When we turn to consider the spiritual significance of this ideal picture
of the history and character of Solomon, we are confronted by a difficulty
that attends the exposition of any ideal history. An author’s ideal of
kingship in the early stages of literature is usually as much one and
indivisible as his ideal of priesthood, of the office of the prophet, and
of the wicked king. His authorities may record different incidents in
connection with each individual; but he emphasises those which correspond
with his ideal, or even anticipates the higher criticism by constructing
incidents which seem required by the character and circumstances of his
heroes. On the other hand, where the priest, or the prophet, or the king
departs from the ideal, the incidents are minimised or passed over in
silence. There will still be a certain variety because different
individuals may present different elements of the ideal, and the
chronicler does not insist on each of his good kings possessing all the
characteristics of royal perfection. Still the tendency of the process is
to make all the good kings alike. It would be monotonous to take each of
them separately and deduce the lessons taught by their virtues, because
the chronicler’s intention is that they shall all teach the same lessons
by the same kind of behaviour described from the same point of view. David
has a unique position, and has to be taken by himself; but in considering
the features that must be added to the picture of David in order to
complete the picture of the good king, it is convenient to group Solomon
with the reforming kings of Judah. We shall therefore defer for more
consecutive treatment the chronicler’s account of their general characters
and careers. Here we shall merely gather up the suggestions of the
different narratives as to the chronicler’s ideal Hebrew king.
The leading points have already been indicated from the chronicler’s
history of David. The first and most indispensable feature is devotion to
the temple at Jerusalem and the ritual of the Pentateuch. This has been
abundantly illustrated from the account of Solomon. Taking the reforming
kings in their order:—
Asa removed the high places which were rivals of the Temple,(225) renewed
the altar of Jehovah, gathered the people together for a great
sacrifice,(226) and made munificent donations to the Temple treasury.(227)
Similarly Jehoshaphat took away the high places,(228) and sent out a
commission to teach the Law.(229)
Joash repaired the Temple(230); but, curiously enough, though Jehoram had
restored the high places(231) and Joash was acting under the direction of
the high-priest Jehoiada, it is not stated that the high places were done
away with. This is one of the chronicler’s rather numerous oversights.
Perhaps, however, he expected that so obvious a reform would be taken for
granted.
Amaziah was careful to observe “the law in the book of Moses” that “the
children should not die for the fathers,”(232) but Amaziah soon turned
away from following Jehovah. This is perhaps the reason why in his case
also nothing is said about doing away with the high places.
Hezekiah had a special opportunity of showing his devotion to the Temple
and the Law. The Temple had been polluted and closed by Ahaz, and its
services discontinued. Hezekiah purified the Temple, reinstated the
priests and Levites, and renewed the services; he made arrangements for
the payment of the Temple revenues according to the provisions of the
Levitical law, and took away the high places. He also held a reopening
festival and a passover with numerous sacrifices.(233)
Manasseh’s repentance is indicated by the restoration of the Temple
ritual.(234)
Josiah took away the high places, repaired the Temple, made the people
enter into a covenant to observe the rediscovered Law, and, like Hezekiah,
held a great passover.(235)
The reforming kings, like David and Solomon, are specially interested in
the music of the Temple and in all the arrangements that have to do with
the porters and doorkeepers and other classes of Levites. Their enthusiasm
for the exclusive rights of the one Temple symbolises their loyalty to the
one God, Jehovah, and their hatred of idolatry.
Zeal for Jehovah and His temple is still combined with uncompromising
assertion of the royal supremacy in matters of religion. The king, and not
the priest, is the highest spiritual authority in the nation. Solomon,
Hezekiah, and Josiah control the arrangements for public worship as
completely as Moses or David. Solomon receives Divine communications
without the intervention of either priest or prophet; he himself offers
the great dedication prayer, and when he makes an end of praying, fire
comes down from heaven. Under Hezekiah the civil authorities decide when
the passover shall be observed: “For the king had taken counsel, and his
princes, and all the congregation in Jerusalem, to keep the passover in
the second month.”(236) The great reforms of Josiah are throughout
initiated and controlled by the king. He himself goes up to the Temple and
reads in the ears of the people all the words of the book of the covenant
that was found in the house of Jehovah. The chronicler still adheres to
the primitive idea of the theocracy, according to which the chief, or
judge, or king is the representative of Jehovah.
