No one in our day would dream of accepting these ‘Græcisms’ in a mass.
Zirkel tried to prove too much, as Grätz himself truly observes. Any peculiar word or construction he set down as un-Hebraic and hurried to explain it by some Greek parallel, ignoring the capacity of development inherent in the Hebrew language. His attempt failed in his own generation. Three recent scholars however (Grätz, Kleinert, and Tyler), have been more or less captivated by his idea, and have proposed some new and some old ‘Græcisms’ for the acceptance of scholars. To me it seems that, their three or four very disputable words and phrases are not enough. If the author of Koheleth really thought half in Greek, the Greek colouring of the language would surely not have been confined to such a few expressions. If מה־שהיה (vii. 24) were really derived from τὸ τί ἐστιν, as Kleinert supposes, should we not meet with it oftener? But the phrase most naturally means, not ‘the essence of things,’ but ‘that which hath come into existence;’ phenomena are not easily understood in their ultimate causes, is the simple meaning of the sentence. I have said nothing as yet of the supposed Græcism in the epilogue—the last place where we should have expected one (considering ver. 12). But Mr. Tyler’s proposal to explain הַכֹּל (xii, 13) by τὸ καθόλου or τὸ ὅλον (a formula introducing a general conclusion), falls to the ground, when the true explanation of the passage has been stated (see p. [232]).
There are therefore no Græcisms in the language of the book. Of course ideas may have been derived from a Greek source notwithstanding. The book, as we have seen already, is conspicuous by its want of a native Jewish background, nor does it show any affinity to Babylonian or Persian theology. It obviously stands at the close of the great Jewish humanistic movement, and gives an entirely new colour to the traditional humanism by its sceptical tone and its commendations of sensuous pleasure. It is not surprising that St. Jerome should remark on ix. 7-9, that the author appears to be reproducing the low ideas of some Greek philosophers, though, as this Father supposes, only to refute them.
‘Et hæc inquit, aliquis loquatur Epicurus, et Aristippus et Cyrenaici et cæteræ pecudes Philosophorum. Ego autem, mecum diligenter retractans, invenio’[[395]] &c.
Few besides Prof. Salmon would accept the view that Eccles. ix. 7-9 and similar passages are the utterances of an infidel objector (see Bishop Ellicott’s Commentary); but it is perfectly possible to hold that there are distinctively Epicurean doctrines in the Koheleth. The later history of Jewish thought may well seem to render this opinion probable. How dangerously fascinating Epicureanism must have been when the word ‘Epicuros’ became a synonym in Rabbinic Hebrew for infidel or even atheist.[[396]] It is indeed no mere fancy that just as Pharisaism had affinities with Stoicism, so Sadducæism had with Epicureanism. As Harnack well says, ‘No intellectual movement could withdraw itself from the influences which proceeded from the victory of the Greeks over the Eastern world.’[[397]] Mr. Tyler,[[398]] however, and his ally Dean Plumptre, have scarcely made the best of their case, the Epicurean affinities which they discover in Koheleth being by no means striking. Much use is made of the De Rerum Naturâ of Lucretius—a somewhat late authority! But if points of contact with Lucretius are to be hunted for, ought we not also to mention the discrepancies between the ‘wise man’ and the poet? If Lucr. i. 113-116 may be used to illustrate Eccles. iii. 21, must we not equally emphasise the difference between the festive mirth recommended by Koheleth (ix. 7, 8 &c.) and the simple pleasures so beautifully sung by Lucretius (ii. 20-33), and which remind us rather of the charming naturalness of the Hebrew Song of Songs?[[399]] The number of vague analogies between Koheleth and Epicureanism might perhaps have been even increased, but I can find no passage in the former which distinctly expresses any scholastic doctrine of Epicureanism. For instance the doctrine of Atomism assumed for illustration by Dean Plumptre,[[400]] cannot be found there by even the keenest exegesis; the plurality of worlds is not even distantly alluded to, and the denial of the spirit, if implied in iii, 21 (see p. [212]), is only implied in the primitive Hebrew sense, familiar to us from Job and the Psalter. The recommendation of ἀταραξία (to use the Epicurean term), coupled with sensuous pleasure (v. 18-20), requires no philosophic basis, and is simply the expression of a pococurante mood, only too natural in one debarred from a career of fruitful activity. Lastly, there is nothing in the phraseology either of the Hebrew or of the Septuagint to suggest an acquaintance with Epicureanism.
A stronger case can be made for the influence of Stoicism. The undoubted Oriental affinities of this system and its moral and theological spirit would, as Mr. Tyler observes, naturally commend it to a Jewish writer. We know that, at a somewhat later day, Stoicism exercised a strong fascination on some of the noblest Jewish minds. Philo,[[401]] the Book of Wisdom, and the so-called Fourth Book of Maccabees, have undeniable allusions to it; and more or less probable vestiges of Stoicism have been found in the oldest Jewish Sibyl[[402]] (about B.C. 140) and in the Targum of Onkelos.[[403]] But how does the case stand with Koheleth? First of all, are there any traces of Stoic terminology? That terminology varied no doubt within certain limits, and could not be accurately reproduced in Hebrew. Still even under the contorted forms of expression to which a Hebrew-writing Stoic or semi-Stoic might be driven we could hardly fail to recognise the familiar Stoic expressions, εἱμαρμένη, πρόνοια, φαντασία, φύσις, φρόνησις, ἀρετή. The Septuagint version ought to help us here. But among the twenty words almost or entirely peculiar to the Greek of Ecclesiastes, the only two technical philosophic terms are σοφία and γνῶσις.
