We have mentioned that Galba had succeeded to the throne of the Roman empire, in the room of the tyrant Nero; and that Vespasian prudently abstained from taking any active measures in Judea, lest he should weaken his forces, but kept them together in readiness for any enterprise that might seem calculated to promote his ambitious views, and hasten the accomplishment of the prophecy that had been pronounced by his Jewish captive, Josephus. Had all the inhabitants of Jerusalem and the neighbouring country improved this season of rest and respite from foreign war, their city might have been better prepared to receive the assaults of the Roman army when at length the siege was determined on; or, better still, they might, by a timely submission, have appeased the anger of the new emperor, whose attention was greatly occupied by the unsettled state of affairs in the regions nearer to the capital of the empire.
But no such salutary and prudent steps were taken by these misguided and rebellious people, who only turned the arms that were no longer exerted against a foreign enemy, with greater animosity against each other. Simon the son of Gioras, the bloody and vindictive Simon, added a third party to those which already distracted the metropolis. This scourge of his country might rival even John of Gischala in cruelty and ferocity, but he was not a match for him in cunning. He had been conspicuous in the rout of Cestius' army, which had occurred at the beginning of the war and since that period he had carried on a course of pillage and violence. He had been expelled from Acrabatana by Ananus, and entering Masada, he had succeeded in making himself master of the town. His party had gradually augmented; and having traversed the region of Idumea with his fierce and victorious band, he at length turned his eyes towards Jerusalem, and began to entertain hopes that he might vanquish the two parties that already contended for the superiority within her walls, and himself become the leader and the chief of all.
When his approach was known in the city, a considerable body of the Zealots sallied forth to oppose him, but they could not stand against his forces, and were driven back again with discomfiture and loss. Simon did not, however, venture to attack the city immediately; but apprehensive of his own strength, he resolved on returning to subdue Idumea before he commenced that enterprise. He therefore placed himself at the head of twenty thousand men, and hastened back to the frontier. The Idumeans speedily assembled to the number of twenty-five thousand and leaving the rest of their forces to guard their families and possessions from the incursions of the robbers from Masada, they met Simon on the borders of their territory, where a long and doubtful contest was maintained the whole day. It is hard to say which party should be called the victors, for Simon retreated to the village of Nam, which he had previously fortified and put in a state of defence, and the Idumeans retired to their own country. But Simon shortly afterwards made another incursion upon them with a still more powerful army, and having pitched his camp before Tekoa, he dispatched one of his associates, named Eleazar, to persuade the garrison of the neighbouring fortress of Herodium to surrender to him. The garrison were so indignant at the proposition that they attacked Eleazar with their drawn swords, and he was obliged to leap from the wall into the deep ditch that surrounded it, where he died on the spot.
The Idumeans dreaded the power and the vengeance of Simon, and they determined, if possible, to ascertain the strength of his army before they again met him in battle; and one of their princes, named Jacob, offered to accomplish this object. But he was a traitor, and only sought the opportunity of betraying his country into the hands of her enemy. He went from Colures, which was the head-quarters of the Idumeans, to the camp of Simon, and immediately made an agreement to assist him in reducing the whole country to his subjection, on condition that he himself should be well treated, and rewarded with riches and honours. To these terms Simon promised a ready compliance, and having regaled him with a grand entertainment, he dismissed him with extraordinary courtesy. Jacob was elated with the prospects which he saw before him; and on returning to his countrymen, he endeavoured to alarm them by a false account of the forces of Simon, describing them as much more numerous than they really were. He afterwards tried various arts and persuasions with the princes and the chief men, separately, to induce them to lay down their arms, and receive Simon as their governor; and while he was thus treacherously endeavouring to weaken the courage and corrupt the fidelity of his countrymen, he secretly sent to Simon, desiring him to commence the attack, and promising that he would disperse the Idumeans. To effect this, as soon as the enemy approached, he mounted his horse and pretended to take flight, followed by those whom he had already made his accomplices; and the rest of the army, being seized with a panic, left their ranks and fled away towards their homes.
Thus, almost without bloodshed, Simon entered the country, took the ancient city of Hebron, and wasted all the neighbourhood. Marching from thence, he ravaged the whole land of Idumea, and carried off all the provisions and cattle of the wretched inhabitants. His army had increased to such a multitude from the number of irregular troops who followed him, that the country could not furnish necessaries for them; and the consequent distress of the peasantry, added to the cruelty of Simon, made them groan beneath the weight of their accumulated misfortunes. Simon's army carried desolation wherever they turned: they burned some places, and pulled down others; seized and destroyed whatever fell into their hands, and trampled under-foot every species of vegetation, so that the land became a desert, and appeared as if it had never been cultivated. These proceedings against their former allies added fury to the resentment of the Zealots, and yet they dared not meet the destroyer in open battle; but having placed ambuscades along the road, by which they were informed the wife of Simon was to pass, they succeeded in carrying her off a captive to Jerusalem, with several of her attendants. They hoped by these means to bring Simon to terms, for they knew that the loss of his wife would distract him; and therefore they expected that in order to obtain her release he would bind himself by an agreement that they might dictate. But the feelings of Simon were not to be acted upon in the manner which they anticipated: instead of approaching their walls a humble suppliant for the restoration of his wife, he came raging like a wounded beast of prey. All who ventured to set their foot outside the gates, to gather olives in the gardens or bring in other necessaries, were seized by his watchful emissaries, and brought to their savage master, who put them to death, without distinction of age or sex, after inflicting on them unparalleled torments. He is said to have been hardly restrained from tearing their flesh with his teeth, so ungovernable was his fury and vengeance. Some of his victims he spared from death only to inflict on them a worse punishment; for he cut off both their hands, and in this mutilated condition sent them back into the city, with orders to tell the leaders, that Simon had sworn by the Almighty, that if they did not immediately restore his wife to him, he would break through their walls, and treat in the same barbarous manner all who were within the city, without any distinction. This dreadful threat alarmed the people, and even the Zealots. In hope of appeasing their furious enemy, they sent out his wife to him, on which he laid aside his intention of an immediate slaughter, and withdrew his army from the walls.
During the preparations for his departure, a party of his sentinels brought into the camp a young Jew, whom they had discovered lurking among the neighbouring hills, and apparently watching their motions with great anxiety. He fled at their approach, but they pursued and caught him, and now conducted him into the presence of Simon as a spy. The young man had a bold and crafty countenance; and his appearance bespoke that he had endured much hardship and fatigue; but he almost trembled at the fierce aspect of the son of Gioras, whose character was doubtless well known to him. Simon sternly demanded who he was, and what had brought him so near his camp; and believing that deceit could not, in this instance, be of any advantage to him, Javan (for it was him) replied:—
"I am the son of Zadok the priest, and have long been a captive in the hands of the Romans. With danger and difficulty I escaped from them, when they were encamped on the shores of the Dead Sea. For months I have wandered among the mountains and the deserts, seeking vainly to find an opportunity of returning to my native city, and rouse my countrymen to a fiercer opposition against my hated captors. The approach of Vespasian so near the walls of Jerusalem long deterred me from the attempt to gain entrance, as I dreaded falling into the hands of any of his skirmishing parties; and though I burned to find myself upon the battlements of Zion, and to cast defiance at the infidels from her proud bulwarks, yet I was forced to loiter away my time in restless inactivity. When Vespasian withdrew his forces from the neighbourhood, I again approached my native district, but was again disappointed in my object, by finding that your valiant troops were contending with those ruffian Zealots. The succeeding war in Idumea prevented me from passing through that country, until you left it to seek vengeance for the insult offered to you by John of Gischala and his robber band. Then I entered Judea by a secret path through the mountains, and was anxiously watching for a moment of security, that I might present myself before the gates of the city and join her brave defenders, when I fell into the hands of your brave men."
