Edited by David M. Gunn, Translated by David E. Orton Narrative and Novella in Samuel Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 JSOT Supplement 1991 PDF

JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT
SUPPLEMENT SERIES
116
Editors
David J.A. Clines
Philip R. Davies
HISTORIC TEXTS AND INTERPRETERS

IN BIBLICAL SCHOLARSHIP
9
General Editor
Professor J.W. Rogerson (Sheffield)
Consultant Editors
Professor C.K. Barrett (Durham)
Professor R. Smend (Gb'ttingen)
Professor D.M. Gunn (Decatur)
Almond Press
Sheffield
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NARRATIVE and
NOVELLA in
SAMUEL
Studies by
Hugo Gressmann
and Other Scholars
1906-1923
Translated by David E. Orton

Edited by David M. Gunn
The Almond
Press
1991
Translation has been made from the following sources:

Hugo Gressmann, Die alteste Geschichtsschreibung and Prophetic Israels,
in H. Gunkel, W. Stark, P. Volz, H. Gressmann, H. Schmidt and M. Haller
(eds.), Die Schriften des Alien Testaments, II.1 (2nd rev. edn, Gottingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921) (selected sections).
Wilhelm Caspari, 'Literarische Art und historischer Wert von 2 Sam. 15
20', Theologische Studien undKritiken 82 (1909), pp. 317-48.
Bernhard Luther, 'Die Novelle von Juda und Tamar und andere israelitische
Novellen', in Eduard Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme (Halle:
Max Niemeyer, 1906), pp. 177-206.
Alfons Schulz, Erzahlungskunst in den Samuel-Biichern (Biblische Zeitfragen, llth series, 6-7; Miinster: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung,
1923).
Copyright 1991 Sheffield Academic Press
Published by Almond Press
Editorial direction: David M. Gunn
Columbia Theological Seminary
P.O. Box 520, Decatur
GA 30031, U.S.A.
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Typeset by Sheffield Academic Press and
Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain
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British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Narrative and novella in Samuel: studies by Hugo Gressmann
and other scholars 1906-1923.
1. Bible. O.T. Samuel
I. Gressmann, Hugo II. Gunn, David M. (David
Miller) 1942III. Series
222.406
ISSN 0309-0787
ISSN 0263-1199
ISBN 1-85075-281-8
CONTENTS
Editor's Preface
HUGO GRESSMANN
The Oldest History Writing in Israel
Introduction
David and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 10.1-12.31)
Amnon and Absalom (2 Samuel 13.1-14.33)
The Revolt of Absalom and Sheba
(2 Samuel 15.1-20.22)
David's Officers (2 Samuel 20.23-26)
The Conflict between Solomon and Adonijah
over the Succession (1 Kings 1.1-2.46)
9
9
23
31
38
52
52
WILHELM CASPARI
The Literary Type and Historical Value of
2 Samuel 15-20
59
BERNHARD LUTHER
The Novella of Judah and Tamar and
Other Israelite Novellas
89
ALFONS SCHULZ
Narrative Art in the Books of Samuel
119
Bibliography
Index of Biblical References
Index of Authors
171
173
183
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EDITOR'S PREFACE
In the course of editing and translating Leonhard Host's classic work on the books of Samuel, Die Uberlieferung von der
Thronnachfolge Davids (published in 1926; translated as The
Succession to the Throne of David [HTIBS, 1; Sheffield:
Almond, 1982]), I was struck again by Host's sensitivity to
matters of literary artistry. I was also struck by the extent to
which this interest in the form and style of 'poetic narratives'
typified an interest of other biblical scholars in Germany during the early decades of the twentieth century. The present
book grew out of those observations. In 1980, when I conceived
the project, biblical studies were beginning to temper their
obsessive historicism with a revaluation of biblical narrative as
art, nowhere more so than in the books of Samuel. Thus it
seemed appropriate in these closing decades of the century to
bring into view, through translation, some continuities with
past Samuel scholarship that took an interest in the narrator's
craft.
The pieces chosen for translation are all cited in Rost,
though in the case of Bernhard Luther and Alfons Schulz,
cited on only one occasion each, and then only to disagree with
Luther on the question of whether or not 2 Samuel 13 and 14
formed, as William Caspari and Hugo Gressmann also
maintained, an independent Tamar novella'. Yet I rather
think both Schulz and Luther, certainly Luther, influenced
Rost rather more than those brief citations might suggest
(though I shall not attempt to substantiate this point here). In
any case, Luther's discussion of the genre novella (German
Novelle), a highly crafted (and 'literary' as opposed to 'oral' or
'popular') short story genre much favoured in European literature, sets the terms of discussion that continues with
Caspari, Gressmann and Rost. Rost, determined to show the
extended nature of the 'Succession History', rejected the
notion of shorter self-contained stories as the predominant
Narrative and Novella in Samuel
compositional feature of Samuel. But he, like all these critics,

took seriously the nature of the material as story, being
especially attentive to questions of plot.
Of these scholars, Luther is little known apart from this
seminal piece and another he wrote, on the Yahwist, in the
same Meyer volume. Caspari wrote widely and is probably
best known in Samuel studies for his commentary in the series
Kommentar zum Alten Testament (Leipzig, 1926). Schulz,
too, wrote a commentary on Samuel, in the series Exegetisches Handbuch zum Alten Testament (Miinster, 1919/1920),
though his work has received less scholarly recognition, perhaps in part because, as a Catholic, he took a conservative
view on matters of composition and history. (It is not inconceivable that his sustained and unusual interest in rhetorical
features of the text was itself related to the exigencies of
working within his tradition at that time.) The major figure of
the group is, of course, Gressmann, whose work might well be
ranked with that of Hermann Gunkel, though it is Gunkel
who has received sustained attention as the century has proceeded. In Samuel studies, Gressmann's (like Caspari's) view
of a loose collection of short individual component narratives
gave way to Host's view of a few extensive, unitary narratives.
But Gressmann's broad discussions of narrative genre and his
detailed comments on the text were important for Rost and
many others. He remains a scholar of stature and it is
remarkable that so little of his work has ever appeared in
English translation. Here is a modest start to changing that
situation.
In the bibliographic notes to Host's The Succession to the
Throne of David I optimistically cited this book as appearing in
1982! The exigencies of my life have rather derailed that projection. My thanks to David Clines and Philip Davies at
Sheffield Academic Press for being willing to continue support
for a book so long in the making. Above all, I am deeply grateful to David Orton for his patience and perseverance, his care
and skill as a translator, and his friendship over these passing
years.
David M. Gunn
Columbia Theological Seminary
January, 1991
THE OLDEST HISTORY WRITING IN ISRAEL

Hugo Gressmann
INTRODUCTION
a. In the books of Kings, the reign of each king is concluded

(with minor variations) with the notice that: 'The rest of the
acts of...and all that he did, are they not written in the Books
of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel?' or 'of Judah', according to whether it was an Israelite or a Judaean king. As further information about these books has not come down to us,
we are dependent on inferences, which cannot claim complete
certainty. The corresponding Hebrew expression, 'Book of the
daily events' in its literal rendering, indicates primarily a
court journal, a collation of the daily events occurring at court
or in the country of the king concerned. It was the duty of an
official bearing the title 'chancellor' to keep this journal. Such
journals are attested in Egypt, Phoenicia, Persia and at the
Hellenistic courts.1 They apparently contained everything
that the king said and did, both in private and in public, and
especially reports on his military activities. If one is not to
assume the existence of additional journals kept by his officials,
they also contained all business matters: 'in' and 'out' files,
income and expenditure, building, gifts, tributes, journeys,
feasts, taxes, censuses, names of those occupying important
official posts, births, marriages, deaths and everything else
that concerned the royal court. From these journals, then,
1. Est. 2.33; 6.1; H. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder
(1909), vol. 1: A. Ungnad and G. von Ranke, Texte, p. 227; Wilcken,
Philologus 53 (1894), pp. 80ff.
10
comes the information about David's family (2 Sam. 3.2-5;

5.13-16), his officials (8.16-18; 20.23-26), his wars (8.1-15) and
his heroes (23.24-38). Popular saga has no sympathy for such
lists, and just as little for the loosely collated pieces of information from Solomon's reign (1 Kgs 9.10-28; 10.11-29). These
compilations on the other hand are very much in the style of
journals; for the fleeting moment does not make a history; day
to day occurrences necessarily have a fragmentary character
about them.
b. Whether excerpts were made from the journals is open to
question; perhaps there were also summarizing annals. Such
are known to us from Egypt (the Palermo stone; monuments
of Thutmoses III), from Old and New Babylonia ('Chronicles')
and from Assyria (inscriptions). While the Assyrian rulers, in
accordance with the special interests of their military state,
report almost exclusively on their annual war campaigns, in
Babylonia and Egypt one also hears of cultural matters, of
temple and canal construction, of gifts of incense and offcasts.
Since in ancient times there was no defined era in which the
years were consecutively numbered, it was necessary for
practical reasons, for the world of trade and commerce, to
have some way of marking the years, so that in the interpretation of long-term contracts, for example, there would be no
room for mistakes. The simplest way of doing this, going by
outstanding events that were held in common memory over a
lengthy period (such as Amos 1.1: 'two years before the earthquake'), was inadequate in the long term. And so in Egypt and
Babylonia it became the custom at a very early period not only
to mark the years according to significant events, but also to
number them according to the length of the reign of the current king. Thus royal lists were required in which rulers were
listed in order, the number of years of their reign given, as well
as other facts such as wars, feast-days, manner of death and
place of burial. Such royal lists, in the case of Babylonia frequently handed down from very ancient times, will have been
quite usual in Judah and Israel also, after the birth of the
monarchy. After the division of the kingdom, the dates of the
rulers probably were always recorded 'concurrently', the corresponding year of the reign of the king of Israel being added
GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel
11
to that of the king of Judah (or vice versa), as is consistently

done in the books of Kings. By this means, sources of error
were limited and decisions in legal disputes were simplified.
It would be quite conceivable that the royal lists or annals
would gradually have been further and further expanded and
would in due course have grown into a coherent historical
account, but in fact this possible development was not realized
anywhere in the Near East. Practically all extant annals can
be described as bare skeletons lacking flesh and bloodat best
a few sober, detached facts that might occupy the mind of a
scholar, but mostly without ideas or content of any depth. In
Israel, too, history writing was totally independent of the
annals, since very little other than the royal lists derives from
them. That the reader is repeatedly referred to the 'Book of
the daily events' without any quotations being given from it,
can only be taken to mean: Whoever wants to know more
must consult the archives!
c. Finally, one might posit the existence of temple chronicles,
which can be thought of as being in the style of court journals,
but with the difference that they were confined to temple
events. Apart from daily income and expenditure they would
contain in particular the building report, a description of the
inventory, details of innovations, lists of high priests and the
whole priesthood, perhaps also information about feasts,
important visitors, bequests, sieges and anything else in the
way of occurrences both great and small that a day brought.
There is some probability that temple chronicles have been
drawn upon for those chapters that deal with Solomon's construction work (1 Kgs 6.1-7.50), the revolt of the priests under
Athaliah (2 Kgs 11.1-20), the repair of the damage to the
Solomonic sanctuary and the invention of the savings box
under Jehoash (2 Kgs 12.1-17), the introduction of a new altar
on the Assyrian model under Ahaz (2 Kgs 16.10-18) and the
discovery of the book of the law under Josiah (2 Kgs 22f.). All
the reports go back to the Jerusalem temple chronicles, an
indication that the historical books we have were processed in
Judah. But certainly the other sanctuaries in the land, especially the royal temples in Bethel and Samaria, also possessed
similar archives, as generally in the Near East temples served
12
simultaneously as libraries. The chapters mentioned are valuable to us; except where they have been subject to later revisions, they are reliable documents.
II
Whoever wants to understand Israelite historical writing in

its inception and growth must not start from the annalistic
sources just described but from the opposite type of account.
For its roots reach right down into the soul of the people, from
whose creative strength it drew its nourishment, while the
official, court-sponsored 'art' soon withered. The compilation
of annals and the writing of history, although there are on the
surface many points of contact between them, cannot possibly
be classed together; indeed one might go so far as to say that to
a certain extent they are mutually exclusive. Where official
annal composition flourishes, popular history writing cannot
thrive. Our evidence of this comes from Babylonia, Assyria
and Egypt, empires which have left a plentiful supply of
inscriptions, chronicles, lists and annals but which did not
progress to history writing. On the other side are the Israelites
and the Greeks, two peoples whose court records are relatively
few, but whose history writing has reached the highest level of
perfection that was granted to ancient times. The reason for
this striking phenomenon is evidently to be found principally
in the variety of the nations' constitutions.
In Babylonia, Assyria and Egypt, kings were all-important
and the people counted for nothing. Egypt was the classical
land of the veneration of kings; in Babylonia and Assyria,
rulers were in general not exactly venerated as gods, but they
did tower over their subjects, separated from them by a
formidable barrier. Israelites and Greeks on the other hand
were free citizens, whose criticism did not even draw the line
at the steps to the throne. The history narrator sees the facts
through his even temperament; he must feel himself to be
above things, if he is to shape them in his mind. Wherever
individuality is suppressed, whether by the despotism of kings
or by priestly rule, history writing is impossible. If Israel had
already been subject to a 'theocracy' (i.e. priestly rule) before
the Exile, or if Solomon's attempt to introduce oriental despo-
13
tism into Israel had had long-term success, then the hopeful
beginnings of history writing would probably have been nipped
in the bud. But the time of Solomon in a sense represents an
episode in the life of Israel.
a. History writing is preceded by the saga, which to begin with
is transmitted only orally. This may be called 'popular*, in that
the author is unknown and even incidental. For although it is
the work of an individual, its creator belongs to the class of the
popular narrator, still well known in the orient today, who
must have been present already at a very early date. Although
he is nowhere expressly attested in the Old Testament, one can
clearly perceive his hand at many points; the names of the
Tahwist' and the 'Elohist' given to certain sources of the
Hexateuch thus do not denote personalities but schools of narrators of the ninth and eighth centuries BCE. By means of continual repetition in this section of society, the narrative of the
individual becomes the common property of many; for whoever transmits it, shapes it and works on it until it has reached
its final form. Of course, the original beauty can also be
marred by inept additions. Thus during its oral transmission
every narrative experiences a history, which can also continue after it is committed to writing. We are frequently in a
position to follow its development more precisely; cracks and
breaks in the development of ideas, unjustified gaps in series of
facts, repetitions and contradictions with the context force the
researcher to delete an interpolation from the text at one point
and to posit a distortion of the tradition at another. In general,
it is precisely in the most beautiful narratives that these phenomena are noted, which is understandable enough as they in
particular were most often repeated and were thus especially
prone to revisions. The critical treatment which genuine scientific method has to use to divide up the tradition, if it wants
to understand it in the way it was originally understood, therefore does not have a destructive effect, but brings attractive
results to light.
b. History writing, on the other hand, is not a popular genre
but an art of educated people, as it presupposes the ability to
read and write. True, the history writers were schooled
14
among the saga-narrators, learning their technique, which is

the same in both genres. We meet the same stylistic devices in
each: both, for example, follow the rule of letting unimportant
matters precede important ones. Both heighten suspense by
means of'retardant' factors, that is, they constantly put off the
expected end by always inserting new incidental action. Both
love to pair off heroes, whether in friendship or in enmity. In
both, the action slowly builds up to a climax but then declines
rapidly. It is common to both to catch up on matters by first
leaving the audience in the dark or being content to drop subtle hints, not supplying the omitted information until later, at a
suitable opportunity, when sufficient curiosity has been
aroused. In both, also, the frequent repetition of an action, with
only minor changes, serves to make the most of the fascination that a situation engenders.
The difference between history writing and the saga is in the
first place one of subject-matter: historical narrative chooses
its subjects from the present or the immediate past; its heroes
are the kings and crown princes, military leaders and
prophets, in short the leading men of the state. For the eye
rests above all on political figures and events, and on the experiences of individuals connected with them. The subject of the
saga, on the other hand, is mostly comprised of events in the
distant past; its heroes are the patriarchs, their wives and children, the powerful men of early times, Moses, Joshua and the
judges. Attention is directed mainly to private persons and
their circumstances, and to political matters only insofar as
they are connected with these.
Secondly, history writing wants to portray what once really
happened and will never be repeated. The saga, it is true, also
makes some claim on belief, because it aims to be a true reflection of the past, but it does not deserve that belief because it
lacks the sense of reality which the historical narrative in fact
has. One will look in vain in history writing, as in the sober
present, for the miracles that are so dear to the saga. Israel's
history writing is, however, no less pious for thison the contrary, it is precisely its pious tone which distinguishes it from
the accounts of other peoples; but it recognizes the hand of God
not in the fairy-tale violation of the laws of nature but in the
natural course of events, or, as we say, in the rule of provi-
15
dence. Nor does its sobriety mean at all that it lacks imagination; the artistic spirit that links it with the saga has protected
it from this. Its political understanding is slight; in general it
has no insight into the driving forces of politics. Its objectivity,
indeed, is astonishingly greatit does not pass over David's
weaknesses (2 Sam. 19), and it describes uninhibitedly Solomon's (1 Kgs If.) or Jehu's (2 Kgs 9f.) acts of murder at their
accession to the thronebut in the final analysis this objectivity springs from a lack of discernment, from an inability to
criticize its heroes. Thus it has not quite managed to release
itself completely from the saga; this is its failing and, at the
same time, its strength.
c. The bounds of saga and history writing are at times fluid,
because the tradition never exactly coincides with the definitions of the terms. So in certain cases one might be in two
minds as to whether to reckon a narrative as belonging to the
former genre or the latter. The accounts of David's conflicts
with Ishbosheth (2 Sam. 2.5), of Amnon and Absalom (13.14),
or of Absalom and Sheba (15.20) certainly belong to the history-writing genre and seem sure to have been disseminated
only in written form, if only by reason of their length. Smaller
units may, however, have spread orally; in such cases we may
speak of historical narratives, as in Saul's first heroic act
(1 Sam. 11), the conflicts over the throne between Solomon
and Adonijah (1 Kgs 1-2) or in the disturbances under Jehu
and Athaliah (2 Kgs 9-11). One has to assume, however, that
they were set down soon after they came into existence,
otherwise they would have become sagas. The transformation
of history writing into the saga is easy to understand, because
gradually imagination gains the upper hand over the evaporating reality. It was a great temptation for the narrator, who
lived in the world of the sagas of his people, to add various
fairy-tale and saga-motifs to the historical tradition, and
thereby make it more gripping for his audience. At times the
transformation process has been halted half-way so that fancy
and truth are mixed in roughly equal parts. The historical
background is still so clearly recognizable that up to a point it
can be described. Often, however, historical facts are so heavily
painted over that only isolated and uncertain traces remain.
16
In the long term a historical narrative can only be protected

against being dissolved completely into saga by being committed to writing. This does not mean to say that all sagas came
out of historical narratives (on the contrary, most sagas were
presumably sagas right from the beginning). But in individual
cases such a development is quite probable, particularly when
a saga is very close to history writing. Thus Saul's wars
against the Philistines are in general reliably presented, and it
is only at the end that a saga-motif intrudes: the human
sacrifice of the king's son (1 Sam. 13.14). Here history writing
is well on the way to becoming a saga.
d. Over against these regressions stands an advance that
begins in the time of David. The historical narrative is given
added depth along the lines of the novella. The inner life of the
heroes is presented in the action more strongly than was previously the case, even if it is not explicitly described at any
great length. The expressions of the human soul become a
problem and stimulate literary treatment, whether of historical or unhistorical subject matter (as in the Joseph saga). This
is the birth of heightened history writing on the lines of the
novella. The narrator's sense of reality has been sharpened. It
is no accident that this occurred in David's time. For it was
natural that a sense for political events should awaken with
the establishment of any empire, although the converse is certainly right also: when eyes were opened to political necessities,
the monarchy was set up and people subjected themselves to
the constraints of the state. In the time of David, individual
narratives began to be preserved in writing from their inception, and it was certainly not long before existing historical
narratives of the present and the recent past were collected
and written down. When the empire was strengthened under
Solomon, when calm came to the land and the people enjoyed
peace, the time had come when the treasures of the past could
be recalled. As the records were at first limited to the period of
the judges, the beginnings of the book of Judges and the first
collection of laws in the book of the covenant and in the decalogues (Exod. 20-23) came into being as early as the tenth
century. The two subsequent centuries, however, went back
further; the source document of the Tahwist' first combined
17
the (already old) sagas of ancient times up to the conquest of

Canaan, and to it was added as a second source document, the
'Elohist'.
e. If one surveys the types of saga in the history books, their
profane character is already evident in the fact that the cult
saga almost completely recedes. The only two examples that
stem from the priestly circles of Jerusalem are limited to the
fate of the Ark of Yahweh and its transfer from Shiloh to
Jerusalem (1 Sam. 4.1-7.1; 2 Sam. 6) and to the founding of
the first Jerusalem altar of Yahweh (2 Sam. 24). Since, however, the sagas have a religious colouring despite their profane
nature, cultic service frequently figures in them; this is specially true of the priestly saga of Samuel, which informs us
about the cult at Shiloh (1 Sam. 1-3), and of the prophetsagas, which are directed against the worship at of Bethel
(1 Kgs 13) or the worship of Baal on Carmel (1 Kgs 18). Of the
hero-sagas, two are particularly valuable for the history of
religions, one because it deals with the Teraphim (1 Sam. 19.917), and the other because it deals with necromancy (1 Sam.
28).
Local sagas are equally scarce: to this type belong only the
sagas of the Judaean desert, of Maon, Engedi and Ziph (1 Sam.
23-24; 26), the saga of Baal Perazim (2 Sam. 5.17-21) and of
the spring in Jericho (2 Kgs 2.19-22). Individual places are
given 'aetiological' explanations by means of factual observations such as Absalom's monument (2 Sam. 18.18) or by linguistic expositions according to popular etymologies such as
the 'Rock of Escape' (1 Sam. 23.28), the 'Lord of breaking
through' (2 Sam. 5.20) or the 'field of sword-edges' (2 Sam.
2.16; cf. 20.8, 19). The hero-saga with its graphic detail naturally gives prominence to many other places, such as the two
rocks, Bozez and Seneh, which Jonathan climbed (1 Sam.
14.4), and equally the cult saga loves to entangle favourite
places in its tendrils, like the stone in the field of Joshua of
Beth-shemesh (1 Sam. 6.18), or the great altar-stone of Saul
(1 Sam. 14.33).
The vast majority of the narratives are hero-sagas, at first
about kings like Saul and David, whose life is utterly inexhaustible and whose doings are traced back as far as the time
18
before their accession (1 Sam. 9f.; 16-18). As a special peculiarity we should mention the giant sagas, which described
David's battles with the Philistines sometimes in the form of
short, detached 'anecdotes' (2 Sam. 21.15-22; 23.8-23), and
sometimes in the form of a detailed narrative, as with David
and Goliath (1 Sam. 17f.). Etymological motifs are rare, but
are not entirely lacking (Samuel, 1 Sam. 1.20; Ichabod, 4.21f.;
Nabal, 25.25). In some hero-sagas there is no mistaking a
touch of humour, as when the Teraphim are laid in the bed
(1 Sam. 19.9ff.) or when David affects insanity (21.11ff.) A
further special group comprises the wisdom sagas, which
illustrate Solomon's cleverness and betray foreign influences
(1 Kgs 3.16-28; 5.9-14; 10.1-13). Next to the kings, it is then
seers such as Samuel (1 Sam. 1-3; 9f; 19.18ff.) and prophets
such as Ahijah (1 Kgs 11.29ff.; 14), Micaiah (1 Kgs 22), Elijah
and Elisha that are extolled by the saga. Saga cycles are
demonstrable only in the case of the latter pair, but even here
only to a small extent (1 Kgs 17f; 2 Kgs 4.8-37; 8.1-6).
f. The powers of imagination, which in the earlier period gave
rise to the creation of sagas, turn in the later period to the formation of the legend. This then joins the historical narrative as
the second descendant of the saga. Legend and saga are
equidistant from reality, so that often it is impossible to extract
a historical kernel from them. But the legend differs from the
saga in its tendentious, edifying character. Religion, which in
the saga appears as the natural background of the words and
action and whose delicate fragrance everywhere delights us,
becomes highly and sometimes unpleasantly obtrusive in the
legend. Miracle, which plays only a minor role in the saga, is
quite inseparable from the legend, as the latter lives in the
atmosphere of the miraculous. It glorifies the people it talks
about with a halo and shifts them into nearness to God, yet it
does not succeed in exalting them to the imposing stature that
we admire in the heroes of the saga. One may then call the
legend a saga in spiritual garb. To it belong the anointing of
David by Saul (1 Sam. 16.1-13) and the story of the disobedient
man of God and the obedient animal of God (1 Kgs 13). But
most of the legends derive only from the Deuteronomist, as
19
does the legend cycle of Samuel (1 Sam. 7.2-8.22; 10.17-27;

12.1-25).
Ill
Prophecy lent new impetus to history writing. Amos already

looked back on Israel's past in his contemplations of history
and took from it examples illustrative of divine grace and the
ingratitude of the people. Hosea, however, referred even more
frequently to history and summarized its development along
definite lines: as long as Israel was in the desert it loved its God
and was faithful to him; but when it came to Canaan it fell
away from him and paid homage to Baal. In this respect, too,
the prophets are dependent on older traditions. Sagas telling of
Baal-worship by the Israelites at their entry into the cultivated
land existed already in their day. Furthermore, the fight
against the Baal cult had never been completely interrupted;
from the beginning there were certain circles, such as the
Rechabites, which refused to accept the local culture and its
religion and which regarded the infusion of these into Israelite
mores and the Yahweh cult as sin. The voices of admonishment and warning echoed in the wind; but always they rang
out afresh and with increasing volume and urgency. In the
major prophets the reaction against Canaanite idolatry
gained its most powerful impetus because it was sustained by a
passionate devotion to Yahweh. Hosea viewed his people's past
from the religious aspect that was the decisive one for him,
namely whether Israel had honoured Yahweh or Baal, and he
discovered a clean cut separating the period of the wandering
in the desert, as the ideal period of young love, from the stay in
Canaan, where Israel was unfaithful to its rightful spouse,
following other lovers.
These ideas, hidden below the surface, continued to have
their effect. In the time of Jeremiah we recognize clearly how
large sections of the people were convinced of the truth of
them. At that time the newly acquired knowledge crystallized
into practical suggestions for reform. Deuteronomy came into
existence and with it began a transformation of the whole
system of worship, intended to do away altogether with the
basic evil of the Baal cult and idolatry by eliminating all holy
20
places with the exception of the Jerusalem temple. This Book

of the Law introduced under Josiah (622 BCE) not only speaks
the language of the prophets, which may be ascertained by a
comparison with Jeremiah's speeches, but also breathes the
spirit of prophecy. The moral and humane rules it lays down,
to care for the poor and oppressed, widows and orphans, slaves
and strangers, are a brilliant achievement of the prophetic
views. More important are the religious ideas that it took over
from prophecy. The centres of the hated Baal religion were
the sacred high places scattered throughout the whole land, in
Israel and Judah. The northern kingdom had committed its
special wickedness when through 'the sin of Jeroboam' calfworship was officially set up in Bethel and Dan. Northern
Israel had already paid for its misdeeds and no longer existed.
But it was hoped that Judah might escape divine punishment
by means of a resolute return to the exclusive worship of
Yahweh, the destruction of the high places and the cleansing
of the temple of Jerusalem from everything heathen.
From this viewpoint Israel's development was now retrospectively presented. When the nation was banished into exile
and when there was time to collect memories of the past more
comprehensively than hitherto, they were subjected to a unified redaction which is usually called a Deuteronomistic revision. By its peculiar language and thought-world this revision
distinguishes itself clearly from its environment. It is especially characteristic of it that it condemns the sacred high
places as sin and the calf-worship in particular as Jeroboam's
sin, at least since the building of Solomon's temple. The
Deuteronomists recognize only the tabernacle during the
wanderings in the desert, and later only the sanctuary in
Jerusalem, as rightful and permitted places of worship. For
the intervening period, from the conquest of Canaan to the
reign of Solomon, they allow the high places also, because in
their opinion there was no central sanctuary at that time. So
each king since Solomon receives his 'grade' according to
whether he favoured or opposed worship at the high places.
Since its abolition was first demanded by the prophets after
Amos, and since it took a long time after that for the prophetic
ideals to achieve recognition, it is understandable that, with
few exceptions, the record sheets of the kings are very poor. To
GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel 21
the Deuteronomistic redaction belong also the concurrent

regnal figures, which in part are certainly founded on older
tradition, but which in part seem to have been artificially constructed. Complete certainty cannot therefore be obtained as
to the dating of the kings, and we have to be content with
approximate dates, which may vary by a number of years.
The Deuteronomic history writing signifies a tremendous
advance, although at first sight one gains a different impression. The few ideas that it handles, and which it constantly
repeats to the point of tedium, taken with the edifying garb in
which it is dressed, have often hindered a just appreciation.
The first important thing is that a framework is now available
into which the whole history can be set. By means of the introduction of a system of dating, for the first time a firm skeleton
is created; the sagas, historical narratives, anecdotes, annals
and legends form the flesh and blood through which the past is
brought to life. Now that they are all arranged in their proper
place, a deeper historical understanding becomes a possibility.
The Deuteronomists add a particular idea to this. They do not
simply describe what has happened but at the same time evaluate it from their own special perspective. The tradition is
thereby transformed in many ways; indeed, at times, as in the
genesis of the monarchy, it is changed into the opposite of what
it was. But it must not be overlooked that this history writing
aspires at the same time to being a philosophy of history.
Beginnings are always primitive and awkward, and this is
true here too; modern philosophy of history, despite its high
level of sophistication, still frequently violates historical traditions instead of bowing to them. Meanwhile, where the spirit
moulds the subject as it wills and pervades it with its perception, history is always simplified, and for that very reason the
confusing totality of the phenomena is dissolved into easily
grasped formulas. Thus the deeper meaning is extracted from
the apparently meaningless occurrence. But the meaning
which the Deuteronomists found in the history of Israel was
determined by thoroughly religious factors: Yahweh speaks to
his people through the events. The good or the bad fate
accorded the nation shows it whether or not it is on the right
path. In this way Israel is guided by God's hand and admonished and warned by God's voice. It is Israel's own fault if it
22
stumbles and falls. In Deuteronomic reflection, as in prophetic

reflection, history is due to divine providence.
IV
The books of Samuel and Kings were split into two parts only
at a late stage; originally there was just one book of Samuel
and one book of Kings. Part of the text is unfortunately
transmitted in very poor condition and is corrupt at many
points, not only through accidental deterioration but also
through intentional revisions. A number of scholars assume
that the sources evident in the Hexateuch also extend right
through the books of the Judges and the book of Samuel and
the book of Kings. But this view is hardly tenable. Apart from
1 Sam. 17.1-18.5, 20.1-21.1, 2 Samuel 1 and 1 Kgs 11.14-43,
'sources' are nowhere to be found. The concept of a source
requires that the verses separated from their incompatible
context can be joined together into a unity and that at least in
some places living organisms can be brought to light. But
above all, we may only speak of a source when the additions
that are removed as such have a content that is at variance
with their context. Thus when we have only isolated
contradictions, or even simply repetitions, which applies to the
books of Samuel and Kings, we are more probably dealing with
manuscript variants. We must assume that the text of these
books once had an extremely varied form in the different
manuscripts. This is confirmed by the Septuagint, which represents a special recension and which has transmitted much
else with varying degrees of accuracy. Then the Hebrew
manuscripts were at some time compared with each other,
and the variants were not, in the manner of present-day
publications, given in the margin, but in the continuous text. In
addition, there are many complements that seem also to have
been added to the original text in the course of a comprehensive revision. They have arisen from an over-pedantic need
for clarity. While the oldest narrators name the subject and
object as infrequently as possible, almost too seldom, and make
very great demands on the understanding of the audience, the
copyists have generally inserted the missing word into the
text. But in so doing they have gone far beyond the necessary
and by their constant repetitions of self-evident names and

objects have spoilt many a beautiful narrative. Artistic taste as
well as respect for the authors demand that these complements be removed. Since they are not always discernible with
certainty, the decision rests, as with any improvement of the
tradition, on the sensitivity of the scholar.
DAVID AND BATHSHEBA
2 Samuel 10.1-12.31
Introduction
Part I
Part II
Conclusion
The War with the Ammonites (10.1-11.1)

David and Bathsheba (11.2-27a)
David and Nathan (11.27b-12.25)
The Conquest of Kabbah (12.26-31)
The War with the Ammonites

and the Conquest ofRabbah
The introduction and the conclusion to this section (10.1-11.1;
12.26-31) form a unity in content and style which is quite distinct from the middle part between them; originally it will
have circulated on its own. All details are subordinated to the
overall plan, which is to give a general view of David's conflicts
with the Ammonites. In comparison with other contemporary
war reports, here we are dealing with an excellent history
narrative. For whereas usually only those individual sections
are selected that have arrested the attention of the popular
narrator, here we gain a real insight into the whole course of
the campaign, whose main stages are clearly indicated.
The Introduction(10.1-5) names the cause of the war, but
perhaps does not quite correspond to the facts, since it onesidedly heaps all the blame on the Ammonites. On the death of
King Nahash, who was prevented by Saul from conquering
Jabesh in Gilead (1 Sam. 11), David sent a special delegation to
express his sympathy to Hanun, the king's sona custom
already presupposed in the Amarna letters and already in use
as an expression of friendship between allied peoples (so also
1 Kgs 5.15). It may be doubted whether Hanun was moved
only by mistrust, but in any case he dishonoured David's
24
envoys. The oriental man is particularly proud of his beard;

even to grasp hold of it is a serious insult,1 let alone to cut off
one side of it! A similar humiliation could also be inflicted on an
Arab delegation,2 and there is also an attested instance, relating to prisoners of war, of clothing being cut off at the waist
(Isa. 20.4). This amounted to a declaration of war.
The first campaign (2 Sam. 10.6-14) ended with a battle
before the walls of the Ammonite capital Kabbah, later
Philadelphia, today again called Amman (= Ammon), situated
on the upper Jabbok, the present-day Nahr Ezzerka. Since the
Ammonites felt too weak on their own, they had recruited
large numbers of mercenaries from among the Aramaeans.
Ammon, which reached about as far as the Yarmuk, was
joined by its northern neighbours, the Aramaeans, previously
the Geshurites, then further north Maachah at the foot of
Mount Hermon, Zobah (subject to Ashurbanipal) and Rehob
in the region of Damascus, while Ish-tob (= Tob? Judg. 11.3)
seems to have been further to the east. The Israelites, in danger of attack on two sidesthey were thus positioned to the
north of the city, with the city to the south of them and the
Aramaeans approaching from the northsplit up and, filled
with a courageous trust in God, defeated their opponents. The
Aramaeans fled and the Ammonites retreated into the security of the city, which Joab was not equipped to besiege.
In the second campaign (10.15-19), which can hardly have
taken place in the same year, David personally confronted the
Aramaeans, who had regrouped and recruited reinforcements from Hadadezer's country beyond the Euphrates, that
is Aram Naharaim, called Mitanni in the Amarna letters,
which is identical with Mesopotamia. David defeated them at
Helam, probably located in the upper reaches of the Yarmuk,
killed their commander Shobach and concluded a peace with
the Aramaeans. It is doubtful whether they immediately
submitted (v. 19). But at that time Toi, king of Hamath in the
province of Zobah, another Aramaean prince and opponent of
Hadadezer, sent his son Joram to David with rich gifts to congratulate him on his victory over Hadadezer (8.9, 10). The
1. Cf. Palastina-Jahrbuch, II, p. 70.
2. Ibn Attir 8.360; cf. also Herod. 2.121; Musil 3.161; Janssen, p. 95.
25
information that David had set up overseers1 in Damascus

and its area (8.6) is usually held to be an exaggeration. After
this dangerous opposition had been removed, David could hope
to deal with the Ammonites more easily.
So the command of the third campaign (11.1; 12.26-31)
David again left to Joab. The latter set out in the spring, 'when
kings go forth to battle'. In winter, during the rainy season,
armies stay at home; but in April, when harvest-time
approaches and with it the promise of a rich booty, it is time to
move out again. Joab succeeded in storming the most secure
part of the city, the fortress, which controlled the rich stream
on the north side, being connected with it by means of a subterranean canal (Polybius 5.71)hence it was called simply
'the city of waters'. As the inhabitants were consequently cut
off from their water supply, the main part of the job was done.
However, in order that the glory should pass to Davidthe
naming of the name originally has a legal significance and
designates the ownerhe was called, and he completed what
Joab had begun. According to the once usual translation (cf.
Luther), the captives were tortured to death in the most
horrific way, but the Hebrew expressions do not favour this
interpretation. Rather, the numerous implements associated
with the brick moulds suggest that the Ammonites had to
work as masons and bricklayers; the picks were used to hack
out and break up the clay, and the axes and saws to split the
stones and timbers (1 Kgs 7.9). According to his inscription,
King Mesha of Moab used the captive Israelites in the same
way, to dig trenches. Of the items of booty only the most valuable, the jewel-encrusted crown of Milkom, the God of the
Ammonites, is mentioned. Milkom, another form of Melek
(Moloch), characterizes the god as the 'king* (of the land),
while the Canaanites were accustomed to using the title Baal,
lord' (of the land). The weight of the crown, 59 kg, will be just
as exaggerated as that of the Midianite gold rings (28 kg)
which Jerubbaal took as booty (Judg. 8.26).
1. RSV 'garrisons'.
26
David and Bathsheba (11.2-27a)

Into the account of the Ammonite war a middle piece has been
inserted, which is different in content and style. For whereas
the former unit reports political events in a concise, almost all
too concise, form, the latter treats personal experiences with
an agreeable breadth. There the eye is caught by the facts of
the story, here by the depiction of the characters. In the present, extant form of the section, the Ammonite war does indeed
form the introduction and the conclusion but this was not
originally the case, because it is described in too much detail
and is too self-contained. On the other hand the middle piece is
completely incomprehensible without that framework, and
cannot have circulated without it; thus the piece must be
younger than the history narrative of the Ammonite war, and
this is confirmed by the relative length of its units. The psychological depth of the characters gives it (like 1 Sam. 25) the
stamp of the novella.
This still does not answer the question of the provenance of
the material, however, which will require separate treatment
in the respective cases of the Bathsheba and the Nathan
episodes.
The Introduction (11.2-4) knows of a secret love-scene in
David's palace, related reticently in spite of all its plainness,
giving only absolutely necessary information. From the roof of
his palace the king can look into the courtyards of the houses
situated further down the hill-side; there he sees a beautiful
woman bathing (like Susanna) and sends for her. Such is the
custom of eastern rulers. A magical formula in the pyramid of
the Egyptian king Una includes the revealing words: 'So he
takes away wives from their husbands, to wherever he wants,
whenever the fancy takes him'.1 What is true of the dead
Pharaoh is also recorded of the living one, at least in the saga
(Gen. 12.15). In the Germanic saga these motifs are very
scarce;2 the orient is more lustful than the Occident. It is
expressly added that Bathsheba had just become clear of her
(sexual) impurity, in order to emphasize that there can be no
doubt as to David's paternity, as every husband knows. The
1. E. Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums (2nd edn), 1.2, p. 142.
2. R.M. Meyer, Religionsgeschichte, p. 319.
intrigue does not begin until the consequences of the adultery

become noticeable.
Part I (11.5-13) reports how David makes a vain attempt to
cover up. Suspense is skilfully awakened in the audience by
Bathsheba's message to David. Now it is up to the king to avert
punishment from her and shame from himself. How will
David manage to extricate himself from this tricky situation?
It is not without cause that he has a reputation for cunning
(1 Sam. 23.22). But his cleverly conceived plan to make Uriah
himself appear to be the father of the child, by shamefacedly
requesting him to go home and 'wash his feet', comes to grief
when he refuses to spend a night with his wife: Uriah wants to
be no better off than his comrades, who are camping in the
open, or, according to a variant reading, dwelling in tents, far
from their wives. David dare not repeat his order for fear of
arousing suspicion, but grants him his wish to sleep in the
palace porch. Although the king has promised to send him
back the next day, he makes a second, more determined
attempt to arouse Uriah's yearning for his wife by plying him
with good food and drink. But still Uriah is unswayed. The
attention of the audience is now at a peak: Will David find
another way out, or will he risk a court scandal?
Since all moderate means are exhausted, in Part II (11.1425), the narrator has him go to extremes. The king commands
Joab in a letter to storm the besieged city, and slips in, by the
way, the instruction that Uriah the Hittite should be entrusted
with an especially honourable position, where he will be able to
prove his bravery. Joab understands his lord's discreet wink
and has Uriah's death announced to him in a special message.
Nor does Joab blurt it out either, but gives express instructions
that the news that among others Uriah also has fallen should
only be appended, as the most painful occurrence, at the end of
his account. He knows his lord, and knows what he wants to
hear. Thus he can also accurately calculate his emotions in
advance. When at last David has learned the desired news, he
can breathe a sigh of relief. His inner agitation is very finely
drawn by means of the change of mood: first he is enraged; but
when the decisive word is spoken he immediately calms down
and speaks extremely kindly. Now he even gives his general a
word of advice and consoles him with his reference to the well-
28
known example of Jerubbaal (Judg. 9.50ff.). This consolation is

the climax in the two men's devious game, although in the
present text its finesse is admittedly spoilt by the clumsy addition at the beginning (11.15; for a similar case cf. 1 Kgs 21.10)1
and by other derangements of the text. If David had openly
said what he wanted, he would not have needed to encourage
his general after the event.
The Conclusion (11.26-27a) shows David with his wishes
realized; Bathsheba becomes his wife and bears him a son.
The narrator's technique is quite brilliant. He knows how to
send his audience into breathless suspense, both in the first
part and the second part. Delicate matters are so sensitively
circumlocuted that one cannot be offended by them, indeed so
much so that sometimes they are hardly noticed at all. The
quiet way in which wicked thoughts creep about in the dark is
inimitably drawn in the 'Uriah-letter' as well as in Joab's
message. From a purely aesthetic point of view one has to
admire David's art in trying to extricate himself from the
'affair'. The almost boundless licence of the despot, limited only
by the effort at least publicly to preserve decency, has been
learnt from real life, as has the henchman-obedience of his
servants, who, attendant on the merest wink, are capable of
picking up any hint. This classic example teaches us how easy
it was for David to gain an 'oracle' from his priest to remove
the politically dangerous sons of Saul out of his way, and how
Joab is unscrupulous enough to dispose of Uriah in order to
make possible the satisfaction of the king's personal whim.
Although the narrative fully gives the impression of being
drawn from life, it still has to be deemed a saga when it is realized that the Uriah-letter motif is widespread elsewhere: in
Homer (Iliad 6.156f), in Shakespeare (Hamlet V.2), in Somadeva (Brockhaus, pp. 16f.), in the Russian popular fairy-tale
(Dietrich, p. 90; other examples in Gunkel, Marchen, p. 132).
But such traits are not attributed to every king, and David
would hardly have been given such a damaging reputation if
1. Translator's note: Gressmann's translation places v. 21a-c
between v. 25a and 25b. Verse 24a is followed by: Then David became
angry with Joab and said to the messenger, "Why did you go so near
the city? Did you not know that they would shoot from the wall?" The
messenger answered him..."
29
there had been no reason to do so. In his own lifetime David

was already Israel's favourite and later became more and
more idolized, unlike Saul, who was increasingly despised.
Thus the Chronicler excised the Bathsheba episode from the
life of David because he found it simply too objectionable.
David and Nathan (11.27b-12.25)
It is, however, quite out of the question that the preceding narrative of Bathsheba should ever have ended in the way that,
for the sake of clarity, has hitherto been supposed. For, to begin
with, one expects to be told at least the name of the son born to
David at that time, in case he did not die young. Now some
scholars have linked 11.27 with 12.24b and deleted everything
in between, so that Solomon would be the son issuing from the
adultery. This is impossible for various reasons, but especially
because one must first learn how the narrator feels about
David's actions and in what direction he wants to influence his
audience. Though it is not good style to express a judgment
directly, it is good style to hint at it indirectly. Hence a sequel is
absolutely necessary. Other scholars consider only Nathan's
appearance not to be original and thus delete 11.27b12.15a as
a later addition, probably correctly so.
The parable is taken from the everyday life of the people;
here it presents a legal case (cf. 2 Sam. 14; Isa. 5) which it is for
the king to judge. As in the German fairy-tale (Grimm, no.
89), for Hebrew tastes also the culprit must speak his own
verdict against himself (1 Kgs 20.40; cf. also Herodotus 3.32).
The moving narrative with its exaggerated affection for animals, which ill befits Uriah's relationship to his wife, castigates
only the violent action of the pitiless rich man; but David has
not only taken the poor man's sheep, but on top of that has
killed the man. Thus the parable was not composed for the
present case but was already available and was subsequently
inserted into this context. This also explains how the death
sentence against David comes to be mitigated: *You yourself
shall not die, but your child'; Nathan's judgment originally
ran thus, probably because there was a historical justification
for this. When the child born of David's intercourse with
Bathsheba died, this was seen as the just punishment for the
30
king's sin, and an appropriate threat was placed on the

prophet's lips. If Nathan did not say such a thing, which no
one had any way of knowing, in the narrator's opinion he
really should have done so. The other 'predictions after the
event' must be deemed later additions: the constant family
quarrels (v. 10) and Absalom's shameful conduct in publicly
making his father's concubines his own harem, during his
father's lifetime (w. llf.; cf. 16.22). Since the whole section is a
late interpolation, nothing of any historical certainty can be
learned from it concerning the figure of Nathan. But it does
seem as though the prophetic movement took control of internal politics at an early period and judged the king's actions by
religious standards; perhaps even in given circumstances it
was not afraid to interfere in the affairs of the ruler. A
remarkable, and admittedly still inadequately explained,
counterpart to this saga's Nathan is found in Ipuwer the wise,
who dares to throw the charge *You have spoken lies' in the
Egyptian king's face.1
With the child's death (12.15b-23) the narrative steers back
to the older version. David's notion of seeking to influence the
deity by his fasting, weeping and prostration and by his
mourning clothes is a widespread one throughout the whole of
the ancient world. From this we learn that people generally
used to give such a meaning to mourning customs, but it may
be doubted whether this was also their original significance. It
is understandable, too, that David washes and anoints himself,
dressing in clean clothing to go into the sanctuary; on the
entrance to the inner temple rooms of Egypt was written: 'Let
everyone who enters here be pure'.2 And yet David's behaviour is peculiar, because he does the opposite of what is usually
done: the customs of mourning, which normally come after
the death, he performs in advance of it, and thus champions
the right to personal freedom over against the restrictiveness
of a convention that was even mightier then than it is today.
The account reveals how David's inner struggles begin to cap1. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alien Testament (2nd edn; Berlin, 1926-27), I, p. 210.
2. A. Erman, Die agyptische Religion(2nd edn; Berlin, 1909), p. 86;
numerous 'purity regulations in the Greek cult' in Wachter, pp. 10-15.
31
tivate the narrator's attentionthe king in his despair is even

thought capable of taking his own life. Nothing is said here
about any penitence of David such as should be expected after
Nathan's appearance: thus we now have confirmation that
the parable is foreign to the original text. But the king is not
frivolous either; he first wrestles for his child before submitting
to that which cannot be altered. The narrator, on the other
hand, even if he does not explicitly say so, sees the child's death
as a just punishment for David's guilt. The conclusion (12.2425) reports the birth of Solomon, who is said to receive the
appellation Jedidiah, 'beloved of Yahweh'.
AMNON AND ABSALOM
2 Samuel 13.1-14.33
Structure
Part I
Part II
Part III
The Rape of Tamar by Amnon (13.1-22)

