We have studied the masterpiece of Hebrew wisdom before examining the nature of the intellectual product which the Israelites themselves graced with this title. The Book of Job is in fact much more than a didactic treatise like Ecclesiastes or a collection of pointed moral sayings like the Books of Proverbs and Ecclesiasticus. Its authors were more than thinkers, they were poets, ‘makers,’ great imaginative artists. But we must not be unjust to those who were primarily thinkers, and only in the second degree poets. The phase of Hebrew thought called ‘wisdom’ (khokma) can be studied even better in Proverbs and Ecclesiastes than in the poetry of Job. Let us then enquire at this point, What is this Hebrew wisdom? First of all, it is the link between the more exceptional revelations of Old Testament prophecy and the best moral and intellectual attainments of other nations than the Jews. ‘Wisdom’ claims inspiration (as we have seen already), but never identifies itself with the contents of oracular communications.[138] Nor yet does it pretend to be confined to a chosen race. Job himself was a non-Israelite (the Rabbis were even uncertain as to his part in the world to come); and the wisdom of the ‘wise king’ is declared to have been different in degree alone from that of the neighbouring peoples[139] (1 Kings iv. 30, 31; comp. Jer. xlix. 7, Obad. 8). It is to be observed next, that the range of enquiry of this ‘wisdom’ is equally wide, according to the Biblical use of the term.[140] ‘Wisdom,’ as Sirach tells us, ‘rains forth skill’ of every kind; ‘the first man knew her not perfectly: no more shall the last trace her out’ (Ecclus. i. 19, xxiv. 28). Nothing is too high, nothing too low for Wisdom ‘fitly’ to ‘order’ (Wisd. viii. I). Law and government (Prov. viii. 15, 16), and even the precepts of husbandry (Isa. xxviii. 23-29) are equally her productions with those moral observations which constitute in the main the three books of the Hebrew Khokma. The fact that the subject of practical ethics ultimately appropriated the technical name of ‘wisdom’ ought not to blind us to the larger connotation of the same word, which throws so much light on the deeply religious view of life prevalent among the Israelites. For religious this view of wisdom is, though it may seem to be so thoroughly secular. The versatility of the mind of man is but an image of the versatility of its archetype. ‘The spirit of man is a lamp of Jehovah,’ says one of the ‘wise men’ (Prov. xx. 27), by an anticipation of John i. 9. ‘Surely it is the spirit in man,’ says another (Job xxxii. 8), ‘and the breath of Shaddai which gives them understanding.’ Isaiah, too, says that the ‘spirit of wisdom’ is one of the three chief manifestations of the ‘Spirit of Jehovah’ (Isa. xi. 2), and the introductory treatise, which gives the editor’s view of the original Book of Proverbs, expressly declares that the ‘wise men’ are but the messengers of divine Wisdom (ix. 3).
