XXIII.

Absalom's Hair.

IT is not without a cause that a record is preserved in those Scriptures "which are written for our learning," of the magnificent growth of Absalom's hair, which, like a golden harvest, was cut by him every year, and weighed, in the pride of his heart. It is remarkable that this very hair, this mass of rich beauty, was, through God's judgment, the instrument of Absalom's destruction.

When the prince fled on his mule before the troops of his injured father, as Absalom was passing beneath a thick oak, the branches caught his head, and suspended him between the heaven and the earth, while his mule passed on through the wood; and there in agony and terror hung the miserable sinner, unable to release himself from the fetters of his own luxuriant hair, till death came in the form of a merciless kinsman, and three darts were thrust by Joab through the heart of Absalom as he was yet alive in the midst of the oak.

There is no one in Scripture whose mortal beauty, is more vividly described than Absalom's. "In all Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absalom for his beauty: from the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head there was no blemish in him." And there are few whose characters are represented to us as so loathsome and black with sin. This suggests a natural inquiry, Was the extraordinary beauty of Absalom in any way a snare to his soul; was it a bane to him throughout his life, as well as the immediate cause of his death?

In a certain subordinate degree, perhaps, we may find that it was so. Absalom's great personal attractions probably increased the weak, doating partiality of David for his unworthy son, while they made it more easy for the prince to attain the object of his guilty ambition—"he stole the hearts of Israel."

Should we then represent beauty as a thing to be despised? Far from it. Beauty is the stamp which God hath set upon the wondrous works of His creation; deformity only entered this world with sin, and in the realms where sin is unknown, all will again be perfect beauty. Personal charms, like rank or wealth, are a talent, for they undoubtedly bestow influence; and a blessed thing is influence used for God. There is no fairer sight than that of youth and loveliness united with "the beauty of holiness," and devoted to the service of Christ.

The subject naturally opens out into that of personal appearance in general, and a little reflection upon it may not be unprofitable to those who possess few attractions, as well as those gifted with many. To appear well is a common wish, confined to neither sex, nor to any station or age. As beauty has its advantages and responsibilities, let us consider for a brief space, with Absalom's rich locks before us, what are some of the temptations to which it exposes its possessor. They seem to be chiefly these—love of dress, love of the world, love of admiration.

The first of these, "love of dress," may seem to be a folly better attacked by playful satire than by serious rebuke. It is not very often noticed from the pulpit, though it can be very little pleasure to an earnest-minded pastor to see the pews like a tulip-bed before him, where, instead of being dressed with modesty and "shamefacedness," Christian women seem to study how to evade the command to wear a covering on their heads in the house of prayer, by making that covering as slight and as fantastic as may be. Even painting the skin is not unknown amongst the women of England, though she of whom it is recorded that "she painted her face and tired her head," is assuredly one of the last whom our matrons or maidens would wish to resemble. A bold style of dress is so utterly repugnant to all our ideas of Christian devotion, that we can hardly even imagine it to have been ever worn by the holy women who ministered to our Lord.

The sums of money lavished on dress (nor is the reproach confined to the weaker sex) is also a disgrace to Christian profession in a land where poverty abounds. I have heard that a lady (I am glad to say not British) boasted that she spent a thousand a year on dress. She would hardly have uttered that boast had she realized that upon her at that moment was resting the eye of Him who said to the rich young ruler, "Sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven."

It is, indeed, impossible to fix a rule as to how much it is lawful to spend upon dress, as the amount must necessarily vary according to means and station in life; it would be well, however, to determine never to spend money on any mere ornament of the person, without giving at least an equal sum to purchase plain articles of clothing for the poor, to be bestowed "personally." Were this simple plan adopted, one may safely aver that the flannel and serge would be found to bring far more pleasure than the jewel, the lace, or the plume; and luxuries would be gradually relinquished, and that with no feeling of regret, for the richer luxury of clothing the shivering forms of the poor.

"Love of the world" is another evil to which those are peculiarly exposed whose attractions dispose the world to love them. To them there is an added gloss to pleasure; scenes of amusement are brightened by the ready welcome which they ever receive there. The ornaments of society need even more than others to watch and pray lest they enter into temptation, and to seek that grace which alone can keep them "unspotted from the world."

For the "love of admiration" is in many minds not unlike the feverish craving for intoxicating liquor which possesses the habitual drunkard. Eager is the longing for the sweet poison of flattery, the excitement caused by a sense of power over human hearts. And this leads to very serious evil. I am not referring only to the dark descent to actual vice, to which, in thousands of cases, the love of admiration has led; but would earnestly protest against that common effect of it which makes trifling with the happiness of others the favourite amusement of the vain of both sexes, under the name of flirting. One who would not willingly set foot on a worm will often feel actual pleasure in inflicting the keenest pangs. Selfish vanity must be gratified at any cost to others, ungenerous as it is to desire to engross affection which cannot be returned. The man who prides himself on being a "lady-killer," or the beauty who complacently counts up the number of her "conquests," is making an unworthy and sinful use of the endowments of nature. I might quote to such the homely advice of the great Marquis of Montrose,—

"Let no one to more love pretend Than he has hearts in store; True love begun should never end— Love one, and love no more."

But I would rather take higher ground. This pride of beauty, this selfishness of vanity, is "utterly inconsistent" with a Christian character; it is incompatible with the adoption of that spirit of Christ without which we "are none of His." God's people are called to glorify Him in their bodies as well as their souls; and where the beauty which He has bestowed becomes a cause of vanity, selfishness, and folly, its possessor may one day have reason to regret not having been a cretin or a dwarf.

There are two special antidotes to the spiritual poison which is constantly offered to those in whom the world delights. The first is a realization of the transitory nature of that beauty which passes away like a flower; the second is meditation on that beauty which will abide for ever. One great poet has, as it were, written the first on a skull; he preaches his sermon in the churchyard. But it is more pleasant, and at least as profitable, to turn our thoughts from the dust "sown in dishonour" to what it shall be when "raised in glory." We cannot but think that outward beauty will then correspond with that which before was inward; that they who have borne most of the Saviour's image in their hearts will bear most of that image visibly when we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.

Oh, what marvellous changes will appear on the day of the resurrection! The wrinkled face, the decrepit form, the blemish, and the deformity, will then, in God's saints, be exchanged for the brilliancy of immortal beauty, beyond what thought can conceive! But how then will an Absalom appear? Let Nature's favoured ones turn from the looking-glass to God's Word, and test by that mirror of truth both what they are and what they are likely to be; whether their goodliness be but as "the flower of grass which passeth away," or be the faint, dim type of that beauty with which God will clothe His redeemed, who, though now in the world, and perhaps admired and sought after there, are yet (like their Master) "not of the world," nor look for their happiness in its vain pleasures or empty applause.

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