Absalom's Revenge on Amnon (13.23-38)
Absalom's Pardon (13.39-14.33)
1. Analysis
Part I (13.1-22) reports Amnon's wicked deed against his

half-sister Tamar. Amnon, David's eldest son, was the offspring of Ahinoam of Jezreel, while Absalom and Tamar were
children of Maacah, a daughter of the Aramaean-Geshurite
king Talmai (3.2f.). Marriage between half-brothers and halfsisters was not in the least unusual among the Phoenicians
and Semites, and was also considered permissible among the
Israelites of the time of David. For Tamar expressly challenges Amnon to ask David for her hand, which he will certainly not refuse. Later, such marriages were forbidden (Deut.
27.22; Lev. 18.9; 20.17) but nonetheless still occurred now and
again (Ezek. 22.11).
Scene 1 (w. 1-5) is enacted by Amnon and Jonadab. The
crown prince, whose sleepless nights have caused him to
waste away, bewails his lovesickness to his friend, since he
does not know on what clever pretext he can entice Tamar,
who lives in a special house with Absalom, into his own palace;
he thinks it impossible to get near her since, as a virgin, she is
32
well protected. It seems that princesses were subject to a

stricter custom than was otherwise the case; even in presentday Palestine, Islamic prescriptions are maintained much
more strictly by well-to-do city girls than by the common
country girls, who have considerably greater freedom of
movement. The counsel of Jonadab, son of Shimeah
(= Shammah, 1 Sam. 16.9) rests on the custom also permitted
among the ancient Arabs, that the sick may receive female
visitors. But elsewhere also sickness is frequently feigned in
order to lure a lover to one's bedside.1
In order to get no one but Tamar to come, Amnon, we are
told, expresses his wish for a special kind of cake which that
princess alone can bake so well. The food in question may be
medicine in the form of a cake (Gunkel). The cunningly conceived plan of Jonadab and Amnon succeeds, as Scene 2 (w. 610) emphasizes. First, the royal father appears, enquiring
after the condition of his ostensibly sick son. He is quite prepared, without reservation, to grant Amnon's request, in line
with the still widespread axiom that the sick must be allowed
to have their way; they themselves have a feeling for what is
in their own best interests. Tamar, too, is quite unsuspecting,
prepares the heart-shaped cakes in the bedroom and gives
them to Amnon to eat. It is taken for granted that no servants
are present. According to a variant, the servants are expressly
dismissed; furthermore, Tamar has not baked the cakes in the
bedroom but in an ante-room, only then bringing them into
the inner chamber. In this case one has to assume that Amnon
has a good view of the ante-room from his couch.
Scene 3 (vv. 11-17) forms the climax of Part I. What the
narrator thinks of Amnon's behaviour is revealed in the words
he places on Tamar's lips. Only scoundrels perpetrate such
wicked deeds in Israel. At least the seducer could have
redeemed himself by subsequent marriage, instead of throwing the girl into the street after gratifying his lusts! This rough
conduct witnesses to the fact that Amnon was not moved by
any deep, inner affection but was swept along by a flood of sensual passion that was over as quickly as it had come. The sudden change from love into hatred is the ancient narrator's
1. P. Wendland, De fabellis antiquis (Gottingen, 1911).
simple but effective means of depicting the troubled spirit of a

libertine.
As Scene 4 (w. 18-22) shows, Amnon's deed has no immediate consequences. Tamar returns to her brother Absalom's
house with gestures of mourning and despair (Jer. 2.37), and
he realizes at once that Amnon has 'been with her' and has
violated her; and there she remains childless and unmarried
for the rest of her life. David, who hears of the matter, in misguided weakness towards Amnon, his firstborn and favourite,
does not venture to intervene. Only Absalom's broody silence
prepares for the revenge to follow. But initially he hides his
hatred and waits for a favourable opportunity. An interpolation (v. 18) which was superfluous for contemporaries and has
got into the wrong position in the text, as it belongs to v. 19, tells
us about the sleeved garments that were the traditional costume of unmarried princesses (and presumably of princes, too;
cf. Gen. 37.3). Unlike usual garments which had no sleeves
and reached to the knees, they were designed with sleeves and
reached to the ankles. As a sign of mourning, it was customary
to grip the garments at the neck and tear them with some
force.
At last, after two years, so Scene 1 of Part II (vv. 23-27)
reports, the time comes for retribution. Absalom uses the
sheep-shearing festival on his estates as a pretext to invite all
the princes of the royal house, Amnon of course being duty
bound to attend with them. Though the king is slightly suspicious, he nonetheless gives his sons permission to go with Absalom. Baal Hazor, present-day El-'Asur north of Bethel near
the unknown Ephron, was a remote hill-sanctuary in Absalom's pasture land, where there was absolutely no hope of
escape. From there the road leads southwards to Jerusalem;
immediately to the north of the city it leads into the road to
Horonaim, present-day Bet 'Ur, situated north-west of Jerusalem. From the 'hillside' in the text (v. 34) one descends to the
city.1
Scene 2 (w. 28, 29) briefly describes the rich feast, in the
course of which Amnon, lulled into a sense of security by the
two-year interval, is murdered on his brother's orders. Thus
1. Palastina-Jahrbuch, IX, pp. 15f.
34
the wicked deed is atoned for, since in the Israelite view

Amnon is deserving of death (Lev. 20.17). In Scene 3 (w. 3038) the narrator gives more detailed attention to David, who
has to go through a worrying time when the exaggerated
rumour of the deaths of all the princes overtakes him. But
although Amnon alone has fallen, the king mourns deeply.
Absalom fears his punishment and flees to his grandfather
Talmai in Geshur, on whose protection he can count.
Three years have passed. The king's temper has become
open to milder sentiments. He has consoled himself over
Amnon's death, but can still not decide to call Absalom back
because his duty to execute blood revenge hinders him. And so,
according to Part III (13.39-14.33) Joab undertakes to overturn the king's views on blood revenge and to move him to
pardon Absalom, through the offices of a 'wise woman' of
Tekoa, present-day Teku, birthplace of the prophet Amos.
David accedes, but forbids Absalom to come into his presence.
Not until two years later can Joab bring about a complete reconciliation between father and son, which is sealed with a kiss.
But it takes the burning of his fields for Joab to be forced to
appear before Absalom, rather like the way Bismarck summoned his servant by a pistol shot.
An addition (14.25-27), which would be better placed at the
end of the whole narrative, contains reliable information about
Absalom and his family. The weight of his hair (3 kg) is exaggerated, but there may already have been a 'royal weight' in
ancient Israel, just as there was in Assyria or later in Persia.
While according to 18.18 he had no children, here he is credited with three sons and a daughter, which is certainly the
correct information. The notice as to the beauty of this Tamar
can only derive from a contemporary source. That she
became Rehoboam's wife, and thus the ancestress of the royal
line of Judah, is confirmed by 1 Kgs 15.2 (where she is mistakenly called Maacah; in fact Maacah was Absalom's mother).
This narrative, in which some scholars wrongly see mythic
motifs, thus spans a period of seven years. There can be not the
slightest doubt as to its historicity, even if details are influenced
by artistic fantasy. The conversations between Amnon and
Tamar, between the king and the woman, and perhaps other
features too, are thus invented. The narrative is given novella-
like depth. Noticeable everywhere is the concern to penetrate

the mind of the heroes. But more important are the first tentative attempts to describe internal processes. Since these previously found expression only in the actions of the heroes and
had to be guessed at by the listener, something new in principle
is being pioneered here. This can be observed particularly
easily in the case of Amnon. In older times the facts would
simply have been reportedhow Amnon seduces Tamar and
then has her thrown into the street. But now there is a concern to explain this behaviour psychologically in terms of the
alternation of love and hatred, and thus to facilitate the listener's interpretation of the facts. The manifestations of the
emotional life begin to be a problem and thus in the time of
David prepare for the birth of the novella, which was to produce what may be considered its ripest fruit in the later book of
Ruth. But here already the characters stand out clearly. In a
few strokes Amnon is depicted as a libertine undeserving of
sympathy. Nor does the darkly resolute Absalom shrink from
using any means in achieving his goal. When he has a field of
barley burnt in order to induce Joab to visit him, this is the
kind of trick that only oriental princes can afford to make
with impunity, but at the same time it reveals his Bismarcklike nature. His passion is even more powerfully in evidence
when he does not even shrink from infringing the sacrosanct
law of hospitality (like Jael, Judg. 5.24ff.), in order to avenge
the violation of his sister. In the end David appears as a weakling whose wild sons have become too much for him and who
lets inopportune leniency govern his dealings with them.
There is no contextual connection with what has gone before;
rather, the narrative makes a fresh start. David's domestic
misfortune is not here considered to be a consequence of his
adultery with Bathsheba, nor as a punishment for it (despite
12.10ff.).
2. Blood revenge
In statessuch as present-day Turkey,1 for examplewhich

have no impartial authority protecting the law and executing
1. Translator's note: The author's comments concerning contemporary Turkey and Palestine were made in 1910.
36
judgments, blood revenge is a necessary and salutary custom;

for without it the individual would be outlawed. In Palestine
today, even without police, one is safer from being murdered
than in our country. Everyone guards against killing because
blood requires more blood. This unbreakable law, which ultimately rests on religious ideas, can always become a danger
where it prevails in its full rigour and where blood revenge
may degenerate into blood feud. Even Bedouin Arab tribes,
when one of their number has been murdered, are not always
content with the death of the murderer but kill seven or more
members of his family, clan, or village, until they feel the
account is settled. And if counter-revenge should occur, endless bloodshed can ensue. However, in general the punishment
of the culprit or his next of kin is sufficiently just for the
revenge to cease on its own. Incidentally, nowadays blood
revenge does not occur when someone kills a person who has
violated his mother or his sister. As soon as an ordered state
system comes into being, the obligation of blood revenge begins
to be limited, or to be completely abolished. Mohammed set
restraints on it, just as in the Old Testament it was later
permitted only in the case of wilful murder (Exod. 21.12ff.;
Deut. 19.4ff.).
Now the present chapter is of particular interest by virtue of
its opposition to blood revenge. By murdering Amnon, Absalom
has become subject to blood revenge, from which he has
escaped by fleeing. If he returns, David must kill him, unless
he waives the execution of his duty. Joab desires that Absalom
be spared but does not dare to ask this of the king directly
because he fears his anger. Thus he takes an indirect course,
by calling a 'wise woman' from Tekoa who is unknown in
Jerusalem. She too is afraid of David, whose royal moods are
unpredictable. She therefore chooses, as is expressly pointed
out (14.15), the parable form, a story taken from human life,
in order to make clear to him covertly, first of all, the injustice
of his conduct; her talkativeness, which has the effect of
amusing the audience, can also be put down to fear, as can her
sycophantic flattery, which compares the king with the Angel
of Yahweh in his wisdom (v. 17). The parable takes as its
starting-point a particularly difficult case of blood revenge,
over which, in real life also, decisions were always divided. If
one brother murders anothersuch excesses of passion are

more comprehensible among the children of a widow than in
the father's lifetimethen this is such a serious infringement
of the natural order that blood revenge is called for unconditionally. On the other hand it is advisable to spare the murderer so as not to rob the family of more of its members, particularly if he is the only heir. Only grasping relatives insist on
blood revenge, as the inheritance then falls to them (Num.
27.11). The king agrees with the woman: where the heir of the
household has become liable to the dagger of the bloodavenger, it would be unjust to hand him over and thereby to
extinguish 'the last spark' in the family. To spare the murderer is a sin, however, since blood revenge is a divine duty, but
the woman expressly takes the blame upon herself and her
house. Thereupon with an oath David guarantees her son, the
murderer of his brother, complete impunity.
Thus the application of the parable is given too. The king's
decision in the case of the widow's son is valid also in Absalom's
case: the duty to maintain the family stands higher than the
duty to avenge the murder. We must all die and become like
water, which, once it has been poured on the ground, cannot be
retrieved; like our names, our souls also live on only in our
children. So God can no longer carry off the king's soul, if
David calls back his heir, in whom he himself lives on, out of
banishment. After Amnon's death Absalom had become heir to
the throne; so it was not only revenge, but envy also, that drove
him to murder. Since David was helpless, he made the best of a
bad job and restored Absalom to favour at the instigation of
Joab.1
1. Cf. Erwin Merz, Die Blutrache bei den Israeliten (Leipzig, 1916).
38
THE REVOLT OF ABSALOM AND SHEBA

2 Samuel 15.1-20.22
Structure
Introduction. The Preparation for Absalom's Revolt (15.1-12)
Part I. David's flight from Jerusalem (15.13-17.29 )
Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
Scene 5
Scene 6
Scene 7
Scene 8
Scene 9
Scene 10
Scene 11
Scene 12
David and his court (15.13-17)

David and Ittai (15.17b-23)
David and the priests (15.23b-29)
David and Hushai (15.30-37)
David and Ziba (16.1-4)
David and Shimei (16.5-14)
Absalom and Hushai (16.15-19)
Absalom and Ahithophel (16.20-23)
Ahitophel and Hushai (17.1-14)
Jonathan and Ahimaaz (17.15-22)
David pursued by Absalom (17.23-26)
David's arrival in Mahanaim (17.27-29)
Part II. David's conflict with Absalom (18.1-19.9a )

Scene
Scene
Scene
Scene
Scene
1
2
3
4
5
David and his army (18.1-6a)

The murder of Absalom (18.6b-18)
The messengers' race (18.19-23)
The news of the death (18.24-19.1)
David and Joab (19.2-9a)
Part III. David's return from Mahanaim (19.9b-41)

Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
The restoration of the king (19.9b-16)

The pardon of Shimei (19.17-24)
The pardon of Mephibosheth (19.25-31)
Barzillai's farewell (19.32-41)
Part IV. Sheba's revolt (19.42-20.22)

Scene 1
Scene 2
Scene 3
Scene 4
The conflict between Judaeans and Israelites (19.4220.2)

David and Amasa (20.3-7)
Joab and Amasa (20.8-13)
The death of Sheba (20.14-22)

1. Analysis
The Introduction (15.1-12) turns a spot-light on Absalom's

preparations for the revolt. When after Amnon's death he
became heir to the throne, he also expressed his eminence
publicly. A royal team of horses plus fifty footmen, who had to
run ahead of the chariot and double as bodyguards, were
thenceforward the symbol of the heir to the throne (1 Kgs 1.5;
14.27). Given the meagreness of the prevailing conditions,
such a hitherto unusual procession was certainly suited to
causing a stir. Absalom's ostentatious appearance, his physical
beauty and his captivating charm won him many supporters
among friends of David in high position as well as among
humble folk. The narrator illustrates in particular the graciously condescending affability with which Absalom, in secret
of course, took all the accused and discontented under his
wing. We are told he did this for four years until he believed
the moment for action had arrived, exactly as he had once
waited two years in order to be more sure of dealing Amnon
the death-blow. And again he used as a pretext a festival, as he
had nine years previously, this time in Hebron, his native
town. So as not to arouse any suspicion in David, he claimed he
had to pay a vow there; in antiquity people felt very closely
attached to the god of the locality in which they were born. In
reality, Absalom had selected Hebron as the centre of the
revolt because there he could most confidently count on support for his plans. For the local inhabitants saw him as one of
them and were so much the more disposed to help him
because they were jealous of Jerusalem after the transfer of
the royal residence. The conscripted men of Hebron and the
fifty footmen were joined by two hundred men of Jerusalem
whom Absalom had invitedrelatives and acquaintances
from the most elevated circles, who were certainly not ignorant of what was coming. In any case the contingent would
have been large enough not to have been forced against their
will into participation in the revolt. Ahithophel, whose wisdom
was legendary, is named as the most prominent of the conspirators. He had the title 'Counsellor of the King* (like our
'privy councillor') and lived in his home town of Gilo, perhaps
present-day Bedshala near Bethlehem. As Bathsheba's
grandfather he was an enemy of David (cf. 23.34 with 11.3).
40
Absalom had timed his attack well, as Part I (15.13-17.29)

reports. According to Scene 1 (15.13-17a) David was surprised
by the events. There was no question of defending Jerusalem,
not to mention of an attack on Absalom. True, the king had his
regular troops available, but they were too few in number. In
addition there was the danger that many of the men of
Jerusalem might go over to Absalom. There was no time to
summon the national army, for Absalom was already moving
closer with sinister speed. The only means of escaping the
hand of Absalom that was left open to David and his supporters was flight. Since the south was blocked by Absalom, and the
north by the Benjaminites, who were loyal to the house of Saul
and thus unreliable, and since the west was out of the question,
there was no alternative but to turn to the east. If one wanted
to save women and children from a cruel fate it was advisable
to take them along, even though flight was thereby made considerably more difficult. While the king did not separate from
his legitimate wives, he left ten concubines behind, probably
because he had no fears that any ill would befall them.
There now follows a series of artistically ordered glimpses,
distributed over the individual stages of the journey. So Scene 2
(15.17b-23a) is moved to the last house in Jerusalem, thus
immediately next to the city gate. This was the moment to tear
oneself away from the beloved home for unknown parts, perhaps never to return. The melancholy mood that overshadows
this picture is ideally suited to the position chosen for it. While
David stands still with his 'servants', i.e. the whole royal retinue, the troops march past him, the Cherethites and the
Pelethites (8.18; 15.18; 20.7, 23; 1 Kgs 1.38, 44; 1 Chron. 18.17)
at the fore. These were led by Benaiah and formed the king's
bodyguard. Their name is probably due to the fact that they
were 'Philistine-Cretan' mercenaries. They are followed by
Ittai with 600 Philistines from Gath and by a whole crowd of
women and children. They had only recently been banished,
and David will have been glad to grant them his protection as
they amounted to a not inconsiderable additional force. Israel's
ruler could certainly do with 600 men just now, but he feels
sorry for them and does not wish to subject them to the misery
of another flight. Strong-hearted, he wants to bear his fate
alone, and he selflessly orders them to go back into the city. But
they are no more preoccupied with their own interests than he

is and insist unselfishly on following their new mastera
stirring picture of the loyalty of foreign retainers in contrast to
the wayward son and the disloyal friends! 'And all the country
wept aloud.' David then crosses the Kidron valley, which lies to
the east of Jerusalem, intending to ascend the Mount of Olives.
There he encounters the priests with the Ark of Yahweh,
and Scene 3 (15.23b-29) is enacted. At first it seems odd that
the king should send the Ark back, as it guarantees the visible
(v. 25) presence of the deity. One is reluctant to let go of such a
symbol, still less does one present one's enemy with it. But
David wishes to have loyal people in the city, who might be able
to serve him as spies and inform him of Absalom's plans. Hard
as it is for him to do so, he makes a quick decision to part company with the Ark, so that at the same time the priests can also
remain in Jerusalem on a plausible pretext. It would be a disgrace for them to relinquish the sacred object entrusted to
their care, while Absalom will not be able to take exception to
their presence. The sons of the priests, as is reiterated later
(17.17), have been cautious enough not to return to the city
themselves, but remain hidden in the neighbourhood so as to
be able to keep David informed, who awaits them in the Tords
of the wilderness' (at the foot of the Judaean highlands on the
way to Jericho). And David's adherents travel on, like a
funeral procession, perhaps precisely in penitential procession,
on the road from Jerusalem to the Jordan. At that time, unlike
today, the road ran not through the valleys but along the
heights, like the Roman road. The king has only just heard
that Ahithophel is also among the conspirators, when he
reaches the top of the Mount of Olives and meets his 'friend'
Hushai the 'Archite' from Ephraim (Josh. 16.2) at the sanctuary.
Thus in Scene 4 (15.30-37) the narrator stresses the hand of
providence, which unites with David's presence of mind to
turn the misfortune into good. In spite of his flight the king has
not lost his head, but seeks to keep the strings in his hand and
outwit Absalom. Hushai too must therefore return to the city
and pretend to join the rebels. We gather fresh hope that
Yahweh will thwart Ahithophel's plan through him.
42
Even more distressing for David is the news of Mephibosheth's defection, which he receives on the other side of the
Mount of Olives in Scene 5 (16.1-4). It is with such base
ingratitude that Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, who eats
at David's court and owes him his life, repays the good deeds of
his royal master. But his servant Ziba has kept faith with
David and has come running, anxious to be of service, to take
care of the next emergency. Without wasting a word in anger,
David draws the consequences from the conduct of the two
men, rewarding one and punishing the other.
The painful trek reaches its climax at Bahurim, David's
Gethsemane, where Scene 6 (16.5-14) takes place. Bahurim is
to be found in the valley of Bukedan, three-quarters of an hour
away from Jerusalem.1 Here the long-suffering monarch has
to put up with the worst thing that could happen to him in this
situation. Shimei, also a relative of Saul, seeks to wound David
by throwing stones at him and casts a curse in his face,
whereby the disaster that has befallen him is portrayed as the
divine punishment for his bloody deeds to the house of Saul
(21.Iff.). The narrator certainly does not share this view, as
has been wrongly maintained; on the contrary, he sees in
Shimei's reproaches an unwarranted humiliation of the
sorely tested king. Piously submissive to the unsearchable will
of God, who has added this further misfortune to all the rest,
David rejects Abishai's desires for revenge and decides to do
without human aid. Yahweh has brought the misfortune upon
him, and Yahweh alone can take it away from him; perhaps
he will change the curse into blessing. This deeply moving
scene has a (superior) counterpart in the life of Jesus, the
greatest long-sufferer of all. A short concluding word reports
the escape, for the time being, of David and the host that has
fled with him (16.14). But they are still not in complete safety.
Will Absalom catch them up before they have crossed the Jordan?
So in the three subsequent scenes the narrator turns back to
Absalom. Scene 7 (16.15-19) describes Hushai's meeting with
the insurgents. Since he has left David on the summit of the
Mount of Olives and immediately moves into Jerusalem with
1. Palastina-Jahrbuch, V, p. 76.
Absalom (15.37), the underlying presupposition is that the

king has only just managed to escape. Half an hour, or at the
latest one hour, after David's departure Absalom is already
master of the city.
On the advice of Ahithophel, as Scene 8 (16.20-23) shows,
Absalom immediately takes over the king's harem. The bridal
chamber is erected on the palace roof, so that the proceedings
take place in public view. This measure, as a state action,
signifies an official accession to power, but is nonetheless an
insult to his father. Ahithophel pressed for this on purpose, in
order to encourage the rebels. For, since there can now be no
further possibility of reconciliation they need have no fear of
being handed over to David's revenge by Absalom himself.
In Scene 9 (17.1-14) the conspirators' council of war
assembles. While Ahithophel draws up a plan to suit Absalom's
situation, insisting on a swift pursuit of the fugitives, Hushai
endeavours to gain time for David. In his short, well-illustrated speech, he is able so impressively to present, first, the
heroism of the king, who can go day and night without rest
and who is ready at any point to stage an ambush, and then
the serious consequences of a defeat at the beginning of the
war, that he successfully confounds the clever advice of
Ahithophel. In this way Yahweh helps the pious king and
plunges Absalom into ruin. Again, the hand of providence is
explicitly stressed.
In three further scenes David's definitive escape is then
completed. Scene 10 (17.15-22) describes the messenger service, which despite the hasty flight has been set up perfectly,
and which bears witness to David's clever circumspection.
From Hushai the message reaches the two priests of the Ark,
and from there, by the agency of a maid, it reaches the priests'
two sons who are waiting in front of the city. The Rogel spring,
probably the present-day 'Job's Spring5, lies to the south of
Jerusalem at the point where the Kidron and the Hinnom
valleys meet. It is not unthinkable, despite the short space of
time, that David was informed several times, as the messengers could reach him en route also. In the end, the two couriers would almost have been caught if they had not found a safe
hiding-place in the open well of a farmstead. In that same
44
night David crosses over the Jordan and has already arrived
in Mahanaim when his son is just crossing the river.
In Scene 11 (17.23-26) the fate awaiting Absalom casts its
dark shadow before it. Ahithophel knows the unhappy end of
the revolt in advance and hangs himself in order to escape the
threatening punishmenta course customary among the
Egyptians as well as the Assyrians, and an understandable one
in the light of the cruelty of ancient times. Meanwhile suicides,
for other reasons too, seem not to have been unusual at that
time, and even such a one as David was considered capable of
an attempt on his life, following the death of his child (12.18).
In contrast to the previous scene, Scene 12 (17.27-29) calls
attention to the friendly reception prepared for the king in
Mahanaim. Shobi, the vassal prince of the Ammonites,
Hanun's brother, and envoys of the cities situated on the Aramaean border and indebted to David have arrived to supply
the fugitives with their basic needs. When David had to leave
Jerusalem in the lurch he did not know where he would lay
his head. Now in foreign parts he is accorded more love than
at home. Thus the day that followed those shocking scenes
ends with a promising picture for Israel's king.
Without any indication of time or any more exact data about
the rallying of an army, Part II (18.1-19.9a) jumps straight to
David's battle against Absalom, but even here the narrator
confines himself almost entirely to personal matters. In Scene
1 (18.1-6a) the rough warriors' moving care for their elderly
ruler is stressed: they prevent him from going into battle with
them and putting his precious life at risk. David's tender heart
still beats for his wayward son and in the presence of all he
enjoins leniency for him on his military leaders. When Absalom is later so shamefully treated, this is against David's
express orders.
Scene 2 (18.6b-18) puts the defeat of the enemy down to the
terrain. The countryside in Gilead, now called Adshlun, is, to
European taste, the most beautiful in Palestine. At times one
feels one is in the Thiiringen highlands; the trees are not so
diminutive or so few and far between as one is accustomed to
elsewhere in Palestine, but form real forests, even impenetrable primaeval forests, where the tree-trunks reach a height of
up to ten to twenty metres. A high proportion is made up by
the evergreen oaks, whose thorns make the misfortune that

befell Absalom understandable; the Abyssinian king Tacla
Maimanoth II was also left hanging like this, through carelessness, by his hair and his coat, on the branch of a gandaffa
tree.1 The narrow forest paths even now sometimes compel
the rider to duck down in order to escape Absalom's fate. In
some places loose boulders block the way, lending the area an
almost wild beauty. It is totally unsuitable for the deployment
of a battle array, however, and it is easy for the forest to 'to
devour more men than the sword'.2 A huge pile of stones is
heaped up over Absalom's body, as in the case of a criminal
(Josh. 7.26; 8.29), in order to protest against any association
with him, and also to despise him in his death.3
According to Scene 3 (18.19-23), Ahimaaz volunteers to take
the news of Absalom's death to David, but Joab is unwilling to
let him go because he fears for his life. While joyful news is
customarily rewarded with 'messenger bread', among the
Arabs with milk, the bearer of bad tidings is struck down in the
hope of hitting the message itself and thus repelling it.4 In the
race that follows, Ahimaaz overtakes the negro, even though
he covers a longer distance. For to have crossed the Jordan
river he must first have descended the slopes of the Adshlun in
a westerly direction and then have climbed up eastwards onto
the mountain range. If the 'Forest of Ephraim' is to be found
at some considerable distance from Mahanaim, such a diversion might have been worthwhile.
With high drama, Scene 4 (18.24-19.1) describes the conveyance of the news of Absalom's death. On hearing of the
approach of the two runners the king is put in a joyful frame
of mind, since he can expect good news. Ahimaaz is better than
Joab thought he would be at preparing David for the worst.
The worried question concerning Absalom, whom he tenderly
calls a 'lad', shows that David at heart is interested only in his
fate. He has barely heard of his end when the harsh pain of
1. J. Bruce, Reise zur Entdeckung der Quellen des Nils, VII, p. 3.
2. Palastina-Jahrbuch, I, pp. 48ff., IV, pp. 119ff.
3. Cf. Rudolf Hirzel, Die Strafe der Steinigung (Leipzig, 1909).
4. Examples in Hirzel, p. 249; E. Littmann,Arabische BeduinenErzahlungen (Strassburg, 1908), p. x.
46
fatherly love breaks through. In the meantime, kings have

even less right to lose their composure than other mortals.
David has to be told this by Joab in Scene 5 (19.2-9a); Joab
personifies the relentless state necessity, and, as in the murder
of Absalom, here again he serves David's cause better than
David himself. Again a wonderfully effective picture worth
reflecting on: on one hand the tender, warm-blooded king with
a broken heart, on the other the grim, steely vassal whose
hands are dripping with bloodGunther and Hagen! Joab has
his way, but from this point on he has fallen into disgrace.
Since the rebellion has been put down, there is no longer
anything to prevent David's return to Jerusalem, which takes
up Part III (19.9b-41). But having first been forced to flee, the
king now wants to return only at the express wish of all concerned and demands to be brought back in honour.
Scene 1 (19.9b-16) is especially important for a general
assessment of Absalom's revolt from the historical point of
view. Northern Israel is immediately ready to bring David
home, while the Judaeans hesitate and have first to be pressed
by their king. This is only understandable if the Judaeans, in
view of their preference for Absalom, cannot count on their
pardon for sure, while such misgivings are not to be found
with the northern Israelites. According to the received data,
among Absalom's followers were inhabitants of Hebron and
discontented inhabitants of Jerusalem and northern Israel.
The Benjaminites came from northern Israel; though they
only formed a fraction of the opposition, as friends and relatives of Saul they were sworn enemies of David. The driving
force of the revolt was only in part the ambition of the crown
prince who would not wait for his ruling father to die, which
was hardly a rare occurrence in the ancient world. For when
Absalom was dead, Sheba continued the struggle. So Absalom
was only an instrument of hatred in the hand of the Benjaminites, and the insurrection in the final analysis was due to
the political tribal conflicts between northern and southern
Palestine.
As a counterpiece to the confrontations in Part I, distributed
over various points between Jerusalem and Bahurim, here
three scenes are placed next to one another, all of which take
place on the west bank of the Jordan. While the mass of
47
Judaeans and Benjaminites waits at Gilgal near Jericho, the

zealous Ziba (16.Iff.) has brought David with his family across
the ford. David is met first of all by Shimei.
Scene 2 (19.17-24) bears witness to the magnanimity of
David, who is not to be led astray by the tempter Abishai. Even
though Shimei has dealt him the most serious of insults and
cursed him as a man of blood (16.5ff.), David pardons him,
thus returning good for evil.
According to Scene 3 (19.25-31), the conciliatory mood the
king is in proves useful also to Mephibosheth, Jonathan's son,
who has cut neither his nails nor his moustache as a sign of his
mourning over David's misfortune, and who in order to
cleanse himself of all guilt has accused his servant of treachery. Though David does not trust him, he leaves the matter
uninvestigated.
In Scene 4 (19.32-41) he takes his leave of Barzillai. He
would like to thank him for the many services rendered him,
but the elderly Barzillai modestly declines and in his unselfishness desires nothing for himself, asking only that his son
Chimham be well cared for. A touching picture of sincere
loyalty!
The king has not yet arrived in Jerusalem when a new rebellion breaks out, which is the subject of Part IV (19.4220.22). The narrator has intertwined Sheba's revolt with
Absalom's so firmly, that they each encroach on the other.
Already at Gilgal between Jericho and the Jordanthis is presupposed in Scene 1 (19.42-20.2)the jealous strife between
northern Israelites and Judaeans is kindled anew. Though the
Judaeans deny having enjoyed any advantages for their tribe
from the kingship of David, such as having eaten at the king's
table (1 Kgs 18.19) or having been brought portions from the
king's table (Gen. 43.34), still proximity to the court naturally
did bring such benefits (1 Sam. 22.7). The Israelites feel themselves to be the 'firstborn' in relation to the Judaeans, considering themselves better than those born after them. It was then,
we are told, that Sheba first struck up the war chant that later
became the Israelite Marseillaise and made the separation of
the northern Israelites from David and his dynasty a political
slogan. His insurrection signifies Benjamin's last attempt to
restore the precedence gained under Saul's rule.
48
Of the king's eventual homecoming to Jerusalem, Scene 2

(20.3-7) reports only the banishment of the concubines violated by Absalom. Then a new worry occupies all David's
energies. He orders Amasa to call up the military. Joab has
been odious to David since the murder of Absalom and is due to
be replaced by Amasa (19.14); thus the latter is now entrusted
with supreme command. When he is not back in time, Abishai
is sent out with the standing army to pursue Sheba with all
possible speed, Joab again being intentionally passed over. Joab
accompanies him in a subordinate position, but his boundless
ambition costs Amasa his life, as Scene 3 (20.8-13) relates.
Amasa has simply come a little late and has caught up
Abishai's recently departed warriors at Gibeon. There Joab
greets his opponent amiably with a Judas-kiss, only to strike
him down maliciously with his sword, which had slipped from
his grasp and which, unnoticed by Amasa, he had picked up
with his left hand. The place seems to be the same as the one
named 'field of sides' in 2.16, there given another explanation.
From now on the conduct of the war is back in Joab's hand,
who quickly leads it to a satisfactory end.
Scene 4 (20.14-22) shows us Sheba already besieged in Abel,
present-day Ibl, near the source of the Jordan, by Dan. Abel
was 'mother', i.e. capital of a province, and had achieved
legendary fame through ancient traditions; border towns
often maintain national peculiarities most faithfully. A 'wise
woman'several of these are mentioned for that period
(1 Sam. 28; 2 Sam. 14.2)succeeds in persuading the inhabitants to kill Sheba and thereby save themselves.
2. Character of the narrative
The totally homogeneous narrative is the longest one in all the
historical books of the Old Testament; for the others that
might be compared with it have only become larger compositions by the accretion of originally independent, smaller units.
A relatively short period is here described with great relish.
The two days in which David flees from Jerusalem to Mahanaim alone occupy twelve scenes! The most frequent change
of situation, the great abundance of personalities and the constant changes of mood reveal a developed technique in high
quality narrative art. As surely as on one hand the material
used may be deemed historically reliable, it is equally without

doubt on the other hand that the historical facts are stylized.
What we see is reality, but not sober description of what happened; rather, the events are artistically glorified. Whereas
throughout the rest of the books of Samuel only the beginnings
of the novella are to be found, this extensively detailed narrative may be directly termed a novella, or, more precisely, a
history-narrative with novella-type depth as distinct from
'saga-novellas' that spring from fantasy only, such as we meet
in the Joseph story and the book of Ruth.
The narrative's novella-like character is most clear in the
psychological depth of the persons appearing in it. While the
figure of Absalom held little fascination for the author, his
character being only briefly indicated in the introduction, a
warm light falls on David, whose rich characteristics are
drawn out in sharp relief and whose states of mind are lovingly depicted: clever in his plans and prudent in his calculations, humbly submissive to his fate and strong in his trust in
God, liberal towards his friends and magnanimous towards
his enemies, sympathizing with the misfortunes of others and
kind towards everyonesuch is the reputation accorded to
David here. But neither are his faults concealed. Just as in the
Bathsheba narrative he is reproached as to his susceptibility to
beautiful women, which lets him sink so far as to become a
murderer, so in this case he is reproached for his weakness
towards his wayward son, which carries him into unjust
treatment of his loyal supporters. His tenderness, especially
towards his family, must have been (as it was for Herod) a
dominant trait in David's nature, since it is emphasized in
various stories. It is from this tenderness that his winning
kindness, with which he has charmed the hearts of his contemporaries, springs, as does his ability to give poetic form to
deeply felt impressions. And next to him Joab, son of Zeruiah,
as his 'tempter', his more wicked and at the same time
stronger Ego! The narrators of old already compared the two,
liking to place them next to one another in order to bring
colour and contrast into their pictures of them. In relation to
Joab's violent nature, the king appears as the weaker, almost
helpless one (3.39). If kings also have to smile through their
pain, then the way in which David lets Joab remonstrate with
50
him over his injustice, being obliged to give in to his threats,

(19.6fF.), is characteristic of this.
Joab has been a reliable but sinister companion, always
ready to use his sword to gain his rights. Abner, Absalom and
Amasa fell victim to his lust for killing, to mention only the
names of those he killed by treachery. Thoughts which David
hardly dared entertain and mentioned only quietly if at all
were translated into action by Joab. Without Joab's unscrupulous aid the Hittite Uriah might not have been removed and
Abner might have survived. David is certainly completely
innocent of Absalom's death. Since Joab interceded for Absalom before the revolt, it seems his cruel deed was motivated
solely by concern for the kingdom, which was more important
to him than sympathy for the father. But Amasa he struck
down only because he feared him as a dangerous rival. And
finally the abundance of other figures passing fleetingly before
our eyes: Ittai, Hushai, Ahithophel, Shimei, Ziba, Mephibosheth, Barzillaia new character in almost every scene!
One characteristic which the present story shares with the
Joseph-saga and the Ruth narrative is the gentle poignancy.
The soft tone that rings out from most of the words has a
deeply moving effect today, and probably always will have.
What an abundance of delicate buds is put into the fragrant
bouquet! The human soul, it seems, has hardly changed in the
millennia. And yet a small change can be discerned. People
were more lacrymose in antiquity than they are today. It
strikes us as strange when the rough, often coarse, warriors
on leaving Jerusalem climb the Mount of Olives weeping and
sobbing. But in the orient people are still like children even
today, are unable to contain their pain or their joy and, losing
their composure, give in to their feelings.
A second feature to be observed in all the Israelite 'novellas'
is the strong emphasis on belief in providence. Unlike the older
sagas which have God intervene in events in a marvellous
way, the later novellas see the controlling hand of God in the
natural occurrences of human lifean unpretentious perspective which fully corresponds to our own. These narratives
moreover push into the background the otherwise dominant
notion of the God of the people, showing rather God's provision
for the individual, again a type of piety we understand better
51
than the former. If one draws on the novellas of other peoples

as a comparison, the greatest difference that appears is that
those of the Israelites have an all-pervading religious love.
Only such comparisons as these show how unique is that
which most take for granted, the religious air we breathe
everywhere, even in the historical narratives of the Old Testament.
3. Monuments
Monuments are sacred stones of various shapes and sizes.

