University of Virginia Library

4. IV.

That morrow is past. Its sun has gone
down in darkness. I keep my promise, my
mother, and at once tell you of its scenes and
events.

It was, as I have said, the Sabbath. In the
household of Sameas the observances were as
with those of the stricter sort in Rome, except
that Philip was early abroad attending to the
affairs committed to him. Anna and her
mother repaired to the Synagogue. As they
were departing, Anna turned to me and said,
“will you not, Julian, go with us?” I said
that I could not; my anxieties were too many to
allow me to worship, and I did not choose to
be present with my body alone. She said
that my answer had rebuked her, for she was
sure she should think only of Philip. “If,”
said her mother, “you will not only think of
Philip, but lift up your prayers for him, how,
my child, could you be more devoutly employed?”
“That is true,” replied the daughter,
“let us go, and pray for Philip and for

Judea. Farewell, Julian, go not to the games.”
And with these words, the last which I heard
from her, she turned away and moved in the
direction of the Synagogue.

Not long after their departure, I too sought
the streets, uncertain whether to bend my way
toward the Amphitheatre, or toward the Synagogue,
which, whether I should enter it or
not as a worshipper, certainly had all my
thoughts. I was determined, as men ever are,
by the multitude; and them I found all hurrying
toward the Circus. The city seemed
emptying in that direction, so great were the
numbers of persons on foot and in chariots, on
camels and on horses, many being from the
country round about, who were thus hastening
in the pursuit of pleasure. I, without will or
purpose of my own, was borne along with the
current. The expectations, as I conversed first
with one and then with another of those who
were going the same way, were great as to the
entertainment to be afforded.

“It was to be the great day of the games.
It was announced,” said they, “as I might see
for myself on the corners of all the streets, that
an hundred Lions were to contend with one
another, with other beasts, or with men. That
was but a part of the show. There were
other things greater yet. Pilate had never

before, on his part, made so great provision
for the amusement of the people. Old men
said it brought to mind the days of Herod.”

But long before I reached the plain on the
outskirts of the city, where stands the Circus,
I turned round, and moved in another direction,
giving myself up to my meditations
thinking now of you, my mother, then of my
journey to Beth-Harem, and most of all, of
Philip and his sister. So I kept on my way, I
know not how long, till suddenly the sounds of
our Sabbath music struck my ear. The street
were now still, and I paused and listened
The chant rose and fell with the gentle breeze
that was stirring, and by its uncommon sweetness
drew me on in the direction of the sound
I had walked but a few paces, when, leaving
the narrow street in which I had been moving,
I found myself to my surprise in front of the
devoted Synagogue. I stood and leaned upon
a broken wall, and again listened with more
attention; for the voices of Anna and her
mother I knew were mingling in the strain.
But I had not stood listening long, ere another
sound of a very different kind from an opposite
quarter fell on my ear — the distant rumbling
of many wheels, the trampling of horses, and
the confused murmur which betokens the
movement of a multitude. My apprehensions

at once interpreted the meaning of the sound.
It rapidly approached, and in a moment more a
body of artisans, with their implements of labor,
and massy engines for the levelling of walls,
accompanied by a crowd of the populace and a
small guard of Roman soldiers, came into view,
and moved on toward the spot where I stood.
At the same instant, as it were, the inhabitants
of the street up which the army of destroyers
were marching, the neighboring streets, and
the square — inhabited almost wholly by Jews
— became aware that the long threatened and
overhanging evil was now at hand and about
to fall, and poured forth to witness or to resist
the desolation. As if by the power of magic a
multitude now stood in the spaces, where but
a moment before were but a few idlers like
myself.