The sages, whose collected wisdom we are about to study, are very different from those antique sages who like Balaam could be hired to curse a hostile people. A new kind of wisdom grew up both in Israel and in the neighbouring countries, as unlike its spurious counterpart as the spiritual lyric poetry both of Israel and of Babylonia is unlike the incantations which in Babylonia coexisted with it. Israel, never slow to adopt, received the higher wisdom, and assimilated it. The earthly elements can still be traced in it; the ‘wise men’ are not prophets but philosophers; indeed, the Seven Wise Men of Greece arose at precisely the same stage of culture as the Hebrew sages. It is true, the latter never (in pre-Talmudic times) attempted logic and metaphysics; they contentedly remained within the sphere of practical ethics. If a modern equivalent must be found, it would be best to call them the humanists, to indicate their freedom from national prejudice (the word ‘Israel’ does not occur once, the word ādām ‘man’ thirty-three times in the Book of Proverbs), and their tendency to base a sound morality on its adaptation to human nature. We might also venture to call them realists in contradistinction to the idealists of the prophethood; they held out no prospect of a Messianic age, and ‘meddled not with them that were given to change.’[141] The sages whose ‘wisdom’ is handed down to us were not however opposed to the spiritual prophets. It is only ‘the fool’ (or, to employ a synonym from the proverbs, the ‘scorner’ or ‘mocker’) who ‘saith in his heart, There is no God.’ A mocking poet of a late period may demand the Creator’s name (Prov. xxx. 4), but the writer who (if I may anticipate) has perpetuated this strange poem indicates his own very different mental attitude; and though religious proverbs are less abundant than secular in the early anthologies, such as we do find are pure and elevated in tone. For instance,
One point in which the wise men agreed with Amos and Isaiah was the inferiority of a ceremonial system[143] to prayer and faithful obedience (xv. 8, xxi. 3, 27, xvi. 6), and the importance which one of the proverb-writers attached to prophecy is strikingly expressed (if only the text be sound) in the saying,
The prophets seem to have returned the friendly feeling of the sages. In tone and phraseology they are sometimes evidently influenced by their fellow-teachers (see e.g. Isa. xxviii. 23-29, xxix. 24, xxxiii. 11), and if they do not often refer to the wise men,[144] yet they do not denounce them, as they denounce the priests and the lower prophets. It may perhaps be inferred from this that there was in the early times no opposition-party of sceptical wise men, such as Ewald supposes,[145] and such as not improbably did exist in later times (see below on xxx. 1-4); and I notice that Ewald himself does not attempt to strengthen his view by appealing to the phrase ‘men of scorn’ in Isa. xxviii. 14, which some, following Rashi and Aben Ezra, explain of wise men who misused their talent by making mischievous proverbs.[146] The inference mentioned just now commends itself to me as sound; but I admit that the saying on prophecy in Prov. xxix. 18 (already quoted) is isolated, and that the tone of the religious proverbs falls far short of enthusiasm. This is probably all that M. Renan means in a too French sentence of his work on Ecclesiastes. Religion, according to the wise men, was a necessary element in a worthy character, was even (I should say) the principal element, but the religion of these practical moralists has nothing of that delighted abandon which we find in the more distinctly religious Scriptures. ‘Happy the man who dreadeth continually,’ says one characteristic proverb (xxviii. 14; contrast the ‘not caring’ of the ‘fool’ in xiv. 16). Later on, a more devout moralist writes that ‘the fear of Jehovah is the beginning of wisdom’ (i. 7), and though ‘fear’ need not exclude ‘love’ yet there is nothing here to suggest their combination. The proverb of the Egyptian prince Ptahhotep,[147] ‘To obey is to love God; not to obey is to hate God,’ has no parallel, at any rate in the early anthologies; much less does the great saying in Ps. lxxiii. 25 strike a note congenial to any of the Hebrew sages. And yet it remains true that the wise men happily supplemented the more spiritual teaching of psalmists and prophets.
There is still another important point on which both prophets and ‘wise men’ were agreed. Whatever their inward religion may have been, they (like the Egyptian moralists) were outwardly utilitarians; i.e., they invite men to practise righteousness, not because righteousness is the secret of blessedness, but because of its outward rewards both for the man himself and for his posterity (Prov. xi. 21, xx. 7; comp. Jer. xxxii. 18). The form in which the doctrine of proportionate retribution is expressed in xi. 4 would have been completely acceptable to the prophets, whose conception of the ‘day of Jehovah’ (i.e., not the last great dies ira but any providential crisis in the world’s history) is adopted in it,—
Proverbs expressing this idea in various forms abound in the first anthology. Not a hint is given that retribution loiters on the road; at most a warning not to envy the (temporary) prosperity of the wicked (xxiii. 17, xxiv. 1, 19; with regard to xxiii. 18 see above).