They stand on holy sites, usually on high mountains and
under green trees (2 Kgs 17.10), less frequently at the
entrances to temples (1 Kgs 7.21), on battle-fields (1 Sam.
7.12), beside graves (Gen. 35.14; 2 Sam. 18.18) and at a border
(Gen. 31.44ff.; Exod. 24.4), as markers of holy ground. Their
significance has changed in the course of time. Originally they
seem to have been regarded everywhere as the seat or the
liouse of God' (Gen. 28.22), to a certain extent as a visible symbol of the invisible deity. For a long time they served the same
purposes as the altar: the sacrifice was presented before the
monument, the blood was spread on it or the oil was poured
over it. The Israelites took over this custom from the Canaanites and maintained it until the exile, although it was opposed
by the prophets and by the prophet-influenced Deuteronomist.
But already at an early period these cultic stones were seen as
memorial stones and thus more or less stripped of their religious meaning.
Gravestones go back to prehistoric times, as the menhirs
that have been found in the dolmen fields of east Jordan show
us. Innumerable gravestones were intended by the Egyptians
'to preserve the name' of the man, by the Phoenicians 'as a
memorial among the living', by the Greeks 'for the sake of
memory', and so too by the Israelites, 'to keep the name in
remembrance' (2 Sam. 18.18). Occasionally they were erected
by people who had no children, in their own lifetime. This
strange compulsion to procure oneself a monument is not
explained by piety alone. Even the term 'monument' betrays
the fact that the deceased was once regarded as a 'divine
being' (1 Sam 28.13) whose soul lived in the stone; hence the
Aramaic name of the gravestone, which resembles the word
52
'soul'. However, in general this view had disappeared already

in the time of David, and 'monument' (Malstein) had become
simply 'memorial stone' (Denkstein).The justification for the
monument at Absalom's grave is apparently wrong (18.18),
since better information indicates that he had children (14.27).
The present-day so-called Tomb of Absalom' in the Kidron
Valley dates back only to the Hellenistic period; the 'King's
Valley' is unknown to us.
DAVID'S OFFICERS
2 Samuel 20.23-26
The list given here does not quite accord with 8.16-18.
Adoniram and Ira are missing there, while 'the sons of David'
are there labelled 'priests', a striking, but certainly reliable,
piece of information. The name of the scribe (transmitted in
different forms, of which the best is 1 Chron. 18.16), Shavsha,
is Babylonian; Babylonian seems still to have been the diplomatic language of the Near East at that time, as in the time of
the Tell el-Amarna letters (c. 1400 BCE), and state-scribes
therefore had to be Babylonians. The feudal master Adoniram
we meet also under Solomon and Rehoboam (1 Kgs 4.6; 5.28;
12.18). Instead of'Cherethites' (= Cretans), who are closely
associated with the Pelethites (= Philistines), the Hebrew text
names the 'Charites' of Asia Minor; but this is presumably
only a scribal error.
THE CONFLICT BETWEEN SOLOMON AND ADONIJAH

OVER THE SUCCESSION
1 Kings 1.1-2.46
1. Additions
2.1-12, 31b-33, 44-45, which contain David's will and report its
execution, are a later addition in the style of the Deuteronomist, as we learn from the exhortation to obedience to the
law and from the numerical data. In addition, there are links
with other narratives: the warning of revenge on Joab for the
murder of Abner (2 Sam. 3.27) and of Amasa (2 Sam. 20.10),
53
the call to reward Barzillai (2 Sam. 17.27ff.; 19.32ff.) and to

punish Shimei (2 Sam. 16.5ff.; 19.17ff.). This will cannot
belong to the original text, since Solomon acts on his own
responsibility, taking no account at all of part of it, and the rest
only later; this becomes especially clear in the treatment of
Shimei and the text that reports it (2.36-46). The reward of
Barzillai's 'sons' ('son' would be more accurate) is entirely
absent. The strange version of 2.45 is explained by the intention to render Shimei's curse harmless by means of a blessing.
2. Analysis
Part I (1.1-53) takes place before the death of David, apparently shortly before. With bold strokes the Introduction (1.1-4)
draws a picture of the elderly David, one which is absolutely
necessary for a correct understanding of the action that follows and which should certainly not be considered an inconsequential piece of information. The feeble old king is physically
spent and no longer leaves the camp (1.47). In vain an attempt
is made, in accordance with the rules of ancient medicine, to
strengthen his fading energies with a youthful virgin, Abishag
of Shunem (present-day Solem in the plain of Megiddo), who
is glorified as the beloved of Solomon in the Song of Songs
under the better-known name 'the Shulamite' (= Shunamite),
and who achieved immortal fame on account of her beauty.
David can deal personally neither with the business of government nor with the affairs of his family but is dependent on
the help of others. And his physical incapacity is accompanied
by his mental incapacity. Not having any will of his own, he is
a mere tool in the hands of those who know how to control
him. Thus the way is opened to palace intrigues.
Scene 1 (1.5-10) informs us that Adonijah has the best
prospects for succession to the throne. Spoilt by his father,
loved by the masses and favoured by an influential party, as
the eldest of David's surviving sons following the death of
Absalom he has first claim to the kingship. For a long time he
has appeared unhindered as crown prince (1.5); but to ensure
against all eventualities he decides to have himself proclaimed
king while his father is still alive. To this end, without David's
knowledge he gathers his supporters by the Serpent's Stone,
54
situated near the Fuller's Spring,1 and arranges liberal

sacrifices, the meat from which is intended to serve for the
coronation meal. The narrator does not say that Adonijah has
been placed on the throne by his comrades but only indicates
that this is imminent.
According to Scene 2 (1.11-14), Nathan the prophet on
hearing of the events immediately rushes off to Bathsheba in
order to take counter-measures in favour of Solomon. He is
exaggerating when he represents the anointing of Adonijah as
having already been completed, in order to stimulate Bathsheba and David into quick intervention. Nathan's championship of Solomon is understandable, as the latter was entrusted
to him in his youth for his education (2 Sam. 12.25). The
prophet fears he will suffer the fate which later befalls Adonijah and therefore suggests a ruse to Bathsheba: both of them
together determine to persuade the king that he once swore to
Bathsheba that he would make his son Solomon his successor.
In reality he had given no such promise; for otherwise
Bathsheba would not have needed Nathan's advice but could
have called upon him, of her own accord, to keep his promise.
The prophet's readiness to 'confirm' the words of Bathsheba
proves even more clearly that from the start he considers a
'recollection' to be out of the question. Accordingly, both are
counting on the weakness of the old ruler's memory and are
hoping to be able to deceive him.
Their finely conceived plan succeeds, as Scenes 3-7 describe
(1.15-40). Again, an addition emphasizes the frailty of David,
who is not allowed to leave his bedroom. If David had not been
so old and fragile, we are to think, then he could not have been
deceived in such a humiliating fashion. Bathsheba and
Nathan take it in turns to go in to the king and come out, a fact
which has to be traced back to etiquette. Bathsheba seeks
above all to appeal to his honour: as a man of honour, should he
break his oath, thereby possibly delivering Bathsheba and
Solomon to their deaths, should he calmly put up with Adonijah's inconsiderate conduct and, like an abdicator, expose his
kingdom to the danger of fraternal war? Nathan does not
1. 'Rogel Spring*, probably present-day 'Job's Well' (Palastina-Jahrbuch, XIV, pp. 49f.).
need to confirm the supposed oath at all; for David immediately renews it and commands those loyal to him to anoint
Solomon at the spring of Gihon, probably the present-day
Mary's Spring. There remains the insoluble problem of why
Solomon has to be anointed at a spring, just as Adonijah was,
rather than in the palace or in the Tent of Yahweh.
In Scene 8 (1.41-49), Jonathan (whom we know from
2 Sam. 15.27ff.; 17.17ff.) brings news of the events to Adonijah
and his guests. Here we have an example of how (by Joab's
question as an incidental third party) the dramatic vividness
of the scene is enhanced. According to Scene 9 (1.50-53)
Solomon grants protection to his brother, who has grasped the
'horns' of the altar. These horns, as far as we know from finds
in Palestine, should not be thought of as real animal horns, but
only ornamental pieces on the four corners of the altar, which
are especially sacred and usually guarantee sanctuary to anyone seeking protection (Exod. 21.14). These ornaments are
presumably nothing but deteriorated monuments, which we
know used to be placed on the altars also. While the events of
Part I of the narrative follow one another in rapid succession
and take place in a single day, those of Part II (2.10-46) extend
over a greater period. Between the two parts is the death of
David, through which Solomon is freed from all need to show
consideration. In accordance with the customs of oriental
rulers, he too begins to secure his throne by murdering open
opponents and dubious friends.
Scenes 1-3 (2.10-25) report the definitive removal of
Adonijah. A pretext is readily available if one looks for one.
Adonijah has fallen in love with the beautiful Shulamite and is
foolish enough to seek her hand from the king. Even though
he wins Solomon's own mother as an advocate, he is still killed
as a criminal dangerous to the state; because he demands the
king's wife he is aspiring to the kingdom (2 Sam. 3.7; 12.8;
16.20ff.). Adonijah is apparently aware of his presumption,
and this is why he speaks so cautiously to Bathsheba. She
really speaks on his behalf, not just ostensibly; for she makes
his request her own and has the granting of it promised in
advance, though still in vain. Solomon believes there is a conspiracy agreed with Abiathar and Joab. In terms of cultural
history, the difference in the treatment of Bathsheba by David
56
and by Solomon is instructive. The king's consort has a lower

rank than the Queen Mother, who even occupies the place of
honour at the right hand of the ruler. Adonijah's supporters
fall with him.
Though, according to Scene 4 (2.26-27), Abiathar escapes
with his life, he is banished to Anathoth, present-day 'Anata,
near Jerusalem. Zadok becomes his successor, whose family
later lays exclusive claim to the office of the priesthood, artificially tracing its origins back to Aaron. Joab, the grim veteran,
suffers a worse fate than Abiathar, who, as Scene 5 (2.28-35)
relates, is not even protected by the sanctity of the altar from
being murdered. Benaiah, himself worthy of Joab as an executioner, receives his position.
Scene 6 (2.36-46) adds the fate of Shimei, who is certainly
not identical with the 'friend of David' and partisan of
Solomon named in 1.8. The person meant is, rather, the relative of Saul, whom the new ruler regards with suspicion
because of his participation in Absalom's insurrection (2 Sam.
16.5fF.; 19.17ff.). Although initially treated leniently, in the end,
as might be expected, he is executed when the opportunity
presents itself.
3. Literary Character
There is no reason to doubt the historicity of the events
described here, even if the facts have been unmistakably stylized by the mind of the artist. We need only be reminded how
well informed the author is about the unspoken secrets of
harem life and the confidential conversations of the royal figures. As in the closely related pieces of the books of Samuel, in
this history-narrative with novella-type depth the internal
connection between the events is the creative property of the
narrator.
Nathan is celebrated as the director of the drama: he it was
who brought down Adonijah, who already had the crown in
his hands, and he it was who set his pupil on the throne, just as
Samuel once was active behind the scenes in helping Saul to
the kingship. But while we can picture Samuel as a powerful
seer inspired by God, here Nathan appears as the type of
scheming politician that works with human, all-too-human,
methods. Anyone with sensitive feelings will find the prophet's
cunning, with which he catches a feeble old man unawares,

objectionable. The narrator of antiquity judges by success and
thus sees Solomon's victory as a divine act (2.15).
Adonijah is not portrayed as a dangerous agitator, but
rather, on the contrary, as a rightful heir to the throne. But he
lacks the discreet prudence that is Solomon's and his supporters'. It is rash foolhardiness (1.5) for Adonijah to proclaim
himself king without David's knowledge. Equally ill advised is
his courting of Abishag of Shunem, which though taken as
harmless by Bathsheba, must necessarily appear in quite
another light to the distrustful Solomon. The narrator is so
careful to reserve his judgment that his opinion is not everywhere surely recognizable.
We do not get close to Solomon, the man, at all, since he is
nothing more than a true oriental despot who establishes his
throne on the corpses of his opponents. A comparison with
David's actions is inescapable. When the latter took over Saul's
inheritance, the sword of Joab, it is true, raged just as Benaiah's does now. Nevertheless, a great difference cannot be
overlooked: David never publicly admitted the deeds of his
henchmen, but, on the contrary, strongly condemned them;
the narrators at least have made a keen effort to exonerate
him of all responsibility. How different things are with
Solomon, whose naked egocentricity is not veiled by kindness
of any sort! The king himself clearly set no store by dressing up
his conduct in any way. The development has become complete surprisingly quickly; Saul, David, Solomonalready in
the third generation the Israelite rulers have become studied
pupils of their counterparts in other countries. Through
Solomon, Israel is included as an equal link in the chain of
heathen world powers in the Near East. From now on, Israel
begins to introduce, in greater measure than ever before, foreign products, both cultural and spiritual. The foreign influences had a transforming effect in almost all areas of life, particularly those of literature and religion, sometimes encouraging and sometimes inhibiting development. However powerful
an advance was made in some respects, on the other hand the
danger was considerable that the Israelite character would
not only merge with the foreign but would completely disappear in it. If this danger was successfully averted, the credit
58
should go to later prophecy, which through its opposition

reawakened the Israelite spirit in its original purity.
Beyond this, the narrator, who has correctly gauged the
character of Solomon as the unapproachable tyrant and who
has drawn a true-to-life picture of the elderly David, will also
have drawn from real life the figure of the scheming prophet
as well as that of the foolhardy pretender to the throne. It is all
the more regrettable that the novella-type narratives so
important for the books of Samuel and 1 Kings If. disappear
front now on. The contemporaneity with the reign of Solomon
can be no coincidence but must have its reasons in the nature
of things. Up to this point the kings were the most popular
object of the novella. Precisely this becomes impossible from
this point on. For a despot has no soul, and woe to anyone who
dares credit him with human traits!
THE LITERARY TYPE AND HISTORICAL VALUE

OF 2 SAMUEL 15-20
Wilhelm Caspari
At a time which was still dominated by the idea that the Old
Testament was composed exclusively of books, the sources of
the story of David began to be subjected to the kinds of literarycritical analysis that have held their own to the present day.
These analyses started from historical books and led on to
more historical books, but to ones which were contained in or
incorporated into the first ones. But still the nature of the object
had been preserved under the analysis; it was little felt that the
genesis of a historical book held a problem in itself, and still less
was thought given to putting the analytical method itself into
the service of the problem.
So it is that we are presented with sources for the history of
David which have passed through a long process of narration,
giving many and varied accounts which are unified only in
that everything concerns one and the same king. This is
shown convincingly by Thenius-Lohr,1 who have a table giving in parallel columns the various critical results for
2 Samuel 9-1 Kings 2 (without 2 Sam. 21-24): it is an integrated whole, with no larger section being dispensable and no
difference being discernible between authors (Budde); its unity
of authorship is clear (Cornill); it is a single, high-quality historical source (Kittel and Wellhausen); and 14.26 is usually
considered a gloss, along with w. 25 and 27 (possibly).
1. O. Thenius and M. Lohr, Die Bucher Samuels (3rd edn; Leipzig,

1898), pp. Iviiff.
60
Budde1 in particular attributes to chs. 1320 'an uninterrupted, tragic course'. To trace this in the reported events and
to regard the texts devoted to them as a unified literary whole
are clearly two different things, however.
The text depicts only general phenomena, even in the best sections of the book...; at some points the text shows a greater
degree of corruption (cf. especially 15.23ff.; 17.3; 18.12ff.; 20.28f.);
here and there a paragraph seems to have suffered a shift to the
wrong position, which has occasionally been followed by further
corruption (13.37, 38a; 19.12b; 20.15f.); there are isolated
instances of glosses, as in the fanciful expansion in 14.26, perhaps the small tendentious alterations in 15.24ff. and then the
antiquarian 18.18.2
Budde directs his criticism of 14.26 initially to the weight of

the princely hair; perhaps one numeral has merely been miscopied. It is important, and for all those who maintain the
unity of the chapter it is necessary, to decide between 14.27
and 18.18. There is clearly nothing to be gained by dismissing
both as glosses. 18.18 matches the style of those local sagas
which conclude with an express connection of the material
with a place known to the narrator and his audience. In content, it is true, the verse is not to be compared with its models,
for it concerns another place, rather than the one that belongs
to the previous narrative. The progress of the action is already
interrupted by v. 17b; for by the time the statement that 'the
Israelites fled every one to his own home' is completely fulfilled, the events of the remainder of ch. 18 and the beginning
of ch. 19 are long past. So much adheres to the passage therefore, that an interruption is made in any case, perhaps with
the purpose of preparing for 19.9b, 10, or perhaps just to
record the tragic moment exhaustively. To dwell briefly on the
victim of the catastrophe, in the manner of an obituary, does
not seem out of place here; the great difference between aspiration and achievement is impressively drawn.3
1. K. Budde, Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel (Giessen, 1890),
p. 251.
2. Budde, op. cit., p. 253.
3. The author of 18.18 may also have recognized an omen in Absalom's quoted words.
CASPARI Literary Type of 2 Samuel 15-20
61
Admittedly these are only considerations of taste, internal

reasons. It is certainly not our aim thereby to prove the
authenticity of v. 18. But it was precisely on internal grounds
that it was doubted. It is demonstrable, then, that not enough
reliance can in fact be placed on the critical judgments. There
is another possible means of illuminating the matter. Should
not 18.18 be evaluated like 17.23,14b; 16.23; 20.3b?
14.27 is incompatible with 18.18. The question is whether the
contradiction can be overcome by deletion. This would probably have to extend not just to the one verse, but to w. 25-27.
The deletion cannot really be justified by the 200 shekels alone.
But for the rest, the project of deletion is again dependent on
internal grounds. We shall do well to accept them initially
without closer inspection: 'So Absalom dwelt apart in his own
house, and did not come into the king's presence. So Absalom
dwelt two full years in Jerusalem, without coming into the
king's presence.' Twice consecutively, then, we have the same
subordinate clause, as in a litany. This is so unlike the narrator's usual style, that any deletion of w. 25-27 must be further
extended to include one of the two identical clauses. As they
stand now, between them they presuppose a fairly major
interruption of the context which makes desirable a virtual
repetition of the statement made in v. 24.
To oppose internal grounds with other internal grounds,
however, the content of vv. 25-27 definitely has a use here.
The main point is that Absalom was able and permitted to lead
a family life. This is surely in some conflict with the continuing
royal disfavour. If his four children are by one mother, they
would have periods of two years (v. 28) and four years (15.7)
to fit into. The assumption is allowable, then, that all four births
occur in these years, and it is not necessary to look back to the
period before 13.23. There is even time left over which he may
have spent unmarried. The narrator is thus faced with a
problem: in conditions such as Absalom's it is not the purest of
pleasures to set up house. It was a risk to bride and parents. So
however great the misgivings were, the influences which
counterbalanced them must have been so much the greater.
Was this not a suitable moment, then, to speak of Absalom's
winsome looks (14.25f.)?
62
One might still wish to declare the author to be a glossator on

account of his carelessness in calling Absalom's daughter
Tamar in v. 27, when her name is in fact Maacah (1 Kgs
15.2)'she was a beautiful woman'. This piece of information
requires us, to begin with, to stay with the one daughter of
Absalom: for if she had not been the king's mother, no anticipatory parenthesis would have been devoted to her at this
point. Nor does the variant reading Mccaxa offer a satisfactory
way outit appears to be a scribal correction. And it will certainly not do to correct to Tamar in 1 Kgs 15.2. So we are left
with the charge of carelessness in 14.27. But the beautiful
daughter belongs to the beautiful father (14.25) and thus has a
share in the literary-critical treatment of the whole piece. Is it
not old-fashioned apologetics to whitewash the author of the
charge by divesting him of responsibility for the passage? Yes,
if the same author showed knowledge of the right name elsewhere. But it is only on this one occasion that he speaks of her.
There remains the course of deleting no more than the two
words "inn nnch as a gloss. The Greek evidence could be used to
support this also: the name was missed because the daughter
had been made interesting by the note that follows; two glossators filled it in, one from documentary knowledge, the other
from the novella.
Even this information is not very satisfactory, however. If
the daughter's future was already spoken of, the narrator
could surely not have spread a veil over her as over 'a woman
of Tekoa'. One therefore gains the impression that it pleased
the narrator to name the daughter after the avenged sister;
this would have been a moment when his predilection for
conclusions rich in affinities and ideas sent him beyond what
the official documents said. At least it will be difficult by suggesting his ignorance of the facts, for example, to get around
the possibility that the author could have so blatantly offended
against the principles of historical conscientiousness. For then
the narrative would have had to have been completed too long
after the daughter's death, and there is much that militates
against this.1
1. 1 Kgs 14.21: 'Rehoboam was 41 years old when he began to reign'.
The statement looks suspiciously schematic. Maacah must then have
63
Assuming that the narrator, acting on his own authority,

here harks back to the first Tamar, the further assumption
can hardly be avoided that what began in ch. 13 closes here.
Verse 33 would really end off this literary product. This might
be deemed impossible; anyone who narrated so much about
Absalom would want to report on his revolt too. But the contradiction between 14.27 and 18.18 cannot be avoided this way.
If this contradiction did not rest in actual history, a writer of
any astuteness should have been more careful here.
If preference is given to the assumption that an account of
the revolt must follow on from ch. 14, it must first be shown
that chs. 15ff. are really its sequel. It could be that Absalom's
revolt was the subject of a number of descriptions and that the
redactor let another source speak from ch. 15 onwards.
This suggestion is opposed on the grounds (1) that 15.Iff. is
not a proper opening for a book and (2) that the style is the
same after 15.1 as before.
On the first point, it may be answered that the three opening
words of 15.1 are a connecting formula, such as is permissible
to any redactor. One may readily admit that we no longer
have the beginning of a possibly independent description of the
rebellion; but this we do have at the latest from v. 7 onwards.
Arguments from stylistic differences are hardly to be
expected given the limited extent of the comparable literary
products and especially in view of the lack of individualization
among writers of the period. The parity of style points no further than to the origin of both pieces in one school and one
milieu. Where there are cases of unbalance in the subject
matter one cannot go beyond the assertion of a common
school.
been about ten years older than he. If Asa is her son also (v. 10) and
thus Abijah's brother, not his son (v. 8), who came to the throne by
means of a coup perhaps, he must already have been born under
Solomon, c. 940. In Asa's reign we read of his mother's great political
influence, and it seems that he began his rule by putting a stop to this.
Assuming someone had given an account of the AbsalomTamar
story at that time, could it not have seemed advisable to him to pass
over the name of one who had fallen from grace? (On the historical situation, cf. S. Ottli, Geschichte Israels [Stuttgart, 1925], p. 339.)
64
It is not only the statements about Absalom's children that

are unbalanced. So too is Joab's behaviour towards Absalom.
Up to 14.33 he is his friend, and from there onwards his
enemy. Serious attempts have been made to explain the
change by his annoyance at the loss of his crops in 14.30!
There is also some variance in David's behaviour towards
his son. With regard to the crime of revenge, he is quite strict,
whereas towards the traitor he proclaims leniency.1
In the first affair, David has a minister called Jonadab, in the
second, Ahithophel, Hushai and others.
All these discrepancies may not have been such in historical
reality, and perhaps made a coherent sequence. Yet one would
have thought that one writer would have exercised sufficient
control to attempt to smooth over the contradictions to some
extent. To 14.33 he could have said, for example, 'And from
that day on, Joab and Absalom were at enmity with one
another. Joab said in his heart, "You will pay for that cornfield
of mine".' The fact that precisely at this point there is no hint
at all of what is to follow leads one towards the conclusion that
the Tamar narrator had no further plans.
Moreover, there is not a total lack of stylistic differences:
15.32 says nirjn; 13.19 says ~I?K. The mourning ceremonies are
different, or differently named: 19.1 vs. 13.31; 19.2 vs. 13.36.
Taan occurs in 15.13; nyntfn in 13.30. After the imperative of Dip,
17.21 has t; 13.15 does not. In 14.21 the king calls Absalom a iw
because he does not want to accept him into favour, and in 18.5
because he pardons him. The tone in which the word is spoken
is different in each case. In 17.29 we read "^Kb itf'jin with *p, in
13.11 with -. For ^ Kfetf? n;n in 19.36, 13.25 has 139.
This list could be lengthened as desired. But the purpose of
the examples given here is simply to set the assertion of the
stylistic unity of both pieces in its correct proportion. Such an
assertion cannot be extended as far as to conclude any unity of
authorship if there are objections to this in respect of subject
matter. And such are the irregularities we have registered.
1. The avenger of the womanly honour in ch. 13 also contrasts

strongly with the Absalom of 16.22. But even the narrator considered it
particularly necessary to give reasons for the latter step.
65
2 Sam. 9-20, held to be such a solid unit, thereby falls apart,

at one point at least, namely 15.1. But since the beginning in
15.1 is comparable to that in 13.1, we have a self-contained
unit in chs. 13f.: the Amnon-Tamar-Absalom novella, with a
homogeneous, well-defined story-line in several scenes. One
might think of this, as indicated above, as having been composed in the time of Asa, perhaps under the stylistic influence
of the Egyptian novellas imported by Solomon's wife.
At this point, however, this unit has not been investigated for
its own sake, but only in line with our concern to illuminate its
relationship to chs. 15-20. We are now justified in examining
chs. 1520 as a whole and interpreting it in its own right. The
period of conflict between north and south immediately suggests itself as the possible time of this piece's composition; it is
in the light of this conflict that the narrator frequently views
Absalom's revolt. It has hitherto been thought necessary to
follow him blindly in this, but, in so doing, a historical understanding of the revolt has been obstructed from the start. The
Absalom narrator only occasionally sets the Israel-Judah
conflict (among other sources) alongside his account; it is
hardly more than a touch of spice by means of which he
makes his material topical and blends into it connections to the
present. He may have written already under Rehoboam, even
perhaps in the wake of Jeroboam's first revolt under Solomon.
It will be difficult to be more precise than this. Here we are
only concerned to indicate a certain probability that the second
Absalom narrative could be older than the first.
With the disappearance of a formal book of David and its
reduction into individual constructions of the novella type,
however, our understanding of the David source seems to me
to be advanced considerably. Earlier scholars have concerned
themselves only to a limited extent with the problem of where
such continuous descriptions of individual reigns may have
come from, of who required such descriptions and of when the
preconditions for such literary achievements obtained; it has
been taken for granted that there actually were such descriptions of the various reigns; when absolutely necessary the ever
helpful imperial annals have been consulted, even though
from the Babylonian-Assyrian counterparts it is now
66
sufficiently well known how the content of such annals was

supplied.
It was a relatively easy matter to have only to put together a
book of a reign from individual novellas or products of the
novella type that were effective in their presentation and were
thus popular. And it is no less understandable that one should
commence with the reign of a particularly popular king. But if
it looks as though already in Asa's reign David was elevated to
a kind of ideal that was officially held up as a star, this was in
marked contrast to the reality both of Asa's and of David's
time.
In what follows we shall be looking in greater detail at
chs. 15-20, which remain from the preceding study. What
kind of a literary product do they offer us? In what style are
they written?
Whatever answer is given will be the basis for answering
the further question of the historical value of the chapters.
This question is the primary reason for studies of these chapters.1
For a long time it was answered confidently; even Renan2
used special praise to register his confidence. Alongside this,
however, there is a cooler judgment, that the source is already
a long way from the events, that it was composed from the
point of view of the pure party, that it aimed to narrate something of beauty, and that its accuracy has suffered as a result.
By such judgments the objectivity of the source is brought into
question; it appears either as a tendentious work or as a piece
of entertainment.
1. H. Ewald, Geschichte des Volkes Israel (3rd edn; Gottingen, 186468), I, p. 44: 'Narratives such as Judges 9 or 2 Sam. 1320 give us such
vivid pictures of those times, drawn on such a firm background, that
we can imagine ourselves easily and directly, and perfectly clearly, in
the particular conditions of the time and in all its major and subsidiary circumstances, without being significantly impeded in our
view and our revivification of what is related by any obstacles that
might have become mixed in with it' (cf. p. 45). Such romantic optimism can no longer be maintained today.
2. J.E. Renan, Histoire du peuple d'Israel (5 vols.; Paris, 1899-93),
II, p. 73.
67
In order to be able to assess the historical value of the source

we must thus first seek to determine its literary character
more closely.
This character used to be definedcautiouslyas 'narrative'. Since Sievers one would be more accurate to call the
author a metric narrator,1 without the term 'narrator'
becoming thereby untenable. This term is still useful in many
respects; it can be profitably used to gain closer, negative
definitions. The narrator is not a poet, despite the metre, and
his product is not an epic. The most that could be considered is
whether it contains epic resonances, namely individual
devices of a mythic type. These must always be present in the
epic of the day.2
Nor can a cycle of romances be discerned in the source.
Above all it lacks the ideal unity which the person of the hero
ought to establish. Is Absalom really this hero around whom
the various details of the text conglomerate and from whom
1. The source's literary form per se is not the subject of the discussion introduced here. The main point of discussion is thus not the
alternative between poetic and prosaic speech. Our concern is only to
consider to what extent facts and report coincide with or depart from
one another, if the latter has been formed under the influence of a particular literary type. It is not, however, totally uninteresting to historians whether or not metre belongs among the distinctive features of the
type. They will generally take the incidence of metre to mean that more
attention has been given to secondary, aesthetic purposes than a prosewriter would have given. This conclusion is only of use, however, if
comparable prose-writers are available. But it is not easy to say
whether the Absalom narrator is more interested in verse than other
roughly contemporary narrators of similar material. Even given that
the necessary counterparts were available, this would still not prove
that the Absalom narrator would be relatively less true to history. But
the presence of traces of metre, though among the determining factors, is not decisive for the question of his direct relationship to his
material.
2. Passages which give a mythic impression can frequently only be
tested and evaluated in the context of the surrounding report. Only
then does it become clear whether they deserve the epithet 'mythic'
and how far the historical validity of the source has been affected by
them. It is popular for instance, to regard Absalom's death by his long
hair as a mythical depiction. The role played by the hair is, however,
not part of the text at all, but midrash, appearing apparently for the
first time in Josephus,Ant.7.10.2.
68
they derive their right to be present? If one reads the source

through again one will find that it is only the modern terms
'Absalom-chapter', 'Absalom-narrator' and the like that have
given rise to the notion that he is the hero of the text in which
he figures. Rather, the position of the hero is shared consecutively by Absalom, David and Joab. All the same, the stylistic
conjunction of the individual sections of the source is close
enough. They cannot, therefore, have been taken from different cycles of romances either.1
The narrator, furthermore, is no historian, and his product,
even in the terms of his own day, is not a scientific work.
Occasionally he neglects to say things that are necessary for
comprehension, even at points where we should think he
ought to feel bound to do so.2 So he is neither absolutely nor
relatively complete. But his selection of relevant factors is not
an objective one either, not being a really proportionate crosssection of all the actual data. This has to be admitted straightaway in order to avoid further complications. The only question is whether the historian ever had sources of another type
than these at his disposal. An admission that they are not
objective is still a long way from accepting that they are scientifically unusable.
Nor is the narrator an official recorder. His dating of events
is untidy, both absolutely and relatively speaking. Only at the
beginning does he make a somewhat unclear attempt. The
value of his numerical data is problematic (15.11: 500?); the
geographical data invited corrections already at an early
period, and these have quite obscured their reliability.
Thus it would be wrong to want to reject the designation
'narrator' altogether. It is not merely an empty term; some
criteria, if only negative ones, are drawn out by it. But it is
more often accused of being too glossy, that it surreptitiously
1. This would also be an assumption that one would scarcely pursue
without some compelling reason. Moreover such a figure as Joab, for
example, is not suited as the focus of a self-contained cycle of
romances, any more than the often compared Hagen von Tronje. Such
'moons' may indeed cause such eclipses of the sun but cannot shine
without the sun, not even in national poetic memory.
2. E.g. 'the Moor' (RSV, 'the Cushite') in 18.21. In 15.14, why do they
not wait in Jerusalem? And so on.
69
permits of the part and the whole being declared reliable,

without very much effort being made at documentation. This
may require one to draw upon an as yet unexhausted capital
of confidence in the Bible, on which so many demands are
already being made that one has to ask oneself on occasion
whether this is necessary. Certainly, if the designation 'narrator' is too glossy and impedes a clear insight into the relationship of the report to the material it must be faulted. But the
problem might be obviated if one retains the term and defines
it more precisely, to the point where the undesirable all-toocomfortable glossiness ceases. No one can really dispute the
fact that the term is too vague.
Perhaps the word 'popular' (volkstiimlich) would be an
appropriate qualification of the term. Wildeboer1 has some
pertinent remarks about the 'popular narrator' (volkstiimlicher Erzdhler) on Israelite soil. However, our understanding
of the Absalom narrator in particular is little improved by this.
Where is his people, and how does he approach it with his
product? One can hardly fail to recognize that the Absalom
narrator's product was intended to be read, not to be publicly
recited. The figures among the people in 15.2ff. are so unrealistic, so colourless, mere shadows; such are of no use to a
reciter. True, this feature is partially compensated for by contrasting ones in v. 13. But then again the formalities of the Ark
are not popular. Probably2 it is the author himself who makes
use of the abbreviations in 17.15, 21; finally the long sequels to
the catastrophe in chs. 19 and 20, which put together diplomatic negotiations and a host of local celebrities from various
districts, are not, in this form, such features as would be likely
to grip the people.3 Another possibly very significant point
must be brought out here: the material is drawn from the
most serious and still unsolved problems of the nation's existence. A coherent representation of such a course of events
presupposes a situation in which passions have cooled and
friend and foe can arrive at an objective assessment of the
1. See G. Wildeboer, Die Litteratur des Alien Testaments (German
edition, Gottingen, 1895), pp. 53ff.
2. Cf. Sievers, Metrische Studien, III, pp. 92f.
3. Their mention is more reminiscent of courtly-courteous
addresses of the Muallakat.
70
matters that previously divided them; times must have

changed, with no one left alive who had fervently supported
David or Absalom.
Until the time is ripe for such an account, only biased
accounts are possible, that constantly remind the defeated of
their 'rights' and the victors of their 'success'. Our source is
certainly not such an account. Rather it is on the side of the
party vindicated by the events;1 but it does not become indignant against the intriguer Absalom, nor does it reprimand
him with the fourth commandment. It narrates in such a way
that one cannot shake off the impression that the author is
above erstwhile personal matters; his readers have not gone
through the events he narrates, and certainly do not get agitatedtime has passed beyond the cares and objects of dispute
of those days. One might think, too, of the government of the
land: from what point onwards does it regard a renewed concern with those times of ferment as opportune? An expose of
these could hardly come into being at some provincial out-ofthe-way place; it had to use direct traditions2 of some kind;
1. The narrator's position is on David's side. This is proved on one
hand by the courtly formulae devoted to him in 15.6, 7, 9, 15ff., 19, 21,
23, 25, 27; 16.2ff., 5f., 9ff., 14; 18.4f., 25; 19.3, 5f., 9-20, 24-26, 30, 32-35, 3944; 20.4, from the mouth of the narrator or the people in 15.3, 15, 21;
16.2, 9; 17.16; 18.12f., 19-21, 28, 31f.; 19.20-22, 27-29, 31, 35-38; 20.21f.,
from the mouths of characters in the action, among them whole
scenes of loyal submissiveness such as 15.15, 21, 32; 18.3 inter alia.
Absalom on the other hand is spared nothing detrimental: he is a
seeker of public favour (15.1-6); he involves honest people in bad affairs
(15.11); he dares to do nothing or else excessively wicked things (16.22);
the earlier dealings with the family (ch. 13) and the cenotaph (?) (18.18)
add to the picture. If Absalom had stayed on the throne we would have
a description of his relationship to his father similar to that of
Esarhaddon to Sennacherib in 681, who had not brought him back
from banishment. Just how many problems are involved in this violent
change of government is shown by C. Niebuhr (Ex Oriente Lux 1.4,
pp. 18f.). One might also read Ashurbanipal's annalistic inscriptions
(Rassam cylinder, I, 21-39).
2. Through the Sofer, an office which cannot, it is true, be conceived
of as without priestly education, but which by no means excludes a
non-hierarchical standing; contra W. Erbt (Die Hebraer [Leipzig,
1906], p. 103) one might refer to 2 Sam. 11; 1 Kgs 2.26 (1 Sam. 3.13f.) has
recourse to the criticism of the hierarchy.
71
wind of the intention of an expose would get about; it could be

prevented, and copies of it confiscated.
But quite apart from the attitude of the government of the
land, by the time a single popular narrator mastered such
material and could speak of it in such a calm way, indeed with
artistry and literary relish, this material must have gone off
the boilin fact it must have gone quite cold. One could even
draw the conclusion from this that the report must be much
younger than the events. But this is valid only if we are to
assume that we are dealing with a popular narrator. If he
worked for a reading public, then this assumption is groundlessfor that period. In that case he is, rather, a non-popular
narrator.
This brings us to a recent assessment of the Absalom narrator. B. Luther1 calls him a 'novellist' (a writer of novellas), his
work a masterpiece. There is no lack of features that speak for
such a designation.
Above all, the suspense is skilfully awakened, in the way
Absalom craves leavethe reader would not grant it to him
in the way the council of war is held, in the way the runners
catch up with the main body of David's army,2 and finally in
the way David gives the watchword that Absalom is to be
delivered to him alive.
Four times things go differently from what one would
expect;3 if such was the historical situation it is surely not just
coincidental that these are seen and made use of in the narrative.
The manner of speech of those concerned is not individualized, but is characterized in social terms: the subject (16.4); the
strivers (18.19-32); the trooper (18.11, 22; 16.9; 15.21); the elo1. See his article in this volume. Meyer would not like to go later
than Solomon with the time of composition.
2. There is no scientific objection to the assumption that a popular
subject of narration, namely how people used to be hidden, is being
accommodated at this opportunity'a lad, a man, the woman' seem to
be fixed figureseven though the detailed narrative could also stem
from the messenger's own report, which is what Duhm's Abiathar
hypothesis leads up to. The location would be noteworthy: Bahurim is
Shimei's locality.
3. 18.24-28 is also styled in this way, almost with a certain sophistication.
72
quent speaker (17.7-13)a prize example right from his initial apology for having to contradict the 'oracle' for once, to his
playing on fears (w. 8, 10) and on the attractiveness of procrastination and the reassuring hyperbole in v. 13; then there
is the prince, retiring, uncertain, reserved; and finally the
king, wretched, intimidating, terse, more forthcoming only
towards trusted friends, still keeping to etiquette after losing
his composure (19.1); and afterwards, Joab's quarrel with him
using the curt address 'yu'The changes of scene between the lovely peacefulness of the
morning in the fortress of Jerusalem and the lively scenes on
the march are excellently conveyed. The profusion of episodes
on the way, pressing ahead and sending back, encounters of
an embarrassing or a cheering natureall these pass by in
animated succession. One shares the impression of the way
stretching out ahead of the column, and one feels the jolt with
which thoughts have to be redirected to Jerusalem, to a city
that has become totally altered in the meantime.1
The characters' motives are very simple; sometimes bad
ambition (Absalom), profiteering (Ziba?, the runners), intransigence (Joab; the field that was set on fire must have been a
terrible threat) (14.30; Judg. 12.1), intrigue (Ahithophel);
sometimes goodloyalty, piety; but always they are private
and personal motives. The parties concerned proceed on the
principle of meeting cunning with cunning; the reader
regards the increase in this with a certain aesthetic, but not
ethical, satisfaction.
Individuals stand up to speak on behalf of the masses
(16.7ff.). (Luther [below, p. 109] exaggeratedly speaks of a conflict between Israel and the king instead of one between Benjamin and David.)
In the above work essential traits of that narrative technique that one may call 'novellistic' are specified: homogeneous action in connected stages, a small circle of actors, each
1. The narrator is altogether responsible for committing to paper
action spread over various settings and often occurring simultaneously. In his ordering of the material he gives a low priority to topographical or chronological considerations, if the flow of the account,
and thus the characters of the actors and the cohesion of the action,
would otherwise be too fragmented.
73
one of interest in his or her own right, each of the characters

being distinguished from the others; and in addition, two principles between which there does not have to be unconditional
harmony: on one hand local and situational colour in the
interests of vividness, and on the other, simplification of the
thinking of the participants to typical, universally human
impulses and intentions.
Luther sets the beginning of his Absalom novella as early as
ch. 13.* It would then be a character novella (Charakternovelle): the connecting thread between the various sections
would be simply the person of Absalom. He must then have
moved to the fore, like Joseph in Gen. 37.3. But 13.1 hardly
constitutes the pride of place that would be required for this.
Luther has probably been misled by the verse. If it is deleted as
a redactional heading helping to establish the pragmatic link
of chs. 13f.2 with 15f.and this is surely very likelythen
Absalom first appears where he is needed, namely in the lull in
the action (v. 20). Thus ch. 13 (whose relation to ch. 14 would
also require examination) becomes an independent literary
product,3 an action-novella (Handlungsnovelle).
A careful delimitation of the Absalom revolt source will not
allow us to go back beyond 15.1. 15.1-6 gives a brief introduction that is not yet story but background, not action but iteration, more dignified than Gen. 37.3, but comparable to it.
In v. 7 we have the exciting moment, followed by the
unremitting flow of the action up to 17.22. That a pause is
introduced there is evidenced by the way an incidental circumstance is caught up on (v. 23), for which the break is just
1. For P. Jensen, too (Das Gilgamesch-Epos in der Weltliteratur
[Strassburg, 1906-28], I, p. 501), who even more often shows a tendency
to react against the literary divisions of the Old Testament into sources
and fragments of sources, the Absalom story is 'unquestionably
homogeneous'.
2. Renan (Histoire du peuple d'Israel, II, p. 76) correctly sees that
already prior to the reconciliation in 14.33 internal politics had become
mixed up in the affair. Absalom was thus expected to strengthen the
dynasty.
3. As a rule (cf. also Bantsch, David, p. 143) the mythological features we get from the Amnon novella provide the basic supply of evidence that the account of the revolt is not historical.
74
right.1 Some text is indeed required between w. 22 and 24; the

two sentences do not fit directly together. Thus v. 23 cannot be
laid at the door of the person who compiled, from the sources
he had, the story of the reign of David; it can be better attributed to the author of the context. We cannot yet discuss to
what extent Absalom's and Ahithophel's ends are thereby
related, with a connection that might have to be called contrived. The second part of the source (as an aesthetic product it
cannot close with v. 22 or v. 23), similarly to the first, has
moved Absalom up to the fore as the driving factor. David is
always on the defensive, allowing his duties to come to him,
with a certain inclination to get out of their way if they lead
into crisis areas.
The historian must ask whether this picture of Absalom
does not simply derive from the fact that he lent his name to
the whole uprising, and the picture of David from the fact that
all kings pursue similar political tactics as soon as they are old.
Similarly to the march episodes mentioned earlier, now a
succession of battle episodes is drawn up. Most ancient oriental
battles, with the possible exception of the best-led Assyrian and
Egyptian campaigns, must have degenerated very quickly
into a wild confusion of man-to-man combat, with such difficulties of terrain and disorientation, thatand it does sound
rather comicalnot even the king can be sure of his life.2 And
1. The narrator, in dealing with Ahithophel when it suits him, here
proceeds much the same way as the writer of Mt. 27.3ff.
2. In 18.3 the soldiers do not directly express the fear that the king's
participation in the fighting might cost him his life, but are only saying that in this exceptional case it is of greater advantage to them if he
stays behind the front line; they can then fight without needing to
worry so much, feeling, 'We are not being watched'. Perhaps this
means, in this context: The opposition do not have it in for us ordinary
people. They will not be so determined to stop us fleeing; but if the
worst comes to the worst, if our losses are too heavy and there is no
mercy given, then it will be worse for us to have to do without your
intelligence and so on, than if we are able at least to count on you.' So
even if the soldiers are considering their own interests first rather
than concern for the king, they still see his life in danger if he joins the
front line. There is very little in the way of romantic chivalry involved
in their utilitarian consideration; it thereby provides its own verification, and one is led to surmise that nyn in 18.3 may be used precisely in
lieu of a formal council of war. So bold an abbreviation of the latter
75
then a deaf ear can be turned to even the strictest of orders

