University of Virginia Library

A TALE OF JERUSALEM.

“Let us hurry to the walls”—said Abel-Phittim
to Buzi-Ben-Levi, and Simeon the Pharisee, on the
tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the year of the
world three thousand nine hundred and forty-one—
“let us hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of
Benjamin, which is in the city of David, and overlooking
the camp of the uncircumcised—for it is the
last hour of the fourth watch, being sunrise; and the
idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey,
should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices.”

Simeon, Abel-Phittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi were the
Gizbarim, or sub-collectors of the offering, in the
holy city of Jerusalem.

“Verily”—replied the Pharisee—“let us hasten:
for this generosity in the heathen is unwonted; and

fickle-mindedness has ever been an attribute of the
worshippers of Baal.”

“That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is
as true as the Pentateuch”—said Buzi-Ben-Levi—
“but that is only towards the people of Adonai.
When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved
wanting to their own interest? Methinks it is no
great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the
altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty
silver shekels per head!”

“Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi”—replied
Abel-Phittim—“that the Roman Pompey, who is now
impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has
no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus purchased
for the altar, to the sustenance of the body,
rather than of the spirit.”

“Now, by the five corners of my beard”—shouted
the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called The
Dashers (that little knot of saints whose manner of
dashing and lacerating the feet against the pavement
was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees—a
stumbling-block to less gifted perambulators)—“by
the five corners of that beard which as
a priest I am forbidden to shave!—have we lived
to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous
upstart of Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to
the appetites of the flesh the most holy and consecrated
elements? Have we lived to see the day
when”—

“Let us not question the motives of the Philistine”—interrupted
Abel-Phittim—“for to-day we

profit for the first time by his avarice or by his generosity.
But rather let us hurry to the ramparts, lest
offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire
the rains of heaven cannot extinguish—and whose
pillars of smoke no tempest can turn aside.”

That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim
now hastened, and which bore the name of its
architect King David, was esteemed the most strongly
fortified district of Jerusalem—being situated upon
the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here a broad, deep,
circumvallatory trench—hewn from the solid rock—
was defended by a wall of great strength erected
upon its inner edge. This wall was adorned, at
regular interspaces, by square towers of white
marble—the lowest sixty—the highest one hundred
and twenty cubits in height. But in the vicinity of
the gate of Benjamin the wall arose by no means immediately
from the margin of the fosse. On the contrary,
between the level of the ditch and the basement
of the rampart, sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two
hundred and fifty cubits—forming part of the precipitous
Mount Moriah. So that when Simeon and his
associates arrived on the summit of the tower called
Adoni-Bezek—the loftiest of all the turrets around
about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference
with the besieging army—they looked down upon
the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling,
by many feet, that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and,
by several, that of the Temple of Belus.

“Verily”—sighed the Pharisee, as he peered
dizzily over the precipice—“the uncircumcised are

as the sands by the sea-shore—as the locusts in the
wilderness! The valley of The King hath become
the valley of Adommin.”

“And yet”—added Ben-Levi—“thou canst not
point me out a Philistine—no, not one—from Aleph
to Tau—from the wilderness to the battlements—
who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!”

“Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!”
—here shouted a Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough
voice, which appeared to issue from the regions of
Pluto—“lower away the basket with that accursed
coin which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman
to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your gratitude
to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension,
has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous importunities?
The god Phœbus, who is a true god, has
been charioted for an hour—and were you not to
be on the ramparts by sunrise? Ædepol! do you
think that we, the conquerors of the world, have
nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls
of every kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth?
Lower away! I say—and see that your trumpery
be bright in color, and just in weight!”

“El Elohim!”—ejaculated the Pharisee, as the
discordant tones of the centurion rattled up the crags
of the precipice, and fainted away against the
Temple—El Elohim!—who is the god Phœbus?
—whom doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi!
who art read in the laws of the Gentiles,
and hast sojourned among them who dabble with the
Teraphim!—is it Nergal of whom the idolator

speaketh?—or Ashimah?—or Nibhaz?—or Tartak?—or
Adramalech?—or Anamalech?—or Succoth-Benoth?—or
Dagon?—or Belial?—or Ball-Perith?—or
Baal-Peor?—or Baal-Zebub?”

“Verily, it is neither—but beware how thou
lettest the rope slip too rapidly through thy fingers—
for should the wicker-work chance to hang on the
projection of yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring
of the holy things of the sanctuary.”

By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery,
the heavily-laden basket was now lowered
carefully down among the multitude—and, from the
giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen crowding
confusedly around it—but, owing to the vast height
and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their
operations could be obtained.

A half-hour had already elapsed.

“We shall be too late”—sighed the Pharisee, as,
at the expiration of this period, he looked over into
the abyss—“we shall be too late—we shall be
turned out of office by the Katholim.”

“No more”—responded Abel-Phittim—“no more
shall we feast upon the fat of the land—no longer
shall our beards be odorous with frankincense—
our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple.”

“Raca!”—swore Ben-Levi—“Raca!—do they
mean to defraud us of the purchase-money?—or,
Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of the
tabernacle?”

“They have given the signal at last”—cried the
Pharisee—“they have given the signal at last!—

pull away, Abel-Phittim!—and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi,
pull away!—for verily the Philistines have either
still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened
their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!”
And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burthen
swung heavily upwards through the still increasing
mist.

* * * * * * * *

“Booshoh he!”—as, at the conclusion of an hour,
some object at the extremity of the rope became indistinctly
visible—“Booshoh he!”—was the exclamation
which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi.

“Booshoh he!—for shame!—it is a ram from
the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley
of Jehosaphat!”

“It is a firstling of the flock,”—said Abel-Phittim
—“I know him by the bleating of his lips, and the
innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are more
beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral—and his
flesh is like the honey of Hebron.”

“It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan”
—said the Pharisee—“the heathen have dealt
wonderfully with us—let us raise up our voices in a
psalm—let us give thanks on the shawm and on the
psaltery—on the harp and on the huggab—on the
cythern and on the sackbut.”

It was not until the basket had arrived within a
few feet of the Gizbarim, that a low grunt betrayed
to their perception a hog of no common size.

“Now El Emanu!”—slowly, and with upturned
eyes ejaculated the trio, as, letting go their hold, the
emancipated porker tumbled headlong among the
Philistines—“El Emanu!—God be with us!—it
is the unutterable flesh!”

“Let me no longer,” said the Pharisee, wrapping
his cloak around him and departing within the city—
“let me no longer be called Simeon, which signifieth,
`he who listens'—but rather Boanerges, `the son of
Thunder.' ”