is here !' There is much, indeed, of man's labour which springs from material impulses and subserves only material ends. All his labour for food, for clothing, for shelter, is the result of wants, material wants, but yet that impulse is directed by mind, intelligent NOVELTY. 71 forethouglit — an element not belonging to the labour of the \vaters and the winds. There is also recog- nised in man's labour another element. It is that which we mean wlien we say ' Ought,' ' You Ought/ 'You Owe it.' The owing — that which is duty and which is a great impeller of man in the performance of the various labours wliicli lie undertakes under the sun. Why does that man labour ? Because he ought, or he owes it to himself, to his family, to society, to posterity. Surely this element should be noted when we go to compare man's labour with the labour of the ocean and wind. And in these two elements — tlie element of intelligence and the element of duty — let us ever see the immense supe- riority of the labours of man over all the blind forces of nature which are continuously operating in the world, in his thinking and moral resolve ; and in these elements, too, let us not fail to discover the proper basis of innuortality, the qualities which make the spirit of the man to go upward, while the spirit of the beast goes downward. Another remark which Solomon made was, that these changes resulted in nothing new. He thought there was not anything of Avhich it might be said, Lo, this is new ! To a large extent he was correct. Still, we will require not to be carried away by assertions true in one sense, but false in others. i ..i 72 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. f i '( '■ ; I !■ : OK THE USE OF THE WORD ' NEW.' Olio of tliG chief causes of dispntiitioii.s among men is the use of words in (ILftorcnt and confused senses. The word new lias different senses. You say of tlie article of dress or furniture it is new, when it has received the last touch of the work- iiian, and has not heen sulijected to wear. But a l)hilosopher or a captious person may say, Yon call that new ? No, this part of it grew in the woods, that other on the hack of the animal ; and before the wood was, or before the wool was, that which forms the wood and the wool existed from time imme- morial. So how can you call it new ? It may be replied, But the article, whatever it is, has been produced in a different form ; the various elements have been combined in new relations, and therefore it is properly denominated nein. But our philo- sopher or captious debater says, No, the form even is not new, f'lr there are many things of the same form. You say. There is a new chair ; but neither are the elements which compose the chair new, nor is the form of the chair new, for there are thousands of others like it. How is it then new ? You still, however, notwithstanding this demonstration, insist that there are things which may with propriety be denominated new. No, not now-a-days, says the NOVELTY. 73 strict disciple of Solomon, That which we call dis- covery is only, as it were, the exhumation of tilings which, having been well known, are bomehow ab- sorbed into the sum of matters ; and now, by some curious turn, they have been thrown out again. All tliese changes of the ebbing and Howing of tlie tides, of the variation of the Avinds, of the inventions of men, are onlij changes — nothing new. There i.s nothing new under the sun. V rUOORESS. N(»w we aflirm, that while all the changes which occur in nature are by the operation of the same laws, yet that there has been progress made in matter taldng on itself higher forms ; or rather, God, by fixed principles of action, is ever producing a highf^r and nobler set of objects. If any one says, All things continue as they were since the creation, we say. No, they do not. We have satisfactory evidence that the world of mattei* has gone through different stages of development. We have satisfactory evidence that at one period of its history neither man nor any of the present tribes of animals, nor even trees, were the same as those which are now to be found. There was once a time when gigantic ierns and palm-like trees covered the main portion of the sui'face of the earth. We have evidence >'■ n 74 THE WISDOM OF THE KIlsG. ; that at one time great reptiles were its chief inha- bitants. We know tliat we iind the skeletons of many tribes of r.uimals now extinct, of animals which required other conditions for life than those which now obtain on the portion of the eaith where they are found, and conditions in which the present inhabitants could not exist. The fact is, God has been continually creating plants and ani- mals on the otirth suitable to its various progressive stages of development. So that while we may with certainty affirm that the laws of matter are the same now as ever they were, it is also to be affirmed that at various points of time God has interposed to bring upon the stag 3 of existence new and higher orders of things — new things under the sun, chough Solomon ftiiled to discover that it was so. IS THERE NEV: DISCOVERY ? But let us see how the affirmation of Solomon will stand witli regard to the period of man's exist- ence on tlie world. Is it indeed the fact that he, in later periods, has discovered nothing that was not originally taught him ; or has no succeeding generation been wiser — knowing more., becoming stronger, effecting more than any of its prede- cessors ? Is all that which we call invention and Sole the ■ nd they but not II The astron ^vJioIe NOVELTY. 75 discovery but a repetition of some previously known and forgotten thing ? It is no doubt true that a great deal of that which passes for new, and which may be announced as grand discovery, is only a resuscitation of the forgotten. The great works whicli former ages have left, show that some of the mechanical princi[)les which have been considered the discoveries of modern ages must have been known thousands of years since. Painting, sculpture, architecture, have long since, we might say, ceased to be original arts. Medicine probably has added but little that is new to tlie pliarmacopneia of former days. Yet still we are of opinion, that if we compare the state of knowledge, science, and art, as they existed in th(^ time of Solomon, with their condition now, we must come lo the conclusion that there are various things which would strike even an acute observer like Solomon as nev/. We are accustomed to speak of the steam-engine, the rail, the electric telegraph, nd such like inventions, as new; and we believe they ure new things. Steam, indeed, is not new, but its fi,pplication to motion is. Electricity hi not new, but its application to useful purposes is. The steamsliip is new. The scien'M^ of modern astronomy is new ; and positive sci* uce is, as a whole, new. There has been progress made. No ^i; :U' 76 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. doiiht many good old inventions liave been for- gotten, and probably the world was on the whole quite as enjoyable in former days as it is now ; but tliat is not the point in dispute. We hold that there is such a thing as novelty, and that there are novelties in all ages worth seeing. The age of bronze was an improvement as well as a change fiom the age of stone ; and the age of ii'on was different from, and superior to, either. And though it might be said that the same turmoils, and warS; and strifes for life were observable in each, yet would it not be correct to affirm that the same characters belonged to each, and that there was nothing new. i i i SHUKT-SIGHTEDNESS SEES NO PROGRESS, A A'iew whicli oidy ranges over a few years or a few centuries, especially wlien combined wiJi a fastidious taste, extravagant ideas of personal im- portance!, and an appetite jaded with enjoyment, is very likely, in its critical analysis of things, to find repetition everywhere, novelty nowhere. It is true, Nature repeats herself : tli3 same snows of winter, the same suns in summer. What is spring but the fresh garment woven out of the decayed clothing of the last year, — the old coat furbislied up by the patent process which has been in existence since NOVELTY. n the beginning ? The gi-ass and the grain are both there, having only changed places. The strong men have become old, the youths have sprung into manhood, and fresh troops of- children have taken the place of those "svlio begin to put on looks of staidness and bu;." ess-like importance. The spring, summer, fall, and winter of human life are ever re- peating themselves. Times of war succeed times of peace. We talk of new systems of education, new doctrines of faith. The critical, fastidious eye looks throngh nil, and sees sameness in all ; yet, if we mistake not, amid the sameness there is some- tliing that is new — it is not all monotony. The discordant, creaking sounds of the great world- instrument have among them some new tones. The barl)uric periods are not merely repeated in the civilised ages. The civilisations of Tudea, of Greece and IJonie, are not exactly the civilisations of Eng- land and France. Christianity, tbongh based on Judaism, has a spirit of its own. The h:pirit of Christ is surely not the same as the spirit of Solo- mon. The Son (jf Davitl has a kingdom better ordered than that of David. True it is that it is rfnt into pieces, that it is in practical captivity, that it subserves very partially the intention of its Founder ; but yet, even in its external aspects, it is an improvement on the old Temple-religion. Let jf ■ i lia( lil Mi! il!»ii" Hi 1 78 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. If US trace, if we will, the resemblance between the priests of Judea and the priests of modern times ; let us assert that l^harisaism is as rampant now as it was in Jerusalem ; that political virtue is bought now, a3 it was when, in the holy city, offices, civil and religious, were purchased o} unscrupulous meii. When we have exhibited the lines of correspondence, there will still bo found some marks, we would hope, of superiority and advancement. "VYe are unwilling to believe that under the government of God there is no progress being made, that Satan is still as powerful as ever, and that there is no hope of a still further advancement. That things are as bad as ever, is the Devil's gospel. It is not surely an Ixion's labour, this continual work of generations of men, without profit and without progress. Apart from the consideration that men enjoy their labours — that they are not more slaves, but that with a hearty good-will they work, and find in the very work itself fruit ; apart also from the further con- sideration that they are being prepared for a higlier grade of life, and tliat out of this world they pro- ceed to another higher state, — we do tliink we may affirm of the world itself, with its plenty, its liljerty, its prospects of peace, its better understood principles of morality, and its purer faith, that it is certainly becoming a better, more enjoyable place, than it was ' f NOVELTY. 