Simon was satisfied that the prisoner was not deceiving him, and he replied,—
"Why then did you not boldly come to me, and join the ranks of my patriotic followers? You might have known that the welfare of Jerusalem is my only object; and that I seek to rid her of her present oppressors, that I may establish again the rules of order and good government, and restore the neglected worship of the temple to its former holiness and magnificence. My righteous efforts will doubtless be blessed with success, and the God of battles will put to rebuke those miscreants who now so audaciously trample on his holy sanctuary and despise his laws."
"Most noble Simon," replied the wily Javan, "your holy zeal finds an echo in my breast. Had I known the object of your enterprise, I should long ere this have hastened to enroll myself under your victorious banner, and have rejoiced to lend my aid to so meritorious a purpose. I am now ready to take an oath of fidelity to you and your cause; and, by the blessing of the Almighty, we shall soon triumph over the Zealots, and restore the city of the Great King to prosperity and peace."
Thus spoke Javan, partly actuated by a politic regard to his own safety, and partly prompted by his fanatical zeal and pride. He hoped that Simon's party might gain the ascendancy, if they once obtained a footing in the city; and he knew enough of their leader to be convinced that he would forward to the utmost all his own schemes and projects, for what he called the honour of God—by which he meant, the oppression and destruction of all who differed from the proud, self-righteous sect to which he belonged. He believed that in so doing he should promote the cause of religion, and strengthen the party of those whom he considered as the only true children of Abraham. He therefore made up his mind to attach himself to Simon, and, if possible, to gain his confidence, and penetrate all his schemes. Should they succeed, he would enter Jerusalem as his follower; but if he failed in opening her gates, either by force or by subtlety, Javan depended on his own cunning to make his escape from his adopted leader, and unite himself to whichever party he should find the most congenial to his own bigoted feelings, when he had succeeded in obtaining an entrance into the city.
A compact was soon entered into between these two crafty men, who both affected to conceal their own cruel and ambitious views under the disguise of zeal for religion. In this profession Javan was more sincere than Simon; he had devoted a great part of his early life to the study of the sacred writings, and still more sacred traditions, so profoundly reverenced by his sect; and for the honour of these voluminous and erudite productions, and the observance of the wearisome regulations which they enjoined, he held it to be his duty to consecrate his time and his strength, and even to abandon every tie of natural affection that might interfere with the views which he entertained. But with the son of Gioras, ambition and revenge were the darling objects; and religion was little more than a cloak, under which to exercise every violence and every cruelty that was dictated by his own evil heart. He once more resolved to defer his intended attack upon Jerusalem, and wait until the forces within the city had wasted yet more of their strength in civil contests; and also until he had further augmented his own army. He therefore retired again into Idumea, where for a considerable time he continued his former system of pillage and oppression.
The suspension of hostilities on the part of the Romans, and the departure of Simon, encouraged some of the Christians at Pella to forsake for a little time their place of refuge, and to return to Jerusalem, either to secure some of their effects which had been neglected at the time of their retreat, or to see again those members of their families who, though separated from them in faith and in hope, were yet united to them by the bonds of affection. Among those who thus visited the holy city at this time were Amaziah and Judith. They had come to the resolution of finally abandoning their devoted and rebellious country, and retiring to Ephesus with their son, who had hitherto remained in Jerusalem. They knew that they should there find a numerous and increasing church of Christians, and that the venerable apostle John then dwelt there, and watched over the spiritual welfare of his beloved brethren in Christ, with all the affection and all the zeal that glowed in his devoted heart. To enjoy the privilege of his presence and his instruction was one great motive that induced Amaziah and his wife to select Ephesus as the place of their retreat; and they also possessed friends and connexions among the believers established there. Before they undertook so long a journey, they wished to see and to bid farewell to their relations in Jerusalem; and they likewise intended to make an effort for the preservation of their dear Naomi, by endeavouring to persuade her parents to allow her to accompany them, and remain under their protection, until Judea should again be restored to tranquillity. Such a result of the war they did not themselves anticipate; for they looked confidently for the fulfilment of the denunciations of wrath pronounced against their countrymen by the Lord Jesus; and they feared that if Naomi remained in the city, she would share the fate of its obstinate inhabitants. Oh how gladly would they have persuaded Zadok and Salome also to be the companions of their exile! But that they knew to be a fruitless wish, so long as they despised the name of the Redeemer, and disbelieved alike his threatenings and his promises.
They found their niece unshaken in her faith, and fully resolved to hold fast to the religion which she had so boldly professed, in spite of all the sorrow which that profession had brought upon her. It is true that the influence of her kind and affectionate mother had preserved her from any severe manifestations of her father's wrath; but all the domestic comfort and happiness which she had so long enjoyed was gone. Zadok no longer regarded her with affection and pride, and no longer delighted in conversing with her, and instructing her in all the learning for which he was himself so celebrated. As much as possible he avoided seeing her, and when they met, his countenance expressed such deep grief and such repressed anger, that Naomi shrunk from his presence, and in her own apartment shed many bitter tears of sorrow, but not of weakness or indecision. The severest trial she had to undergo was when at stated periods she was summoned to attend her father and rabbi Joazer, to whom the secret of her apostasy had been confided, and in whose learned arguments her parents placed their only hope of her restoration to the true faith.
Rabbi Joazer spared neither time nor pains to accomplish this desired object; but all his tedious harangues, and all his copious appeals to the rabbinical writings and the traditions of the elders, only served to show to Naomi more plainly the folly and absurdity of exalting these human inventions above the word of God, and made her feel more devotedly attached to the faith she had adopted, and which she knew to be verified by Scripture, and founded on divine revelation. With humility, and yet with firmness, she replied to the assertions of the rabbi; and quoted the words of the prophets to prove that Jesus was indeed the Christ. Joazer would not listen to her; he only overwhelmed and silenced her, by long and rapid quotations from the cumbrous volumes on which he rested his creed; and at length dismissed her with anger and impatience to her chamber again.
Claudia was her constant companion, and her greatest earthly solace. She sympathised in the afflictions of her friend, and listened with an interest that daily increased, to the detail of all that she had seen and heard at Pella, and all the affecting narratives that had at first attracted Naomi's own attention, and excited her own curiosity, and led to her own adoption of the faith of Christ. The heart of Claudia was touched, and it was evident that the work of the Spirit had commenced within her, though it advanced but slowly, and she did not, as it were, grasp and comprehend the doctrines that were presented to her, with the rapidity that had characterized Naomi's conversion. Her less energetic disposition was alarmed at the wonder and the novelty of the religion that was proposed to her belief; and though in the mythology which she had been taught in her childhood, there were many pretended instances of the heathen divinities dwelling with men upon the earth, yet the history of Jesus Christ, God manifest in the flesh, was altogether so different from these idle tales, and the miracles which glorified his earthly life were so astonishing and so awakening, that Claudia paused before she could give full credence to all that her friend related to her.
