_ABSALOM'S REVOLT._
2 SAMUEL xv. 1-12.
When Absalom obtained from his father the position he had so eagerly
desired at Jerusalem, he did not allow the grass to grow under his
feet. The terms on which he was now with the king evidently gave him a
command of money to a very ample degree. By this means he was able to
set up an equipage such as had not previously been seen at Jerusalem.
"He prepared him a chariot and horses, and fifty men to run before
him." To multiply horses to himself was one of the things forbidden by
the law of Moses to the king that should be chosen (Deut. xvii. 16),
mainly, we suppose, because it was a prominent feature of the royal
state of the kings of Egypt, and because it would have indicated a
tendency to place the glory of the kingdom in magnificent surroundings
rather than in the protection and blessing of the heavenly King. The
style of David's living appears to have been quiet and unpretending,
notwithstanding the vast treasures he had amassed; for the love of
pomp or display was none of his failings. Anything in the shape of
elaborate arrangement that he devised seems to have been in connection
with the public service of God--for instance, his choir of singers and
players (1 Chron. xxiii. 5); his own personal tastes appear to have
been simple and inexpensive. And this style undoubtedly befitted a
royalty which rested on a basis so peculiar as that of the nation of
Israel, when the king, though he used that title, was only the viceroy
of the true King of the nation, and where it was the will of God
that a different spirit should prevail from that prevalent among the
surrounding nations. A modest establishment was evidently suited to one
who recognised his true position as a subordinate lieutenant, not an
absolute ruler.
But Absalom's tastes were widely different, and he was not the man
to be restrained from gratifying them by any considerations of that
sort. The moment he had the power, though he was not even king,
he set up his imposing equipage, and became the observed of all
observers in Jerusalem. And no doubt there were many of the people
who sympathised with him, and regarded it as right and proper that,
now that Israel was so renowned and prosperous a kingdom, its court
should shine forth in corresponding splendour. The plain equipage of
David would seem to them paltry and unimposing, in no way fitted to
gratify the pride or elevate the dignity of the kingdom. Absalom's,
on the other hand, would seem to supply all that David's wanted. The
prancing steeds, with their gay caparisons, the troop of outrunners
in glittering uniform, the handsome face and figure of the prince,
would create a sensation wherever he went; There, men would say
emphatically, is the proper state and bearing of a king; had we such
a monarch as that, surrounding nations would everywhere acknowledge
our superiority, and feel that we were entitled to the first place
among the kingdoms of the East.
But Absalom was far too shrewd a man to base his popularity merely
on outward show. For the daring game which he was about to play it
was necessary to have much firmer support than that. He understood
the remarkable power of personal interest and sympathy in winning the
hearts of men, and drawing them to one's side. He rose up early, and
stood beside the way of the gate, where in Eastern cities judgment
was usually administered, but where, for some unknown reason, little
seems to have been done by the king or the king's servants at that
time. To all who came to the gate he addressed himself with winsome
affability, and to those who had "a suit that should come to the
king for judgment" (R.V.) he was especially encouraging. Well did he
know that when a man has a lawsuit it usually engrosses his whole
attention, and that he is very impatient of delays and hindrances
in the way of his case. Very adroitly did he take advantage of this
feeling,--sympathising with the litigant, agreeing with him of course
that he had right on his side, but much concerned that there was no
one appointed of the king to attend to his business, and devoutly and
fervently wishing that he were made judge in the land, that every
one that had any suit or cause might come to him, and he would do
him justice. And with regard to others, when they came to do him
homage he seemed unwilling to recognise this token of superiority,
but, as if they were just brothers, he put forth his hand, took hold
of them, and kissed them. If it were not for what we know now of the
hollowness of it, this would be a pretty picture--an ear so ready to
listen to the tale of wrong, a heart so full of sympathy, an active
temperament that in the early hours of the morning sent him forth
to meet the people and exchange kindly greetings with them; a form
and figure that graced the finest procession; a manner that could be
alike dignified when dignity was becoming, and humility itself when
it was right to be humble. But alas for the hollow-heartedness of the
picture! It is like the fabled apples of Sodom, outside all fair and
attractive, but dust within.
