 | VIII. Julian, or Scenes in Judea |  |
8. VIII.
I keep my promise, my mother, and again
present myself with wishes of health and peace.
Now when Onias had been absent, as I have
said, many days, to the great concern of Judith,
— which in these times is not strange, for so
much does wickedness abound in all parts of the
land, that it is not without danger that any
one trusts himself in remote or unfrequented
places, — he at length returned in safety indeed,
but as it seemed also, in no small perturbation
of mind. His manner was more close and dark
than even that which is usual with him, and it
was a long time before, by our approaches,
whether more or less direct, we could arrive at
the causes of his discomposure. Judith, by her
playfulness at some seasons, and her deep earnestness
at others, seldom fails to reach her father's
inward ear; and though he at times turns away
even from her, yet is it done never with severity,
or as if it were possible for any word from
her to offend him. Although her questions now
seemed to grate with harshness on his spirit,
missed you greatly, father, these many days.
But since you have been in kings' palaces we
look to you to make amends for your long absence,
by the agreeable things you have to tell
us. Saw you the fair daughter of Arabia?
They say she is unhappy.”
“Who say so?” asked Onias.
“Surely,” said Judith, “you have heard it
many times. I speak but the common rumor.”
“I know not how it is,” replied Onias. “It
is a pity if it be so. The great should never
marry, — or not till their greatness is reached,
and they can take their equal.”
“Because one is great then,” exclaimed Judith,
“he must no longer be a man! Truly I
think as to the women of Judea, they would
rather marry a man for the reason that he hath
the affections of a man, than because he has the
greatness of a king or hero.”
“Yet,” answered Onias, “a man may find
all in one, which Herod hath not. The daughter
of Aretas hath a seemly beauty enough, if
one, great like Herod, should have regard to the
poor varnish, easily spoiled, of a fair skin —
beauty more than enough to satisfy him, — but
the wife of Antipas should show other and
greater qualities.”
“Surely she hath goodness,” said Judith, “so
much?”
“But,” said Onias with force, “she hath not
greatness. She is no meet companion of a
king.”
“Alas for us,” rejoined Judith. “Let me
die a maid. As I have ever judged no greatness
is greater than a true love. But this I see
is woman's folly. — The poor lady must be unhappy
I think; and all we have heard of Herodias
is now, I doubt not, true. Herod's journeys
to Jerusalem are in search of greatness.
I marvel how the Arabian king will take these
rumors. Methinks, if he be as fathers should
be, Herod will have his hands more than full.”
Seeing Onias to be disturbed, I asked, to divert
the conversation to another subject, if at
Machærus, he had learned anything concerning
the affairs of Cæsarea. This gave a new turn
to his thoughts, but at first, I feared, hardly a
more grateful one, for he was manifestly troubled.
But he spake with freedom.
“Cæsarea,” he replied, “is, as I learn, still at
peace. But between Pilate and Herod there is
growing up discord, springing from that affair.
Angry letters have passed between them. Pilate
hath even thrown upon Herod the blame of
my presence and taking part in the fight; and
though he hath not continued to require my
did, he doth demand that the citadel of Beth-Harem
be surrendered to the Roman forces to
be occupied by them. To this Herod must
yield, — he can do no otherwise, — so that in
not many days troops from Cæsarea will cross
the Jordan on this errand.”
“It appears to me,” I replied,” an unreasonable
measure of precaution much beyond any
possible danger to Rome, to set a garrison to
watch an individual — a vine-dresser here on
the banks of the Jordan. Pilate's vigilance in
Cæsarea was by no means in proportion to
this.”
“Doubtless, Julian, it is so. That is very
true. It seems so, indeed. What then is true,
but that Pilate sees deeper than does the common
eye, and discerns dangers brewing of which
others are not aware.”
“But what other dangers are there, that Rome
should stand in fear of?” I asked. “I can see
none. The people of these regions seem quiet
and at peace.”