Salome had repeated to her husband the substance of the interesting discourse of Amaziah on the night of Naomi's return; and Zadok saw plainly that an impression had been made on her mind, which he was very anxious to obliterate. He therefore strictly enjoined her never to renew the conversation with his daughter, on the plea that it would only strengthen Naomi's unhappy belief if she was called on to defend it; but his real object was to preserve his wife from the contamination of her obnoxious doctrines. He also took every opportunity of repeating to Salome his strongest arguments against Christianity, and all the popular slanders that were circulated against its Founder, and his immediate followers. By these means he succeeded in silencing the voice of conviction that was beginning to make itself heard in her breast; and the seed of the Spirit lay dormant beneath the weight of ancient prejudice, and mistaken reverence for the opinion of her intelligent and upright husband.
Things were in this state when Amaziah and Judith returned to Jerusalem. The house in which they had formerly dwelt when resident in the city, had been pillaged and destroyed during the recent scenes of anarchy and confusion; but Amaziah was a man of wealth, and had secured sufficient property in gold and jewels to provide for the maintenance of himself and his family, besides allowing him to indulge in the benevolent pleasure of ministering largely to the support and comfort of his poorer brethren. Zadok, somewhat unwillingly, invited him to reside, during the short period that he intended to remain in Jerusalem, in a portion of his own spacious dwelling; but he never ate at the same table with his brother or his family, and he allowed as little intercourse as possible between the members of his own household and the Nazarene inmates of his house.
The comparative state of security to which Jerusalem and its vicinity were restored, by the inactivity of the Romans, also induced the aged Mary to return to her beloved home at Bethany, under the protection of Amaziah, who left her in her secluded dwelling, before he and his well-armed party descended the Mount of Olives and entered the city. Naomi could not rest when she found that her venerable friend was again at Bethany without seeking the first opportunity of going to visit her; and as she was allowed to walk out under the guardianship of the indulgent Deborah, she succeeded several times in inducing her to extend their rambles to the village, and permit her to rest awhile in Mary's cottage. The old nurse knew that Naomi was under the displeasure of her father, and as she was present on the evening when the disclosure of her sentiments took place, she was well aware of the cause of Zadok's anger, and therefore she could not imagine that his daughter's visits to the aged disciple of Jesus would be approved of by him. Nevertheless she could not deny her dear young mistress in anything, and by her means Naomi enjoyed much delightful conversation with her friend. Perhaps the young and ardent convert would have been more strictly in the path of duty if she had not thus acted in opposition to the wishes of her parents; but we are only describing a human character, liable to sins and errors, and not a model of perfection, such as the world has never seen but once. Naomi believed that she could not be wrong in seeking the society of her to whom she owed the knowledge of salvation, and endeavouring to obtain from her instructions fresh knowledge and fresh strength, to support her in any coming trials or sufferings. The increasing infirmities of her beloved teacher also acted as a strong stimulus to her to seize every opportunity of visiting her, not only that she might benefit by her discourse as much as possible, but also that she might cheer her solitude, and minister to her wants, and, as far as lay in her power, render her latter days easy and comfortable.
Claudia always accompanied her friend on these expeditions; and the words of the venerable and evidently declining saint powerfully strengthened the impression which had already been made on her mind. The sacred peace and joy that shone in the countenance of Mary, riveted her attention and commanded her respect; while the kindness and benignity of her manner, her zeal for the spiritual welfare of her young pupils, and her tender indulgence for their faults and backslidings, won her warmest affection.
Judith and Amaziah also made frequent visits to the dwelling of Mary; and by their care, a poor Christian woman was discovered in the village, and engaged to attend upon her, and provide for her comfort. Hannah was a humble but most devoted disciple, and she joyfully undertook to watch the declining days of one so holy and so privileged as Mary of Bethany. Her own poverty had prevented her from retiring to Pella at the commencement of the war, and the entire seclusion in which she lived, had caused her to be overlooked by those who would willingly have assisted her; and she now rejoiced that she had been appointed to remain in danger and distress, since it was her lot at length to share the dwelling, and listen to the discourse, of her who had sat at the feet of Jesus, and heard from his own lips the words of grace and salvation.
One evening near the time of sunset, Naomi and Claudia were returning from their favourite walk to Bethany, attended only by the faithful Deborah, Theophilus, who was their frequent companion, being unable to join them. They crossed the rippling stream of Cedron, and entered the garden of Zadok, which extended from the margin of the brook to the road by which they always approached the city gate. The thick foliage of the overhanging trees cast a deep shade across the garden path, and the young maidens were startled at observing the figure of a man lurking in one of the darkest spots. Claudia would have fled from the garden, and Deborah shrunk back, trembling more from a superstitious fear of meeting an apparition than from any apprehension of danger from a living man. But Naomi, with her usual presence of mind and undaunted spirit, drew them forward, whispering, "Fear not: if evil is intended it is useless to fly, for we must be overtaken; and if we boldly proceed, our confidence may deter the intruder from approaching us."
They advanced along the most open path, and Naomi continued talking to her companions in a cheerful tone of voice, when even her courage was almost put to flight by the stranger suddenly springing towards her through the bushes, and catching her in his arms. But what was her surprise and delight when she heard the voice of Javan exclaim,—
"It is my own dear sister Naomi! I thought I could not mistake your form and step—but your voice completely satisfied me. I have been lingering here for some hours; for I was anxious, if possible, to see some member of my father's household, and learn the present state of the city before I presented myself at the gate. But as I find you, Naomi, walking thus slenderly attended, I conclude that the civil war has somewhat subsided, and I may fearlessly enter the city under your escort."
Naomi most joyfully embraced her brother, for whom she had a sincere affection, notwithstanding the many annoyances and provocations which she had received for his violent temper. Indeed all these were forgotten and forgiven during his long absence; and she remembered but that Javan was her only brother, who had been in danger and in captivity, and had now returned to be her friend and companion, and the comfort, as she hoped, of her parents. She assured him that he could safely enter the walls of Jerusalem, as the Zealots were almost constantly shut up in the temple, except when they sallied forth to insult or pillage the more peaceable inhabitants.
"But happily," she added, "the situation of our father's house, so near the water-gate, allows me to walk out constantly in this direction; and not only to enjoy the beauty and fragrance of our own garden, but to ramble unmolested among the olive-groves of yonder mount, and to visit the lovely village of Bethany."
Naomi sighed as she spoke of Bethany, for she feared that the return of her brother might put a stop to the happy and interesting hours which she passed there with Mary; for she knew that if he once suspected the object of her visits to the village, his anger would be ungovernable, and she dreaded his becoming acquainted with what he would call her impious apostasy. She could have wished that he might remain ignorant of it, but she felt that it was almost a hopeless wish, and she only prayed that she might be supported under the bitter addition of a brother's anger and a brother's scorn.
Claudia did not receive the salutations of Javan with unmixed pleasure. She feared for Naomi, and she feared for herself, and she felt a gloomy foreboding that his presence would only bring fresh trouble and discord. But Deborah was overpowered with delight at again beholding her beloved young master in freedom. All the waywardness of his disposition had not weakened her attachment to him, and he returned her affection with great sincerity. Javan was not devoid of good natural feelings, and when they were called forth he displayed a warmth of heart that would have made him amiable and beloved, if it had been united to the Christian graces of humility and charity. But pride and fanaticism were his predominant passions, and too often stifled or concealed all that was good and estimable in his character. He loved his parents and he loved his sister. His father's learning and strict attention to the observances of religion and the customs of his sect, were with him a source of pride, and he could not but respect the deep piety and integrity of Zadok; while his mother's gentle and affectionate manner, and the tender admonitions which she had bestowed on him at parting, had made an impression on his heart that could not be obliterated. In the energy and determination of Naomi's character he found a counterpart of his own; and he admired her spirit, though it had been the frequent cause of dissensions between them in former days, while yet his sister's heart was unchanged, and the faults of her education were uncorrected by the mild spirit of Christianity. But all the more engaging points in her character were unshared by her brother, and found no sympathy from him when his love for her was opposed by his prejudices or his passions.