The title to the crown rests throughout on the grace of God and the will
of the people. In Judah, however, the principle of hereditary succession
prevails throughout. Athaliah is not really an exception: she reigned as
the widow of a Davidic king. The double election of David by Jehovah and
by Israel carried with it the election of his dynasty. The permanent rule
of the house of David was secured by the Divine promise to its founder.
Yet the title is not allowed to rest on mere hereditary right. Divine
choice and popular recognition are recorded in the case of Solomon and
other kings. “All Israel came to Shechem to make Rehoboam king,” and yet
revolted from him when he refused to accept their conditions; but the
obstinacy which caused the disruption “was brought about of God, that
Jehovah might establish His word which He spake by the hand of Ahijah the
Shilonite.”
Ahaziah, Joash, Uzziah, Josiah, Jehoahaz, were all set upon the throne by
the inhabitants of Judah and Jerusalem.(237) After Solomon the Divine
appointment of kings is not expressly mentioned; Jehovah’s control over
the tenure of the throne is chiefly shown by the removal of unworthy
occupants.
It is interesting to note that the chronicler does not hesitate to record
that of the last three sovereigns of Judah two were appointed by foreign
kings: Jehoiakim was the nominee of Pharaoh Neco, king of Egypt; and the
last king of all, Zedekiah, was appointed by Nebuchadnezzar, king of
Babylon. In like manner, the Herods, the last rulers of the restored
kingdom of Judah, were the nominees of the Roman emperors. Such
nominations forcibly illustrate the degradations and ruin of the
theocratic monarchy. But yet, according to the teaching of the prophets,
Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar were tools in the hand of Jehovah; and their
nomination was still an indirect Divine appointment. In the chronicler’s
time, however, Judah was thoroughly accustomed to receive her governors
from a Persian or Greek king; and Jewish readers would not be scandalised
by a similar state of affairs in the closing years of the earlier kingdom.
Thus the reforming kings illustrate the ideal kingship set forth in the
history of David and Solomon: the royal authority originates in, and is
controlled by, the will of God and the consent of the people; the king’s
highest duty is the maintenance of the worship of Jehovah; but the king
and people are supreme both in Church and state.
The personal character of the good kings is also very similar to that of
David and Solomon. Jehoshaphat, Hezekiah, and Josiah are men of spiritual
feeling as well as careful observers of correct ritual. None of the good
kings, with the exception of Joash and Josiah, are unsuccessful in war;
and good reasons are given for the exceptions. They all display
administrative ability by their buildings, the organisation of the Temple
services and the army, and the arrangements for the collection of the
revenue, especially the dues of the priests and Levites.
There is nothing, however, to indicate that the personal charm of David’s
character was inherited by his descendants; but when biography is made
merely a means of edification, it often loses those touches of nature
which make the whole world kin, and are capable of exciting either
admiration or disgust.
The later narrative affords another illustration of the absence of any
sentiment of humanity towards enemies. As in the case of David, the
chronicler records the cruelty of a good king as if it were quite
consistent with loyalty to Jehovah. Before he turned away from following
Jehovah, Amariah defeated the Edomites and smote ten thousand of them.
Others were treated like some of the Malagasy martyrs: “And other ten
thousand did the children of Judah carry away alive, and brought them unto
the top of the rock, and cast them down from the top of the rock, that
they all were broken in pieces.”(238) In this case, however, the
chronicler is not simply reproducing Kings: he has taken the trouble to
supplement his main authority from some other source, probably local
tradition. His insertion of this verse is another testimony to the undying
hatred of Israel for Edom.