The worshippers within the Synagogue,
warned by messengers from without of the sacrilege
about to be committed, we now saw descending
the lofty steps in slow procession,
bearing in their hands the books of the law.
They fled not at the prospect of the approaching
danger, but gathered around the walls of
their ancient temple, as if by their presence
alone, with their revered priests and elders at
their head, they could avert the storm that had
gathered over them, or touch with compassion

the hearts of the rude servants of irrestible
power, now about to commence the work of
destruction. That troop of slaves with their
implements — axes, saws, bars, and battering
rams, — at the same time drew near, and spread
themselves, as if without delay to begin the
work, attempting to thrust back with violence
the crowds which accumulated around them.
But to this first and necessary work were their
men unequal, for they had to contend not with
the vile rabble that might have been found in
the neighborhood of a theatre or a market, but
with women, and children, and aged men, the
mothers, wives, and sisters of many of the
chief citizens of Cæsarea, together with the
priests and ministers of their worship. And
they were met, too, not by return of blows of
violence of any sort, but with tears and intreaties,
and importunate cries of deep distress,
imploring them to withhold their hands, nor
bury in ruins the venerable temple of their faith.
The loud sound of wailing and lamentation,
arising thus from the voices of the women,
mingled in strange and mournful confusion
with the rolling of the heavy wheels, the cries
of those who managed the engines, the oaths
and vociferations of the workmen, the shrill
braying of the trumpets, and the hoarse commands
of the Roman Centurion, as he essayed
to preserve what order he could, hemmed in
and oppressed by so great a crowd of human
beings.

Pilate had ordered that no assault whatever
should be made upon the Jews, unless first
assailed by them; and that indulgence should
be shown to natural expressions of sorrow and
indignation; but that open resistance should be
punished without mercy. It happened soon,
therefore, that the Centurion, not being permitted
to resort to any measures of violence,
found himself separated from the soldiers, and
the soldiers from one another, by the irresistible
pressure of the crowds. This was indeed
of little consequence at first, because there were
no signs of any other resistance being made,
than that which proceeded from the weeping of
the women, and the passionate exclamations of
the men. But as soon as the workmen had
succeeded in planting their engines, and raising
their ladders, and were preparing to ply their
various instruments of destruction, a scene of
horror ensued, which, if that Centurion could
have controlled his soldiers, might in some
sort — supposing any humanity to have dwelt
in his bosom — by his interposition have been
prevented. For when, after having in the
manner I have said planted their engines in the
proper position, and they were then for the first

time about to ply them upon the walls, the
Jews immediately around could no longer restrain
themselves, but threw themselves, the
women not less than the men, upon them and
clung madly to the wheels, to the beams, and
even to the head itself of the rams, and also
rushing in placed themselves between the instruments
and the walls, so that neither could
the soldiers work their engines, nor, if they
could, was it possible to do so without crushing
vast numbers of the people that were upon them,
around them, or lying prostrate before them.
Such reverence and love was there among them
for the place and the Object of their worship.

But when neither by entreaty, nor by such
force as they could use, was it possible to tear
these miserable beings from their fatal grasp,
and when every warning had been given them
that there would no longer be any delay, then
by the force of the artisans were the engines
drawn back, and when they had been so held a
few moments, were let drive against the walls,
and all those who had chosen so to devote themselves
miserably perished. Shrieks of agony,
cries of horror, and imprecations of divine vengeance
at that filled the air. Yet it now availed
not. The engines were quickly drawn back
again, and again driven against the walls, destroying
all who still were in their way. But

when by the Jews, who still possessed their
reason, it was thus seen that no signs of devotion
and no proofs of constancy could prevent
the fated devastation, they then, as it were with
one accord, determined that their wives and
children should no longer be permitted to be
either witnesses or sharers in what was further
to ensue; and they were borne away not without
force, so full were they of the spirit which
is ready to sacrifice itself in the service of its
God, to the dwellings which bordered upon the
space in which the synagogue stood. Long
before this I had with anxiety searched in the
crowds for Anna and her mother, but in vain.
But while I with others was engaged in this
service of placing the women beyond the reach
of danger, it was with the greatest joy that I
discovered them already secure upon the roof of
one of the loftiest dwellings.