But hollow though it was, the policy succeeded--he became exceedingly
popular; he secured the affections of the people. It is a remarkable
expression that is used to denote this result--"He stole the hearts
of the men of Israel." It was not an honest transaction. It was
swindling in high life. He was appropriating valuable property on
false pretences. To constitute a man a thief or a swindler it is not
necessary that he forge a rich man's name, or that he put his hand
into the pocket of his neighbour. To gain a heart by hypocritical
means, to secure the confidence of another by lying promises, is
equally low and wicked; nay, in God's sight is a greater crime. It
may be that man's law has difficulty in reaching it, and in many
cases cannot reach it at all. But it cannot be supposed that those
who are guilty of it will in the end escape God's righteous judgment.
And if the punishments of the future life are fitted to indicate
the due character of the sins for which they are sent, we can think
of nothing more appropriate than that those who have stolen hearts
in this way, high in this world's rank though they have often been,
should be made to rank with the thieves and thimbleriggers and
other knaves who are the _habitués_ of our prisons, and are scorned
universally as the meanest of mankind. With all his fine face and
figure and manner, his chariot and horses, his outrunners and other
attendants, Absalom after all was but a black-hearted thief.
All this crooked and cunning policy of his Absalom carried on with
unwearied vigour till his plot was ripe. There is reason to apprehend
an error of some kind in the text when it is said (ver. 7) that it was
"at the end of forty years" that Absalom struck the final blow. The
reading of some manuscripts is more likely to be correct,--"at the end
of four years," that is, four years after he was allowed to assume the
position of prince. During that space of time much might be quietly
done by one who had such an advantage of manner, and was so resolutely
devoted to his work. For he seems to have laboured at his task without
interruption all that time. The dissembling which he had to practise,
to impress the people with the idea of his kindly interest in them,
must have required a very considerable strain. But he was sustained
in it by the belief that in the end he would succeed, and success was
worth an infinity of labour. What a power of persistence is often
shown by the children of this world, and how much wiser are they in
their generation than the children of light as to the means that will
achieve their ends! With what wonderful application and perseverance
do many men labour to build up a business, to accumulate a fortune, to
gain a distinction! I have heard of a young man who, being informed
that an advertisement had appeared in a newspaper to the effect that
if his family would apply to some one they would hear of something to
their advantage, set himself to discover that advertisement, went over
the advertisements for several years, column by column, first of one
paper, then of another and another, till he became so absorbed in the
task that he lost first his reason and then his life. Thank God, there
are instances not a few of very noble application and perseverance in
the spiritual field; but is it not true that the mass even of good men
are sadly remiss in the efforts they make for spiritual ends? Does not
the energy of the racer who ran for the corruptible crown often put
to shame the languor of those who seek for an incorruptible? And does
not the manifold secular activity of which we see so much in the world
around us sound a loud summons in the ears of all who are at ease in
Zion--"Now it is high time to awake out of sleep"?