79 in days gone by. Famines now are far more rare. With our means of locomotion, and with the spirit of benevolence, but small suffering arises now from want of food, Nations are being l)oru to liberty in a day. Eussia has emancipated her slaves, and 20,000,000 of chattels have become free men. Italy, so long debased and tyrannized over, is once more almost a kingdom. Slavery has ceased to exist over the whole U ' States. War is now conducted upon princ ; o of mercy unknown to ancient times. The wliole world is also being more and more leavened with the principles of Christian truth, and justice, and mercy. While, at the same time, we know that the means whereby man lives and enjoys are enlarged, and brought \\itliin tlie reach of large bodies of the people. No, no ! Looking on our age as a Avhole, we are convinced that it is not as Solomon would liave us to believe, and as critical pleasure-seeking philosophers of our own time w^ould have us to think — a mere repetition of the past. There are new elements introduced into it since Solomon's time. It has made great advances ; and we would not wish to go back to the times of Israel's King, even for the purpose of S(3eing Solo- mon arrayed in all his glory, hearing his words of wisdom, and seeing aU liis mighty works, or living under his despotic authority. t ,-' ■ li iP i ; ?■ '^ ■ill - \ I i ? THE WISDOM OF THE KING. OBLIVION. The statement, too, that oblivion covers all, is in a large measure to be conceded. There is no re- membrance of anything. Still there is such a thing as history. Tlie statement looks to the desire wliich man has for remembrance in the world which he has inhabited and caused to resound with liis deeds, and to the weakness of the means Ijy which he tries to perpetuate that memory. As to the desire for continued remembrance, we may remark that it exists with all, and is especially strong in those who have held a high position in the eye of the world. It is not alone to be found in the bosom of con- (pierors, or otlicr great men. It is nniversal. We would like that at least our little world should not soon forget us. The city or the town where we have lived and acted, we would be glad to think, when we liave arrived at the gate of death, should still remendjer us, or if they do not, from our ob- scm'e position, think of us, still we hope the select circle of our relatives and friends will long speak of us with kindly reminiscences. We feel, however, that but a very short time Mill elapse till we and our deeds are forgotten. It has been so with others, it will be so with us. A few more years, Mi^'t NOVEWy. 81 and all who knew us will ti, and none will be left !' ' ."'f"^«'^<'« '«ve followed. speak of u ; r. 'T' "'"' l"-"-^" l«-eath, or with perhaps an epifr^^h ! , f'"''"'*' ''"°™^«"- daad to the pa,«i,! if ' " ''" '" "'« "'^ "f «» a -an,' PerC ? ?'■' """ ""'" '«-'<' '-ed . elapse ere th " L hf '', " "'''' '°"=-' "^y i-ae scone has crumbled nr f..ii i, . / time will come when there wi ! f '' *"" *'"^ brance. A tew ,>,■„, • 7 "^ "' "» remem- - to fouua a fi^;— :/^^^^ -te descendants as'th i S:'' 1 ''. ''''' ""- soM of genius may embalm n ™'^- •'°™ "ud remote sH„l ' "^'^s in history <'-th. Solomon yet LT" " "" '^"'"""^ ''^ Wm in some de-L ? ? " remembrance of »"- is n:::;rL™rt'' "^^^*" "'^^ '- says, that of the vaS nZljl "''' "™ "■''»' "« .eniembrance Thev , , '■''"" "''"' " »J wept, and wrestS LIT , "", "'"' ^"J">'^'^. -*ough they had nlte'^trir"^^^"'^ pear— for this is tha n ' '^''^^ ''""^ ap- -e man- -.tlrany beTefirhr "'^ "''^"^™ "^ '^^ i"Jividual or to the I , '"'"' '^'""^■' '" ^e '■e led on earth iV T" """ "^'■''^"- »hich ea.th. I,, would have been ddferent he F i. 1: n 82 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. seems to think, could he liave made his name per- j)etiial, though of what advantage that is in reality, it is hard to see. Tt is one of the desires, however, implanted in the human heart, and for wise pur- poses ; for if it were not there, mankind would be much less careful of how they act while they are in this world. It may he questioned whether the de- sire for the good opinion of r>ur fellow-men in life and at death be not more conchicive to right living than any view to a future judgment of God. With those who disbelieve in a future state it will be the great motive impelling to right living, apart from the beauty and excellence of its rectitude, and we cannot too much cultivate the feeling. We may not do anything to make ns long remembered ; we may not have bestowed on us any greiil brilliancy of talent or splendour of genius ; but all of us have had a sphere of activity given us in which we may win the good opinion or execration of our fellow- men ; and certainly, at the period of our departure, though we may have nothing to boast of before God, we may have something for which we may be approved by man. By the law of perfection we may have sinned and come far short of the glory of God, but by the law of man's opinion we may stand in an exalted position. has syJJa the way noii-( spiiii soiial^ ^ve Jin us. The t J NOVELTY. 83 SUMMARY. AVithout, then, annoying ourselves witli any de- sponding views of tlio nselessness of the la])ours to Avliich, in conqjanionship with the waves of tlie sea, and the Avinds, and tlie riA'ers, and the universal motion of things, we are called, let us rather rejoice in that activity, and fulfil the great end allotted to us, though we may not clearly comprehend what it is ; remembering still, however, that though in this world the record of our deeds may he very imperfect, and, like our footprints on the sand, to he oblite- rated by the next tide that flows, the deeds them- selves shall reappear, and w^e with them. After this fitful, feverisli, eventful life is closed — after death has sealed our eyes, and friends have consigned us to the tomb— -after the stone that records our nrnie has crumbled in decay — after all who ever may yet syllable our name have followed us in death — after the other generations of men have all stamped their way across this field of life out of the darkness of non-existence into the land of substantiality, — we, spiritual beings, still existent, still sentient, stil"" per- sonal, shall meet with, and find, a reward in all that we have done under the sun. Our works do foUov,- us. The material things shall crumble in the dust. The temple, the estate, the money, the fame, all go to 84 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. the obliviou of eartlily things, but nothing ever dies, no deed is left without its record, no work without its reward. Up they come, those shadows, those reali- ties, those cruelties, those kindnesses, those labours, those neglects, — up they come, not as separate exist- ences, so much as all embodied in our own living spirits, deeds done in the body, whether they be good, or whether they be evil. Every one of them having a place in the person, just as the essence of our food and drink becomes part of our living frame, so they have become the warp and woof of our never-dying being. Yes, think this, your labours are all entering into the very constitution of your eternal being. The memory of them, tlie reality of them, lias taken up a place in it — is part of your very soul ; so that that declaration will be found to contain a despair- ful, hopeful truth, ' He that is filthy, let him be filthy still; he that is holy, let him be holy still;' a decla- ration, a warning of that God who desireth ncit the death of the sinner, but rather that he would turn unto Him and live. I; I VI. WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. ' And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness ami folly. '—EccLES. i. 17. ' And I turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly : for what can the man do that cometh after the king i even that which hath been already done. Then I saw tliat wisdom ex- celleth folly, as far as light exeelleth darkness. The wise man's eyes are in his head ; hut the fool walketh in darkness. ' — Eccles. II. 12-14. WISDOM, madness, and folly are tlie three heads under which Solomon sums up the actions of men. In his vocabulary wisdom is not mere knowledge, but a certain just appreciation of it ; folly also does not exclude knowledge, but may be viewed as a practical misapplication of it, while madness is a direct inversion of it. Wisdom deals with things in their proper relations as causes and effects ; folly often scorns the consideration of these, except for the immediate results ; but madness has a total disregard for results, either near or remote. Madness with the wise man is not what we call insanity proper, where reason is unseated and lunacy is triumphant. The best way to understand his 88 t". IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 !.l 1.25 '^IIIM IM - IIIIIM !? 1^ 12.0 i!im U III 1.6 v^ /\ c^ a c^. ^ .^r: <91 /A o / Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m V JN iV :\ \ ^9) V ■ 4 "^V.^ '^1%. "^ cP 4-' wj- ^ is7 86 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. meaning, is to take three classes or types of men. Here is one who studies subjects with a view always to extract out of them, not some transient pleasure? but substantial and useful results. He makes that the main end of all that he does. He ploughs, and sows, and reaps, with due observance of the seasons ; he never misses an opportunity to increase his wealth, to secure his healtli, to procure the mean , of perma- nent enjoyment. All his studies have relation to the practical, the useful, the permanent. Then the fool is one who does not calculate, who looks only to present enjoyment, whose actions are not squared by any just rule or measure : but the madman out- rages every principle of reason and common sense. We might say of Solomon, that he was wise while he studied, and in due measure planted, builded, and made beautiful the garden and forest ; that he acted the fool when he entered on his dissipation ; and that madness characterized his proceedings when he, to please his wives, built the temples of his false gods. No doubt, in all this procedure, however foolish or vain, he might still lay claim to the cha- racter of the wise man, as in all that he did lie was professedly making experiments in that which was good for man. In his folly he was not a fool like those with whom he associated. He held himself above them, even when he put himself on an equality WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 87 with them. He not only turned himself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly, but he proved them by trying what satisfaction they would bring. It is but fair to the monarch to remember that the attain- ment of wisdom was the object of his folly and mad- ness, — a dangerous experiment, and one out of which he did not come unscathed. Though a L'n.;, -id wise, he suffered sadly, in his character, and in his kingdom. It is on record that his wives turned away his heart from