ing stated in the twelve introductory verses the main design of the ensuing chapters, which is, to prove that all the solicitude which mankind give themselves for the acquisition of real earthly good must ever remain unrequited, he proceeds to demonstrate the truth of his positions from the events of his own biography. He commences his inquiries by a strict self-examination; and before he has cast a glance on the world without, he comes to the conclusion (chapter ii.) that physical enjoyment is unworthy the pursuit of a rational being. This he was perfectly warranted in affirming; for all the appliances of luxury stood at his command, he tested them all, and found them all equally worthless. He does not, however, stop at this stage of his researches; for he had resolved on ascertaining all for himself, on exploring every path of human activity, to the end that his want of success in the search after real earthly good might not be attributed to the imperfect nature of his investigation. Accordingly he next inquires into the value of mental attainments (v. 12), and also into the nature of the mind itself: but here likewise he meets with nothing satisfactory; for, although wisdom is certainly preferable to folly, they are still both subject to a common lot. Proceeding in this manner with his self-examination, he encounters nought but bitter disappointment, and is already induced (v. 17) to express himself disgusted with life. Such are the results of his inquiries as directed towards himself, from which he now passes (chap. iii.) to the external world; and thus he comes to a consideration of time and of mankind as existing in time. He investigates all that relates to this subject, and finds that God has indeed ordered every thing beautifully in time, and that every thing is dependent upon God; but he sees that men act unjustly towards one another, and mutually embitter each other's lives. He perceives that the just are often wrongfully dealt with by human tribunals (v. 16), while the unjust are permitted to escape with impunity: and thus the pious does not meet with his just reward in this life, nor the wicked with his proper punishment. From this he draws the conclusion (v. 17), that God will judge them both, and will then assign to the just his true reward, and to the unjust his true punishment. In this manner the Preacher shows that the grand argument for a belief in a system of rewards and punishments after death, lies in the unjust treatment which men experience at the hands of one another. Having thus arrived at the idea of God, the poet next endeavors (v. 18) to ascertain the nature of the relation existing between man and the Deity, with the view of discovering in what the superiority of man over all other creatures really consists. He examines life in all its several aspects, but cannot perceive that man enjoys any essential superiority in either his birth, his life, or his death, in all of which the fate of every created being is in all important respects the same. He, therefore, justly concludes (v. 21) that this is to be sought for in the future after death, when the spirit of man ascends to dwell with God, while that of the brute sinks into annihilation. In this consists the preacher's second argument for the existence. of a future state; so that he has already twice surmounted those formidable barriers which oppose the progress of the adventurous inquirer, and threaten to hurl him from their summits into the dark abyss of infidelity. Having thus rescued his belief in the justice of God from the mazy labyrinth of speculation, he is enabled to guide into the right path all those who venture in spite of his warnings to explore by the glimmering light of human reason the dark and hidden things of God and nature, and are thus drawn into imminent danger of perishing in its tortuous windings. Again (ch. iv.) the poet enters upon the world's wide stage, to view the life of man as exhibited in society. And here a sad spectacle presents itself before his eyes; he beholds man disconsolately weeping over the wrongs inflicted by the hand of his brother man; touched with emotions of pity and sorrow he exclaims (v. 2), "Happier are the dead because they are already dead, than the living because they are yet alive." He proceeds still further, and finds that all the labor and turmoil of men owe their origin to a mutual envy; and that this frequently assumes the hateful form of avarice, causing them to hoard up treasures merely to the end that they may become richer than their neighbors, while they themselves are totally unable to enjoy aught of the fruits of their parsimony. This sad experience suggests to him some reflections (v. 9), which he delivers in the shape of maxims, until he comes to consider the conduct to be observed in drawing near to God, with respect to which he gives (v. 17) the following advice. "Be on thy guard when thou enterest the house of God, and approachest to hear, against offering the sacrifice of fools, who do not consider the evil they do.' Being thus brought to an immediate consideration of the Deity, the poet goes on to describe further the conduct which man should pursue towards his Creator; his discourse turning especially on sins of the tongue, to which men are so prone that they often fall into them from sheer inadvertence. He warns (chap. v.) against wordiness in prayer, since one who speaks much is extremely liable to let fall some foolish thing. In the Proverbs (10: 19) Solomon censures the commission of the same fault in ordinary conversation : "In many words there is not wanting sin ; But he who restrains his lips is wise." This is also reprehended by Cato in the following words : "Rumores fuge, ne incipias novus auctor haberi : Nam nulli tacuisse noret, noret esse locutum." Our author next exhorts to the performance of vows (v. 3), as a duty to which a man is bound by his words, and which if left unfulfilled will only add to the sinner's guilt. Thus too the Grecian poet : “ Μὴν ἐπιορκήσῃς, μὴν ἀγνῶς, μὴτι ἑκοντί Ψεύδορκον στογέει Θέος