[Illustration: NEHEMIAH'S MIDNIGHT SURVEY.]
THE
KING'S CUP-BEARER
By
MRS. O.F. WALTON
Author of 'Christie's Old Organ,' 'A Peep Behind the Scenes,'
'Elisha, the Man of Abd-Meholah'
CONTENTS.
* * * * *
CHAP.
I. THE CITY OF LILIES
II. THE KING'S TABLE
III. THE GOOD HAND
IV. TO EVERY MAN HIS WORK
V. THE SWORD AND THE TROWEL
VI. THE WORLD'S BIBLE
VII. TRUE TO HIS POST
VIII. THE PAIDAGOGOS
IX. THE SECRET OF STRENGTH
X. THE EIGHTY-FOUR SEALS
XI. THE BRAVE VOLUNTEERS
XII. THE HOLY CITY
XIII. HAVING NO ROOT
XIV. STRONG MEASURES
XV. THE OLDEST SIN
XVI. GOD'S REMEMBRANCE
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE PALACE AT PERSEPOLIS.]
THE KING'S CUP-BEARER
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
The City of Lilies.
The great Rab-shakeh, magnificently attired in all the brilliancy of
Oriental costume, is walking towards the city gate. Above him stretches
the deep blue sky of the East, about and around him stream the warm rays
of the sun. It is the month of December, yet no cold biting wind meets
him, and he needs no warm wraps to shield him from the frost or snow.
The city through which the Rab-shakeh walks is very beautiful; it is the
capital of the kingdom of Persia. Its name is Shushan, the City of
Lilies, and it is so called from the fields of sweet-scented iris
flowers which surround it. It is built on a sunny plain, through which
flow two rivers,--the Choaspes and the Ulai; he sees them both sparkling
in the sunshine, as they wind through the green plain, sometimes flowing
quite close to each other, at one time so near that only two and a half
miles lie between them, then wandering farther away only to return
again, as if drawn together by some subtle attraction.
Then, in the distance, beyond the plain and beyond the rivers, the
great Rab-shakeh sees mountains, for a high mountain range, about
twenty-five miles from the city, bounds the eastern horizon. He has good
reason to love those high mountains, which rise many thousands of feet
above the plain, for even in the hottest weather, when the heat in
Shushan would otherwise be unbearable, he can always enjoy the cooling
breezes which come from the everlasting snow-fields on the top of that
mountain range, and which blow refreshingly over the sultry plain
beneath.
The City of Lilies is a very ancient place. It was probably built
long before the time of Abraham. We read in Gen. xiv. of a certain
Chedorlaomer, King of Elam, who gathered together a number of
neighbouring kings, and by means of their assistance invaded Palestine,
and took Lot prisoner. This Chedorlaomer probably lived by these very
rivers, the Choaspes and the Ulai, and Shushan was the capital city of
the old kingdom of Elam over which he ruled.
Later on the City of Lilies was taken by the Babylonians. They had their
own capital city, the mighty Babylon, on the Euphrates. But although it
was not the capital, still Shushan was a very important place in that
first great world-empire. We find Daniel, the prime minister, staying in
the palace of Shushan, to which he had been sent to transact business
for the King of Babylon, and it was during his visit to the City of
Lilies that God sent him one of his most famous visions. In his dream he
thought he was standing by the river Ulai, the very river he could see
from the palace window, and before that river stood the ram with the two
horns and the strong he-goat, by means of which God drew out before his
eyes a picture of the future history of the world.
But the great Babylonian empire did not last long. Cyrus the Persian
took Babylon, Belshazzar was slain, the great Assyrian power passed
away, and the second great world-empire, the Persian empire, was built
upon its ruins.
What city did the Persian kings make their capital? Not Babylon, with
its mighty walls and massive gates, but Shushan, the City of Lilies.
