peace of nature-the condition in which, raised above all tides and storms of Change, they might sit calm and serene even though the strong ancient heavens and the solid earth should vanish away. This, and only this, will he recognise as the Chief Good, the Good appropriate to the nature of man, because capable of satisfying his deepest cravings and supplying all his wants. FIRST SECTION. The Quest of the Chief Good in Wisdom and Pleasure. The Quest in Wisdom. PPRESSED by his profound sense of the vanity of the life which man lives amid the play of permanent natural forces, Coheleth sets out to search for that true and supreme Good which it will be well for the sons of men to pursue through the brief day of their life; the Good which will make them happy under all their toils, and be "a portion" so large and enduring as to satisfy their vast desires. 1. And, as was natural in so wise a man, he turns first Chap. I., vv. 12-18. to Wisdom. He gives himself diligently to inquire into all the actions and toils of men. He will see whether a larger acquaintance with their conditions, a juster and completer estimate of their lot, will remove the depression under which he labours. He devotes himself heartily to this Quest, and acquires a "greater wisdom than all who were before him." This wisdom is not a scientific knowledge of social and political laws, nor is it the result of philosophical speculations on "the first good and the first fair," or on the moral nature and constitution of man. It is the wisdom that is born of wide and varied experience, not of abstract study. He acquaints himself with the facts of human life, with the circumstances, thoughts, feelings, hopes, and aims of all sorts and conditions of men. He is fain to know "all that men do under the sun," "all that is done under heaven." Like the good Caliph of Arabian story, "the good Haroun Alraschid," we may suppose that Coheleth goes forth in disguise to visit all quarters of the city; to talk with barbers, druggists, calenders, with merchants and mariners, husbandmen and tradesmen, mechanics and artisans; to try conclusions with travellers and with the blunt wits of homekeeping men. He will look with his own eyes and learn for himself what their lives are like, how they conceive of the human lot, and what, if any, are the mysteries which sadden and perplex them. He will ascertain whether they have any key that will unlock his perplexities, any wisdom that will solve his problems or help him to bear his burden with a more cheerful heart. Because his depression was fed by every fresh contemplation of the order of the universe, he turns from nature to the study of man. But this also he finds a heavy and disappointing task. After a complete and dispassionate scrutiny, when he has "seen much wisdom and knowledge," he concludes that man has no fair reward "for all his labours that he laboureth under the sun," that no wisdom avails to set straight that which is crooked in human affairs or to bring back into the number of the living those who have "gone." The sense of vanity bred by his contemplation of the stedfast order of nature only grows more profound as he reflects on the numberless and manifold disorders which afflict humanity. And therefore, before he ventures on a new experiment, he makes a pathetic appeal to the heart which he had so earnestly applied to the search, and in which he had stored up so large and various a knowledge, and confesses that "even this is vexation of spirit," that " in much wisdom is much sadness," and that "to multiply knowledge is to multiply sorrow." Now whether we consider the nature of the case or the conditions of the time in which this Book was written, we shall not be surprised at the mournful conclusion to which he comes. For the time was full of oppressions and cruel wrongs. Life was insecure. To acquire property was to court extortion. The captive Hebrews, and even the conquering race which ruled them, were slaves to the caprice of satraps and magistrates whose days were wasted in revelry and in the unbridled indulgence of their lusts. And to go among the various conditions of men groaning under a despotism so terrible, to see all the fair rewards of honest toil withheld, the noble degraded and the foolish exalted, the righteous trodden down by the feet of the wicked all this was not likely to quicken cheerful thoughts : in a wise man's heart; instead of solving, it could but complicate and darken the problems over which he was already brooding in despair. And apart from the special wrongs and oppressions of the time, it is inevitable in all times that the thoughtful student of men and manners should become a sadder as he becomes a wiser man. To multiply knowledge, at least of this kind, is to multiply sorrow. We need not be cynics and leave our tub only to reflect on the dishonesty of our neighbours; we need only go through the world with open observant eyes in order to learn that "in much wisdom is much sadness." Recall the wisest of modern times, those who have had the most intimate acquaintance with man and men,-Göethe, Carlyle, Thackeray, for example; are they not all touched with a profound sadness? Do they not look with some scorn * • Père Lacordaire has a fine passage on this theme. "Weak and little minds find here below a nourishment which suffices for their intellect and satisfies their love. They do not discover the emptiness of visible things because they are incapable of sounding them to the bottom. But a soul whom God has drawn nearer to the Infinite very soon feels the narrow limits within which it is pent; it experiences moments of inexpressible sadness, the cause of which for a long time remains a mystery: it even seems as though some strange concurrence of events must have chanced in order thus to disturb its life, and all the while the trouble comes from a higher source. In reading the lives of the saints, we find that nearly all of them have felt that sweet melancholy of which the ancients said that there was no genius without it. In fact, melancholy is inseparable from every mind that looks below the surface and every heart that feels profoundly. Not that we should take complacency in it, for it is a malady that enervates when we do not shake it off; and it has but two remedies |