On reaching the threshold of their father's house, Naomi hastened forward to acquaint her mother of Javan's return, for she feared that the sudden joy of seeing him so unexpectedly might overpower her. She found Salome and Zadok, with their friend Rabbi Joazer, sitting on the terrace at the back of the house, from whence there was a fine view of the Mount of Olives and the surrounding country. The situation of Zadok's house was very elevated; and this terrace, which was a favourite resort of the family, entirely commanded the city walls to the east, and afforded a cool and pleasant retreat when the sun was sinking towards the western horizon, and casting the deep and broad shadows of the temple and the battlements across the fertile valley that lay below. A small but richly cultivated garden of flowers had been formed at the foot of the terrace, and the perfume of roses and jessamines, and other odorous plants, rose deliciously in the evening breeze. The moon had just risen above the summit of the Mount of Olives, and though it yet appeared but as a brilliant crescent, yet in the pure atmosphere of that favoured land its mild beams were sufficient to shed a soft and lovely light on all around. Naomi paused involuntarily when she drew near the group who were seated in this enchanting spot. Zadok and Joazer were conversing so earnestly that her light step was unperceived, as the faces of the speakers were turned from her, and unintentionally she heard some words of their discourse.
"She is an obstinate apostate!" exclaimed the rabbi, with warmth. "She is unworthy of the name of Zadok's daughter! Let her beanathema maranatha."
"Oh! say not so," cried the trembling voice of Salome. "Curse not my child, most holy rabbi. If, as you say, she is possessed by the spirits of evil, let us rather pray for her."
Zadok was about to reply, when a sigh that burst from Naomi's burdened heart attracted the attention of her parents and the rabbi, and they turned towards her. It must have been a heart of stone that could look upon her at that moment, and not be touched by the expression of deep grief and patient resignation depicted in her pale countenance. Her hands were clasped, and her glistening eyes turned upwards, as if seeking from above that comfort and that protection which it seemed probable would soon be denied her on earth. Anxiety and sorrow had already left their traces on her form and face, and quenched the brilliance of her clear black eye; but she was more lovely and more interesting in her patient grief than she had been in the pride of her joyous youth.
A tear rolled down Salome's cheek as she gazed upon her beloved, but, as she believed, her deluded and erring child; and Zadok turned away, and strove to conquer the love and the compassion that swelled within his breast. But the rabbi was unmoved. Years of laborious and unprofitable study had extinguished his social affections, and dried up the current of his natural feelings. In the firmness of the young Christian he saw nothing but the machinations of Satan, and in her touching sorrow he only recognised the wiles of the evil one to soften and deceive her parents.
"Away, thou child of the devil!" he exclaimed, "and seek not to move your too indulgent parents by this vain show of sorrow, while by your perverseness and impiety you are all the while breaking their hearts. Oh that you resembled your holy and zealous brother Javan! Then would you be a joy and a comfort to the house of the righteous Zadok, instead of bringing shame and dishonour on the descendant of Aaron, the saint of the Lord. But why do I waste my words on one so obdurate and so unworthy. Satan hath blinded thine eyes, and shut out the light of heaven; and but for your mother's false tenderness, you should be sent forth an outcast, as his portion."
To this passionate malediction the unhappy Naomi made no reply. She felt that it was but a portion of her appointed trial, and in her heart she repeated the meek words of the fugitive King of Israel—"Let him curse, for the Lord hath bidden him." She turned towards her mother, and said in a faltering voice,
"I come only to announce my brother's safe return. He feared to startle you if he suddenly appeared. May he be a blessing to you. For myself, I can only expect his scorn and hatred when he hears that I have learned to honour the holy name which he despises. But be it so. My proud heart has need of all this to convince it of its own weakness and its own depravity."
Joazer had not waited for the conclusion of Naomi's sentence, but had hurried from the terrace to meet and to welcome his former pupil; and Salome seized the opportunity of his absence to entreat her husband to conceal from Javan, at least for a time, the apostasy of his sister.
"Doubtless," she urged, "our prayers and our arguments will, ere long, bring her back into the path of truth; and you know, Zadok, the violence of Javan's feelings with regard to the Nazarene faith. Before I go to meet my son, let me hear you promise to keep from him the knowledge of what would so deeply grieve him."
Zadok gave the promise which she required, for he hoped that Naomi might derive benefit from the conversation and the learning of her brother; and he knew that if Javan even suspected her of being a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth, he would hold it to be contamination to have any intercourse with her. Naomi rejoiced in this concession, for she dreaded her brother's wrath; and she determined that she would not confess to him her faith so long as duty and sincerity did not require it. She would gladly have retired to her own chamber, and related to Claudia all that had occurred, but she felt that her absence from the family circle on this occasion would excite the surprise and call forth the inquiries of her brother; she therefore endeavoured to subdue her emotion, and to assume a cheerful aspect, before Javan and the rabbi, joined by her father and mother, appeared on the terrace.
The greetings and the animated conversation that ensued, allowed her time to rally her spirits and regain her composure. Javan had much to tell of his perils at Jotapata, of his long and irksome captivity, and of his escape and subsequent adventures. And as the name of Marcellus was frequently mentioned in his narrative, and Javan also faithfully delivered the parting messages of their former friend to each member of the family, Naomi felt so deep an interest in the discourse as to forget for a time her own peculiar trials and sorrows. Claudia also was delighted at the news of her brother's safety and prosperity. It was a long time since he had been able to send her any intelligence; but in his last letter he had informed him that their father was anxiously awaiting any favourable opportunity for recalling her from Jerusalem, and placing her in some secure retreat, before the Roman army should commence a serious attack upon the capital. She had therefore, since the departure of Simon and his army, been in constant expectation of receiving a summons from Rufus, and an intimation of the plan which he wished her to pursue in order to join him. She ardently desired again to see her father and brother; and yet she dreaded this summons, for her heart was linked to Jerusalem by many ties, and she regretted that she had not been born a Jewish maiden, that so her duty as well as her affections might lead her to share the dangers and remain to sympathise in the sorrows of her friends. She had prospects of happiness laid out before her, the particulars of which shall be detailed hereafter, but she feared that her father's consent might not be obtained for their accomplishment, and that he might demand from her a sacrifice that she felt she could hardly make.
When first she recognised Javan in the garden, she thought that he might have been employed by her father to escort her out of the city to meet him in some safe place; and she listened with mingled anxiety and fear, until she found from his conversation with Naomi that he had escaped as a fugitive from the Roman camp, and not come as an emissary from the centurion. And when she heard the story of his wanderings, and knew how long a period had elapsed since he left the camp, though relieved from the dread of being recalled from Jerusalem, she again felt anxious and surprised at her brother's long silence, and feared that his messengers must have been unfaithful, or that his letters had been intercepted by the way. While she was minutely interrogating Javan concerning her father and brother, Zadok drew the rabbi aside, and communicated to him his reasons for consenting to keep secret from the zealous young Pharisee the fact of his sister's conversion to Christianity and with some difficulty he obtained Joazer's concurrence to the plan. The fanatical rabbi burned to disclose the whole story of Naomi's crimes to her brother; for he fully anticipated that he should then have Javan's support and assistance in bringing about those harsh measures which he had vainly pressed upon her parents, as most likely to conduce to her restoration. It was therefore with a bad grace that he agreed to allow a further period for the trial of gentle treatment, and consented to meet and converse with the delinquent, in the presence of her brother, with the same freedom and cordiality that had marked his manner towards her in former days. These two learned but mistaken men then rejoined the party, and listened with considerable interest to Javan's account of the forces and discipline of the Roman army, and also to as much as he thought proper to disclose of Simon's projects. He had left his adopted leader in Idumea, and had entered Jerusalem as a spy upon the Zealot party. His design was to incline as many of the influential men as he could induce to listen to him, to invite Simon into the city, and make him their chief, in opposition to John of Gischala, and when he considered affairs in a proper state for the appearance of the son of Gioras at the gates of Jerusalem, he had promised to send him intelligence by a trusty messenger, or himself to go into Idumea, and summon him to be the deliverer of his country.