This was the ‘certitude of the golden age,’ to use Mr. Matthew Arnold’s expression; it is just what we might expect in a simple and stationary condition of society. The strange thing is that it should have lasted on when oppression within or hostile attacks from without had brought manifold causes of sorrow upon both good and bad.[148] That the teachers of the people should have held up the doctrine of earthly retribution—
as long as it could reasonably be defended, was natural. But that shortly before the Maccabean rising a ‘wise man’[149] should still be found to write—
seems to contradict the usual correspondence between the received moral theory and the outward circumstances of society. All that we can say is that such inconsistencies are found to exist; old forms of doctrine do not, as a rule, ‘melt like frosty rime.’ There must have been circles of Jewish moralists averse to speculation, who would continue to repeat the older view of the providential government even at a time when the social state had completely exposed its shallowness.
Dean Plumptre, indeed, following Ewald, credits the ‘wise men’ of pre-Exile times with deeper views. According to him, certain proverbs, e.g. x. 25, xi. 4, xiv. 32, xxiii. 18 (Ewald adds xii. 28) imply the hope of immortality. None of these passages however can be held conclusive. x. 25, xi. 4 simply say that the righteous shall be unhurt in a day of judgment; in xiv. 32 the antithesis is between the ruin which follows upon wickedness and the safe refuge of integrity (read b’thummō with the Sept.); in xxiii. 18, ‘there is a future,’ the reference is perfectly vague—it is natural to explain by comparing Job xlii. 12, xii. 28, no doubt, on Ewald’s view of the passage, seems conclusive,
But this great word ‘immortality’ is unparalleled before the Book of Wisdom, and cannot fairly be extracted from the Hebrew.[150] The Septuagint has a different view of the pronunciation of the text, and renders ὁδοὶ δὲ μνησικάκων εἰς θάνατον. The easiest plan is to correct n’thībhāh into nith’ābh, with Levy, and render,
I do not deny that the idea of eternal life may have been conceived at the time of these proverbs. This may plausibly be inferred from the occurrence of the phrase ‘a tree of life’ in iii. 18, xi. 30, xiii. 12, xv. 4, and ‘a fountain of life’ in x. 11, xiii. 14, xiv. 27, xvi. 22,—phrases certainly borrowed from some traditional story of Paradise analogous to that in Gen. ii.[151] It is a singular fact however that in all these passages (even, I think, in iii. 18) these expressions are simply figurative synonyms for ‘refreshment,’ which suggests that the proverb-writers shrank from using them in their literal sense of the individual righteous man.
The importance of the ‘wise men’ as a class is too seldom recognised. To the hasty reader they are overshadowed by the prophets, between whom and the rude masses they seem to have occupied a middle position. Their popular style and genial manners attracted probably a large number of disciples; at any rate, in the time of Jeremiah the ‘counsel’ of the ‘wise men’ was valued as highly as the ‘direction’ (tōra) of the priests and the ‘word’ of the prophets (Jer. xviii. 18). By constantly working on suitable individuals, they produced a moral sympathy with the prophets, without which those heroic men would have laboured in vain. Thus that friendly relation must have sprung up between the prophets and the ‘wise men,’ of which I have spoken already, and which reminds us of the sanction said to have been given to the Seven Sages of Greece by the oracle of Delphi.[152]
It is a misfortune that our sources for the history of Israelitish ‘philosophy’ are so scanty. Were there ‘wise men’ in N. Israel? and if so, have any of their proverbs come down to us, besides the mashal or fable of Jotham? Did they confine their activity to the capital city or cities, or did they also, like the ‘scribes,’ settle or itinerate in the provinces? (Matt. ix. 3, Targ. of Judg. v. 9.) Did their public instructions assume anything like the form of the proverbs of our anthologies? Did they teach without fee or reward?[153] At any rate, a post-Exile proverb-writer tells us with retrospective glance where the ‘wise men’ awaited their disciples—not in the quietude of the chamber, but either within the massive city-gates, or in the adjacent squares or ‘broad places’ on which the streets converged (i. 20, 21; comp. Job xxix. 7). No doubt they had a large stock of sayings in their memory, such as had been tested by the experience of past generations. Sometimes they would modify old proverbs, sometimes they would frame new ones, so that when their disciples gathered round them, they would ‘bring out of their treasure things new and old.’ From time to time they would commit their ‘wisdom’ to writing in a more perfect form, and such records must have formed the basis of the proverbial collections in the Old Testament.