Next, can we detect references to distinctive Stoic doctrines? Mr. Tyler lays great stress in his reply on the Catalogue of Times and Seasons (iii. 1-8), which he regards as an expansion of the Stoic ὁμολογουμένως ζῆν But the idea that there is an appointed order of things, and that every action has its place in it, is much more a corollary of the doctrine of Destiny than of the doctrine of Duty. The essence of the latter doctrine is that men were meant to conform and ought to conform to the Universal Order, acquiescing in that which is inevitable, shaping in the best way that which is possible to be moulded. Upon this the practical ethics of Stoicism depend. But this is the very point which is absent in Ecclesiastes. The Catalogue of Times and Seasons ends not with the Stoic exhortation ἐκπληροῦ τὴν χώραν, ‘Fulfil thy appointed part,’ but with the despondent reflection of the Fatalist, ‘What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he toileth?’ (iii. 9.) A second argument is that the idea ‘There is no new thing under the sun’ (i. 9) is a phase of the Stoic doctrine of cyclical revolutions. But all that which gave form and colour to the Stoic doctrine is entirely absent—especially, as Mr. Tyler himself admits, the idea of ἐκπύρωσις. The idea, as it is found in Ecclesiastes, has nothing Stoic or even philosophical about it. It is simply an old man’s observation that human actions, like natural phenomena, tend to repeat themselves in successive generations.[[404]]
That there are analogies between Stoicism and the ideas of Koheleth need not be denied; Dr. Kalisch has collected some of them in his very interesting philosophico-religious dialogue.[[405]] Prominent among these is the peculiar use of the terms ‘madness’ and ‘folly.’ ‘From the followers of Zeno,’ remarks Dean Plumptre,[[406]] ‘he learned also to look upon virtue and vice in their intellectual aspects. The common weaknesses and follies of mankind were to him, as to them, only so many different forms and degrees of absolute insanity (i. 17, ii. 12, vii. 25, ix. 3).’ But this division of mankind into wise men and fools is common to the Stoa with the ancient Hebrew sages who ‘sat in the gate.’ When the great populariser of Stoicism says, ‘Sapientia perfectum bonum est mentis humanæ,’[[407]] he almost translates more than one of the proverbs which we have studied already. Another point of contact with Stoicism is undoubtedly the Determinism of the book, which, as Prof. Kleinert observes, leaves no room for freedom of the will, and fuses the conceptions of εἱμαρμένη and πρόνοια (see especially chap. iii.). But such Determinism need not have been learned in the school of Zeno. It is genuinely Semitic (did not Zeno come from the Semitic Citium?) What is the religion of Islam but a grandiose system of Determinism? Indeed, where is virtual Determinism more forcibly expressed than in the Old Testament itself (e.g., Isa. lxiii. 17)?
Those who adopt the view which I am controverting are apt to appeal to somewhat late philosophic authorities. I cannot here discuss the parallelisms which have been found in the Meditations or Self-communings (Τὰ εἰς ἑαυτόν) of the great Stoic emperor. Some, for instance, consider the ῥύσεις καὶ ἀλλοιώσεις which ‘renew the world continually’ (M. A. vi. 15) and the περιοδικὴ παλιγγενεσία τῶν ὅλων (M. A. xi. 1) to be alluded to in Eccles. i. 5-9. More genuine are some at least of the other parallelisms, e.g. Eccles. i. 9, M. A. vi. 37, vii. 1, x. 27, xii. 26; Eccles. ii. 25, M. A. ii. 3 (ad init.); Eccles. iii. 11, M. A. iv. 23 (ad init.); Eccles. vi. 9, M. A. iv. 26; Eccles, xi. 5, M. A. x. 26. I admit that there is a certain vague affinity between the two thinkers; both are earnest, both despair of reforming society, both have left but a fragmentary record of their meditations. But the ‘humanest of the Roman race’[[408]] stands out, upon the whole, far above the less cultured and more severely tried Israelite. Alike in intellectual powers and in moral elevation the soul of the Roman is of a truly imperial order. He is not, like Koheleth, a ‘malist’ (see pp. [201]-202); he boldly denies evil, and his strong faith in Providence cannot be disturbed by apparent irregularities in the order of things. It is true that this does but make the sadness of his golden and almost Christian book the more depressing. But the book is ‘golden.’[[409]] Koheleth and M. Aurelius alike call forth our pity and admiration, but in what different proportions!
If, then, there are points of agreement between Koheleth and M. Aurelius, there must also of necessity be points of disagreement. Every page of their writings would, I think, supply them. Suffice it to put side by side the saying of Koheleth, ‘God is in heaven, and thou upon earth’ (v. 2), and M. Aurelius’ invocation of the world as the ‘city of God’ (iv. 23). The comparison suggests one of the greatest discrepancies between Koheleth and the Stoics—the doctrine of God. Such faith as the former still retains is faith in a transcendent and not an immanent Deity. The germs of a doctrine of Immanence which the older Wisdom-literature contains (Kleinert quotes Ps. civ. 30, Job xxvi. 13), have found no lodgment in the mind of our author, who is more affected by the legal and extreme supernaturalistic[[410]] point of view than he is perhaps aware.