God, :^nd that for his apostasies, enemies were raised up to trouble him in life, and the kingdom was rent under his son after his death. Experiments of this kind should never be made. Plausible excuses may be urged by every one for vices and errors. ' To see life ' is thought to be necessarv. ' To knov/ the world ' is considered an excuse for a criminal career. It is possible to seclude ourselves too much from the view of those things which are of questionable character. We may grow up ignorant of much that is evil, and which it yet concerns us to know, and yet which it would be ruinous to our moral nature to come into close contact with. There is a middle path. It is that indicated in two descriptions of Solomon's con- duct relative to those dangerous things. He says he turned himself to behold wisdom, madness, and folly. Quite right. Sin, folly, vice, crime, are all 88 THE WISDOM OF THE XING. I appropriate subjects of study. We cannot know man without knowing them, and we cannot conduct ourselves towards man properly without knowing them ; but when we make them not only subjects of observation, but matters of practice, even though for the purpose of knowing them more intimately, we are eating the fruit of the forbidden tree, which will issue in our expulsion from the Eden of happi- ness. This Solomon appears to have done, by his own admission, when he says that he gave his heart to know, not wisdom alone, but madness and folly, withholding not his heart from any joy. Those who do this, even for the avowed purpose of enlarging their experimental knowledge, wiU certainly not escape unhurt. ' Can a man take coals into his bosom and not be burned ? ' No more can he taste of the tree of forbidden pleasure, and not suffer the evil consequences of its poisonous taste. SEEING LIFE. When a young man commences his career, if he have been previously untarnished, his character per- fectly bright, his moral principles upright, truthful, pure, in better moments he scorns the thought of tasting the mixed wines which unlawful pleasures tempt him with. Direct allurements have no power over his resolution to keep himself unspotted from WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 89 the world's vicesj. But suppose the temptation comes in this form, from the lips of companions, or the suggestion of his own thoughts : ' You cannot know what the world is — you are really up to a certain point ignorant, a butt for ridicule — rif you do not participate in those enjoyments, those gay revels, in which youth generally indulge. Wliy, if you only want to know the evils of their ways, you must indulge in them a little of course. You will be able to preach all tlie better against them.' There is something in all this very plausible, and, I have no doubt, aided by the corrupt nature that is in all such argument, fallacious as it is, has been sufficient to draw many a young person away from the path of virtue. I can fancy a young man of the best nature, and disposition, and training, suffering him- self to be imposed upon with tliis reasoning. He just wishes to know a little of their ways, that he may not be esteemed altogether a fool by the mad ones with whom the business of life brings him into contact. But he ]iy no means intends to practise them, or allow himself to be drawn away by them. If he have a strong moral nature, if he be sur- rounded by virtuous guards, he may be saved from the formation of habits of sin, thougli he has actually ventured within the charmed region, in which many strong men have been, like the crew of Ulysses, i! 90 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. converted into beasts by the cups of Circe. The experiment is not only dangerous ; it is, in the most favourable case, detrimental. The first debauch is, to a man's moral nature, like dragging a new garment through the mire. All the brushing and polishing in the world will never make it clean again. But many who make the experiment do not stop with the experiment. They feel that they are hurt by it, yet they are willing to make it evermore. The fisherm.an knows that even the touch of the sharp hook only whets the appetite of the silly trout. So is it witli the bait of unlawful pleasures. If the man be not taken at once by them, even though he have already experienced their sharp fangs, he will yet return to them. Tl e headache too oftAi fails to prevent the recurrence of the debauch ; and the sting which conscience inflicts is forgotten in the presence of the subsequent temptation. Bad habits are bound upon the man by number- less repetitions, which are like so many threads, each one of little force, but together like sevenfold cords, which require the force of Samson to break. There are not many Samsons either. And many a strong young man — strong in moral power, strong in high resolves — gets his locks shorn, and becomes weak as other men, when Delilah has taken hold of his fancy. So that even experimental pleasures are WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 91 dangerous. Tliis Solomon found out to his cost, when learning wisdom he turned to make experi- ments in madness and folly. Turn yourselves, tbon, as much as ye will to study these things. Study wisdom, and practise it ; but study madness and folly only to avoid them. And take the experience of Solomon ; take the warning example of the many whom you have seen in your own day and neighbourhood destroyed by the insidious operation of folly and madness. The decision of Solomon — for his decisions, ultimate decisions, are generally wise — is, that wisdom ex- celleth folly as nnich as light excelleth darkness. :^i| WISDOM HAS ITS EYES IN ITS HEAD. The particular in which wisdom excelleth folly is, says Solomon : ' The wise man's eyes are in his head, but the fool walketh in darkness.' This gives us a view of the superior value of wisdom over folly. The one is an eye, the other is blindness. A general view of all things necessary for man to know is before the wise man. Only those things which are near, in contact with his person, are in any respect known by the fool. The wise man sees all that is within the wide hoiizon, having his eyes in his head ; but the fool is a blind 92 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. 'H I : man, who goes about with his eyes in his stomach, or some other sensual part of his nature. The wise man's eyes instruct his intellect ; but the fool's eyes only seem to be fit to give him information regard- ing the quality of meat and drink, or some present enjoyment. The wise man's actiors are subjects of calculation ; the fool lives at random. The wise man, having his eyes in his head, has discovered that there is a God who rules and judges : that there is a wide distinction between virtue and vice ; that the way of the righteous shall be established, but that the way of the ungodly shall perish ; that present pleasure in the ways of vice are a poor pur- chase for future retributive pain. The fool being blind, rather having shut his eyes to the reality of things, hath said in his heart. There is no God. Virtue and vice are mere names without distinction in the nature of things : he pleases himself with the emi- nently vain idea that wickedness shall be as suc- cessful as righteousness, and that he may with impunity violate the moral principles of his nature. The wise man with his eyes in his head has come to right decisions ; the fool, from natural defect or from shutting his, has come to false conclusions. We have only to look to the world around us, to see that this is so. WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. EXPLANATION. 93 The only explanation which can be given why men, so many of them, rush on in folly to ruin, is that they have blinded themselves, for the illustra- tions of the evils of certain vicious courses are everywhere. There is no young man, who, if he did not allow his passions to blind the eyes of his understanding, but must see that those ways which are justly called wicked, are also ruinous. Here, then, are three things which we should look at : 1st, The fool is justly called a fool who does not see the consequences of his acts ; 2d, He does not see them because he will not ; and Sd, He is a mentally inferior specimen of humanity when compared with the wise man. Eegarding the first of these positions, we need not observe almost anjrthing save this, that a man who does not look at the natural conse- quences of any course of conduct, or looking does not see them to a large extent, is, properly speaking, a fool. People call him a fool. If he is in business, and acts without am *^'"t calculation of the various elements which are xxecessary to ensure success, h^ is among business men a fool. If he enter on a course of dissipation, by which, on a fair review of the examples within liis reach, we might justly con- clude he will in a few years be brought to min, his wmmmmt 94 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. i ■'■ body a wreck, and his soul a miserable thing to which vices cling, what can he be called but a fool ? If witli the knowledge of the fact that but few of those wlio try to swindle succeed, while ruin comes from detection, is lie not a fool who tries it ? Tlie mental pain and tlie moral detriment are plainly in their elements visible to the eye of introspection, were they not so largely insisted on by mental and moral observers, and were the workings of the soul oppressed with crime not fuUy portrayed in writ- ings sacred and profane. How, then, does it come that, with aU the light of knowledge, so many pur- sue the ruinous course, — why so many who have been unsuccessful, so many dissipated, so many sen- sual, and wretched ? Why, because they did not carry their eyes in their head, they did not see, they were blind. But why were they blind ? Naturally, or by some fault of their own ? Probably both. We may here observe, that as a man may destroy his eyes, so may he destroy or weaken the eyes of his understanding ; but it is far more common to weaken the vision of reason than the vision of the eye. No doubt there are those who are born blind in understanding as well as of eye. These are to be pitied. But for every one who is thus born with mental vision defective, thousands, from the very beginning of life, seem to have no other object in ^V'ISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 95 view than t(^ destroy their mental capacities, at least so far as to distinguisli moral suLjects. Their •(Teat object is to get their reason into such a state that it will justify them in calling good evil, and evil good ; sweet bitter, and bitter sweet. The edu- cation whicli many receive from their infancy is calculated to destroy all mental vision. The ex- ai-ples they see, and the precepts they are taught, are alike bad. On(} liardly knows what reverence is due to wicked parents. We would say that even children are under no obligations to allow their minds to be blinded by the acts and opinions of vicious parents, by any positive command ; and when respect for them and respect for virtue are opposed, let the higher law operate and the lower in the letter give way. Unfortunately, however, the vicious and the wicked instruction is all the more likely to be listened to, as there is in us a natural inclination to the evil. In too many cases we are perfectly willing to have our eyes blinded. We want arguments to make us easy in the pursu- ance of the courses in which we wish to indulsre. If true arguments fail us, we press in witticisms to supply their room. Sophistry, which is on the side of inclination, is ever more powerful than reason, which is against it. Every moral sophistry may be viewed as a thin film which covers the eye of the 96 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. 