Now while this duty had been performing,
the Romans, taking advantage of the temporary
dispersion of the crowd, plied vigorously on
every side their huge battering rams, and clouds
of dust, and the crash of falling stones gave
evidence how rapidly the work was going on.
The walls of the outer court and the porches
were fast tumbling in ruins. But no sooner
were the women disposed of, than the Jews,
actuated by one spirit of revenge, forgetting in

the heat of the hour the sacredness of the day
and their resolutions of forbearance, and rushing
in upon the workmen, by the overwhelming
force of numbers, drove them from their posts.
At this, the Roman Horse, and at the same time
also the Greeks, and all others who were hostile
to the Jews, poured in to the defence of the
workmen; and thus all around, both within and
without the walls of the Court, and throughout
all the surrounding streets, were the whole multitude
mingled in bloody fight. As soon, however,
as the Centurion had ordered to the attack
the soldiers under him, then forth from out the
courts of the neighboring houses, from the
windows and doors, poured fully armed, Philip,
Simon, and their adherents; and though on
foot fell with fury on the Roman and his
troop.

The Jews were now concentrated on one side
of the square, the Romans and the Greeks on
the other, and with or without weapons, all
were engaged. But the Jews, notwithstanding
their desperate bravery, and the freedom with
which they sold their lives, were no match for
the cavalry of the Romans, and were soon seen to
yield their ground, and were, indeed, falling
back fast, when they were arrested, and made
to turn again with momentary success upon their
enemy, by the sudden appearance of a small troop

of mounted Jews, with one at their head, whose
commanding air, and impetuous charge, inspired
his countrymen with new courage.

“Come on,” cried he, “men of Israel. For
the Lord and Judea” — and, followed by his
little band, fell with fury upon the Romans. It
was at a moment when it was needful that fortune
should show some favor to our people,
though to me it was clear that they could not
but soon be routed, and that with great slaughter
— for Philip, upon whom dependence was
placed, more than upon any other, was just
then nearly borne down by the advancing Horse.
But refusing steadfastly to retreat before those
whom he hated, but feared not, and to whom,
if so it must be, he was ready to sell his life,
he sought, and engaged, hand to hand, with the
Centurion. Though so unequal in their advantages,
Philip made up in some manner, for
his position, being on foot, by his stature, and
the superior strength of his arm. The fight
hung long doubtful; but, alas! as it could not
but be, the Centurion prevailed, and by a well
aimed blow, clove his antagonist to the ground.
At this moment the Jew horseman came up,
and I looked that he should on the instant revenge
the death of Philip; but suddenly drawing
in his horse, he cried out, in the Hebrew
tongue, “Hah, Gentile, Gentile, beware the fate

of Abimelech.” Had he to whom this was said
understood what those words conveyed, he
might, by stooping upon his horse, have evaded
the messenger of death; but he knew them
not; and they were scarcely uttered, when a stone
from a roof struck him lifeless to the pavement.
I raised my eye to the spot whence it came —
it was Anna's form I there saw, bending over to
behold the work she had done; but at the same
instant, even as I gazed upon her with both
wonder and sorrow, a javelin from the hand of
a Roman pierced her through, and she fell back
upon the tiles.

There was then, my mother, no longer any
Cæsarea for me; and I flung myself from the
place where, till then, I had remained, (that I
might, in the event of the house being assailed,
be at hand for the defence of Anna and her
mother,) and mingled as full of the spirit of
revenge as any, in the thickest of the fight. —
But why should I now say more? that soon
happened, which I had been looking for. The
news of the affray had been carried to Pilate —
a legion was on the moment despatched to the
Synagogue, and with its overwhelming force
soon decided the contest. But I heeded not its
presence, I knew it not. Blind with passion
and grief, I fought madly, till, as I suppose, I
fell senseless, through loss of strength and

blood. — I awoke in a Roman dungeon. I am
in the hands of Pilate. What the event will be
I cannot foresee. If I perish, though thou wilt
lose an unworthy son, yet is he one who, in
whatever else he failed, failed never in his love
of thee. I can now say no more.

These lines I am permitted to place in the
hands of Zeno, the Greek, trusting that he will
despatch them speedily to Rome. Farewell.