(IS.llff.).1 The final outcome of a battle often enough lay with
the circumstance whether it was fatigue or the need for booty
that was predominant. Such a battle can thus not be described
otherwise than in individual typical scenes, as far as 18.32.
To suit western tastes, the source could close here or with
the Joab scene which follows it. For the author's taste, however, there still remain problems, whose solutions are unhurriedly divulged. Various characters known to us reappear, are
commended, pardoned or reproved. In the midst of this are
two remarkable scenes involving the people (19.10ff. and
19.42ff.), which will be discussed below. These make it likely
could be explained by the fact that one has already been presented in
ch. 17.
1. The dialogue is 18.10-14 is very notable for the realism of the
source. 'I saw Absalom hanging at the terebinth (or to read along with
v. 9: in the terebinth)' is already a hint at a possibility that it would be
dangerous to mention. The superior is informed of a state of affairs
which suggests a particular line of action. If Joab takes responsibility
by giving an order, the reporting soldier is capable of anything. Joab,
however, is evasive: 'You should have killed him'. He can still go and
do it, but on his own responsibility, not Joab's. The only thing Joab
would be good for would be a premium which is supposed to facilitate
the decision to dare to undertake the deed on his own responsibility.
The man immediately sees, however, that he would then only be made
the scapegoat, and refuses the ticklish request with characteristic
words, cautiously steeped, moreover, in expressions of loyalty. It is not
until Joab realizes that the man is of no use for his purposes but that
the ideal opportunity on the other hand could be missed (v. 14a), that
the latter consideration gains the upper hand and he takes the risk
upon himself, for which he is better suited than others by virtue of his
position. The narrator, with a breath-taking leap, now moves to the following scene, as if the reporting soldier had not had to direct or lead
Joab to the spot. But it is necessary to imagine another change of location in v. 14. If Absalom were on the spot where the dialogue took place
then there would have been no need for Joab to be informed of his accident. The only alternative would be to think of Joab as coming along
subsequently in v. 10 and of Absalom as not having dared move up to
that moment. This supplementation would, however, be more awkward than that suggested for v. 14, where it is easy in narrating the
story to miss out 'and went there'.
76
that ch. 20, for which they are a preparation, belongs to our
source. 20.22 is then a definitive conclusion.1
In respect of the extension just discussed one cannot maintain that the document was written on account of Absalom; in
that case it would have had to conclude with 18.18. This is
therefore no character-novella. Nor is it an action-novella,
however, for even before the catastrophe, from the climax
onwards, the connecting thread becomes quite loose, and the
narrative proceeds like a series of pictures, not progressing
from act to act with any inner logic. Luther cannot exonerate
the account of the tail end of the action from this assessment
by lopping offch. 20 (below, p. 101) as an 'elaborate anecdote',
whose sole purpose is 'to relate the anecdote of the clever
woman who ended the war' (the woman? the occasion?). This
would never be applicable to w. 8-12 (cf. below, p. 108), and it
would still first have to be proved for the rest. It would be
equally possible that once he has got going, the author cannot
immediately make his conclusion, and his audience, whose
interest he has awakened, is not pressing him to finish. So he
keeps on narrating, with a series of events that are loosely
related to the principal action. One should not object that the
author could then not have been the master he showed himself to be in the mounting action, in his weaving of the plot and
in his painting of detail. For then the master would be measured against a stylistic ideal that is not his own. A person can
surely be a master qualitatively speaking, without being one in
quantitative respects also. He skilfully composes everything he
writes, but he does not have grand style; in one respect he is
more active in his treatment of his material and in the other
he is more passive. The cumbersome conclusions, moreover,
have international analogies. Mastery of the material flags
after the first-rate opening; finally the subject-matter is once
again in control and the author an obedient copyist of the factual material. This type of conclusions, which are not conclusions at all, cannot be fully appreciated unless account is taken
1. If one agreed with H. Winckler's attempt to transfer the Sheba
affair to the beginning of the joint kingdom of David (Geschichte
Israels [Leipzig, 1895], I, p. 174), one would have to abandon precisely
this valuable piece of the text.
77
of the heightened sympathy with the material that has overcome the author and his readers. This sympathy means that
an array of sequels are found interesting, which would not be
so in their own right; but it is the broad back of the main plot
that moves along and carries all these appendages; indeed the
memory of the best scenes of the main plot is reawakened in
the sequels; for this reason, too, the latter are still welcome and
the author is not called upon to go straight into his conclusion.
Our study has shown our document to have in some
respects flaws, from the aesthetic point of view. So far it has
been our concern to let the fault speak for itself as clearly as
possible. In qualification of this it can be allowed that the
author is certainly not invariably prone to the fault. Even as
the action winds down the author does not proceed without a
plan. Here, too, he has masterly scenes, such as the king at the
gate; and he stops when the status quo is reached. But there is
little point here in bringing up everything that might be said to
defend him against the criticism of an aesthete of the novella.
It will suffice if part of the criticism is valid. For it makes it a
fact that a very extensive part of the document runs counter
to the designation 'novella'. It may start off as a novella, but it
grows out of the confines of the novella.
Before this observation can be pursued further, attention
should be given to those scenes and details that it develops with
particular affection and understanding. For, if there is no getting away from the impression that it is not a popular work,
we need to look into which classes among the people are closest
to it
First of all, the priest is noticeable. Just to make sure that
everyone knows it: they were there too! They wanted to do
something, but the king would not let them. Indeed, they made
no great impact on the story of the revolt, neither then, nor by
their tale-bearing (17.15), which someone else would have
helped out with if they had been absent. Meanwhile, they have
to be involved. Thus as much or as little is mentioned about
them as could be researched.
So it is strange how, suddenly, in the middle of the flow of the
narrative, there is time to report where someone was born
(17.25). The nationas long as it does not refuse to be so, as in
19.42ff.is a grey mass, 'the people' (18.3). 15.2 is no different;
78
as if intentionally, a schematic note is struck there; petitioners

and appellants are always a monotonous array for anyone
who has to listen to them. Ziba alone is pinned down by name;
the narrator does nothing towards his defence. The man has
behaved disloyally; that will not be forgotten. But when one
character is a royal runner, and when the stupid Cushite
makes a faux pas, then everything is interestinghow they
do it, and what they have to say, especially when all kinds of
skills perfected at court are employed (18.29; cf. 16.16ff., and
the dialogue in 18.10-14).
Add to this the practised handling of courtly forms of
address, as in yiny instead of the first person singular and n
instead of the second person singular (18.27ff.).
The diwan, or court council of war (17.1-14), deserves special attention. Particular importance is attached to the way
the speeches develop. Ahithophel is the tireless, irreconcilable
principle of the revolt; he speaks with courage and resoluteness, briefly and to the point. Astonishingly enough, an opponent takes issue with him, but he does so very cautiously, taking an ad hominem line: The slightest slip-up1 at this point
would lose us our credibility', ^better safe than sorry', and so
on. Finally, an appeal to national self-confidence, and a clever
remark (v. 13) to answer a clever remark (v. 3).2 It proves to
be effective.
It is to the diwan that the author transfers the decisive
turning-point, even though it was not tongues, but sword and
spear that were the deciding factor.
Provision is made for an occasional mention of the 'aristocrats', even if they are merely the chorus of the play. Shimei is
also one of them (19.17). Certainly they and the courtiers were
two parties (17.6); but they each have to take account of the
other. The statement of the obvious in 15.15 seems successful;
the matter is only obvious if the king had no thought of slipping through the gate alone. Then it is important whether
1. In 17.8 a description is given of those left behind with David which

could easily have been swallowed by Joab.
2. In 17.3: n*>>3 instead offethe bride has no one but her husband in
mind.
79
someone's court privileges are to remain (19.29), and whether

new ones are to be granted (w. 32-39).
All this speaks clearly for the milieu of the author: civil servants, aristocrats, top men among the spiritual1 and the
worldlythe higher circles.2 It is to these that he belongs, and
for them that he narrates; the revolt turns into a threat to and
a re-establishment of the royal household.3 And in this class
there would have been the best chance of the art of reading
being at all widespread; here it is possible to narrate without
being 'popular'.
International relations are also always enjoyed in the upper
classes, and these were especially close with Egypt in Solomon's reign. Egypt was already the land of the novella. This
goes some way towards lifting the veil that lay over the origins
of this singular narrative style, unless one would dare to
assume that Israel must have produced it itself. Foreign parts
offered this style to the narrator.
What led him to heed the offer? Why did he not come to the
conclusion that he would have no audience for this kind of
thing at home? However, the question in this form does not
need to be posed with particular reference to the Absalom
source. In all probability this is not the first product in the style
of the novella, but already has precedents.4 In this case the
path was already cleared, marked out, in fact, for its author.
This helps define more closely the period to which that narrative belongs. At some time it had its heyday. Demand for it
was awakened and in evidence. Some kind of a cultured peak
must be associated with it; so too, the national situation must
create the right conditions. But not even all of this is sufficient
to explain why precisely such material as this has been shaped
in this style. Anyone who wanted to become a writer of novel1. If only the priests were given special mention, this could just
about be interpreted as the kind of mention given in certain regions to
the curate and the friar, who must always have some part. That would
still be popular style.
2. The ceremony observed at an act of reconciliation is meticulously
recorded (14.33).
3. Cf. J. Wellhausen, Israelitische und jiidische Geschichte (3rd
edn; Berlin, 1897), p. 61 n. 1.
4. Including, indeed, such as we have before us.
80
las could start with Ophir sea-adventures, with Rechabites or

other such entertaining subjects, but how the writer comes to
treat of such a bitterly real matter as Absalom's revolt and to
fashion a novella out of it, out of a matter that was vital to the
nation, is a question we must not lightly brush aside.
It will not be solved if one keeps to the designation 'novella',
no matter how great one imagines the time gap between the
event and the report. At least one would have to assume that
there was another Tendenz motivating the author. Perhaps,
at a time when broad sections of the people were divided over
the king, he wanted to recount a precedent as a lesson, in the
interests of the throne. Thus he does not speak merely of ambition, intrigue and other common human matters. But perhaps
the tendency could be expressed within the designation novella
with a practical, political purpose. The term 'novella' could
then be retained.
By what means is this purpose to be served? By an accurate
presentation of what happened, or, on the contrary, by using a
perspective from which the facts begin to speak for the overall
tendency?
It seems that we have come back to the point of departure at
which the investigation into the value of the sources began.
But that only seems to be the case. It has been shown that the
revolt was not artificially and subsequently placed into that
social milieu in which the source is most at home. That milieu
has already been confined to its true significance for the historical record, which thus has some prospect of appraising it
according to the actual course of events and of illuminating
the true significance of the lower classes, which has been
placed in some obscurity. It has also been shown how a variety
of embellishments in the novella style have gilded the surface
of the action. If we forgo utilization of the embellishments, we
are not left with nothing that can be utilized; on the contrary,
the major incidents then assume the shape appropriate to
their period, a shape still discernible in the depth of the report.
The moment when the subject matter gains the ascendancy
over its presenter does not actually signify the beginning of its
credibility at all, for the very reason that this was not in any
great danger beforehand, and, secondly, because the subject
matter would be particularly likely to confuse its describer
81
when it overcomes him. But instead of establishing general

considerations let us picture the noteworthy attempt to
describe mass movements in 19.10ff. and 19.42ff. Here the
technique of the novella is pushed to one side. The procedure of
placing on the lips of an individual things spoken on behalf of
many (B. Luther, below, p. 109) is not employed. This can
hardly be otherwise explained than by the impact of impression. Precisely this section must through mediation of some
kind go back to contemporaries of the events, and the author,
possibly born later, has incorporated it into his work of art,
connecting it closely to his sources. A later master of literary
forms would otherwise have had little difficulty in dressing
these scenes also in the garb of the novella. One would imagine
that the outbreak of popular feeling was most unwelcome to
certain circles, but they had to put up with it. Any special hopes
they had fostered were thereby buried. It was here that all the
privileged cultic personnel, all those who were economically
and legally superior had to give place to a voice that had previously lacked influence and which can be called loosely the
voice of'the people'. At any rate it was a class that had wanted
the monarchy and had itself become strong as a result. 19.10ff.
and 19.42ff. provide the justification for regarding the Absalomic revolt as a people's movement1 with deep-lying basic
feelings, sudden shifts of mood, uncertain waves of emotion
and powerful explosions2it cannot be seen as anything other
1. Not 'people' in contradistinction to the nobility, but including
them.
2. Renan (II, p. 73): 'L'Spisode frappe par son unit6 et 1'artince
savant de la narration, qui rappelle les historiens grecs'. Erbt (Die
Hebraer, p. 35) gives an idea of what significance will yet be attached to
this passage within the overall assessment of the Old Testament document: 'One is not in a position to describe cultural conditions. In
order to describe incidents in popular life, one chooses, as the "phraseological formula" is lacking, the way out offered in the narration of the
story of one case, and so on.' However apt this characterization may
be, our passage shows that a very early age was already capable of
other things too. When Jensen (Gilgamesch-Epos, I, pp. 542f.) draws a
parallel to 20.Iff. from the Behistun inscription, he apparently does not
shrink from maintaining that the report about Sheba was produced by
a post-exilic Jew about the time of Ezra. Any dependence on the style of
a common (Babylonian) archetypea report about revolutions from
82
than this, if only on account of the warlike events connected

with it. For the armies in whose hands the decision is laid do
not consist of first-rate mercenaries, as we learn from 15.19,
correctly interpreted. This understanding of the revolt, which
breaks through with elemental force in the second half of the
source, is one which the historian must try to pursue in the
first half also.
With extreme caution B. Luther (below, pp. 11 Of.) has put
forward his views on the credibility of the source. One can
hardly improve on his assessment of some of its statements.
This has now been confirmed in our discussion by a number of
reasons that should not be underestimated.
Now is the moment to draw tight a knot we tied above. For a
long stretch the Absalom material is too serious for a novella.
This obstacle does not persist interminably; but the closer the
author stands to the time of the event, the less his authority to
stir up and make use of this matter for entertainment or educational purposes. He and his audience are too close to the
material for this; he cannot win that freedom of viewpoint
towards it that is an absolute precondition for the writer of
novellas. Nor has the age of self-analysis yet arrived.
The only tendency that remains allowable is this: the author
wanted to teach by means of narration; but the field he wished
to influence by his teaching is that of internal politics, the
national one. If, instead, it had been the educational field, concerned with the training of the mind and the imagination,
then indeed one would have had to consider whether real
events would have been as suitable for instruction as contrived
ones. But in the realm of internal politics fictions about the past
are hazardous. If the people still have an impression of those
events through tradition, then fictions will do nothing to
unhinge it.1 True, the author liked to present occurrences
the official point of view and on the king's behalfwould have been
talked about.
1. This should not be confused with the once popular references to
the renowned powers of recall that orientals or primitive peoples have.
We are not talking generally of memories presumed to have been kept
alive out of piety or for fun or even out of stupidity, but of crises that are
partially responsible for the present situation of the people. Such
things are not forgotten until this present itself becomes past, and are
83
whose nature was open to question in line with his view, but
this does not amount to correcting the story.
But can it be doubted that the form of account he selected,
and which he initially handled with energy and skill, led him
into such a temptation? He has, after all, committed himself to
the style of the novella. Does he not thereby himself give the
critic the right to consider him capable of deviating from the
true course of events?
This means setting the requirement that he should have
done his narrating in another mode. Not in any new or
arbitary one, but in an established one. For anyone who wants
to instruct factually, not aesthetically, with his historical
account must not come with a foreign mode to which readers
will first have to accustom themselves; he will present the
material in such a way that the reader immediately feels at
home. So he has to look around among the current narrative
modesthe official document, the song, the epic, the popular
narrative. One might well sympathize with him that all of
these were unsuitable to him. The Document was unsuitable,
because it does not record life, but only the dead, not things in
process but only completed things, not souls but objects; and
thus it is not able to cope with the subject-matter and the educational purpose and it is as biased as anything else.
The Song would suit Absalom down to the ground. That the
author has not chosen the Song as a medium can only be
taken to mean that the revolt was not totally absorbed within
the person of Absalom as one might suppose; the prince is neither the soul nor the embodiment of the revolt; he provides a
name for it. Consequently no song tailored to a single person
could immortalize what was understood by Absalom's Revolt.
The Epic was ruled out straightaway because Absalom was
not victorious. Despite his curls and his monument, in him the
people did not have what they had in Moses and Joshua, or in
his father. If Absalom had been a greater figure than he was
certainly not forgotten through the gradual dying-out of a particular
generation. As against Jensen (Gilgamesch-Epos, I), who in the main
regards the story of David and his followers as a construction of the
dynasty designed to influence the people by suggestion, we would refer
to Winckler's repeated remarks on methodology; and what is known of
the apparatus of suggestion that would have been required?
84
there was no room for him in the limelight of popularity. Who

can now say for certain whether there was ever an Abraham
epic or a Moses epic? But in the judgment of the Israelites,
these men were more eligible candidates for epic glorification
than Absalom.
Anyway, they already figured in the Popular Narratives.
Whatever precise meaning is attached to this fluctuating concept, for the Israelites of the earlier monarchy it was a selfexplanatory and fairly well-defined genre. The subjects of
these popular narratives lay in the early period of the nation,
as far back as the chaos of the first Canaanite centuries, illumined only by individual heroes ('judges') shining as firm
stars amid the vicissitudes of particularism, fragmentation
and foreign domination. Times were now quite different. The
people had worked their way out. They were conscious of
having lived through an epoch. Behind them lay a past with
which they had lost close touch, politically and socially speaking, and whose culture was receding into the shadows in the
face of a new and high-potential present. The concern was to
heal the wounds of the past years and solve political and economic problems. The king carries on trade; it is now a period of
practical capability and earthly tasks. The period of the
founding of the religion and the conquest of the land was not
like this; the popular narratives preserved it as a quite different period, one when miracle and curse, fanaticism and idealism held good. It was precisely for this reason that the other
period, the one that had now arrived, was outside the scope of
the popular narrative style. The style has its own period.
When a certain series of subjects has been set down in this
style, the series tends to determine the type, and the genre
becomes delimited, to the exclusion of new developments. A
narrator who was a sober person could hardly disregard this.
If he did not live in a world of fantasy he could not attempt to
tell of David and Absalom in the same way as he might of
Abram and Lot, Jacob and Esau, Moses and Pharaoh or Moses
and Abiram. The popular narrative had had its flowering
period, and by its subject matter and its style it distinguished
itself from the experiences of the present; it was a good thing
not to try to modernize it artificially. Only the reverse
occurred: popular narratives were remodelled as novellas and
85
what was unpolished and rough and ready was made socially
acceptable, so to speak. But to fit the new period into the old
popular narrative would have marked a departure of quite
different proportions. How this might have worked out in
practice may possibly be indicated by those narrative texts,
occurring primarily in Genesis, behind whose individuals collectives are sought.
The author of the Absalom source, on the other hand, even
just by narrating the still recent events in a more modern and,
for his time, highly sophisticated form, stamped the subject
matter as topical.
That the author took the novella-style as his basis is not a
fact that one just has to accept. I think it has now been shown
what moved him to do this; our discussion has at a number of
points indicated also what influence the novella-style exercises
on the relationship of the document to the events. To recognize
the novella-style of the document does not now give us a mandate to treat it eclectically, believing one thing and not another.
Of course it cannot be disputed that in such a style as this an
author can allow himself added ingredients. But these are
such as leave the course of the events untouched, i.e. psychological colouring, speeches and so on. Even in respect of these,
conservative caution is recommended: leitmotifs and famous
sayings may be original.1
The author seems to sharpen up the context of the events,
creating an exciting suspense for his audience. In so doing, he
is led by the feeling that the people who experienced those
events were also in great suspense as to what would happen.
This original suspense is irretrievably lost; for the denouement
it eventually received has made history, and author and
reader alike are unable to remove its consequences, which
reach into the present, from their consciousness. The narrator's only remaining possibility is, by means of a substitute suspense, to transport readers into a situation where they will
relate to the material in a similarly lively way as contempo1. This would apply to sayings of David, as also in other David
sources which are presented immediately beside one another, without
interruption from another speaker, e.g. 15.37f. On 16.13f. see Theologische Studien... Theodor Zahn dargebracht (Leipzig, 1908), p. 27.
86
raries did to the events. He can achieve suspense by clever

anticipation or by the suppression of important data, by
remarkable sayings of his heroes, by the ordering of the
sequence of scenes and situations, by contrasting crises whose
coincidence no one had noticed during the actual course of
events, but above all by condensing the action even at the
expense of all the connecting gradual developments and
preparations. Could he be so far advanced in this as to neglect
to date things and to alter locations and chronological
sequences? Each case can only be considered on its merits. One
observation would immediately speak against it: it seems that
from 15.13 to 17.22 everything occurs in the space of one day.
One might first suppose that the writer has compressed into
twenty-four hours what occurred over a longer period. In that
case, however, one would have expected that when using such
a device he would have paused and ensured that it would not
escape the reader's notice; perhaps with something like:
T)avid said, "This morning I awoke in my palace without a
care; but now where shall I lay my head?"' The author
indulges in none of this. Should it appear that indeed such
swiftness in the action is an essential precondition for its possibility, then we would have a positive indication for the historicity of the concentration of so many scenes on one day.
The fact that here and towards the end of the source the
influence of the style of the novella on the presentation of the
events is questioned, is not to say that where the novella-style
flags, complete confusion and lack of control begin. On the
contrary, it can be claimed that the style of the novella has
become the point where narrative literature passes through
into real historiography, as far as the latter was possible on
Israelite soil; one might think of the continuous historical
works whose period is soon to begin, not the 'court journals' of
the kings of Israel and Judah, but the older Saul-David
source, the Elohist and the Yahwist, and such a clever,
thoughtful redactor as that of Genesis 12-14 (for us, often all
too clever). According to Meyer,
It is astonishing that such historical literature was possible in
Israel at that time. It stands far above everything we otherwise
know of ancient oriental historiography, above the dry official
annals and above the fairy-tale stories of Egyptian popular liter-
87
ature. It really is neither the one thing nor the other. It is real,
genuine history, rooted in a living interest in the actual events,
which it endeavours to comprehend and to record. If these chapters had not been preserved for us, we would have considered it
unthinkable that such a thing could ever have emerged on
Israelite soil.1
These words of praise from the historian's lips, who unfortunately has a considerably lower estimation of the later, continuous historical works, have been expounded in our discussion
with respect to the Absalom source. This document does not
provide history in the sense that the historian has only to reiterate it. The style of the novella has ordered the account's
relationship to the facts in such a way that one can speak of an
abridgment. All the details of the novella type noted on pp. 72f.
can be subsumed under this term. Abridged are the dimensions of the factors involved, the emotions, the intervals, the
accompanying circumstances, the background history and
the after-effects. Abridged; it is not so, then, that nothing of any
value is left after novella-type additions have been stripped
away. Rather the task consists in properly re-expanding and
compensating for the areas where abridgment is recognized.
Actual history has not disappeared as a result of the abridgment. It is still there. But no longer is everything there that we
need and can establish from other sources.
It became clear to the author of the Absalom source, as he
described the revolt, that this was not novella material. And so
with his greater purposes he grew. His product embodies the
transition of the national literature from the novella to historiography.2 He draws the facts to a slightly reduced scale; but
1. Meyer, Die Israeliten, pp. 486f. The following, non-theological

view is also worth mentioning: 'The Israelite tradition, despite its
lamentable eclecticism in the requirements it made of itself, stands
closest of all oriental accounts to historical sensitivity that is schooled
in reality' (C. Niebuhr, Ex Oriente Lux, 1.4, p. 40).
2. By history he means the dealings of notable persons with his
nation and with one another, always in a mutual relationship to Yahweh. Consequently it is not just the persons themselves that become
his subject, and it is for this reason that in portraying them he already
makes use of that highly esteemed artistic device, indirect characterization (cf. also Budde, Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel, p. 272).
88
the bounds of recognizability are not crossed; it is an excerpt of

history that he reports, but history it is.
THE NOVELLA OF JUDAH ANDTAMAR

AND OTHER ISRAELITE NOVELLAS
Bernhard
Luther
Judah and Tamar. The Qedeshes1

The story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38 introduces us, as
few other accounts do, into the life of the tribes in Palestine.
Consequently the story also presents us with puzzles, not all of
which we are able to solve, given our present state of knowledge. Of the commentators, Gunkel certainly gets closest to
the spirit of the story, but even he is unable to answer all the
questions.
The chapter falls into four parts: (I) the settlement of Judah,
his marriage and sons; (II) Judah's sons and Tamar; (III)
Judah and Tamar; (IV) the birth of Perez and Zerah.
In purpose and style the third part is clearly distinguishable
from the others. Parts I, II and IV are genealogical, briefly
recounted, more fully so only at the birth of Perez and Zerah,
because their names are to be explainedin just the same
way as J recounts the birth of the sons of Jacob. Part III is a
novella furnished with colourful detail.
Our most important task is to separate this novella from its
present context and to understand it on its own. Tamar
craftily procures for herself sexual intercourse with Judah.
Gunkel declares: 'The forceful woman takes the most
extreme course open to an honourable lady; she puts herself on
the level of a despised prostitute'. Here it should immediately
be noted that although according to v. 15 Tamar has disguised
herself as a whore (nnr), in v. 21 she is called a 'qedeshah'.
1. Translator's note: The term 'qedeshes' is retained from Luther's
study to signify those generally referred to as 'cult prostitutes', both
male and female.
90
True, for the prophets and the Deuteronomist 'whore' and

'qedeshah' are identical; but we ought still to assume a distinction, even if this is not expressly attested by Hos. 4.13,14: They
sacrifice on the tops of the mountains and make offerings
upon the hills. Therefore your daughters play the harlot and
your brides go astray (mawn DDTvto; *)W is not only 'commit
adultery* but a synonym for rur; rfo is best translated TDride'). I
will not punish your daughters when they play the harlot, nor
your brides when they go astray.'
Tor they (the priests) go aside with harlots, and sacrifice
with the qedeshes (nitzhp).'1 The qedeshes are thus identical to
rrto here, since both are said to *]t. The qedesh-state here is
still closely linked to the cult. This is clear from Amos 2.7 also:
'A man and his father go in to the same maiden, so that my
holy name is profaned'. This is the state of affairs in Israel.
According to 1 Kgs 14.24, 15.12 and 22.46, there were zrtfip,
that is male qedeshes, in Judah. Indeed even in Jerusalem
there were some who were allocated special rooms in or at the
temple of Yahweh (2 Kgs 23.7). Otherwise we only hear of
female qedeshes in Judah in Deut. 23.17, 18. Were there no
female qedeshes in Judah, are they included in the Kings passages, or does the Deuteronomist mention them only because
they exist in Israel (in the narrower sense)? These are questions which our material prompts us to ask, but which we
cannot answer.
The Deuteronomist is keen to do away with the institution of
the qedesh(ah)-state (Deut. 23.17, 18): There shall be no cult
prostitute of the daughters of Israel, neither shall there be a
cult prostitute of the sons of Israel. You shall not bring the hire
of a harlot (mir ]n) or the wages of a dog into the house of the
Lord your God.'
pnR is a technical term in Hos. 9.1: 'Rejoice not, O Israel!
Exult not (bR for *?K; cf. Marti, following LXX) like the peoples;
for you have played the harlot, forsaking your God. You have
loved for a harlot's hire (]]n) on all threshing floors.' Mic. 1.7:
1. In his commentary, Marti refers to Exod. 32.6, in the story of the
golden calf: first they sacrifice, then eat and drink, and then inp'i
pnx1?'they rose up to play'. This is without doubt to be understood sexually, as in Gen. 26.8. Wild dancing with singing and rowdiness
would of course accompany this (cf. Exod. 32.17-19).
LUTHER The Novella ofJudah and Tamar
91
'All her (Samaria's) images shall be beaten to pieces, and all

her hires ()]n) shall be burned with fire;...for from the hire of
a harlot (rmr )TIK) she gathered them, and to the hire of a harlot
they shall return'. Hos. 2.12: 'And I will lay waste her vines
and her fig trees, of which she said, "These are my pntt (for
nriR), which my lovers have given me"'.
From these passages the following picture emerges. Associated with the festivals celebrated at the sanctuaries (high
places), e.g. the harvest festival, is prostitution in the service of
the divinity. The presents which the qedeshes receive belong
(at least in part) to the divinity. The most important question
now is: were there professional female qedeshes, or are we to
understand the situation as being similar to that described by
Herodotus (1.199) in Babylonia and Cyprus? Here every
woman must once in her life prostitute herself at the temple of
Mylitta (Aphrodite) in honour of that goddess. Rich girls ride
to the temple in a festive cortege, with numerous attendants.
The money which the women receive from the men is consecrated money; and they themselves are consecrated to the
goddess after the sacred prostitution. Herodotus did not fully
understand this custom. Is it immaterial when this prostitution takes place, or is it linked to a particular time? The custom
surely only has a deeper significance if by this act the girl presents her virginity as a sacrifice to the goddess. Perhaps there
is some connection of the institution to circumcision, which
was originally practised only on males who had reached adolescence.1
From the passages cited it seems out of the question that
there were professional qedeshes in Israel. Probably here too
the girls were prostituted once only, in order to be consecrated
to the divinity. The custom seems to have been fairly
widespread (in Israel and Judah). Whether the practice is a
vestige of an earlier period or imported from outside (in 2 Kgs
23.7b it is linked with the Asherah), we do not know.
1. Is circumcision connected with the male qedesh-state? Or are we

to assume that there were boys who were professional qedeshes? On
this point we are considerably less well informed than concerning
female qedeshes.
92
Among certain peoples there was no dishonour involved in a

girl's becoming a qedesh; on the contrary, it was considered to
be her religious duty. The step taken by Tamar should thus be
understood differently from the way Gunkel understands it.
The qedesh wears clothing that distinguishes her from the
harlot. She masks herself with a veil, which she afterwards
removes. Girls do the same thing before their wedding (e.g.
Rebekah and Leah). The words Tor she had covered her face'
(v. 15), if they are not a gloss, are only intended to explain why
Judah does not recognize her; he takes her for a harlot because
she is sitting at the roadside. Qedeshes are dressed like brides.
This supports our earlier supposition that only girls can be
'qedeshes'which seems clear also from Hos. 4.13, 14. But
Tamar is a woman, and she thus infringes the cultic customs.
This leads to the question, which arises on other grounds too:
Was Tamar perhaps originally more closely associated with
Judah? Was she Judah's bride? Even in the present form of
the narrative, the indications that Tamar was a widow and
the daughter-in-law of Judah are easily removed. In v. 2 it is
striking that the name of Judah's wife is not givenwas it
Tamar, perhaps? Perez and Zerah ought really to be the sons
of Er; in fact they are regarded everywhere as sons of Judah.
There remains one question-mark which admittedly I am
not able to dispose of completely. In v. 15 Judah thinks Tamar
is a whore (rmr); thus to him mir and ntfip must be identical.
From this one might assume that the institution of the
qedeshes has lost its religious sense, and that nehp has become
simply a homonym of runbut for the fact that the cited texts
tell against this too strongly! Or, alternativelya delicate
touch by the narrator hereJudah considers Tamar to be a
whore, Hirah on the other hand sees her as a qedesh; that is,
Judah (Israel) is not conversant with cult prostitution, while
the old inhabitants of the land are.
The active characters in the novella are Judah, Tamar and
Hirah. Hirah now plays a very subordinate role, but was certainly more dominant at one stage in the underlying account.
It is open to question whether Judah originally belongs here, or
whether the author of Genesis 38 introduced Judah when he
appropriated the novella. There is support for the latter view
in that nothing is told us of the background (people or tribe) of
LUTHER The Novella of Judah and Tamar
93
Tamar and Hirah. In a narrative concerning Judah this is

surely striking; when the author wants to relate the beginnings of the tribe of Judah, in speaking of Judah's wife in w. 2
and 12, her lineage and her people are far more important
than her name, which he does not give at all. To give his narrative vitality, he has used the narrative of the qedesh Tamar.
Thereby he has followed a prevailing habit in the literature of
the period; for the historical narratives are mostly related with
novellistic techniques and motifs. In order to demonstrate this
it will be necessary to undertake a more extensive digression.
The Introduction of the Novella into the David Literature
Historical narratives and anecdotes
1. In the David literature we can observe the introduction of
the novella more clearly than elsewhere. Just as the novella
derives in content from myth, so in form it develops out of
hero-songs. There seem to have been hero-songs about David
too, for, as also in the narratives concerning him, not only are
songs cited that are put into his mouth (2 Sam. 1.17ff.; 3.33f.;
23.1ff.) but also other poetic sayings (1 Sam. 18.7 = 21.12; 29.5;
2 Sam. 20.1).
2. At least the short notices at 2 Sam. 3.2-5; 5.13-15; 8.20, 2326; 21.15-22; 23.8-39 derive from a time when the hero-songs
were still commonly known. We can differentiate three
groups among them:
(a) lists (i) of David's sons (3.2-5; 5.13-15), (ii) of David's officers (8.16-18; 20.23-26), (iii) of David's heroes (23.24-39).
(b) heroic feats of David's loyal men (21.15-22; 23.8-12, 1317, 18-23). These four feats clearly have a different origin. All
these deeds, with the exception of 23.18-23, are perpetrated
against the Philistines; the war against the Philistines was
evidently the most popular one. 21.15-22 contains only fights
with giants1showing the influence of legend on the narra1. They are called rain n'r. The Philistine battles of 5.17-25 take
place in the valley of D'usn. It seems that some kind of connection must
be assumed. The giants come from Gath just as Goliath does in 1 Sam.
17.4. Also from Gath comes Obed-Edom in 2 Sam. 6.10, who, if the
assumption on p. 95 n. 2 is correct, lived on the plain of D'KEn. There is
94
tive. 23.8-12 very briefly relates deeds of a non-legendary

nature by David's three heroes and is little more than a list
(similar to 23.18-23). 23.13-17 is a small, coherent narrative
which is compiled from two motifs, namely: (1) penetration of
the enemy camp, repeated in Judg. 7.9f.; 1 Sam. 14.6f.; 26.6f.
and thus very popular; (2) David rejects the water, a motif
which, as is well known, recurs with Alexander the Great.
These two motifs are merely juxtaposed and are not inherently connected. No problem is posed and no knots tied; the
suspense and resolution characteristic of the novella are still
completely absent.
Precisely these heroic feats will probably have formed the
content of the hero-songs also. The short notes we have may
possibly have served as an aid to a singer's memory.
(c) A list of David's wars and conquests, with some detail
(2 Sam. 8.1-6, 13, 14).1 Reports are given of David's wars
against the Philistines, Moabites, Zobah, Aramaeans of Damascus, Edomites. To start with, it is striking that the Ammonites are missing, even though in chs. 1012 the Ammonite
war is narrated with relatively full detail. Saul has conquered
the Ammonites (1 Sam. 11), who are thus subjects of David,
and our list does not speak of David's wars against his subjects.
It is noteworthy how exactly the political effects of the wars
are detailed, an aspect for which later novellistic historiography often has no appreciation at all: Edom is made totally subject (DHUD) in v. 14; Moab also becomes DH3P but pays tribute
(v. 2), thus apparently having a somewhat freer dependent
relationship. Aram is made liable to tribute, and David
a whole knot of traditions, some mutually contradictory, which we
cannot unravel; proof of this lies in the few remains left to us from a
rich mass of tradition.
1. -j^n -ffito *7D3 in n nw MzKi>i occurs at the end of vv. 6 and 14. This
indicates that behind v. 6 an interpolation has been made, namely
w. 7-12 (11, 12 are actually already suspect, but also 7-10 do not fit with
1-6, 13, 14). I see no reason to contest the great antiquity of this list; its
thoroughly original detail alone is evidence for this. For further evidence, see above. This list does not cntain everything that the author
knows. It is only an excerptbut not from the written but the oral tradition. It is superior in historical value to many other parts of the
David story.
95
appoints governors (v. 6); the Philistines are merely humiliated (v. 1).
These few (about sixty) verses thus offer us a glimpse of a
rich, multi-faceted narrative literature that is centred on
famous kings and heroes. It is partly anecdotal, partly historical. Some of the anecdotal narratives are still quite legendary,
others have become emancipated from legend and depict
occurrences which are indeed out of the ordinary, but still
within the realm of the possible (from the author's point of
view, of course). Besides lists, the historical literature is represented by pieces which show political understanding for the
historical events. These passages may have originated at the
same time, but there is no question of their having come from
the same author. It is possible that they were put together at
quite an early stage by a collector.1
3. The detailed war narratives of 2 Sam. 5.17-25 (victories
over the Philistines) and ch. 10, 11.1 and 12.26f. (war with
Ammonites and Aramaeans) show an advanced technique. It
should not be maintained that they are also therefore more
recenta younger technique never completely displaces an
older oneor that they are more valuable on account of the
advanced technique. At least the narrative of the Philistine
war does not measure up to 2 Samuel 8. Apart from this, the
two narratives differ so fundamentally that we must discuss
them separately.
(a) 2 Sam. 5.17-25 reports on two battles against the Philistines close to Jerusalem,2 near Baal Perazim and by the balsam wood. David is already king of Israel, but apparently not
lord of Jerusalem, which may have been a Philistine
stronghold (Budde). As king of Israel he has to continue the
Philistine war. Like all the accounts of the hostilities against
the Philistines this one is also 'epic-rhapsodic' (Budde). The
narrator emphasizes the intervention of Yahweh. Yahweh is
1. Budde (Die Bucher der Richter und Samuel, p. 224) speaks of the
'dragnet of the great sources, J or E'. The collector of these passages
discussed above has used a dragnet; for this reason his style differs
fundamentally from the style of the Yahwist and the Elohist.
2. The plain of Rephaim lies, according to Josh. 15.8 and 18.16, close
to the south of Jerusalem.
96
consulted before both battles. The first time he answers simply

Yes', and the other time he gives a fuller answer (w. 23, 24):
David is to attack the Philistines not frontally but from behind,
out of the balsam wood. 'And when you hear marching in the
tops of the balsam trees then take heed: for then Yahweh will
go forth before you to smite the Philistines.' This cannot be the
Yahweh of the Ark; rather it is the God of the tribes of the
south, who reveals himself in the weather. We are reminded
of the song of Deborah, where the stars join in the fighting
(Judg. 5.20). We can easily think of our narrative as a heroic
poem. The heroic poem would describe and focus on Yahweh's
marching in the tree-tops, similar to the way in which Judg.
5.4f. treats the appearance of Yahweh in the weather.
The battle at Baal Perazim and that at the balsam wood are
portrayed with strongly differing techniques. The former is
described in a similar style to the Yahwist's (there is nothing
but natural occurrences, which may really have happened as
described, and name-giving), the latter strongly influenced by
myth. It is most probably correct to suppose that the two
descriptions have in mind the same battle, by means of which
David became lord of Jerusalem,1 according to 8.1. If this is so,
we can follow the growth of the tradition and at the same time
the difference between realistic and legendary presentations.
The underlying tradition is this: David asks Yahweh whether
he should wage war on the Philistines, and Yahweh answers,
yes. Thus v. 19 quite simply reports. Then a poet sings of the
battle in traditional epic fashion. Yahweh himself appears in
the song, fighting. Possibly, some event during the battle (a
storm) gave him an opening. In the brief repetition (w. 22-25)
the narrative is brought into line with the tradition: Yahweh
promises his help in the oracle. And finally the two reports are
put together, and the single battle becomes two.
1. Following Kittel's translation given in Kautzsch. Is Baal Perazim
perhaps identical to Perez-uzzah (2 Sam. 6.8) and Baal in Judah
(2 Sam. 6.2)? In that case in the last passage David would have had to
bring in the Ark from the immediate vicinity of Jerusalem. MT would
have changed rrnrr '"?w (at Baal) to 'Vian (from Baal) because in another
tradition the Ark had been in Kiriath-jearim (1 Sam. 7.1). For the
same reason, Kiriath-jearim is then repeatedly expressly identified
with Baal (Josh. 15.9-11, 60; 18.14).
97
(b) 2 Sam. 10; 11.1; 12.26-31. It seems clear to me that this

account of the wars with Ammonites and Aramaeans once
had a separate existence outside the context of the Bathsheba
story. Admittedly we may not cite the Chronicler as evidence
for this: the Chronicler has left this story out for well-known,
tendentious reasons, because it mars his picture of David. If we
extract the story of David and Bathsheba from chs. 10-12, we
are left with an uninterrupted account of the war. And in the
story of David and Bathsheba itself we find nothing that could
complement the account of the war; for such details as the
death of Uriah are totally excluded here. On the other hand
the narrative of David and Bathsheba is quite unthinkable in
isolation; it always stood connected with the account of the
Ammonite and Aramaean war. The facts of the matter are
then as follows. First came the account of the wars (10; 11.1;
12.26-31). A subsequent author wrote a narrative into which
he transferred this war report word for word (probably using
detail which he knew from elsewhere), linking it with his narrative of David and Bathsheba. The connection is not very
close, but close enough to make it impossible for his own
material to be separated from that which he appropriated.
Two important results emerge from this: (1) the historical
narrative of the Ammonite and Aramaean wars is older than
the novella of David and Bathsheba; (2) we see how this novellist uses the historical narrative for his own ends.
The war narrative proper begins at 10.6. It stands unique in
the whole of the Old Testament by virtue of its understanding
for the events of war (although Judg. 9 might also be considered). The war lasts for two years. In the first year two battles
take place: one against the united Ammonites and Aramaeans
from Beth-Rehob and Zobah, joined by the kings of Tob and
Maacah; the other against the Aramaeans of Beth-Rehob and
Zobah with the kings who joined forces with them, and against
their allies, the Aramaeans beyond the river.1 The first battle,
or rather Joab's battle plan, is described particularly fully. The
Israelites are attacked on two flanks and must therefore split;
1. -inj in 10.16 and 8.3 is probably the Jordan [?E. Meyer]. The Aramaeans "inn -own are thus in 8.5 Aramaeans from Damascus [?E.
Meyer].
98
the part that is victorious first is to give support to the other.

