best thing which earth affords. That serene enjoyment which is the portion only of the good, is to be preferred above all those accumulations which the wicked may possess, and which men are tempted to do wickedly in order to obtain.

The fourth section, viii. 16-xii. 14, is, as has been before said, supplementary to the preceding. It does not re-open the argument, which is not finished, but is occupied with the removal of discouragements and the enforcing of practical lessons. We have, as in former cases, three divisions and a conclusion. The remaining mystery of this subject need be no obstacle to human joy, viii. 16-ix. 9, nor to the most strenuous activity, ix. 10-xi. 6, while in both their joy and their activity men should be mindful of death and judgment, xi. 7-xii. 8. The conclusion follows, xii. 9-14.

After all that can be said toward their explanation, there are yet, viii. 17, insolvable mysteries in divine providence. No one can tell, ix. 1, by God's treatment of particular individuals, whether they are objects of his love or hatred, ver. 2, the good and the bad appear to fare alike, ver. 3-6, the existence of sin and death involve the most perplexing mysteries. But this, ver. 7-9, should prevent no one from enjoying life with a constant sense of the divine favour.

Nor is it any obstacle to the most energetic action, ver. 10, but the reverse. When it is said that "there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither thou goest," it is manifest that this is no denial of a future state of intelligent activity, any more than ver. 5, 6, where the meaning is more fully explained by saying that the dead "have no more a portion for ever in anything that is done under the sun," i. e., in this world. Men should labour with their might. It is true, ver. 11-12, that the results attained do not always correspond with what might be expected from the means employed. And yet on the whole and as a general rule, ix. 13– x. 20, wisdom is advantageous and folly is ruinous. And, xi. 1-6, this general certainty, even though no positive assurance of a successful result can be attained in each individual case, is a sufficient warrant and incitement to vigorous exertion.

The advantages of wise action are first illustrated, ix. 1316, by the case of a city delivered by a poor wise man from the siege of a powerful king. The same thought is then exhibited in a series of apophthegms to the close of chap. x. This passage, it will be perceived, is directed to precisely the same point with the entire book of Proverbs. And it is observable to what an extent the style of the two books is here identical, possessing the same terse brevity and the same lack of connection between the individual sentences, while all conspire to teach the same general truth. The attempt to force a more

intimate connection upon this passage than the writer designed or than its nature will allow, has resulted in the strangest misinterpretations. Thus because rulers are referred to, ver. 47, and again, ver. 16, 17, and ver. 20, it has been quite common for interpreters to insist upon explaining all the intermediate verses in reference to the same subject. So ver. 8-10 are made to teach the evils resulting from premature or ill-concerted attempts to throw off the yoke of bad government; and ver. 18, the injury arising to the edifice of the state from negligent rulers, whose revels and avarice are supposed to be described, ver. 19. Upon the wretched government, under which it is thus (with the help of viii. 2-5, perverted to precisely its opposite sense, and ver. 17 being pronounced spurious, as inconsistent with the context) made out that the author must have lived, is based the conclusion that this could not have been written by Solomon. Our answer to which is, that the argumentation has about as much connection with the text as Geier's notion that the times spoken of, iii. 2-8, are the seven periods of the church militant.

The propriety and even necessity of acting upon a general presumption, without demanding particular certainties, is variously illustrated, xi. 1-6. Even where there seems so little antecedent likelihood of return, as in casting bread upon the waters, it should be done in the hope of finding it after many days. The possibility of some time needing their assistance, is a reason for making friends everywhere by benevolent action. When the clouds are full, they empty themselves upon the earth, it may be sometimes uselessly on the rock or on barren land, yet on the whole the benefit is immense. So a tree may fall this way or that, on one man's land or another's, but it will be likely in any case to do somebody good. If a man were to insist on certainties, or even on having always the most favourable conditions prior to his acting, he would never do thing. "He that observeth the wind, shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap." As, therefore, we neither understand God's natural, nor his providential operations, the only proper course is to be diligent in right action; some of it will succeed, even if all does not.

any

After placing death and the coming judgment before its readers as a solemn fact which should never be lost sight of amid their pleasures, and which should influence all their conduct, the book is brought to a formal close. The conclusion of the entire discussion is stated to be: Fear God and keep his commandments; for this is the whole welfare of man; for God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.

ART. IV.—Character and Literary Influence of Erasmus.

We do not now remember to have met with the suggestion any where, but it has frequently occurred to us, that, of all the ancients who have become historic, Cicero was best prepared to be at home in modern civilization. Such was the breadth of his culture, and such the cosmopolitan catholicity of his appreciation, that, to our fancy, it involves but little incongruity to think of the polite and philosophic Roman re-nascent, as a fully naturalised citizen of our times. We do not imagine it would occasion more than perhaps a slight involuntary start, to step out, shortly after reading some of his epistles, and recognise the writer, redivivus with the air and habit of a thorough-bred "modern gentleman of stateliest port," quietly purchasing a ticket at a railway station, or despatching a message by Morse's Telegraph; and we seriously insist the anachronism would not seem so very flagrant, to light upon a paragraph in the papers some morning, announcing that "Hon. M. T. Cicero had already signified his willingness, and might therefore be expected, to address his fellow-citizens, at such or such a time and place, on the great questions now pending before the country!"

A certain similar facility of accommodation to different states of society, belonged, we conceive, to the character of Erasmus. We do not, however, derive it from a similar origin, In the case of the Roman, our impression arises from that large-minded power of anticipating future forms of civilization. yet more nobly endowed, which we naturally attribute to him, by inference from the generous though eclectic sympathy we know he did extend to all the varieties with which he was acquainted. In the case of the Dutchman, on the other hand, we simply feel that there is no reason why this man should be unfit for any order of things. His capacity of versatile adaptation does not seem to us positive, like Cicero's, but negative ---rather without repulsions than, like the other's, instinct with attractions. We do not see in him, as in Tully, any of that rare mental compass which, embracing all countries and ages in its equal regard, suggests at once the unity of our race, and our immortality, and marks out its possessor as intended "not for a day, but for all time;" nor is there any breathing of the child-like curiosity and wise docility proper to comprehensive genius. We discern barely a miraculous absence of qualities having a specific adaptation. We are quite sure he had no illtimed idiosyncrasies, that would be prompting him to aim at conforming the world to any romantic ideal standard of his

own.

He bowed reverentially to authority. If he ever did

anything contumaciously, it was when he believed what the church believed. We judge that he would make no difficulty, wherever placed. He would not wage war with existing institutions unless indeed it chanced to be the fashion; and then if he could not restrain his shafts of wit, he would at least take care to let them fly, after the manner of a fire-wheel in pyrotechnics, as nearly as possible in the direction of every radius successively in the whole circumference, so that all parties might fare alike. He would keep a well-behaved and gentlemanly conscience. He would have constitutional objections to having constitutional objections to anything. Under a monarchy he would be a loyal subject, in a republic a law-abiding citizen, in a revolution an adherent of all parties and of none. In short, superadding to so goodly an assemblage of negative qualifications, a nice instinct for his cue, such a man would be at his ease indifferently, in any social, political, or ecclesiastical order whatever.

At a very small expense of ingenuity, we could assign him several exceedingly suitable niches in the temple of history. For instance, had he been permitted a spontaneous birth in patriarchal times, he would infallibly have been Jacob; and not Jacob himself wore the kid-skins to receive the blessing of his father, with a more natural grace and a more appreciative humor, than Erasmus would have displayed in his place. The circumspect Gamaliel, it is safe to assume, did not exceed the pious gravity with which Erasmus would have pronounced his conservative advice to let the doctrine of the Nazarene alone. There is enough of truth in Coleridge's suggestion of a parallel between Erasmus and Voltaire, as to their method of attack, to render it not improbable that, in the eighteenth century and in France, Erasmus might have enlisted in the same service with Voltaire, wielding with even a better instructed skill, the glittering fence of the Frenchman's infidel raillery. Could we be certified that he had been enjoying a resurrection within the last hundred years, we should every now and then surprise ourselves imagining him turning off from Macaulay's pen, "dazzling, but cold," clever avoidances of positive expressions on the most universally cherished verities of our holy religion, in places where it would be impossible for any one else to withhold a frank and hearty declaration of opinion. Still more naturally, perhaps, he would have found his way into Sydney Smith's parish, preaching worldly wisdom and a humane morality on Sunday, and alternately cracking jokes and feeding his flock with physic for the cure of their souls during the week.

Such, in outline, appears to us to have been the character of the man, Erasmus of Rotterdam. The character of the 3 1

VOL. VII. NO. XXVI.

scholar Erasmus will not be separated in discussion from his literary influence-which we reserve for consideration toward the close of the article. We proceed to verify and illustrate the views already stated.

It may be proper to premise that our information respecting Erasmus is principally derived from his own testimony. This testimony survives in the form of a voluminous correspondence, which, after making suitable allowance for its lack of genuine epistolary negligé, and confidential privacies, may yet fairly be taken as affording, upon the whole, a tolerably trustworthy exponent of the writer's character. It is to our purpose at any rate, to remark, that such testimony will not be liable to the accusation of designed hostility. As serving to show what a singular diversity of country, of character, of social and civil position, and of ecclesiastical opinion, was represented in this correspondence, we may mention that it comprises letters addressed to the Pope, to the Emperor, to Henry VIII. of England, to Cardinal Wolsey, to Sir Thomas More, to Colet, to Zwingle, to Luther, to Hutten, to Melancthon.

If the remark that Erasmus was by nature equally adapted to every situation requires to be limited at all, the reader of his letters will be tempted to claim the exception in behalf of that particular situation in which it happened to him to be actually placed. But this exception, we apprehend, is rather apparent than real. He may appear at times unsuited to his circumstances, but it is because we unconsciously misplace him in thought. The fact is, his life was cast in a period of most unwonted transition and flux. This period had been preceded by a comparatively permanent posture of things under the still unchallenged supremacy of Rome. Another posture of things, less stable it is true, yet having a certain character of permanency, emerged from it, commencing the era of a partially successful, because partial, Protestantism. Now our liability is unawares to project Erasmus upon the former, or else to draw him forward upon the ground of the latter. In either case he appears unsuited to his circumstances. But if we are careful to view him in proper connection with the universal fluctuation of the times, it will puzzle us to tell how his own part could have been in any respect more exquisitely harmonized.

We are far enough from meaning that Erasmus displayed any portion either of that instinct by which a man comprehends his occasions, or of that buoyancy by which he rises to their mastery. These both are exclusive credentials of a style of greatness clearly above the mark of Erasmus. Indeed no one can glance in the most cursory manner over his letters, and avoid the conviction that he was, to say the least, sadly