ἄβροτος ὅς τις ομόσσῃ.” Having laid down his precepts on the subject of our duty to God with regard to language, he returns to a consideration of the manifold evils which follow in the train of insatiable avarice, and these he places before the view of the covetous man (v. 9, 17) with the intention of checking if possible the greedy thirst of gain. He shows him, reflected in the clear glass of truth, the quiet happy life of the contented man as contrasted with his own, and which Cato with his usual terseness thus recommends : "Commoda naturae nullo tibi tempore deerunt Si contentus eo fueris quod postulat usus." This suggests to him the precarious tenure on which all earthly possessions are held; and shows him that should he by any accident be deprived of them without allowing himself to enjoy them, the reflection would render him far more unhappy than he would have been had riches never fallen to his lot. He concludes (v. 17) with the rational advice, to enjoy with moderation the gifts of Providence, instead of striving incessantly after more. So Cato: "Utere quesitis opibus, fuge nomen avari : Quid tibi divitiae prosunt, si pauper abundas !" The vision of avarice conjured up before the poet's mental eye has taken too powerful a hold on his imagination to be at once dispelled; the ghastly form still floats before him. As he proceeds, (chap. vi.) in describing the horrors that occupy his soul, he exclaims: (v. 3) " If a man have a hundred children, and live many years, and lead a prosperous life, but do not enjoy his good things, or receive funeral rites, I declare, that a premature birth is happier than he." And he ends (v. 12) with setting forth the folly of the miser, in allowing himself no enjoyment in this life, which he permits to pass from him like a shadow, without knowing what the future is to bring forth. And here (chap. vii.) the poet pauses awhile to lay down a number of additional maxims, the fruit of his preceding investigations. From the censure of folly he naturally passes to the praise of wisdom, by which he is led back (v. 13) to his main argument, that man cannot penetrate the designs of God. From this he deduces (v. 16) the general principle of a medium in all things, which he seeks to impress on the minds of his fellow-men as their safest guide through the intricate paths of life; for he says (v. 23), "All this have I tried by wisdom: I said, I shall become wise; but it remained far from me." And again (v. 25), I applied with heart and soul to the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom; but I found at last that the fruits of this anxious desire to investigate every thing were bitterer than death; and that he alone who trusts steadfastly in God, and to whom God is gracious, can escape with safety from the labryinth in which such an undertaking must involve him. This new result of his researches serves to give additional strength to his previous warnings against the restless search after forbidden knowledge; for in consequence of the barriers that in every direction oppose the progress of human inquiry, the man who is not content with that portion of knowledge which it is permitted him to obtain, must either be condemned to perpetual grief for the frustration of his desires; or else, by breaking through the bounds prescribed to humanity, he will become an outcast from his species, and in consequence be plunged into the very lowest depths of despair. Yet hear the words of Lucretius: "Ut genus humanum frustra plerumque probavit The design thus exhibited by the sacred writer, to warn mankind against every species of ill-regulated desire by pointing out its evil consequences, appears also to lie as the principal idea at the bottom of the masterpiece of Göthe, we mean his Faust. There exists, however, a marked difference between the two works even in this respect: Our author directly warns against the error, and in the most earnest and forcible language predicts its dire results; while Göthe shadows it forth dramatically in the fate of a single individual, and shows by this means that the possessor of the rarest talents by breaking through the laws of his nature will come to be at variance with the world around him, and thus convert it into a hell as regards himself even while he lives. The Preacher, having completed his inquiries into the obligations of man to himself, now enters (chap. viii.) upon those which he is under to his fellow-men; and first he takes into consideration the king, as the highest individual in human society, and prescribes rules for the conduct to be observed towards him. He begins by recommending to subjects in general, as their first and highest duty, an unshaken fidelity to their sovereign (v. 3), and then speaks of the punishments which await evil rulers. In this chapter the poet leaves the skeptical mode of arguing with which he set out, and merely proposes questions to himself in order to show the manner in which he arrives at his doctrines; having done this, he proceeds to lay them down in the manner of a teacher. As already observed, he first recommends the observance of steadfast obedience to the king, even should his reign be tyrannical: the reason for which is, that tyranny cannot be of long duration, and punishment must overtake it in the end. He conducts his readers (v. 10) in imagination to the tyrants' tombs, and exhibits them as consigned to an eternal oblivion, which in the East is considered to be the most severe of all inflictions; and then (v. 12) breaks out into the joyous exclamation, "Though the sinner do evil an hundred times, and carry it on long, sure am I that in the end it will be well with those who fear God." Yet to this pleasing conviction is immediately opposed (v. 14) the sad experience which seems to contradict it, that it as frequently goes well with the wicked, and ill with the good. This threatens to draw him once more into the vortex of materialism; but, says the poet (v. 16), as I endeavored with the greatest anxiety to find out the reason of all this, I became convinced |