Joab's orders to his army conclude with the words, *May Yahweh do what seems good to him'. Yahweh is a God of war, but
Joab does not expect his personal intervention; everything
takes its natural course. The Aramaeans thereupon conclude
peace with David.1 In the second year Kabbah, the Ammonite
capital, is conquered and its population thoroughly subjugated.
This war account takes a similar tack to 1 Samuel 8. It must
represent a certainly richer literature which we are sorry to
have lost. And even our possession of this remainder we perhaps owe to the happy chance that it was connected with the
novella of David and Bathsheba.
The most important technical advance on 2 Samuel 8 lies in
10.1-5. Here the author seeks to explain how the war comes
about. He does not show the same expertise in this as in the
war account; he wants to give the causes of the war but is only
able to indicate that the princes (sarim) of the Ammonites
have incited the king, who then gravely insults David. It is also
possible of course that this account wishes to put the
responsibility for the war on the Ammonites for tendentious
reasons. Verses 1-5 are distinct from what follows; one could
therefore conclude that they have been interpolated. However,
this is unlikely to be the case. The author introduces a new
element into the description of the war: an account of its underlying causes. This task is considerably more difficult than
the depiction of military events and can only be achieved at a
high level of historiography. The task is particularly difficult
for a military person, for quite different intellectual abilities
are necessary for it. The standing of our author is thus
undamaged by the fact that he traces the war's origins to personal whims and thereby comes close to anecdotal narrative.
4. Many passages in the David story contain detailed narratives of an anecdotal type. To these belong everything that is
reported of David in 1 Samuel, and in 2 Samuel all accounts
which deal with the relationship of David to the Saulides. The
anecdotes relate a particular event from the hero's life, mostly
to his credit. Some of it may actually be genuine tradition, but
1. oratf"! is presumably an addition.
LUTHER The Novella of'Judah and Tamar
99
alongside this the narrator's imagination has enjoyed plenty of

scope. Only in very rare cases shall we be able to distinguish
reality and imagination. In consequence of this a historical
evaluation of the anecdotes is hardly feasible. The historian
can consider only their underlying purpose and the basic political circumstances that are presupposed. In fact, these anecdotes treat of two themes only: (a) David's relationship to Saul
and his family; (b) David's life as a bandit in the wilderness
(and in association with this, his relationship to the
Philistines).
(a) David's relationship to Saul. These apparently coherent
narratives report how an unknown young man comes to Saul.
He is well received by Saul at first, and is then persecuted
without cause even though he has previously made a Yahweh-covenant with Saul's son. David has to flee to the wilderness, and Saul follows him even there. David could have killed
Saul at one time but magnanimously spares his life. Later he
kills the men who have killed Saul and Ishbosheth and takes
the only remaining survivor of Saul's household, Mephibosheth, into his house. As long as Saul lives, David is the innocently
persecuted one, and after his death the magnanimous pardoner. The role he plays is strange. He never acts on his own
initiative, merely defending himself against external
attacksexcept for those cases where he can prove his magnanimity. He is purely a private person, portrayed not without
sentimentality; there is no sign of any political sense.
Nonetheless we must not take these anecdotes too lightly.
They are a necessary intermediate stage. At least it is an
attempt not merely to regard people as representatives of their
station but to explore the human, the individual in them. That
is why all supernatural factors are absent here, too.1
Just how tendentious this account is, is shown by 2 Sam.
16.8, where Shimei curses David because he has spilt the blood
of the house of Saul. Now we have a further narrative concerning David's relationship to the Saulides in 2 Sam. 21.1-14,
1. The supernatural is not reintroduced until later, under the influence of the David and Goliath tradition. This narrative relates to the
anecdotes discussed above as J2 and E do to J1.
100
which departs so markedly from the other accounts that it

cannot possibly come from the same author. Because of a
three-year famine David consults the oracle of Yahweh. The
latter replies: bloodguiltiness rests on Saul and his household
because he has put Gibeonites to death. In recompense the
Gibeonites demand that seven men of the descendants of Saul
be handed over to them to die on the mount of Yahweh near
Gibeon (the means of death is unknown to us). David does as
they demand.1 This narrative admits that the Saulides have
been killed on David's orders but clears him of all guilt.2
(b) David's life as a bandit in the Negeb (1 Sam. 22.1-4,15, 30),
and his sojourn with the Philistines (chs. 27, 29). In these
highly perceptive narratives, David is depicted totally without
sentimentality, though also without any political judgments.
The true Bedouin point of view finds expression here. David's
expeditions are nothing but pillaging and plundering raids.
The local inhabitants have to be grateful when the horde leave
them in peace and must give them rich presents on feast-days
in return. Yahweh is firmly on David's side; David's enemies
are his enemies. Chapters 30 and 25 are particularly good
examples of the elaborate anecdote, especially ch. 25 (David
and Nabal). David demands presents of Nabal, who refuses to
give them. In his anger David wants to kill him and all his
men. Abigail prevents him from doing this, giving David the
presents on behalf of her husband. Nabal dies within a few
days, smitten by Yahweh. David praises Yahweh for giving
him revenge on Nabal and simultaneously keeping him from
wrong. Thus even this narrative stops short of a bloody deed
that might have been laid to David's account. There are obviously good reasons for the agreement on this point of accounts
which in other respects are so different. David knew no personal desire for revenge, and only killed as and when it seemed
politically necessary to him. His political genius, which made
him lord over Israel, rests partly on this fact.
1. The scene in which Rizpah keeps vigil (v. 10) is presumably older
and has been taken over by the author.
2. We may find in v. 14 (D'nS>, elsewhere always nvr) the remains of
yet another account. According to this Elohim has imposed a punishment which he does not lift until Saul and the Saulides are buried.
101
We may also reckon Sheba's revolt (2 Sam. 20)1 among the

elaborate anecdotes. The story of the rebellion is there simply
in order to relate the anecdote of the clever woman who ended
the war. Probably the author used an account of Sheba's revolt
but did not treat it with the same respect as did the author of
the Bathsheba story vis a vis the account of the war of the
Ammonites and the Aramaeans. Whereas in v. 2 the whole of
Israel rises against David, Joab is satisfied when Sheba is killed,
and withdraws without re-establishing the rule of David. Thus
here all understanding for the reasons for the revolt is also
absent, the author being content to declare Sheba to be an tf'K
^^a (v. 1). The historical accounts are adapted for use as
anecdotes.
Novellas and Narratives with Novellistic Technique
a. Just as detailed Narrative2 needs several motifs, so too does
the novella; but the principal difference between the two
genres is shown in the way in which they combine the motifs.
In the Narrative it suffices if each motif is connected with the
previous one and the following one. In the novella all the
motifs have to be interconnected so that the whole narrative
coheres internally. The whole novella develops out of one basic
motif. This motif contains a conflict that must be resolved, or a
complex situation that must be unravelled. The hero stands
within this conflict or this situation, so that he is much more
internally involved than in the Narratives. So it is that the
novella looks for psychological detail and precise explanations
and, with a developed technique, brings out a personality
sketch of the characters corresponding to all they do and say.
1. The chapter is awkwardly composed. Verse 23 interrupts the context. The transfer of the high command to Amasa and then to Joab is
striking. Verses 8-13 (Joab kills Amasa)
certainly do not belong here;
cf. the repetition of nD3~p JQB nnn fn1? (v. 7) in v. 13. See, further,
p. 108.
2. Translator's note: For the sake of clarity, the word 'Narrative' has
been capitalized in contexts where the author has used the word
Erzahlung to denote a literary genre in contrast to the novella. Elsewhere Erzahlung has the more general sense of 'narrative' (occasionally rendered by 'account').
102
The novella first creates suspense in the listener and later dissolves it.
The story of David and Bathsheba, considered independently, of course, of the Ammonite wars, bears the most distinctive traits of the novella. The basic motif is the adultery.
Already noticeable here is the retardative epic technique
which marks this whole novella. The adultery has no immediate consequences, which occur only with the pregnancy.
David has to step in at this point to spare Bathsheba from
shame and an ignominious punishment (possibly death) and
himself from, at the least, very embarrassing consequences.
He summons Uriah from the besieging army in the hope that
he will spend the night with his wife, so that the child can pass
for his own. However, Uriah does not go home even though
the king detains him for another day and then another and
finally makes him drunk. Thereupon David dismisses him
and decides on his death. He sends a letter to Joab who immediately carries out the order. The narrative now becomes
retardative again. Uriah's death was related quite quickly,
without details; now the author narrates slowly in order to
keep the listener or the reader in suspense as to how David will
behave. His concern is with the psychological dimension, the
factual aspect is incidental to him. There is a lovely contrast
between David's anger against Joab when he hears that the
warriors have fallen during the attempt to storm the wall and
the change of mood when he hears that Uriah is also dead.
After the period of mourning he takes Bathsheba in, and she
bears him a son. Yahweh sends Nathan1 to David, and David
acknowledges his sin. Because of this, Yahweh does not kill
1. Since Nathan is a prophet, the report of his appearance has later
been revised. What is old and what is additional material in 12.1-14 is
certainly difficult to establish; but it is hardly acceptable to delete the
whole passage with Schwally, Smith and Budde (Die Biicher der
Richter und Samuel). The reason given, that in 1 Kings 1 Nathan
plays a quite different role, is invalid; the most this can prove is that
1 Kings 1 has a different author. Nathan is a OJ in 1 Kgs 1.8, 23, 24, 38,
44 and 45. To delete R':u (Schwally) is out of the question because of v. 34:
Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anoint Solomon king. The
information concerning the K'03 Nathan is, on the contrary, extremely
important for our understanding of the nature and the history of the
prophets.
LUTHER The Novella of'Judah and Tamar
103
David himself, but as punishment for the sin of the parents he

just lets the child become sick and die. It is indicative of the
author's penchant for psychological observations that the
courtiers are amazed that David should have mourned during
the child's sickness and taken food after its death. Then we
have a quick conclusion: the birth of Solomon.
The novella of David and Bathsheba belongs to the number
of Old Testament passages whose interpretation is particularly difficult. David is depicted initially as a despot who permits himself the grossest acts of interference in the family life
of his subjects, and who is not too particular about removing
people who might be dangerous to him. That is in the way of
despots and thus is hardly able to incriminate David in a personal way. He is also immediately able to find a servant to
carry out the assassination order. What distinguishes David
from the other despots lies in 11.6-13 and 12. If. He does not kill
Uriah in order to win Bathsheba but lets himself be pushed
into it by circumstances. Later he acknowledges his sin, humbles himself before Yahweh and accepts his verdict. His relationship to the prophet is quite different from that of later
kings. David's character was problematic to his contemporaries and to those who came after him: he was often purely a
despot, but had traits which totally contradicted the way of
despots. The author of our novella, too, asks himself the question: how is this dichotomy in David's character to be understood? His answer is: because David is a worshipper of Yahweh
he is no mere despot. Recognizing this, he writes the novella of
David and Bathsheba. The historical problem he traces back to
a purely human problem (conflict between passions and piety),
in order to be able to make use of it poetically, thereby showing
a high degree of poetic tact. His only reason for placing the
novella in the narrative of the Ammonite war is in order to
account for Uriah's absence and give reasons for his death.
For the rest, the connection is quite careless, so that the conclusion of the war narrative is merely tagged on behind. This
goes to prove that his concerns do not lie with the historical.
104
Consequently, neither should the novella be used to gain historical information.1

The genesis of the novella is only to be understood in the
context of the whole intellectual life of the period. The development of the literature cannot make it understandable. It
could show us how technique perfects itself, how ever larger
narratives are composed, with more careful attention to
explanations, but it cannot show how the in principle quite
different novella emerges from the Narrative.
An example of how literature can stand still at the level of
Narrative is provided, it seems to me, by mediaeval Nordic literature. Indeed it is quite striking here that a novella has not
developed out of the fertile SigurdBrunhilde motif: it only
needed a psychological explanation of how it arises that Sigurd
forgets Brunhilde and marries another. The saga also poses
this question but does not answer it by offering psychological
reasons, explaining rather that a special potion makes Sigurd
forget Brunhilde. This piece of information is just born of
embarrassment. There is evidence here of a decline in the
capacity to create artistic shape, a decline which the singers
seek to hide by an increasingly arbitrary accumulation of
motifs. The same is basically true of the Icelandic sagas, even if
they distinguish themselves by realistic narrative and by
attempting to portray the characters and to derive their deeds
from their personality.
At this point I turn briefly to a novella which does not belong
to the David stories, namely the account of Sisera's murder by
Jael (Judg. 4.17-22), because comparison with the Song of
Deborah (5.24-27) makes clear a characteristic of the novella.
The author gives explanations for the events in the tradition,
and where he can offer no explanations for them he modifies
them. The tradition is of no use to him at points where he is
unable to comprehend it. The two questions he asks are: why?
and how? Why does the hunted Sisera go into Jael's tent?
Answer: because there was peace between Jabin and the house
1. I do not contest the notion that some actual occurrences have been
used by the author; indeed I would find it odd if that were not the case.
But I do think that even the shrewdest eyes will not be able to discern
them. A priori arguments can decide nothing here.
105
of Heber the Kenite (thus the poor nomad becomes a person of

political standing), because Jael gives him a friendly reception,
hides him in the tent and keeps watch for him. How was it
possible that Jael could kill Sisera? Answer: she waited until he
had fallen asleephow could a woman have killed him while
he was drinking?
The desire for explanations adversely affects the poetic here
since it is applied to a quite heterogeneous subject: the heroic
saga. An alternative poetic form whose prime concern is with
motives was therefore sought and thus the novella came into
being. It can only emerge in a period of flourishing intellectual
life, in a period when tradition is doubted and questions are
asked about reasons for things. The awakening notion of
causality and the emergence of the novella are themselves
causally related. The alteration of the Song of Deborah discussed above shows us that Israel then stood in an age of
rationalistic feeling, not the people as a whole, of course, but
only the most enlightened. They sought to explain on reasoned
grounds those things that excited their interest. Thus J
explains the genesis of humanity from one human couple, that
of the people of Israel from one family, thus balancing the two
traditions of the origins of the Israelites. He makes the Dip 'a
Aramaeans in order to be able to make Babylonia the primaeval homeland. Just as J derives the nation and the whole of
humankind from individual human beings, so the historical
narratives make everything that has happened dependent on
the thoughts, decisions and moods of individuals. National
history becomes a history of leaders, and historical research is
primarily concerned with biographical detail. The psychological interest is connected with this. Whenever the narrator has
found a psychological motive for a decision of his hero, he feels
he has vindicated him historically. The wars and revolts occur
as a result of the passions of the kings or ringleaders. The passions are unjust since they are unreasonable. As always, here
again moral conclusions are drawn immediately from the
basic theoretical perspective. The narratives take particular
106
delight in reporting the cleverness of just judges,1 and justice

becomes a principal demand of the prophets. Seldom is justice
to be found in humans, but Yahweh is always just. He restores
the world order that has been destroyed through human passions, by punishing the guilty. And those who recognize and
acknowledge the rule of Yahweh (David; in J, Jacob) are
exemplary despite their human weakness.
It is a highly significant phenomenon that the emergence in
Israel of rationalistic notions did not bring about an epoch of
rationalism. Rationalism in its origins springs from an intensification and spiritualization of religious life; in its later development, however, it becomes emancipated from religion and
thus among the Greeks and in the eighteenth century it
brought about a dampening of religious fervour. In Israel, by
contrast, the tense political situation stifled the rationalistic
current but not before it had exerted a lasting influence on the
nation's religion. It helped overcome the mythic elements of
the religion and furthered monotheism (Yahweh's will rules
the world) and the bond between religion and morality, while
at the same time the struggle with the different cults lent
religious ardour to the adherents of the Yahweh religion.
These men who feel the essence of the new age within them
see everything through new eyes. They seek to bring everything humanly closer to themselves and therefore reject the
hero song because it does the opposite, artificially lifting people
into a higher sphere. The time when the poet sings for the
nobility is past. Rather he is attracted by everything that
comes from the people. This gives them an opportunity to gain
an eye for the poetic in everyday life. Estranged from the
upper social circles, they subject them to a criticism which
often manifests itself in quiet irony and is so much the more
delightful in that its voice is heard only through the narrated
facts.
b. The conclusion of the development is formed by those narratives in which the novella is employed in the service of his1. E.g. 1 Kgs 3.16f., Solomon's judgment; 2 Sam. 14, the wise woman
of Tekoa before David; also Nathan's parable in 2 Sam. 12 was certainly a self-contained narrative originally.
107
toriography. The narrators have mastered the novellistic

technique and endeavour to compose the material, as far as it
permits of this, as a novella. These narratives are: (1) 2 Sam.
2.8-3.1, 6-39 (David and Abner); (2) 2 Sam. 13-19 (Absalom).
(1) 2 Sam. 2.8-3.1, 6-39.l Abner makes Ishbosheth king in
Mahanaim. In the battle at Gibeon the Judaeans defeat the
Israelites. In the fighting Abner kills Joab's brother Asahel.
Later a dispute arises between Ishbosheth and Abner, which
causes the latter to join forces with David. He comes to Hebron
and concludes a treaty with David, and then starts back to win
over the Israelites to David's side. Joab, who was not present in
Hebron, then has him recalled, and kills him in revenge for
the death of his brother. David maintains his innocence in the
murder, performs the lament for Abner, curses Joab and his
family but does nothing against him since, as he says, the sons
of Zeruiah are too strong for him by dint of their violence.
I call this narrative novellistic because the revenge motif
holds the individual parts together. I do think, however, that
this motif is only a superficial addition to the original narrative. Probably there existed a narrative which did not have
Asahel's death at the hand of Abner (perhaps 2.18-23). In
these verses Joab is only one of the three sons of Zeruiah but in
w. 13, 16f. he is commander of David's army. Despite his
words in v. 22 Abner afterwards no longer thinks about
revenge. Joab gives the king political reasons only (3.24, 25) for
considering the negotiations with Abner to be wrong. Revenge
is only mentioned at all in 3.27 and 30. 3.30 is an acknowledged gloss on other grounds also, and the brief words in v. 27
vnK ^KntDi? D~Q in such a detailed narrative give the impression
that they did not originally belong. If we remove the death of
Asahel we are left with a 'detailed narrative' which regards
the relationship with the house of Saul in the same way as the
narratives discussed above. Here David is equally as innocent
of the death of Abner as he is there of the death of the Saulides.
The guilt is entirely Joab's, who murders in a belligerent mood
in order to fend off imaginary dangers and to eliminate a rival.
All these narratives will probably have belonged together, for
1. On 3.2-5 see p. 93. 2.10a, 11 are interpolated, as also are w. 14-16.
108
our narrative demands a sequel which reports about Ishbosheth; and this is what the report concerning Ishbosheth's death
does (4.1-12), which follows directly on to ch. 3.1
Joab's revenge can hardly be historical. The author has used
for his purpose a tradition which recounts a bloody deed in the
nnsn np*?n (field of knives?) near Gibeon (2.16), which was
associated here already with the war between David and the
Saulides (cf. 2 Sam. 21). It reappears in three variations:
2 Sam. 2.14-16 (12 Benjaminites and 12 Judaeans engage
each other in mock fights, but kill one another); in our passage;
and 20.8-13 (Joab kills Amasa). The similarity with this
variation is especially clear in that all the warriors stand still
at the place where the murdered person lies, in 2.23b as in
20.12, even though this statement contributes nothing at all to
the narrative.
We cannot credit the author of the novellistic narrative of
David and Abner with great skill. He is content to juxtapose
the various motifs without balancing them out. But at least
this procedure proves to us how great was the dominance of
the novella at that time.
(2) 2 Samuel 13-19. In the Absalom narrative (2 Sam. 1319), the greatest narrative composition among extant preexilic literature, novellistic historiography has created a masterpiece. The main section is Absalom's revolt (chs. 1519).
This historical event is preceded by a tone-setting preamble in
chs. 13 and 14, the narrative of Absalom's murder of his
brother Amnon. It is characteristic of the psychological inclination of the author that in ch. 13 he makes a mental abnormality an important component of the action: in 13.15,
Amnon's love for Tamar gives way to a deep aversion after he
1. It is striking that in 3.14, 15 David calls on Ishbosheth to give up
Michal to him, while in v. 13 he requires the same thing of Abner.
Perhaps we have in 3.14, 15 a fragment of an older report3.12-16
seems to me not to belong in the original context, as v. 17 follows on
well from v. 11 and the handing over of Michal to David is not related.
The insertion may be due to the same person who turned the narrative
into a novella. He added as much personal detail as possible without
bothering too much about precise explanations or balancing the various sources he had used.
109
has dishonoured her. The narrative has the purpose of gaining

sympathy for Absalom and painting his character. He locks up
his resolves inside himself and carries them around with him
for a long time, until all at once at a suitable moment he suddenly breaks loose. He shows this character again during the
preparations for the revolt. He beguiles the Israelites by acting
towards them in a quite unprincely way, and offering them
enticing prospects. But he does this so secretly and so cleverly
(he acts differently towards the Judaeans) that the king
unsuspectingly lets him come to Hebron, where he gives the
signal for rebellion. Ishbosheth and Abner lay buried here, and
he may have won over the Calebites who lived there by having
himself made king in the sanctity of their city. Doubtless there
was discontent in the old residence of Hebron because David
had made Jerusalem the capital. Our author does not, however, tell of this opposition, nor indeed of another much more
important antagonism, that between Israel and Judah. The
revolt is one of Israel's attempts to free itself from the rule of
David. Absalom is used by the Israelites as a welcome ally and
a suitable tool. In the narrative, however, Absalom's ambition
is the only motive of the revolt. Thus, like here, in the course of
the whole narrative all the historical events are traced back to
personal motivesin genuinely novellistic fashion. The
Shimei episode is particularly instructive in this. David is
fleeing from Absalom, accompanied by his court and his warriors. Along comes Shimei, who belongs to Saul's family line,
pelts David and his entourage with stones, and curses him for
snatching the kingdom from the house of Saul, which kingdom Yahweh is now giving over to his son Absalom. Abishai
wants to kill him, but David prevents him, and Shimei continues with his action.
In the way in which it is told us, the event cannot possibly be
historical. Stade therefore assumes that Shimei was accompanied by his clan. But it is incomprehensible why this should
not then have been mentioned.
The opposition of Israel to the kingdom of David is evident
here only. According to 19.17, Shimei played an important
part in the war. He was the organizer of the revoltor at least
that is what popular opinion considered him to be; for all eyes
were on him as a relative of Saul. For this reason novellistic
110
historiography also brings him to the fore; for it derives events

not from the pressure of circumstances but from the decisions
of the characters alone, who emerge as leaders, or from whom
particular decisions are expected and who thus have typical
significance. It does not seek the reason for his participation in
Absalom's conspiracy in the conflict between Israel and Judah
but in the enmity of the family of Saul towards the usurper
David; Shimei is confronted with David in just the same way
that the old sagas describe single combat. We have to forget
completely that David is in the company of many warriors.
Shimei, David, the sons of Zeruiahthese are the participants.
In a very effective way, in a dramatically heightened scene
the opposing parties confront one another. This kind of treatment offers the author another significant advantage. He
wants to express the Israelite assessment of David, which he
clearly largely shares, and uses Shimei to this end. This devastating criticism becomes all the more impressive in that David
puts up with it and thus tacitly acknowledges it. The author
puts his character completely in the background, and what is
narrated becomes so much the more impressive. A sentimental trait runs through the narrative. Feelings are ascribed to
David which an older study would certainly not have found in
him. We are reminded how Jacob is transformed from a
warrior into the cunning farmer, and then into the peaceable,
pious man of the Yahwist. The author's overall opinion of
David is not contained in the Shimei episode. We have to piece
together the picture of the king from many individual characterizations. He is considered from the most varied angles. His
behaviour against Shimei and Absalom and his piety prove
that though Shimei's judgment was not unjustified it was
imbued with a hatred that sees only evil. The misfortune is a
punishment sent from Yahweh. Just as in the Yahwistic history of the patriarchs, so Yahweh directs everything here too;
he is the Providence that stands behind the events. David
reminds us of Jacob in many ways. But he is more human and
more sinful than the ancestor. Yahweh uses even his mistakes
in order to educate him until he sees that all things come from
Yahweh's hand (2 Sam. 16.10-12; 1 Kgs 1.29; cf. Gen. 3.2, 11).
What of the historical judgment of the author? It should
certainly not be taken as read that he has no historical under-
111
standing even if he shows more interest in the personal and

the biographical. Let us consider the most important thing, the
participation of the Israelites in the revolt. As we noted above,
the author gives Absalom's ambition as his motive for the
revolt. This motive does not, however, exclude others. In 15.10
Absalom sends secret messages to all the tribes of Israel to
announce to them his intention to be made king. There is no
need for negotiations; the Israelites know how matters stand.
In Judah, on the other hand, nobody is thinking about rebellion; the 500 men whom Absalom takes with him from
Jerusalem know nothing (15.II).1 Absalom must therefore
earlier have negotiated with the Israelites; the negotiations
have flourished to the extent that the Israelites are just waiting for Absalom's signal to get started. At various other points
the significance of the Israelite part in the revolt emerges
clearly also (e.g. 16.15; 17.4,14, 15; 18.16,17; 19.9). The author
has every right to emphasize only this one motive in view of
his special concern for human factors. He presupposes knowledge of the war and has certainly also used a historical treatment of the war in which the events were reported in the
manner of the story of the Ammonite and Aramaean war; but
he only wants to present his view of the war and to pass
responsibility for it on to Absalom. Through chs. 13 and 14,
however, he also makes Absalom's decision comprehensible.
So the greater part of the narrative closes in the manner of a
novella,2 the conclusion re-echoing the notes that have been
sounded.
It seems to me that Joab's dark heroic figure further speaks
for historical understanding. Joab, who in the Bathsheba
novella unquestioningly makes himself a servant of David's
despotic moods, and who also puts up with quite a lot from
Absalom (14.29f.), is the one who kills Absalom against David's
express command and forces David to forget his mourning
and show himself to the people. Here he is the representative
1. See ZAW 21, pp. 25-29.
2. One may also speak of the dramatic, tragic character of the narrative. Indeed novella and drama are closely related. It very much
depends on external circumstances whether from similar intellectual
life drama or novella emerges. In Greece, for example, the Dionysus
cult was of fundamental significance for the emergence of drama.
112
of state interests in opposition to David and he serves these

interests without any personal consideration and without
mercy. One cannot help comparing him with Hagan in the
Nibelungenlied, who unnerves everyone but against whose
logic no one is able to find an objection.
As surely as historical judgment can be associated with
novellistic technique, the literary genre as such is, however,
not favourable to the development of historiography. The ability to see genuine historical events in a correct light (1 Sam.
8.11) is in decline; thus also the ability to recognize the political
causes and motives does not improve further. This is shown
very clearly in the prophetic historiography (in a large part of
the book of Kings) and in the historical construction of the
Deuteronomist.
The development just described on the basis of the David literature can be traced in the Yahwist's work as well.1 The
sagas of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are in general 'detailed
narratives'; here only the narrative2 of how in a foreign land
the patriarch passes off his wife as his sister, is a novella. This
narrative can therefore not be very old, at least not significantly older than the work of the Yahwist. J manifests novellistic technique in the way he connects these narratives. He
brings suspense into the Jacob story by highlighting the relationship with Esau, adding chs. 32 and 33 for this purpose. The
Joseph story created by him is a complete novella which grows
out of the basic motif that Israel favours the son of his old age
above his other sons.
Conclusion of the Analysis of the Tamar Narrative
The story of Judah and Tamar, Gen. 38.12b-30, was originally
a detailed narrative. We must ask ourselves whether this narrative once existed independently of its present context. There
is support for this in that Hirah here appears as Judah's messenger, while in v. 1 Judah joins up with him. If Tamar was
1. Discussed in E. Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme,
pp. 142ff.
2. Discussed in Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme,
pp. 122f.
113
originally Judah's bride, the narrative could not have stood in

its present context. On the other hand the fact that it connects
well with what precedes it and what follows it speaks against
the idea. If then the narrative of Judah and Tamar once had
an independent existence, it must have been altered when it
was placed in its present context.
In its present form the story of Tamar bears the stamp of the
novella. The basic motif is that Judah keeps his youngest son
Shelah from her (even though he thereby transgresses the law
of levirate marriage) (v. 11). In w. 6-10 Judah's extraordinary action is explained in brief strokes. Only at this point does
the narrative become detailed; the preceding part was just
introduction. With bold resolve Tamar cuts through the complex situation, but thereby she gets into a dangerous situation.
The conclusion must contain two solutions: (1) a solution to the
dangerous situationJudah admits that her action was justified; (2) a solution to the complex situationshe bears two
sons. The novella is constructed very artistically and must
therefore derive from a period when the novellistic technique
was already at its height.
The question whether the narrative is associated with any
particular purpose is especially difficult to answer in the case
of the novella. The author's intention could lie in three areas:
the nature of the qedeshah, levirate marriage, and tribal history. Tamar's being a qedeshah is most probably only a motif
of the narrative. The same will be true of levirate marriage
(Gunkel). The author had no interest in impressing on his
readers the duty of levirate marriage; there is nothing to indicate such an intention in the detailed narrative section. This
leaves us only with tribal history. At this point we must first
discuss the question: Is what is told of Judah to be interpreted
as tribal history? We are hardly likely to be given a really sure
answer and we must be content with possibilities. Apparently
the author wishes to show in novellistic fashion that the tribe
(or perhaps rather, the kingdom) of Judah was threatened
with downfall or some other catastrophe, which was avoided
114
without the help of Judah.1 That there is no concern for the

danger of too much mixing with the Canaanites is immediately plain in that nothing is said of the origins of Tamar and
of Hirah. The author's position with regard to Judah is
friendly. Judah has not acted rightly; but he is excused because
he found himself in a predicament. He acted wrongly out of
weakness and is thus at a disadvantage with respect to the
forceful Tamar. He is good-naturedly ridiculed for it: Tamar
knows how Judah will behave and bases her plan on this; he
gives the order for Tamar to be burned and has to retract it
straight away because he is doubly guilty himself, being
obliged to admit that Tamar has led him up the garden path.
He thus gets into a ridiculous situation (cf. v. 23, rob rrru )S).
But mixed in with the laughter of the spectator is the joy that
the catastrophe has been averted, and, in novellistic terms,
that he now has three sons again. Blessing has finally come to
him. So affection for Judah is linked with the laughter.
The novella of Judah and Tamar has been taken over by the
author of the whole of ch. 38 with the addition of w. 1-5. The
disharmony between w. 1-5 and the novella is very clear. In
v. 1 Judah enters the country as a single man and therefore
has to join company with a country-dweller (Hirah). Afterwards he is a distinguished person: he has his flocks of sheep, is
able with impunity to send Tamar back to her father's house
and uses Hirah as his messenger. The introduction of Hirah in
v. 1 is quite superfluous; it occurs only because Hirah appears
again later. His background is not related, because nothing
was said of it there either. In v. 2, however, the author is concerned with the nationality of Judah's father-in-law and wife,
while nothing more is reported of Tamar's background. Nor
does the mention in v. 5 of Shelah's being born in Chezib fit in
the novella.
One thing emerges clearly from these discrepancies: the
author wants to give tribal history and uses the novella to this
end. His intention is clear from w. 2-5. In order now to weld
w. 2-5 as tightly as possible to the novella, the author found it
1. At that time two women in Judah played an important role:
Athaliah and Jehosheba. Is there some link between this and the
Tamar novella?
115
necessary to mention Hirah of Adullam already in v. 1. He

takes no account of the fact the the relationship between
Judah and Hirah in v. 1 is precisely the other way round as
compared with that in the novella. He could also have introduced Hirah at his first appearance in v. 12 by adding just a
few words. Probably he shied away from such an alteration
(for reasons of metre?); our confidence in his having passed on
the novella intact is thereby strengthened. Not even in v. 1
does he say from which tribe Hirah comes, even though such
information is to be expected at this point. Adullam thus has no
significance for tribal history, unlike Chezib.
What is the significance of the five or three sons of Judah for
the tribal history? The general assumption is that the reference is to 'sub-tribes' (Unterstamme), 'clans' or 'Geschlechter'
(mispahot), into which Judah was split.1 That Er and Onan die
is explained by the fact that the parts of Judah that bear those
names have disappeared. There remain, then, Shelah, Perez
and Zerah. E. Meyer2 is of the opinion that even after the Exile
Judah was split into these three parts.
In Neh. 7.61 = Ezra 2.59, the sons of Delaiah, Tobiah and
Nekoda are not received as equal members into the community; for 'they could not prove their family (Dnorrra) and their
descent (Dinr), whether they belonged to Israel'. Now it does
not follow from these words that the genealogies that had to be
shown, according to this, were traced back to Shelah, Perez
and Zerah. It will have sufficed to prove one's membership in
one of the pre-exilic clans (Geschlechter). The clan names of
the list in Ezra 2 = Nehemiah 7 are pre-exilic3 and the manner in which they are given proves that they were known.
Families with the names Delaiah, Tobiah and Nekoda were
not found among them.
It is not to be doubted that the names Shelah, Perez and
Zerah designate parts of Judah, as the Priestly Code, independently of Genesis 38, indicates in Gen. 46.12 and Num. 26.20.
Zerah is the name of a miSpaha according to Josh. 7.1; nothing
1. Cf. ZAW 21, pp. 56f.

2. Meyer, Entstehung des Judentums, pp. 159f.
3. Meyer, Entstehung des Judentums, p. 158.
116
definite can be said about Shelah and Perez.1 As to Shelah, v. 5

gives the important information that he was born in Chezib.
This mention must have a very special purpose. If Chezib2 is
located in Kussabe, south east of Lachish, we may perhaps
assume that Shelah's home is mentioned here because it lay
outside the main complex of the tribe of Judah. I do not feel
that the death of Er and Onan should be interpreted in terms
of tribal history because Onan reappears in the Jerahmeelite
genealogy in 1 Chron. 2.26, 28.3 The borders between Judah
and Jerahmeel probably fluctuated so much that the same
clan is meant in both cases.
Genesis 38 then doubtless names parts of Judahbut are
these all the parts? We shall not be able to rely on the figures
since they come from the novella. The author of the novella
uses the motif of the twin birth. These twins become the
replacement for two deceased sons. Then along comes the one
son, whom Judah keeps from Tamar. Similarly, the motif that
the firstborn very nearly did not become the first-born is to be
seen in novellistic and not tribal history terms. This motif
serves to create a dramatic tension by means of which one of
the two is to be raised to particular prominence. The birth of
Tamar's sons recalls the birth of Esau and Jacob.
If Perez may be associated with Perez-uzzah and Baal Perazim, then those who belonged to the Perez part probably lived
very close to Jerusalem,4 perhaps actually in Jerusalem. Since
Perez-uzzah as well as Baal Perazim are derived from David,
I should like at least to offer for discussion the conjecture that
the king's household belongs to Perez, so that Perez is the
name of David's miSpahain 1 Sam. 20.6. We cannot say how
great the number of the mispahotof Judah was; the number
probably fluctuated.
We must now speak about the author. Neither the author of
the novella nor the author of the whole narrative can be J1. In
1. Perez is found in Judah with the place-names ma pa (2 Sam. 6.8),
abcdefghijk2 Sam. 5.20), D'X-ia "in (Isa. 28.21); Zerah is also the name of
an Edomite tribe in Gen. 36.15, 17.
2. 2'D. In 1 Chron 4.22, the men of K3D are sons of Shelah.
3. DJIK = pR. Onam further occurs in the Horite genealogy in Gen.
36.23. In all three cases the same miSpahd is apparently meant.
4. See p. 96 n. 1.
117
J1 Israel's sons are unmarried when they move to Egypt. A

comparison of Gen. 42.37 (E) with 43.9 and 44.32 (J) teaches
us this. In E, Reuben pledges that Benjamin will return to
Jacob; if he breaks his word, Jacob is to kill his sons. In J, Judah
makes the pledge, but only with himself. If I do not bring him
back to you and set him before you, then let me bear the blame
forever.' In addition to this, both the novella and the Genesis 38
narrative as a whole imagine that Judah and his sons never
leave the land; there is no room beside what is narrated for the
emigration to Egypt. What has been said thus far applies both
to the novella and to the entire narrative; the grounds multiply
when we compare both separately with J1. The novella relates
things (e.g. cult prostitution) whose mention is totally inconsistent with the style of J1. That the narrated material would not
fit into the context of J1 is, in the case of such an eminent
author, actually reason enough not to credit him with it. The
novella is probably associated with the Judah saga, which J1
will purposely have ignored. Because of the disharmonies
mentioned above the total narrative is not to be compared with
the homogeneous work of the Yahwist. Nonetheless, the
author of Genesis 38 will have stood under the influence of the
Yahwist. J1 relates the genesis of the nation up to the birth of
the eponyms of the individual tribes; he has no interest in
relating the origins of the subdivisions of the tribes.1 The
author of Genesis 38 now wants to relate, additionally, how the
parts of the tribes came into being and how the tribal fathers
settled in the land of Judah. In this respect Genesis 38 is a
parallel to the Yahwist's report of the conquest. However,
Judah is given here, as is Jacob in J, an absolutely peaceable
character when a novella, whose hero is Judah, is quite
artificially placed in a context which militates against its basic
premise; for in the novella Judah is the long-acknowledged
lord of the land. The author of the total narrative lacks the
distinctive ability of J1 to regard the narrated material discerningly and thereby to avoid such contradictions. The narrative is irreconcilable with the Yahwist account of Israel and
1. Actually we have no right to call the miSpahdt parts of tribes.
They are organisms which, to judge from the way they originated,
have nothing to do with one another.
118
his sons leaving the land once again and moving to Egypt.1 We
may not, however, declare it impossible that this is the point of
view of the author of Genesis 38. But he did not have the
Yahwist's sensitivity for what was reconcilable with his
account and what was not. The author of Genesis 38 is therefore probably dependent on J1. We may call him J2, but we
must not forget that by far the greater part of the narrative,
which differs in all respects from the manner of the Yahwist,
namely the novella of Judah and Tamar, has been taken over
by him from quite another source.
No firm judgment can be made as to the background of the
author of the total narrative, but probably he was a Judaean.
By contrast, the author of the novella seems not to have been a
Judaean. His attitude towards Judah is not that of a member
of the tribe but that of a non-Judaean who is well disposed
towards Judah but who also feels justified in giving him some
fatherly reproof. Whether he was thus an Israelite or maybe a
member of one of the tribes swallowed up by Judah cannot of
course be determined.
Judah's relationship to Hirah, Shua and Tamar has repeatedly been read genealogically. But such an understanding is
out of the question in respect of Hirah and Tamar, since they
belong to the novella, which has so little thought for genealogical purposes that it does not even mention the background of
either of them. There remains only the point that Judah marries the daughter of the Canaanite Shua, and this indeed is
meant genealogically. The Judaeans are the descendants of
Judah and his Canaanite wife.2 According to this, the author
knows of no conflict between Judah (and Israel) and the
Canaanites; perhaps he worked from the general premise
that all inhabitants of Judah were Judaeans and all inhabitants of Israel were Israelites.
1. If there was a Judah saga, like the Jacob saga it doubtless did not
have the forefather leave the land again once he had occupied it.
2. On the attempt to show the genealogical significance of Shua's
daughter and Tamar, see ZAW 21, pp. 56f. Genealogical narrative cannot do without personal features such as marriages; such features
should therefore not be translated into tribal history.
NARRATIVE ART IN THE BOOKS OF SAMUEL

Alfons Schulz
Hebrew poetry has been the subject of a great many investigations; the prose sections of the OT, however, are more
extensive than the poetic pieces, and yet little work has thus
far been done on the form of OT prose. Though this kind of
research might at first sight seem superfluous, it is likely to
prove rewarding. Such seems already to have been the view of
St Augustine. Matthias Meier has drawn my attention to a
passage in the Confessions (3.5):
For then it was quite different from what I now feel. When I
then turned toward the Scriptures, they appeared to me to be
quite unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully. For my
inflated pride was repelled by their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit penetrate their inner meaning.
Naturally, partial investigations of individual books must

first be made before general rules or laws can be established in
this field. Notable in this respect is the section 'Kunstform der
Sagen der Genesis' in Gunkel's Genesis (3rd edn [1910],
pp. xxviiiff.), where Gunkel has made skilful use of an essay
entitled 'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung' by the Danish
scholar Axel Olrik (in Zeitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und
deutsche Literatur 51 [1909], pp. 1-12).1
I touched only briefly on this point in my commentary on the
books of Samuel, which I contributed to theExegetisches
Handbuch zum Alien Testament2 for the master to whom the
1. In the Internationale Monatsschrift 14, pp. 73ff., 155ff., Gunkel
treats the passage 2 Kgs 6.24-20 under the heading 'Eine hebraische
Meistererzahlung'.
2. Vol. 8, Parts I and II (1919/20)referred to henceforward as
Schulz, I and II.
120
volume of Biblische Zeitfragen in which this article first

appeared is dedicated. May I now be permitted to place on
Johannes Nikel's gift table the late fruits I have gleaned.
I need hardly offer proof that in the books of Samuel we have
almost nothing but prose. E. Sievers, it is true, attempted to
demonstrate its poetic form (Metrische Studien. II Samuel
metrisch herausgegeben von E. S. I. Text [1907]). But his work
seems not to have been well received and he has not followed it
up with a Part II.
The poetic components must first be removed. These are of
course the songs in 1 Sam. 2.1-10; 18.6 (cf. 21.11; 29.5); 2 Sam.
1.19-27; 3.33f.; 20.1; 22; 23.1-7, which stand out clearly from
the surrounding text as distinct, poetic products. At times,
however, even in the middle of a prose narrative the language
reaches poetic heights (cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xxvii), such as
when Samuel pronounces his verdict, in God's name, on Saul
and Agag (1 Sam. 15.22f., 33). One might ask, just incidentally,
whether Shimei's curse does not also have poetic form (2 Sam.
16.7, 8). One could perhaps translate thus:
Out, out,
You man of blood,
You man of the devil!
Upon you Yahweh will bring
All the blood of the House of Saul,
In whose place you have become king.
And Yahweh will give your kingdom
Into the hand of Absalom, your son.
See, now you are ruined,
For a man of blood are you!
That elsewhere also there are echoes of poetic speech is not

to be wondered at, since the content frequently shows some
relation to the Epic. Thus Samuel's question in 1 Sam. 15.14
contains a parallelism. Occasionally metaphors and similes
occur. The narrator himself, however, makes little use of
them, such as when he employs the expression 'lamp of God'
for soul (1 Sam. 3.3), when he speaks of the 'opening of the ear*
for 'reveal' (1 Sam. 9.15), or when he says that the runner
Asahel is as fleet as a gazelle in the field (2 Sam. 2.18). The
term 'lions of God' for two Moabite warriors (2 Sam. 23.20)
SCHULZ Narrative Art in the Books of Samuel
121
will not have been his invention: the people may have given
them this name.
More often the author has the characters he presents use
similes. David compares himself, in relation to Saul, to a dead
dog, to a flea (1 Sam. 24.14), and to a partridge hunted in the
mountains (26.20). For the Philistine king Achish, David is
like an angel of God (29.9). For Mephibosheth also, David is
like an angel of God: 2 Sam. 19.28. Abner asks indignantly
whether he is a dog's head (2 Sam. 3.8). Abishai calls the
scoffer Shimei a dead dog (16.9). Hushai uses no fewer than
five similes in his high-flown speech to Absalom (17.8-13).
According to him, David and his men have the fury1 of a bear
in the wild which has been robbed of its young. He credits the
courageous warrior with the heart of a lion. Israel is as
numerous as the sand by the sea. He suggests coming upon
David 'as the dew falls upon the ground'. In a bold metaphor
he depicts the siege and capture of a city thus: it is as if ropes
will be laid around the city and it will be dragged into the
stream. The images are intentionally piled up here: the idea is
to influence the king's impressionable son.
Women, too, make use of imagery. Abigail wishes for David
that his soul may be bound up in the bundle of those who live
with Yahweh, whereas Yahweh should sling out the life of his
enemies as from the hollow of a sling (1 Sam. 25.29). The
woman of Tekoa calls the apparently intended killing of her
only son the quenching of the coal left to her (2 Sam. 14.7). She
compares human death with the spilling of water (v. 14).
Finally she, like Achish, calls David an angel of God (w. 17,
20).
We now turn to the book2 itself. A sure, self-contained plan
underlies it. This is all the more remarkable in that it is compiled from source documents. The author knew how to
arrange the individual narratives in accordance with one
unifying aspect. The intention is to describe the beginnings of
1. Translator's note: 'Mut' (courage) appears to be a misprint for
'Wut' (fury).
2. The two books originally formed a single work (cf. Schulz, II,
p. 312).
122
the monarchy in Israel up to David's last years. The action

revolves around the three men, Samuel, Saul and David. Now
one cannot, of course, divide the book up into three sharply
differentiated parts according to these main characters. The
three men are active not only one after the other but also
alongside one another. As a result they are drawn the more
clearly into the author's unifying scheme.
However evident the unity of the whole is, the book can be
divided up into smaller parts, all of which pursue a particular
purpose and strive towards a particular goal. 1 Sam. 1.14. la
describes Samuel's youth. The purpose of the story of the Ark
(4.1b7.1) is to show how the superiority of Yahweh is
revealed in his Ark. It has, however, nothing to do with the
Samuel story itself, within which it is set. Though we might be
able to do without it here, it does form the significant background story for 2 Samuel 6, where the further fates of the
Ark are related in the context of the story of David. The author
has thus inserted it for a purpose. In the following section,
which is externally connected to the story of the Ark by 7.2,
Samuel again is in the foreground. From this point on, two
sources clearly run in parallel, or rather in combination with
one another, which the author has artificially worked
together. In chs. 7-12, Saul's elevation to the kingship is narrated. The two sources adopt different attitudes to the monarchy. But the idea common to both is that Samuel helped Saul to
become king. The author alternately takes pieces from one
source or the other and links them together with occasional
remarks.1 The principal characters are Samuel and Saul.
Chapters 13-15 deal with King Saul's golden period and his
rejectionagain using the two sources. Since both of them
contain a story of rejection in Gilgal, the author places one of
them in an earlier position (13.7b-15a), in the middle of the
Philistine hostilities. This need not surprise us, since, as is well
known, many sections in the Gospels are not placed in
chronological order but are arranged according to aspects of
the contents. In chs. 16-31, again from the two sources, we
then learn of David's rise and Saul's fall, up to his death. (The
two reports are most artistically interwoven at the point
1. Cf. Schulz, I, pp. 174ff.
123
where David comes to Saul's court.) Here, then, Saul and

David are the principal characters.
The second book deals with David as king and thus pursues
a quite uniform aim. Here the two main sources of the first
book reappear, inasmuch as chs. 1-8 belongs to one of them
and 9-20 to the other.1 In the first part it is more David the
statesman that we encounter; in the second, David the man.
21.1-14 belongs to the beginning of the second part and has
been dislodged for some as yet unknown reason, and this is
followed by a number of later additions up to the end of ch. 24.
Nor does the series of postscripts that in course of time have
found their way in bear any relation to the tightness of the
original.
I should like to take a few smaller sections and use them to
show how a particular aim is pursued and the action is held
tightly together, and how everything revolves around the
principal characters. These sections will be ones that are not
joined together.
In 1 Samuel 1 the principal character is Hannah, around
whom the following revolve: her lovingly concerned husband
Elkanah, her satiated and spiteful rival Peninnah, the heavyhanded but kind-hearted priest Eli, and finally her son
Samuel, who from this point on is to be the principal character.
1 Samuel 25 describes how David gains a rich, clever and
beautiful wife. Abigail is then principal character along with
David. This is why she is also described with particular care.
2 Samuel 13-20 forms a longer, continuous narrative chain
where one thing always results from the previous thing.
Amnon dishonours his half-sister Tamar. In revenge,
Tamar's full brother Absalom murders him. According to the
law of blood revenge Absalom must die. David should have
seen to this. In weakness he spares him, and so the wrongly
handled son prepares the revolt. What David has neglected to
do, Joab performs: he kills the traitor. The appendix concerning Sheba's revolt (ch. 20) corresponds with the law of conclusion (cf. below): the section closes with a revolt of lesser significance.
1. Cf. Schulz, II, pp. 330f.
124
The following are among the sub-sections in this section.