The greater part of these schemes Javan kept profoundly secret; and after he had lauded the courage and the zeal of Simon, and expatiated on his patriotism and his fitness to take the command of the Jewish forces, as successor to the captive Josephus, he turned the conversation to his own personal adventures and dangers, since he had escaped from the Roman camp. His sufferings and privations had frequently been very severe, as he was compelled to lurk among rocks and uninhabited wildernesses for several days together, for fear of falling into the hands of his enemies. In the village of Bethezob, in Peræa, he had found a refuge for some time, at the dwelling of Mary, the daughter of Eleazar, who was a near relation of his mother's, and with whom he had become acquainted during her temporary residence in Jerusalem some years before. She was a woman of great wealth, and lived on the estates which she had inherited from her father, in a style of magnificence and luxury. Her attendants and domestics formed a numerous retinue; and her influence in the neighbourhood was so great, that when Placidus, shortly after Javan's visit to his relative, ravaged the district of Peræa, he deemed it prudent to leave the noble lady unmolested, in the hope that his moderation might induce her to favour the Roman party.
Javan informed his parents that he had endeavoured to persuade Mary to remove, with her only child and all her movable wealth, to the metropolis for security, before the Roman army should enter Peræa; but she had refused to do so at that time, as she felt convinced that with the comparatively small body of troops which Placidus had under his command, he would not attempt the subjugation of the province. Her conjectures had proved false, and the Roman general had not long afterwards carried his conquering arms through the whole region. Mary had however remained in safety on her own territory; and when, some time subsequent to his first visit, Javan had again found it necessary to retreat to Peræa, to avoid the wild bands who, under their leader Simon, were ravaging Idumea, he found her meadows and orchards as fertile and uninjured as when he saw them before the descent of Placidus. The lady of Bethezob had, however, been so much alarmed at the destruction which the Romans had effected in the surrounding country, that she told Javan she had resolved to abandon her estates and retire with her family into Jerusalem, to await in the security of its walls and battlements, the termination of the war. Better had it been for the wealthy daughter of Eleazar to have remained near her native village, subject to all the chances and the dangers of an invading army, than to join the inhabitants of Zion, and share in all the sorrows and sufferings and revolting crimes to which the long-protracted siege at length drove this most desperate and enduring people!
Convent at Santa SabaConvent at Santa Saba
The return of Javan to the home of his father put an end, in a great degree, to the freedom and independence that Naomi had hitherto enjoyed in directing her rambles according to her own inclination. Her brother constantly offered to be her companion and protector, when he was not engaged in carrying on his secret machinations in favour of Simon, and it was therefore but seldom that she could now find an opportunity of visiting her beloved old friend at Bethany. Occasionally, however, she enjoyed that satisfaction, accompanied by Claudia and escorted by her cousin Theophilus. Since her return to Jerusalem from Pella, she had become better acquainted with her cousin than she had been before. He was naturally extremely reserved in his manner, and the consciousness that on the important subject of religion he differed from the family of Zadok, had made him rather shun his relatives, when he was not called upon by duty or kindness to associate with them. It has been mentioned that during the time of Zadok's illness, when the Zealots carried on their wildest outrages, Theophilus remained in Jerusalem to be a comfort and protection to Salome and Claudia. To the former he had always been very much attached, for the gentleness and meekness of her disposition accorded with his ideas of what was becoming in a female character much more than the energetic spirit of her daughter; and he frequently lamented that she should remain ignorant of the religion of Him who was eminently "meek and lowly of heart," and whose doctrines he felt sure would have found a suitable abode in her amiable and pious spirit. But "the Lord seeth not as man seeth," and judgeth not as man judgeth. The proud and self-confident Naomi became, by the teaching of His Spirit, a mild disciple of Christ—she whom Theophilus regarded as too high-minded and self-willed to receive the humbling doctrines of Christianity, had already embraced them with eagerness and sincerity; but her more gentle mother shunned and dreaded the same doctrines, and while appealing to the mercy of God, yet put confidence in the flesh, and—as she had been brought up to do—trusted in part to her own works for acceptance with Him.
For Claudia Theophilus conceived a much warmer affection. The candour of her disposition, and her openness to conviction when he conversed with her on the folly and iniquity of her former religion, won his esteem; and the intelligence and seriousness of her remarks made him hope that in due time her heart would be prepared for the reception of that faith to which he was a most zealous convert. He delighted to read and explain to her the writings of Moses and the prophets, and to point out to her, through the whole series of sacred Scripture, the promise of the great Messiah, the seed of the woman who should bruise the serpent's head. He did not altogether dwell on these glorious passages which depict his triumphant advent. He had learned to believe and adore him in his humiliation, and he showed to Claudia how the Saviour must be stricken and smitten, and bear the transgressions of men; and how he must be despised and rejected by those whom he came to save; and at last, how it was written of him that he should make "his grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death," though "he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth."
By these means he opened her mind to the real character of the Messiah, whose coming she still regarded as future, and prepared her to receive the lowly Jesus of Nazareth as "him of whom Moses and the prophets did speak." When Naomi returned home, Theophilus had not further enlightened his young pupil in the Christian faith. He was well satisfied with the progress she was making under his instruction and that of Salome and Deborah; but when at their next meeting she informed him of the confession which her friend had so boldly made, and with tears entreated him to try and convince her of her error, and thus restore her to her father's favour, he felt that he could no longer dissemble his own faith. Amaziah, in declaring himself and Judith to be Christians, had not mentioned his son; he had wished him to act as he saw best for himself; and Claudia had no idea that her preceptor was also a Nazarene, and that he had hitherto purposely withheld from her the knowledge of his being so. She was therefore not a little astonished at his declaration that he had been baptized into the church of Christ many years ago, and that the dearest wish of his heart was to see her as sincere a believer in the crucified Jesus as he was himself.
From that time Theophilus took every opportunity of conversing with Claudia on the subject most interesting to him; and Naomi rejoiced to find that her friend's prejudices against Christianity were gradually disappearing. She delighted to join in the animated discussions that frequently occurred between Claudia and her young teacher, and her own fervent enthusiasm inspired fresh zeal into the calm but devoted spirit of Theophilus. The same faith animated them both, and perfect confidence was soon established between the cousins, such as they had never felt in former days. Naomi was regarded by Theophilus as a sister; and the warmest efforts and the most heartfelt prayers were exerted by these Christian relatives for the advancement of Claudia's true happiness and eternal salvation.