They chose it as their chief city for three reasons; it was nearer to
their old home, Persia, it was cooler than Babylon because of the
neighbouring mountains, and lastly, and above all, it had the best water
in the world. The water of the river Choaspes was so much esteemed for
its freshness, its clearness, and its salubrity, that the Persian kings
would drink no other; they had it carried with them wherever they went;
even when they undertook long warlike expeditions, the water of the
Choaspes was considered a necessary provision for the journey.
The City of Lilies, in the days of the Rab-shakeh, was a perfect
fairy-land of beauty, surrounded as it was by fruit-gardens and
corn-fields; the white houses standing out from amongst dark palm trees,
and the high walls encircled by groves of citron and lemon trees. As the
Rab-shakeh walks along the air is scented with their blossoms, and with
the sweet fragrance of the countless Shushan lilies, growing beside the
margin of the sparkling rivers.
Above him, in the midst of the city, stands his lordly home. It may well
be a magnificent place, for it is the palace of the greatest king in the
world, the mighty King of Persia. The palace in which the Rab-shakeh
lives is not the old palace in which Daniel stayed when he visited
Shushan; it is quite a new building, built only forty years before by
the great Ahasuerus, the husband of Queen Esther. It was to celebrate
the opening of this gigantic palace that the enormous and magnificent
feast of which we read in Esther i., was given by the Persian monarch,
who was its founder.
This new palace was built on a high platform of stone and brick, and the
view from its windows of the green plain, of the shining rivers, of the
gardens filled with fruit trees and flowers, and of the snow-clad
mountains in the distance, was magnificent in the extreme. In the centre
of the palace was a large hall filled with pillars, one of the finest
buildings in the world, and round this hall were built the grand
reception rooms of the king.
The ruins of Shushan, the City of Lilies, were discovered by Sir Fenwick
Williams in the year 1851, and the bases of the very pillars which
supported the roof of the great Rab-shakeh's splendid home may be seen
this very day on the plain between the two rivers.
But who was this Rab-shakeh, and how came he to live in the most
glorious palace in the world? He was a Jew, a foreigner, a descendant of
those Jews whom Nebuchadnezzar took captive, and carried into Assyria.
Yet, although one of an alien race, we find him in one of the highest
offices of the Persian court, namely, the office of Rab-shakeh.
This word Rab, so often found in the Bible, is a Chaldean word which
means Master. Thus, in the New Testament, we find the Jewish teachers
often addressed by the title Rabbi, Master. But the title Rab was also
used in speaking of the highest officials in an Eastern court. Three
such titles we find in the Bible:
Jer. xxxix. 13. RAB-SARIS, Master of the Eunuchs.
Jer. xxxix. 13. RAB-MAG, Master of the Magi.
2 Kings xviii. 17. RAB-SHAKEH, Master of the Cup-bearers.
This last office, that of Rab-shakeh, was a very important and
responsible one. It was the duty of the man who held it to take charge
of the king's wine, to ensure that no poison was put into it, and to
present it in a jewelled cup to the king at the royal banquets. It was a
position of great trust and power; great trust, because the king's life
rested in the cup-bearer's keeping; great power, because whilst the
Persian monarchs, believing that familiarity breeds contempt, kept
themselves secluded from the public gaze, and admitted very few to their
august presence, the cup-bearer had access at all times to the king, and
had the opportunity of speaking to him which was denied to others.
Strange that a Jew, one of a captive race, should be chosen to fill so
important a post. But King Artaxerxes knew his man. He felt he could
trust him fully, and he was not disappointed in his confidence, for the
great Rab-shakeh served a higher Master than the King of Persia, he was
a faithful servant of the God of Heaven.
The Rab-shakeh's name was Nehemiah, a name chosen by his parents, not as
a fancy name or as a family name, but chosen for the same reason which
usually influenced Jewish parents in the selection of names for their
children, because of its beautiful meaning. Nehemiah meant _The Lord my
Comforter_.