13.1-22: the violation of Tamar by Amnon; secondary characters are Jonadab, David and the servant. Absalom does not
appear until the end. But since he is the main character in the
larger section, he is named at the head of the passage in v. 1.
13.23-39: how Absalom plots and executes revenge against
Amnon.
The following section, ch. 14, seems to me to be constructed
with particular artistry. The climax is David's reconciliation
with Absalom, described quite briefly in v. 33. The background
to the reconciliation is prepared in two acts. In each of these
there are always three characters figuring prominently: in
the first, Joab, the woman of Tekoa and David; in the second,
Joab, Absalom and David. The woman appears only in the first,
Absalom only in the second. Each act is split into three scenes,
in each of which two characters appear:
1. Joab summons the woman.
2. The woman goes to David.
3. David summons Joab.
4. Joab goes to Absalom.
5. Absalom summons Joab.
6. Joab goes to David.
The second character in each of the six scenes becomes the
first in the following one. The seventh (final) scene also follows
the rule: David summons Absalom. Thus the two characters
are at last united, having avoided each other up to this point.
The regular construction of the narrative is also evident in the
fact that in the odd scenes the more highly placed character
sends for the lesser, while in the even ones the lesser character
visits the higher. If we arrange the four characters according
to their rank, we have the order: a. David, b. Absalom, c. Joab,
d. the woman. They appear as follows in the seven scenes: 1.
cd, 2. da, 3. ac, 4. cb, 5. be, 6. ca, 7. ab. The framework is dominated by the numbers 2, 3 and 7. There is no regularity in the
number of times the characters appear. The woman appears
twice, Absalom three times, David four times, Joab five times.
125
In the passages we have discussed one can find what Olrik

calls 'one-strandedness'.1 It might appear that 1 Sam. 14.3235 runs counter to this, with its detailed description of the
ritual slaughter in a section in which Jonathan is at the fore.
But perhaps the author wants to use this to mark Saul's religious conscientiousness, which later announces itself in his
conduct towards Jonathan. The concern of 2 Samuel 20 is the
suppression of Sheba's revolt by Joab. The murder of Amasa by
Joab might be thought out of place here. But this information
is necessary. For if Amasa, the new commander-in-chief
appointed by David, had survived, Joab would not have been
able to take over the high command, and Amasa would hardly
have mastered the revolt.
Can we still speak of 'one-strandedness' when the action
takes place in different locations? It is certainly there whenever the same character appears consecutively in different
places. In 1 Samuel 9, Saul and his servant travel along crisscrossing paths before they reach Ramah. The plot consists of a
single thread.
But the situation is different when various characters
appear on several stages. Let us take as an example the
Bathsheba-Uriah story (2 Sam. 11, 12) and Absalom's revolt
(chs. 15-19). The first story indicates right at the beginning
that it will be set in two locations. In 11.1 we are told that David
sends Joab out to lay siege to Kabbah while he himself remains
in Jerusalem. The notice that David sends Joab out indicates
that David is really the principal character in both places, and
indeed at the end he goes to Kabbah himself in order to take
the stronghold. Up to this point the action takes place on two
stages. It diverges, in two strands. The connection between the
two is established first by Uriah, who spends time both in Kabbah and in Jerusalem, and then by the messenger whom Joab
sends to David. But it should be noted that never are events
related that have occurred on both stages at the same time.
When David is negotiating with Uriah in Jerusalem we learn
not a word of what Joab is doing in Kabbah, and conversely we
1. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8: 'Modern poetry loves to interweave
the various threads of the plot. Popular poetry holds tightly to a single
strand, it is always one-stranded.'
126
hear nothing of Jerusalem when it is related that in Kabbah

Uriah is sent to storm the stronghold. Narrating simultaneous
events, or even catching up on them later, is strictly avoided.
As for the revolt of Absalom, I now translate 2 Sam. 16.14, 15
differently than in my commentary: 'And the king and all the
people arrived, weary, and he rested there. And Absalom and
all the Israelites came to Jerusalem.'1 The author wants to
narrate after this what happened in Jerusalem afterDavid's
arrival in Bahurim. Likewise, I translate 17.24 differently
than before: 'And David came to Mahanaim and Absalom
crossed over the Jordan'. In other words, there is no catchingup on events; rather, what transpired in the other place after
David's arrival in Mahanaim is related. Thereby the chronological sequence is maintained in the whole piece on Absalom's
insurrection. True, we have two strands, two plots, being
played out in different locations: David's flight and Absalom's
pursuit. The author repeatedly jumps from one location to the
other. But when he occupies us with one of them, we never
learn what is happening at the same time in the other. The
connection is established by the people who are in David's
1. In the commentary I translated v. 15: 'Meanwhile Absalom had
arrived in Jerusalem with all the Israelites'. I had presupposed that
at the time of the events described in the previous verses Absalom had
already entered Jerusalem. I was led to do this by Lucian's version of
v. 14: 'And the king and all the people that were with him came to the
Jordan'. The geographical detail 'to the Jordan' is missing in the
Hebrew and in all the witnesses other than Lucian. It is generally held
that a place name has dropped out. I no longer believe that Lucian is
right. For at the end of v. 14 it says 'he rested there' (actually, 'he got
his breath back'). This can only mean a temporary, shorter stay, while
David in fact intended to make a longer stay at the Jordan (17.16). If
v. 14a were speaking of the arrival at the Jordan, 14b would use
another expression, such as 'he camped there'. And I no longer
believe that anything at all has dropped out. I take bo' in the sense of
'arrive' (cf. Gen. 15.12, 17; 2 Sam. 2.24) and link the expression with
v. 5, where it said that David had come as far as the region of
Bahurim. I say 'as far as the region'; for Shimei comes out of the city
to meet him, and the whole event of w. 5b-13 takes place outside the
city. Thus v. 15 should not be taken as a pluperfect: Absalom was not
in Jerusalem as early as this. 2 Sam. 15.37b is to be translated as follows: 'and Absalom was about to enter Jerusalem' (note the imperfect
tense).
127
secret service. Finally the two series of narratives come

together in the battle in the forest of Ephraim.
Our author is obviously not yet capable of presenting events
that happen simultaneously in different places. At best, he
shows how two strands come together; cf. 1 Sam. 9.14; 25.20.
We have a kind of counterpart to this in the oldest forms of
painting, where objects are not represented behind one
another ('in perspective'), but next to one another.1
In connection with this we shall discuss a few further cases,
which could be instances of resumption ('catching-up on
events', German Nachholung). Unlike Gressmann,2 I see
'resumption' as a fault rather than a skill, except when one of
the characters appearing relates the earlier event (resumption 'in conversation').3 Again I must now alter the translation
I gave for 1 Sam. 1.22, 23. There I had presupposed the pluperfect tense and rendered: 'Hannah however had not gone
up; rather she had said to her husband... Elkanah her husband had answered her.' We would then have a true case of
'catching up' on the part of the writer. But the question is
whether it is likely that three consecutive verbs are being used
in this sense. Rather, what is related in w. 21 and 22f. can be
seen as simultaneous, and we can translate unforcedly: 'When
Elkanah...went up...then Hannah did not go up, rather she
said...But her husband answered her.'
In 1 Sam. 9.12 we learn what Samuel has done previously,
but we learn it from the lips of the maidens who tell Saul about
1. 'In its one-strandedness, popular poetry has no knowledge at all
of the perspective of painting; it knows only the progressive sequence of
bas-relief (Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8). According to E. Drerup (Das
Homerproblem in der Gegenwart [Wiirzburg, 1921], p. 465), Homer
also shows 'on the whole no knowledge of the stylistic means of
expressing the simultaneity of two events. In place of an overall picture in perspective we thus find in Homer a thread-like, "onestranded" presentation, in which the individual events are arranged
one after another without any special labels, and in particular without
any temporal particles, even when in reality they run directly alongside one another.' Drerup admittedly sees this only as 'a fault in the
Homeric style, notas has been maintainedin the Homeric outlook'.
2. H. Gressmann and A. Ungnad, Das Gilgamesch-Epos (Gb'ttingen,1911),pp. 179, 203.
3. Cf. the beginning of Goethe's Iphigenie.
128
it. In 9.15-17 the writer catches up on something that happened the day before, a revelation of Yahweh to Samuel. The
sentence sounds a little longwinded. Verse 17 states that
Samuel caught sight of Saul, and then v. 18 again that Saul
met Samuel. This seems a little excessive for the otherwise
brief narrator. Moreover, v. 18a is actually the same as v. 14b.
Might not w. 15-18a be an addition, then? Verse 18b would
follow on quite smoothly from v. 14. But still, as in ch. 16, it was
probably necessary to mention a divine commission to Samuel
to anoint Saul. We shall thus hardly be able to do without this
case of resumption. In 17.34ff. David tells of his earlier heroic
deeds against lions and bears: resumption in conversation. 28.3
catches up on two earlier events in order to explain what follows: (a) the death of Samuel, (b) the removal of the mediums
by Saul. The first is to serve to reinforce the statement made
later that Samuel's spirit has appeared. The second is to characterize Saul: this same Saul now visits a medium! And yet this
is not really a case of catching up on events; for the two sentences stand at the head of the narrative, and the narrator
does not deviate from the chronological sequence in it.
2 Sam. 1.13-16 would be a case of resumption with respect to
v. 12. However, w. 13-16 are a later addition. In 3.7 we learn
from Ishbosheth's question that Abner has gone to Rizpah;
this, then, is resumption in conversation. 17.14b is chronologically earlier than v. 14a: a true case of resumption. 18.18
catches up, after Absalom's death, on something from his life.
It is an aside which contributes nothing to the explanation of
the section. It is possibly a postscript. 19.26: Mephibosheth
recounts his fate to the king: resumption in conversation.
19.31 catches up on the information that Barzillai has gone
with the king. 24.lib need not be taken as in the pluperfect
tense. It is possible that Yahweh's word to Gad was given after
David had got up. Matters are made that much easier if we
follow Kittel's suggestion to place v. Ha after v. 12.
Thus we are left with just three certain cases of resumption
proper. But such a small number of exceptions is scarcely
worth mentioning. Actually, we can speak of a law of presentation in chronological order.
129
Associated with the narrative's one-strandedness and tightness is the fact that the narrator does not give unnecessary
descriptions. More recent narrative art attaches importance
to the depiction of the background, often elaborating on circumstantial details which have little or no relation to the plot.1
Does this not distract our thoughts somewhat from the plot?
The ancient narrator has no need of such things.2 For him the
plot is the main thing.3 In the books of Samuel descriptions and
depictions are generally given only when they are intended to
explain something in the plot. Where descriptions bear no
relation to the plot, we may suspect that they have been added.
1 Sam. 1.3, 4: the description of the sacrificial meal in Shiloh
has the purpose of depicting Hannah's sorrow, who is grieved
not to be able to take part in it. 1.9: the remark that Eli sits on a
seat by the doorpost of the sanctuary would for a more recent
writer form part of the portrayal of the background. Here we
learn from it how it was that he was able to observe Hannah
praying. 1.13 describes the unusual way that Hannah prays:
this is to give Eli cause for a malicious remark. 4.12: the messenger comes with torn clothes and his head covered in dust:
this is to identify him as a bearer of ill tidings (cf. 2 Sam. 1.2;
15.32). In 4.13 Eli is again seated on his chair. It is related here
in order to be able to describe the manner of his death later
(v. 18). 6.13: when the Ark comes to Beth-shemesh, the
1. We need only observe, for instance, how a more recent poet deals
with a biblical subject. Borries Freiherr von Miinchhausen in his song
collection entitledJudatreats the murder of Amasa by Joab (2 Sam. 20)
as the main subject, while in the narrative it constitutes no more than
an incidental detail. In so doing he attaches importance to the description of nature. He has the pursuit run 'through fields red with poppies'. He plays with this idea through the whole poem. By this means a
background is created for the reader. He sees the red poppy fields constantly fluttering. According to S. Killermann (Die Blumen des Heiligen Landes, II [1915], p. 9), in Palestine there are extensive fields full
of purple poppies.
2. In Homer also, descriptions and depictions are not an end in
themselves. Of the three landscape descriptions in the Odyssey, 'that of
the Calypso island is intended to make clear Odysseus's longing for
his homeland, that of the Alkinoos garden the fairy-tale fertility of the
land, that of the island of goats the lack of culture of the Cyclops' (Fr.
Sturmer, Die Rhapsodien der Odyssee [1921], p. 598).
3. Cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xlv.
130
inhabitants are harvesting the wheat. This explains how it is

that they immediately see the Ark. 9.2: Saul's good looks serve
to draw attention to the future king. The observation in v. 2b
that he is a head taller than any of the people does not fit here.
For the time being, apart from him, mention is made only of
the servant. The observation derives from 10.23, which is
where it belongs. Saul really does tower over all the people. He
is supposed to stand out. 16.7: there is a purpose to the emphasis on Eliab's physical height. One should not look on the outward appearance but on the inner man. Saul, who failed in
spite of his height, is surely in mind here. Nevertheless, physical beauty can be linked with beauty of the soul, and so in the
description of David in v. 12 one can clearly observe the
enjoyment of the narrator. David too stands out by virtue of his
physical characteristics, and attention is drawn to them. Only
the point is not his physical height as in the case of Saul. The
same description in 17.42 is superfluous. It has come from our
passage and found its way in there. 17.1-3: the place where the
armies are drawn up is described because it is later to be the
location for the fight between David and Goliath. The fairly
detailed description of the Philistine (17.4-7) has the purpose
of presenting him as an extremely terrifying opponent.
David's deed is thereby magnified. The fact that Saul is repeatedly mentioned with a spear in his hand1 has led some to the
conclusion that the spear belongs to Saul as the javelin does to
Woden. But in 1 Sam. 18.10 the mention of the spear is necessary because this is what Saul throws at David (so also 19.9).
20.33 says only that he throws the spear. 22.6 is noteworthy.
Saul sits 'at Gibeah, under the tamarisk tree on the height,
with his spear in his hand, and all his servants were standing
about him'. Three things are emphasized. The servants are
mentioned because they are needed later. The tamarisk is
used as a way of indicating the well-known place of judgment:
Saul wants to hold a court session. But why the spear? It has
nothing to do with what follows. Could it be an addition taken
over from 19.9 (as the description of David in 17.42 is, from
16.12? Cf. also 24.16 with 26.17)? Perhaps for a later scribe the
1. 1 Sam. 13.22 tells us that only Saul and Jonathan had a sword and
a spearan indication of Israel's impotence.
131
spear belonged with David. In 26.7 the spear sticking in the

ground next to the sleeping Saul is mentioned, but only
because David later removes it. The statement in 2 Sam. 1.6
that Saul supports himself on the spear will belong to the
description of his helpless condition. Moreover, from the song
of lament for him and Jonathan (2 Sam. 1.19-27) it follows
that Saul could also be pictured without a spear. For there only
Saul's shield and sword are mentioned, but not his spear.
1 Sam. 21.9 describes exactly where Goliath's sword is kept.
The description is presumably for the benefit of David, who is
to look for it. In 24.3 a very human activity on the part of the
king is described: this is to explain why Saul1 went into the
cave alone. In 26.7 we have some extra detail, but with good
reason. The mention of the encampment is to show how
difficult David's enterprise is. The spear is mentioned for the
reasons given above. The sleep of Saul and his people is mentioned because according to v. 12 it is only by reason of this that
it is possible for David to get through, and because the sleepers
are to be woken up afterwards. In 25.3 Abigail's beauty is
pointed out: this explains the impression she makes on David.
From 26.11 we learn that not only was the spear beside the
sleeping Saul but also the water jug. The mention of this could
have the same purpose as the mention of the spear (cf. above).
But it is conceivable that the jug is the work of a copyist. It
seems to be 'tagged on' behind. The last words in v. 16 have
clearly been added. In v. 12, then, the jug will likewise be an
addition. A scribe wished to magnify the trick that David
played on Saul. In fact, in v. 22 David asks for the spear to be
fetched, not the jar.
Three times there is mention of fatal wounds in the belly.
Abner sticks the blunt end of the spear into Asahel's abdomen
(2 Sam. 2.23), Joab kills Abner by a blow to the abdomen (3.27)
and runs his hidden sword into Amasa's abdomen while kissing him (20.9, 10). In the first case it was probably necessary to
mention the abdomen. Abner wants to spare Asahel and thus
hits out at him with the blunt end of the spear. Had he caught
him in any other part of the anatomy he would only have
1. Translator's note: The German original reads 'David' at this
point.
132
knocked him over, putting him out of contention for a while.

In the event, the blow hits the abdomen and its effect is fatal.
The second time, there is an intended allusion to the law of
revenge: Abner receives his death-blow in the same place as he
dealt the one to Joab's brother. In the third passage, it is natural that the blow should be aimed there. Joab takes hold of
Amasa's beard with his right hand, carrying the hidden sword
in his left. To do the deed covertly, he can only run the sword
into the abdomen.
2 Sam. 2.18: that Asahel is fleet of foot explains his desire to
go on pursuing his opponent. 2.24: 'the sun had just gone
down'. This is not a description of nature; rather the purpose is
to indicate that the fighting has lasted so long. Verses 26ff. prepare for the final cessation of hostilities. 3.22: the mention of
the spoil, whose function, for a more recent writer, would add
vividness to the narrative, might seem surprising since it
bears no apparent relation to what follows. But perhaps it is a
means of describing Joab's powerful position and, at the same
time, of explaining why David could not properly stand up to
him (v. 39), or the reference is to Joab's indispensability. 4.6:
the female doorkeeper who falls asleep while cleaning wheat
is not meant as an 'impressionistic picture', but is intended to
characterize the insignificant 'king5, whose court consists of
one single woman whose duties include wheat-cleaning, and
to explain how it was that the murderers could get in unhindered. 9.3, 13: the double notice that Mephibosheth was lame
in both feet has the purpose of showing that he was not dangerous. 11.2: the mention of Bathsheba's beauty is not so much
to acquaint the reader with her as to explain why David has
his eye on her. Similarly, in 13.1, the beauty of Tamar, with
whom Amnon falls in love. 14.25ff. describes the beauty of
Absalom, without a discernible reason. But w. 25-28 are an
addition. In 19.24 Mephibosheth's unkempt appearance is
described: this is to show how he has lamented for the king.
The resolute singlemindedness just described, which avoids
everything that does not directly or indirectly belong to the
plot, can go so far as to omit some things that actually do
belong to the plot. Biblical instruction at the lower-school level
now is required to provide 'a narrative which, by means of
skilful and moderate embroidering, makes the biblical text
133
more vivid and more comprehensible'.1 This requirement presupposes that the biblical story has a form which is brief and
difficult for young children to understand. The author of the
books of Samuel certainly is at pains to include nothing that is
superfluous; indeed he often gives the reader the job of thinking things over, filling in at many points and reading between
the lines. A few examples may demonstrate this.
1 Sam. 1.17: from Eli's kindly words to Hannah the reader
has to conclude that Eli has withdrawn his accusation that she
is drunk. In 9.3 Kish gives Saul the task of taking the servant
and looking for the asses. In v. 4, without further clarification,
we find them on their journey. 11.1: from the offer of the men
of Jabesh we must conclude that they can no longer hold out.
14.6-10 contains two speeches to his armour-bearer. The first
is answered with an expression of readiness, while the second
is not; all the necessary information is contained in the first
answer. 14.43: when Jonathan is convinced he will have to die,
he does not speak a superfluous word. He first briefly relates
the fact that he has transgressed Saul's decree, not even hinting that he has done so unknowingly, and he does not presume
to point out the glorious consequences of his deed. Hereupon
(using precisely two words in the Hebrew!) he declares himself
prepared to go to his death. One can imagine what a more
recent writer would have made of this! Behind 16.18 we can
easily fill in Saul's consent to his servants' suggestion. (In 17.37
Saul's consent to David's plan is indeed recorded, but this is
explained by the fact that in v. 33 Saul has raised a serious
objection which David has first to refute, and by the fact that
David's plan is quite outrageous.) At 16.19 a more recent narrator would have told of Jesse's joy over the honour of the
royal commission. His consent, too, is taken for granted. Similarly, v. 22. At 18.19 a modern author would surely describe
David's military successes; our writer does not even mention
this fact, cloaking it in the sentence that the time has come for
him to be given Merab. 19.11: of Michal's speech to David, only
the final sentence is giventhat he should flee this very night;
the rest we already know. Not a word do we read of David's
1. K. Massierer, Methodik des katholischen Religionsunterrichts
(1913), p. 20.
134
being in agreement, no speaking ill of Saul, and no moving

words of farewell. The implied words of Michal are necessary,
however: we have to learn why it is that brave David was to
escape so ignominiously through the window. Verse 14 takes
for granted that the messengers have obediently returned and
reported to Saul. Verse 16 says nothing of how the messengers
behave when they discover the deception, of their return to
Saul and of what they tell him: readers can fill in the details for
themselves. 20.4: in Jonathan's answer we have to fill in such a
phrase as 1 am convinced'. Similarly, in v. 7 we have to imagine for ourselves Jonathan's acceptance that David is right.
According to E. Konig,1 in 21.4 'Ahimelech's answer is taken
for granted and passed over'. But here I think there is no
missing answer from the priest; he is satisfied by David's
(untrue) information and says nothing. In addition, David has
every reason to pass over this unpleasant matter quickly. He
therefore gives the priest no time to come back to it; rather, by
his request he directs the thoughts of the priest to something
else. 25.13: it is obvious to the reader that David is very upset by
the failure of his embassy. But we read nothing of this, only his
brief instruction to prepare for battle. Similarly, v. 17 says
nothing of Abigail's being taken aback by her servant's disclosure. Only what she does is related. The servants and the
readers know for whom the food is being packed. In v. 35
readers can fill in for themselves that David and Abigail turn
back. Verse 37: if Nabal said anything about his wife's revelations, what he said is passed over as being immaterial. 26.22
omits to say that a servant comes from the camp and collects
Saul's spear. 29.10 really lacks a declaration from David that
he is ready to set off. It is only from his actions (v. 11) that we
see what he has decided to do. 30.15 omits to mention that
David swears to the slave the oath demanded of him, and
31.1 Iff. omits to give a reason for the burial of the desecrated
bodies by the men of Jabesh, because the reader knows why
from ch. 11.
2 Sam. 2.16 does not elaborate on how the contest suddenly
turns deadly serious. In 3.7 the reader has to supply the
1. E. Konig, Stilistik, Rhetorik, Poetik in bezug auf die biblische Litteratur (Leipzig, 1900), p. 222.
135
information that Abner has gone to Rizpah, and in 10.3 that

Hanun gives credence to the insinuations of his advisers. 11.24: in the narration of David's intercourse with Bathsheba we
have no lustful detail, no ardent dialogue, such as would be
popular today, but only what is necessary to the understanding.1 13.22: the ill-treated Tamar leaves the stage. A more
recent author might have described how she plotted revenge
and incited Absalom to it. In 13.29 the murder of Amnon,
which is to have such grave consequences, is only alluded to.
14.30 does not say how Joab learns of the burning of his barley
field. The LXX, however, has an addition in the lamenting servants who bring him the news. This could have dropped out in
the Hebrew. But even without the notice we can find our way
into the surrounding circumstances. Before 15.3 we have to fill
in for ourselves that Absalom enquired what the claimant had
on his mind. What a delightful description such an author as
Peter Dorfler might have given of the man from the country
clumsily telling it all to the handsome prince! Not a word of
that here. In 15.34 David does not explicitly tell Hushai to spy
on Absalom; this follows from the task he gives him. In 16.19 a
more recent author would emphasize how Absalom allows
Hushai to pull the wool over his eyes and places his trust in
him; this is left to our imagination. 16.21 passes over Absalom's
acceptance of the counsel of Ahithophel, and 18.14 omits to say
that Joab and his company go to find Absalom hanging in the
oak tree. One has to read between the lines in 18.27 that Ahimaaz is coming closer and closer, until at last he stands before
David; and similarly, in 21.9, 10, that the Saulides are gradually starving and their corpses are not being buried.
What we have observed here as the product of the East, we
also find in the cold North, as in the Icelandic saga. 'Conciseness in style and composition is the hallmark of the saga.
1. On narratives of this kind in present-day Palestine, cf. H. Schmidt

and P. Kahle, Volkserzahlungen aus Palastina (Gottingen, 1918),
p. 42: 'Also contrary to our sensitivities is the blunt way in which sexual matters are spoken of. But it must be said that when listening to
the narratives, one practically never had an impression of lasciviousness, but rather one of naturalness and matter-of-factness in these
matters.'
136
Unimportant matters are never reported in detail and are

often barely alluded to.'1
The conciseness of the style means that much that is superfluous may be recognized as a postscript.
We have already referred to a few cases of this type. The following may also be mentioned. 1 Sam. 1.3b has nothing to do
with the section: it is an addition from 4.4. 1.24: 'when she had
weaned him' is superfluous, since it follows from v. 23. It is
omitted in the LXX and should be deleted. 9.27: 'he went on
ahead' is also omitted in the LXX and interrupts the context.
There are internal grounds for deleting it also, because the
reader will be aware of the fact anyway. On the addition
14.1b-5, cf. Schulz, I, pp. 195f. Similarly, w. 29-31 are a
postscript. The original narrator has not let Jonathan respond
to the soldier's message (cf. Schulz, I, p. 208). The sentimental
description of emotion in 20.40-42 does not accord with the
style of the initial writer. It is a postscript (Schulz, I, p. 317).
25.13: the note that David and his men gird on their swords
goes without saying. It is missing in B and does not fit the context and should therefore be deleted. (On the other hand
behind 28.11 something necessary to the understanding has
dropped out, namely the calling up of Samuel. This could not
be omitted on the ground that it was self-evident. We can,
however, think of a reason why a later scribe should have
omitted it; cf. Schulz, I, p. 388.) 2 Sam. 12.6 is an addition,
which has only an attenuating effect. 13.34bff. is a later elaboration which is not kept in the style of the initial writer. Further elaborations are found in the LXX. 15.15: the servants'
consent might appear superfluous in view of what is said. But
probably the reader is supposed to learn from this that there
are still people who are loyal to David. 21.7: the stilted means of
expression gives this addition away.
It may be connected with the conciseness in the presentation
and the effort to include nothing superfluous, that the names
of subordinate characters are not given, and women's names
are not given even when they radically influence the plot
1. A. Bugge, in Zeitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 51 (1909), p. 23.
137
(2 Sam. 14.2; 20.16); this is quite unlike the works of Homer, in

which even the humblest incidental character is named.1
The general brevity of the speeches is also in accord with the
practice of saying nothing superfluous. Thus Michal puts a
very short speech in the mouth of David (1 Sam. 19.17), consisting of only three words in the Hebrew. This limitation in
reported speeches is intentional, for longer speeches are
recorded here and there too, but we can also find a reason for
such cases.
Thus Elkanah is already somewhat verbose towards Hannah (1 Sam. 1.8). He addresses no fewer than four questions to
her, of which probably none is answered. His concern is to
speak comfort to his unhappy, deeply hurt wife.
In 1 Samuel 12 we have a long discourse by the ageing
Samuel who is about to give up his position and wants to tell
the people once more everything that is on his mind. It is
understandable that such a speech has to be wordy.
16.15f.: the speech of the servants to Saul is rather long, but it
is addressed to a sick man, whom they want to induce to do
something. Longer still is the young David's speech to Saul in
17.34-37. Here it is a matter of begging his permission to fight
against the giant. It is not surprising that words flow fast and
furiously from the lips of the courageous youth; this is what
the narrator wishes to record. And David's lengthy address to
the Philistines before the duel in w. 45-47 is to characterize
David's piety; it sounds like a confession of faith.
David's longer speech in 24.9-15 and 26.17-24 is designed to
impress Saul.
25.6-8: the speech which David's servant is to make in his
name to Nabal is perhaps somewhat verbose. But it is intended
for a stupid person who has to be told something clearly or he
will not understand it! In the servant's longer speech to his
mistress in vv. 14-17 we see his anxious bustling, perhaps
some gossipping, too. Abigail's awfully long chatter (w. 24-31)
is supposed to be genuine female calculating. What she says is
thoroughly disordered, unlogical, sheer flattery. But she
intentionally overwhelms David with her gushing torrent of
words, leaving him no time to consider. It is not so much the
1. Drerup, Das Homer-problem, p. 310.
138
content that is supposed to have an effect as the whole performance. More recent writers would not have missed the opportunity to note her beseeching, upcast eyes. And the speech
works, despite its empty content! This is shown by the enthusiastic-sounding answer that David gives (vv. 32-34). The
author is a master craftsman in this.
We have a similar case in 2 Samuel 14. The woman of
Tekoa is clever, but garrulous. Not everything she says is logical, but she makes straight for her goal. Now and then David
is able to get a word in, a brief remark or questionthen the
torrent of words immediately floods over him again. In its own
way this is a masterpiece too.
17.5-13: Hushai presents his battle plan to Absalom in a long,
florid speech with exuberant imagery. It sounds quite different
from the experienced Ahithopel's sober speech (w. 1-3).
Hushai, however, wants to make an impression on the fanciful young man. And his assessment of him is correct: Absalom
accepts his foolish advice.
In 19.34-37 we have the words of a garrulous old man.
Later additions contain longer speeches. For example, in
1 Sam. 20.12-17 a scribe has Jonathan make an extremely
long-winded, fulsome speech to David. We have a particularly
instructive case of later loquacity in 2 Samuel 11. After Uriah
has fallen, the original, quite brief statement in v. 18 is: 'Then
Joab sent and told David all the news about the fighting5. This
is perfectly adequate. But it is not enough for the scribe, who in
w. 19-21 has Joab give this further instruction to the messenger:
When you have finished telling all the news about the fighting to
the king, then if the king's anger rises, and if he says to you,
'Why did you go so near the city to fight? Did you not know that
they would shoot from the wall? Who killed Ahimelech, the son
of Jerubbaal? Did not a woman cast an upper millstone upon
him from the wall, so that he died at Thebez? Why did you go so
near the wall?', then you shall say, 'Your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also'.
The scribe not only has Joab make a speech here, but in this
speech Joab has the angry David ask no fewer than six questions of the messenger. Such affectedness is alien to the original narrator: he loves short speeches.
139
We may also observe a limitation in the number of characters

appearing, especially those that speak. Perhaps one has to
assume a certain incapacity here, which has erected a barrier,
made a law.1 In the book a large number of characters pass
before our eyes, but only a few appear at any one time. The
conversations are almost exclusively dialogues, whereby a
group of persons (e.g. 'people' or 'servants') can be treated as a
single person.2 Similarly, two characters appearing in accordance with the 'law of twins' may count as one. The conversation normally consists of a speech and a reply, though the
reply may be absent on occasion. If a third person is present, he
or she remains silent. We may now consider some cases
where the author appears to limit himself to two characters.
In 1 Sam. l.lfF. four characters appear, Elkanah, Hannah,
Peninnah and Eli. But at no point are more than two engaged
in conversation: (a) Peninnah to Hannah, (b) Elkanah to
Hannah, (c) Eli and Hannah. The main character, Hannah, is
represented every time. In w. 19ff. three characters are
named: Eli, Hannah, Samuel. But only Hannah and Eli speak,
Samuel is silent. Chapter 8 contains five conversations, alternately between Samuel and the people and Samuel and Yahweh. In 9.3 Kish speaks to Saul, and in w. 4-10 Saul speaks to
the servant. In w. 11-13 the maidens appear as a collective
person, whose counterpart consists in the two strangers, who
constitute a single person. The question addressed to the maidens is not asked by Saul, nor yet by the servant, but by 'them'
(v. 11). Any three-way conversation, such as one between the
maidens, Saul and the servant, seems to be excluded. Then the
girls disappear, and Samuel appears. From this point on, the
servant is the silent character. Samuel converses only with
Saul.
14.1-14 has three characters: Jonathan, the armour-bearer
and the Philistine (collective person). First Jonathan speaks to
the armour-bearer, then the Philistines to both of them
(twins!), finally Jonathan again to the armour-bearer. Here
1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 5: 'The simultaneous interaction
of three or more characters, which our own drama loves, is not permitted in popular poetry'.
2. Cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xxxv.
140
again no three-way conversation occurs. 17.28f.: Only David's

oldest brother Eliab converses with him. Neither the other two
brothers who have gone to the front, nor the other soldiers
whom David questioned earlier, join in the conversation.
In 17.5518.4 we have a succession of four short scenes, in
which there are always only two characters in conversation:
(a) Saul and Abner, (b) Abner and David, (c) Saul and David,
(d) Jonathan and David. A more recent writer would quite
probably have had the four characters, who, after all, appear
at the same point, joining in conversation. This is clearly too
difficult for our author.
In 20.24ff. there are three people at the king's table: Saul,
Jonathan and Abner. Only Saul and Jonathan engage in conversation. 20.35-38: the two people speaking to one another
are Jonathan and the lad. David is a silent witness. Conversely,
in the addition, w. 40-42, it is David and Jonathan who speak,
while the lad is sent away. 24.7ff.: first David speaks with his
companions, then with Saul. 26.6f.: David calls on Ahimelech
and Abishai ('twins') to go with him, but only takes the second.
After he has spoken with him, he begins a conversation with
Abner, from which Abishai withdraws. And when, in v. 17,
Saul intervenes, Abner also falls silent. 28.15ff.: at the moment
when Saul speaks with the spirit, the woman, with whom he
has been speaking up to this point, withdraws.
2 Samuel 9 falls into three short sections, in which the following appear: (a) David and Ziba, (b) David and Mephibosheth, (c) David and Ziba. The speakers in 13.1-24 are (a)
Amnon and Abinadab, (b) Amnon and David, (c) David and
Tamar, (d) Amnon and Tamar, (e) Amnon and the servant
(Tamar is silent), (f) Absalom and Tamar. On ch. 14, cf.
pp. 124f. In 16.5-12 it looks as if three characters are appearing together: David, Shimei and Abishai. But in fact only David
and Abishai converseShimei is not brought into the conversation, or rather no one gives him an answer. He curses for his
own benefit. His cursing forms the backdrop against which the
dialogue between David and Abishai develops. True, Shimei is
not a silent character, but a speaking one who is given no
answer. In the counterpart to this in 19.17-24 the same three
characters are represented, apparently speaking alternately.
Shimei addresses David. Abishai intervenes. David first
141
answers Abishai and then Shimei. But might not w. 22f. be

modelled on the above scene? Verse 24 would follow on readily
from v. 21. We should then not have a single exception to the
rule we have observed. 18.19-21: of the three characters
appearing, Ahimaaz, Joab and the Cushite, the last mentioned
is the silent character; and it is this role that Ahimaaz plays in
v. 32 in relation to David and the Cushite.
We may therefore state that as a matter of principle the
author does not let more than two characters engage in spoken conversation. The one exception we have found can be of
little real consequence, especially as it may be a revision.
Now a word about the 'law of twins' mentioned above.1
Occasionally there appear two characters who are treated as
a unit; such are Elkanah's two wives (1 Sam. 1.2), Eli's two
sons (ch. 2), Samuel's two sons (8.2), Saul's two companions at
Endor (28.8), the murderous pair Rechab and Baanah (2 Sam.
4.2ff.), the two men accompanying the Ark (6.3), Zadok and
Abiathar the priests (15.24ff.; 17.15), Ahimaaz and Jonathan
the sons of the priests (15.27; 17.17). The law of twins can also
be waived from time to time, with one of the two characters
proceeding to act alone. Thus Hannah is soon acting for herself in 1 Samuel 1. In 2 Sam. 15.24ff., now both priests are
addressed, now one of them. In 18.19 Ahimaaz, too, acts on his
own. A special role is played by the 'sons of Zeruiah', Joab and
Abishai, who make a pair on the death of their brother Asahel
(2 Sam. 2.23). It is odd that sometimes the sons of Zeruiah are
spoken of or to, after only one of them has previously
appeared. 2 Sam. 3.30 says that Joab and Abishai have killed
Asahel, although previously only Joab is named as the responsible party. The remark is in fact an addition, but immediately
afterwards David complains about the sons of Zeruiah. In
16.10 David turns to the sons of Zeruiah, even though only
Abishai has just spoken; similarly, 19.22. In 20.6 David gives
Abishai the task of following Sheba. But already in v. 7 we see
Joab right behind Abishai, and v. 10 clearly states that Joab
and his brother Abishai pursue the insurrectionist.
Apart from the law of two speaking characters and the laws
of twins, the number 'two' does not have a large part to play.
1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 6.
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Two daughters are born in 1 Sam. 2.21 and 14.49. Amnon is

murdered two years after his shameful deed (2 Sam. 13.23).
Of the seven Saulides, two are mentioned by name (2 Sam.
21.8).
A disproportionately large part is played by the number three.
It shows the truth of Olrik's statement: The law of the number three extends like a broad stripe through the world of the
saga, through centuries and millennia of human culture.
Semitic culture, and Aryan culture even more so, is subject to
this mighty ruler.'1
The entire book stands under the law of threes: the action
centres on three main characters. In 1 Sam. l.lff. three characters go to Shiloh: Elkanah, Peninnah and Hannah. In the
subsequent journey (w. 19-28), three characters are named
also: Hannah, Samuel and Eli.2 Verse 24: three objects are
taken along for the sacrificial meal: a three-year-old bull, flour
and wine. 2.13: the portions of the sacrifice are brought out
with a three-pronged fork. In v. 14 the Massoretic Text
names four vessels in which the meat of the sacrifice boils,
while the LXX names three. This will be the original number.
In 2.21 Hannah has three sons as well as two daughters (the
same portion as Saul's family in 14.49). 3.8: three times Yahweh calls Samuel in vain. Chapter 5: of the five Philistine
cities, three are named as places the Ark comes to. It looks as
though the reader is not to be wearied by more names. 7.16:
Samuel goes every year to Bethel, Gilgal and Mizpah to sit in
judgment. 8.13: the daughters' professions are given as those
of perfumers, cooks and bakers. According to v. 14 the king is
going to take from his subjects fields, vineyards and olive
orchards. 9.20: the asses were lost three days previously. 10.3:
Saul will meet three men carrying three objects for sacrifice: a
kid, bread and wine. In 11.11 Saul divides his army into three
companies; cf. the three plundering Philistine hosts in 13.17
and the division of David's army into three in 2 Sam. 18.2. In
12.9, Sisera, the Philistines and Moab are named as oppressors
of Israel. Verse 11 names four judges as deliverers, but if
1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 4.
2. The LXX also introduces Elkanah here; but this is not original.
143
'Samuel' is an interpolation, and there is much that speaks for

this, then there are only three. 14.32: the soldiers slaughter
sheep, oxen and calves. 16.6ff.: no more than three of Jesse's
sons are named (cf. on ch. 5). 16.20: Jesse sends Saul bread,
wine and a kid. 17.5-7: the Philistine's armour and weapons
are listed as helmet, coat of mail, leg greaves, javelin, spear,
shieldtwo threes. 17.13: Jesse's three eldest sons have gone
to the front. In 17.17fF. David takes parched grain, bread and
cheese as a love-gift. According to v. 25, whoever defeats the
Philistine will receive riches, the king's daughter and exemption from taxes. In vv. 38f. Saul dresses David with his
armour, helmet and sword. The coat of mail is an addition. In
v. 45 David names as the Philistine's weapons: sword, spear
and javelin. In 18.6 the women come to meet the victors 'with
timbrels, songs of joy and harps'. Chapters 18 and 19 tell of
David's relations with three of Saul's children: Jonathan,
Merab and Michal. In 19.12, to deceive the king's messengers
Michal uses the teraphim, the net and the blanket. In w. 20f.,
three times messengers are sent out to catch David. 20.19:
David is to hide for three days. In 20.24f. there are three people
at the king's table. Verse 41: David bows down three times
before the parting. In chs. 23 and 24 there are descriptions of
three attempts by Saul to apprehend David, at Keilah, Maon
and Engedi. 25.11: Nabal is afraid of having to supply David
with bread, wine and meat. In v. 18, however, Abigail packs
not only bread, wine and meat, but also parched corn, grapes
and fig cakes2 x 3 items. 27.8: David attacks the Geshurites,
Perizzites and Amalekites. These are the inhabitants of the
area from Telam to Shur and Egypt (designation by three
geographical terms). In v. 10 David claims to have made
incursions into the Negeb of Judah, that of the Jerahmeelites
and that of the Kenites. In 28.6 Saul receives no answer from
Yahweh, not through dreams, nor by lots, nor by prophets.
30.1: David's journey takes three days. In v. 3, wives, sons and
daughters are taken captive. Verse 12: the slave has eaten
nothing for three days and three nights, because he was left
behind sick three days ago (v. 13). In v. 14 he says that his
company have made a raid on the Negeb of the Kenites, that of
Judah and that of Caleb. Verse 16: the bandits are busy eating,
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drinking and dancing. 31.Iff.: the Philistines slay three sons of