But in one respect the reforming kings are sharply distinguished from
David and Solomon. The record of their lives is by no means blameless, and
their sins are visited by condign chastisement. They all, with the single
exception of Jotham, come to a bad end. Asa consulted physicians, and was
punished by being allowed to die of a painful disease.(239) The last event
of Jehoshaphat’s life was the ruin of the navy, which he had built in
unholy alliance with Ahaziah, king of Israel, who did very wickedly.(240)
Joash murdered the prophet Zechariah, the son of the high-priest Jehoiada;
his great host was routed by a small company of Syrians, and Joash himself
was assassinated by his servants.(241) Amaziah turned away from following
Jehovah, and “brought the gods of the children of Seir, and set them up to
be his gods, and bowed down himself before them, and burned incense unto
them.” He was accordingly defeated by Joash, king of Israel, and
assassinated by his own people.(242) Uzziah insisted on exercising the
priestly function of burning incense to Jehovah, and so died a leper.(243)
“Even Hezekiah rendered not again according to the benefit done unto him,
for his heart was lifted up in the business of ambassadors of the princes
of Babylon; therefore there was wrath upon him and upon Judah and
Jerusalem. Notwithstanding Hezekiah humbled himself for the pride of his
heart, both he and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so that the wrath of
Jehovah came not upon them in the days of Hezekiah.” But yet the last days
of Hezekiah were clouded by the thought that he was leaving the punishment
of his sin as a legacy to Judah and the house of David.(244) Josiah
refused to heed the warning sent to him by God through the king of Egypt:
“He hearkened not unto the words of Neco from the mouth of God, and came
to fight in the valley of Megiddo”; and so Josiah died like Ahab: he was
wounded by the archers, carried out of the battle in his chariot, and died
at Jerusalem.(245)
The melancholy record of the misfortunes of the good kings in their
closing years is also found in the book of Kings. There too Asa in his old
age was diseased in his feet, Jehoshaphat’s ships were wrecked, Joash and
Amaziah were assassinated, Uzziah became a leper, Hezekiah was rebuked for
his pride, and Josiah slain at Megiddo. But, except in the case of
Hezekiah, the book of Kings says nothing about the sins which, according
to Chronicles, occasioned these sufferings and catastrophes. The narrative
in the book of Kings carries upon the face of it the lesson that piety is
not usually rewarded with unbroken prosperity, and that a pious career
does not necessarily ensure a happy deathbed. The significance of the
chronicler’s additions will be considered elsewhere; what concerns us here
is his departure from the principles he observed in dealing with the lives
of David and Solomon. They also sinned and suffered; but the chronicler
omits their sins and sufferings, especially in the case of Solomon. Why
does he pursue an opposite course with other good kings and blacken their
characters by perpetuating the memory of sins not mentioned in the book of
Kings, instead of confining his record to the happier incidents of their
career? Many considerations may have influenced him. The violent deaths of
Joash, Amaziah, and Josiah could neither be ignored nor explained away.
Hezekiah’s sin and repentance are closely parallel to David’s in the
matter of the census. Although Asa’s disease, Jehoshaphat’s alliance with
Israel, and Uzziah’s leprosy might easily have been omitted, yet, if some
reformers must be allowed to remain imperfect, there was no imperative
necessity to ignore the infirmities of the rest. The great advantage of
the course pursued by the chronicler consisted in bringing out a clearly
defined contrast between David and Solomon on the one hand and the
reforming kings on the other. The piety of the latter is conformed to the
chronicler’s ideal; but the glory and devotion of the former are enhanced
by the crimes and humiliation of the best of their successors. Hezekiah,
doubtless, is not more culpable than David, but David’s pride was the
first of a series of events which terminated in the building of the
Temple; while the uplifting of Hezekiah’s heart was a precursor of its
destruction. Besides, Hezekiah ought to have prompted by David’s
experience.
By developing this contrast, the chronicler renders the position of David
and Solomon even more unique, illustrious, and full of religious
significance.
Thus as illustrations of ideal kingship the accounts of the good kings of
Judah are altogether subordinate to the history of David and Solomon.
While these kings of Judah remain loyal to Jehovah, they further
illustrate the virtues of their great predecessors by showing how these
virtues might have been exercised under different circumstances: how David
would have dealt with an Ethiopian invasion and what Solomon would have
done if he had found the Temple desecrated and its services stopped. But
no essential feature is added to the earlier pictures.
The lapses of kings who began to walk in the law of the Lord and then fell
away serve as foils to the undimmed glory of David and Solomon. Abrupt
transitions within the limits of the individual lives of Asa, Joash, and
Amaziah bring out the contrast between piety and apostacy with startling,
dramatic effect.
We return from this brief survey to consider the significance of the life
of Solomon according to Chronicles. Its relation to the life of David is
summed up in the name Solomon, the Prince of peace. David is the ideal
king, winning by force of arms for Israel empire and victory, security at
home and tribute from abroad. Utterly subdued by his prowess, the natural
enemies of Israel no longer venture to disturb her tranquillity. His
successor inherits wide dominion, immense wealth, and assured peace.
Solomon, the Prince of peace, is the ideal king, administering a great
inheritance for the glory of Jehovah and His temple. His history in
Chronicles is one of unbroken calm. He has a great army and many strong
fortresses, but he never has occasion to use them. He implores Jehovah to
be merciful to Israel when they suffer from the horrors of war; but he is
interceding, not for his own subjects, but for future generations. In his
time—
“No war or battle’s sound
Was heard the world around:
The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hookèd chariot stood
Unstained with hostile blood;
The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng.”(246)
Perhaps, to use a paradox, the greatest proof of Solomon’s wisdom was that
he asked for wisdom. He realised at the outset of his career that a wide
dominion is more easily won than governed, that to use great wealth
honourably requires more skill and character than are needed to amass it.