1 I- ' I li ; i-, iinderstaii(ling, while true reason is a cure which would enable us to discover with exactitude the relations and differences of truth and error. But how few want to be taught that which is really true and false, good and bad ! Most men want rather something which will enable them to set at defiance the outcries which conscience makes against the evil courses in which tliey indulge. They are quite willing that the eyes of the understanding should be blinded, that they should not come to the knowledge of the truth. My way, they say, the way in which I wish to walk, to wliich inclination leads, and in wliich passion drives, lies through plotting and scheming, through sensuality and de- bauchery, and I want something to make me com- fortable in it, not anything which will spoil my joy and check my vivacity. You would think it strange that any man should voluntarily consent to have his eyes put out, or to have them dimmed so that he could only see at the distance of a yard or two ; but it is by no means strange — it is, on the contrary, a thing of everyday occurrence — to find men consent- ing to have their understanding dimmed so that all moral subjects shall be indistinct. Probably, how- ever, this is mostly consented to on the plea of getting greater enlargement of vision. Yes, tliis is the plea. There are thousands of moral quack WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 97 oculists in the world, ^v]\o profess to give extended range of vision, so extended as that all distinctions of virtue and vice are obliterated, (iod is Ijoluild vanishing from the world, and man — not the innnor- tal, but ho of the threescore and ten years — the god of individual worship. This is surely an extension of vision ! We shall not now enter the lists with these ojiinions. We believe them to be utterly fal- lacious; we believe that he who has come to see the world without a God, without duty and sin, and temporary being as the only hope of man, has had the eyes taken out of his head, and is to all intents a fool, groping along in darkness. 5 : 1 f I IGNORANCE OF NATURAL LAWS. • Yet, on the other hand, we see a great many per- sons, who, while clear on the great landmarks of virtue, are yet voluntarily blind in regard to the great laws of the universe in which they dwell. They are ignorant of the principles of science, of commerce, of the minor morals, on which much of the comfort of life depends. They believe in God, but, from false notions of the natural laws by wliich His providence is carried forward, they live in terror of Him as a capricious tyrant, not in love of Him as a Father. In olden times, people were frightened by an eclipse. Thunder to them was the voice of G mn 98 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. God's wrath, and the lightning the terrifiu glance of His angry eye. The wise man knows that these are beneficent arrangements of His eternal foresight and care. Fools, even now, forgetting, ignoring the great principles of demand and supply, and urged on to extravagant competition by the selfish principle of gain, bring judgments upon themselves ; and other fools conduct themselves in family and social relationships, so tliat peace flies from the house, the country, and the kingdom. Many kings who are called to rule, seem to have no eyes except for their self-aggrandizement and self- gratifying purposes. Politicians, who ought to be the most far-seeing among men, voluntarily blind themselves to the true interests of those whom they profess to serve by their government, and can only see how to elevate themselves and found families, while the interests of the nation go lo ruin; while people in general seen; to have forgotten that it is by individual righteousness that the well-being of nations is established. They are all, in the midst of much light, voluntarily blind to that which God would have them to see. The proper description of them is, that they are groping about in the dark. The circle of selfishness rises up, and, like a wall that reaches to heaven, prevents them from beholding what true wisdom would teach them. They may profess to see God, but in works n WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 99 tliey deny Him ; to see virtue, but prefer only some of its more self-looking duties ; to live for immor- tality, and yet tliey are guided wholly by the present aspect of things. In a word, I fear we are all liable, more or less, to the charge of folly in its most un- deniable lineaments and terms, and that we have ourselves much to blame for having blinded our eyes to the true distinction of things. We may for a moment just refer to slavery as one of those things in wliich we can best see how it is possible to blind the eye to that which is just, true, and wise. We do not need to argue that slavery is a crime, a blunder, a folly. Upon that question we may say the whole civilised world has gi'^en its verdict. England knows this ; France knows it, so does Austria ; and the Russian autocrat was so convinced of it, that he set free his 20,000,000 of serfs — made them rise to tlie dignity of men — the greatest act, the noblest achievement of modern times. All the world knov/s the criminality, the guilt, the folly of slaveholding, save the slaveholders themselves, or the bondholders on slave property. All the civilised world were convinced that slave- holders had their moral sense blinded by self-inte- rest in this matter. Tliey knew that all those gentle terms, such as ' the peculiar institution,' the ' do- mestic institution,' and the foul names with which ! I', i I 100 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. those were greoted who disapproved of the system, were inventions to conceal from the view of the slaveholders the positive iniquity of the system. Now we believe that the greater portion of those who have been slaveholders were perfectly convinced that there was nothing morally wrong in slavery. They were quite conscientious in believing that what all the world, not selfishly interested, held to be wrong and foolish, was yet right and wise. I bring this forward as an example of the blinding nature of self-interest, or rather greed. But with this ex- ample before us, may it not be very fairly affirmed that greed produces moral blindness nearer home ? We look to France, and we see in the restless, un- easy, warlike disposition of that people, their fond- ness for glory and extension of territory, the cha- racteristics of great folly. Is it not also quite likely that, in our social system, there is much that is both wicked and foolish, though self-interest will not let us see it ? Slaveholders have pointed to the miseries which obtained to an even greater extent in manu- facturing England, as an offset against the evils of slavery, and said, ' Physician, heal thyself And I daresay, among ourselves there are many legalized evils which we are unwilling to acknowledge as such, because our selfish interests are involved in upholding them. In private life, without doubt, WISDOM, MADNi:SS, AND FOLLY. 101 men can perpetrate crimes and commit follies with- out seeing that they are such, because they are in- terested — pecuniarily, at least we think so — in them. In every smaller circle there is also a re- cognised code of morals of a lower grade than that which finds public acknowledgment. Gentlemen, as a certain class call themselves, though they may have small claims to the title, have their peculiar notions of what is wise, and right, and honourable to do. Then there is the commercial code of the bulls and bears of the Stockmarket, the code of the Shop- keeper, etc. ; — all of them founded on some principle of rottenness, but believed by the blinded fools to be quite sound, or at least excusable and justifiable. They all have this character of the fool, that they walk in darkness ; aiid the description of the Psalmist is perfectly applicable to them : ' Because himself lie flattercth In his own hliinled eye, Until the hatefulness be found Of his iniquity. ' We have been so long now dealing with fools, and finding them everywhere, that we may have fur- gotten what wisdom is. We want some model with which to compare these fools of dissipation, politics, commerce, gentility, and so forth. >:ti?W 102 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. THE WISE MAN WHERE ? But where shall we fiDd such a one. It may not be said of any one man, See, here is the perfectly wise. AU have their faults and their follies. Not in Solomon himself, — not in David, who, though less gifted with knowledge than Solomon, may yet be esteemed more practically wise than the son, a man more after God's own heart. In the absence of any merely human model of wisdom, we might with much propriety set before us the character of the man who is truly blessed, as found in the 1st Psalm ; for surely the man whose course leads to true blessed- ness is the truly wise : ' Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the -ingodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful : but his delight is in the law of his God ; and in His law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of waters ; his leaf also shall not wither ; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.' The truly wise man is one who knows the law of his God, and who walks in it day and night ; who hears ever the voice of God saying unto him. This is the way, walk ye in it. And we may say this law of God is that wTitten on the heart, written in Num- bers, written in Kevelations. He who strives with WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 103 all liis might to know and to keep all the laws which God has given for the regulation of his being, physical, mental, moral, in all the relations of life, is a good student of the heavenly wisdom, and, in as far as he has attained to his aims, is wise. Nor are we to exclude from our consideration the law of faith, by which he, a participator of the divine grace, enters into communion and fellowship with the Father, and His Son Jesus Christ. Is it necessary to consider for a moment tlie trutli of Solomon's affirmation, ' That wisdom excelleth folly as far as light excelleth darkness,' — that the wise man according to the law of his God is as superior to tlie fool who transgresses it, either from ignorance or through turpitude of nature, as the man who sees is superior to the blind for all the purposes of life, — or to doubt those passages in which Solo- mon described the superiority of wisdom over folly? These passages, however, have their value, and we may with profit rehearse them. ' Wisdom,' saith he, ' is good with an inheritance; and by it there is profit to tliem that see the sun. Wisdom strengtheneth the wise more than ten miglity men that are in the city. A man's wisdom niakoth his face to shine. Wisdom is better than strength and weapons of war. The excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom givetli life to them that have it.' There is value in wis- m Til at ■ *1 104 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. dom to those that come after us, value in it for present ability, value for beauty and ornament, and value in it, for it gives life, it preserves from the way of death, and secures the life everlasting. 