The second wall enclosed a part of the lower city, and joined the north-west corner of the strong citadel of Antonia. This fortress was built on a high rock, and was separated from Bezetha by a deep ditch. It stood at the north-west of the temple, and with that beautiful and commanding edifice composed a separate and independent portion of the city.
The most ancient part of the walk was that which surrounded Sion, the southern quarter of the town, and containing the strong pile of buildings called the City of David. It passed along the verge of the Valley of Hinnom, and then turning northwards, joined the eastern portico of the temple.
Thus the city was calculated to resist the strength and perseverance of almost any army that could be brought against it, being composed of four distinct quarters, each, it would seem, able to stand a regular siege independent of the fate of the other portions.
The towers which guarded the whole of this circuit were thirty-five feet high, and of the same width. On their summits were lofty chambers, less solidly built, which were again surmounted with large tanks to receive the rain-water. There were in all a hundred and sixty-four of these massy towers, the ascent to which was by handsome flights of steps; and the space from tower to tower being about three hundred and fifty feet, the whole extent of the walls must have been rather more than four miles.
Titus ascended the most elevated height in the neighbourhood of the camp, attended by Marcellus and some other of his officers, with a strong escort of cavalry. He wished to obtain a commanding view of the celebrated city which he was destined to overthrow, so that not one stone should remain upon another. Had he known what was to be the fate of that splendid city, he would have regarded it with other and more melancholy feelings. The intimate knowledge which Marcellus possessed of the interior enabled him to point out to his admiring general the situation of all its various quarters, and the most distinguished buildings.
The fortress of Antonia, and the snowy walls of the temple adorned with burnished gold, attracted the immediate attention of Titus, and long he gazed on the wonderful pile, where art and wealth had expended all their treasures. The citadel rose conspicuous above the temple, on a steep rock ninety feet high. The body of the tower was seventy feet in height, and it was finished at each corner by lofty towers. It was provided within with every accommodation that luxury could require, and was fitted rather for a royal palace than a garrison for troops. The temple itself appeared a fitting edifice to contain all the countless treasures that had once been lavished on its altars and its walls by the piety of the sons of Zion, and which, in spite of the frequent depredations that had been committed by foreign and domestic foes, were still of surpassing value.
Titus surveyed all this magnificence, and the many other noble and extensive buildings that lay before his view; and then he proceeded, with some caution, to make an entire circuit of the city. Nicanor, the tribune who had so greatly distinguished himself at Jotapata, was one of those who followed the general, and by his side rode the liberated captive Josephus. The Jew expressed an ardent wish to approach the walls and address his countrymen, who were watching their movements from the battlements and towers; and Nicanor imprudently consented to accompany him, in the hope that their united persuasions might have the effect of inclining the besieged to listen to terms of peace. Josephus made an eloquent appeal to them, describing the power and valour of the Romans, and vaunting also the clemency and generosity of Titus towards those who submitted to his arms. But while he was yet speaking, and extending his arms towards his countrymen, as if to implore them to have pity on themselves, one of those on the wall aimed an arrow at his breast, at the same time assailing him with the epithets of coward and traitor. The shaft did not reach its intended mark, but it pierced the arm of Nicanor, who stood close to Josephus, and inflicted a severe wound.
Titus was highly exasperated at this act of wanton cruelty and insult, which plainly showed that all attempts at bringing about terms of capitulation would be in vain, and he instantly resolved on commencing the siege without any further delay. He gave orders to his soldiers to ravage and destroy the suburbs, and to bring away everything that would be serviceable in raising their mounds and completing their works. All the trees were quickly cut down, and the suburbs, lately so blooming and beautiful, became naked and desolate. Titus resolved to make his first attack on the outer wall which surrounded Bezetha, because the buildings of that quarter did not reach to the wall, which consequently appeared lower. The spot which he selected was near the tomb of John the high-priest, and immediate preparations were set on foot.
When the inhabitants of Jerusalem beheld the Roman works being completed, and saw that the day of assault was near at hand, those who had hitherto been entirely occupied in destroying their own fellow-citizens, began at length to turn their attention in the direction of the Romans—the foes alike of every faction—and the more peaceable inmates enjoyed a temporary repose from their outrage and violence. Many of them even hoped and prayed for the success of the Roman arms, as the only means by which they could be rescued from the power of enemies far more to be dreaded.
The force under the command of Simon consisted of 10,000 of his own men, and 5,000 Idumeans; John of Gischala had 6,000; and 2,400 owned Eleazar as their leader. The son of Gioras allowed himself and his followers no respite to their labours. With vast exertion they succeeded in raising the military engines, formerly taken from Cestius, on the walls; but his men wanted skill to use them with much effect, and the Romans continued their labours under the shelter of their penthouses of wickerwork. Being also more practised in the use of the destructive catapultas and balistas, they greatly annoyed the besieged, and not only repelled their frequent sallies, but cast over the walls stones of an enormous size from the distance of two furlongs. These masses of rock carried death and ruin in their track, and the Jews knew not how to guard against them; but as they were generally of a very white colour they were enabled to see them approaching, and numbers of men were placed on the wall to watch for these silent and deadly enemies. These sentinels gave notice to their comrades the moment they perceived the stone leave the engine, by crying, "The bolt is coming!" when they immediately separated, and threw themselves flat on the ground, so that the rock generally passed harmless over them. This stratagem was observed by the Romans, and they afterwards took the precaution of blackening the stones, which completely baffled the besieged, and rendered these tremendous implements fearfully destructive.
Notwithstanding the great terror and loss occasioned by these engines, the Jews did not suffer their enemies to proceed undisturbed with the mounds which they were erecting, but were incessant in their sallies, and in the artifices which they employed to interrupt their labours. All their efforts were, however, unsuccessful, and the works were speedily completed. Then the engines were brought to a proper distance from the walls, and strongly guarded against the excursions of the besieged. The signal was given, and at the same moment a thundering noise resounded through every part of the city. On three different parts of the walls the battering-rams were let loose together, and terror ran through the heart of almost every dweller in Jerusalem. The soldiers of the besieged city raised a general and terrific shout, in reply to the first strokes of the ram; and all private animosities, all party feuds, appeared to be forgotten in the dreadful excitement that ensued. Convinced that nothing remained but to unite all parties in the common cause, Simon proclaimed an amnesty to all of John's adherents who would join his men in defence of the wall; and though John was himself too suspicious of his rival leader to venture out of his stronghold, yet he did not oppose his followers obeying the summons. The two factions combined in their efforts to set the engines on fire by discharging combustibles from above, while strong parties sallied from the gates below, tore away the palisades and killed many of the engineers.
Titus was unwearied in his exertions. Wherever assistance and counsel were wanted, there was he to be seen in person, and his courage and presence of mind equalled his activity. His personal inspection and encouragement excited his troops to fresh exertions, and at length a tower which stood at an angle of the wall came down beneath the blows of the battering-ram; but its fall made no breach in the walls. The besieged drew back as if in terror at this event, and the Romans were unsuspicious of any immediate attack, when suddenly a large body of the enemy rushed out from a gate near the Tower of Hippicus, and fell upon them with resistless fury and impetuosity. They were furnished with flaming brands, for the purpose of setting fire to the engines, and they soon reached the intrenchments. Had they not been most valiantly opposed by a party of Alexandrians, they must have succeeded in destroying all those dreaded machines; but while they struggled fiercely with their opponents round the engines Titus came galloping up, attended by his cavalry. With his own hand he laid twelve of the Jews dead on the ground, and the rest at length retreated, leaving one of their number a prisoner in the hands of the Romans. This unhappy man was immediately made fearful example of, being crucified before the walls, in the hope of deterring his countrymen from making any more such desperate sallies. He was the first—would that he had proved the last!—of these rebellious people who was treated with such cruel and unjustifiable barbarity, and made to endure those torments which their fathers had inflicted on the innocent, the holy, the divine Jesus of Nazareth. But the fate of this victim to Roman severity did not in the least degree deter his fellow-citizens from exposing themselves to the same perils, whenever they could hope to gain the most trifling advantage over the enemy. They continued the conflict until night put an end to their efforts, and the Romans retired to their camp exhausted with the severe exertions of the day.
With the morning dawn the battle was renewed, and again the terrific sound of the battering-rams came like thunder on the ears of the besieged. One of those dreadful engines had been named by the Jews "Nico," or "The Victorious," for they observed that nothing seemed able to resist the overwhelming strength of its blows. The dreaded Nico continued to work with unabated vigour throughout the day, and at night it ceased not to thunder against the wall, until at length it began to totter. When the Jews saw that a breach was to be apprehended, they forsook the wall, and abandoned all further attempts at defending it. The showers of darts and arrows which their enemies were able to pour down upon them from the lofty towers which they had erected to overlook the battlements, had for some time forced them to descend from the summit of the wall, and leave the battering-rams to continue their destructive blows without any effort to interrupt them. They were also wearied with exertion, and anxious to return to their own houses within the second wall, and therefore they deserted the suburb, and left Bezetha an easy prey to the conqueror.
Those of the inhabitants who still remained in that quarter fled to the more secure parts of the city, and the gateways were thronged with terrified fugitives, carrying all that was portable of their possessions, and hurrying from the expected incursion of the Romans. The confusion and alarm that already prevailed in the city were augmented by this sudden influx of a destitute population, who were entirely dependent on the charity and hospitality of their fellow-citizens for shelter and subsistence. These social virtues had almost expired in that miserable city, while selfishness and avarice reigned triumphant on every side. Few were found willing to receive and comfort their distressed brethren, and the sufferings of these wretched people were extreme. But some individuals were yet remaining in Jerusalem in whose hearts all the better and nobler feelings were not extinguished, and who gladly offered an asylum to as many of the fugitives as their dwellings would contain. Among these Zadok was the most distinguished, and his benevolence set a bright example to the rich and noble of the city. Several families were brought under the shelter of his roof, and received from the hands of Naomi and Deborah all the assistance and relief that their destitute condition required.
Salome was at this time but little able to support the constant excitement of terror in which she lived from day to day; and the appalling sounds that reached her ears told her sinking heart that the destined ruin was approaching very nigh. Naomi had hitherto used every precaution to conceal from her mother the progress that the enemy was daily making, and the slaughter that was effected among their countrymen. It would but have augmented her terror and her grief, and added to the constant anxiety which she felt from the perils to which both Zadok and Javan were exposed. But when Bezetha was abandoned to the conqueror, and the inhabitants rushed tumultuously into the inner city, mingled with the troops, and uttering wild cries of terror, the truth could no longer be disguised, and Salome learnt that the Roman eagles were even then being planted on one of the walls of Jerusalem. Soon the whole of the deserted quarter was in the possession of the enemy, and Titus having ordered a large portion of the outer wall to be thrown down, took up his position near what was called the Camp of the Assyrians. His troops commenced an immediate attack on the second wall, and were resisted with dauntless courage by the Jews. John and his party maintained the conflict from the citadel of Antonia and the northern porticoes of the temple, while Simon's men defended the wall as far as the aqueduct that passed to the Tower of Hippicus. Many and fierce were the sallies of the besieged, but as often as they rushed on the well-disciplined foe, they were driven back with considerable loss. That night both parties remained under arms, as the Romans every moment expected a sudden attack, and the Jews feared to leave their walls defenceless.
As soon as daylight returned the engagement was renewed, and never was a contest maintained with greater vigour and courage than were displayed on either side. The Jews strove to emulate one another in their contempt of danger, and in the fearless exposure of their lives, for they fought beneath the eye of Simon; and such were the awe and reverence with which he had inspired his followers, that they were willing to brave every peril in the hope of obtaining his approbation. Titus exercised the same influence over his troops, and the pride of their first success, joined to his continual presence, excited them to a stubborn and unconquerable courage.
The central tower of the second wall was the point against which the chief efforts of the Romans were directed, and the dreaded Nico was brought to bear upon it with all its resistless force. This tower had been committed by Simon to the care and defence of Javan; and a strong garrison was placed under his command for the protection of so important a post. The Romans soon drove away almost all these men by the cloud of arrows which they sent among them from their own movable buildings which they had brought to look down upon them, and Javan remained with only ten companions. He scorned to fly, and determined to have recourse to a stratagem by which an advantage might be gained to his party. He therefore desired his men to remain quiet for some time, and conceal themselves as much as possible from the enemy. But when the tower began to totter above their heads, he directed them to start up and stretch forth their hands, as if imploring mercy. At the same time he advanced to the battlements of the tower in a supplicating attitude, and called loudly on the name of Titus. His voice reached the ears of the general, who immediately gave orders for the assault to be suspended, and commanded Javan to speak. The artful Jew replied that it was his sincere desire to surrender, and throw himself upon the generosity of the noble Titus, and that he had endeavoured to bring all those under his command to the same determination. As he made this deceitful speech five of his men appeared to take his part, while the rest declared that they would never be slaves to the Romans, as long as death was in their power. A fierce quarrel seemed to follow these declarations, and the assault was in the meantime entirely suspended. Javan observed this, and instantly sent one of his men secretly to inform Simon of his artifice, and advise him to take advantage of the temporary cessation of the siege, and to concert measures for some vigorous sally, while he endeavoured as long as possible to attract the attention of the enemy.
He then continued his pretended expostulation with the adverse party of his own men, who stood on the breastworks, brandishing their swords with a menacing air, and at length, as if resolved to die rather than yield, struck their own breasts with violence, and fell, seemingly dead. The Romans were completely deceived by this pretended act of devotion to liberty, and even pitied the fate of the self-destroyed victims; but one of them, less generous than the rest, discharged an arrow at Javan, and wounded him in the face. He withdrew the shaft and held it reproachfully towards Titus, who sternly rebuked the man who had shot it, and desired Josephus to advance towards the tower and speak with the Jew. He, however, knew his own countrymen too well to place himself within their reach, and declined the errand, but a deserter named Æneas offered to go in his stead. Javan called to him to come close to the wall, that he might throw down to him some money as a pledge of his good faith; and when Æneas spread out the folds of his cloak to receive it, he cast at him a large stone with the intention of crushing him on the spot. He missed his aim, but wounded a soldier who stood near him, and Titus then saw that the whole affair was a treacherous device to gain time. He was enraged at the deceit which had been practised upon him, and gave instant orders for the assault to be resumed with fresh vigour. Javan perceived that no further advantage was to be obtained, and in desperation he and his men set fire to the tower in several places. It blazed rapidly up around them, and when the flames were high and fierce they leaped boldly into the midst of them, and again deceived the Romans into a belief that they had bravely sacrificed their lives. It was but another artifice, for they had thrown themselves into a secret passage that led underground to the interior of the city, where they soon appeared, and boasted of their success in keeping the enemy so long inactive.
On the fifth day from that on which Titus became master of the first wall, the second also was taken, and the Jews retreated. The Roman general entered that quarter of the lower city with a thousand men-at-arms and a few other chosen troops, and found himself in the midst of those streets occupied by the clothiers, the wool-merchants, and the coppersmiths, with many narrow lanes, leading to the walls in every direction. In the hope of gaining over the people to his side, and convincing them that their wisest course would be to submit without any farther struggle, Titus gave strict orders that no houses should be set on fire or injured, and no massacre committed. He caused it to be proclaimed that he did not wage war against the defenceless population, but against the insurgent garrison; and that to all the peaceable inhabitants he would readily restore their property. The leaders of the Jews and their seditious troops regarded this lenity as a proof of weakness, and threatened instant death to all who should attempt to utter a word of surrendering. They stabbed without mercy every one whom they suspected of wishing for peace, and then fell furiously on the enemy as they passed along the streets. Some poured their darts and arrows upon them from the houses, and others rushed upon them by the intricate and narrow lanes with which they were well acquainted, but which embarrassed the Romans greatly. Others sallied out of the walls that were already lost, by gates which were not yet guarded by the conquering army, and attacked their enemy in the rear. Advance or retreat seemed alike difficult for the Romans, and but for the presence of Titus, who came in person to their relief with a band of archers, a dreadful loss would probably have been sustained. He, however, succeeded in driving back the countless assailants on every side, and brought off the greatest part of his men; but the conquest which had been won with so much labour and bloodshed was again lost, and the Jews regained possession of the second wall.
This success inspired the insurgent troops with the greatest joy and confidence, and they doubted not that if ever the Romans again gained an entrance into the city they should be able to repulse them as they had already done; but they did not consider the progress of that more certain enemy that already was working its silent way through the city, and daily adding to the victims of misery and violence. The cruel and desperate soldiery had hitherto lived in plenty on what they plundered from the people, and they heeded not the distress which they inflicted, and beneath which many were continually sinking and expiring. Indeed they rather rejoiced in thus ridding the city of some part of its disaffected populace, and continued to seize on all the provisions that came in their way and retain them fur their own use. They were unable to repair the breach which the Romans had made in the wall, but with determined resolution they presented themselves to fill it with their own bodies, and for three days they fought without intermission. Vast numbers fell on the spot, but their comrades slept undauntedly upon their bleeding carcasses to supply their place and share their fate. On the fourth day they gave way, and were compelled to abandon the post; when Titus again took possession of the wall, and caused a large part of it to be razed to the ground, while he strongly garrisoned the remaining portion.
Still Antonia and the temple looked proudly down upon the conquering arms of Rome, and all the high places of Sion and David's city remained in their strength; and the garrisons were undismayed at the loss they had sustained. Titus resolved to allow the besieged a little time for reflection, in the hope that the peaceable party might yet prevail before it should be too late, and persuade the rebels to surrender. In order to impress the besieged still more with the strength and discipline of his army, he employed the interval which he allowed them from their exertions in taking a grand review of all his troops within sight of the city. From every window and every tower that commanded a view of the splendid pageant the Jewish people and their tyrant defenders looked down with consternation and dismay, while the whole Roman army, in their best equipments, defiled beyond the wall. It was a brilliant spectacle, for all the arms were uncased, and the polished shields and breastplates exposed uncovered to glitter in the sunbeams; while the cavalry followed, leading their beautiful and richly-caparisoned horses, whose trappings gleamed with gold and silver. All ranks, all classes of persons, were assembled to look on their destined destroyers; and truly it was a sight that might strike terror into the boldest hearts, or induce any beleaguered people to lay down their arms, except the obstinate and insurgent Jews, who felt that they had too deeply offended to hope for any terms from the Romans.
This beautiful but appalling spectacle was presented to the eyes of the besieged for four days; but no offers of capitulation were made—no overtures of peace reached the Roman general; and with reluctance he gave orders for the siege to be recommenced. The first step was to raise lofty mounds against the Antonia, and also against that part of the wall which was defended by Simon. The Jews had by this time learned to use their military engines with great dexterity, and they now plied them with deadly effect against the Romans employed in constructing the works. Titus was willing once more to give them an offer of peace, and far this purpose he sent Josephus again to address them; and having found a spot where he could be heard without being exposed to the arrows and darts of his countrymen, he made to them a long and eloquent speech. He used every argument that religion or humanity could furnish. Many of the people were touched by his earnest expostulations; but the Zealots were only the more irritated and enraged; and their fury knew no bounds when they discovered that numbers of the miserable populace were deserting to the enemy. Many sold all that they possessed in the city, and then fled; others swallowed their money and jewels, and then escaped to the Roman camp, where they were kindly received, and suffered to pass unmolested to whatever place they chose. Their success emboldened others, and all the efforts of John and Simon were ineffectual to restrain the constant desertions that now took place. Their partizans watched every avenue and outlet with the greatest care and diligence, and cruelly slaughtered all whom they suspected of an intention to desert. This charge also served as a convenient pretext on which they could seize and massacre any one whose wealth they coveted, and numbers were put to death who were innocent of any such design as that of which the murderers accused them.
The son of Ananus no longer passed up and down the streets of Jerusalem uttering his warning and prophetic cry. He was neither seen nor heard from the day that the siege began. The woes which he had so long and so perseveringly denounced were come in all their dread reality. Famine, with its attendant miseries, was felt throughout the city, and with the general distress the desperation of the insurgents increased also. There was no longer any corn to be seen in the markets for sale, and if the ruffian soldiers heard of any being concealed in private houses, they furiously broke them open and dragged away the treasure. If they were disappointed in the search, they tortured the wretched inhabitants to make them disclose and deliver up what they frequently did not possess. Humanity shudders at the horrid recital of the barbarity exercised by these monsters, and the sufferings of their miserable victims; which were aggravated by seeing their tyrants revelling in plenty, and even in intemperance while they were expiring for want. Every natural affection, every generous sentiment, was destroyed by the all-absorbing hunger that raged among all classes. The dearest and the closest ties were severed, and those who would in happier times have laid down their lives to preserve those of their husbands, their wives, their children, and other beloved relatives, now were seen to snatch from their dying grasp the last morsel of food, and greedily devour it before their eyes. Oh these were days of sorrow such as never had been, and may God grant they never may be again! The grey hairs of old age, and the helpless innocence of childhood excited no compassion—all were alike sacrificed to the cruel selfishness that reigned triumphant in that abode of crime and horror.
And were there no exceptions to this awful state of sin and pollution? Had the Lord God of Holiness and mercy no sanctuary left in that once blessed city? Blessed be His name, amidst so many who profaned His dwelling-place, there were yet a few in whom His image dwelt, and who thought upon his commandments to do them. In the house of Zadok, piety, charity, faith, and resignation glowed with an inextinguishable flame, and its inmates were as a burning and a shining light in the midst of a thick darkness. The influence of Javan over the partizans of Simon was sufficient to preserve his family from the visits of the plunderers, or if a few of the ruffians attempted to enter the gates, they found them too well secured and guarded; and hitherto the effects of the famine had not been felt so powerfully in that habitation as in almost every other. Zadok had foreseen what must be the unavoidable consequence of the waste and destruction of provisions that had been committed by the members of every faction before the commencement of the siege, and he had taken the precaution to lay up large stores of corn and other articles of food against the day of necessity. These stores were unknown to the insurgents, or doubtless even the protection of Simon himself would have failed to save the dwelling from their attacks, or the inhabitants from outrage and slaughter. The provisions thus preserved were not kept for the use of Zadok's family, but were freely bestowed on those who had taken refuge in his house, and on many others who knew his benevolence and came secretly to share it. He himself, and all belonging to his establishment, allowed themselves no more sustenance than was barely sufficient to support life, that they might have more to give to those who needed; and their wasted forms and pallid cheeks would have prevented any suspicion that they yet possessed the means of living in plenty.
The days, the weary days, passed on; and the provisions in Zadok's secret storehouse rapidly diminished. With great reluctance he was compelled to restrain his liberal spirit, and refuse all further aid to those who were not of his own household. The strangers who had so long found an asylum beneath his roof, went forth to seek a subsistence elsewhere, but they only found death in some of its most dreadful forms. Naomi wept in secret over the sufferings which she could no longer relieve; but when she sat by the side of her mother, or glided about, a shadow of her former self, to minister to her wants, she forced an appearance of cheerfulness which was far from her compassionate heart. It was with gratitude and joy she watched that beloved mother, and saw her daily fading away; for though "the outward man decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day;" and she knew that death would be a kind and welcome visitor, to take her from a scene of surpassing woe, to the presence of her Saviour and her God. Zadok too was resigned to part with the object of his love, rather than see her linger in protracted sorrow and anxiety; but grief would frequently unman his soul, and tears would start to his gazing eye, while he looked on the sinking form of her whom he loved with a devoted affection, and who had been the light and the joy of his life.
Many hours in every day he passed from home, in fruitless efforts to lessen the misery that surrounded him, and to pour the balm of religious consolation into the bleeding hearts of his dying and despairing fellow-citizens; and when, wearied with exertion and oppressed with sorrow, he returned to his home, it was with difficulty that he roused himself to speak cheeringly to his dying wife, and his afflicted but uncomplaining daughter. Zadok knew that Naomi had no hopes of her country being delivered from the Roman yoke; he knew also that she looked for the accomplishment of every word of those terrible predictions pronounced on the city by Jesus of Nazareth; and he marvelled greatly at the firmness and resignation with which she supported these prospects of desolation. But he did not know the inward peace that pervaded her soul, in spite of outward trials, and which was the result of her unshaken confidence in Him whom Zadok despised. He did not know that such a faith in a crucified Redeemer as glowed in the breast of Naomi, could enable a weaker mind than hers to triumph over all the ills that flesh is heir to, or he would have ceased to wonder at her cheerful patience, and at the smile with which she strove to greet him on his return from his daily occupations. It was for the sufferings of others that Naomi mourned, and for the spiritual darkness of her countrymen, especially her dearly-loved father and erring brother: for herself life had little charm, and death no terrors; and her most earnest prayer was that the Lord might see good to take her to himself shortly after her mother's removal, and ere the city should be given up to the outrages of a conquering army. It was only when she thought of Marcellus that a bursting sigh would rise, and a bitter tear tremble in her eye. It was sad to think how soon that heart which was devoted only to her would have to mourn her loss; and that eye which had looked on her with admiring pride and love, would seek her among the mangled bodies of the famished and the slain.
Zadok lamented and deeply sympathised in the miseries of his nation, but he did not yet despair of her final triumph. He could not yet believe that the God of Israel had abandoned his favoured people, and the city where his glory had dwelt; and though heavy were the chastisements with which He was now visiting the sins of his children, yet the priest trusted that He would era long remove the rod of his anger, and stand up to deliver them from the oppressor. In this hope he sustained his own dauntless courage, and excited others to the same confidence. Javan was even more sanguine than his father: he exulted in the desperate condition to which Jerusalem was reduced, for he hoped that when the hour of her greatest darkness had arrived, then would the "Sun of Righteousness arise, with dealing in his wings;" then would the great Messiah appear, to triumph over every foe, and reign "before his ancients gloriously."
The rabbi Joazer also shared these hopes, and frequently expressed them to Salome, when he came to visit her, and sought to cheer her drooping spirits. He readily perceived that she did not enter into his expectations of future victory, and he taunted Naomi with having filled her mother's mind with her own heretical fears. Naomi did not deny the charge; she wished that Salome would take courage to confess her faith ere her weakness should become too great for the effort; but when she gently urged her to do so, she always replied that she had not then the power; and her daughter feared that she would depart without making one effort for her husband's conversion. The fear of death had ever been a powerful feeling with Salome; and its near approach had not yet lessened its terrors. Her hope of future blessedness was daily growing stronger and clearer, but her dread of the dark valley of the shadow of death, by which she must pass to her glorious rest, appeared unconquerable, and was the cause of much anxiety to Naomi. Many and fervent were the prayers she offered up at the throne of grace for her mother's support and comfort when the trying hour should arrive; and unweariedly did she endeavour to strengthen her soul with the blessed promises of God, that He will be with his people in the time of weakness, and at the hour of death.
For a time her efforts would sometimes appear successful, and Salome would recover the naturally placid expression of her countenance, but ere long the same doubts and distressing fears would arise and the same restlessness return. Then she would call on Naomi, and entreat her again to repeat the same words of consolation, and pour forth her prayers in her behalf. If Naomi was absent, her faith failed; but while she hung over her, and whispered to her the encouraging promises of Scripture, she felt calm and joyful. She was sorely tempted of Satan; but when she could wield the sword of the Spirit, and shelter herself behind the shield of faith, she was enabled to quench all his fiery darts, and baffle his reiterated attacks. There was one point on which she was very anxious, and suffered many fears; and that was whether she could be accepted by Christ as one of his children, when she had not been admitted by baptism into his visible church; and it required all Naomi's arguments to convince her that as the appointed rite was out of her power, a willing heart and obedient spirit would be as acceptable to her merciful Lord, as if she had enjoyed all the privileges and advantages of partaking in his sacraments. When the tempter was baffled at one point he harassed her at another; but "He who was on her side, was greater than all that were against her;" and he gave to Naomi the happy privilege of soothing her mother's fears and stilling her doubts. Her precious copy of the Gospel was now doubly valuable to her, since she was permitted to read it to her dying parent, and witness the peace and joy which she derived from listening to it. She grieved that Salome still enjoined her to conceal it whenever Zadok entered the house, or approached the terrace where she loved to repose during the cool evening hours; but she waited in faith and patience for the time when her timidity should cease, and she should obtain an answer to her prayers. Her tender assiduity was also engaged in daily efforts to save her mother from bodily privations, and furnish her every indulgence and comfort that her weakness required. Little food of any kind remained, and that was mostly of the coarsest description; but Naomi could look from the terrace, and behold her father's garden beyond the walls, where the ripe fruit was hanging in clusters. Could she not obtain some to cool the parched lips, and allay the feverish thirst of her mother?
She did not communicate her bold scheme to Salome, for she knew that she would forbid her attempting it; but she applied to the faithful and devoted Deborah, and with some difficulty persuaded her to consent to share the enterprise. With trembling steps these two defenceless women issued from the private gate at the back of Zadok's house, and with many a fearful glance on either side, passed rapidly down the unfrequented lane that led to the wall of the city. A sentinel was posted at the narrow gate through which she had so often passed in former days to bend her steps towards Bethany, but he was one of her father's own retainers, for the care of that entrance was committed by Simon to the priest. The man at first refused to let her pass, but at length he was moved by her entreaties, and unlocked the heavy portal, on her promise to return with the greatest speed. His life would have been forfeited if his breach of orders had been discovered; but he could not refuse the urgent request of his young mistress; and that part of the town was then almost deserted, as all the troops were engaged at the northern wall, except a few sentinels who kept watch over the movements of the tenth legion on the Mount of Olives. The garden of Zadok was extensive, and part of it reached almost to the foot of the wall which circumstance had preserved it from the destruction that had fallen on all the orchards and gardens at a greater distance. The troops also who were encamped on the opposite hill had hitherto been employed in constructing their mounds and intrenchments; and no attack had been made on the eastern side of the city. Naomi darted forward with rapid footsteps, and in a few minutes she had gathered as much fruit as her enfeebled hands could carry. Her heart beat violently with fear, but she blessed God for the treasure she had obtained, and hastily called on Him to protect her. Followed by Deborah, breathless with fear and speed, she regained the gate, which was immediately opened by the sentinel, and as speedily closed and secured. She hoped that all danger was past; but who can conceive her terror when she saw a party of Simon's men appear, who, on perceiving her, rushed towards the spot where she stood! She sprang forwards with her burden, in the hope of reaching the entrance to her father's house, and Deborah attempted to follow her; but their trembling feet were unable to save them, aid the ruffians surrounded and seized them. Naomi sank on her knees, and while the prize which she had encountered so much danger to obtain, fell on the ground, she buried her face in the folds of her garment, and implored the mercy of those wretches who knew not what mercy meant. At this moment the voice of Javan sounded in her ears, and looking up, she beheld her brother, who gazed upon her with astonishment and displeasure. He was leader of the party who had thus intercepted her return, and he had followed them more slowly when he saw them rush upon their prey. Little did he suspect that it was his sister who was thus in the power of the savage crew, until the sound of his voice caused her to raise her head, and he beheld her pale and terrified countenance. With a stern authority he commanded his men to let her go free, and they sullenly obeyed him; but it was with the angry look of a beast of prey, compelled to relinquish its intended victim at the word of its more cruel and powerful master.
Javan then raised his sister, and demanded for what cause she had ventured out, and where she had procured the fruit which lay scattered around her. He was astonished at the boldness of her enterprise, when she informed him that she had been to the garden beyond the walls, and could not refuse his admiration at the filial devotion which had prompted her to make such a perilous attempt. He conducted her to the door of Zadok's house, closely followed by the terrified Deborah, who, in spite of her alarm, had gathered up the fallen fruit that was within her reach, and bore it off amid the fierce glances of the soldiers. They did not dare to snatch it from her; but they muttered curses on their leader, who had overawed their violence and prevented their cruelty. Javan had saved his sister from the consequences of her temerity, but he determined to execute prompt vengeance on the sentinel who had permitted her to take so daring a step. He returned to his men, and seeing their looks of rage and disappointment, he commanded them to allay their thirst for blood by slaying the unfaithful sentinel. In a moment they transfixed him with their lances, and then threw his bleeding corpse at the threshold of Zadok's house, as a warning to his daughter that her excursions exposed both herself and others to peril. The ruffians then opened the gate, and rushed tumultuously out in search of those fruits which had tempted Naomi. Javan did not attempt to restrain them, for he feared to chafe their angry spirits too much, and he suffered them to gratify their love of destruction by breaking and cutting down the luxuriant trees and plants, after they had gathered the fruit. Some they carried away, but much more they trampled beneath their feet, and then returned again to the gate. Javan left two of the party to act as sentinels in the place of him whom they had slain, and led on the rest of the band to execute the business which had called for their exertions, when their attention had been diverted by the appearance of Naomi and her attendant.
Salome had been carried out to her customary place on the terrace, and was reclining there, when Naomi returned to her, paler than ever, and greatly agitated, but still with an expression of joy lighting up her countenance.
"Where have you been, my child?" asked Salome eagerly; "and why have you been so long absent? Have you been to Mary's house, and brought from her garden those beautiful grapes?"
"No, mother, Mary's garden has been long ago exhausted of all that it produced. These grapes I gathered from the vines which last summer you trained over the entrance to our own garden by the brook."
"What can you mean, Naomi! Have you ventured beyond the walls? You could not have been so rash?"
"I saw your feverish cheek and parched lip, my mother, and I saw these clustering grapes and ripe figs hanging in our own beautiful garden. Can you wonder that I should make an effort to obtain them for you?"
"Bless thee, my dearest Naomi. But the risk was too great, and you must not venture again. Did you meet no one by the way? I heard a noise of shouting and violence in the street beneath the wall."
"It was a party of Javan's soldiers," replied Naomi. "They did alarm me greatly; but the Lord preserved me, and sent my brother to deliver me out of their hands."
"Then you have indeed been exposed to danger, and for my sake, Naomi. Never, never again let your anxiety for my comfort lead you to take such a step. Rather would I bear the extremity of suffering and want, than that you should encounter the risk of meeting those lawless ruffians who are the scourge of our unhappy city. Promise me, my child, that you will not again set your foot beyond these walls, which by God's blessing have hitherto protected us from their violence."
"I shall not again be tempted by the fruitfulness of that beloved spot yonder," answered Naomi with a sigh. "Look, mother, the spoilers are there. I see them cutting down and wantonly destroying all the plants and flowers, in which we used to take so much delight. There, there they fall beneath the strokes of their swords, and the fertile garden is becoming a desert."
Naomi turned away, unwilling any longer to witness the havoc and destruction of the trees beneath whose shade she had passed the happiest hours of her childhood and youth. Just then the little David came bounding along the terrace towards her, and called away her attention by his playful caresses. He came for the daily supply of food which Naomi denied to herself that she might bestow it on him. She could not bear to see his little dimpled cheek grow pale and wan, and his bright laughing eye look dim with pining want; and to supply the deficiency of nourishment which his mother was now unable to prevent, she every day laid by a portion for her little favourite.
The house of Mary was at a very short distance from that of Zadok, and when the street was empty, the little boy used to come day by day for his accustomed meal. How joyfully he smiled when Salome beckoned him to the side of her couch, and placed in his hands a bunch of grapes that they could hardly hold! The little fellow eagerly swallowed a few of the delicious fruit, and then pausing, he exclaimed,
"I will take them to my mother; she said she was very hungry, and her cheek looked very pale when I kissed her and came away. These grapes will do her good."
"You shall take her some more, my dear boy," said Salome: "I fear she suffers much distress and want Would to God that I could relieve her."
The grateful happy child received the gift with joy, and calling his nurse, hurried back to share the unusual luxury with his mother. Mary was indeed reduced to a degree of privation and want, which her delicate and luxurious mode of life had made her quite unequal to bear with fortitude or patience. Her temper was naturally irritable and uncontrolled, and now anxiety, and fear, and distress had made her still more the slave of passion. She sat gloomy and distracted in her chamber, when her lovely boy ran towards her with childish glee, and presented his welcome offering. Mary snatched the fruit and eat it hastily. She did not look pleased, as David had expected, but she gazed wildly at him, and burst into tears.
"Why do you weep, mother?" asked the child. "I thought that you would smile and thank me, as I thanked the good Salome."
"I weep because my heart is sad," replied Mary. "The heiress of Bethezob is reduced to beggary, and her child is fed by the charity of others. O my father, if thou hadst foreseen the sufferings of thy daughter, it would have broken thy heart, which lived but in me, and the hope of my happiness. Alas! the spoiler has taken all the wealth which thou didst bequeath to me. My friends have forsaken me, my domestics despise and rob me, and I am desolate and miserable."
It was too true. Mary had lived in dissipation; and those who gladly frequented her house when they found splendour and profusion there, abandoned her when she had no longer the means of entertaining them. She had neglected the friendship of Zadok and his family; and though her child spent much of his time with them, she had seldom crossed their threshold since she had ceased to be an inmate of their house. Now that she was in distress, pride withheld her from seeking their society; and though she received from them almost all her means of subsistence, it was with a sullen and ungracious spirit. It was from the vengeance of Isaac, and the treachery of her servant Reuben, that she had suffered the loss of almost all her property. She confided blindly in the supposed integrity of Reuben, and he knew where she had concealed the most valuable of her possessions. He failed not to inform his employer Isaac of what was told to him in confidence, and ere long a band of Zealots entered and pillaged the house. It was a part of their orders to carry off the lady of Bethezob to the head-quarters of their party in the temple; but she succeeded in eluding their search, and remained free, but deprived of all that might avail to procure the necessaries of life as the scarcity and famine increased. A measure of wheat was now worth far more than its weight in gold, and the vilest rubbish was eagerly purchased at a high price by those who still had money in their possession. All the grass and herbs that could be found in the city were used as food by those who were destitute of any other means of subsistence; and many of the poorest of the people would steal out, and wander by night down the ravines, in the hope of picking up something to allay the torments of hunger. These wretched creatures would willingly have fled, and deserted to the Romans: but they hesitated to forsake their wives and children, who were sure to be cruelly murdered as soon as it was known that their husbands and fathers had left the city. Titus discovered the practice of these men, and set an ambush to surprise and take them prisoners. When they were attacked they made a vigorous resistance, but they were overpowered and carried to the camp.
For the crime of defending themselves, they were barbarously scourged and tortured, and then hung up before the walls writhing in the agony of crucifixion. Again and again others were driven by despair and famine to make the same attempt at obtaining relief, and the same dreadful fate awaited them. When morning dawned upon that ill-fated city, it often displayed to the view of the horror-stricken inhabitants as many as five hundred crosses, each supporting a tortured victim. The Roman soldiers added ridicule and insult to their cruelty, and fastened the bodies in every sort of ludicrous position, taunting and reviling the miserable beings while they expired in agony. The spots chosen for these appalling scenes were at length crowded with crosses, and wood was wanting to furnish fresh implements of torture for the prisoners who were nightly brought in. Nothing can be said to extenuate the guilt and inhumanity of these executions. They were a fearful example of heathen barbarity in the most civilized nation of that period, and by the command of one of her most enlightened generals. Titus believed that by these awful and repeated warnings he should weary the people of resistance, and convince them that it was better to throw themselves openly on his mercy; and he also feared that it would be unsafe to let them escape. In vain Marcellus pleaded with his noble commander, and besought him almost with tears of agony, to forbear this wanton infliction of death and torment. His expostulations moved the general to sympathy, but failed to make him change his cruel policy.
The effect produced on the besieged by these executions was contrary to that which Titus expected. The Zealots seized on the friends and relatives of the victims and dragging them to the walls and towers, compelled them to behold the dreadful spectacle of Roman cruelty. This checked the desertions; and none fled to the camp of the besiegers but those who preferred running the risk of immediate death rather than remaining to suffer the slower torments of hunger. Some of these were sent back into the city by Titus with their hands cut off and a message to John and Simon, exhorting them to capitulate before it was too late, and not force him to destroy both the city and the temple.
Instead of complying with this advice, John commenced undermining the embankments on which the Roman engines were placed. He carried a quantity of combustibles to the spot; and when all the machines were erected and ready to begin their attack, he set fire to the pitch and sulphur, and immediately the ground began to rock and heave as with an earthquake. Volumes of smoke and flame issued from the ground, and the embankment, with all the ponderous engines, fell into the fiery abyss. Thus the works which had cost the Romans seventeen days of constant labour were destroyed in an hour. The army were greatly discouraged at this and other losses which were effected by the desperate valour of the Jews. Titus called a council of his officers, and proposed to them that they should either storm the city immediately, repair the works and resume the siege, or else draw a complete line of circumvallation round it, and starve the garrison to surrender. The last of these plans was decided on, and immediately executed. In three days the trench and embankment were completed, and extended a distance little less than five miles.
Naomi could watch the progress of this work along the Valley of Kedron and the Mount of Olives, and with the sad reality before her eyes she remembered how the pitying Jesus had declared that "the days should come when the enemies of Jerusalem should cast a trench about her, and keep her in on every side;" and she looked for the speedy accomplishment of the remaining part of the denunciation, "and they shall lay thee even with the dust, and thy children within thee, because thou knowest not the time of thy visitation."
Salome had ceased to occupy her usual position on the terrace. Her weakness had greatly increased, and she had received a shock to her feelings the last time she had been carried out, which had almost overpowered her. She had desired to enjoy the early morning air, and watch the sun rising gloriously over the Mount of Olives, and she was borne as usual to her couch. But what was her horror on looking towards the mount, to behold the summit crowned with crosses, and to perceive that each cross was furnished with a living victim! A deadly faintness overcame her, and she was carried back to her chamber in a state of unconsciousness. When she recovered, the impression of the dreadful spectacle clung to her mind, and she could not shake it off for several days. Her weakness and exhaustion were considerably augmented by the shock, and it was evident to Naomi and her father that the beloved sufferer had not long to live.
Naomi rejoiced to perceive that as her mother's bodily powers failed, her soul was strengthened, and her desire to bear a good testimony to the grace of her Redeemer before she departed became fixed and strong. The dread of death subsided, and she looked for its approach with calmness and peace. Her only fear was now for the fate of Naomi, and though she tried to put her trust in the Lord, and commit her child to Him in confidence, she could not think of leaving her in that distracted city without grief and anxiety.
The immediate effect of the strict blockade which Titus had established was to carry the horrors of famine to their height. Whole families lay expiring together, and the streets were strewn with the bodies of the dead and dying. None wept over them—none buried them. No cry was heard in the streets, for the wretches had not strength to complain: they lay in a state of mute anguish, waiting unheeded by those whom once they loved, for the last expiring pang. The only sounds that broke the oppressive silence of that city of death, were the bands of robbers forcing open the houses in search of food and plunder, or the blows which they wantonly inflicted on the dead bodies that were scattered on every side. For some time the soldiers made an attempt at burying the corpses, as they feared their exposure might occasion a pestilence; but they soon became too numerous, and then they threw them over the walls into the trenches below. Even this precaution ceased ere long, and the whole city was poisoned with the odour as of a vast charnel-house. The way to the walls was actually choked with dead bodies; yet still the soldiers both of John and Simon went trampling over them to man the fortifications, with a desperate courage and hardened indifference.
At this time another crime was added to the awful catalogue of Zion's sins. The high-priest Matthias was slain on a pretended charge of holding a correspondence with the Romans; and the cruelty of the act was enhanced by the three sons of the venerable old man being first massacred before his eyes. This sacrilegious murder at length excited in the populace a determined resolution to shake off the tyrannical yoke under which they had so long groaned in silence. One of their number, named Judas, conspired with several others to betray one of the towers to the enemy. They made the offer of surrendering it, but the Romans had learned to be suspicious of such overtures, and hesitated to take advantage of it. While they paused the conspiracy was revealed to Simon, and instant vengeance overtook Judas and his accomplices. They were slaughtered, and their bodies cast down to those with whom they had been parleying. This plan being defeated, the wretched people again began to desert in multitudes; but their sufferings did not always end with their reaching the Roman camp, for many of the famished creatures so eagerly devoured the food which was presented to them by the soldiers that they died in agony. Others perished yet more miserably. They were suspected of having swallowed their gold and jewels before they left the city; and to obtain this wealth the Arabian and Syrian allies seized a large party of the deserters, and actually cut them open alive, and searched for the treasure.
When this inhuman proceeding reached the ears of Titus he was filled with indignation, and would have ordered his cavalry to surround and slay the murderers, but that their great numbers deterred him from such an act of justice. He however denounced death against whoever should in future be guilty of such barbarity but the love of gold was in many instances greater than the fear of detection, and the crime was not entirely prevented.
The calamities of Jerusalem were at their height. What a spectacle of God's righteous vengeance did the proud city now display! Within the walls the rival factions dyed their hands in each other's blood, and in that of their helpless countrymen; and without, the Roman camps covered the surrounding hills. The trumpets and shouts of the armed host resounded through the day, and in the darkness of night their watch-fires were seen gleaming on every side. All the pastoral beauty of the scene had departed. The summer dwellings and garden-houses of the Jewish nobles that so lately were seen among the trees, in every variety of architecture, had been levelled to the ground by the troops of Titus, and the vineyards and shady groves were swept away. The gardens had become a sandy waste, cut up in every direction by trenches and military works, in the midst of which was seen the fatal wall of Titus, effectually shutting out all hope of relief or reinforcement from the beleaguered city. Within its sad enclosure all was dark despair. The daily sacrifice had ceased, for no victims remained to offer, and the sword and famine had fearfully reduced the once crowded population. The dogs and vultures shared their dreadful meal undisturbed, for none ventured into the streets except they were compelled to do so; and then they hurried on as swiftly as possible, to avoid the spectacle of horror that surrounded them, and dreading every moment that the hand of violence would lay them by the side of the mangled corpses that strewed the way, to become the food of birds and beasts of prey, or the objects of insult to the yet more ferocious soldiery. In every street numbers of houses which had been partially destroyed by fire, were abandoned to decay, the doors and windows torn away, and in many instances the roofs fallen in, and the once splendid edifices left to be beaten by the storm and become the habitations of owls and bats. From some of the shattered tenements lights might be seen gleaming through the fissures in the walls, and showing that they were yet peopled with miserable human beings.
Among the desperate men who passed to and fro through these desolate streets were many who even yet retained that natural vividness of countenance for which their nation ever were distinguished; but it was hardened by ferocity, and the keen black eye scowled darkly, while the compressed lip spoke of desperate thoughts and the firmness of despair. Then there were hurried gatherings of these insurgents, frequently ending in fierce quarrels and murders in the open face of day, or in the sudden attack of some house that was yet deemed worth pillaging.
Men and angels might have wept to behold how deeply this city of God, this sanctuary of holiness, was sunk into misery and desolation. But oh! it was the spiritual degradation of her children that called for the deepest pity; it was the spectacle of human nature in all its own depravity, unrestrained by the fear of God or the laws of man; it was the scourge of the Almighty lighting on this rebellious people, and piercing their inmost souls—a faint representation of that eternal punishment, where those who persist in rebellion will suffer and blaspheme for ever, but repent not.
Amid all the crime and all the horror of that siege, there was one event that seemed to surpass every other, and even moved the hearts of those to whom murder was a pastime. Spies were employed by the officers of both John and Simon's party, to bring them intelligence of any provisions that they might discover in the houses of the famishing people; and one day the artful Reuben came hastily to the temple, and informed Isaac that he had observed the smell of food being cooked in the house of his former mistress. He had long ago deserted her, and only visited the house to commit fresh acts of depredation, or lead others to add to her misery, and take from her and her child the scanty pittance that she was yet able to procure. Isaac summoned a party of his chosen companions in cruelty, and hurried off to the dwelling of Mary, followed by the traitor Reuben. The door was fastened inside, but it soon yielded to the furious blows of the assailants, and they rushed on to the apartment usually occupied by the heiress of Bethezob in the days of her wealth and prosperity, and so well known to Isaac.
It was bereft of all its sumptuous furniture and rich ornaments; the repeated incursions of the robbers had left nothing that was valuable or beautiful. But she who had so often presided in that very chamber, amid a crowd of admiring guests, was there,—yet alas, how changed! Her graceful form reduced to a living skeleton, her lovely features sunk and disfigured, and all that had given a charm to her presence departed. Her eyes burnt with an almost unearthly glare, and on her cheek was a bright hectic spot, the token of fever or delirium.
She sat upon the ground, and when Isaac entered, her head was upon her knees, and her face concealed. She had not heard or heeded the noise of his violent entrance, and moved not until his footsteps on the uncovered marble pavement roused her from her painful reverie. Then she looked wildly up, and starting on her feet, exclaimed, in a hollow and hurried tone,—
"Ah, Isaac, my betrothed husband, are you come at last to claim your bride? I was fairer in those happy days when you first saw me in my pride and my beauty. But hunger and strange thoughts have worn sad ravages upon the form you used to praise."
Isaac did not reply: the memory of other scenes came over his mind, and even he was moved at the sight of the wreck of mind and body before him. Mary continued in the same wandering strain,—
"You see my apartments are not decked for our wedding, Isaac; the spoilers have taken away all my goodly furniture. But, Isaac," she added in a whisper, while she laid her wasted hand upon his arm, "I have a feast prepared—a wedding feast! Do not tell your comrades, for there is not enough for all. I have eaten and am satisfied, and I have reserved the rest for you. See here!"
FAMINE AND MADNESS.FAMINE AND MADNESS.
She drew him towards a couch at the end of the room, and raised the corner of the hangings. There he beheld the mangled body of a little child which had been roasted, and from which part of the flesh had been torn and devoured.
The bloodthirsty, the cruel Isaac drew back with a cry of horror, and a shudder passed through his powerful frame, while the blood curdled in the veins of his companions, who had followed closely, in the hope of partaking in the expected meal.
"Why do ye tremble?" cried Mary, fiercely: "his mother has eaten, and will not you? Oh! do ye say that I murdered him? my beautiful, my beloved! Did ye see me give him that last embrace, and did ye behold his sweet blue eyes as they smiled at me through their tears? I held him to my bursting heart, but the demon within me strangled him—it was not I that did it. Oh do not look so loathingly at me—it was the fiend that has so long possessed my soul. It was famine, Isaac, that drove me to it. It was better that his mother's hands should take away his life, than that her eyes should see him pine away and die for want!"
"Let me go, unnatural monster in a human form!" cried Isaac, bursting from her grasp; for she held his arm with the strength of a maniac, and fixed her fiery eyes upon him with a gaze that made his blood run cold. "Let me go, ere I plunge this dagger to thy heart."
"Oh, that would be the kindest deed that you could do for me," answered the wretched mother; "God and man have deserted me, and devils possess my soul. Here, give the fatal stroke, and end the miseries that I have no power to endure."
She sank at his feet, exhausted with her wild emotions and the effort she had made. Her eye was fixed on him, as he retreated slowly from that once radiant and joyous being, who now lay crushed beneath a load of misery and guilt. Ere he reached the door he turned again, and saw that the fire of that eye had fled, and the features were fixed in death.
Isaac and his fierce companions retraced their steps to the temple, and though they stepped unheedingly over many a livid corpse that lay in their path, yet they could not recall the dying look of the lonely heiress of Bethezob without a shudder. But the impression soon died away, and they again busily engaged in the strife and violence and ruthless war that filled the city.
