CHAPTER V.

THE PRAISE OF WISDOM.

‘Thou hast kept the good wine until now,’ for ‘good wine’ well describes the glorious little treatise at the head of our Book of Proverbs (i. 7-ix. 18). I do not think it is right to infer from the heading in i. 1 that its unknown author assumed the mask of Solomon. In itself such a hypothesis would not be incredible. We have the analogy of the Egyptian scribe who represents Amenemhat I. ‘rising up like a god’ and addressing to his son some instructions on the royal art of governing.[219] But it is more natural to explain the heading as a repetition of the formula in x. 1, for the ‘Praise of Wisdom’ (to coin another title) is in fact the introduction to the following anthology,[220] together with which and its appendices it forms the ‘older book of Proverbs.’ If we ask why an introduction was prefixed, the answer must be that the writer wished to recommend his own inspiring view of practical ethics as a branch of divine wisdom; in other words, to counteract the sometimes commonplace morality of the earlier proverbs by enveloping the reader in a purer and more ethereal atmosphere. The key-note of the anthology is nothing but Experience; that of the introductory treatise is Divine Teaching. It is a sign of moral progress that the editor of an anthology of Experience should have thought his work only half-done till he had prefixed the ‘Praise of Wisdom.’ As a wise teacher of our own time[221] has observed, ‘It would not be untrue to say that in all essential points Experience is the teacher only of fools, of those who have gone astray through turning a deaf ear to the voice of a prior and more legitimate teacher.’ The nature of the wisdom so earnestly commended by this self-forgetting writer, we will consider presently; and our study will probably convince us that such a writer can only have arisen at an advanced period of Israel’s history. The class or circle to which he belonged, and its characteristics, can easily be determined; but the precise period only with some degree of hesitation. Without anticipating the discussion which will be given at another point, I think it may safely be laid down that each of those kindred poems—the ‘Praise of Wisdom’ and ‘Job’—must have arisen at one of three periods, marked respectively by the composition of Deuteronomy, by the Captivity, and by the Restoration. The progress of the higher Israelitish wisdom was so gradual that it does not perhaps, to the exegete as distinguished from the historian, greatly matter which of these periods we select. For my own part, however, I incline to connect at any rate the former of these works with the age of Deuteronomy. Apart from the details to be mentioned elsewhere, it is clear (I speak now of Prov. i.-ix.) that the tone of the exhortations, and the view of religion as ‘having the promise of the life that now is,’ correspond to similar characteristics of the Book of Deuteronomy. And if we turn from the contents to the form of this choice little book, the same hypothesis seems equally suitable. The prophets had long since seen the necessity of increasing their influence by committing the main points of their discourses to writing; some rhetorical passages indeed were evidently composed to be read and not to be heard. It was natural that the moralists should follow this example, not only (as in the anthologies) by remodelling their wise sayings for publication, but also by venturing on long and animated quasi-oratorical recommendations of great moral truths.

Such a recommendation, addressed especially to the young and impressionable (i. 4), lies before us in chaps. i.-ix. In grave but harmonious accents the opening verses (which refer chiefly to i. 7-ix. 18, but not without a secondary reference to the anthology which follows) describe its object and character. Then follows a motto, the first line of which occurs again near the close of the book in ix. 10 (Job xxviii. 28, Ps. cxi. 10), and which stamps the author as belonging to a new and more religious class of ‘wise men’ (see p. 121),—

The fear of Jehovah is the beginning of wisdom,

i.e. the foundation of true wisdom (its ‘root,’ Ecclus. i. 20) is reverence. The disciple is to begin by taking this upon trust, but when further advanced he will see that it is the shortest way to his goal, true wisdom having an objective existence in the unseen world. At present he is simply to follow the ‘direction’ of those wiser than himself:—our moralist is as zealous for a _tōra_ as the author of Deuteronomy. But though serious and authoritative, he is never stern; indeed, to enforce his appeal he breaks through a Hebrew writer’s usual veil of reticence and describes his own home-life (iv. 3, 4). He can enter into the feelings of the young, for he too has ‘borne the yoke in his youth’ (Lam. iii. 27), and learned to prefer it to ‘unchartered freedom.’ The whole of chap. iv. is devoted to a summary of the wise doctrine which he received from his father; indeed, throughout the book he shows a wonderful appreciation of the parental and the filial relations, and, according to Ewald’s arrangement (see below), begins each section with an exhortation to listen to parental instruction. He himself feels like a father to his young disciples (iv. 1).