“So they appear,” replied Onias. “Surely
there is nothing that shows otherwise. The
Jew is all too well disposed to peace. In that
rogue Jael, who keeps the inn at Thebez, you
may behold one whom half the Jews of the
land are not ashamed to resemble. Nevertheless
who are of another mind. There may be danger
from these. The cold rocky ground often
covers over hidden and fatal fires.”
“You utter yourself darkly, father,” said
Judith; “your words hint at more than they
speak.”
“Be content, my daughter, with so much;
neither look farther nor deeper than the words
themselves which I have spoken. But whether
there be danger, or not, I cannot like to see Romans
in the citadel of Beth-Harem.”
In this manner did Onias communicate with
us on his return from the fortress of Machærus.
What his apprehensions really are I cannot tell,
for he plainly is not disposed at present to make
even Judith a partner of his thoughts. It seems
not to be believed that Pilate should have any
such fears of Onias or myself, as to render so
strong a measure necessary as that which he is
about to take; and in my judgment he hath
seized upon the affair at Cæsarea merely as a
pretext, which with the people will possess
some show of reason and be abundantly justified
at Rome, for taking possession of a strong
hold, which in the occurrence of hostilities
would be of so great advantage to the stronger
party. Herod, is greatly and justly incensed at
so high an act of usurpation on the part of Pilate,
of his tetrarchy, and is secured to him by the
same acts of the senate which have given him
his dominion. But what people are secure
against the aggressions of Rome or her governors,
when it suits their purposes to encroach upon
them? The possessions of any King tributary
to her stand but in a breath. A word spoken
beyond the seas in the heart of Italy, and thereupon
distant empires are dismembered, kings
and princes dethroned, treaties violated, territories
alienated, honor, justice, and mercy trampled
under foot. Herod has no power to contend
with Rome. He can but remonstrate —
and submit. But the friendship, which hath
heretofore subsisted between the Roman Governor
and the Jewish Prince is from this moment
at an end; and the mutual offences, which
will now be given and taken on the one side
and the other, it is not difficult to foresee will
ere long lead to serious misunderstandings or
open feud.
A few days have passed away, and what Onias
feared and foretold has come to pass; the Roman
power has made a secure conquest in
Beth-Harem. We have witnessed the arrival of
the Roman troops, and the departure of those of
Herod. The populace of Beth-Harem were
their own prince giving way before the arrival
of those of their oppressors. As it was known
both by couriers, who had gone before, and by
the distant clouds of dust and sounds of martial
music, that the Romans were actually approaching,
the inhabitants of the town poured
forth, both for the purpose of beholding the
scene and of giving vent to their displeasure in
insults and reproaches. We also repaired to the
plains, just without the walls, and standing beneath
the shade of the groves, which on this
side the town everywhere encompass it, to
which the inhabitants constantly resort for their
recreations during the warmer days of summer,
we awaited the approach of the soldiers.
While here we perceived, that the people were
well disposed to stir up strife whenever the
soldiers should appear, to which they were
diligently encouraged by many of the chief
citizens, who, not less than the rabble of this
strange people, seem ever ready for tumult,
though nothing be to be gained thereby. They
seem to have no control over their passions or
of their expression, but utter freely whatever
they conceive in their minds, regardless of the
possible or probable consequences, which such
rashness may draw after it. As we stood conversing
we observed a large multitude posting
by merely placing themselves there, they could
obstruct the entrance of an armed force, while
the most that could happen would be throwing
an obstacle in their way for a few moments,
in doing which many might in the confusion
be trampled to death, while no possible benefit
could accrue. Nor were the Priests and Rulers of
the Synagogue, Shammai and Zadok, ashamed to
be among them, giving edge to their passions
by their gestures and language. Zadok — the
more zealous of the two, whom I had before
seen in Beth-Harem on the Sabbath — when he
had sufficiently bestowed his counsel on the
rabble, came toward us, just then when by the
braying of instruments and the neighing of
horses we knew that the Romans were at
hand.