Saul.
2 Sam. 1.2: the messenger comes to Saul on the third day.
2.15: in the contests there are twelve ( = 4 x 3 ) warriors on each
side. 2.18: the three sons of Zeruiah. 3.2-5: in Hebron six sons (2
x 3) are born to David.
In 2 Sam. 5.13ff. the names of eleven children are listed as
being born to David in Jerusalem. According to 1 Chron. 3.5ff.
and 14.4ff. there were thirteen. In the two Chronicles passages
Eliphelet is mentioned twice. There were assuredly twelve
names originally in Chronicles, and thus also in Samuel,
where one has dropped out. 4 x 3 children were born to David
in Jerusalem, then, twice as many as in Hebron (2 Sam.
3.2ff.a case of heightening, too).
6.19: David gives each participant in the feast a loaf, a...(?)
and a cake of raisins. 8.2: the captured Moabites are laid on the
ground and measuredalways two lines for death and one
for life! One out of each group of three survives. 8.16-18 (as
also 20.23-25) speaks of three offices at David's court, to which
three more have later been added. Chapter 11: Uriah is on
leave for three days. 13.19: Tamar shows three signs of sufferingshe puts ashes on her head, rends her clothes and lays
her hand on her head. Verse 38: Absalom remains in exile for
three years. In 14.29ff. Absalom makes three attempts to
speak with Joab.
In 16.1 Ziba brings on his asses bread, raisins, figs and wine,
four kinds of food. He tells the king (v. 2) that the asses are for
riding, the bread and figs for eating, the wine for drinking. He
thus uses a three-fold structure. Since he includes the asses, he
brackets bread and figs together. But why does he not mention
the raisins, which according to v. 1 he should have had with
him? It is to be presumed that Ziba should want to draw the
king's attention to everything he has brought. Could not the
raisins in v. 1 owe their existence to the sympathy of a scribe
(cf. Schulz, I, pp. 13, 406)? We should then have the number
three in the original there also.
17.27: Shobi, Machir and Barzillai attend to the fleeing
David. Verse 29: the people are hungry, tired and thirsty. 18.2:
the army is entrusted to three commanders. Verse 14: Joab
thrusts three darts into Absalom's chest. 19.24: as a sign of
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mourning Mephibosheth has not dressed his feet, nor

trimmed his beard nor washed his clothes. 21.1: a famine
rages in Israel for three years. 23.8: David's three heroes.
23.24: the 'thirty' (10 x 3). 23.13: three of the 'thirty' fight their
way through and fetch water. 24.13: David is presented with a
choice between three punishments. The number three figures
in each of them: three1 years of famine, or three months
fleeing from the enemy, or three days of pestilence: In v. 22
Araunah gives David oxen, sledges and yokes. The number of
occasions where the number three predominates is extremely
great. The number is applied to people, things and events.
Occasionally even different kinds of concepts are grouped
together into threes; cf. 1 Sam. 17.25; 18.6.2
Other numbers are not so frequently represented. We have
the number four in 1 Sam. 10.5 (four kinds of instruments
throw the prophets into ecstasies); 2 Sam. 15.7 (Absalom
spends four years preparing the revolt); 21.15-22 (four fights
with giants). The number five: 1 Sam. 6.4 (five golden mice
corresponding to the number of the lords of the Philistines);
13.6 (five hiding-places to which the Israelites flee); 14.47 (Saul
defeats five peoples); 17.40 (David puts five stones in his
pouch); 25.42 (Abigail's five maids); 27.9 (in the course of his
campaigns David carries off sheep, oxen, asses, camels and
clothes); 2 Sam. 6.5 (five instruments are played as the Ark is
transported). The numbers six and twelve are mentioned with
the number three. The number seven: 1 Sam. 13.8 (Saul waits
seven days; cf. 10.8); 16.10 (seven sons of Jesse); 31.13 (seven
days of fasting); 2 Sam. 12.18 (David's child becomes sick for
1. Seven should be emended to three; cf. Schulz, II, p. 288.
2. For suggestions for an explanation of this phenomenon cf. Olrik,
'Epische Gesetze', pp. 4, 11; Konig, op. cit., p. 52; Sturmer, op. cit.,
pp. 569ff. With Olrik and Konig I should like to express my opposition
to any derivation of this from religious considerations: the paradigm
could, amongst other things, be the way nature is frequently structured in threes (morning, noon, eveningearth, sky, seaheaven,
earth, underworldanimals, fish, birds). E. Norden (Vergils Aeneis
VI [1903], p. 109) finds in classical works the construction and structuring of material in accordance with the law of threes. Besides the
Aeneid he cites the Hymns of Pindar, the wreath-speech of Demosthenes, the Odes of Horace. This is no longer nature, but art.
146
seven days); 21.6 (the Gibeonites despatch seven men to their

deaths). The number ten: 1 Sam. 1.8 ('ten sons'); 17.17 (David
takes ten loaves with him); 25.5 (ten messengers sent to
Nabal); 25.38 (Nabal sick for ten days); 2 Sam. 18.11 (Joab
would have given ten pieces of silver for Absalom's death);
18.15 (Joab takes ten attendants with him).
One cannot say that the tight, concise and formalized
aspects with which we have been concerned have made the
narrative dull. On the contrary. Moreover, the author has at
his disposal rich means of making it lively and attractive.
Chiasm might be reckoned among these means although it
does not occur very frequently. It occurs in 1 Sam. 1.2: 'the
name of one was Hannah, and the name of the other Penninah. And Penninah had children, but Hannah had no children.' It seems to be used in w. 4-6 also. There it is said that
Elkanah gives Penninah and Hannah portions from the
sacrificial meat. Then something is related concerning Hannah, and finally concerning Penninah. In the added section
15.24-31 the speakers are Saul to Samuel and then, after a
pause, Samuel to Saul. Due regard is also paid to chiasm in
dialogues: in 22.10 Doeg relates of Ahitub, 'he enquired of the
Lord for him, and gave him provisions'. In v. 13 Saul makes
use of this information in his interrogation thus: 'in that you
have given him bread..., and have enquired of God for him'.
Apart from the reversal of the order, there are changes in the
expression (cf. below). This is a further means of averting
monotony. 1 Sam. 25.3: 'the name of the man was Nabal, and
the name of his wife Abigail. The woman was of good understanding and beautiful, but the man was churlish and illbehaved.' 2 Sam. 3.1: 'There was a long war between the
house of Saul and the house of David; and David grew stronger
and stronger, while the house of Saul became weaker and
weaker'. (Note the small change in the phrasing.) Verse 8: the
first of the two sentences which Abner speaks to Ishbosheth
begins with 'today', and the second finishes with it. 10.1, 2:
'After this the king of the Ammonites died, and Hanun his son
reigned in his stead. And David said, "I will deal loyally with
Hanun the son of Nahash, as his father dealt loyally with
me".' The logical order in the second sentence would be: 'The
147
father has been loyal to me; therefore I too will be loyal to his
son'. It would then correspond to the order in the first sentence. But the sequence is the other way round (notice the
change in the phrasing again here). 19.6: 'yu lve these who
hate you and hate those who love you'. Here the chiasm does
not relate to the structure of the sentence but to the expressions. There is a further chiasm in 2 Sam. 19.25.l
A simple but effective device in lending vividness to the narrative is contrast. As if as a matter of course, frequently persons
(also 'twins' and collective persons) appear in opposition to one
another and illumine one another by their distinctive characteristics. A few such pairs may be mentioned. 1 Sam. 1.2ff.: the
childless, oppressed Hannah, and the well-blessed, scornful
Penninah. Chapters 1-3: the wayward sons of Eli and the
pious Samuel. 8.3: the good father (Samuel) and the bad sons.
Chapter 8: the progressive Israelites and the stubbornly conservative Samuel. 11.4-7: the men of Gibeah who behave like
women, and the fierce Saul. Chapter 14: the inflexible Saul and
the courageously resolute Jonathan. Chapter 17: the loudmouthed Goliath and the cowardly Israelites. Also, the experienced warrior-giant and the weak shepherd-boy. 18.12ff.: the
jealous, suspicious Saul and a David whose good fortune practically pursues him. Chapters 18-20: Saul full of hatred;
Jonathan and Michal full of love for David. Chapters 24, 26:
the vengeful Saul and the magnanimous David. Chapter 25:
the stupid, coarse, miserly Nabal, and the clever, beautiful and
generous Abigail. Chapter 27: the imprudent Philistines and
the cunning David. 2 Samuel 2: the feeble Ishbosheth and a
David bursting with vigour. Chapters 2, 3: the shadow king
1. Elsewhere too chiasm seems to be popular. I might mention, at
random, such passages as Gen. 4.1, 2, 3-5; 12.3a; Exod. 6.26 ('these are
the Aaron and Moses...'), v. 27 ('this Moses and this Aaron'); 1 Kgs
3.12, 23; Est. 6.13 (emendation following LXX!). In the NT 1 Cor. 13.1, 4.
Perhaps it lies in the nature of the Hebrew language. Might one think
of the waw consecutive or inversive, as J. Hehn calls it? The imperfect
joins up with the perfect and vice versa. The perfect consists of verb
and pronoun, the imperfect of pronoun and verb. In one case, then, we
have the chiasm verb + pronoun: pronoun + verb; in the other pronoun
+ verb: verb + pronoun.
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Ishbosheth and his tyrannical minister. Chapter 3: the trusting Abner and the sly Joab. 6.20: the haughty, mocking Michal
and the pious, humble David. Chapter 11: the adulterous, sly
king and the harmless, abstemious warrior. Chapter 13:
Amnon is consumed with sinful love for his step-sister, and
after misusing her, he drives her out shamefully. 13.3If.: the
excitable David and the cool Jonadab. Chapter 14: the garrulous woman and the patiently attentive king. Chapter 15: the
treacherous son of the king and the loyal vassal from the land
of the Philistines. Chapter 16: the chiding, stone-thro wing
Benjaminite and the devout, soothing David. Chapter 18: the
lamenting David and the energetic Joab. Chapter 21: the cowardly, resentful Gibeonites and the self-sacrificing Rizpah.
A further device which might be mentioned is variation. It is
commonly known that Homer repeats what has been said,
word for word, when a task is being carried out or a piece of
information is being repeated. In the long run this is monotonous, to the point of tedium. In such cases one already knows
what is coming and the reader is tempted to skip over the passage. Naturally, the haste and restlessness that characterize
the present day have something to do with this feeling. These
word-for-word repetitions may have had a different effect on
the simple folk who listened to the singer. We can observe the
same thing in the Gilgamesh Epic. In the tenth column, for
example, we read the description of the grieving Gilgamesh
six times in the same words (33ff., 40ff., 102ff., 107ff., 193ff.,
200ff.), the same thing having been said in relation to Enkidu
in 8.38ff. In such and similar cases our author makes variations.
In 1 Sam. 6.7, 8 the priests of the Philistines specify in which
way the Ark is to be brought out of the land: in the execution of
this in vv. lOf. other expressions are used. This would be
unthinkable in Homer. In 1 Sam. 14.10 Jonathan suggests the
Philistines might say, 'Come up to us'. This is to be a proof that
Yahweh has given the Philistines into their hands. In v. 12 it is
then said that the Philistines call: 'Come up to us, and we will
show you a thing*. The same sense, but different wording.
According to 14.24, before the battle with the Philistines Saul
has sworn: 'Cursed be the man who eats food until it is evening
149
and I am avenged on my enemies'. The soldier who tells

Jonathan of this (v. 28), however, presents the oath in the
abbreviated form: 'Cursed be the man who eats food this day'.
What in 15.18 Samuel tells Saul is Yahweh's mission differs in
form from what Yahweh has said to Samuel according to v. 3.
In 20.6 David asks Jonathan, if Saul should miss him, to say:
'David earnestly asked leave of me to run to Bethlehem his
city; for there is a yearly sacrifice there for all the family*. In
v. 29 Jonathan gives the following as David's words: 'Let me
go; for our family hold a sacrifice in the city, and my brother
has commanded me to be there. So now, if I have found favour
in your eyes, let me get away, and see my brothers.' In 23.2
David asks the oracle: 'Shall I go and attack these Philistines?'
The answer will be 'yes' or 'no', according to whether the stone
named 'Urim' or 'Thummim' is chosen. But here it says that
Yahweh answered: 'Go and attack the Philistines and save
Keilah'.l When David enquires of the oracle for the second
time on the same matter, he receives the same answer, but in
the form: 'Arise, go down to Keilah; for I will give the
Philistines into your hand' (v. 4).
The writer says in 28.6 that Yahweh did not answer Saul
'either by dreams, or by Urim, or by prophets'. In v. 15 Saul
tells the spirit that God does not answer him 'either by
prophets or by dreams'. There are no fewer than four changes
to be noted: (a) Saul omits the 'Urim'; (b) he uses a different
order; (c) he uses Elohim for Yahweh; (d) before 'prophets' we
have beyad here, as opposed to be in v. 6. In 29.3 Achish
declares to the commanders concerning David: 'Since he
deserted to me I have found no fault in him to this day5. In v. 6
he says to David: 'for I have found nothing wrong in you from
the day of your coming to me to this day*.
In 2 Sam. 13.5 Jonadab advises Amnon to pretend to be ill
and to say to David: 'Let my sister Tamar come and give me
bread to eat, and prepare the food in my sight, that I may see it,
and eat it from her hand'. However, in v. 6 Amnon says: 'Pray
1. The answer is elaborated and expanded by the writer in line with
the sense. The added phrase 'and save Keilah' is to be seen in the same
light as Eve's addition to the divine command: 'neither shall you touch
it' (Gen. 3.3).
150
let my sister Tamar come and make a couple of cakes in my

sight, that I may eat from her hand'. That the second sentence
is worded differently, in particular that it is constructed in a
briefer form than the first, cannot be due to the forgetfulness of
the narrator, since it follows immediately from the other. This
is therefore a case of intentional alteration. In 15.34 David
instructs his friend Hushai to address Absalom thus: 'I will be
your servant, O king; (let me live!) as I have been your father's
servant in time past, so now I will be your servant'. By contrast, according to 16.16 Hushai greets Absalom thus: 'Long
live the king! Long live the king!' And in response to Absalom's
derisive question (v. 17) he declares (w. 18f.): 'No; for whom
the Lord and his people and all the men of Israel have chosen,
his I will be, and with him I will remain. And again, whom
should I serve? Should it not be his son? As I have served your
father, so I will serve you.' What Hushai says is perfectly in
accord with David's aims; but he uses quite different words. He
speaks as the moment dictates. Should we put this down to the
considered judgment and artistry of the author? I think it is
more a natural sensitivity which does not allow itself to be tied.
In 17.16 Hushai asks that David be told: 'Do not lodge tonight
at the fords of the wilderness, but by all means pass over'. The
sons of the priests, however, say to David: 'Arise, and go
quickly over the water' (v. 21). According to 18.5 David orders
his generals: 'Deal gently for my sake with the young man
Absalom'. An eyewitness, however, claims to have heard: 'For
my sake protect the young man Absalom' (v. 12).
Occasionally in such cases nothing at all is repeated, but
what was said earlier is simply alluded to. 1 Sam. 3.18: 'so
Samuel told him everything'. The reader knows what he told
him from what has gone before. 8.10: 'So Samuel told all the
words of the Lord to the people'. The words are given in w. 79. According to 17.23 Goliath speaks 'the same words as
before'. According to v. 27 the people answer David 'in the
same way'. According to v. 30 David asks 'in the same way'.
18.24: 'Thus and so did David speak'. In 25.9 David's men
report 'all this' to Nabal, namely the instructions in w. 5-8. In
2 Sam. 17.6, Absalom says to Hushai: 'Thus has Ahithopel spoken'. According to v. 15 Hushai reports to the priests: 'Thus
and so did Ahithophel counsel Absalom and the elders of Israel;
151
and thus and so have I counselled'. Verse 21: Tor thus and so
has Ahithophel counselled'. In 14.3 we have the reverse. Joab
says to the woman of Tekoa: 'Go to the king, and speak thus to
him.' It continues, 'So Joab put the words in her mouth'. But
what words he puts in her mouth we do not learn until the
woman's conversation with David. This is intentional. The
reader is not supposed to hear Joab's assuredly concise
instructions but the woman's torrent of words.
On other occasions, too, we find variation. 1 Samuel 5 relates
how the Ark wreaks havoc in three Philistine cities. The same
misfortune occurs each time; but the individual descriptions
vary. In 16.6ff. the presentation of Jesse's individual sons is
related in different ways.
The practice we have discussed makes a definite contribution to the vividness of the presentation. We have nothing rigid
or ossified in the narratives, but spirit and life.1
Related to this variation is heightening, found especially in
repetitions.
1 Sam. 4.1-11 tells of two Israelite defeats. The account of
the second contains a heightening. 30,000 Israelites fall, compared with 4000 in the first defeat; furthermore, the second
time the Ark is lost. The ill tidings to Eli consist of four sentences: (a) the Israelites are defeated; (b) the defeat is great; (c)
Eli's two sons have fallen; (d) the Ark of God is taken. Each
1. This variation is also found in Genesis. Cf. 14.14 with vv. 17, 18;
24.3-8 with w. 37-41; 27.3, 4 with v. 7; 31.24 with v. 29; 41.2ff. with
w. 17ff. That in this area, too, there is no linear development, we can
see from the later book of Esther, where we find a kind of Homeric repetition. In 6.9 and 6.11 the suggestion and its execution agree almost
word for word. 5.6 and 7.2: on both days, the king asks the same question of the queen, with the same promise. Gressmann (op. cit., p. 174)
derives the stylistic rule of word-for-word repetition in the Gilgamesh
Epic from an ancient time 'when the capability for expression and presentation was not so highly developed as at a later stage with whose
intellectual powers verbosity is most consistent and to whose skills the
variation form would be best suited'. But in the books of Samuel there
are particular reasons for any 'verbosity' to be found; cf. pp. 137f.
above. Does Gressmann wish to explain the word-for-word repetitions
in the truly artistic Homeric poems as a relic from ancient times also?
And is word-for-word repetition of what has already been said not precisely a sign of verbosity?
152
successive piece of news is worse than the one before. The

worst news is saved till the end. We have the same heightening, with the main point at the end, in the account of the battle
of Gilboah given to David in 2 Sam. 1.4: The people have fled
from the battle, and many of the people also have fallen and
are dead, and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead'. Further, in Joab's report in 2 Sam. 11.24: 'Some of the king's servants are dead; and your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead
also'. 1 Sam. 5.3, 4: on two consecutive days, in the temple in
Ashdod the idol has fallen to the ground before the Ark of
Yahweh. The second time, its head and hands have broken off.
17.26, 30: David twice asks the soldiers what the victor over
the Philistine is to receive. The heightening consists in the fact
that he asks a second time even though his eldest brother has
scolded him precisely for his forwardness. 19.23: Saul raves in
the presence of the prophets just as his soldiers have just done;
but his raving is described in detail. 20.26ff.: on two consecutive
days, Saul misses David at table. The first time he keeps his
thoughts to himself; the second time he says something. In
chs. 23 and 24 we have three accounts of how David escapes
from his pursuer Saul. They are connected to each other and
contain a heightening (cf. Schulz, I, p. 352). 2 Sam. Il.TfF.:
David twice tries to get Uriah to go into his house. The heightening consists in his previously inviting him to dine for the
second time and attempting to get him drunk (v. 13). 14.29ff.:
Absalom makes two vain attempts to summon Joab. The third
time he uses violent means. He has Joab's barley field set on
fire.
Occasionally the narrator does not make straight for his goal
but makes a detour, introducing a delay. By this means, too, he
adds vividness to the accounts.
In 1 Sam. 4.12ff. the bearer of ill tidings arrives at Shiloh.
The blind Eli waits in suspense, above all on account of the Ark
of God. The reader, who already knows of its loss, wonders
how the priest will take the news. The anticipated outcome is
then held up by Eli's questions as to what is the meaning of the
tumult. At last the messenger arrives. But he does not immediately report on what is the main concern for Eli, but after a
few words of introduction he comes out with one piece of
153
grievous news after another, ending with the loss of the Ark.
The reader is able to share in some of the old man's agonies.
In the election of the king by lots in 10.17ff. it is only little by
little that the turn of the intended one approaches. And when
finally the lot falls on the son of Kish, he is not there; his
whereabouts have to be ascertained by means of further casting of lots. 12.18f.: the people are apparently firm in their
demands for a king. All Samuel's arguments and warnings
have fallen on deaf ears. Then Yahweh sends thunder and
rain. The people are so intimidated by this that they feel regret
and regard the demand for a king as wickedness. It looks as
though Israel will not be getting a king, so that Samuel himself
now has to encourage them. 15.12: Samuel wants to take the
shortest route to Saul. On the way, he learns that he has taken
a roundabout route to Gilgal. The meeting is thus put off.
16.Iff.: it takes some time for the future king to appear for his
anointing. 17.33ff.: Saul wants to restrain David from fighting
against the Philistines. In w. 43ff. the dialogue between Goliath and David holds up the action. 18.20ff.: David is to receive
Michal from Saul as his wife. The wedding is postponed
because of the difficulty in raising the dowry. 19.12ff.: Saul's
minions do not immediately notice the deception, not until the
next morning, after a second inspection. 21.2ff.: before David
can present his petition to the priest, the latter holds him up
with an awkward question, which David answers with a lie.
Only then can he ask for provisions. Compliance with the
request is delayed by a second question from the priest. 22.17:
the execution of Saul's assassination order is postponed a little
when his men refuse to kill the priests. 23.3: the anxiety of his
men causes David, after the clear decision of the oracle, to
enquire once more of the oracle before he goes to Keilah. 28.9:
the woman of Endor at first refuses to perform the exorcism.
Similarly, in v. 23 Saul initially refuses to eat. 29.8: David at
first contradicts Achish's demand that he should withdraw
from the battle. 30.15: the slave is only prepared to act as
David's guide on condition that David gives him a sworn
promise. 31.4: the armour-bearer refuses to give Saul the coup
de grace.
2 Sam. 6.10: the Ark is not transported to Jerusalem for the
time being but kept in the house of Obed-edom. 12.5: by means
154
of his remark David briefly holds up Nathan's sentence. But

the judgment is all the more shattering as a result. 13.12f.:
Amnon's shameful deed is delayed a little by his sister's moving request. 13.25: on Absalom's invitation to the sheepshearing festival David raises objections. 14.24: Absalom, on his
return home from exile, is not permitted to see the king for the
time being. 14.29ff.: Joab at first refuses to come to Absalom.
17.18ff.: the sons of the priests are held up on their way to
David and have to hide. 18.20: Joab wants to restrain Ahimaaz
from taking the message to the king. Verse 29: the giving of
the news of Absalom's death to David is put off by Ahimaaz's
veiled statement. 20.8ff.: the pursuit of the insurgent is delayed
a little by the incident with Amasa. 21.4: the Gibeonites, full of
hatred, first explain what they do not require. 24.3: to begin
with, Joab raises doubts about David's plan.
One gets the impression that the author also applies the
device of retardation, which is quite effective, more unconsciously than consciously.
Heightening and retardation serve more or less the same end:
they are intended to stimulate suspense. But this suspense is
not carried to extremes. Conversely, the author also has at his
disposal ways of relieving suspense. Prominent among these is
the law of the conclusion.1 To understand this we may think of
certain recent novels. Just let the conclusion of HandelMazetti's Jesse and Maria have its effect! Of the two main
characters, Jesse dies on the scaffold, while Maria is in deadly
despair, because she realizes that her good intentions alone
have brought this about. Nothing further follows. Readers
cannot rid themselves of their impression of the bloody head
held aloft by the executioner and of the woman writhing in
torment. Nerve-tingling suspense in the extreme! Is this nec1. On this, cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', pp. 2f.: 'Hundreds of folksongs end, not with the death of the lovers, but with the two roses that
spring up from their graves and intertwine their branches with one
another. Thousands of sagas add the revenge of the dead person or the
punishment of the culprit; or they give a locally fixed description of the
burial mound, of the descendants or the like. The constant recurrence
of this fact shows that it is not merely a matter of the narrator's
congeniality coming to expression, but a dictate of form.'
155
essary? Every pilgrim on the Via Dolorosa can be grateful to

the Church that it shows fourteen stations and does not end
with the twelfth. The thirteenth and fourteenth have a calming and relaxing effect. This is how our author proceeds too.
True, there are shattering events. But the narrator is at pains
not to finish on the climax but to dim the lights and calm the
mood. This law of conclusions seems to apply even when the
climax has nothing like a shattering effect.
We have an example of this already in 1 Sam. 1.18b. The
climax consists in Hannah's gaining the priest's understanding. The passage concludes with Hannah's departure and the
fact that she no longer looks so unhappy. 2.17: after the sacrilege perpetrated by the sons of Eli has been described, the passage concludes with a general remark about the enormity of
their sin. 3.18b: after the terrible threat which Samuel has
brought to Eli on Yahweh's behalf, Eli's assurance that Yahweh may do what seems good to him has a calming effect on
the reader. 4.1-11: the unhappy battle at Ebenezer climaxes in
the loss of the Ark of God. The sad news in v. lla, however,
does not form the conclusion of the section, which comes with
the death of the wayward sons of Eli, apparently seen as a kind
of divine judgment. The last piece of grievous news thus tempers the first. 4.18ff.: following the shattering death of Eli
comes the sober remark that he was judge in Israel for forty
years, and after this the less impressive death of his daughterin-law, who as a wholly subordinate person is not even named.
But the section does not even conclude with her death but with
the announcement of the name of her son.
10.25: the climax of the passage is the jubilation of the people
over the newly chosen King Saul. Then follows the quite business-like remark that Samuel wrote down the laws of the
kingship. And if this sentence be considered a postscript, there
then follows the certainly original dismissal of the people to
their own homes. The reader notes that the jubilation dies
down and that everything returns to its normal course. 14.46:
what precedes is a quite exciting incident which is a matter of
life and death for Jonathan. On tenterhooks, the reader learns
that Jonathan is saved, and there then follows the sober concluding remark that Saul has stopped pursuing the Philistines
and they have returned to their country. 15.34: a more recent
156
writer would have concluded with the killing of Agag by Saul.

Here we are further told where Saul and Samuel go to. 16.13:
the climax of the section is the anointing of David. It concludes
with Samuel's return home to Ramah. 17.51: it is not the
killing of the Philistine that is at the end, but the flight of his
comrades. 19.15-20. la: the climax is Saul's raving. The conclusion is formed by the proverb and the flight of Saul. 20.34:
the section ends, not with Saul's remonstration against
Jonathan but with the remark that Jonathan went away and
ate nothing. 22.6-23: the conclusion is not formed by the murder of the priests but the rescue of one of them. 23.13: the section breaks off not upon David's escape, which settles the main
concern, but upon Saul's calling the pursuit to a halt. 23.28: the
news of David's salvation is followed by the business-like
remark explaining the name given to the place. Chapter 25
does not close with the death of Nabal but with his wife's wedding. 28.21-25: the woman of Endor's concern for Saul would
hardly have been mentioned by a more recent writer, who
would have closed with the fit that Saul has in his despair
(v. 20). Just as the sympathetic woman's hospitality strengthens the king, so the account of it calms the reader. Chapter 30:
the conclusion is not formed by the punishment of the
Amalekites but the use made of the booty. Chapter 31 closes,
not with the desecration of the corpses, but with the labour of
love by the men of Jabesh, who bury the corpses.
2 Samuel 2: after the bloody contest we read of burial and
returning home. 3.35ff.: the tragic report of Abner's death and
burial is followed by more business-like remarks about David's
behaviour. 4.12: at the end we do not have the execution of Ishbaal's murderers but the honorable interment of Ishbosheth's
head. 11.27: after Uriah is dead and Bathsheba's period of
mourning is over, David takes her to wife. This is also a wicked
deed, it is true; but a wedding has a more pacifying effect than
a death. 12.24: the death of one child is followed by the birth of
the second. 12.3 Ib: it is not the cruel treatment of the Ammonites that forms the conclusion but David's home-coming.
13.22: the section does not end with the dishonouring and discarding of Tamar by Amnon, but goes on to tell of the tension
that comes between Amnon and Absalom, which is less disturbing. In 14.33, the climax (David's reconciliation with
157
Absalom) does in fact come at the end: 'the king kissed Absalom'; but there is nothing disturbing about this conclusion.
16.14 relates that, after his exhausting flight, David rested: this
is a resting-point for the reader too. 17.23 ends not with the
death of Ahithophel but with his burial. Similarly, 18.16f.:
Absalom's death is followed by a cessation of hostilities and
Absalom's funeral. 20.22: after the killing of Sheba there follows an account of the home-coming of the warriors.
One need not suppose that in this 'calmative conclusion' the
narrator is pursuing a particular intention or that he thought
anything of it at all. It simply comes naturally, whereas the
conclusions that are popular nowadays aim to whip up the
emotions.
Relief is further brought about by means of a number of scenes
and expressions that produce a comic effect. One is reminded
of the fool in Shakespeare. It may well have seemed comical to
an Israelite, with his spiritual view of God, that to atone for the
dishonoured Ark the Philistines have to give five golden mice
(1 Sam. 6.4). According to the additions in w. 4, 5, 11, golden
tumours were also part of the donation: images of the tumours
associated with the plague, which had formed on the bodies of
the afflicted Philistines. A scribe has added this in order to
increase the mockery of the Philistines. The comic aspect is
taken a step further by the LXX which translates the word for
tumours with e8pcci, 'rumps' (the Vulgate, following this, has
ani)\ In 12.19 it might almost seem comical that the people,
who have been very vigorously clamouring for a king, now
suddenly withdraw their demand when at Samuel's request
Yahweh sends thunder and rain, and that Samuel, who is
having reluctantly to retire, now has to pacify the people himself. It is amusing, how little David takes a few clumsy steps in
King Saul's heavy armour and has to take it off (17.39), how
Michal dupes her own father in David's escape (19.12ff.), how
Saul raves and lies naked before Samuel for a day and a night
(20.23f.), how David outwits the stupid Philistines, and how
Achish speaks of his entourage: 'Do I lack madmen, that you
have brought this fellow to play the madman in my presence?'
(21.14ff.), how Saul thinks at last he has caught his prey, when
he suddenly has to turn back (23.26ff.), how David cuts a piece
158
off Saul's coat while Saul is relieving himself in the cave

(24.4f.). Nabal, stupid, miserly and a drunkard, is a really
comic figure (ch. 25). David relieves the sleeping Saul of his
spear and afterwards before the whole company he ridicules
the commander who has kept watch so badly (26.1 Iff.). Goodnatured Achish has the wool pulled over his eyes by David
(27.12). One has to smile when one reads how the Ammonite
king has the beards of David's envoys half shaved off and their
clothes cut off at the hips and sends them home like this
(2 Sam. 10.4), how David makes one unsuccessful attempt
after another to get Uriah to go into his house in order to
wriggle out of the consequences of his adultery (11.6ff.), how
Absalom only manages to entice the fox Joab out of his kennel
by having his ripe barley set on fire (14.30ff.), how Absalom
gives Hushai's babble a hearing (17.5ff.), how the Judaeans
and the Israelites almost come to blows over the honour of
being permitted to accompany the king home (19.41ff.).
The author shows extreme reticence in his judgments. When
Eli's sons do not heed their father's warning voice, he explains
this by saying that Yahweh has decided to kill them (1 Sam.
2.25). Yahweh is with Samuel: this judgment provides the
explanation for the fact that none of his words remains unfulfilled (3.19). When seventy men die in Beth-shemesh, his
explanation is that Yahweh is angry with them (6.19: textual
emendation; cf. Schulz, I, pp. 108f.). An evil spirit from Yahweh torments Saul: this is the cause of his distractedness
(16.14). Saul's fear of David is explained by the statement that
Yahweh was with David, whereas he had departed from Saul
(18.12). 'David had success in all his undertakings; for Yahweh was with him' (18.14). In 2 Sam. 8.6, 14, the accounts of
David's successful wars, it says: 'And Yahweh gave victory to
David wherever he went'. The writer's judgment of David's
adultery and murder is given in 2 Sam. 11.27. However, it is
quite cautiously presented as the judgment of Yahweh: *but
the thing that David had done displeased Yahweh'. In 2 Sam.
16.23 he indicates what he thinks of Absalom's dreadful deed
in going to his fleeing father's concubines. He abhors it. But he
avoids giving his own judgment on it, saying only that
Ahithophel's counsel was as valid as a word from God. Since
159
Ahithophel had given Absalom this advice (v. 21)some such

reasoning has to be assumedthen he had to carry it out.
2 Sam. 17.14: *Yahweh had ordained to defeat the good counsel
of Ahithophel, so that Yahweh might bring evil upon Absalom'.
2 Sam. 23.10, 12: Tahweh wrought a great victory5.
In most of the cases cited it is a matter of something extraordinary and unexpected, for which the narrator can find no
other explanation than special divine intervention. But in the
two remaining passages also, the deity is taken into consideration. On one occasion a terrible deed has evoked Yahweh's
displeasure (2 Sam. 11.27); on the other, a heinous misdeed
might be explicable if the miscreant was under the mistaken
impression that this was the will of God (16.23).
It is important for the reader of a narrative to get to know
the characters presented, from the inside, to look into their
minds. How do we achieve this in the books of Samuel? Spiritual qualities and thoughts are less frequently mentioned or
described than signalled externally by means of actions and
facial expressions, by speeches by the characters themselves or
speeches of others about them, and by means of contrast.
Usually we have to infer the inner from the outer, just as after
the rape of Tamar Jonadab draws his own conclusions from
Absalom's facial expressions (2 Sam. 13.32). Readers are thus
forced to work things out for themselves. The thoughts of
characters presented are mentioned extremely rarely, as
when in 1 Sam. 18.25 Saul thinks to let David fall into the
hands of the Philistines. In w. 17b and 2 la the same thought
is described as a speech, presumably a monologue. In 27.1
David talks to himself.1 In 25.21, 39 and 27.11, David in any
case speaks to those around him, and therefore aloud. On the
exceptional occasions when a person's qualities are mentioned,
the statement is generally supported by an action.2
In 1 Sam. 1.7 it is not said that Hannah is hurt by the spitefulness of her rival, but that she weeps and does not eat. It does
say in v. 10 that she is distressed, but immediately afterwards
1. The same expression does occur in relation to Hannah in 1 Sam.
1.13; but there it is her prayer that she is making silently, while the
movement of her lips is visible.
2. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8: 'Every quality of persons and
things must be expressed in actions, or it is nothing'.
160
that she sheds tears. In v. 18 the sudden reversal of her mood

is indicated by her changed facial expression. Verse 8 tells of
Elkanah's kind words to Hannah. We see from this that he
loves her. The same follows from his consent to his wife's suggestion in v. 23. 2.12: the sons of Eli are 'sons of malice'. To
prove this, the author relates how they sin against Yahweh
and the people. 2.20: the blessing that Eli speaks over Hannah
proves how pleased he is with Samuel. Chapter 3: the character of the young Samuel is marked by the eagerness with
which he three times responds to the supposed call of Eli. Verse
28: Eli's wordsIt is Yahweh; let him do what seems good to
him'prove his submission to the will of God. 4.5: the joy of the
Israelites over the arrival of the Ark is expressed by their loud
jubilation. Verse 7 says that the Philistines are afraid; but their
fear is soon manifested by their words. Verse 12: the messenger proves his grief by his torn clothing and the soil on his head
(similarly, 2 Sam. 1.2). Verse 13 says 'Eli's heart was
alarmed'this alarm is shown in his keeping a look-out.
Verse 18 expresses his horror at the loss of the Ark by means of
his fall from the chair, and v. 19 expresses his daughter-inlaw's horror by her giving birth prematurely. In ch. 5 the
Philistines' anxiety about the Ark is shown in their words.
6.19f.: 'the people mourned'. The grief is expressed in words.
Similarly, in 7.8 the Israelites' fear is shown in their words to
Samuel. 8.3: it is not said of Samuel's sons that they were
unjust, but that they sought their own gain, that they accepted
bribes and perverted justice. It is from Saul's behaviour and
his words that we learn, in 9.34, that he is keen in his concern
for household affairs, that he is well-disposed towards the servants, that he has a great love for his father, and from the
answers to his uncle, in 10.14ff. that he is reticent and modest.
11.4: all the people of Gibeah weep in sorrow. According to v. 6,
Saul's anger is kindled; but we are immediately told what he
does in his anger. 12.18f.: the people are afraid and make a
corresponding petition. 15.11: 'And Samuel was angry; and he
cried to Yahweh all night'. The anger is expressed in his cries.
According to v. 32, 'Agag came trembling before Samuel'. The
fear is evident in his bearing. 17.11: 'When Saul and all Israel
heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and
greatly afraid'. No external sign is mentioned here. 18.Iff.:
161
Jonathan exchanges clothing and armour with Davida sign

that he loves him. In v. 5, David's qualities are not described
but it is related that he was always successful and popular
with the people. According to w. 8f. Saul becomes furious and
eyes David enviouslysomething external. Verses 12f.: Saul
becomes angry with David. The anger is expressed in his
removing him from his presence. According to v. 15, Saul
stands in awe of David, and according to v. 29 he is still more
afraid of himtwo more cases where no external sign is
mentioned. Verse 30 does not say that David is cleverer than
Saul's other servants but that he acts more cleverly. 20.30ff.:
Saul's anger is expressed in his chidings, and Jonathan's in his
rising and eating nothing. 21.13: David fears Achish, and
therefore pretends to be mad. 23.3: David's men say that they
are filled with fear. 23.15: David is afraid (no external sign!).
24.5: David's heart smites him (similarly 2 Sam. 24.10
something purely internal!). 24.16: Saul weeps with emotion.
25.3: Abigail is outstandingly intelligent, and she gives
significant proofs of this intelligence. In v. 13 David gives his
men the curt command to make ready for combata sign of
his indignation. 28.5: at the sight of the Philistine army Saul is
afraid, and his heart trembles greatly. (Nothing external
mentioned!) In v. 12 the woman of Endor cries out when she
sees Samuel. Verse 20: Saul is afraid on account of the words of
Samuel. But immediately before this it says that he fell full
length on the ground. 30.4: David and his men weep until they
can weep no more. 31.4: the armour-bearer's fear is shown in
the fact that he does not dare to kill Saul despite his order.
2 Sam. 3.11: Ishbosheth's fear of Abner can be seen in the
fact that he cannot answer him a word. 3.16: weeping aloud,
Paltiel follows behind Michal, who has been snatched from
him. 3.32, 34: the weeping king and the weeping men! We are
not told that they are sorrowful but how they express their
sorrow. Verse 36 does not list David's outstanding qualities but
relates that everything he did pleased the people. 4.1: Ishbosheth's 'hands dropped', and Israel 'trembled' (external signs of
fear!). 5.8: because David hates the blind and the lame, he says,
'The blind and the lame shall not enter my house!' 6.9f.:
because David is afraid of the Ark, he has it taken to
Jerusalem. Verses 16, 21: David's joy before Yahweh is
162
expressed in leaping and dancing. 10.2: he reveals his friendly

disposition towards the Ammonite king by sending his servants. 12.5: David becomes angry and declares that the 'rich
man' described by Nathan deserves to die. Verse 16: in sorrow
over his child's sickness he fasts and sleeps on the ground. 13.2:
Amnon is lovesick; this expresses itself in illness. Verse 3: Jonadab's cleverness is revealed in his advice. In v. 16 Amnon has
taken a dislike to his sister, and immediately throws her out.
Verse 19 describes the marks of Tamar's despair. Verse 31: on
hearing the news of Amnon's murder, the king tears his
clothes and throws himself on the ground. The servants, too,
tear their clothes. Verse 37: David mourns for Absalom;
according to v. 39a his spirit wastes away (textual emendation)external signs are not mentioned here. 14.2: Joab has a
wise woman come; her wisdom is evident in her speeches.
15.23: the weeping people. Verse 30: the weeping king (similarly, 19.1). 18.5 does not say that David is concerned for Absalom, but his orders on behalf of Absalom are repeated. 21.10
relates what Rizpah does out of motherly love.
Among the large number of cases cited there are very few in
which there is no external manifestation of an inner emotion.
These would seem to be confined to the following passages:
1 Sam. 17.11; 18.15, 29; 23.15; 24.5; 2 Sam. 13.37, 39; 24.10.
These passages deal exclusively with the emotions of fear and
grief. But fear and grief always appear to be an external matter at the same time. Note such passages as 1 Sam. 4.12; 11.4;
16.4; 28.20; 30.4; 2 Sam. 4.1; 3.31f.; 13.19, 31, 36; 15.23, 30, 32;
19.1.1 The former passages will thus hardly form an exception
to the rule, namely that the internal is always characterized
by the external.2
1. Similarly in the Epic of Gilgamesh. Cf. the externally perceivable
fear of the hunter before Enkidu in 1.95-100. In 9.45f. the face of Gilgamesh darkens with fear and horror.
2. We must also bear in mind that originally these narratives were
probably presentedorally, and that this involved the use of the devices
still employed by Arab storytellers, according to Schmidt and Kahle,
Volkserzahlungen,p. 37: 'Listeningto the tales was facilitated by the
vividness of the presentation and by the narrator's hand-movements
and facial expressions, which painted every mood'. Anyone who has
been with orientals knows 'speaking with the hands'.
163
Nevertheless, a certain 'incapacity for the abstract' would

seem to prevail here, 'as apparently in all popular narrative
art'.1 This incapacity does not, however, prevent the reader
from getting to know very well the characters of the persons
presented.2 This may be briefly shown from a few examples.
Samuel's outstanding quality is his uprightness and concern
for justice. This is evident firstly from the contrast with the
sons of Eli and his own sons, and then in his becoming judge in
Eli's place and performing this office until his death (1 Sam.
7.15). He has the people confirm that he has taken nothing
from anyone, accepted no bribes, and cheated no one (12.3-5).
Although it is extremely painful for him he announces Saul's
rejection to him (15.11, 35). Even after his death he declares to
Saul the justice of Yahweh.
Saul's most striking quality is his bravery. Cf. the relief of
Jabesh (1 Sam. 11); the victorious campaigns against the
Philistines (chs. 13; 14); 'Wherever he turned, he had success'
(14.47); his concern for a strong army (14.52). His love of
fighting even drives him to act against Yahweh's commandment and to sacrifice before Samuel's arrival (13.8ff.). His
suicide (31.4) must necessarily, from the point of view of the
time, be seen as a sign of courage. Cf. also the praiseworthy
record that David accords him in his song about his bravery
(2 Sam. 1.2Iff.).
David far exceeds Saul in bravery, as it says in the wellknown song, Saul has slain a thousand, David ten thousand
(1 Sam. 18.7). He relates to Saul proofs of his courage
(17.34ff.). In addition, there is the killing of the giant (17.41ff.),
and further, his great successes in the service of Saul (18.14,
27). A list of victorious campaigns is given in 2 Samuel 8. Even
in advanced years he wants to participate personally in the
fighting: only his warriors' concerns keep him from doing so
(18.2f.). The Philistine chief Achish appreciates his military
efficiency (1 Sam. 27; 29).
1. Schmidt and Kahle, loc. cit.