When Amaziah and Judith became inmates in the house of Zadok, they saw with much concern the evident attachment that subsisted between their son and the young Roman maiden; for they knew not that the Spirit of the Lord was working in her heart, and bringing her out of heathen darkness into the glorious light of the Gospel. But when Theophilus informed them of the progress which the true religion had already made in dispelling the errors of her education, and bringing her to the knowledge of God, they rejoiced that he had bestowed his affections on one so amiable and so sensible as Claudia. The interest which they would naturally have felt in instructing so engaging and ingenuous a pupil, was greatly enhanced by the prospect of her becoming ere long their daughter; and they resolved that as soon as she was prepared to embrace the religion of Jesus, and to receive baptism, they would solicit her father's consent to her union with Theophilus, and removal with them to Ephesus.
Naomi sincerely rejoiced in her friend's happiness; but the idea that the time was drawing near when Amaziah and Judith were to depart from Jerusalem, and that then Claudia also would be removed far away from her, and she should be left without one Christian friend in whom she could confide, filled her with sorrow. While Mary of Bethany lived, she knew that she should not want either sympathy or counsel; but she saw that the aged saint was sinking gradually into the grave, and her own prospects were cheerless and gloomy as regarded the present world. Nevertheless all the persuasions and arguments of Claudia and her relatives were quite unavailing to induce her to accompany them in their exile. Her parents would have consented to her doing so, for Zadok saw how hopeless it was that she would ever return to the faith of her fathers; and he would not have opposed any plan by which the dishonour of her apostasy might have been kept from the knowledge of the world. To Salome the loss of her daughter's society would have been irreparable and severe; and yet she almost entreated her to go. She believed that Naomi would thus be removed from many griefs and much anxiety; and she also dreaded the evil days that her heart foreboded were coming on Zion, and desired to know that her beloved child was placed beyond the reach of Judea's chastisement. Not even her mother's wishes could in this instance shake the resolution of Naomi: she could not believe that it was her duty to forsake her father and mother, so long as she was not absolutely prevented from exercising her own religion, and compelled to conform to anything which her conscience condemned. This was not the case, for Zadok was too wise to resort to such measures; and in the privacy of her own chamber she was permitted to pass her time according to the dictates of her own unalterable faith, and the customs which she had learned from her Christian brethren at Pella. No prospects of personal security and happiness could tempt her to leave her parents, more especially in a time of danger and anxiety; and her firmness on this point moved the heart of Zadok towards his daughter, and made him in some measure relax from the sternness of manner which he had assumed towards her ever since her return from Pella.
Javan knew not that his uncle and Judith were members of the sect which he so greatly despised. Their apostasy had been hitherto kept secret from him; and therefore if he had believed that heavy calamities were coming on the city of his pride, he would have urged his sister to remove for a time to Ephesus. But Javan dreamt only of his country's triumph, and admitted not one thought of her desolation. He looked forward with hope and confidence to the result of the war, and exulted in the prospect of meeting the Romans, hand to hand, before the walls of Jerusalem. Therefore he encouraged Naomi to remain, and witness the glorious deliverance which the Lord would bring about for his own people; and though far from sharing his triumphant expectations, she was well pleased that he did not oppose her wishes, and her determination to share whatever peril should betide her parents.
The family of Zadok were thus circumstanced and thus influenced, when, on a calm and lovely evening, Theophilus, with his cousin and Claudia, crossed the brook of Kedron, and ascended the Mount of Olives. Theophilus led his companions a little out of the direct road to Bethany, that they might visit the garden of Gethsemane—that spot so sacred and so dear to every one who bears the name of Him, who beneath those aged trees wept and agonized for them! Tradition had preserved the situation of the very spot on which the Saviour knelt; and in deep emotion the three young converts now stood round the consecrated spot, while Theophilus fervently prayed that they all might be partakers in the redemption purchased by the mysterious sufferings of the Son of God. Naomi had not visited that garden since she had been taught to feel so deep an interest in the Divine Being, whose presence had so frequently hallowed it, and who loved to retire to the calmness of its peaceful shades, after the toils and trials of the day were over. There had he conversed with his highly-favoured disciples, and there had he passed hours in prayer for them, and for all who should in after ages believe on Him through their word. How precious was the remembrance of those prayers to the heart of Naomi. She had already met with difficulties and temptations in her Christian course, and she had reason to anticipate still further trials and sufferings; yet she knew that she might apply to herself the words of her Lord to Peter, "I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not;" and trusting to his intercession, she believed that strength would be given her to take up the cross, and follow the Lamb whithersoever he should lead her.
Her reflections therefore on her future prospects were serious, but not desponding; and they occupied her mind during the remainder of the walk to Bethany so entirely that she took no part in the conversation of Theophilus and Claudia. Their discourse naturally turned from Gethsemane to the succeeding events in the sorrowful life of the Redeemer; and when they reached the dwelling of Mary, the interesting subject was unfinished.
"Mary," said Claudia, as she seated herself by the couch on which the aged disciple rested, "we have been to the garden of Olives, where you used to say you would lead me and Naomi, and tell us of the latter days of Jesus of Nazareth. I fear your feeble limbs will never again carry you to the holy spot; but will you not relate to us now what you remember of the Redeemer's last visits to this house, and all the sad events that closed his life?"
"My child," replied Mary, "it is now my happiness and my support to dwell on those days; though when they were present, I believed that the misery and woe which I endured would have broken my heart. My soul, now that it is about to quit this earthly scene and appear before its Maker, rests wholly on those sufferings of my Lord and Saviour for the expiation of the sins that crowd on my memory, and would press so heavily and so hopelessly on my conscience, had he not borne their weight and endured their punishment. Not one word or look of my blessed Master has escaped my memory. Oh, his countenance was light, and his voice brought peace and joy to all who loved him as I loved him! And yet I lived to hear that voice lifted up in anguish, and to see that heavenly countenance grow cold in death! It is to that last awful period that my own soul clings; but I will tell you of the days of anxious grief that went before. It was on the evening of the last sabbath before the Passover that Jesus came to dwell beneath our roof. We did not know all that should befall him ere the close of that great festival; but we saw that his disciples were filled with grief and anxiety, and we heard from them of the sad announcement which he had made of his approaching sufferings; and our hearts were heavy. The Lord graciously accepted the invitation of one of his disciples named Simon, who dwelt in Bethany, to sup in his house, and it was the happy privilege of my sister and myself to wait upon him."
"And it was on that occasion, dear mother," interrupted Naomi, "that Judith has told me you anointed the feet of the Lord, and wiped them with your hair, and that he so kindly received that mark of devotion, and so remarkably commended it."