“Well met, Onias,” he cried, as he joined us
hot with his exertions, and covered with dust,
“and you too, Sir Roman — and — laying his
hand on his breast, or rather on his beard,
which swept over it, and bending his head
toward Judith — thou also, fair Rose of Sharon;
but, daughter, there will be dust on thy leaves
if thou standest here, and that too from filthy
Roman feet. Get thee farther back, child.
Look to this flower, Onias, let it not be soiled.”
“Mind not me,” said Judith; “it is not dust
it be from Roman feet. A breath blows it off
again.”
The priest cast a quick glance at the girl, as
if suspecting a hidden meaning in her words.
Judith immediately added, as if she had said
nothing that had deserved attention, “Why,
Zadok, dost thou set thyself to inflame the
people more than is their nature? Their hearts
are already bitter enough, methinks.”
“An eye for an eye, young woman,” he answered,
“as thy princely father would say also,
and this young cousin of thine too if his face
is to be read aright. An eye for an eye!
Would it could be an eye for an eye. But it
will be a long day before the Jew can do upon
the gentile what he hath done upon the Jew.
But a long day will have its end, and, may I
be one to see it. There come the idolaters!
See their pride in scarlet and horses, in armor
and in music! Ah, if the sight of a mole is
given me, their bones shall never rest in the
sepulchres of their Fathers. Who is he at their
head, sitting forsooth as if he were Cæsar
himself?”
One who stood by cried out, “That is Saturninus
the Centurion.”
While he spoke, various outcries arose from
the people, while some brandished their arms
branches broken from the trees, and others
scraping up the dust in their hands threw it into
the air, or hurled it against the soldiers. Just
as the Centurion was passing where we stood, he
could clearly perceive, that the entrance to the
city was wholly obstructed by a crowd of not
men only but women and children also, who
thronged the way. Although from the insults
heaped upon him on every side he could not
but learn what was the temper of the people, yet
he evidently did not suppose, that the dense body
of people before him was gathered there for any
other purpose than to witness his entrance, for
waving his sword, while he put no check on
the pace of his horse, he made a signal as if
the way should be cleared, and as if expecting
it would instantly be obeyed. But no movement
followed. On the contrary the people
pressed more closely together and increased their
cries of rage. Whereupon the troops were ordered
to stand still, who, though they were set
upon in a thousand ways of ignominious assault,
yet took no note of it save to utter in
under tones fierce and bitter curses. The Centurion
now advanced alone toward the crowd,
and speaking to them in calm and manly tones
begged them “not to hinder him in his entrance
into the city; he did not come to do them any
remain among them, hoped to be a friend to them,
and protect them against any evil that might
threaten; perhaps he should remain but for a
brief space, when the troops of Herod would be
restored; if they would retire and allow him a
free and easy passage, and if those who had
command among them would persuade the
youths and others to intermit their violence, he
would promise to do them no harm nor suffer
any of his soldiers to take any revenge for injuries
already committed; but otherwise he
might not be able to restrain their fury.”
To this speech they answered only by fresh
outcries and filling the air with dust. Perceiving
then that the obstinacy of the people
was not to be overcome, Saturninus returned to
where we were standing, together with many
others of the principal citizens. Singling out
Onias without difficulty as chief of them all, he
besought him to aid him in his peaceful endeavors,
that he might not be compelled to betake
himself to measures of force, which he
should be sorry to resort to, not less than
others would be to witness or suffer them. “It
must be easily in the power of such as you
seem to be,” he said, “to divert from their purpose
a multitude of obstinate persons, who can
certainly have no expectation of either fighting
passions to our great vexation and shame.”
Before Onias could utter a word in reply,
Zadok shouted forth, “Oh! press on noble
Roman! There is a manly victory before thee.
There stand the women and little children of
our city. Ride over them with thy steel-hoofed
horses, and historians shall chronicle thy deeds.
As thou didst in Cæsarca, do here — ride swiftly,
kill and slay.”