To-day the world can boast half a dozen empires surpassing not merely
Israel, but even Rome, in extent of dominion; the aggregate wealth of the
world is far beyond the wildest dreams of the chronicler: but still the
people perish for lack of knowledge. The physical and moral foulness of
modern cities taints all the culture and tarnishes all the splendour of
our civilisation; classes and trades, employers and employed, maim and
crush one another in blind struggles to work out a selfish salvation;
newly devised organisations move their unwieldy masses—
“... like dragons of the prime
That tare each other.”(247)
They have a giant’s strength, and use it like a giant. Knowledge comes,
but wisdom lingers; and the world waits for the reign of the Prince of
peace who is not only the wise king, but the incarnate wisdom of God.
Thus one striking suggestion of the chronicler’s history of Solomon is the
special need of wisdom and Divine guidance for the administration of a
great and prosperous empire.
Too much stress, however, must not be laid on the twofold personality of
the ideal king. This feature is adopted from the history, and does not
express any opinion of the chronicler that the characteristic gifts of
David and Solomon could not be combined in a single individual. Many great
generals have also been successful administrators. Before Julius Cæsar was
assassinated he had already shown his capacity to restore order and
tranquillity to the Roman world; Alexander’s plans for the civil
government of his conquests were as far-reaching as his warlike ambition;
Diocletian reorganised the empire which his sword had re-established;
Cromwell’s schemes of reform showed an almost prophetic insight into the
future needs of the English people; the glory of Napoleon’s victories is a
doubtful legacy to France compared with the solid benefits of his internal
reforms.
But even these instances, which illustrate the union of military genius
and administrative ability, remind us that the assignment of success in
war to one king and a reign of peace to the next is, after all, typical.
The limits of human life narrow its possibilities. Cæsar’s work had to be
completed by Augustus; the great schemes of Alexander and Cromwell fell to
the ground because no one arose to play Solomon to their David.
The chronicler has specially emphasised the indebtedness of Solomon to
David. According to his narrative, the great achievement of Solomon’s
reign, the building of the Temple, has been rendered possible by David’s
preparations. Quite apart from plans and materials, the chronicler’s view
of the credit due to David in this matter is only a reasonable recognition
of service rendered to the religion of Israel. Whoever provided the timber
and stone, the silver and gold, for the Temple, David won for Jehovah the
land and the city that were the outer courts of the sanctuary, and roused
the national spirit that gave to Zion its most solemn consecration.
Solomon’s temple was alike the symbol of David’s achievements and the
coping-stone of his work.
By compelling our attention to the dependence of the Prince of Peace upon
the man who “had shed much blood,” the chronicler admonishes us against
forgetting the price that has been paid for liberty and culture. The
splendid courtiers whose “apparel” specially pleased the feminine tastes
of the queen of Sheba might feel all the contempt of the superior person
for David’s war-worn veterans. The latter probably were more at home in
the “store cities” than at Jerusalem. But without the blood and toil of
these rough soldiers Solomon would have had no opportunity to exchange
riddles with his fair visitor and to dazzle her admiring eyes with the
glories of his temple and palaces.
The blessings of peace are not likely to be preserved unless men still
appreciate and cherish the stern virtues that flourish in troubled times.
If our own times become troubled, and their serenity be invaded by fierce
conflict, it will be ours to remember that the rugged life of “the hold in
the wilderness” and the struggles with the Philistines may enable a later
generation to build its temple to the Lord and to learn the answers to
“hard questions.”(248) Moses and Joshua, David and Solomon, remind us
again how the Divine work is handed on from generation to generation:
Moses leads Israel through the wilderness, but Joshua brings them into the
Land of Promise; David collects the materials, but Solomon builds the
Temple. The settlement in Palestine and the building of the Temple were
only episodes in the working out of the “one increasing purpose,” but one
leader and one life-time did not suffice for either episode. We grow
impatient of the scale upon which God works: we want it reduced to the
limits of our human faculties and of our earthly lives; yet all history
preaches patience. In our demand for Divine interventions whereby—
“... sudden in a minute
All is accomplished, and the work is done,”
we are very Esaus, eager to sell the birthright of the future for a mess
of pottage to-day.