"Yes, my dear Naomi, it did please the gracious Redeemer to manifest his approbation of so slight and unworthy a service, to teach his followers, in all ages, that he will accept the humblest offering of the meanest disciple, if brought to him in love and gratitude. He who so soon afterwards threw aside the cloak of hypocrisy, and was known as the traitor, reproved me for thus expending what might have been sold for a large sum, and given to the poor; but the Lord silenced him, and gave this melancholy sanction to what I had done: 'She is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying.' Then we knew that all our worst fears were well founded, and that our beloved Master was indeed about to leave us; and then did every moment of his presence become, if possible, doubly precious to us all. The following day he remained with us here; and the report having reached the city that he was abiding at Bethany, multitudes of Jews came out to see him, and also to behold our brother who had been dead, and was alive again. The approach of the Passover had necessarily brought great numbers of Jews from distant places to keep the feast; and many of these had never seen Jesus, though his fame was spread abroad over all the land, and they had heard of the miracles which he had wrought, and were eager to be convinced of the truth of the resurrection of Lazarus. How rejoiced were we that our beloved brother should thus become a convincing proof of the divinity of our Lord and Master! And the time of his departure being now so near, he no longer refused to be publicly acknowledged. The hour was coming in which the Son of Man should be glorified; and the next day he sent two of his disciples before him to Jerusalem, to bring him the ass on which the prophet had foretold that he, the King of Zion, should enter the city. Seated on that lowly animal, and surrounded by all the inhabitants of Bethany, he descended the Mount of Olives. A vast concourse of persons from Jerusalem met him as he proceeded, and while they waved aloft the palm-branches which they had gathered, and cast their garments on the road before him, they raised the exulting cry, 'Hosanna! blessed is the King of Israel, that cometh in the name of the Lord!' O my children, that was a glorious sight! In the triumphant feelings of that moment we forgot the anxiety and fear that had so heavily oppressed our hearts. But when we turned to look on Him who was the object of all this enthusiastic feeling, we saw that he took no part in the general rejoicing. His eyes were fixed in sorrow and pity on the magnificent city towards which he was approaching, and the measure of whose guilt he knew would so soon be filled up. The shouts of the countless multitude were hushed, for the King of Zion opened his lips to speak; and while tears of compassion flowed from his eyes, he uttered that awful prediction, which doubtless will ere long be terribly fulfilled. Never can those words be forgotten:—'If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee, that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep thee on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou knewest not the time of thy visitation.' My dear young friends," continued Mary, in a voice trembling with emotion, "I shall not live to see those evil days, for I feel that my departure is near at hand; but you may expect to behold the vengeance of the Lord executed on the rebellious city, which has been blessed and favoured above all other cities on the earth. May you all be preserved from sharing her punishment, as, by the mercy of your Redeemer, your souls have been snatched from her guilt! Naomi, my beloved child in the Lord, I know your determination to abide with your parents; and I believe that you are acting according to the will of God. Therefore, come what may, I know that you are safe in his hands; and that whether in sorrow or in joy, in life or in death, his eye shall watch over you, and his hand shall guide you, until at last he shall bring you to those heavenly joys for which your ransomed spirit pants already."
Mary paused awhile, for her feelings were unchilled by age, and they were too powerful for her strength. Theophilus begged her to converse no more at that time, and promised that he would on the following evening bring his young companions again, to hear the remainder of her interesting recital; but she assured him that it was her greatest delight to discourse with them of those events which were so indelibly impressed on her own heart.
"How," she added, "can I better spend the small remains of time and strength which I still receive from his mercy, than by telling of all that he has done and suffered for my soul, and for the souls of those who hear me; yea, even for the souls of the thoughtless and guilty multitude, who refused to listen to the things that belonged to their peace, and who so soon exchanged the hosannas and blessings with which they hailed his entrance into their city, for menaces and cries of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' Doubtless had the children of Zion by faith beheld their King; had they repented in sack-cloth and ashes, like the inhabitants of Nineveh at the preaching of Jonah, and wept and prayed unto the Lord, even then the judgment might have been reversed, and mercy have triumphed. But they hardened their hearts, they killed the Holy One and the Just, and the city which saw his death must see his vengeance. The day on which our Master made his public entrance into Jerusalem, he passed much time in the temple, preaching and teaching the people; and when eventide was come, he again returned to our dwelling, accompanied by his twelve apostles.
"Again on the following morning he repaired to the temple, and to the astonishment of the priests and elders, he drove out all those who were profaning his Father's house by buying and selling within the sacred courts. They were filled with indignation at his boldness, and at the applauses of the multitude; and these ministers, appointed for God's service, who should have led the people to the feet of Jesus, to listen to his words, took counsel how they might slay him, because many believed on him. But as yet they feared to take him, for they saw that the multitude who constantly surrounded him would rise up in his defence; and that night also he returned unmolested to Bethany. It was not till the following evening that the traitor Judas went to the chief priests, and offered to deliver up his master into their hands; and the next day was the Passover. The treachery of Judas, and the determination of the chief priests to put him to death, must have been well known to the Lord; yet he openly went again to the city, and eat the Passover with his twelve disciples, not even excluding him who had already betrayed him. Then did he institute that holy feast, which it is the happiness and privilege of his disciples, in every age and every land, to celebrate in remembrance of him. You, Theophilus and Naomi, have already been permitted to partake of this memorial of your Saviour's dying love, and our dear Claudia will soon enjoy the same privilege. May it ever be your highest joy thus to declare yourselves his disciples; and may you so eat his flesh and drink his blood that you may be partakers in the salvation which by his death he purchased for you. When our beloved Master left Bethany on the day of the Passover, we little thought of the circumstances under which we should next behold him, and that he would never again return to our house before his death. But that very night the treacherous schemes of Judas were accomplished. I have often repeated to you already, what I afterwards heard from the blessed disciple John, of the gracious and affecting discourse which he addressed to his chosen followers before he left the room in which he had eaten his last supper; and how, having sung a hymn with them, he repaired to the garden which you have visited to-day, and passed hours in deep and mysterious agony, such as we cannot comprehend. There, to a retired and favourite spot, where Judas had often followed his Master, he now led the soldiers who were commissioned to take him. No admiring multitude now stood round him, to prevent the deed of sacrilege. The darkness of night shrouded alike the divine sufferer and his malignant enemies. The powers of evil were abroad, and were permitted in that hour to bring to pass what had been decreed in the everlasting counsels of Jehovah. Even the chosen disciples, the lion-hearted Peter and the devoted John, were sunk in sleep, worn out with sorrow and anxiety, and watched not with their sorrowing Lord, until he roused them to meet the approaching foe. Oh! my heart burns when I think of the insult which he then received from Judas. The traitor met him with a kiss! And the Lord of heaven and earth, who could have called down legions of angels to his defence, submitted to the salutation, and suffered himself to be bound and led away unresistingly, as a lamb to the slaughter. The rumour that he was taken prisoner by the chief priests reached us at Bethany before break of day; and in anguish not to be told, we hastened to the city. We found that he had been led to Ananius first, and at the entrance of his court we waited in trembling anxiety, until we beheld him brought forth, not, as we hoped, to freedom, but only to be dragged from thence to the palace of Caiaphas. John was permitted to follow his Master into the palace, and my heart went with him, but we were not allowed to enter. Soon the beloved disciple returned and took in Peter also: but it had been well for him if he had not been admitted. You all know how Satan overcame him, and how grievously he fell. That fall has been a warning to us all; and may we be instructed by it! But we will not dwell on the errors of that distinguished and now glorified disciple. They were pardoned by his benign Master, and are only recorded for our instruction."
"Was John standing by him when he uttered his denial?" asked Claudia. "I think the affectionate heart of the disciple whom Jesus loved must have been deeply wounded to hear such words from the mouth of his companion."
"John had followed the Lord Jesus into the presence of the high-priest, and did not therefore witness the cowardice of Peter. But he who knew even the thoughts of their hearts, heard his name denied three times; and it must have added to the sorrows that already weighed so heavily on his soul. But pity was all he felt; and he turned on Peter such a look as reached him in the distant crowd, and told him at once of the grief and the forgiveness of his Master. His repentance was instant and sincere, and with bitter tears he mourned his guilt."
"Did you see Jesus again, Mary?" inquired Claudia. "I know that he was at length condemned by our Roman governor; but where did that take place?"