1 I GLIMPSES OF IMMORTALITY. StiU we do not say that Solomon had the life everlasting in his view. Whatever glimpses he had of the life to c^me, we think that, while pursuing his career of investigation respecting the good that man should do under the sun, he had very little tliought of the immortality that awaits the soul. Probably, in writing the book, he intelligently touched on that truth when he made the distinction between the spirit of the man and that of the beast ; probably also he had a glimpse of it when, in the conclusion of that beautiful passage descriptive of old age, he describes the spirit returning to God who gave it : still there is nothing in either of these passages which absolutely proves that the writer affirmed the immortality of the soul. At any rate, we have a sad doubt thrown over his views on this subject, in the verses which we are just now considering. What is the meaning of the following verses, if through wisdom a man might attain to immortality ? ' I,' says he, ' myself perceived also that one event happeneth to all. Then said I in my heart, As it happeneth to the fool, so it happeneth WISDOM, MADNESS, AND FOLLY. 105 even to me ; and why was I tlien more wise ? Then I said in my heart, that this also is vanity. For there is no remembrance of the wise more than of the fool for ever ; seeing that which now is, in the days to come shall all be forgotten : and how dieth the wise man ? even as the fool.' Why does Solomon com- plain that wisdom cannot keep him living, nor pre- serve his renxembrance ? Why does he affirm, that though within the boundaries of the world wisdom is good, yet its value seems to end then, if he thought that through all eternity he would shine as the brightness of the firmament ? In reading this passage, the sickening thought presses in on the mind, that Solomon at least had no distinct or positive faith in the immortality of the soul, that his wisdom was of a worldly kind, and that he was without that definite hope which cheers the Christian on life's journey through this world, which, amid all the clamours cind turmoils of life, sings him sweet songs, which has a word of comfort for the severest trials, and sheds its rays over the darkest hour. iff ■r f i t5 t f VII. THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. ' There is nothing better for a man, than that he should eat and drink, and tliat he should make his soul enjoy good in his labour. This also T saw, that it was from the hand of God. For who can eat, or who else can hasten hereunto, more than I ? For God giveth to a man that is good in His sight wisdom, and knowledge, and joy": but to the sinner He giveth travail, to gather, and to heap up, that he may give to him that is good before God. This also is vanity and vexation of spiiit.' — Eccles. li. 24-26. THE great question, which it is very important we should have resolved for us at or near the beginning of our present life, is, What is that general principle on which our life should proceed, and pursuing which, we shall enjoy the greatest good ? or, if the question of good be held to be an inferior consideration, Wliat is that course which man should i^ursue in accordance with duty and right ? Probably it will be found that these two things, as a general rule, are coincident ; yet it may be that the motive of right wiU more surely lead to the possession of good, than the pursuit of good to the doing of right. Both of these aspects of the case presented themselves before the mind of Solomon, 106 THE SEI^SUAL PHILOSOPHY. 107 but at different times. Here we have the good brought prominently before us ; at the conclusion of the wise man's experiments we have the duty pre- sented, the one by no means necessarily excluding the other ; but from false views of the nature of the good, and false judgments regarding its relation to man, the lower often opposing the higher principle. It is, however, quite possible for us to take, with Solomon, a view of what is good for man, without contradicting or ignoring the nobler principle which is involved in duty. We would therefore inquire, with Solomon, what is that good thing i' We have Solomon's reply, which needs no expla- nation. It may, however, need definition ; for in any licence which is given to the sensual side of our nature, there requii-e to be appended the strongest injunctions against licentiousness. I daresay many have thought, in reading these verses, that they just contained the substance of the songs of Anacreon, or other Bacchanalian poets ; and many a jolly good liver may have had his conscience liglitened by what, under the biassed interpretation of the animal passions, might seem to be tlie sentiment of the wise King. We do not think that they fairly bear this interpretation. We rather think, that while Solo- mon enjoyed, or rather tried to enjoy, life in excess, that is not the purport of his observation here, but r/H ■PM 108 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. that there is here commended a rational use of all the gifts of the divine providence, without any com- mendation of excesses. AGAINST MISERLINESS. We would here observe that the sentiment of the King is directed against, that miserly abuse of labour which consists in laying up riches, accumulating without enjoyment for the sake of accumulation, or with the expectation that by accumulation enjoy- ment will come after a fixed amount has been reached, li is not easy always to unravel the motives of those men who act very differently from most otJiers. Here is a man, for instance, who has devoted his life to the accumulation of wealth, and ho is now worth an enormous sum — worth, that is, possesses, property to an almost fabulous amount. As to per- sonal worthiness, that is quite another question. But he does not enjoy the property or the money. He lives sparely and meanly ; and yet he is as much intent on adding to the original sum as when, standing face to face with hard poverty, he first began to save. You may well ask what are the man's motives for thus hoarding up that which he does not seem to know the use of. We may remark in explanation, that we see in him only the con- THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. 109 tinuation and extravaj^'ant enlargemont of a common and wise motive natural to the whole human family, — the desire to make provision for the wants of the future, to lay up for a rainy day, or a sick day, or old age, when incapacitated for work. That desire in him has attained extraordinary and extravagant development, wliile other desires have been curbed and dwarfed. So he has grown up, needing little, and yet providing for the supply of many needs. So, with the ascetic life of the hermit, he has accu- mulated sufficient for the wants of princes. Besides this original desire to put himself beyond the reach of want, there is generally added the lust of power whicli money gives ; for money is king of men. They said once cotton was king ; but cotton was only one of money's prime ministers. Tlie money- lender is the real king to whom tlie needy bow. So, in order that this principle of love of power may be gratified, the miser lends for the wants, real or imaginary, of the man of business or the man of pleasure. The miser may have also in view the founding of a name and a family. He w^ishes to leave to his heir what will enable him to take a place among the great and noble — the greatness of the heir being reflected with glory on him as the founder of a house and family. Now there is really nothing in any of these motives which is radically ^1 110 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. wrong. f i f !i On the contrary, it is quite right and pru- dent to provide for the wants of tlie future. It is also fair enough to seek for legitimate influ- ence through the possessions which may have been honestly attained ; and to raise one's family in posi- tion and importance is by no means unworthy of the consideration of a wise man. The evil in the motives of the miser lies in the excess to which he allows them to grow, to the dwariing of other equally important principles of his nature. Whenever the love of money, or of the power which it brings, or of the fame which it confers, stands in the way of the enjoyment of that life which God has given us, not to say contravenes our duty towards God, it becomes an evil. In the text the question is not debated on any higher principle than that of the greatest good ; and on this principle, no doubt, Solo- mon was right in his conclusion, that it is better that a man should eat and drink, and enjoy the fruit of all his labour, — better than that he should deny himself and lay up, and accumulate riches, which, after all, may serve no good purpose, but which coming, as riches gathered nearly or shabbily, not to say unjustly, generally do, into the hands of foolish heirs, may be all squandered in vice, and instead of adding to the posthumous fame of the gatherer, only hurt his children. Consider, then, that it is wiser t li THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. Ill to enjoy the good of labour, than with meanness and carefuhiess to provide for the generations to come. AGAINST EXTRAVAGANCE. But again, let us guard ourselves against the con- clusion that a man is to eat and drink, and consume all the fruit of his hibours. Because a man is not to be a ndser, it does not follow that he is to be a spendthrift. Let him enjoy the fruit of his labours by all means, but at the same time let him leave the world as well as, or better than he found it. Let us think of this a little. We all owe a del)t to our aacestors, which they require us to pay to pos- terity. True, there is no written bond which we have signed to that effect, but there are the obliga- tions of nature and justice which require this of us. Our forefathers have laboured, and we have entered into their labours. V^e believe it was Dr. Franklin who once lent a sum of money to a