The errors to which his hearers are specially tempted are highway robbery (i. 11-18, iv. 16, 17) and unchastity (ii. 16, v. 3-20, vi. 24-35, vii. 5-27, ix. 13-18). From the time that the simplicity of the ancient life began to give way to the inroads of luxury, we meet in the Biblical writings with complaints of acts of violence leading to murder (see, for instance, in the prophecies, Isa. i. 15, v. 7, xxxiii. 15, Mic. iii. 10, Jer. ii. 34, xxii. 17, Isa. lix. 3, 7, and in a collection of proverbs contemporary with our book, Prov. xxiv. 15, 16). ‘At no time,’ as Dean Plumptre well remarks, ‘has Palestine ever risen to the security of a well-ordered police-system;’ even down to the fall of Jerusalem, bands of robbers defied the authority of the central government. The remarkable thing is that young men in the higher circles of society (for such our moralist appears to address) should be thought capable of joining the banditti, at a time when ‘bandit’ could not be synonymous with ‘patriot.’ Our moralist contents himself with dissuading his disciple from doing so, on the ground of the retribution which will follow (i. 18, 19). The exhortation to industry, with its slow but sure profits, comes later, and in a less appropriate place (vi. 6-8). But the other besetting sin of youth is still more earnestly denounced as the most glaring specimen of ‘folly.’ Once indeed the ‘strange, or alien, woman,’ i.e. the adulteress, is introduced dramatically as ‘Madam Folly’ (ix. 13). The picture is remarkable, and forms a designed contrast to that at the beginning of the chapter. She sits at the door of her house, counterfeiting her great rival Wisdom (comp. ver. 14 with ver. 3, and ver. 16 with ver. 4), like Dante’s Siren; but the disciple of the ‘wise man’ knows

... that phantoms are there, and that her guests are in the depths of Sheól (ix. 18; comp. ii. 18, xxi. 16).

‘Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way?’ is the problem for our moralist to solve. He does so by insisting on an education conducted in reliance on divine Wisdom. The reward of diligent attention to the earlier lessons (for each chapter is a lesson, and its repetitions have a pedagogic justification) is the famous portrait of Wisdom in viii. 22-31. She (for Wisdom, _khokma_, is a feminine word) has indeed been mentioned before (i. 20, iii. 13-20, iv. 5-9), but from viii. 1 to ix. 6 the poet is absorbed in his grand personification. Wisdom is now presented to us, in the familiar dialect of poetry, as the firstborn Child of the Creator. There is but one Wisdom; though her forms are many, in her origin she is one. The Wisdom who presided over the ‘birth’ of nature is the same who by her messengers (the ‘wise men’) calls mankind to turn aside from evil (ix. 3). There can therefore be no real disharmony between nature and morality; the picture leaves no room for an Ahriman, in this and other respects resembling the Cosmogony in Gen. i. and portions of the striking descriptions in Job xxvi., xxviii., xxxviii. There is also no time when we can say that ‘Wisdom was not.’ Faith declares that even in that primitive Chaos of which our reason has a horror divine Wisdom reigned supreme. The heavenly ocean, the ancient hills, the combination of countless delicate atoms to form the ground, the fixing of the vault of heaven on the world-encircling ocean, the separation of sea and dry land[222]—all these were later works of God than the Architect through whom He made them. And how did the Architect work? By a ‘divine improvisation’ which allowed no sense of effort or fatigue, and which still continues with unabated freshness. But though her sportive path[223] can still be traced in the processes of nature, her highest delight is in the regeneration of the moral life of humanity. The passage runs thus—

Jehovah produced[224] me as the beginning of his way, as the first of his works, long since. From of old I received my place, from the beginning, from the first times of the earth. When there were no floods, I was brought forth, when there were no fountains rich in water. Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth; While as yet he had not made the earth with (its) fields, and the atoms of dust which form the ground. When he established the heaven, I was there, when he marked a circle upon the face of the flood,[225]

When he made firm the sky above, when he strengthened the fountains of the flood, When he appointed to the sea his bound, that the waters should not transgress his command, when he fixed the foundations of the earth, Then was I beside him as architect, and was daily full of delight, sporting[226] before him at all times, I who (still) have sport with his fruitful earth, and have my delight with the sons of men.