For two days the scanty portion of food that Naomi was able to procure and reserve for her little favourite remained untouched; David did not appear, and she became very uneasy. She could not go out to seek him, for her father had strictly prohibited her from venturing beyond the gates of the house; and the alarm she had experienced on the day she went to the garden made her dread to expose herself to a similar danger. She waited anxiously until Zadok came home on the second evening, and then besought him to go to Mary's dwelling with some of his attendants, and ascertain whether she and her child yet lived, or whether either want or violence had put a period to their existence. Zadok was evidently distressed at her inquiries, and at length told her that they had both expired: but his manner bespoke something more than his words declared, and Naomi entreated him to inform her of all that he knew of the wayward Mary and her lovely little boy. Her father had heard the dreadful story of their death, for it had spread through the city, and caused a thrill of horror in every one who heard it; but he wished to avoid shocking the ears of his daughter with such a revolting account. Her inquiries however were so urgent, that he was compelled to own to her that David had expired by the hands of his mother, and that despair and misery had then speedily terminated her existence. More than that he did not disclose to her; but that was sufficient to fill her with grief and horror. She could not but weep at the sad fate of the engaging child in whom she had taken so much delight; and still more at the thought of the frantic state of misery to which his mother must have been reduced ere she could have committed so dreadful a deed. An asylum had been offered to Mary in the house of Zadok, when distress had first begun to be felt in the city; and though she had then rejected it with some contempt, and preferred trusting to her own resources, the offer had been renewed more than once. But Mary was too proud to accept it; she knew that her whole mode of life had ever been opposed to the purity and simplicity that marked the family of Zadok; and in the presence of Salome and her daughter she felt a restraint that was extremely irksome to her spirit. Her mind was weakened by suffering and constant privation; and she sat in her desolate house, brooding over her sorrows and fears until reason forsook her, and she was left a prey to passion and despair—an awful example of the depth of depravity to which the human mind may sink when unsupported by God's preventing grace, and a dreadful fulfilment of the worst of those woes that had been pronounced by the prophets of old on the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
Salome's feeble remains of strength were daily declining, and she blessed the Lord who was so mercifully removing her from scenes of horror that harrowed her soul. The miserable death of her relative Mary and the little David preyed upon her mind, and she passed a restless night. Zadok and Naomi had not retired to rest, though it was past midnight, when they were all startled by a tremendous crash which appeared to come from the wall beyond the temple, where the greatest part of the Roman army was posted, and where they had just completed another set of military engines to replace those which had been destroyed by the bold stratagem of John. They listened in breathless anxiety, and expected every moment to hear the shouts of the Romans and the sounds of a desperate conflict. But nothing reached their ears until the day dawned, when Zadok hastened to discover the cause of their alarm. The noise had been occasioned, as he feared, by a large portion of the wall having fallen. It had been shaken by the blows of the engines during the preceding day, and the subterranean passage which John had dug to undermine the works of the enemy passed beneath that spot. It sunk, and the massy wall fell, leaving a heap of ruins.
The Romans rushed to the breach as soon as daybreak enabled them to perceive it; but they were disappointed in their hopes of an immediate entrance, by finding that John had, with great foresight, caused a second wall to be built within, as a precaution against the event which had just occurred. This new erection was, however, of no great strength, and Titus exhorted his men to make a vigorous effort to scale it. A Syrian, named Sabinus, volunteered to attempt the perilous enterprise, and eleven others followed his example. With their shields held over their heads, they pressed forward in spite of the shower of darts, and arrows, and stones that were hurled upon them from above. Sabinus had actually reached the summit of the wall when his foot slipped, and he fell on the inside. Instantly he was surrounded, and though he rose to his knees, and made a valiant defence, he was soon overpowered and slain. Three of his followers were also killed by stones, and the remainder carried back, all severely wounded, to the camp.
But the Romans were not discouraged. Two nights after the falling of the wall, Marcellus resolved to make a second effort to scale the breach and wall. His heart was wrung with agony at the protracted sufferings of the wretched Jews, and it died within him when he thought what might already have been the fate of Naomi. The only chance which seemed to remain of rescuing her, or any of her countrymen, from destruction, was for the besiegers to gain an entrance into the city ere famine and strife had completed the work of death that was going on within the walls. Twenty of the soldiers of the guard consented to follow him, with a standard-bearer and a trumpeter. He was also accompanied by his valiant father, who gloried in his son's intrepidity, and insisted on sharing the enterprise. Soon after midnight they passed silently through the ruins and reached the wall. They mounted it undiscovered by the guard, who had fallen asleep overpowered with fatigue. They were instantly slain, and then Marcellus commanded the trumpeter to sound a loud and stirring blast from the wall which was already gained. The sound aroused the other sentinels, and those appointed to guard the wall. They saw that the enemy had surprised them, but they knew not that the party was so small, and in a momentary panic they fled.
Titus also heard the victorious sound of the trumpet, and the shout of the triumphant band. He hastily summoned his officers and a strong party of soldiers, and hurried to the wall, where by the light of torches he saw his gallant young friend and his veteran father standing on the wall, where they had planted the standard of Rome. Marcellus informed him that the Jews had fled, and Titus with his troops succeeded in surmounting the wall and scaling the tower of Antonia before the affrighted Jews made any attempt to oppose them. They fled to the temple when they saw the enemy entering the tower, while numbers of the Romans gained access to the street below, by means of the opening into the subterranean passages that had been made by John underneath the wall, the entrance to which was now abandoned by the besieged.
The Romans passed through the deserted Antonia, and made a furious attack on the temple; but here they met with a determined resistance from the followers of John, while Simon's party hastened to join them, and both factions united in their efforts to repulse the enemy and drive them back to the tower. Neither party gained any great advantage with their swords and spears, but at length the Jews came out and met their assailants sword in hand. Then the narrow passages were soon crowded with the dead and wounded, and the soldiers climbed over heaps of bodies to rush upon their antagonists. Ten hours did this deadly conflict last; when Titus finding it was impossible to force his way into the temple, withdrew his men, well satisfied with having gained possession of the fortress of Antonia. He loaded Marcellus with grateful praises for his gallant and most successful enterprise, and desired him to name his own reward, when the young Roman immediately demanded that when the city was taken, Zadok and his family should be spared; and requested Titus to give strict orders throughout the army that his house should be respected and left in undisturbed security, until the inhabitants could be removed to a place of safety.
Titus readily acceded to this request, and the situation of the priest's dwelling was carefully described to the troops, who were commanded not to enter it on pain of instant death.
It was early in the month of July when the Antonia was taken. Titus gave orders that the magnificent tower should be razed to the ground, and an easy ascent made for his whole army to march up the hill on which it was built. He then resolved to make one more attempt at persuading the obstinate insurgents to surrender or to meet him in open battle, by appealing to their religious feelings, which he believed yet to exist in undiminished force. He knew that it was a day appointed in the Jewish law for a great sacrifice; but no victims remained to be offered, and the people feared to enter the temple. He therefore sent Josephus to speak with John, and offer him a free egress from the sacred edifice, if he would come forth and fight, and thus save the temple from pollution. Josephus having placed himself in a secure situation, delivered the message to John, and further besought him to spare his country, and not to cause the most holy sanctuary to be destroyed by fire, which the Romans were ready to apply to it. Some of the Jews were moved by his address, which John perceiving, immediately replied to him with many insulting words: and told him that he never entertained the slightest fear of the temple being injured, as it was the dwelling-place of Jehovah, and He would protect it. He then cursed the renegade Jew for his cowardice and treachery, and while Josephus with tears and sobs endeavoured to make an impression on his countrymen, John sent out a party of men to seize upon him, and bring him into the temple. In this he was, however disappointed, for Josephus escaped, and rejoined the Romans in safety.