Vice and Virtue in High Places.
I. A cruel ruler is on a level with the most cruel of the brute creation. The more power a man holds in his hand over the destinies of his fellow-creatures the greater is his responsibility, and the blacker is his crime if he abuses his opportunities of blessing them. In proportion to the unlimited character of his authority ought to be his care not to overstep the limits of the strictest justice, and he is bound to lean rather to the side of mercy than to severity. The less reason he has to fear any retaliation from those whom he rules, the more is he bound to mingle much gentleness and forbearance with his government, for it is the act of a coward to act towards the weak and defenceless as we should fear to act towards one who is our equal in strength. The man who can be capable of such cowardice no longer deserves the name of a man, but puts himself on a level with those beasts of prey from whom we shrink in terror, knowing that in them there is no reason, or conscience, or pity to which we can appeal.
II. Incapacity in a ruler may work almost as much misery as cruelty. A mother may not be guilty of positive acts of cruelty towards her children, and yet they may suffer very keenly and very seriously from her unfitness to train their souls and her ignorance as to how to take care of their bodies. Her neglect may in the end bring consequences as fatal as the greatest severity would have done. This rule holds good wherever one human creature has others dependent upon him, and the more entire the dependence, the more miserable will be the results of his or her incapacity. In countries where rulers do not bear absolute sway, a “prince who wanteth understanding” is not so great a curse as where his will is the only or the supreme law, but the history of our own country contains instances of monarchs who, although they would have been harmless in private life, were, from lack of capacity to rule, very great oppressors of the people.
III. The curse which rests upon all such oppressors of their kind. Like Jehoram of old, they depart undesired (2 Chron. xxi. 20). The blood of their brothers crieth out for vengeance upon their heads, and no man puts forth a hand to arrest their doom. Even those who pity as well as blame, if they wish well to the body politic, feel it is a blessing when such tyrants are removed from the earth—when their power of doing violence to the rights of their fellow-creatures is at an end. “Let no man stay him” for the sake of those whom he leaves behind, and let no man hinder his departure for his own sake, for his continuance in his place upon the earth would but give him opportunity to add to his crimes, and thus increase the weight of his punishment. (For illustrations of this subject and additional Homiletics see on chap. [xi. 17], page 220—also [page 208].)
outlines and suggestive comments.
Verse 15. But these emblems were insufficient to represent the monstrous barbarities that have been often exercised by those that were at the head of the Roman empire in its pagan or antichristian state; and, therefore, Daniel and John represent them under the figure of monsters more dreadful than any that were ever beheld by the eyes of man (Jer. xxxi. 18, Daniel vii. 10, Rev. xiii.). The language of inspiration could not furnish out more terrible images for the devil himself, than those which have been used to represent the wickedness of tyrannical and persecuting powers. We ought to be thankful for the wounds that have been given to the beast with seven heads and two horns, and for the civil and religious liberties which we enjoy.—Lawson.
Verse 16. As want of understanding maketh a man an oppressor, so to be an oppressor showeth a want of understanding in him. But the special want at which the verse seems to aim is the greedy want of covetousness. For as a covetous man wanteth understanding, because he seeketh that so eagerly which he cannot keep, so a covetous prince wanteth understanding, because he seeketh that so earnestly which he hath already.—Jermin.
Verse 17. God’s jealous regard for the life of man was strongly expressed at the second outset of our world’s history; and expressed in terms of evident allusion to the early and awful violation of its sacredness in the antediluvian period:—“And surely your blood of your lives will I require; at the hand of every beast will I require it, and at the hand of man; at the hand of every man’s brother will I require the life of man. Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man” (Gen. ix. 5, 6). For my own part, having examined the various principles of interpretation by which those who are for doing away all capital punishments have explained these words, I have not been able to satisfy myself with any one of them. They seem to be all forced and unnatural, and, on different critical grounds, inadmissible. I cannot but regard the language as bearing no fair and natural interpretation, but that which makes it a Divine requisition, on the part of man, of blood for blood—that is, of life for life; and as thus affording more than a sanction, as laying down a requirement. Though I am far from conceiving that we are bound by Jewish criminal law, yet in the law regarding murder there is so evident an allusion to this original and universal injunction, and the language withal is so very pointed and emphatically reiterated, that I cannot go the length of those who would include murder among crimes to be punished with infliction short of death. When set beside the original and universal law it serves, by its very emphasis and peremptoriness, to confirm the ordinary interpretation of that charge to the second progenitors of our race as the just one, and to show, therefore, the universality of its obligation.—Wardlaw.
Even the heathen judged this awful transgressor to be under the Divine vengeance (Acts xxviii. 4). The death therefore of the murderer is an imperative obligation. It is miscalled philanthropy that protests against all capital punishments. Shall man pretend to be more merciful than God? Pity is misplaced here. The murderer therefore of his brother is his own murderer.—Bridges.
This is not directly an admonition against that which is immoral; it may also be a declaration of that which is impossible.—Delitzsch.