young man commencing business, with the obligation tliat he should also do the tsame, when he became indej)en- dent, for another worthy but poor young man, with a similar obligation on him to go and do likewise. It may be that this loan is going forward in its operation yet, according to the wishes of him who commenced it ; but whether or not, the great com- mission to every one on entering the world is, that 112 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. f t he also, as he hath received, should commimicate. A man has no right to eat and drink and destroy without reference to the world in which he lives, and without a thought of those who are to come after him in the world. The commission to the apostles when they were sent forth, is also given to each of us : ' Freely ye have received, freely give.' That each man should enjoy the fruit of all his labour, and yet leave the world as well, or even better, are quite compatible. A man plants an orchard, and the fruit is his to enjoy ; while the trees themselves are more permanent than he, and may become a legacy for posterity. The proper tillage of the field, while enriching the present pos- sessor, also makes the same field mce fertile for the succeeding heir. The house which is built may not merely accommodate him who has erected it, but other tenants, when the grave has become his sole possession. Man's labours are, many of them, more permanent than he is himself. To enjoy them, and yet to carry out consciously the great scheme of divine providence in enriching and beautifying the world, is the part of the wise man. God wants that we should be happy, and that we be the in- struments of the happiness of others. THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. 113 s AGAINST EXCESS. A proper use of the sentiment of this passage demands that we should not apply it to indulgence in excess of any kind. To enjoy the fruit of labour is very different from indulgence in gluttony, drunkenness, riotous living, wantonness, or any in- temperance. Any of these things will soon bring both the labours and enjoyments of their votaries to an end. There are diseases which attend what is called good living, not m all in harmony with enjoy- ment. Health and long life are not to liim who too plenteously indulges any appetite, but to the tem- perate man, who knows how to put a curb on his appetite, and keeps every passion within due bounds. If it can be proved that there is any article used as food, or as a common beverage, which is either not nutritious, or contains the seeds and elements of disease, it certainly is no proper enjoyment of life to partake of it, as, though it may gratify for the moment, it brings misery of a much larger gi'owth, which it will be the part of wisdom to guard against by total abstinence from the subtle deleterious thing. I do not now enter more particularly on (questions of diet or drink ; only it may be laid down here as an incontrovertible principle, that whatever tends generally to produce a larger amount of misery than H m It 114 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. it does of enjoyment in the use, ought to be shunned by every wise man. Let a man only open liis eyes consult his own personal experience, and take a survey of the effects of any habit of eating or drink- ing, and as he finds the evidence for or against, let his decision and practical conduct be. FRUIT OF LABOUR MANIFOLD. The term, ' enjoy the fruit of all his labour,' has a much wider meaning than can be comprehended under the pleasures of the table. There are those, we know, who think good eating and drinking, and the special sociality connected therewith, constitute the chief enjoyments of life. Most people, however, add other pleasures, chiefly sensual ; but few, we think, have their eyes sufficiently open to see the cliief delights which may be derived from the labours which man undertakes. Every work of art has within it a source of rich enjoyment. It is a casket which contains within it a gladsome jewel. A well-proportioned building, a garden, a farm, a picture, a statue, a piece of music, a poem, a well- turned speech, and a thousand other things in which we see the designing mind of man, constitute the fruits of labour ; and he that has the sense will taste and enjoy them. There is no piety, no reli- gion- -except deformity be a god- -in refusing to THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. 115 admire and enjoy the things which are orderly and beautiful, even though they be the production of the mind and hand of man. One of the common- places on which moralists and ministers rang the changes during the preceding generation, was ' the evils of luxury.' We rather think the ills which they saw in luxury belonged simply to excesses, of which there are many ; and luxury, like everything else, may be carried to excess. It was the custom, however, to aftirm that luxury certainly was the precursor and the cause of the downfall of tlie people who indulged it. It is very true that some of the greatest nations of antiquity have been patrons of luxury, and have also been conquered ; but that they were conquered because they enjoyed what may be called luxuries, is by no means apj^a- rent. Barbarous people have been conquered who knew nothing of luxuries, and some of the most luxurious living people of the present day are the most invincible. If a nation cease to labour, giving itself over to enjoyment as the sole end of existence, no doubt it is near its ruin ; but if it labour, and "ujoy the fruit thereof, tliough in luxuries, that is no evidence that its decay is begun, or that its fiiU is near. We might ask the question. For what l)urpose did God make those things which are called luxuries ? Was it that they might remain in the I If i¥ V > 116 THE AVISDOM OF THE KING. lands which gave them birth, or that by exchange — what we call commerce — they might become the means of enjoyment in distant lands ? Inquire again, What is a luxury ? Simply that which is dear, and difficult to procure. The very things which with us are articles of necessity, may be luxuries to those from whom we get in exchange our luxuries. Commerce is dependent in great measure on that wicked thing luxury, and the amity of nations also is dependent on commerce. The brotherhood of the world, if it ever become a thing of fact, will be largely indebted to what has suffered so much railing by good, well-intentioned, but rather short-sighted men. ;ii OUR OWN *ABOUR TO BE ENJOYED. We remark that man should not go beyond his own labour for his own eating, drinking, and enjoy- ment. In those things which are the property of all, and cannot be appropriated by any, he, though his labours may have had no hand in its produc- tion, may find as much enjoyment as possible. The fact is, there is but a very small portion of any- thing that can become the peculiar possession of the individual. A man may buy an estate, and improve his domain, and cultivate his garden, and in their produce he may have a sole claim ; but THE SENSUAL PHILOSOPHY. 117 of lid id lut their beauties are common to aU who can appreciate them : * Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.' But then there are certain things wliich are indi- vidual property, and no man has a right to trench upon these. He has a right to the fruit of his own labour, but no more. He has no right to steal, or swindle, or to live beyond his means. The senti- ment that the world owes us a living is no doubt true, with certain limitations. It owes us the reward of our labour ; and if we are not able to labour, it owes us the means of sustaining existence. But if any one should indulge in extravagant habits, consuming not only the fruit of his own labour, but the fruits of the labour of others, upon the plea that the world owes him a living, we have to say that the sentiment in this sense is false, and subversive of justice in its foundation. It is a principle which makes thieves, rogues, and vagabonds ; but which must ever be discarded from the code of morals professed by that very wortliy, and, we trust, not very uncommon personage — an honest man. FOOLISH LAWS. We observe again, tliat we have no reason to sup- pose that Solomon intended to make out a selfish ' ' i : « 118 THE WISDOM OF THE KING, theory of life, thoi^gli lie here specially describes only personal enjoyment. The remark which he had made, no doubt from a wide observation of facts, that riches laid up by the industrious man are too often squandered by his foolish heir, is the key to the whole meaning of his sentiment respecting what is good to do with the earnings of a man's labour. The whole amount of what he says lies in this, that we may be too anxious to accumulate, too anxious for the wealth of our children, our heirs. We may lay up wealth, that they in whom our dearest affec- tions are centred may have ease and enjoyment, and may enter the ranks of gentility, from which the early poverty of our life may have excluded us ; but after we have given them the education and culture of genteel society, and means to support their position in the higher circle to which they have mounted, it is still a question whether we have just done the best thing for them. We know from our own experience, that the great majority of those who have thus inherited education and fortune, and have been brought up to the life of what is called high society, have turned out spendthrifts, who dis- sij)ated the fortunes which they were heirs to more rapidly than they were amassed. And if the fortune was not dissipated, still it is questionable whether ])Overty itself would not be preferable to the life H i . l l'Jnl, I J i _B !B«g THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPHY. 119 of licentiousness which abundance enables such persons to lead. It is, however, surely quite possible to lay up a fortune for children, and at the same time to train them up to make a wise use of that fortune. And does it not seem that it would even be a better tiling than to eat and drink and enjoy the fruit of all our labour, if, while of course making a rational use of the good gifts of God's providence, men whose riches increase should set themselves with wisdom and ardour to train their children in the way that they should go, in industry, in truth- fulness, in sobriety, in chastity, in charity, in piety, in every human and divine nobleness ? True, in some cases success might not attend the effort, and many persons are unqualified for making it ; but stiU it should be made, and we should endeavour to qualify ourselves for it, so that if in the good provi- dence of God any of us, even after eating and drink- ing and enjoying the fruit of all our labour, should find ourselves possessed of fortune, we may not fear for its dissipation by those who are dearest to us in the world. The virtues are not hereditary, except with cultivation. The industry of the parent is not to be found in the child, unless it be made a habit in youth. We need to inculcate