In one of the opening verses of the Book of Proverbs (i. 6) three technical names for varieties of proverbs are put together:—(1) māshāl, a short, pointed saying with reference to some striking feature in the life of an individual, or in human life generally, often clothed in figurative language (whence, according to many, the name māshāl, as if ‘similitude;’ comp. παραβολή), (2) m’lîça, perhaps a ‘bent’, ‘oblique’ or (as Sept.) ‘dark’ saying, (3) khîda, a ‘knotty’ or intricate saying, especially a riddle. Each of these words has a variety of applications; for instance (1) is used in Num. xxiii., xxiv., for a parallelistic poem, (1) and (2) sometimes mean a ‘taunting speech’ (see below, and comp. Hab. ii. 6, Isa. xiv. 4, Mic. ii. 4), and (3) can be used, not merely of true riddles with a moral meaning, such as we find here and there in Prov. xxx., but also of didactic statements upon subjects as difficult as riddles (see Ps. xlix. 5, A.V. 4, lxxviii. 2). We have no collection of popular proverbs, such as exists in Arabic; the proverbs in the canonical collection show great technical elaboration, though some may be based on the naive ‘wisdom’ of the people. A very few specimens of the popular proverb have indeed been preserved in the canonical literature.[154] ‘Is Saul also among the prophets?’ (1 Sam. x. 12, xix. 24) preserves the memory of a humorous fact in the story of that king. ‘Wickedness proceeds from the wicked’ (1 Sam. xxiv. 13) is, unlike the former, a generalisation, and means that a man’s character is shown by his actions (comp. Isa. xxxii. 6). ‘As is the mother, so is the daughter’ (Ezek. xvi. 44) is also an induction from common experience. ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’ (Jer. xxii. 29, Ezek. xviii. 2), words applied no doubt, as Lowth says, profanely, but not originally meant so, is a figurative way of saying that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. We have one specimen of the riddle (strictly so called)—that well-known one of Samson’s,
The parable, too, was doubtless called mashal, and of this we have three Old Testament examples, which will at once occur to the reader (2 Sam, xii. 1-6, xiv. 4-9, 1 Kings xx. 39, 40); but it is more important to draw the reader’s attention to the rare specimens of the fable. Some may think it bold to refer in this connection to a portion of a narrative which seems at first sight to be historical (Num. xxi. 22-35). The strange episode of the speaking ass is, however, most difficult to understand, except as a sportive quasi-historical version of a popular mashal or fable (compare the four Babylonian animal-fables discovered among the fragments of King Assurbanipal’s library).[155] The passage being evidently distinct from the rest of the story of Balaam, in passing this judgment upon it, we are not committed as a matter of course to a denial of all historical character to the rest of the narrative. The fables of Jotham (Judg. ix. 8-15) and Joash (2 Kings xiv. 9), in which the trees are introduced speaking, have also their parallels in Babylonian literature. One of them indeed has a claim to be called a mashal on a second account; the tree-fable of Joash is a taunt of the keenest edge, and one of the secondary meanings of mashal is ‘taunting speech’ (see Isa. xiv. 4, A.V.). It is true the ‘taunting speeches’ expressly called mashals—not only those in the prophetic writings (see above), but the verses ascribed to ‘those that speak in mashals’ in Num. xxi. 27-30—are poetical in form, but this is because the Hebrew writers never conceived the idea of a narrative poem; even the prologue of the Book of Job is in prose.