The copestone which Absalom put on his plot when all was ripe for
execution was of a piece with the whole undertaking. It was an act
of religious hypocrisy amounting to profanity. It shows how well he
must have succeeded in deceiving his father when he could venture
on such a finishing stroke. Hypocrite though he was himself, he
well knew the depth and sincerity of his father's religion. He knew
too that nothing could gratify him more than to find in his son the
evidence of a similar state of heart. It is difficult to comprehend
the villainy that could frame such a statement as this:--"I pray
thee, let me go and pay my vow, which I have vowed unto the Lord,
in Hebron. For thy servant vowed a vow, while I abode at Geshur in
Syria, saying, If the Lord shall indeed bring me again to Jerusalem,
then I will serve" (marg. R.V., worship) "the Lord." We have already
remarked that it is not very clear from this whether up to this time
Absalom had been a worshipper of the God of Israel. The purport of
his pretended vow (that is, what he wished his father to believe)
must have been either that, renouncing the idolatry of Geshur, he
would now become a worshipper of Israel's God, or (what seems more
likely) that in token of his purpose for the future he would present
a special offering to the God of Israel. This vow he now wished to
redeem by making his offerings to the Lord, and for this purpose he
desired to go to Hebron. But why go to Hebron? Might he not have
redeemed it at Jerusalem? It was the custom, however, when a vow was
taken, to specify the place where it was to be fulfilled, and in
this instance Hebron was alleged to be the place. But what are we
to think of the effrontery and wickedness of this pretence? To drag
sacred things into a scheme of villainy, to pretend to have a desire
to do honour to God simply for the purpose of carrying out deception
and gaining a worldly end, is a frightful prostitution of all that
ought to be held most sacred. It seems to indicate one who had no
belief in God or in anything holy, to whom truth and falsehood, right
and wrong, honour and shame, were all essentially alike, although,
when it suited him, he might pretend to have a profound regard to
the honour of God and a cordial purpose to render that honour. We
are reminded of Charles II. taking the Covenant to please the Scots,
and get their help towards obtaining the crown. But indeed the same
great sin is involved in every act of religious hypocrisy, in every
instance in which pretended reverence is paid to God in order to
secure a selfish end.
The place was cunningly selected. It enjoyed a sanctity which had
been gathering round it for centuries; whereas Jerusalem, as the
capital of the nation, was but of yesterday. Hebron was the place
where David himself had begun his reign, and while it was far enough
from Jerusalem to allow Absalom to work unobserved by David, it was
near enough to allow him to carry out the schemes which had been set
on foot there. So little suspicion had the old king of what was
brewing that, when Absalom asked leave to go to Hebron, he dismissed
him with a blessing--"Go in peace."
What Joab was thinking of all this we have no means of knowing. That
a man who looked after his own interests so well as Joab did, should
have stuck to David when his fortunes appeared to be desperate, is
somewhat surprising. But the truth seems to be that Absalom never
felt very cordial towards Joab after his refusal to meet him on his
return from Geshur. It does not appear that Joab was much impressed
by regard to God's will in the matter of the succession; his being
engaged afterwards in the insurrection in favour of Adonijah when
Solomon was divinely marked out for the succession shows that he was
not. His adherence to David on this occasion was probably the result
of necessity rather than choice. But what are we to say of his want
of vigilance in allowing Absalom's conspiracy to advance as it did
either without suspecting its existence, or at least without making
provision for defending the king's cause? Either he was very blind
or he was very careless. As for the king himself, we have seen what
cause he had, after his great trespass, for courting solitude and
avoiding contact with the people. That he should be ignorant of all
that was going on need not surprise us. And moreover, from allusions
in some of the Psalms (xxxviii., xxxix., xli.) to a loathsome and
all but fatal illness of David's, and to treachery practised on him
when ill, some have supposed that this was the time chosen by Absalom
for consummating his plot. When Absalom said to the men applying
for justice, whom he met at the gate of the city, "There is no man
deputed of the king to hear thee," his words implied that there was
something hindering the king from being there in person, and for some
reason he had not appointed a deputy. A protracted illness, unfitting
David for his personal duties and for superintending the machinery
of government, might have furnished Absalom with the pretext for his
lamentation over this want. It gives us a harder impression of his
villainy and hardness of heart if he chose a time when his father was
enfeebled by disease to inflict a crushing blow on his government and
a crowning humiliation on himself.
Three other steps were taken by Absalom before bringing the revolt
to a crisis. First, he sent spies or secret emissaries to all
the tribes, calling them, on hearing the sound of a trumpet, to
acknowledge him as king at Hebron. Evidently he had all the talent
for administration that was so conspicuous in his nation and in his
house,--if only it had been put to a better use. Secondly, he took
with him to Hebron a band of two hundred men, of whom it is said
"they went in their simplicity, and they knew not anything"--so
admirably was the secret kept. Thirdly, Absalom sent for Ahithophel
the Gilonite, David's counsellor, from his city, having reason
to believe that Ahithophel was on his side, and knowing that his
counsel would be valuable to him in the present emergency. And every
arrangement seemed to succeed admirably. The tide ran strongly in
his favour--"the conspiracy was strong, for the people increased
continually with Absalom." Everything seemed to fall out precisely
as he wished; it looked as if the revolt would not only succeed, but
that it would succeed without serious opposition. Absalom must have
been full of expectation that in a few days or weeks he would be
reigning unopposed at Jerusalem.
This extraordinary success is difficult to understand. For what could
have made David so unpopular? In his earliest years he had been
singularly popular; his victories brought him unbounded _éclat_; and
when Ishbosheth died it was the remembrance of these early services
that disposed the people to call him to the throne. Since that time
he had increased his services in an eminent degree. He had freed
his country from all the surrounding tribes that were constantly
attacking it; he had conquered those distant but powerful enemies
the Syrians; and he had brought to the country a great accumulation
of wealth. Add to this that he was fond of music and a poet, and had
written many of the very finest of their sacred songs. Why should not
such a king be popular? The answer to this question will embrace a
variety of reasons. In the first place, a generation was growing up
who had not been alive at the time of his early services, and on whom
therefore they would make a very slender impression. For service done
to the public is very soon forgotten unless it be constantly repeated
in other forms, unless, in fact, there be a perpetual round of it.
So it is found by many a minister of the gospel. Though he may have
built up his congregation from the very beginning, ministered among
them with unceasing assiduity, and taken the lead in many important
and permanent undertakings, yet in a few years after he goes away all
is forgotten, and his very name comes to be unknown to many. In the
second place, David was turning old, and old men are prone to adhere
to their old ways; his government had become old-fashioned, and he
showed no longer the life and vigour of former days. A new, fresh,
lively administration was eagerly desired by the younger spirits
of the nation. Further, there can be no doubt that David's fervent
piety was disliked by many, and his puritan methods of governing
the kingdom. The spirit of the world is sure to be found in every
community, and it is always offended by the government of holy men.
Finally, his fall in the matter of Uriah had greatly impaired the
respect and affection even of the better part of the community. If
to all this there was added a period of feeble health, during which
many departments of government were neglected, we shall have, beyond
doubt, the principal grounds of the king's unpopularity. The ardent
lovers of godliness were no doubt a minority, and thus even David,
who had done so much for Israel, was ready to be sacrificed in the
time of old age.
But had he not something better to fall back on? Was he not promised
the protection and the aid of the Most High? Might he not cast
himself on Him who had been his refuge and his strength in every time
of need, and of whom he had sung so serenely that He is near to them
that call on Him in sincerity and in truth? Undoubtedly he might,
and undoubtedly he did. And the final result of Absalom's rebellion,
the wonderful way in which its back was broken and David rescued
and restored, showed that though cast down he was not forsaken. But
now, we must remember, the second element of the chastisement of
which Nathan testified, had come upon him. "Behold, I will raise up
evil against thee out of thine own house." That chastisement was now
falling, and while it lasted the joy and comfort of God's gracious
presence must have been interrupted. But all the same God was still
with him, even though He was carrying him through the valley of the
shadow of death. Like the Apostle Peter, he was brought to the very
verge of destruction; but at the critical moment an unseen hand was
stretched out to save him, and in after-years he was able to sing,
"He brought me up also out of a fearful pit, and out of the miry
clay; and He set my feet upon a rock and established my goings; and
He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God; many
shall see it and shall fear, and shall trust in the Lord."