What a sweet thought for Hachaliah and his wife as they called their
boy in from play, or as they put him in his little bed and took leave
of him for the night, '_The Lord is my Comforter_.' Life in sunny
Shushan was surely no brighter than life in our more clouded land; they
had their times of sorrow as well as their times of joy, they had their
temptations, their cares, their anxieties, and their trials, just as we
have. How blessed for them in one and all of these to be reminded where
true comfort was to be found, so that they might turn to God in every
time of grief with the name of their little son on their lips, 'The Lord
is my Comforter.'
What do _we_ know of Nehemiah? Can we say from our heart, 'The Lord
is _my_ Comforter?' I take Him my every sorrow, I tell Him my every
trouble. He understands it, and He understands me, and He comforts me as
no other can. The Lord is indeed my Comforter.
So the little Nehemiah had grown up an ever-present reminder in his
parents' home of the comfort of God.
How many children Hachaliah had we are not told, but Nehemiah had
certainly one brother, Hanani. There had been some years before this a
parting in Hachaliah's family. Hanani, Nehemiah's brother, had left
Shushan for a distant land. Twelve years had passed since all the Jews
in Shushan had been roused by the news that Ezra the scribe was going
from Babylon to Jerusalem, and that he was calling upon all who loved
the home of their forefathers to go with him, and to help him in the
work he had undertaken. Bad news had been brought to Babylon of the
state of matters in Palestine; those who had returned with Zerubbabel
were not prospering, either in their souls or their bodies, and Ezra,
shocked by what he had heard, determined to go to Jerusalem that he
might reform the abuses which had arisen there, and do all in his power
to rouse the people to a sense of their duty. A brave company had set
forth with him. Eight thousand Jews had been ready to leave comfort,
luxury, and affluence behind, that they might go to the desolate city,
and endeavour to stir up its people to energy and life.
One of the 8,000 who went with Ezra was Nehemiah's brother, Hanani. It
is possible that Nehemiah himself was at that time too young to go; it
is also probable that Hachaliah, the father, having been born and
brought up in Shushan, was hard to move. So Hanani set forth alone, and
the brothers were parted.
Twelve long years, and in all probability no news had reached the family
in Shushan of the absent Hanani. A journey of five months lay between
them and Jerusalem; and in those days, when all the conveniences we
enjoy were unknown, they would not only never expect to meet again, but
they would also never anticipate the pleasure of even hearing any news
of each other, or of holding the slightest communication.
But as the Rab-shakeh walks to the gate of Shushan, on the day on which
the story opens, he spies a caravan of travellers coming along the
northern road. They have evidently come a long way, for they are tired,
exhausted, and travel-stained. The mules walk slowly and heavily under
their burdens, the skin of the travellers is burnt and cracked by the
hot sun of the desert, their clothes are faded and covered with dust,
their sandals are full of holes.
Where can the caravan have come from? Nehemiah finds to his astonishment
that it has come from Jerusalem, the city of cities, as he had been
taught to believe it, and, to his still greater surprise, he finds
amongst the travellers his long-lost brother Hanani. What had brought
Hanani back from Jerusalem we are not told; he may have wished once more
to see his old father Hachaliah; but we can well imagine the joy with
which he would be welcomed by all, and not the least by his brother
Nehemiah.
As they walk together through Shushan to the palace, the Rab-shakeh asks
anxiously after Jerusalem. Has Ezra's work been successful? How are
matters progressing? Are the people more in earnest? Is Jerusalem
thriving?
But the travellers have a dismal tale to tell. Affairs in the Holy City
are about as bad as it was possible for them to be.
Neh. i. 3: 'They said unto me, The remnant that are left of the
captivity there in the province are in great affliction and reproach:
the wall of Jerusalem also is broken down, and the gates thereof are
burned with fire.'
In other words, things are just where they were twelve years ago; the
people are miserable and depressed, beset with countless troubles; the
city itself is still an utter ruin, just as Nebuchadnezzar left it. The
temple, it is true, is built at last, but nothing more is done; the
walls lie just as they were when the city was taken,--a mass of ruins;
the gates are nowhere to be seen, only a few blackened stones mark the
place where they used to stand.