These are the principal specimens of the mashal apart from those in the three Books of Old Testament Wisdom. They are but the ‘two or three berries’ left after the beating of the tree (Isa. xvii. 6), and excite a longing for more which cannot be gratified. We may be sure that in Israel’s prime the telling of proverbs was almost as popular as the recital of stories, and became a test of ability. For—
and though Sirach says of the labouring class, ‘They shall not be found where parables are spoken’ (Ecclus. xxxviii. 33), it is reasonable to account for this by the aristocratic pride of the students of Scripture in the later Jewish community. At any rate, as I have said already, some at least of the early literary proverbs are very possibly based on popular sayings; these would naturally embody a plain, bourgeois experience such as marks not a few of the proverbs in our book. Dr. Oort conjectures[156] that some of our proverbs were originally current among the people as riddles, such for instance as, ‘What is sweet as honey?—Pleasant discourse, for it is sweet to the soul and a medicine to the bones’ (xvi. 24); ‘What is worse than meeting a bear?—Meeting a fool in a fit of folly’ (xvii. 12); ‘What is sweet at first, and then like sand in the mouth?—Stolen food’ (xx. 17). Certainly the introduction to the ‘proverbs of Solomon’ may seem to imply (i. 6) that the collection which follows contains specimens of the riddle, but probably all the writer means is that the ‘words of the wise’ are often ‘knotty’ because epigrammatic. We may indeed reasonably hold that, like their prototype Solomon,[157] the ‘wise men’ were accustomed to sharpen their intellects upon enigmas (such as lie at the root of the so-called ‘numerical proverbs’ in xxx. 15, 18, 21, 24, 29; comp. vi. 16); but a still more important discipline than the battle of wits was the habit of keen observation. We cannot reduce all the proverbs involving comparison to the form of riddles, any more than we can do this with the following Buddhist sayings, equal to the more refined specimens of the Hebrew proverb:?—[158]
As rain breaks through an ill-thatched house, so passion will break through an unreflecting mind.
Like a beautiful flower, full of colour, but without scent, are the fine but fruitless words of him who does not act accordingly.
A tamed elephant they lead to battle; the king mounts a tamed elephant; the tamed is the best among men, he who silently endures abuse.
Well-makers lead the water; fletchers bend the arrow; carpenters bend a log of wood; wise people fashion themselves.
Another plausible hypothesis similar to that of Dr. Oort is that some of our proverbs are based on popular fables, as is the case according to Dr. Back with many of the proverbs in the Talmud and Midrash.[159] The Jewish scholar referred to applies this key to Prov. vi. 6-11 (comp. the Aramaic fable of the ant and the grasshopper—see Delitzsch’s note), to the numerical proverbs in chap. xxx. (‘skeletons of fables’ he calls them), and to Eccles. ix. 4 and x. 11. Both proverbs and fables indeed are common in later Jewish literature. Fables, especially animal fables, were not perhaps appropriate vehicles of moral instruction according to the O.T. writers. But the later Jewish teachers do not seem to have felt this objection. Rabbi Meir (2nd cent. A.D.) was the writer of animal fables par excellence; Rabbi Hillel (B.C. 30), however, so noted for his versatility, was also a copious fabulist.[160]
This popular origin of some at least of the proverbs sufficiently accounts for their comparatively trite and commonplace character. They were not trite and commonplace to those who first used them, and successive generations loved them because of their antiquity (Job viii. 8-10). Even to us they are not so commonplace as the far less popular and piquant Egyptian proverbs,[161] though I confess that they will hardly compare with the relics of Indian gnomology,[162] still less with the singularly rich and pointed proverbs of the Chinese.[163] The practice of writing antithetic sentences on paper or silk to suspend in houses (contrast Deut. vi. 9) gave an edge to the shrewd earthly wisdom of the countrymen of Confucius. The Jewish intellect developed but slowly into the acuteness of the later periods which produced fables, proverbs, and riddles which can safely challenge comparison.[164]
Upon entering what Dante in the De Monarchiâ so well calls ‘the forest’ of the canonical proverbs, we are soon struck by differences of age and growth. The central portion of the book, and in some respects the most interesting, is comprised in x. 1-xxii. 16. To this, which is indeed the original Book of Proverbs, the first nine chapters were intended to serve as the introduction. It is the oldest Hebrew proverbial anthology extant. Probably from its compiler it received the name ‘Proverbs of Solomon,’ and from this title has sprung the tradition accepted by so many subsequent ages and indeed by the editor of the whole book (Prov. i. 1) of Solomon’s authorship of the Proverbs. The title however cannot be historically correct. Those maxims in this anthology which refer to the true God under the name Jehovah (Yahvè) are too monotheistic and inculcate too pure a morality to be the work of the Solomon of the Book of Kings. That great despot’s ‘wisdom,’ so far as we can judge both from his character and from the traditional notices, cannot have had a distinctively religious character. Listen to these proverbs,—
and for a commentary read 1 Kings iv. 26, xi. 1, 4, 14-40, xii. 14, 15. Nor is the moral tone of the ‘Solomonic’ proverbs in its plain bourgeois simplicity any more suitable to the name they bear than the religious. Unless Solomon was like Haroun al-Rashid, and made himself privately acquainted with the ways and thoughts of the citizens, it is difficult to see how he can have written so completely as one of them would have done.