truth and principles of right, if we would expect to see them spring up among the young. There are, no doubt, some natures I i ■ I 120 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. which do not readily take the mould. They seem naturally virtuous or vicious. Some you can hardly preserve from ruin, others you can hardly spoil. But while the most fertile soil may be overrun with weeds so that it is fit for no good purpose, the most sterile will yield something to earnest cultivation. And we may say that the future character of the children of a family is chiefly dependent on the mother. This is a general observation, and one not among the popular delusions. The state of the family relationship in Solomon's own experience did not provide for the best superintendence on the part of the mothers of his children, and probably he had some forecastings regarding the folly of his heir, taking their rise from the character of the wives he had married. It is not indeed usual to find emi- nent specimens of royal training, and certainly not in the East. Even England has, within the memory of those yet living, seen princes who were a disgrace to humanity sitting on her throne, which ahnost tottered beneath them on account of their dissipa- tions and dishonours. The present generation has been more fortunate. The excellence of the present sovereign, who is respected even where royalty is detested, is known to be the result of the careful training of her royal mother, whom the empire yet mourns. And may we not hope that the future THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPHY. 121 generation shall enjoy an incalculable benefit in the excellent training which every account testifies has been given to the prospective heir to the throne, as well as to his brothers and sisters, by their excellent parents ? With such illustrious examples, we trust the succeeding race of the great nation of wliich we form a part, shall be found worthy to live and enjoy the best heritage of labour which the past and pre- sent generation of tlie IJritish people have heaped up for their enjoyment. We also have a part in this training. We too are labourers and careful, we too are increasing in wealth. While we enjoy it in that moderation suitable to our nature, and in accordance with the laws of right, we are also bound to see to it that not fools, but wise men and women, are trained up to carry on the great work of civilisation and im- provement which God is superintending on the earth. ONLY THE PRESENT LIFE. We may still further make the remark — a remark which we have several times made in relation to Solomon's philosophy of life — that he is dealing solely with what is good for the present life. But, in addition to this, it is to be observed that eating, drinking, and enjoyment of the fruits of labour are only to be viewed as means to an end. AVliy do we eat, drink, and enjoy ? Is it that we may eat, I ! 122 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. drink, and enjoy ? That would be an impotent con- clusion. Some higher motive nmst animate us, or we can lay claim to no higher title than that of a superior kind of beasts. We have a God to glorify, we have characters to form, we have an immor- tality to secure. The glory of our God will be best attained, not so much by acts of special worship, such as praise and prayer, though these are necessary, as by l)ecoming ever more like Him. From the high nobility of our nature we have fallen ; but, blessed be His name, He has given us a scheme of salvation through which we may rise to the original state. That salvation consists, first, in a proclamation of pardon to the erring and siiiful — pardon to the vilest, most degraded, most fallen, through the self- renunciation of the Son of God — a necessary pre- liminary to that great salvation by which we are saved ; and while only a preliminary, yet also a great moving cause of all the after acts and operations of divine grace in the soul, begetting confidence in God ; a clearer sense of His love ; a view of the divine sonship of man ; — clearing up the way to the cheerful and faithful performance of those duties of life, which becoming habitual, conduce to sanctifica- tion or holiness, — begetting also love to Him who first loved us, and love to the brethren made like to ourselves in confidence in God and love to Him, THE SENSUAL rHILOSOniY. 123 and thus evermore fitting iis for a land, it may Tie, not of rest, hiit of liiglier, liolier work than this world affords ns any conception of For tliis wo labour, eat, (h'ink, and enjoy the fruit of labour, — not that we may be full and fatted, but that we may be- come trutliful, faithful, loving, earnest for the right, zealous for God, kind, gentle, virtuous, full of good fruits, without partiality, without hypocrisy ; that we may discover God in His works ; that we may reveal God, in all His moral attributes of goodness and mercy, and truth and love, to those who are around us, and who shall be after us, the heirs of our labours, as well in virtue and piety as in material wealth. GENERAL VIEWS. In reading such statements as those which we have been considering, then, let us free ourselves from the partial view of tilings which it presents to our conceptions, and ascend to the higher contem- plation of the whole, which we should always keep in view. It is not by studying one star that we will gain a knowledge of astronomy, nor by medi- tating on one fact that we shall become skilled in physical science. The one truth which guides us to a just appreciation of what is best to do in rela- tion to a supposed contingency, is ever to be collated with the other truths which make up the whole -4'i "I f-'il 124 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. \ ? I ! science of life. When we look to the propriety of an enjoyment of the things of this world according to the theory of Solomon, or consider the Scjn of man as having come eating and drinking, by no means pursuing tlie ascetic course of His prede- cessor the ])ii})tist, we are also to remember that the object of His life was not that, but to seek and to save the lost ; to teach the ignorant, to heal the sick, to bear the cross, to exenii)lify love. There are, no doubt, many excellent examples of those who make Christ their example in eating and drinking ; but he is no true follower of Christ who imitates Him only in one thing. ' Grow up into Him in all things,' was the idea of the apostle. The stature of the perfect man in Christ Jesus is gigantic. It embodies the whole of the code of duty. And not especially in those things which Christ did in com- mon with men of His day is He to be chiefly con- sidered ; nor in imitating Him in that do we become His followers, as some would seem to suppose, who, it may be, to ease their conscience for excess, quote Christ's example of eating and drinking. You might as well say that you are becoming painters, or scidp- tors, or poets, because Eubens, or Shakspeare, or Phidias ate and drank, while you never think of studying or imitating their great works with the brush, the chisel, or the pen, as that you were be- THE SENSUAL nilLOSOPIIY. 125 I coming Christians because you cat and drink like Christ. We should use the goods of providence, to the end that we may work out the noble ideas with wliioh our Saviour was struggling; and for no other end must the Cliristian use the goods of this world without abusing them. lie wants to rise in the divine life ; he wi.shes to live to (lod, to benefit the world, to elevate his own character : and so he eats and drinks ; but whatever he docs, it is to the glory of God. ANXIETY ABOUT THE GOOD THINGS. And another caution we need to take with us when studying this subject. It is not to be too anxious about our eating and drinking and enjoy- ment. No doubt every creature of God is good, and worthy to be accepted, if it be received Avith thanksgiving ; but it is not good to be careful about the goodness or exquisitencss of the things which we use. We are cautioned against anxious seeking * what we shall eat, or what we shall drink, or where- withal shall we be clothed.' It is beneath the tlig- nity of the noble mind to be much occupied with such matters. Some people, indeed, must have their minds occupied with them, but they are rather to be pitied than imitated ; and those who have their minds chiefly occupied with the needs of the soul. i S' ! i li 126 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. the way in which thev shall be supplied, how the new man may grow and increase, how the depressed and weary shall be elevated, have chosen the better part, which shall never be taken from them. Martlia is a very useful person, but Mary is a still higher and nobler character. SUMMARY. Labour, then, is good, and the fruit of labour to be enjoyed, and the legacy of labour to be left, and posterity that is to enjoy and increase it, to be care- fully cultivated, and all high and noble principles in the soul are to \)q educated by means of the things which sustain and comfort life, and that which is best is to be sought and held, tlioiigh pre- sent enjoyment should cease, and all sensual grati- fications be denied. Each thing has its own value — some less, some greater. The cultivation of the mind is more important than the gratification of the senses, and the rights of conscience are more to be considered than either. Covet earnestly the best gifts, — not riches, which make to themselves wings and riy away, — not the fame of genius, which is evanescent, l»ut the charity which never failetli, which, while imiting us to all that is best in huma- nity, allies us also to God our Father, and Jesus our Saviour, whom to love is safety from all harm. VIII. THE KING'S DESPAIE. ' Yea, I hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun ; because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after'nie. And who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fool ? yet shall he have rule over all my labour wherein I have laboured, and wherein I have showed myself wise under the sun. This is also vanity. Therefore I went about to cause my heart to despair of all the labour which I took under the sun. For there is a man whose labour is in wisdom, ana in knowledge, and in e([uity ; yet to a man that hath not laboured therein shall he leave it for his portion. This also is vanity, and a great evil. For what hath man of all his labour, and of the vexation of his heart, wherein he hath laboured under the sun ? For all his days are sorrows, and his travail grief ; yea, his heart tuketh not re.st in the night. This is also vanity. ' — Eucles. ii. 18-23. THE point to which we wish to direct atten- tion, is the self-caused despairing mood in which Solomon is in this hook presented before us. He has sought and attained wisdom ; he has planted and huilded, and the gardens and woods and noble structures around him attest his success ; he has engaged in commerce, and fortune has proved to him no churl ; he has tried what were the charms of pleasure, and joined in the joys of sensuality. He has found all deceitful. Each thing thiit spake a 127 ' i 128 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. word of promise to the hope, broke it to his sense. Novelty has nothing new for him ; nay, he has dis- covered that novelty is an old impostor, going by a new alias. One would think that he had sufficient reason for dissatisfaction, without seeking for fur- ther causes of complaint. He was in that sort of dis- satisfied state, that some change, even for the worse, were better. He has no hope, yet this is only a negative state ; he wants despair, that he may have something further to C(,)mplain of, and that he may be prevented from the disappointment of further experiments. Every joy that with attractive light lured him, had only left him in deeper gloom ; and now he is afraid lest any other hope should induce him to try other experiments in living. In a word, he felt unha]ipy, and he was determined to continue so. ' I went about,' says he, ' to cause my heart to despair of all the labour wliicli I took under the sun.' This phase of the human character is perhaps not very rare. Many people at some one time or other pass through it. It is pre duced by a form of melan- choly into which very successful persons sometimes fall — successful, we mean, in material form, — and is also experienced by persons with whom the world goes hardly. We are to distinguish it from merely dark views of human things. It is a stage of the THE KING S DESPAIR. 