Produced by Al Haines
HEBREW HEROES:
A TALE
FOUNDED ON JEWISH HISTORY.
By
A. L. O. E.,
_Author of "The Triumph over Midian," "Rescued from Egypt," "Exiles in Babylon," &c. &c._
[Transcriber's note: "A. L. O. E." is the pseudonym of Charlotte MariaTucker, and is the abbreviation of "A Lady of England".]
LONDON:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.
1870.
Preface
There are few portions of the world's history which, to my own mind,afford subjects of such thrilling interest as that which I haveselected for the groundwork of the following story. I have tried, inthe main, to adhere closely to facts, though I have ventured somewhatto compress the length of time which actually elapsed between therising against Syrian tyranny at Modin, and the restoration of theTemple. I may also have been inaccurate in representing AntiochusEpiphanes as being still in Jerusalem at the period when the battle ofEmmaus took place. Such trifling deviations from history seem to me,however, by no means to interfere with that fidelity to its grandoutlines which an author should conscientiously observe. No historicalcharacter has been wilfully misrepresented in these pages. If I haveventured to paint one of the noblest of Judah's heroes with thefeelings and weaknesses common to man, I trust that even his mostenthusiastic Hebrew admirer will not deem that they lower his dignityas commander, or patriot prince.
The exploits of Judas Maccabeus might seem to be a theme more befittingthe pen of one of his own race than mine; yet would I fain hope that awork which it has been a labour of love to a Christian to write, maynot be altogether despised even by the descendants of Hebrew heroes whoshared the Asmonean's toils and triumphs in the land for which heconquered and died.
A. L. O. E.
Contents
I. FAITHFUL TO THE DEATH. II. THE MIDNIGHT BURIAL. III. LIFE OR DEATH. IV. FOLLOWING BEHIND. V. THE DREAM. VI. THE JOURNEY HOME. VII. THE FIRST STRUGGLE. VIII. HADASSAH'S QUEST. IX. DEATH OF MATTATHIAS. X. CONCEALMENT. XI. DEEP THINGS. XII. TRIALS OF THE HEART. XIII. SILENT CONFLICT. XIV. A CRISIS. XV. THE TWO CAMPS. XVI. BATTLE OF EMMAUS. XVII. DEPARTED. XVIII. THE PASSOVER FEAST. XIX. A PRISON. XX. THE COURT OF ANTIOCHUS. XXI. THE MAIDEN'S TRIAL. XXII. A BREATHING SPACE. XXIII. FOUND AT LAST. XXIV. DECISION. XXV. A RETROSPECT. XXVI. WEARY WANDERINGS. XXVII. FLIGHT. XXVIII. UNITED IN THE GRAVE. XXIX. THE MOURNER'S HOME. XXX. CHANGES. XXXI. NIGHT TRAVELLING. XXXII. FRIENDS OR FOES? XXXIII. THE LEADER AND THE MAN. XXXIV. FANATICISM. XXXV. THE BATTLE-PRAYER. XXXVI. BETHSURA. XXXVII. AFTER THE BATTLE. XXXVIII. THE VICTOR'S RETURN. XXXIX. THE FEAST OF DEDICATION.
HEBREW HEROES.
CHAPTER I.
FAITHFUL TO THE DEATH.
The sun was setting gloriously over the hills which encompassJerusalem, pouring its streams of golden light on the valleys clothedwith the vine, pomegranate, and olive, sparkling on the brook Kedron,casting a rich glow on flat-roofed dwellings, parapets, and walls, andthrowing into bold relief from the crimson sky the pinnacles of theTemple, which, at the period of which I write, crowned the height ofMount Zion. Not the gorgeous Temple which Solomon had raised, that hadlong ago been given to the flames, nor yet the Temple as adorned byKing Herod: the building before us stands in its simple majesty aserected by the Hebrews after their return from Babylon under theleadership of Zerubbabel and Jeshua. Not the might of the powerful,nor the gold of the wealthy, but the earnest zeal of a peopledown-trodden and oppressed had built that Temple; and its highestadornment was the promise which Haggai's inspired lips had uttered:_The Desire of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house withglory, saith the Lord of hosts_ (Hag. ii. 7). _The glory of thislatter house shall be greater than that of the former_ (Hag. ii. 9).
The fulfilment of that promise was still a subject for faith; andseldom had faith had to breast a fiercer storm of persecution than thatwhich was sweeping over God's ancient people at the time when my storyopens, about 167 years before the Christian era. The Roman had not yettrodden the soil of Palestine as a conqueror; but a yoke yet moreintolerable than his lay on the necks of the sons of Abraham.Antiochus Epiphanes, king of Syria, one of the most merciless tyrantsthat ever existed, bore rule in the city of David. He had deluged thestreets of Jerusalem with blood, he had plundered and polluted theTemple, offered the unclean beast upon God's holy altar, and set up theimage of Jupiter Olympus in the place dedicated to the worship of theLord of Sabaoth. It was a time of rebuke and blasphemy, of fierypersecution against the one pure faith; and if some shrank back fromthe trial, other Hebrews showed that the spirit of Shadrach and hisbrethren still lived amongst the people of Judaea.