The truth is that both David and Solomon were idealised by later generations. The heroes of a grander if not better age, they towered far above the petty figures of their successors. Favoured by the contemporary depression of Egypt and Assyria, they had been enabled to rear and to retain a powerful empire, comparable to those which afflicted and oppressed the divided people of the later Israelites. Solomon in particular is represented in tradition as not only the most fortunate but the wisest of kings, not in the sense in which it is said that religion is the best part of wisdom (Prov. i. 7), but in that in which the ‘children of the east’ were accustomed to use the word. This is clear from the language of the Hebrew narrator:—
‘And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart even as the sand on the sea-shore. And Solomon’s wisdom excelled the wisdom of all the children of the east country, and all the wisdom of Egypt. For he was wiser than all men; than Ethan the Ezrahite [read, perhaps, ‘the native,’ i.e. the Israelite], and Heman, and Calcol, and Darda, the sons of Mahol [probably a foreigner]: and his fame was in all the nations round about. And he spoke three thousand proverbs [or, similitudes], and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spoke of trees, from the cedar in Lebanon unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spoke also of beasts, and of birds, and of creeping things, and of fishes. And there came of all peoples to hear the wisdom of Solomon, from all kings of the earth, who had heard of his wisdom.’ (1 Kings iv. 29-34.)
I see no reason for not accepting the substance of this tradition. The principal point in it is the ascription to Solomon of a power of apophthegmatic composition which the author, as a devout theist, could not but trace to a divine gift, just as the author of Ex. xxxvi. ascribes the skill of the artisans of the tabernacle to the direct operation of Jehovah. But we are also informed that the talents of Solomon were neither peculiar to him, nor exercised on different subjects from those of foreign sages. The precise meaning of the Hebrew m’shālīm in 1 Kings iv. 32 is suggested by ver. 33. The word seems to mean moralising similitudes[165] derived partly from the animal, partly from the vegetable kingdom (for Lord Bacon’s view,[166] hinted in the New Atlantis, is more plausible than sound). Was I not right in saying that the traditional notices of Solomon’s wisdom do not agree with the title of our anthology? I wish that it were otherwise. How gladly one would see a few of Solomon’s genuine utterances (whether proverbs, or similitudes, or fables) incorporated into one or another of the Hebrew Scriptures!
I think however that it is unfair both to the compiler and to the editor who repeats his statement (i. 1) to take the ascription of these proverbs to Solomon literally. Accuracy in the details of literary history was not a qualification which would seem important to an Israelite. The name of Solomon was attached (for dogmatism here seems permissible) to these choice specimens of Hebrew proverbiology simply from a very characteristic hero-worship. Solomon had in fact become the symbol of plain ethical ‘wisdom’ just as David had become the representative of religious lyric poetry. We may see this from the alternative title of the Book of Proverbs in both Jewish and Christian writings—‘Book of Wisdom;’[167] still more from the fiction of Solomon’s authorship of Ecclesiastes, and from the Targumic paraphrase of Jer. ix. 23, ‘Let not Solomon the son of David, the wise man, glory in his wisdom.’ Of course, the real names of the authors of the proverbs had been as irrecoverably lost as those of our early ballad-writers.