“Thou misjudgest Romans,” replied Saturninus
with mildness, “if thou thinkest we
would hurt the unarmed and helpless. But
surely it is more than foolish to encourage the
people in these mad insults, which can at best
have no other end than to convert into enemies
those who now are friends and well disposed to
remain so; but what thou wilt not do another
will, and the gods be thanked.”
These last words he said as he beheld Onias
hasten towards the gate, accompanied by others,
and make signs for the people to disperse.
As the Centurion saw there was a hesitation
among the crowd, some being disposed to yield
and end their idle display of rage, he gave the
order to his troop to advance at a good pace.
Whereupon the whole body, nothing loth, set forward
to the sound of their trumpets, and at a
quicker pace too than they knew was intended,
they approached in this manner near the crowd,
quickening their motion more and more, than
the terror of the sight, and the fear of being
trampled to death by those whom they knew
they had filled with anger, caused them to
scatter in great confusion on either side of the
highway, many falling and rolling over each
other, to the great entertainment both of the
Romans and of all who beheld it; not a few
hardly escaping from under the feet of the
horse; nor would have done so but for the forbearance
of the riders. Without further hindrance,
then, they rode on to their quarters in
the midst of the city.
As the last of them passed within the gates,
we turned away towards thy brother's, Shammai
and Zadok accompanying us.
“Ah,” said Zadok, as we walked along,
“doth it not grieve the heart of a son of the
freeman Abraham, who wandered to and fro
from Dan to Beersheba without let or hindrance
whithersoever he would, and when it pleased
him went even unto Egypt, his wife Sarah with
him, and when it pleased him came back again,
calling no man master, being a slave to no one,
doth it not, I say, grieve the heart of one of
this generation, to behold how we are fallen
into this accursed slavery to the gentile — our
his taxgatherers?”
“Yet,” said Judith, “is it better to wait the
Lord's time for our deliverance than seek it by
our wisdom and strength. He hath promised,
and the promise will be kept.” —
“Yea, young maiden, as in the synagogue
I have oft affirmed — to which thine ears I joy
to perceive have not been closed. He hath
promised indeed, and even in our day do we
look for the fulfilment. Moses hath spoken of
the salvation, and all the prophets. But holy
Daniel — hath he not in words not to be doubted
or gainsaid, as I will show thee —”
“Therefore, Rabbi, what I would say,”
gently interposed Judith, — willing to avert
the threatened rehearsal, “is, that seeing the
promises have been given, which because given
of Jehovah will be kept, ought we not to wait
rather in patience times which he hath appointed
for our redemption, than strive to hasten
them by acts of our own. We are as the blind
when we aim to look into the designs of infinite
intelligence; and as children who should think
to move Mount Hermon, when we do aught in
the hope to hinder or hasten them.”
Zadok scowled at these words of Judith, but
added, “What the Lord hath done in the days
past of our history to the gentile, and the worshippers
the worship of Baal and Moloch, and even to
their priests, killing and slaying, he hath taught
his people to do. How oft by his prophets of
old did he send them forth to destroy his despisers
from off the face of the Earth.”
“Doubtless,” replied Judith, “it is that for
which I would have our people now wait. Let
the Prophet who is to come, and for whom
we now wait, appear, and whither he shall lead
let us follow, and what he shall command, let
us do. But while he comes not, let us withhold
our hand. It is his bidding that shall make
deeds innocent, which without shall be black
with guilt.”
“Thy words,” here interposed Shammai,
“are as those of the wise king of Israel — they
are as apples of gold in pictures of silver.”
Judith perceived as she thought a hidden reproach
in the words of the Rabbi, and feeling
as if in her earnestness she had offended
against what was due to her elder, her face was
covered with blushes and fell upon her breast
as she said; “nay, Rabbi, I meant not to teach,
but only to speak for the cause of present peace.
Surely it can be of no avail that the scenes of
Cæsarea should be repeated in Beth-Harem.
We there lost those whom we greatly loved,
yet hath their loss brought no profit to our nation.
contend is too mighty to resist, if God be not on
our side. Alas! Father, forgive me; I fear I
teach again” — and the fair girl covered her
face with her hands.
“We need,” said Shammai in gentler tones,
“to be rather forgiven of thee. They who
hold of Judas are apt to be of a harsh and hasty
speech, which must make our peace with thee,
my daughter. We are a fierce and contentious
race.”
We had now reached the dwelling of Onias.
When we had entered, Judith hastened to offer
for our refreshment delicious grapes with pitchers
of wine just from the presses and water cooled
with the snows of Lebanon. To the Rulers she
presented with her own hands the bunches that
were ripest, and fairest, and poured out for them
the new wine, mingling with it both snow and
water. Their spirit was greatly softened by the
services of Judith, and by the cooling effects of
the fruit and wine, and Shammai holding up
the cup from which he had drank, and looking
intently at its proportions said;
“Verily, Onias, the cunning of man is like
the cunning of Him who made him. How
many are his devices for our comfort and adornment.
Here is this cup of silver curiously
from Persia; these rich hangings from Damascus;
these couches of silk from the farther India.
Wisdom, saith Solomon, is better than silver, or
gold, or rubies. Yea, O wise man, so it is.
Yet these are good nevertheless, and thou wast
too wise to give them bad names. So again he
saith, there is nothing better for a man in this
life, than that he should eat and drink, which
is also a wise saying. We may well call
that wise which simply describeth a natural
thing. It needed not he should have eaten
so good grapes or drunk so good wine as
these to have taught him that. Every man
will say it, who in the morning riseth and findeth
nothing better than a cake baked on the
coals, with a piece of honey. As I think, it is
only when a man eats or drinks that he can say
his soul is without trouble. Verily he is righteous
overmuch, as the great king saith, and one
greatly impertinent moreover, who, like the
foolish Essenes, seeketh to please God by refusing
with contempt the good things he hath
taken the pains to create, and cause the earth to
bring forth for his entertainment. It would be
right, that such an one in the resurrection
should be defrauded of his expectations. He,
that despiseth what the Lord hath made and
pronounced good, should himself be despised
this wine is good. Yes — that is what I would
have — let it be filled once more. Onias, who
is this Saturninus, as some one called him, whom
we are to have to rule over us?”
Onias replied, that he knew not.
“Perhaps then,” continued the ruler, “our
young Roman knoweth him.” To this I answered,
that I knew only his name, that he was
of a good family (the family, my mother, of
M. Scævola Saturninus) and had served with
credit in the army.
“May he and his army perish,” cried Zadok,
“ere they leave the walls of Beth-Harem.”
“In the mean while,” said Onias, “it were
better that the people trouble him not. What
is done, let it be done, not as to-day.”
“Ah, Onias, I see thee. Thou wouldst take
them by craft, thou wouldst catch them by subtlety.”
“I would not catch them at all,” Onias replied;
“but let them dwell among us in peace.
When the time cometh it will be seen that it is
come. I shall trust to see this same Saturninus
and know him.”
So we conversed of many things, till Shammai,
bethinking himself of affairs that required
his presence, took his departure, Zadok accompanying
him. The elder of the two rulers —
Judith and Onias esteem; while for other reasons
they think but lightly of him. He is, if
one may say so, a sort of Epicurean in a Jew's
dress — and among what nation, tribe, or religion
is not the Epicurean to be found? The dispositions
which nature hath given him are such as
inspire affection; but the boldness with which
he administers the office of ruler of the synagogue,
while in his heart he doubts or disbelieves
the faith of which he makes so open a
profession, causeth him to be treated not so much
as a friend whom they can admit to their entire
confidence and love, as one whose cheerful presence
and discourse add greatly to the pleasures of
any society of which he makes a part. His
years ensure him reverence. Judith, indeed,
having known him from a child, doth more than
reverence him. Of Zadok thou shalt hear
another time.
| VIII. Julian, or Scenes in Judea | |