The bold originality of this passage requires no proof. It cuts away at a blow the old mythical conception of the world as the work of God’s hands, and of an arbitrary omnipotence. ‘God,’ as Hooker says, ‘is a law both to himself and to all things beside;’ ‘his wisdom hath stinted the effects of his power.’ ‘Nor is the freedom of the will of God any whit abated, let, or hindered, by means of this; because the imposition of this law upon himself is his own free and voluntary act’ (‘Jehovah produced me’). The idea, then, of the world as a Cosmos was not adopted by the Jews from the Greeks; it arose of itself as soon as religious men pondered over the phenomena of nature. The author of _Job_ took up the idea, and reexpressed it worthily in xxviii. 12-28, the chief difference between him and his predecessor being that he denies the attainableness for man of wisdom in the larger sense, while the author of the ‘Praise of Wisdom’ does not raise the question whether the higher department of wisdom is open to human enquiry.

At the subsequent history of the conception of Wisdom we can barely glance.[227] The cosmogonist in Gen. i., a sublime thinker, but addressing untutored minds, preferred to convey truth in forms borrowed from mythology. The moralists however saw the poetical and religious importance of the personification of Wisdom, and repeatedly introduced it into their didactic works (see Ecclus. i., xxiv., Wisd. vi.-ix.,[228] and comp. Bar. iii. 29-37). Sirach even takes a step in advance of his original, and at least for a moment identifies Wisdom with the Law of Moses.[229] It became indeed a tradition of Jewish exegesis (see _Pirke Aboth_, vi. 10) to interpret the absolute Khokma of the Tora, either in opposition to Hellenistic views of the higher wisdom, or from a practical instinct such as Wordsworth followed when in praise of Duty he employed figures which had occurred long before in the ‘Praise of Wisdom,’ or (a closer parallel) Richard Hooker, when he described the Scripture as one embodiment of that divine Law which he so splendidly eulogises at the close of his first book. That Jewish legalism degenerated into a mechanical formalism, should not blind us to the practical instinct in which it originated.

The title ‘The Praise of Wisdom’ has now, I hope, been justified. The passage quoted above forms the high-water mark of this elevated poetry, and points the way to the grand things in the poem of Job. Regularity of structure is not a merit of our treatise, but the repetitions are not feeble, and are perhaps deliberately made. The author is a _didactic_ poet, and only after he can presume that his lessons have been assimilated will he venture on his highest flights. Does Ewald bear this in mind when he divides the book into three sections, I. a general exhortation to wisdom, in which the whole of the truth is touched upon, but no part is completely unfolded (i. 8-iii. 35); II. an exhaustive treatment of a few details (iv. 1-vi. 19); III. a gradual rise to the highest and most universal truth, closing in almost lyric enthusiasm (vi. 20-ix. 18)? Or Hitzig, when, to suit an artificial arrangement, he omits as later additions iii. 22-26, vi. 1-19, viii. 4-12, 14-16, ix. 7-10? These are the two extremes of critical theory; their failure may be taken as a proof that the only possible division is one like that of Delitzsch into fifteen poems, rather loosely connected together, but presenting the same peculiarities of style and diction. _Mashals_ we can only term them in a wide sense of the word; not condensation but expansion is the characteristic of this book; the discourse flows on till the subject has been exhausted, and then, after a brief pause, it gushes forth anew. One of the chapters (ii.) actually forms a single carefully elaborated sentence. Now and then the matter is more broken up; we meet with some small groups of detached sentences (e.g. iii. 27-35, vi. 1-11, 12-19), which introduce some variety into the style, and suggest that the author revised his work with the view of making it an ethical manual, as well as an introduction to the anthology. In one of these groups we find the interesting similitude of the ant, which the Septuagint has supplemented by one of purely Greek origin (see Hitzig and Lagarde) on the bee.