But though we must deny the Solomonic authorship a far-off influence of the Solomonic age may perhaps be admitted; at least, there are grounds for the opinion that some of the proverbs are as old as the ninth century. (1) The second collection of so-called Solomonic proverbs was compiled according to a credible tradition (xxv. 1) in the reign of Hezekiah; this of itself throws the earlier collection a considerable way back into the eighth century. (2) Upon examining the first anthology we find that some of the proverbs already have a history. For instance, (a) the solemn generalisation in xiv. 12 occurs in exactly the same form in xvi. 25, (b) eight other proverbs are repeated with slight changes in expression (x. 1 = xv. 20, x. 2 = xi. 4, xiii. 14 = xiv. 27, xiv. 20 = xix. 4, xvi. 2 = xxi. 2, xix, 5 = xix. 9, xx. 10 = xx. 23, xxi. 9 = xxi. 19), but except in the case of xi. 4, xiv. 27 no change in thought, (c) ten are repeated, at least so far as one line goes, either exactly or with but slight differences (x. 15 = xviii. 11, x. 6[168] = x. 11, x. 8 = x. 10,[169] xv. 33 = xviii. 12, xi. 13 = xx. 19, xi, 21 = xvi. 5, xii. 14 = xiii. 2, xiv. 31 = xvii. 5, xvi. 18 = xviii. 12, xix. 12 = xx. 2). It is probable that some time would elapse before a proverb attained such notoriety as to be circulated in varying forms. (3) The originality of the diction (a) and the careful observance of technical rules of composition (b) favour an early date. (a) For instance, ‘steersmanship’[170] (xi. 14, xii. 5, xx. 18), as a term for practical wisdom or counsels, evidently springs from a fresh enthusiasm for commerce; a long list of striking expressions might be added from any chapter of the collection. (b) Nor is technical precision at all less conspicuous in this early anthology. Each proverb is a distich, i.e. consists of two lines, as a rule three-toned, and in most cases antithetically parallel. It is true, xix. 7 in its present form is a tristich, i.e. consists of three members, but this proverb undoubtedly arose out of two, the second of which is mutilated in the Hebrew text, but is found in a complete though not entirely correct form in the Septuagint. The incomprehensible third line of xix. 7 given in versions based upon the Hebrew now becomes the distich,
According to Ewald, the collection is divided into five parts by the recurrence at intervals of a proverb exhorting the young to receive instruction; see x. 1, xiii. 1, xv. 20, xvii. 25, xix. 20. If this division is intentional it may be compared with the equally mechanical triple division found by some in Isa. xl. lxvi. Of arrangement by subject there is but little trace; here and there two or more verses come in succession dealing with the same theme. Observe too the recurrence of ‘Jehovah,’ xv. 33, xvi. 1-9, 11, and of the word ‘king’ in xvi. 10, 12-15, which shows that one principle of arrangement was simply the recurrence of certain catchwords. Bickell thinks that another principle was the occurrence of the same initial letter (see xi. 9-12, xx. 7-9, xx. 24-26, xxii. 2-4).
Altogether, it is abundantly clear that we have before us works of art, and not the simple maxims handed down in Israel from father to son. There may sometimes be a traditional basis, but no more. The anthology contrasts, therefore, as Ewald remarks, with the collections of Arabic proverbs due to Abu-Obaida, Maidani[172] and others. But whether we may go on to assert with the same great critic that we have here the wise men’s applications of the truths of religion to the infinite cases and contingencies of the secular life, seems doubtful. It is not clear to me that these wise men were preoccupied by religion. There are indeed not a few fine religious proverbs, but it cannot be shown that those who wrote the secular proverbs also wrote the religious. It is possible and even probable that some of the religious proverbs are the work of the author of the introductory chapters; without dogmatising, I may refer to xiv. 34 (comp. viii. 15, 16), xv. 33, xvi. 1-7, and perhaps to xix. 27, which is quite in the parental tone of chaps. i.-ix. The tone of the secular proverbs is not, from a Christian point of view (of which more later on), an elevated one. The ethical principle is prudential. Virtue or ‘wisdom’ is rewarded, and vice or ‘folly’ punished in this life. It is indeed nowhere expressly said that every trouble is a punishment; but there is nothing like xxiv. 16 in this anthology to prevent the reader from inferring it. At any rate, the writers are clearly not in the van of religious thought: no ‘obstinate questionings’ have yet disturbed their tranquillity.