"Oh! my child, they led him from court to court, and from one judge to another. They insulted and scourged him; they clothed him in robes of mockery; and we saw him thus brought forth to the people by Pilate, and heard him loudly proclaim that he found no fault in him. Then we believed that he would be set free, and that his humiliation was over. But Pilate's declaration of his innocence was received with deafening cries of 'Crucify him, crucify him!' The chief priests moved the people to demand his death, and their voices prevailed over Pilate's own conviction that he had done no evil. A murderer was released, according to the custom of the governor to set one prisoner at liberty on that day, and Jesus was led away to be crucified. Tearless, and almost stupified, my sister and I followed in the crowd. We could not believe that what we had seen and heard was true; but soon we beheld our own adored Master bending beneath the weight of the cross on which he was to suffer. I cannot dwell on what followed. You have all heard the particulars of that dread hour, and all have learned to cast your souls at the foot of that cross, and seek salvation there. Martha and I stood afar off; we could not leave the spot, nor could we bring ourselves to approach nearer to the scene of suffering. But the mother of the Lord stood by, attended by three of her faithful friends, and the beloved disciple supported her. She who had watched over his infancy, and noted in her heart every manifestation of his divine nature—she who had ever received from him the affection of a son, now stood beneath his cross, and saw his dying agonies. Not even the horrors of that hour could make him forget his mother; he looked down and blessed her and with his dying breath committed her to the care of John."
"And he well discharged the trust," observed Theophilus. "My father has often told me of his devoted attention to her while she lived. He was indeed a son to her; and nothing which could soothe her spirit or promote her comfort was neglected by John. With what impatient delight do I look forward to seeing that blessed man at Ephesus! He will repeat to me again and again all that you have told me so often, Mary; and by God's help I shall learn from him yet more and more to love my risen Lord. Oh, if I had lived while Jesus was on earth, I feel as if my love for him would have emulated that of John! He is indeed blessed beyond all the other sons of men; for he is that disciple who was eminently beloved. He was privileged to hold such intimate communion with him as we can never know."
"True, my son," replied Mary, "the Lord will return no more to earth as a man of sorrows, and deign to accept the sympathy and the humble services of his disciples. But your eyes, Theophilus, shall wake to see him come in glory; and if your faith and love hold on steadfast unto the end, you shall meet him as a friend, and enjoy such proofs of his favour as shall far surpass all that were ever bestowed even on John."
"But tell me," interrupted Claudia, "what did you see and hear of the fearful prodigies that attended the death of Messiah? I love to hear the recital from you, who were an eye-witness of all the awful events which declared him to be indeed the Son of God. My father once mentioned with contempt the centurion, who at that moment confessed his divinity; but he knew not the truth of all that then occurred to force conviction on the heart of the Roman soldier. It is my warmest prayer that one day I may hear him also exclaim, 'Truly this was the Son of God!'"
"May the Lord grant it!" replied Mary. "No soul that was not blinded by the devices of Satan could have witnessed what that centurion saw and not have believed. An awful darkness had covered the land for three hours, and then, when all had been accomplished—when pardon had been pronounced on the expiring thief—when an asylum had been provided for his heart-broken mother—and when everything had been fulfilled, even to the letter, that had been prophesied concerning him—the Lord proclaimed in a loud voice, 'It is finished!' Heaven and earth heard the cry, and man's redemption was complete. Then he said, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;'—and bowing his head in death, his divine spirit left the house of clay in which it had so long sojourned and suffered. Then did the powers of nature give evidence to the awful importance of the work that was finished. The earth quaked to its foundations, the rocks were rent asunder, and the graves burst open. And more ominous still, the veil of the temple was rent asunder, and the priests who were waiting there rushed forth in terror, to declare the wonderful event. The hearts of the multitude, who had come together as to a spectacle, were stricken with awe. They smote their breasts, and returned in wonder to their homes. But we who knew and loved him best, yet tarried to watch his corpse. We knew that all life was fled, for we had seen his body pierced by the spear of one of the soldiers; but we could not leave his sacred form to be the object of their insults. We had not power or influence sufficient to obtain permission to bury it; but Joseph of Arimathea, who believed in him, and feared not to acknowledge his faith, even at that time of danger and distrust, went boldly to the Roman governor, and having requested the body of Jesus, it was delivered to him for interment. It was the weakness of our faith which led us to be so anxious about the burying of our Lord's body; for had we believed all that he himself had said concerning his rising again the third day, we should have known that all our cares and precautions for its preservation was needless. But as yet we knew not the Scriptures nor the power of God and when the Lord was laid in the sepulchre of Joseph, we saw a great stone laid against the door, and departed with the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that all due respect had been paid to his honoured remains."
"But how wonderfully," observed Naomi, "was this very circumstance made to show forth the truth of God's word! The Jews even now say that his disciples came by night and took him away; and such is my father's reply, when I speak of his miraculous resurrection. But he cannot deny the security of the sepulchre. He acknowledges that the stone was sealed, and a watch was set by the chief priests. Surely then their own precautions prove the falsity of what they say."
"Yes, my child," continued Mary, "the malice of these wicked men was overruled by God, to accomplish what he had desired; and their jealous prudence was the means of proving that he did not suffer his Holy One to see corruption. While we, his weak and sorrowing disciples, were mourning his death with bitter tears, and hiding our grief in solitude, for fear of the vengeance of the priests, the Lord was preparing for us such joy and triumph as our desponding hearts could not conceive. What words can tell the feelings which over-powered us when first we heard the glorious news, 'He is risen!' And oh! when at length we saw him, when our eyes were blessed with the sight of his heavenly countenance, and we heard again that voice of mercy and of love, truly could we then have taken up the words of the aged Simeon, and said, 'Lord, now are we ready to depart in peace, for our eyes have seen thy salvation!' We knew that our redemption was accomplished and accepted; we knew that henceforth whosoever believed in Jesus should inherit eternal life. All our doubts and fears were gone, and peace and joy for ever established in our souls. The Lord did not tarry long with us, but ascended to his Father. There does he watch over his church, and sympathise in all the trials and temptations of his children; and there do they join him and behold his glory, as one by one the hand of death comes to set them free from this earthly tabernacle, and open to them an entrance into the mansions of everlasting bliss. Oh! my dear children, my spirit longs to take its flight, and soon, I feel, will the summons come."
Mary closed her eyes and sank back on her couch, greatly exhausted by the effort she had made. She had hoped that the account of all that she herself had heard and seen might make a deep impression on the heart of Claudia, and she was not disappointed; but her strength was almost unequal to the exertion of so long a discourse on subjects so profoundly interesting to her, and for a few minutes she lay silent and motionless, while in her spirit she fervently prayed. Her young friends and her faithful attendant Hannah, who had listened to the conversation with deep attention, stood round her in silence, until she had somewhat recovered her strength, when she raised herself, and again addressed them, but in a weak and faltering voice—
"The evening is closing in, my children, and you have already tarried too long with me. I will detain you no more: but if we meet again in this world, I will tell you yet many things that will touch your hearts with love to your Redeemer, and furnish you with blessed subjects for reflection when youth and health are gone, and you are, like me, laid on the bed of death. Let me bless you before you depart."
The three young disciples knelt beside the couch of the dying saint, and with tears received her blessing. They then rose, and embracing her affectionately, left the house and hastened towards the city. The sun was sinking behind the hill of Zion as they began to descend the Mount of Olives, and the short twilight had faded away before they reached the valley of Kedron, and entered the gardens that bordered the murmuring brook.
Their spirits were oppressed with awe and sadness, for the solemn interest of Mary's discourse had deeply impressed them, and her parting address had filled them with sorrow. They felt assured that their beloved friend was leaving them; and though it would be to her a transition from a world of care to a world of joy unutterable and full of glory, yet they could not think of losing her without emotion. They proceeded almost in silence, until, as they were passing by the verge of a thick grove of olive-trees, Claudia pressed the arm of Theophilus, and hastily whispered: