A Noble Womanly Refusal
P.C. Barker Esther 1:10-12 On the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha… We know from actual history literally nothing of Vashti, except her name, and what is written of her in the present connection. But it is evident that she could not have been merely one of the inferior wives of the Eastern king, although this has been suggested. She is not only emphatically called queen, but she acts as the queen, "making a feast for the women," while Ahasuerus makes his for the princes and the general people; and the choice and the bearing of her successor, Esther, point the same way. The name of Vashti appears to view a moment; it then utterly disappears - and in disgrace. Yet not in shame; neither in the shame of sin or folly, nor in the shame even of error of judgment and want of true wisdom. No; for "posterity approve her saying" and her doing. Our gaze was at first invited to her as one "very fair to look upon," a meteor of beauty. So her descending track, swift as it was, is one of real splendour; amid thick darkness around it marks a welcome line of light, and leaves a glory on our vision! This is all the more remarkable to be said of a heathen woman. Notice here a noble womanly refusal, and the womanly ground of it noble. We have here the spectacle of a woman who risked, who no doubt knew that she forfeited, a high position and all splendour of earthly prospects from that time forward, because she would not prejudice the due of her own womanly nature; because she would not be party to robbing herself of her feminine birthright; because she would not be minished in aught of her modesty's ultimate and indefeasible rights. When her affronted but determined voice and verdict were heard, as she "refused to come," this was heard in them - to wit, the clear ring of true womanly instinct and of intelligent womanly feeling. I. THIS WAS A NOBLE REFUSAL BECAUSE OF WHAT IT COST. That "cost" may be reckoned in several ways. For instance, there was present (1) the cost of effort, and effort of the most severely trying kind. There are many who stand at no cost except this. They will be liberal, and even wasteful in expenditure, i.e. in any other expenditure than that of effort. The prices of ease, luxury, they do not object to, but the price of effort frightens them at once. There were several dements also in the effort made by Vashti. There was the effort of resisting a husband's familiar authority. There was the effort of resisting an Eastern husband's peremptory command. There was the effort of breaking through the national custom of centuries ingrained in the race, and which made the wife a slave to passion and despotic rule. The severity of such effort must have been heightened by the consideration of the struggle being with a potentate of dominion unparalleled and of notorious unscrupulousness, sustained on the part of that woman single-handed. We read of those who backed up the insulting and licentious order of the king, but we do not read of one solitary voice according help and sympathy to the refusing queen. Now there are senses in which effort compels our admiration, even when the object of it fails to command our approval. Great is the inertia of human nature, held enmeshed in the toils of habit, of custom, of conventionality, of apprehended consequences, of jealous misconstruction, of envious detraction, of artificial forebodings that magnify themselves alike so monstrously and so successfully. Correspondingly noble and impressive was this woman's effort, whose "NO," though she sank because of it, crashed through all the forces that environed her, and its report resounded through a kingdom. The effort, then, the severity of it in relation to its kind, and the object of it, do in this case all command our approval and our strong admiration. Then (2) the cost of this refusal is to be judged from the consequences which ensued. As against conscience, the right, and Divine law, consequences ought to decide nothing, that is to say, they are not to be put in the balance to weigh down one side or the other. These all are to be obeyed in and of themselves. So soon as their voice is heard, understood, and not misconceived, that voice is to be followed, let it lead whither it will. Their command is sovereign, and they may be well trusted to vindicate it sooner or later. There is indeed a sense in which it is of the highest importance to observe consequences, and to put them into the balance, viz., when we are studying the entire structure of our moral nature. A just observing of consequences therein is then equivalent to a scrutiny of tendencies, and the moral argument from tendencies in this sense is most legitimate, and should be irresistible. To them, when fairly tracked from beginning to end, reverent regard is due, and, once ascertained, the greatest weight should be accorded to them. A partial and broken study of consequences is what is unreliable and proportionately dangerous. Sidelong glances at immediate, or early, or merely present life consequences are what betoken inherent weakness or ignoble timidity of principle. Yet while the consideration of consequences should count nothing against the demands of right, and the commands of conscience and the Divine law, the kind of attention paid to them measures for us conveniently and justly the force or weakness of principle. The temporal consequences which one foresaw or reckoned upon (even if he deceived himself) will often sufficiently explain what buoyed him up - it was a vision of earthly grandeur, wealth, success, nothing higher. And the temporal, the threatening, the immediately impending consequences which another saw, rather than foresaw, are the significant tell-tale of the high-strung principle, the determined purpose, the noble force, which without a rival reigned within him. The weight of suffering in the hand is vastly greater than that in some undefined distance of prospect. The storm of grief and of sorrow that is now ready to burst on the very head looms terrific. The deposing of a queen, the divorcing of a wife, the disgracing of a woman in the eyes of all men, and of her own sex in particular, vain or not vain - these are consequences that overwhelm! Reckon we so then the cost of consequences to the queen, wife, woman who "refused to come at the king's commandment." Was this not a noble womanly refusal? II. THIS WAS a NOBLE REFUSAL BECAUSE OF THE GROUND OF IT. It can perhaps scarcely be said that there were grounds for it. There were a multitude of (what very many would have considered) reasons why Vashti should not have refused to come, and there might truly have been reasons more than one, had she been differently situated, why she should have done as she actually did. Had she lived, for instance, at a different time of day, had she lived in a different country, had she belonged to a different race, there might have been some variety of reasons why she should have taken up the position she did, and adhered to it. But in point of fact there was probably great singleness of reason for this her great boldness of utterance and of action. Under certain circumstances one would have been glad to suppose that other considerations also played their part, and had their influence in Vashti's peremptory negative decision. But we should be artificial, ungenuine, and guilty of an anachronism if we supposed these now. And that we cannot bring these lesser lights to throw their fainter rays on the scene leaves it in the undivided glory of God's light. Here was his purity shedding its unflickering light on the thick darkness of that showy, sensual feast. The less we can justly set Vashti's refusal down to the higher conscious reflex acts of our nature, and moral effects resulting from them, the more is it attributable to the calm light of that lamp which God has hung in the retired and sacred cabinet of the bosom of woman, to decorate it, and to bless with its religious glimmering through the windows all that come near enough, but not too near! It is the lamp of sweet purity, of nature's own modesty, burning ever still with shame! That it is nature's modesty means that God's own hand hung it, lighted it. That it was burning in so unlikely a place, in such unfavourable conditions, at such a time, is all comfort and joy to our faith, for it means that God's hand had been round it, and shielded it so that it was not puffed out by the untoward gusts around. And that "frail woman" - borne upon now by every present-time influence, literally thronged with inducements to sink all shame for an hour that she might reign still for years, besieged with earthly motives to succumb and yield obedience to a coarse command - did refuse to succumb, ran the gauntlet of all consequences whatsoever, and, with an aroused indignation that would sleep no more, flung back the brutal mandate in the face of him who sent it, is fitted to show us how "in weakness" certain "strength is made perfect," and how the things amazing and "impossible with man, are possible with God;" yes, even facile to his Spirit's breath. - B. Parallel Verses KJV: On the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha, Zethar, and Carcas, the seven chamberlains that served in the presence of Ahasuerus the king, WEB: On the seventh day, when the heart of the king was merry with wine, he commanded Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, and Abagtha, Zethar, and Carcass, the seven eunuchs who served in the presence of Ahasuerus the king,