The Rab-shakeh's heart is very heavy as he goes to his rooms in the
royal palace. What terrible news he has heard! Jerusalem is still,
after all Ezra's efforts to restore it, a desolate ruined city. Nehemiah
is full of sorrow, sick at heart, overwhelmed with disappointment and
trouble.
But he remembers his own name and its warning, Nehemiah, _The Lord is
my Comforter_. At once, without a moment's delay, he goes to his
Comforter. He weeps, he mourns, he fasts, and he pours out all his sorrow
to God. As a child runs to his mother, and pours into her ear his grief
or his disappointment, so Nehemiah hastens to his God.
We walk through a splendid conservatory, the pride and glory of a
nobleman's garden; we admire the flowers of all shades of colour; rare
blossoms from all parts of the world, ferns of every variety, palms, and
grasses, and mosses, and all manner of natural beauties meet our eye at
every turn. What is that plant standing in a conspicuous place in the
conservatory? It is a beautiful azalea, covered with hundreds of pure
white blossoms. But there is so much else to see in that conservatory
that we scarcely notice it as we pass by. Nor are we at all surprised to
see it there; it is just the very place in which we should look for such
a plant. Nor are we astonished to find it so flourishing and so full of
bloom, for we know that everything in that conservatory is calculated to
improve its growth, the atmosphere is just what it should be, not too
dry or too damp, it has exactly the right soil, the proper amount of
light, the most carefully regulated heat; it has in fact everything
which it ought to have to make it a flourishing and beautiful plant.
Accordingly we are not surprised to find it full of bloom and beauty.
But suppose, on the other hand, that walking through the slums of
London we see a similar sight. In one of the closest, most filthy courts
we see, in a garret window, a white azalea full of flowers, pure as the
untrodden snow.
Now indeed we are surprised to see it, for it is in the most unlikely
place; there is nothing to favour its growth, the air is foul, the light
is dim, everything is against it, yet there it stands, a marvel of
beauty! And we look at it and say, 'Wonderful!'
Surely we have even now seen the white azalea in the garret. For where
should we expect to find a man of God? Dwelling in the holy temple in
Jerusalem, surrounded by everything to remind him of God breathing in
the very atmosphere of religion, with godly people all around him, with
everything to help him to be holy and pure, no one would be astonished
to find a man of God in such a place as that.
But here is Nehemiah the Rab-shakeh, living in a heathen palace, in the
midst of a wicked court, surrounded by drunkenness, sensuality, and all
that is vile and impure, breathing in the very atmosphere of sin, yet we
find him a plant of the Lord, pure as the azalea, a man of faith, a man
of prayer, a holy man of God. With everything against him, with nothing
to favour his growth in holiness, he is a flourishing plant in the
garden of the Lord. So it ever is. The plants of God's grace often
thrive in very unlikely places. There was a holy Joseph in the court of
Pharaoh, a faithful Obadiah in the house of wicked Jezebel, a righteous
Daniel in Babylon, and saints even in Caesar's household.
Are we ever tempted to say, I cannot serve the Master faithfully? If I
were in another position, if my home life were favourable to my becoming
decided for Christ, if I had different companions, different occupation,
different surroundings, then indeed I would grow in grace, and bring
forth the fruit of a holy life. But as I am, and where I am, it is a
simple impossibility; I can never, under existing circumstances, live
near to God, or be what I often long to be, a true Christian.
What does the Master say as He hears words like these? 'My grace is
sufficient for thee.' 'As thy day so shall thy strength be.'
Even in most unlikely and unfruitful soil God can make His plants to
grow and flourish. Where I am, and as I am, and with exactly the same
surroundings as I now possess, God can bless me, and give me grace to
serve and to glorify Him. If I do not become a flourishing plant, it is
not my position that is to blame, it is because I will not seek that
grace which the Lord is ready to give me. 'Ye have not, because ye ask
not. Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.'