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.