2. Cf. Schmidt and Kahle, Volkserzahlungen, p. 39: 'It is not to be
wondered at, then, that our narrators know how to draw characters,
despite their sticking to the visible'.
164
Jonathan's courage is marked by his bold raid (1 Sam. 14.114) and his willingness to die (14.43). The soldiers attribute to
him alone the successful outcome of the battle of Michmash
(14.45). He dies a hero's death (31.2).
His brother Ishbosheth is as much a weakling as Jonathan is
courageous. This is evident in his being appointed king by
Abner (2 Sam. 2.8f.), in that he dares not answer a word to
Abner's effrontery (3.11), in that upon David's demand he
immediately lets Michal be taken from her husband (3.15), in
that he does nothing against Abner's treacherous intrigues
(3.17ff.), and in that he lets himself be murdered without
defending himself (4.7).
These samples should suffice. We learn everything from
very few details. But the characters are by no means always
'simple' ones. Note the contradiction in David's character: he
has unprecedented success as a man of war and a politician,
but he does not know how to behave in his family, and makes
one mistake after another in this domain.1
True enough, nothing is said of an actual character development.2 Samuel is Yahweh's favourite from his youngest
days. The sons of Eli are always going to be wickedfrom
beginning to end. Saul's case is similar to Samuel's. He is popular with the people. Everything turns out well for him. If there
are a few odd people who do not like him, they are sons of the
1. We find this already in Genesis, too. Cf. Abraham's weakness
towards Sarah (16.6). It will hardly do here, with Gunkel (Genesis,
p. xxxviii), to say there is a contrast between the narrative form in
Genesis and that in the books of Samuel.
2. 1 Sam. 2.2b might be cited against the correctness of this statement. Once again I must correct what I said before (Schulz, I, p. 46).
The passage reads: 'Now the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature
and in favour with Yahweh and with men'. For 'with' we have 'im,
i.e. something like 'in the eyes of (cf. Ps. 73.22; 1 Chron. 19.6). It is not
said that Samuel grows better internally in the same measure as he
grows outwardly. In the second part of his statement the author is only
repeating what is outwardly noticeable. First the assessment of him by
other people: people come to love him more and more. Then the assessment by Yahweh, his favour: Yahweh lets success after success come
his way (cf. 3.19; Ps. 1.3). Chapters 13 thus describe only the outward
part of Samuel's development. We of course draw our own conclusions
from this in relation to his inner growth: but the narrator does not
describe this.
165
devil (10.27). Quite suddenly things change, and that without

a trace of any development. As soon as the spirit of Yahweh
has left him (1 Sam. 16.14), everything affects him the opposite way. Now nothing goes right for him any more. His affection for David changes overnight ('since that day', 18.9) into
dislike and hatred. We can perceive no abating of this hatred:
Saul remains constant. (The apparently conciliatory tone of
the speeches in 1 Sam. 24.17ff. and 26.21 is not to be taken
seriously; cf. Schulz, I, pp. 351, 377.) David, too, from the start
succeeds in everything he undertakes. Jonathan is immediately David's friend after having only just met him (18.Iff.).
Abigail is on David's side the moment she hears of him (25.18).
As for Abner, we are not told how he gradually conceives the
idea of treachery towards Ishbosheth, but we are immediately
informed of the corresponding actions (2 Sam. 3.7ff.). In
Amnon's case, his sinful love for Tamar is immediately presupposed (13.1). This of course has not come about all at once;
but we do not learn how it came to this. This love turns instantaneously into hatred (v. 15). Joab immediately assumes an
outstanding, imposing position at his first appearance (2 Sam.
2). Already in 3.24f. his great self-reliance is evident, which he
maintains to the end of the book.
We may observe this same incapacity in respect of the
development of the action. There are pointers, it is truefrom
1 Sam. 8.5, for example, we learn the reasons that led the people to wish for a king. But for the most part the action starts up
quite suddenly. All at once the Ammonite stands before Jabesh
(1 Sam. 11.1); all at once Saul goes out against the Philistines
(13.2). Then it is the Philistines who suddenly make incursions
into Israel (17.1; 28.1). Not a word about shifts in foreign policy! Saul one day is given the task, by Yahweh, of banishing the
Amalekites, and he immediately assembles his army (15.Iff.).
David attacks the Philistines and kills a hundred men (18.27).
He has no trouble winning the confidence of Achish: he is
received right away with open arms (17.Iff.). No sooner has
he settled in Hebron, than he is anointed king over Judah
(2 Sam. 2.4a). Abner's open offer to David (3.12) has naturally
been preceded by exploratory enquires, but we hear nothing of
these. 15.1-6 does tell us how Absalom courts popularity with
the people, but we learn nothing of the actual preparation for
166
the revolt. Quite suddenly the news rings out: 'Absalom is king
at Hebron' (v. 10), and we are in the middle of the revolt. After
Absalom's death, his supporters' attitude has suddenly been
reversed (19.10f.). Sheba's revolt breaks out just as suddenly as
Absalom's (20.1ff.).
2 Sam. 3.1, where the external development of David's
power is hinted at, does little to alter the picture: in general the
author is not yet up to tasks of this kind.
The economy in the battle descriptions can be explained
similarly.
In 1 Sam. 4.2, concerning the battle of Ebenezer, it says only
that Israel was defeated by the Philistines and that about 4000
men fell. Concerning the second battle we are told the same,
with the difference that the loss consists of 30,000 men (v. 10),
and with the added comment that they fled, and that the
defeat was very great. This is insufficient for us to form a picture of the battle. 7.11 says only that the Israelites went out of
Mizpah, pursued the Philistines and smote them as far as
below Bethcar. From 11.1 we do learn that the besieged in
Jabesh are having a bad time, but not how the siege is going.
Verse 11: concerning the battle that Saul takes to the Ammonites, it says only that he divides his army into three companies,
invades the camp during the morning watch and smites the
Ammonites until the heat of the day, and that all the survivors
are scattered. 14.12ff. describes in more detail how Jonathan
and the armour-bearer climb up a steep mountain and wipe
out the twenty-man-strong Philistine outpost. But this concerns a piece of fighting by two men. In 14.19ff. it looks as
though we are going to be given a rather more detailed military account. But in fact we still only have general data concerning a tumult and finally the notice that the Israelites pursue the Philistines. 15.7 only says briefly that Saul defeats the
Amalekites. In 17.45ff. we have the detailed description of the
single combat between David and the Philistine.1 31.1: con1. As early as the nineteenth century, the Egyptian Sinuhe gives a
similar description of his fight with a 'strong man of Netenu' (Palestine). He shoots an arrow at the opponent, who then falls on his face.
Then he stabs him with the man's own dagger. Finally, standing on
the man's back he raises the victor's shout. Cf. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte, I, p. 214.
167
cerning the battle of Gilboa, we are told only that the

Philistines fought with the Israelites, that the Israelites fled
and the slain lay on the mountainsthat is, only the end
result. We learn a little more from w. 2 and 3. But there the
information relates to a few persons, Saul and his sons. 2 Sam.
2.17 says of the battle of Gibeon that the fighting was
extremely fierce and that Abner and the Israelites were
beaten. On the other hand, in w. 18ff. we have more details
about the pursuit of Abner by Asahel and the killing of Asahel
by Abner. 5.7 does not even give a hint as to the means
whereby David took the stronghold of Zion, which, to go by v. 6,
must have been extremely strong. 10.13f.: regarding the battle
before the walls of Rabbah it is related only that the Aramaeans first flee from the approaching Joab, and that when
the Ammonites see this, they too flee from Abishai. The preparations, on the other hand, are described in relatively great
detail. The same applies to 11.16f. At the siege of Rabbah Joab
sends Uriah to a spot where there are brave defenders. They
make a sortie, and stage an attack on the approaching forces
during which some men, including Uriah, fall. The fate of an
individual is being depicted. We read the colonel-in-chief's
letter to David in its original version in 23a, 24a(3: 'The men
gained an advantage over us, and came out against us in the
field. Some of the king's servants are dead; and your servant
Uriah the Hittite is dead also.' This, according to v. 18, was 'the
whole course of the fighting5. I do not know whether such a
report would suffice in the twentieth century AD.
12.29 gives the bare fact that Rabbah was taken by David.
From 16.15 it seems as though Absalom enters a Jerusalem
stripped of its defenders wthout striking a blow. Of the battle in
the forest of Ephraim, 18.7f. says only that Absalom's men
were beaten, that it was a great defeat for them, that the
fighting was widely spread, and that the forest devoured more
than the sword. It is impossible to form a picture from this.
Verses 9ff. give a more detailed description of the killing of
Absalom; but there again we are dealing with an individual
person. 20.15: Joab besieges the insurgent Sheba in Abel Bethmaacah. A mound is constructed and an attempt is made to
tear down the city wall. The siege is called off when the
besieged throw the head of the ringleader over the wall (v. 22).
168
Previously (w. 8ff.) the murder of Amasa by Joab (two people!) has been described in great detail. 21.15-22 gives us no
precise data about the four fights with giants either, even
though they are instances of single combat. 23.10: one of
David's heroes strikes the Philistines for such a long time that
his hand sticks to his sword. Verse 12: another successfully
defends a lentil field against the Philistines. 23.16 then reports
a piece of individual heroism, telling how on one occasion three
warriors fight their way through the Philistine camp and
fetch water from the well before Bethlehem.
If the most that can be attempted is the depiction of single
combat, and if on the contrary we really learn nothing at all of
the course of a battle, then this must surely be due to a shortcoming in the narrator's abilities. He is not yet capable of taking in all at once, much less recounting, the great array of
pieces of action that go on in a battle.
In a number of ways we have now pointed out and demonstrated that, despite many imperfections, and despite its great
conciseness and brevity, the narrative in the books of Samuel
still gives a vivid impression. The various means that enable
the author to evoke such effects have also been indicated. In so
doing, we have the impression that he takes the devices at his
disposal for granted, as if he is using them unconsciously. His
artistry must be rated so much the more highly for this.
In conclusion we may assemble a few more cases in which
vividness and suspense are achieved with limited means.
1 Sam. 1.1-8 describes in a few broad strokes the hustle and
bustle of a place of pilgrimage. A man has gone up with his two
wives, one with many children, the other childless. We see
clearly what the relationship is between the individual members of the family. We see how the priest of the pilgrimage
keeps an eye on everything, that he can be tactless on occasion,
but that he is concerned, with some success, to be held in
esteem by the pilgrims. Everything is documented by facts.
2.11-17 shows the other side of the coin, the disgraceful circumstances at the place of pilgrimage that are brought about
by the greed and pleasure-seeking of the priest's sons. 2.19
delightfully relates how at the pilgrimage each year Hannah,
169
the mother, brings her son, who serves in the sanctuary, a new
robeobviously because in the meantime he has 'grown out
of the old one: a splendid, childlike touch in a brief remark. It
is moving to read (14.12-22) how Eli receives the grievous
news and how he and his daughter-in-law die as a result of it.
We see quite clearly the calamity brought about by the Ark in
the land of the Philistines (5.1-12). In chs. 8 and 12 we hear
the moaning of an old man who is about to be compelled to give
up his position and make way for someone younger. 9.1-14
tells us in a few lines of Saul's good looks, his concern for his
father's estate, his kindliness towards the servants and his love
for his father. In 9.22-24 we see how a sacrificial meal is held
and how the guest of honour is treated there, and in 11.5ff.,
how the farmer's son, returning from his peaceful work in the
fields, is led to perform an outstanding deed. 13.7b-15a depicts
Saul's struggle between consideration for the welfare of the
state and obedience towards the prophet. He has waited
painfully for seven days. At last he performs the sacrifice
against Samuel's instructions. No sooner has he begun than
Samuel appears. An almost dramatic effect is provoked. How
graphically Jonathan's bold coup de main is narrated, in 14.614! In 14.32-34 we observe the wild eating of the ravenous
soldiers and Saul's meticulous anxiety over cultic matters. In
14.36-45 we read, almost with bated breath, how the decision
of the oracle is a matter of life and death for Jonathan, and
how the soldiers save their favourite from the pedantically
correct king. The rejection of Saul is vividly and movingly
narrated in 15.10-23. The added verses 24-31 have a similar
effect. In 17.11, suspense is created: The Israelites have heard
the impertinent words of the Philistine and are afraidwhat
is going to happen? And then David's fight with the giant
(17.43ff.)! In 21.14 we see how David successfully 'plays the
madman'. At 23.26 we are bound to ask, 'Will Saul manage to
seize David?'; at 29.2, 'Will David betray his fatherland?'1 The
report of Saul's death given by the messenger in 2 Sam. 1.6-10
is also very vivid. In great suspense, we follow, in 2.18-23, the
1. The suspense remains even when the reader knows from the
start that things turned out well in the end. Cf. Drerup, Das Homerproblem, pp. 463f.
170
struggle between Abner and Asahel; in 3.3Iff., the report of

Abner's funeral; in 4.5-7, the report of the intrusion of the
murderers into the house of peace and sleep. 10.1-4 says a
great deal in a few words: how the friendly relations between
the Israelites and the Ammonites wither away, so that deadly
enmity suddenly ensues, how the young Ammonite king takes
faulty advice and outrageously insults David's envoys. The
UriahBathsheba story (ch. 11) is almost unsurpassable in its
exciting scenes and features. The masterfully constructed
Nathan narrative (12.1-4) is fit to inflame the anger of any
right-thinking person. In 12.15-23 we almost experience the
sickness and death of the child, and David's grief. The whole of
ch. 13 is extremely graphic. One might single out w. 8ff.
how Tamar prepares her brother something to eat; w. llff.
her touching request; v. 15the reversal in the mood of the
dissolute young man; vv. 30ff.how the ever-increasing
rumour about the murder gets through to David. 15.2-5 gives
a splendid depiction of the prince's kindness towards the lowliest of the people. Other masterpieces are the individual
encounters David has during his flight (15.19ff.). We witness
how the two priests' sons bring news to David in spite of great
difficulties (17.17-21), how the two messengers of victory race
against each other (18.19ff.). We tremble for the fate of the
brave Ahimaaz, who may be his own messenger of death.
Could a shorter description have been made than we have in
19.4, of how the conduct of the king influences the morale of
the whole army? And just read the murder of Amasa in 20.810! But in 21.10-14 we have proof that love is stronger than
hatred, in the moving description of Rizpah's motherly love
and David's magnanimity.
In actual fact, however, it is superfluous to refer to individual passages: when one allows the whole book to have its effect,
one has to admit that masterly hands have been at work on it.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bantsch, B., David und sein Zeitalter (Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer, 1907).
Bruce, J., Reise zur Entdeckung der Quellen des Nils (Leipzig: Weidermann,
1790-91); translation of Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile (5 vols.;
Edinburgh: C.G.J. & J. Robinson, 1790).
Budde, K., Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel (Giessen: J. Ricker, 1890).
Die Bucher Samuel (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1902).
Drerup, E., Das Homer-problem in der Gegenwart (Wiirzburg: C.J. Becker,
1921).
Erbt, W., Die Hebraer. Kanaan im Zeitalter der hebraischen Wanderung und
hebraischer Staatenbildungen(Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1906).
Erman, A., Die agyptische Religion (2nd edn; Berlin: G. Reimer, 1909).
Ewald, H., Geschichte des Volkes Israel (8 vols.; 3rd edn; Gottingen:
Dieterich, 1864-68).
Gressmann, H., Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alien Testament (2
vols.; 2nd edn; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1926-27).
Gressmann, H., and A. Ungnad, Das Gilgamesch-Epos (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1911).
Gunkel, H., 'Geschichtsschreibung*, in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart.
'Kunstform der Sagen der Genesis', in H. Gunkel, Genesis (3rd edn; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910), pp. xxviiiff.
Das Marchen im Alien Testament (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck],
1921).
Harari, H., Litte'rature et tradition (Paris: E. Leroux, 1919).
Hirzel, R., Die Strafe der Steinigung (Leipzig: E.G. Teubner, 1909).
Jensen, P., Das Gilgamesch-Epos in der Weltliteratur (2 vols.; Strassburg:
K.J. Triibner, 1906-28).
Konig, E., Stilistik, Rhetorik, Poetik in bezug auf die biblische Litteratur
(Leipzig: Weicher, 1900).
Littmann, E., Arabische Beduinen-Erzahlungen (Strassburg: K.J. Triibner,
1908).
Massierer, K., Methodik des katholischen Religionsunterrichts (1913).
Merz, E., Die Blutrache bei den Israeliten (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1916).
Die Entstehung des Judentums (Halle: M. Niemeyer, 1896).
Meyer, E., Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme (Halle: M. Niemeyer,
1906).
Geschichte des Altertums (2nd edn; Stuttgart & Berlin: J.G. Cotta, 1907).
Meyer, R.M. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte (Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer,
1910).
Norden, E., Vergils Aeneis im Lichte ihrer Zeit (n.p., 1903).

Ottli, S., Geschichte Israels bis auf Alexander den Grossen (2nd edn;
Stuttgart: Calwer, 1925).
172
Olrik, A., 'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung', Zeitschrift fur deutsches

Altertum und deutsche Literatur 51 (1909), pp. 1-12.
Renan, J.E., Histoire du peuple d'Israel (5 vols.; Paris: Calmann LeVy, 189993).
Schmidt, H., Die Geschichtsschreibung im Alien Testament (Tubingen:
J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1911).
Schmidt, H., & P. Kahle, Volkserzdhlungen aus Palastina (2 vols.; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1918).
Schulz, A., Die Backer Samuel (Munster: Aschendorff, 1919-20).
Sievers, E., Metrische Studien, II Samuel metrisch herausgegeben von E.S.,
I. Text (Leipzig: Teubner, 1907).
Stunner, F., Die Rhapsodien der Odyssee (Wiirzburg: C.J. Becker, 1921).
Thenius, O., and M. Lohr, Die Backer Samuels (3rd edn; Leipzig: S. Hirzel,
1898).
Wellhausen, J., Israelitische und jiidische Geschichte (3rd edn; Berlin: G.
Reimer, 1897).
Wendland, P., De fabellis antiquis (Gottingen: Dieterich, 1911).
Wildeboer, G., Die Litteratur des Alien Testament (German edn; Gottingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1895).
Winckler, H., Geschichte Israels in Einzeldarstellungen (2 vols.; Leipzig: E.
Pfeiffer, 1895-1900).
INDEXES
INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES

OLD TESTAMENT
38.1
Genesis
3.2
3.3
110
149
3.11
110
4.1
147
4.2
147
147
4.3-5
12-14
86
147
12.3
26
12.15
14.14
151
14.17
151
14.18
151
15.12
126
126
15.17
164
16.6
151
24.3-8
24.37-41 151
90
26.8
151
27.3
27.4
151
27.7
151
31.24
151
151
31.29
31.44ff. 51
112
32
112
33
35.14
51
36.15
116
36.17
116
36.23
116
37.3
73
89, 92,
38
114-18
38.1-5
114
38.2-5
38.2
112,
114, 115
114
92, 93,
114
38.5
38.6-10
38.11
38.12
38.12b30
38.15
38.21
38.23
41.2ff.
41.17ff.
42.37
43.9
43.34
44.32
46.12
Exodus
6.26
6.27
20-23
21.12ff.
21.14
24.4
32.6
32.17-19
Numbers
26.20
115
27.11
37
114, 116
113
113
93, 115
112-18
89, 92
Deuteronomy
19.4ff. 36
23.17
90
23.18
90
27.22
31
Joshua
89
114
151
151
117
117
47
117
115
7.1
7.26
8.29
15.8
15.9-11
15.60
16.2
18.14
18.16
115
45
45
95
96
96
41
96
95
147
147
10
36
55
51
90
90
Judges
4.17-22
5.4-5
5.20
5.24-27
5.24ff.
7. 9- 10
8.26
104
96
96
104
35
94
25
Leviticus
18.9
31
20.17
31, 34
66, 97
9. 50 ff.
11.3
12.1
28
24
72
174
1 Samuel
1.14. la
122
1-3
1
1. Iff.
1.1-8
1.2ff.
1.2
1.3
1.4-6
1.4
1.7
1.8
1.9
1.10
1.13
1.17
1.18
1.19-28
1.20
1.21
1.22
1.22-23
1.23
17, 18,
147, 164
123, 141
139, 142
168
147
141, 146
129, 136
146
129
159
137, 148,
160
129
159
129, 159
133
155, 160
142
18
127
127
127
127, 136,
160
1.24
136, 142
141
120
164
168
160
142
142
155
168
160
142
158
160
120
142
70
2.1-10
2.2
2.11-17
2.12
2.13
2.14
2.17
2.19
2.20
2.21
2.25
3
3.3
3.8
3.13-14
3.18
3.19
3.28
150, 155
158, 164
160
4. 1- 7. 1 17, 122
151, 155
4.1-11
4.2
4.4
4.5
4.7
166
136
160
160
4.11
155
4.12
129, 160,
162
4. 12ff. 152
4.13
129 , 160
4. 18ff. 155
4.18
129, 160
4.19
160
4.21-22 18
142 , 143,
5
151, 160
5.1-12
169
152
5.3, 4
6.4
145, 157
6.5
157
6.7
148
6.8
148
6.10-11 148
6.11
157
6.13
129
6.18
17
6. 19-20 160
158
6.19
7.1
96
7. 2- 8. 22 19
160
7.8
7.11
166
7.12
51
7.15
163
142
7.16
98, 139,
8
147, 169
141
8.2
8.3
147, 160
8.5
165
8.7-9
150
8.10
150
112
8.11
142
8.13
142
8.14
9-10
18
125
9
9.1-14
9.2
9.3
9.4-10
9.4
9.11-13
9.11
9.12
9.14
9. 15-18a
9.15-17
9.15
9.17
9.18
9.20
9.22-24
9.27
9.34
10.3
10.5
10.8
10.14ff.
10.17ff.
10.17-27
10.23
10.25
10.27
11
11.1
11.4-7
11.4
ll.Sff.
11.6
11.11
12
12.1-25
12.3-5
12.9
12.11
12.18-19
12.19
13
13.2
13.6
13. 7b15a
169
130
133, 139
139
133
139
139
127
127, 128
128
128
120
128
128
142
169
136
160
142
145
145
160
153
19
130
155
165
15, 94,
134, 163
133, 165
166
147
160, 162
169
160
142, 166
137, 169
19
163
142
142
153, 160
157
163
165
145
169

13. 8ff.
13. 8
13. 14
13. 17
13. 22
14
14. 1-14
14. 1-5
14. 4
14. 6-14
14. 6-10
14. 6-7
14. 10
14. 12ff.
14. 12-22
14. 12
14. 19ff.
14. 24
14. 28
14. 29-31
14. 32-35
14. 32-34
14. 32
14. 33
14. 36-45
14. 43
14. 45
14. 47
14. 49
14. 52
15. Iff.
15. 3
15. 7
15. 10-23
15. 11
15. 12
15. 14
15. 18
15. 22-23
15. 24-31
15. 32
15. 33
15. 34
15. 35
16-18
16
16. 1-13
16. Iff.
163
145
16
142
130
147, 163
139, 164
136
17
169
133
94
148
166
169
148
166
148
149
136
125
169
143
17
169
16. 4
16. 6ff.
16. 7
16. 9
16. 12
16. 13
16. 14
16. 15-16
16. 18
16. 19
16. 20
16. 22
17
17-18
17. 1-3
17. 1
17. 4-7
17. 4
17. 5-7
17. 11
164
17. 13
17. 17ff.
17. 17
145, 163
17.23
142
163
165
149
166
169
17. 25
17. 26
17. 27
17. 28f.
17. 30
17. 33ff.
17. 33
17. 34ff.
17. 34-37
17. 37
17. 38-39
17. 39
17. 40
17. 4 Iff.
17. 42
17. 43ff.
17. 45ff.
17. 45-47
17. 45
17. 51
133, 164
160, 163
153
120
149
120
146, 169
160
120
155
163
18
128
18
153
162
17. 55-
143, 151
18.4
18-20
130
32
130
156
158, 165
137
133
133
143
133
147
18
18
18. Iff.
18. 5
18. 6
128, 163
137
133
143
157
145
163
130
19..16
19..17
19.,18ff.
19..20-21
19..23
20.,1-
22
165
130
165
130
93
143
160, 162,
169
143
143
146
150
143, 145
152
150
140
150, 152
153
133
153, 169
166
137
143
156
140
147
143
160, 165
161
120, 143,
145
18. 7
18. 8-9
18. 9
18. 10
18. 12ff.
18. 1213
18. 12
18. 14
18. 15
18. 17
18. 19
18. 20
18. 21
18. 24
18. 25
18. 27
18. 29
18. 30
19
19. 9ff.
19. 9-17
19. 9
19. 11
19.,12ff.
19. 12
19,.14
19..15-
17. 1-
18.5
17. Iff.
175
20.1
21.1
20,.4
20 .6
20 .7
93, 163
161
165
130
147
161
158
158, 163
161, 162
159
133
153
159
150
159
163, 165
161, 162
161
143
18
17
130
133
153, 157
143
134
156
134
137
18
143
152
22
134
116, 149
134
20.12-17 138
176
20.19
20. 23-24
20. 24ff.
20. 24-25
20. 26ff.
143
157
140
143
152
149
20. 29
20. 3 Off. 161
130
20. 33
156
20. 34
20. 35-38 140
20. 40-42 136, 140
143
20. 41
153
21. 2ff.
134
21. 4
21. 6
146
21. 9
131
21. llff. 18
21. 11
120
21. 12
93
21. 13
161
21. 14ff. 157
21. 14
169
22. 1-4
100, 101
22. 6-23 156
22. 6
130
22. 7
47
22. 10
146
22. 13
146
22. 15
100, 101
22. 17
153
22. 30
100, 101
23-24
17, 143,
152
23. 2
149
153, 161
23. 3
149
23. 4
23. 13
156
161, 162
23. 15
27
23. 22
23. 26ff. 157
169
23. 26
23. 28
17, 156
24
147
24,3
131
24. 4-5
158
24. 5
161, 162
24. 7ff.
140
24. 9-15 137
24 .14
24 .16
24 .17ff.
25
25 .3
25 .5-8
25 .5
25 .6-8
25 .9
25 .11
25 .13
25 .14-17
25 .17
25 .18
25 .20
25 .21
25 .24-31
25 .25
25 .29
25 .32-34
25,.35
25 .37
25 .38
25 .39
25 .42
26
26 .6-7
26 .7
26,.llff.
26 .11
26..12
26,.16
26,.17-24
26 .17
26..20
26 .21
26..22
27
27. 1
27.,8
27. 9
27. 10
27. 11
121
130, 161
165
26, 100,
123, 147,
156, 158
131, 146,
161
150
146
137
150
143
134, 136,
161
137
134
143, 165
127
159
137
18
121
138
134
134
146
159
145
17, 147
94, 140
131
158
131
131
131
137
130, 140
121
165
131, 134
100, 101,
147, 163
159
143
145
143
159
27.12
28
28 .1
28 .3
28 .5
28 .6
28,.8
28..9
28,.11
28..12
28,.13
28..15ff.
28,.15
28..20
158
17, 48
165
128
161
143, 149
141
153
136
161
51
140
149
156, 161,
162
28..21-25 156
28,.23
153
29
100, 101,
163
29..2
169
29,.3
149
93, 120
29.5
149
29 .6
153
29..8
121
29. 9
134
29..10
134
29. 11
100, 156
30
30. 1
143
30..3
143
161, 162
30.,4
143
30..12
30. 13
143
143
30.,14
134, 153
30. 15
143
30.,16
31
156
144
31.,lff.
166
31. 1
164, 167
31. 2
167
31. 3
31. 4
153, 161,
163
31. llff. 134
31. 13
145
2 Samuel
1- 8
123
22
1.2
129, 144,
1.4
1.6-10
1.12
1.13-16
1. 17ff.
1.19-27
1.21ff.
160
152
169
128
128
93
120, 131
163
147, 156,
2.4
2.5
165
165
15
2. 8- 3. 1
2.8-9
2. lOa
2.11
2.13
2.14-16
2.15
2.16
2.16-17
2.17
2. 18 ff.
2.18-23
2.18
2.22
2.23
107, 108
164
107
107
107
107, 108
144
17, 48,
108, 134
107
167
167
107, 169
120, 132,
144
107
108, 131,
3.12-16
3.12
3.13
3.14
3.15
3.16
3. 17ff.
3.17
3.22
3.24-25
3.24
3.25
3.27
108
165
108
108
108, 164
161
164
108
132
165
107
107
93, 120
8.9
156
8.10
8.11
8.12
8.13
8.14
8.16-18
49, 132
108
141
170
132
164
156
167
167
161
144
10
93
6.2
6.3
6.5
6.8
96
141
145
3.8
165
55, 128,
134
121, 146
3.11
108, 161,
6.9-10
6.10
161
126, 132
108, 147,
132
148
3.1
146, 166
3. 2ff .
3.2-5
144
3.2-3
3.6-39
3. 7f f .
31
3.7
10, 93,
107, 144
164
163
10
94
94
94
24
24
94
94
94
107, 108
2.24
2.26ff.
8.1-15
8.1-6
8. 7- 12
8.7-10
5. 13ff.
5.13-16
5.13-15
5.17-25 95, 96
5.17-21 17
5.19
96
17, 116
5.20
5.22-25 96
96
5.23
5.24
96
17, 122
6
141
95, 98,
107, 141
4. 2ff .
4.5-7
5.6
5.7
5.8
7.2
8
170
162
161
52, 107,
161, 162
4.12
161
144
148
161
122
122
95, 96
4.1
4.6
4.7
6.16
6.19
6.20
6.21
7-12
8.1
8.2
8.3
8.5
8.6
131
3.30
3.31ff.
3.31-32
3.32, 34
3.33-34
3. 35 ff.
3.39
4.1-12
111
96, 116
93, 153
8.18
8.20
8.23-26
144
97
97
25, 94,
95, 158
94, 158
10, 52,
93, 144
40
93
93
9-1
Kgs 2
9-20
59
9
9.3
140
132
132
9.13
10-12
10
10.112.31
10.111.1
10.1-5
10.1-4
10.1
10.2
10.3
10.4
10.6-14
65, 123
94, 97
95, 97
23-31
23-25
23, 98
170
146
146, 162
135
158
24
178
10.6
10.13-14
10.15-19
10.16
10.19
11
97
167
24
97
24
23, 70,
125, 138,
144, 148,
170
11.1
25, 95,
97, 125
26-29
26, 135
132
39
27
158
103
152
152
27
28
167
138, 167
138
167
152, 167
11.2-27a
11.2-4
11.2
11.3
11.5-13
11.6ff.
11.6-13
11.7ff.
11.13
11.14-25
11.15
11.16-17
11.18
11.19-21
11.23
11.24
11.2627a
28
11.27
29, 156,
158, 159
11.27b12.25 29-31
12
106, 125
12.1-14 102
12.1-4
170
12.1-2
103
12.5
153, 162
12.6
136
12.8
55
12.1 Off. 35
12.10
30
12.11-12 30
12.15-23 30, 170
12.16
162
12.18
44, 145
12.24-25 31
12.24
29, 156
12.25
12.26-31
12.26-27
12.29
12.31
13-20
54
25, 97
95
167
156
60, 66,
13-19
13-15
13-14
107-12
122
65, 73,
108, 111
123
13.114.33
13
31-37
63, 64,
70, 73,
108, 148,
170
13.1-24 140
13.1-22 31-33,
13.25
13.28
13.29
13.30-38
13.30ff.
13.30
13.31-32
13.31
13.32
13.33
13.34ff.
13.34
13.36
13.37
13.38
13.3914.33
13.39
14
14.2
34
162
29, 63,
73, 106,
108, 111,
124, 138,
140, 148
48, 137,
14.3
14.7
14.14
14.15
14.17
14.20
14.21
14.24
14.25ff.
14.25-28
14.25-27
14.25-26
14.25
14.26
14.27
14.28
14.29ff.
151
121
121
36
36, 121
121
64
61, 154
132
132
34, 61
61
59, 62
59, 60
52, 59-63
61
144, 152,
124
13.1-5
13.1
31, 32
65, 73,
124, 132,
13.2
13.3
13.5
13.6-10
13.6
13. 7b15a
13.8ff.
13.1 Iff.
13.11-17
13.11
13.12-13
13.14
13.15
162
162
149
32
149
13.20
13.22
13.23-39
13.23-27
13.23
73
135, 156
124
33
61, 142
165
122
170
170
32, 33
64
154
15
64, 108,
165, 170
13.16
162
13.18-22 33
13.19
64, 144,
162
64, 154
33
33, 135
34
170
64
148
64, 162
159
63
136
33
64, 162
60, 162
60, 144
162
154
14.29-30 111
14. 3 Off. 158
14.30
64, 72,
135

14.33
15ff.
15-20
15.120.22
15-19
15-16
15
15. Iff.
15.1-12
15.1-6
15.1
15.2ff.
15.2-5
15.2
15.3
15.6
15.7
15.9
15.10
15.11
15.1317.29
15.1317a
15.13
64, 79,
124, 156
63
59-88
38-52
108, 125
73
63, 148
63
38-40
70, 73,
165
63, 65,
73
69
170
77
70, 135
70
61, 63,
70, 73,
145
70
111, 166
68, 70,
111
38, 40-44
38, 40
64, 69,
86
15.14
68
15.15ff. 70
70, 78,
15.15
136
15.17-25 93
15.17b23
38, 40,
41
40
15.18
15.19ff. 170
15.19
70, 82
15
15.20
15.21
70, 71
15.23ff. 60
70, 162
15.23
15. 23b29
15. 24ff.
15. 25
15. 27ff.
15. 27
15. 30-37
15. 30
15. 32
15. 34
15. 37-38
15. 37
15. 37b
16-31
16
16. Iff.
16. 1-4
16. 1
16. 2ff.
16. 2
16.A
16. 5ff.
16. 5-14
16. 5-12
16. 5
16. 5b-13
16.,7ff.
16..7
16. 8
16.,9ff.
16.,9
16. 10-12
16..10
16..13-14
16..14
16,.15-19
16 .15
16 ,16ff.
16 .16
16 .17
16 .18-19
16 .19
38, 41
60, 141
41, 70
55
70, 141
38, 41,
42
162
64, 70,
129, 162
135, 150
85
43
126
122
148
47
38, 42
144
70
70, 144
71
47, 53,
56, 70
38, 42
140
126
126
72
120
99, 120
70
70, 71,
121
110
141
85
42, 70,
126, 157
38, 42,
43
111, 126
78
150
150
150
135
179
16. 20ff.
16..20-23
16. 21
16. 22
16. 23
17
17. 1-14
17. 1-3
17. 3
17. 4
17. 5ff.
17. 5-13
17. 6
17. 7-13
17. 8-13
17.,8
17. 10
17. 13
17. 14
17. 15-22
17. 15
17. 16
17.,17ff.
17. 17-21
17..17
17..18ff.
17..21
17..22
17..23-26
17,.23
17 .24
17 .25
17 ,27ff.
17 .27-29
17 .27
17 .29
18
55
38, 43
135, 159
30, 64,
70
61, 158,
159
75
38, 43,
78
138
60, 78
111
158
138
78, 150
72
121
72, 78
72
72, 78
61, 111,
128, 159
38, 43,
44
69, 77,
111, 141,
150
70, 126,
150
55
170
41, 141
154
64, 69,
150 , 151
73, 74,
86
38, 44
61, 73,
74, 157
74, 126
77
53
38, 44
144
64, 144
60, 148
180
18 .1-
19.9a
18 .l-6a
18 .2-3
18 .2
18 .3
18 .4-5
18 .5
18 .6b18
18 .7-8
18 .9ff.
18 .9
18 .10-14
18 .10
18 . 1 Iff.
18 .11
18 .12ff.
18 .12-13
18 .12
18 .14
18 .15
18 .16-17
18 .16
18 .17
18 .18
18 .19ff.
18 .19-32
18 .19-23
18 .19-21
18 .19
18 .20
18 .21
18 .22
18,.24-
19.1
38, 44-46
38, 44
163
142, 144
70, 74,
77
70
64, 150,
162
38, 44,
45
167
167
75
75, 78
75
75
71, 146
60
70
150
75, 135,
144
146
157
111
60, 111
17, 34,
51, 52,
60, 61,
63, 70,
76, 128
170
71
38, 45
70, 141
141
154
68
71
38, 45,
46
18,.24-28 71
18,.25
70
18,,27ff. 78
18,.27
18 .28
18 .29
18 .31-32
18 .32
19
19 ,1
19,,2-9a
19 .2
19 .3
19 .4
19 .5-6
19 .6ff.
19 .6
19 .9-20
19 .9
19 ,9b41
19 ,9b16
19. 9b
19 .lOff.
19 .10-11
19 .10
19 .12b
19 .14
19 .17ff.
19 .17-24
19 .17
19 .20-22
19 .21
19 .22-23
19 .22
19 .24-26
19 .24
19 .25-31
19 .25
19..26
19..27-29
19..28
19. 29
19..30
19..31
135
70
78, 154
70
75, 141
15, 60,
69
64, 72,
162
38, 46
64
70
170
70
50
147
70
111
38, 46-48
38, 46,
47
60
75, 81
166
60
60
48
53, 56
38, 47,
140
78, 109
70
141
141
141
70
132 , 141,
144
38, 47
147
128
70
121
79
70
70, 128
19.,32ff.
19..32-41
19..32-39
19..32-35
19..34-37
19..35-38
19..36
19..39-44
19..4 Iff.
19..42-
53
38, 47
79
70
138
70
64
70
158
20.22
38, 47,
48
19,.42-
20.2
38, 47
75, 77,
81
69, 76,
20
123, 125:
129
81, 166
20..Iff.
20..1
93, 101,
120
101
20,.2
38, 48
20.3-7
20..3b
61
20..4
70
141
20..6
20..7
40, 141
154 , 168
20 ,8ff.
20..8-13 38, 48,
101, 108
20..8-12 76
20..8-10 170
17
20.,8
131
20..9
52, 131,
20..10
141
20..12
108
20..13
101
20. 14-22 38, 48
20..15-16 60
20. 15
167
137
20. 16
20. 19
17
20. 21-22 70
20. 22
76, 157,
167
19..42ff.

20.23-26 10, 52,
93
20.23-25 144
40, 101
20.23
20.28-29 60
21-24
59
21
108, 148
21. Iff. 42
145
21.1
21.2-14 99, 123
154
21.4
136
21.7
142
21.8
135
21.9
21.10-14 170
100, 135,
21.10
162
100
21.14
21.15-22 18, 93,
145, 168
22
23. Iff.
23.1-7
23.8-39
23.8-23
23.8-12
23.8
23.10
23.12
23.13-17
23.13
23.16
23.18-23
23.20
23.24-39
23.24-38
23.24
23.34
120
93
120
93
18
93, 94
145
159, 168
159, 168
93, 94
145
168
93, 94
120
93
10
145
39
24
17, 123
24.3
24.10
24.11
24.12
24.13
154
161, 162
128
128
145
1 Kings
1-2
1.1-
15
2.46
1.1-53
1.1-4
1.5-10
1.5
52-58
53-55
53
53, 54
39, 53,
57
1.8
56, 102
1.11-14
1.15-40
1.23
1.24
1.29
1.34
1.38
1.41-49
1.44
1.45
1.47
1.50-53
2.1-12
2. 10-46
2. 10-25
2.15
2.26-27
2.26
2.28-35
2.31b-
54
33
52
13
14
17, 18
14.21
14.24
14.27
15.2
15.8
15.10
15.12
17-18
18
62
90
39
34, 62
55
18.19
20.40
21.10
40, 102
22
102
53
55
52
22.46
2 Kings
2.19-22
4.8-37
6.24-20
8.1-6
9-11
9-10
11.1-20
12.1-17
16.10-18
17.10
22-23
23.7
23. 7b
17
18
119
18
15
15
11
11
11
51
11
90
91
102
102
110
102
40, 102
55, 56
55, 56
57
56
70
56
52
52
18
23
52
11
25
7.9
7.21
51
9.10-28 10
10.1-13 18
10.11-29 10
11.14-43 22
11.29ff. 18
55
12.8
5.9-14
5.15
5.28
6. 1- 7. 50
12.18
63
63
90
18
17
47
29
28
18
90
54, 55
2.36-46 53, 56
2.44-45 52
53
2.45
147
3.12
3. 16-28 18
3.16-17 106
147
3.23
4.6
181
18
1 Chronicles
2.26
116
2.28
116
144
3. 5f f .
4.22
116
14.4ff.
144
18.16
52
18.17
40
164
19.6
Ezra
2
2.59
115
115
182
Nehemiah
7
115
115
7.61
Psalms
1.3
73.22
164
164
Esther
2.33
5.6
6.1
6.9
6.11
6.13
7.2
Isaiah
5
20.4
28.21
29
24
116
Ezekiel
22.11
31
9
151
9
151
151
147
151
NEW TESTAMENT
Matthew
27.3ff.
74
1 Corinthians
13.1
147
13.4
147
Hosea
2.12
4.13
4.14
9.1
91
90, 92
90, 92
90
Amos
1.1
2.7
10
90
Micah
1.7
INDEX OF AUTHORS
Bantsch, B. 73
Bruce, J. 45
Budde, K. 59, 60, 87, 95, 102
Meyer, E. 26, 71, 86, 87, 97,

112, 115
Meyer, R.M. 2 6
Drerup.E. 127, 137, 169
Niebuhr, C. 70, 87
Norden, E. 145
Erbt,W.70, 81
Ermon, A. 3 0
Ewald, H. 66
Gressmann, H. 9, 30, 151, 166
Gressmann, H. and A. Ungnad
127
Gunkel, H. 28, 119, 120, 129,
139, 164
Ottli, S. 63
Olrik, A. 119, 125, 127, 139,
141, 142, 145, 154, 159
Renan, R.E. 66, 73, 81
Jensen, P. 73, 81, 83
Schmidt, H. and P. Kahle 135,

162, 163
Schulz, A. 119, 121-23, 136,
145, 152, 164
Sievers, E. 6 7, 69, 120
Sturmer, F. 129, 145
Konig, E. 134, 145
Thenius, O. and M. Lohr 59
Littmann, E. 4 5
Luther, B. 71-73, 81, 82
Wellhausen, J. 7 9
Wendland, P. 32
Wildeboer, G. 69
Winckler, H. 76, 83
Hirzel, R. 45
Massierer, K. 133
Merz, E. 3 7

Edited by David M. Gunn, Translated by David E. Orton Narrative and Novella in Samuel Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 JSOT Supplement 1991 PDF

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Edited by David M. Gunn, Translated by David E. Orton Narrative and Novella in Samuel Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 JSOT Supplement 1991 PDF

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JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT

HISTORIC TEXTS AND INTERPRETERS

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Translated by David E. Orton

Translation has been made from the following sources:

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Narrative and Novella in Samuel

compositional feature of Samuel. But he, like all these critics,

THE OLDEST HISTORY WRITING IN ISRAEL

a. In the books of Kings, the reign of each king is concluded

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

comes the information about David's family (2 Sam. 3.2-5;

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

to that of the king of Judah (or vice versa), as is consistently

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

Whoever wants to understand Israelite historical writing in

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

among the saga-narrators, learning their technique, which is

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

In the long term a historical narrative can only be protected

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

the (already old) sagas of ancient times up to the conquest of

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

does the legend cycle of Samuel (1 Sam. 7.2-8.22; 10.17-27;

Prophecy lent new impetus to history writing. Amos already

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

places with the exception of the Jerusalem temple. This Book

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the Deuteronomistic redaction belong also the concurrent

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

stumbles and falls. In Deuteronomic reflection, as in prophetic

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and by their constant repetitions of self-evident names and

The War with the Ammonites (10.1-11.1)

The War with the Ammonites

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

envoys. The oriental man is particularly proud of his beard;

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

information that David had set up overseers1 in Damascus

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

David and Bathsheba (11.2-27a)

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intrigue does not begin until the consequences of the adultery

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

known example of Jerubbaal (Judg. 9.50ff.). This consolation is

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

there had been no reason to do so. In his own lifetime David

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

king's sin, and an appropriate threat was placed on the

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

tivate the narrator's attentionthe king in his despair is even

The Rape of Tamar by Amnon (13.1-22)

Part I (13.1-22) reports Amnon's wicked deed against his

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

well protected. It seems that princesses were subject to a

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simple but effective means of depicting the troubled spirit of a

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

the wicked deed is atoned for, since in the Israelite view

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