On the evening which I am describing, a young man was wandering amongthe clumps of hoary olive-trees which shaded a valley on the easternside of Jerusalem. The red sunbeams pierced here and there between thegrey branching stems and through the foliage, and shone full on thefigure of Lycidas the Athenian. No one could have mistaken him for aHebrew, even had the young man worn the garb of a Jew instead of thatof a Grecian. The exquisitely-formed features of the stranger werethose which have been made familiar to us by the masterpieces ofantiquity treasured in our museums. Lycidas might well have served asmodel to Phidias for a statue of Endymion. His form was of faultlessproportions, remarkable rather for symmetry and grace than forstrength; and his face might have been deemed too feminine in itsbeauty, but for the stamp of intellect on it. That young brow hadalready worn the leafy crown in the Olympic contest for poetic honours;Lycidas had read his verses aloud in the arena to the critical ears ofthe Athenians, his fellow-citizens, and thousands from other parts ofGreece, and had heard their plaudits ringing through the air at theclose. That had been a proud moment for the youthful Athenian, but hisambition had not been satisfied by this his first great success.Lycidas was his own severest critic, and regarded himself as beingrather at the starting-point than as at the goal. He had resolved onwriting a poem, the fame of which should emulate that of the Iliad, andhad chosen as the theme of his verse THE HEROISM OF VIRTUE. Lycidaswould draw his pictures from history, choose his models from men, andnot from the so-called deities with which superstition or fancy hadpeopled Olympus. The Athenian had an innate love of the pure and true,which made him intuitively reject fables, and which, amongst hiscountrymen, exposed him to the charge of scepticism. Lycidas couldlaugh with Aristophanes at legends of gods and demigods, whom theirvery priests represented as having more than the common infirmities andvices of mortal men. Had Lycidas reared an altar, it would have beenlike that which was seen two centuries later in his native city, withthe inscription, To THE UNKNOWN GOD. The Greek knew of no being aboveearth whom he could intelligently worship; and his religion consistedrather in an intense admiration for virtue in the abstract, than inanything to which his more superstitious countrymen would have giventhe name of piety.
To collect materials for his poem on THE HEROISM OF VIRTUE, Lycidas hadtravelled far and wide. He had visited Rome, then a powerful republic,and listened with keen interest to her annals, so rich in stories ofpatriotism and self-devotion. The Athenian had then turned his courseeastward, had visited Alexandria, ascended the Nile, gazed on thePyramids, even then--more than two thousand years ago--venerable fromtheir antiquity. After seeing the marvels of the land of the Pharaohs,Lycidas had travelled by the way of Gaza to Jerusalem, where he was nowresiding. He was an occasional guest at the court of the Syrianmona
rch, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction from Perseus,king of Macedonia.
It was not to indulge in pleasant poetic reveries that Lycidas had onthat evening sought the seclusion of the olive-grove, if the directionof the current of his thoughts might be known by the index of his face,which wore an expression of indignation, which at times almost flashedinto fierceness, while the silent lips moved, as if uttering words ofstern reproof and earnest expostulation. No one was near to watch thecountenance of the young Greek, until he suddenly met a person richlyattired in the costume worn at the Syrian court, who came upon him in aspot where the narrowness of the path precluded the two men fromavoiding each other without turning back, and so brought about ameeting which, to the last comer at least, was unwelcome.
"Ha! my Lord Pollux, is it you!" exclaimed Lycidas, with courteoussalutation. "I missed you suddenly from my side to-day at that--shallI call it tragedy?--for never was a more thrilling scene acted beforethe eyes of man."
"I was taken with a giddiness--a touch of fever," replied the courtieraddressed by the name of Pollux. He looked haggard and pale as hespoke.
"I marvel not--I marvel not if your blood boiled to fever-heat, as didmine!" cried Lycidas. "No generous spirit could have beheld unmovedthose seven Hebrew brethren, one after another, before the eyes oftheir mother, tortured to death in the presence of Antiochus, becausethey refused to break a law which they regarded as divine!"
"Nay," replied Pollux, forcing a smile; "their fate was nothing to me.What cared I if they chose to throw away their lives like fools for anidle superstition!"
"Fools! say rather like heroes!" exclaimed Lycidas, stopping short (forhe had turned and joined Pollux in his walk). "I marvel that you haveso little sympathy for those gallant youths--you who, from your cast offeatures, I should have deemed to be one of their race."
Pollux winced, and knitted his dark brows, as if the remark wereunwelcome.