We need not pause here to demonstrate what no one probably will dispute, that the origin of this first anthology is impersonal. The fact that it is so may well give us the more confidence in the accuracy of the social picture which it contains. This is certainly a pleasing one, and points to a comparatively early period in the history of Judah. Commerce and its attendant luxury have not made such progress as at the time when the introduction was written; poverty is only too well known, but there seems to be a middle class with a sound moral sense, to which the writers of proverbs can appeal. It is true, says one of these, that in daily life ‘rich and poor meet together,’ but for all that ‘Jehovah is the maker of them all’ (xxii. 2), and ‘he that oppresses the poor reproaches his maker’ (xiv. 31). And if it is true on the one hand that ‘the poor is hated even of his neighbour’ (xiv. 20), and that ‘the destruction of the wretched is their poverty’ (x. 15), it is equally so on the other that ‘he that trusts in his riches shall fall’ (xi. 28), and that
The strength of the land still consists in the number of small proprietors tilling their own ground. Two proverbs express an interest in these, e.g.
All the farmers however were not so diligent as those indicated in these passages. One of the numerous proverbs against laziness (then as now a prevalent vice in this part of the East[175]) brings before us a land-owner who is too lazy to give the order for ploughing at the right time, and so when he looks for the harvest, there is none.
The right use of the gift of speech is another very favourite subject in this anthology. The charm of suitable words is best described in a Hezekian proverb (xxv. 11), but it is well said in xv. 4 that ‘a gentle tongue is a tree of life,’ and elsewhere that
The wonderful power of language could hardly at that age have been better expressed than by the saying,
The standard of family morals is high; a good wife is described as God’s best gift (xii. 4, xviii. 22, xix. 14), and the restraints of home are commended to the young (xix. 18, xxii. 6, 15), as in the Egyptian proverbs. Monogamy is throughout presupposed, and a want of respect for either parent is condemned (xiii. 1, xv. 5, xix. 26). The king too is repeatedly held up to reverence (xiv. 35, xvi. 10, 12-15, xix. 12, xx. 2, 8, 26, 28, xxii. 11); it is not so in the Hezekian collection. The king however is not identified with the Deity, as in Egypt; we are told that the will of the monarch is pliable in the hand of Jehovah (xxi. 1), and the true glory of a nation is, not in the prowess of its king, but in righteousness (xiv. 34). And even if we must confess that the spirit of the more secular proverbs is utilitarian, the utilitarianism is sometimes a very refined one, as for instance where the refreshing character of a quiet, contented mind is contrasted with the dull reaction which follows on an outburst of passion (xiv. 30). In conclusion, I will quote a few proverbs interesting chiefly as characteristic of their age, and then a few more of the gems of the collection.
The first appendix to the original Book (appended possibly before the composition of the Introduction) is a small collection of proverbial sayings called ‘words of the wise’ (xxii. 17-xxiv. 22). Virtually the same phrase occurs again in xxiv. 23 at the head of a still shorter work, compiled or composed evidently about the same time by another ‘wise man’ (perhaps the whole work has not come down to us). In the introductory verses the compiler’s object in writing down these proverbs is said to have been that his disciple might learn virtue and religion, and might become qualified to teach others. There is one very difficult passage in it, but this has been corrected in a masterly way by Bickell:—[178]