And the continuity of the Divine purpose is only realised through the
continuity of human effort. We must indeed serve our own generation; but
part of that service consists in providing that the next generation shall
be trained to carry on the work, and that after David shall come
Solomon—the Solomon of Chronicles, and not the Solomon of Kings—and that,
if possible, Solomon shall not be succeeded by Rehoboam. As we attain this
larger outlook, we shall be less tempted to employ doubtful means, which
are supposed to be justified by their end; we shall be less enthusiastic
for processes that bring “quick returns,” but give very “small profits” in
the long run. Christian workers are a little too fond of spiritual
jerry-building, as if sites in the kingdom of heaven were let out on
ninety-nine-year leases; but God builds for eternity, and we are
fellow-workers together with Him.
To complete the chronicler’s picture of the ideal king, we have to add
David’s warlike prowess and Solomon’s wisdom and splendour to the piety
and graces common to both. The result is unique among the many pictures
that have been drawn by historians, philosophers, and poets. It has a
value of its own, because the chronicler’s gifts in the way of history,
philosophy, and poetry were entirely subordinated to his interest in
theology; and most theologians have only been interested in the doctrine
of the king when they could use it to gratify the vanity of a royal
patron.
The full-length portrait in Chronicles contrasts curiously with the little
vignette preserved in the book which bears the name of Solomon. There, in
the oracle which King Lemuel’s mother taught him, the king is simply
admonished to avoid strange women and strong drink, to “judge righteously,
and minister judgment to the poor and needy.”(249)
To pass to more modern theology, the theory of the king that is implied in
Chronicles has much in common with Wyclif’s doctrine of dominion: they
both recognise the sanctity of the royal power and its temporal supremacy,
and they both hold that obedience to God is the condition of the continued
exercise of legitimate rule. But the priest of Lutterworth was less
ecclesiastical and more democratic than our Levite.
A more orthodox authority on the Protestant doctrine of the king would be
the Thirty-nine Articles. These, however, deal with the subject somewhat
slightly. As far as they go, they are in harmony with the chronicler. They
assert the unqualified supremacy of the king, both ecclesiastical and
civil. Even “general councils may not be gathered together without the
commandment and will of princes.”(250) On the other hand, princes are not
to imitate Uzziah in presuming to exercise the priestly function of
offering incense: they are not to minister God’s word or sacraments.
Outside theology the ideal of the king has been stated with greater
fulness and freedom, but not many of the pictures drawn have much in
common with the chronicler’s David and Solomon. Machiavelli’s prince and
Bolingbroke’s patriot king belong to a different world; moreover, their
method is philosophical, and not historical: they state a theory rather
than draw a picture. Tennyson’s Arthur is, what he himself calls him, an
“ideal knight” rather than an ideal king. Perhaps the best parallels to
David are to be found in the Cyrus of the Greek historians and
philosophers and the Alfred of English story. Alfred indeed combines many
of the features both of David and Solomon: he secured English unity, and
was the founder of English culture and literature; he had a keen interest
in ecclesiastical affairs, great gifts of administration, and much
personal attractiveness. Cyrus, again, specially illustrates what we may
call the posthumous fortunes of David: his name stood for the ideal of
kingship with both Greeks and Persians, and in the _Cyropædia_ his life
and character are made the basis of a picture of the ideal king.
Many points are of course common to almost all such pictures; they portray
the king as a capable and benevolent ruler and a man of high personal
character. The distinctive characteristic of Chronicles is the stress laid
on the piety of the king, his care for the honour of God and the spiritual
welfare of his subjects. If the practical influence of this teaching has
not been altogether beneficent, it is because men have too invariably
connected spiritual profit with organisation, and ceremonies, and forms of
words, sound or otherwise.
But to-day the doctrine of the state takes the place of the doctrine of
the king. Instead of Cyropædias we have Utopias. We are asked sometimes to
look back, not to an ideal king, but to an ideal commonwealth, to the age
of the Antonines or to some happy century of English history when we are
told that the human race or the English people were “most happy and
prosperous”; oftener we are invited to contemplate an imaginary future. We
may add to those already made one or two further applications of the
chronicler’s principles to the modern state. His method suggests that the
perfect society will have the virtues of our actual life without its
vices, and that the possibilities of the future are best divined from a
careful study of the past. The devotion of his kings to the Temple
symbolises the truth that the ideal state is impossible without
recognition of a Divine presence and obedience to a Divine will.