129 miserable in advance of that. Solomon was afflicted with simple and common melancholy when he, look- ing o\er all tilings, pronounced them to be vanity and vexation of spirit ; but the disease took a more subtle and detrimental form when, not satisfied with the ai)parent gloom and cloud witli which he saw all things intested, lie was afraid of the least ray of light breaking in upon them, and went about to cause his heart to despair of them, — a miserable employment surely, and one in which he is by no means to be imitated. HIS MELANCHOLY. It may be useful to make an anatomy of this melancholy, for I tlimk we can call it by no other name. It is certainly not a perfectly sane state of the mind, but argues a system out of harmony with nature. God made evervthing beautiful, and witli tlie most agreeable adaptations. The eye was fitted to the light, the ear for sound, the mind for d'signing, and the hand for action. The tribes of animals are fitted for their condition of life, and man fcr his. They being of lower order and capacity, have given to them clothing from the gi'eat nianu- tbctory of nature, their sim])le food s])rings sj)on- taneously from the earth, and a den is for them a sufficient home ; l>ut the higher powers of man find I m V' i 130 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. dev(ilopment in the activities which are necessary to procure food, clothing, and houses. I think we must esteem it a great mistake to suppose that, if man liad fewer needs, he wouhl be as great as he is. The most noble and powerful races of mankind have not sprung up where the means of life are most easily procured. The South Sea Islands, wliere a man having planted a single banana and a bread- fruit tree is ensured his food for the rest of his life, where frosts are never felt, and snow ne^er seen, — these gardens of paradise are not the places where man is produced in perfection ; but rather is he likely to be found in northern climes, where he has to wrestle with cold, and guard against hunger, and protect himself from the inhospitality of the climate. It is perfectly true that there is a certain amount of cold and sterility which prevents the development of his nature. But it is also true that the necessity of using th.e arts of agriculture and manufacture, of planting and building, is the very thing which de- velopes and perfects the race of man. So much is this the case, that you will in vain look for high physical force and intellectual ability, except in those places and times in which a high state of manufac- ture and commercial activity prevails. Admitting this, then, which we must if we are not deaf to the voice of all history, we must also admit that the THE KING S DESPAIR. 131 very labour, the planting and building wliicli Solomon went about to make his heart despair of, were the very things which were most suitable for man to be engaged in. This philosophy of his surely is not wisdom, but a form of insanity. Even admitting, which we do, that these things are not of a satisfac- tory description ; admitting that, for the purpose of exciting man to higher endeavour and more full de- velopment of his nature, as well as to show that there is a higher nature in him which these things are incapable of satisfying ; admitting this unsatis- factoriness, is it right, is it judicious, is it according to the mind of Him who created us witli these activities, and the objects on which they are to be exercised, to go about for means and reasons of not mere dissatisfaction, but despair ? No, no. The man of wisdom, the man of pleasure, and the man of business, is now become the jaded, worn-out, melancholy man. He has arrived at the issue of the course which he pursued ; his conclusion is the result of a diseased imagination. In a word, we look upon him as labouring under a fit of saddest melancholy. I.f BLACK BILE. The term which we Iiave employed to designate this state of mind in which we lind Solomon during if f *: 132 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. one era of liis life, refers it to a physical cause. The term is compounded of two words signifying black bile, which is indicated as the cause of those sad and moody states, in Avhich a pall is, as it were, cast over the beauty and brightness of the world. Without doubt, the corruption or tlie stoppage of the secretions of the body has very much to do with the dark views we take of surrounding things. But yesterday, and all was bright — the whole panorama of nature was lit up witli a purple light, which brought back all the freshness and feelings of youth ; but to-day, the same world, shorn of all its glory, is a dark prison-house. Things have not altered, nor has fortune visited us with any stroke. The sun shines bright and warm, and we are nearer to the genial sunnner-time ; but yet — ah, it is as unlike the world of yesterday as possible. The change is in us, not in it ; a change, too, which is not dependent on, nor does it arise from, processes of reason. The mental change depends on one that is physical. The health has become disordered, the nervous system has suffered — possibly from some inadvertence, some excess, some folly ; let us add, some sin — the sin of ignorance, or the sin of presumption. We have studied too intently, wrought too hardly, exposed ourselves rasldy, eaten voraciously, drunk intempe- rately, breathed some malarious atmosphere, neglected THE king's despair. 133 proper exercise, or cominitted some other crime by which we sinned against tlie constitution of our being, violated the laws of our God, and j)ut our sys- tem out of harmony with the world ; and now that which pleased us is hateful — the beauty has become ashes, and mourning succeec^s the oil of joy, and the spirit of heaviness is worn instead of the garment of praise. Traced to its cause, this sad state in which we sometimes find ourselves, is found to issue from foolish irregularities, which have engendered, not, it may be, any decided or positive disease, but melan- choly ; an atrabilious disposition, in which the man, if he be a writer or a talker, is sure to rail against nature, describing lier in pictures of woe, and with the accents of despair. RAILING FASHIONABLE. Sometimes this railing at nature, picturing her in the very saddest guise, is the natural result of expe- rience, habit, or temperament ; sometimes, however, it is only a fashion. We have no reason to snp])ose that Solomon was in any respect insincere or hypo- critical in his objurgations of a world which, through his own excesses, had disappointed him. It is quite otherwise, however, with many who go about railing in good set terms at nature and fortune. They are ([uite in favour with both ; but the fashion, religious 134 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. or social, is to rail at tliein, so without feeling tliey utter their tirades. The pulpit has not always been free from these fashionable hypocrisies. It is a pity that one should feel sad, but worse, in some aspects, to pretend these miserable hallucinations. We have an abundance of real evils, without heaping uji ima- ginary ones. There are plenty of birds of the night. No need that those of song should convert them- selves into owls. We ourselves may soon enough feel the miseries which we now pretend. We do not know that it is wise to anticipate the discovery that all is vanity. Certainly there is no reason in the cultivation of a premature despair. THE king's melancholy UNCOMMON. But the melanclioly of Solomon was worse than simple melancholy. His was a state of mind not merely produced by outward impressions, but one which he was at pains to perpetuate and deepen. It is said that, when tlie Libyan tiger is wounded by the arrow, it turns itself upon it, driving the barb deeper and deeper into its own vitals. This was the course which Solomon pursued. Stricken by the bitter poisoned darts of disappointment, he voluntarily strikes them deeper into his soul, and goes about causing his heart to despair of all his labour. A man who does this is surely quite as in- ':'^'Ti THE KING S DESPAIR. 136 sane as if, wounded, he should tear open the gash that the life-bhjod Miiglit flow out. Consider his case. His proverbs arc the con- centration of liunian wisdom, — a philosophy of life which the world will never allow to die, and which shall make his name famous to all generations. He has known how to condense in terse apophthegms the thoughts that float in the cloud-land of luunan imagination ; but he fears that these will all die, and no one will remember him, so he makes his lieart to despair regarding a fatality which was never to come to pass. The tem})le which he built was to stand for many generations — the place of sacrifice and prayer, the type of Him who was to bring in a higher religion, and a deeper philosopliy of life. And yet of this he would cause his heart to despair too. Is it not a sufficient rebuke to the King's folly to know that the great purposes of Jehovah for man's redemp- tion w^ere embodied in that structure, and that its sacrifices and services we -e to enter into the contexture of the religious mind through all time to come ? The various palaces, tlie works of art, the cities which he reared — why despair even of them ? They have their uses, and subserve great ends. They are not enduring, it is true ; but why scorn '"FTI m i'H " I i j iii n «i«wia» 136 THE WISDOM OF THE KING. < i| them on that account ? Thousands have been