The author has the pen of a ready writer, and his work shows that he has studied the literature of his time. He was familiar[230] with the phraseology of the ‘Solomonic’ proverbs, though he struck out a style of his own, in harmony with the altered conditions of the teaching office. He addresses those who have time to listen, and taste to appreciate his flowing rhetoric. He implies throughout that his audience belongs to the wealthier class, and his favourite images are drawn from the life of the merchant.[231] Clearly too he has a strong hold upon the doctrine that prosperity and adversity are indicative of moral character. Thus, speaking of ethical Wisdom, he says,

Length of days is in her (Wisdom’s) right hand, in her left riches and honour (iii. 16).[232]

And yet there is evidence, even in Prov. i.-ix., of a nascent scepticism on this point, originating probably in some recent event, such as the captivity of the Ten Tribes. In words which remind us of Psalms xxxvii. and lxxiii. the writer exclaims—

Envy thou not the man of violence, and have thou pleasure in none of his ways.... The curse of Jehovah is in the house of the ungodly, but the habitation of the righteous he blesses (iii. 31, 33);

and to furnish his disciples with an answer to the sceptic—

Truly, whom Jehovah loves, he corrects, and as a father the son in whom he delights (iii. 12; comp. Job v. 17).

With this sweet saying I take leave for the present of this beautiful work. How true it is that the doubts of a believer are the stepping-stones to higher attainments of faith!

Footnote 219:

(Maspero) _Records of the Past_, ii. 9-16.

Footnote 220:

Its close relation to the first of the two great anthologies is shown by the linguistic points of contact between the two works (see Chap. VI.)

Footnote 221:

Rev. J. H. Thorn.

Footnote 222:

The poet, we can see, has not arranged the creative works as carefully as the cosmogonist in Genesis.

Footnote 223:

Pleaseth him, the Eternal Child, To play his sweet will, glad and wild.—Emerson, _Wood Notes_.

Footnote 224:

‘Produced’ seems the best rendering (Sept., ἔκτισε), in the sense of ‘creating,’ not (as Del.) of ‘revealing,’ for which there is no authority. The secondary meaning ‘possessed’ (Aquila &c. ἐκτήσατο, Vulg. _possedit_; comp. Eccles. xxiv. 6) is less agreeable to the context (see Hitzig’s note). There is the same diversity of rendering in Gen. xiv. 19-22. On the patristic expositions of this passage, see Dean Goode, _The Divine Rule of Faith and Practice_, ed. 1, i. 299. The ante-Nicene Fathers mostly apply it to the divine generation of the Son, the post-Nicene to the generation of the human nature of Christ. Basil and Epiphanius are exceptions. The former applies the passage to ‘that wisdom which the apostle mentions’ (in 1 Cor. i. 21): the latter expresses a strong opinion that ‘it does not at all speak concerning the Son of God.’

Footnote 225:

Comp. Milton’s noble conception of the Creator’s golden compasses (_Par. Lost_, vii. 225, 6).

Footnote 226:

Comp. Delitzsch, _System der christlichen Apologetik_, § 16, where the history of this conception in Jewish literature is traced in connection with that of the Logos-idea; also Ewald, _Die Lehre der Bibel von Gott_, iii. 74-77.

Footnote 227:

In Wisd. vii. 22 &c. the language appears to some to rise above poetical personification, and to imply a conscious hypostatising of Wisdom. Dante, a good judge on this point, certainly thought otherwise (_Convito_, iii. 15); he evidently holds that the Sophia of the Book of Wisdom is precisely analogous to his own very strong personification of divine Philosophy. Still such language may have partly prepared the way for the well-known Gnostic myth of Achamoth or Sophia (comp. Baur, _Three First Centuries_, E. T., i. 207). It was well, as Plumptre remarks, that Philo adopted Logos rather than Sophia as the name of the creative energy. A system in which Sophia had been the dominant word might have led to an earlier development of Mariolatry (Introduction to Proverbs in the _Speaker’s Commentary_).

Footnote 228:

Ecclus. xxiv. 23. (Comp. a sublime passage of E. Irving, identifying the contents of the ‘sacred volume’ with ‘the primeval divinity of revealed Wisdom,’ _Miscellanies_, p. 380 &c.) According to late Jewish theology, the Law is one of the seven things produced before the creation of the world. The alphabet-fables in Talmud and Midrash, in which letters of the alphabet converse with God, presuppose the same view (comp. the Mohammedan view of the Koran).

Footnote 229:

So Milton (a Hebraist), _Paradise Lost_, vii. 10 (‘didst play’), and again in _Tetrachordon_ (‘God himself conceals not his own recreations,’ &c.)

Footnote 230:

The proof of this cannot be given here.

Footnote 231:

See ii. 4, iii. 13-15, iv. 7, vii. 16, 17, 19, 20 (especially), viii. 10, 18-21.

Footnote 232:

Comp. i. 32, 33, ii. 21, 22, iii. 1-10, ix. 11, 12, 18.