The larger portion of the Amalekites had perished or lay wounded on the
battle-field. Joshua knew that the other desert tribes, according to
their custom, would abandon their defeated companions and return to
their own homes.
Yet it seemed probable that despair would give the routed warriors
courage not to let their oasis fall into the hands of the Hebrews
without striking a blow.
But Joshua’s warriors were too much exhausted for it to be possible to
lead them onward at once.
He himself was bleeding from several slight wounds, and the exertions
of the last few days were making themselves felt even on his hardened
frame.
Besides the sun, which when the battle began had just risen, was already
sinking to rest and should it prove necessary to force an entrance into
the oasis it was not advisable to fight in darkness.
What he and still more his brave warriors needed was rest until the grey
dawn of early morning.
He saw around him only glad faces, radiant with proud self-reliance, and
as he commanded the troops to disband, in order to celebrate the victory
in the camp with their relatives, each body that filed slowly and
wearily past him burst into cheers as fresh and resonant as though they
had forgotten the exhaustion which so short a time before had bowed
every head and burdened every foot.
“Hail to Joshua! Hail to the victor!” still echoed from the cliffs after
the last band had disappeared from his gaze. But far more distinctly the
words with which Moses had thanked him rang in his soul. They were:
“Thou bast proved thyself a true sword of the Most High, strong and
steadfast. So long as the Lord is thy help and Jehovah is our standard,
we need fear no foes.”
He fancied he still felt on his brow and hair the kiss of the mighty
man of God who had clasped him to his breast in the presence of all the
people, and it was no small thing to master the excitement which the
close of this momentous day awakened in him.
A strong desire to regain perfect self-possession ere he again mingled
in the jubilant throng and met his father, who shared every lofty
emotion that stirred his own soul, detained him on the battle-field.
It was a scene where dread and horror reigned; for all save himself who
lingered there were held by death or severe wounds.
The ravens which had followed the wanderers hovered above the corpses
and already ventured to swoop nearer to the richly-spread banquet. The
scent of blood had lured the beasts of prey from the mountains and dens
in the rocks and their roaring and greedy growling were heard in all
directions.
As darkness followed dusk lights began to flit over the blood-soaked
ground. These were to aid the slaves and those who missed a relative to
distinguish friend from foe, the wounded from the dead; and many a groan
from the breast of some sorely-wounded man mingled with the croaking of
the sable birds, and the howls of the hungry jackals and hyenas, foxes
and panthers.
But Joshua was familiar with the horrors of the battle-field and did not
heed them.
Leaning against a rock, he saw the same stars rise which had shone upon
him before the tent in the camp at Tanis, when in the sorest conflict
with himself he confronted the most difficult decision of his life.
A month had passed since then, yet that brief span of time had witnessed
an unprecedented transformation of his whole inner and outward life.
What had seemed to him grand, lofty, and worthy of the exertion of all
his strength on that night when he sat before the tent where lay the
delirious Ephraim, to-day lay far behind him as idle and worthless.
He no longer cared for the honors, dignities and riches which the will
of the whimsical, weak king of a foreign people could bestow upon him.
What to him was the well-ordered and disciplined army, among whose
leaders be had numbered himself with such joyous pride?
He could scarcely realize that there had been a time when he aspired
to nothing higher than to command more and still more thousands of
Egyptians, when his heart had swelled at the bestowal of a new title
or glittering badge of honor by those whom he held most unworthy of his
esteem.
From the Egyptians he had expected everything, from his own people
nothing.
That very night before his tent the great mass of the men of his
own blood had been repulsive to him as pitiful slaves languishing in
dishonorable, servile toil. Even the better classes he had arrogantly
patronized; for they were but shepherds and as such contemptible to the
Egyptians, whose opinions he shared.
His own father was also the owner of herds and, though he held him in
high esteem, it was in spite of his position and only because his whole
character commanded reverence; because the superb old man’s fiery vigor
won love from every one, and above all from him, his grateful son.
He had never ceased to gladly acknowledge his kinship to him, but
in other respects he had striven to so bear himself among his
brothers-in-arms that they should forget his origin and regard him in
everything as one of themselves. His ancestress Asenath, the wife of
Joseph, had been an Egyptian and he had boasted of the fact.
And now,--to-day?
He would have made any one feel the weight of his wrath who reproached
him with being an Egyptian; and what at the last new moon he would
only too willingly have cast aside and concealed, as though it were a
disgrace, made him on the night of the next new moon whose stars were
just beginning to shine, raise his head with joyous pride.
What a lofty emotion it was to feel himself with just complacency the
man he really was!
His life and deeds as an Egyptian chief now seemed like a perpetual lie,
a constant desertion of his ideal.
His truthful nature exulted in the consciousness that the base denial
and concealment of his birth was at an end.
With joyous gratitude he felt that he was one of the people whom the
Most High preferred to all others, that he belonged to a community,
whose humblest members, nay even the children, could raise their
hands in prayer to the God whom the loftiest minds among the Egyptians
surrounded with the barriers of secrecy, because they considered their
people too feeble and dull of intellect to stand before His mighty
grandeur and comprehend it.
And this one sole God, before whom all the whole motley world of
Egyptian divinities sank into insignificance, had chosen him, the son
of Nun, from among the thousands of his race to be the champion and
defender of His chosen people and bestowed on him a name that assured
him of His aid.
No man, he thought, had ever had a loftier aim than, obedient to his God
and under His protection, to devote his blood and life to the service of
his own people. His black eyes sparkled more brightly and joyously as he
thought of it. His heart seemed too small to contain all the love with
which he wished to make amends to his brothers for his sins against them
in former years.
True, he had lost to another a grand and noble woman whom he had
hoped to make his own; but this did not in the least sadden the joyous
enthusiasm of his soul; for he had long ceased to desire her as his
wife, high as her image still stood in his mind. He now thought of her
with quiet gratitude only; for he willingly admitted that his new life
had begun on the decisive night when Miriam set him the example of
sacrificing everything, even the dearest object of love, to God and the
people.
Miriam’s sins against him were effaced from his memory; for he was wont
to forget what he had forgiven. Now he felt only the grandeur of what he
owed her. Like a magnificent tree, towering skyward on the frontier of
two hostile countries, she stood between his past and his present life.
Though love was buried, he and Miriam could never cease to walk hand in
hand over the same road toward the same destination.
As he again surveyed the events of the past, he could truly say that
under his leadership pitiful bondmen had speedily become brave warriors
In the field they had been willing and obedient and, after the victory,
behaved with manliness. And they could not fail to improve with each
fresh success. To-day it seemed to him not only desirable, but quite
possible, to win in battle at their head a land which they could love
and where, in freedom and prosperity, they could become the able men he
desired to make them.
Amid the horrors of the battle-field in the moonless night joy as bright
as day entered his heart and with the low exclamation: “God and my
people!” and a grateful glance upward to the starry firmament he left
the corpse-strewn valley of death like a conqueror walking over palms
and flowers scattered by a grateful people on the path of victory.
CONCLUSION.
There was an active stir in the camp.
Fires surrounded by groups of happy human beings were burning in front
of the tents, and many a beast was slain, here as a thank-offering,
yonder for the festal supper.
Wherever Joshua appeared glad cheers greeted him; but he did not find
his father, for the latter had accepted an invitation from Hur, so it
was before the prince of Judah’s tent that the son embraced the old man,
who was radiant with grateful joy.
Ere Joshua sat down Hur beckoned him aside, ordered a slave who had just
killed a calf to divide it into two pieces and pointing to it, said:
“You have accomplished great deeds for the people and for me, son of
Nun, and my life is too short for the gratitude which is your due from
my wife and myself. If you can forget the bitter words which clouded our
peace at Dophkah--and you say you have done so--let us in future keep
together like brothers and stand by each other in joy and grief, in need
and peril. The chief command henceforth belongs to you alone, Joshua,
and to no other, and this is a source of joy to the whole people, above
all to my wife and to me. So if you share my wish to form a brotherhood,
walk with me, according to the custom of our fathers, between the halves
of this slaughtered animal.”
Joshua willingly accepted this invitation, and Miriam was the first to
join in the loud acclamations of approval commenced by the grey-haired
Nun. She did so with eager zeal; for it was she who had inspired her
husband, before whom she had humbled herself, and whose love she now
once more possessed, with the idea of inviting Joshua to the alliance
both had now concluded.
This had not been difficult for her; for the two vows she had made after
the son of Nun, whom she now gladly called “Joshua,” had saved her from
the hand of the foe were already approaching fulfilment, and she felt
that she had resolved upon them in a happy hour.
The new and pleasant sensation of being a woman, like any other woman,
lent her whole nature a gentleness hitherto foreign to it, and this
retained the love of the husband whose full value she had learned to
know during the sad time in which he had shut his heart against her.
In the self-same hour which made Hur and Joshua brothers, a pair of
faithful lovers who had been sundered by sacred duties were once more
united; for while the friends were still feasting before the tent of
Hur, three of the people asked permission to speak to Nun, their
master. These were the old freedwoman, who had remained in Tanis, her
granddaughter Hogla and Assir, the latter’s betrothed husband, from whom
the girl had parted to nurse her grandparents.
Hoary Eliab had soon died, and the grandmother and Hogla--the former
on the old man’s ass--had followed the Hebrews amid unspeakable
difficulties.
Nun welcomed the faithful couple with joy and gave Hogla to Assir for
his wife.
So this blood-stained day had brought blessings to many, yet it was to
end with a shrill discord.
While the fires in the camp were burning, loud voices were heard, and
during the whole journey not an evening had passed without strife and
sanguinary quarrels.
Wounds and fatal blows had often been given when an offended man
revenged himself on his enemy, or a dishonest one seized the property of
others or denied the obligations he had sworn to fulfil.
In such cases it had been difficult to restore peace and call the
criminals to account; for the refractory refused to recognize any one
as judge. Whoever felt himself injured banded with others, and strove to
obtain justice by force.
On that festal evening Hur and his guests at first failed to notice the
uproar to which every one was accustomed. But when close at hand, amid
the fiercest yells, a bright glare of light arose, the chiefs began
to fear for the safety of the camp, and rising to put an end to the
disturbance, they became witnesses of a scene which filled some with
wrath and horror, and the others with grief.
The rapture of victory had intoxicated the multitude.
They longed to express their gratitude to the deity, and in vivid
remembrance of the cruel worship of their home, a band of Phoenicians
among the strangers had kindled a huge fire to their Moloch and were
in the act of hurling into the flames several Amalekite captives as the
most welcome sacrifice to their god.
Close beside it the Israelites had erected on a tall wooden pillar a
clay image of the Egyptian god Seth, which one of his Hebrew worshippers
had brought with him to protect himself and his family.
Directly after their return to the camp Aaron had assembled the people
to sing hymns of praise and offer prayers of thanksgiving; but to many
the necessity of beholding, in the old-fashioned way, an image of the
god to whom they were to uplift their souls, had been so strong that the
mere sight of the clay idol had sufficed to bring them to their knees,
and turn them from the true God.
At the sight of the servants of Moloch, who were already binding the
human victims to hurl them into the flames, Joshua was seized with
wrath and, when the deluded men resisted, he ordered the trumpets to
be sounded and with his young men who blindly obeyed him and were by no
means friendly to the strangers, drove them back, without bloodshed, to
their quarters in the camp.
The impressive warnings of old Nun, Hur, and Naashon diverted the
Hebrews from the crime which ingratitude made doubly culpable. Yet many
of the latter found it hard to control themselves when the fiery old man
shattered the idol which was dear to them, and had it not been for the
love cherished for him, his son, and his grandson, and the respect
due his snow-white hair, many a hand would doubtless have been raised
against him.
Moses had retired to a solitary place, as was his wont after every great
danger from which the mercy of the Most High brought deliverance, and
tears filled Miriam’s eyes as she thought of the grief which the tidings
of such apostasy and ingratitude would cause her noble brother.
A gloomy shadow had also darkened Joshua’s joyous confidence. He lay
sleepless on the mat in his father’s tent, reviewing the past.
His warrior-soul was elevated by the thought that a single, omnipotent,
never-erring Power guided the universe and the lives of men and exacted
implicit obedience from the whole creation. Every glance at nature and
life showed him that everything depended upon One infinitely great and
powerful Being, at whose sign all creatures rose, moved, or sank to
rest.
To him, the chief of a little army, his God was the highest and most
far-sighted of rulers, the only One, who was always certain of victory.
What a crime it was to offend such a Lord and repay His benefits with
apostasy!
Yet the people had committed before his eyes this heinous sin and, as
he recalled to mind the events which had compelled him to interpose, the
question arose how they were to be protected from the wrath of the
Most High, how the eyes of the dull multitude could be opened to His
wonderful grandeur, which expanded the heart and the soul.
But he found no answer, saw no expedient, when he reflected upon the
lawlessness and rebellion in the camp, which threatened to be fatal to
his people.
He had succeeded in making his soldiers obedient. As soon as the
trumpets summoned them, and he himself in full armor appeared at the
head of his men, they yielded their own obstinate wills to his. Was
there then nothing that could keep them, during peaceful daily life,
within the bounds which in Egypt secured the existence of the meanest
and weakest human beings and protected them from the attacks of those
who were bolder and stronger?
Amid such reflections he remained awake until early morning; when the
stars set, he started up, ordered the trumpets to be sounded, and as on
the preceding days, the new-made troops assembled without opposition and
in full force.
He was soon marching at their head through the narrow, rocky valley, and
after moving silently an hour through the gloom the warriors enjoyed the
refreshing coolness which precedes the young day.
Then the grey light of early dawn glimmered in the east, the sky began
to brighten, and in the glowing splendor of the blushing morning rose
solemnly in giant majesty the form of the sacred mountain.
Close at hand and distinctly visible it towered before the Hebrews with
its brown masses of rock, cliffs, and chasms, while above the seven
peaks of its summit hovered a pair of eagles on whose broad pinions the
young day cast a shimmering golden glow.
A thrill of pious awe made the whole band halt as they had before Alush,
and every man, from the first rank to the last, in mute devotion raised
his hands to pray.
Then they moved on with hearts uplifted, and one shouted joyously to
another as some pretty dark birds flew twittering toward them, a sign of
the neighborhood of fresh water.
They had scarcely marched half an hour longer when they beheld the
bluish-green foliage of tamarisk bushes and the towering palm-trees;
at last, the most welcome of all sounds in the wilderness fell on their
listening ears--the ripple of flowing water.
This cheered their hearts, and the majestic spectacle of Mount Sinai,
whose heaven-touching summit was now concealed by a veil of blue mist,
filled with devout amazement the souls of the men who had grown up on
the flat plains of Goshen.
[The mountain known at the present day as Serbal, not the Sinai of
the monks which in our opinion was first declared in the reign of
Justinian to be the mount whence the laws were given. The detailed
reasons for our opinion that Serbal is the Sinai of the Scriptures,
which Lepsius expressed before its and others share with us may be
found in our works: “Durch Gosen zum Sinai, aus dem Wanderbuch and
der Bibliothek.” 2 Aufl. Leipzig. 1882. Wilh. Engelmann.]
They pressed cautiously forward; for the remainder of the defeated
Amalekites might be lying in ambush. But no foe was seen or heard, and
the Hebrews found some tokens of the thirst for vengeance of the sons of
the wilderness in their ruined houses, the superb palm-trees felled, and
little gardens destroyed. It was necessary now to remove from the road
the slender trunks with their huge leafy crowns, that they might not
impede the progress of the people; and, when this work was done, Joshua
ascended through a ravine which led to the brook in the valley, up to
the first terrace of the mountain, that he might gaze around him far and
near for a view of the enemy.
The steep pathway led past masses of red granite, intersected by veins
of greenish diorite, until he reached a level plateau high above the
oasis, where, beside a clear spring, green bushes and delicate mountain
flowers adorned the barren wilderness.
Here he intended to rest and, as he gazed around him, he perceived in
the shadow of an overhanging cliff a man’s tall figure.
It was Moses.
The flight of his thoughts had rapt him so far away from the present and
his surroundings, that he did not perceive Joshua’s approach, and the
latter was restrained by respectful awe from approaching the man of God.
He waited patiently till the latter raised his bearded face and greeted
him with friendly dignity.
Then they gazed together at the oasis and the desolate stony valleys of
the mountain region at their feet. The emerald waters of a small portion
of the Red Sea, which washed the western slope of the mountain, also
glittered beneath them.
Meanwhile they talked of the people and the greatness and omnipotence
of the God who had so wonderfully guided them, and as they looked
northward, they beheld the endlessly long stream of Hebrews, which,
following the curves of the rocky valley, was surging slowly toward the
oasis.
Then Joshua opened his heart to the man of God and told him the
questions he had asked himself during the past sleepless night, and to
which he had found no answer. The latter listened quietly, and in deep,
faltering tones answered in broken sentences:
“The lawlessness in the camp--ay, it is ruining the people! But the Lord
placed the power to destroy it in our hands. Woe betide him who resists.
They must feel this power, which is as sublime as yonder mountain, as
immovable as its solid rock.”
Then Moses’ wrathful words ceased.
After both had gazed silently into vacancy a long time, Joshua broke the
silence by asking:
“And what is the name of this power?”
Loudly and firmly from the bearded lips of the man of God rang the
words; “THE LAW!”
He pointed with his staff to the summit of the mountain.
Then, waving his hand to his companion, he left him. Joshua completed
his search for the foe and saw on the yellow sands of the valley dark
figures moving to and fro.
They were the remnants of the defeated Amalekite bands seeking new
abodes.
He watched them a short time and, after convincing himself that they
were quitting the oasis, he thoughtfully returned to the valley.
“The law!” he repeated again and again.
Ay, that was what the wandering tribes lacked. It was doubtless reserved
for its severity to transform the hordes which had escaped bondage into
a people worthy of the God who preferred them above the other nations of
the earth.
Here the chief’s reflections were interrupted; for human voices, the
lowing and bleating of herds, the barking of dogs, and the heavy blows
of hammers rose to his ears from the oasis.
They were pitching the tents, a work of peace, for which no one needed
him.
Lying down in the shadow of a thick tamarisk bush, above which a tall
palm towered proudly, he stretched his limbs comfortably to rest in
the assurance that the people were now provided for, in war by his good
sword, in peace by the Law. This was much, it renewed his hopes; yet,
no, no--it was not all, could not be the final goal. The longer he
reflected, the more profoundly he felt that this was not enough to
satisfy him concerning those below, whom he cherished in his heart as if
they were brothers and sisters. His broad brow again clouded, and roused
from his repose by fresh doubts, he gently shook his head.
No, again no! The Law could not afford to those who were so dear to him
everything that he desired for them. Something else was needed to make
their future as dignified and beautiful as he had beheld it before his
mind’s eye on his journey to the mines.
But what was it, what name did this other need bear?
He began to rack his brain to discover it, and while, with closed lids,
he permitted his thoughts to rove to the other nations whom he had known
in war and peace, in order to seek among them the one thing his own
people lacked, sleep overpowered him and a dream showed him Miriam and
a lovely girl, who looked like Kasana as she had so often rushed to meet
him when a sweet, innocent child, followed by the white lamb which Nun
had given to his favorite many years before.
Both figures offered him a gift and asked him to choose one or the
other. Miriam’s hand held a heavy gold tablet, at whose top was
written in flaming letters: “The Law!” and which she offered with stern
severity. The child extended one of the beautifully-curved palm-leaves
which he had often waved as a messenger of peace.
The sight of the tablet filled him with pious awe, the palm-branch waved
a friendly greeting and he quickly grasped it. But scarcely was it in
his hand ere the figure of the prophetess melted into the air like mist,
which the morning breeze blows away. In painful astonishment he now
gazed at the spot where she had stood, and surprised and troubled by his
strange choice, though he felt that he had made the right one, he asked
the child what her gift imported to him and to the people.
She waved her hand to him, pointed into the distance, and uttered three
words whose gentle musical sound sank deep into his heart. Yet hard as
he strove to catch their purport, he did not succeed, and when he asked
the child to explain them the sound of his own voice roused him and he
returned to the camp, disappointed and thoughtful.
Afterwards he often tried to remember these words, but always in vain.
All his great powers, both mental and physical, he continued to devote
to the people; but his nephew Ephraim, as a powerful prince of his
tribe, who well deserved the high honors he enjoyed in after years,
founded a home of his own, where old Nun watched the growth of
great-grand-children, who promised a long perpetuation of his noble
race.
Everyone is familiar with Joshua’s later life, so rich in action, and
how he won in battle a new home for his people.
There in the Promised Land many centuries later was born, in Bethlehem,
another Jehoshua who bestowed on all mankind what the son of Nun had
vainly sought for the Hebrew nation.
The three words uttered by the child’s lips which the chief had been
unable to comprehend were:
“Love, Mercy, Redemption!”
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
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Voice of the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute
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