"I have looked on the Olympic arena," continued Lycidas, resuming hiswalk, and quickening his steps as he warmed with his subject; "I haveseen the athletes with every muscle strained, their limbs intertwined,wrestling like Milo; or pressing forward in the race for the crown andthe palm, as if life were less dear than victory. But never before hadI beheld such a struggle as that on which my eyes looked to-day, wherethe triumph was over the fear of man, the fear of death, where mortalswrestled with agony, and overcame it, silent, or but speaking suchbrave words as burnt themselves into the memory, deathless utterancesfrom the dying! There were no plaudits to encourage these athletes, atleast none that man could hear; there was no shouting as each victorreached the goal. But if the fortitude of suffering virtue be indeed aspectacle on which the gods admiringly look, then be assured that theinvisible ones were gazing down to-day on that glorious arena, ay, andpreparing the crown and the palm! For I can as soon believe,"continued the Athenian, raising his arm and pointing towards thesetting sun, "that that orb is lost, extinguished, blotted out from theuniverse, because he is sinking from our view, as that the noblespirits which animated those tortured forms could perish with them forever!"
Pollux turned his head aside; he cared not that his companion shouldsee the gesture of pain with which he gnawed his nether lip.
"It is certain that the sufferers looked forward to existence beyonddeath," continued the young Athenian. "One of the brothers, as he cameforward to suffer, fixed his calm, stern gaze on Antiochus (I doubt notbut that gaze will haunt the memory of Syria's king when his own dyinghour shall arrive), and said--I well remember his words--'Wickedprince, you bereave us of earthly life; but the King of heaven andearth, if we die in defence of His laws, will one day raise us up tolife eternal.' The next sufferer, stretching forth his hands as if toreceive the palm rather than the executioner's stroke, said, with thesame calm assurance, 'I received these limbs from Heaven, but I nowdespise them, since I am to defend the laws of God; from the sure andsteadfast hope that He will one day restore them to me.' Is itpossible that these men believed that not only souls but bodies wouldrise again--that some mysterious Power could and would restore them tolife eternal? Is this the faith of the Hebrews?" The last questionwas impatiently repeated by Lycidas before it received an answer.
"Some of them hold such a wild faith," said Pollux.
"A sublime, mysterious faith!" observed Lycidas; "one which makes thesouls of those who hold it invulnerable as was the body of Achilles,and without the one weak point. It inspires even women and childrenwith the courage of heroes, as I witnessed this day. The seventh ofthe Hebrew brethren was of tender years, and goodly. Even the kingpitied his youth, and offered him mercy and honours if he would forsakethe law of his God. Antiochus swore that he would raise the youth toriches and power, and rank him amongst his favoured courtiers, if hewould bend to the will of the king. I watched the countenance of theboy as the offer was made. He saw on the one side the mangled forms ofhis brethren--the grim faces of the executioners; on the other, all thepomps and glories of earth: and yet he wavered not in his choice!"
Pollux could hardly suppress a groan, and listened with ill-concealedimpatience as the Athenian went on with his narrative.
"Then the king bade the mother plead with her son, obey the promptingsof nature, and bid him live for her sake. She had stood through allthe fearful scene, not like a Niobe in tears, but with hands claspedand eyes upraised, as one who sees the invisible, and drinks in couragefrom words inaudible to other ears than her own. She heard the king,approached her young son, laid her hand on his shoulder, and gazed onhim with unutterable tenderness. Faith with her might conquer fear,but could only deepen love. She conjured her child, by all that shehad done and suffered for him, firmly to believe, and to fear not.'Show yourself worthy of your brethren,' she said, 'that, by the mercyof God, I may receive you, together with your brothers, in the glorywhich awaits us!' And the fair boy smiled in her face, and followed inthe glorious track of those who had suffered before him, praying forhis country as he died for his faith. Then, in cruelty which acted thepart of mercy, the mother--last of that heroic band--was re-united tothem by death. But I could not stay to look upon _that_ sacrifice,"said Lycidas, with emotion; "I had seen enough, and more than enough!"
"And I have heard enough, and more than enough," muttered Pollux, onwhom the description of the scene given by Lycidas had inflicted keenanguish, the anguish of shame and remorse.
"You pity the sufferers?" observed the Athenian.
"Pity--I envy!" was the thought to which the blanched lips of arenegade dared not give utterance; Pollux but shook his head in reply.
"I would fain know more of the religion of the Hebrews," said Lycidas;"I have heard marvellous stories--more sublime than any that our poetshave sung--of a Deity bringing this people out of Egypt, making a pathfor them through the depths of the sea, reining back its foaming wavesas a rider his white-maned steed; giving to the thirsty--water from therock, to the hungry--bread from the skies, and scattering the foes ofIsrael before them, as chaff is driven by the wind. I have heard ofthe sun's fiery chariot arrested in its course by the voice of a man,speaking with authority given to him by an inspiring Deity. Tell mewhat is the name of the Hebrew's powerful God?"
Pollux pressed his lips closely together; he dared not utter the awfulname of Him whom he had denied. The courtier laid his hand on thejewelled clasp which fastened his girdle; perhaps the movement wasaccidental, perhaps he wished to direct the attention of his companionto the figures of Hercules and the Nemean lion which were embossed onthe gold. "You forget," observed Pollux, "that I am a worshipper ofthe deities of Olympus, that I sacrifice to the mighty Jove."
"I asked not what was your religion," said Lycidas; "my questionregarded that held by the Hebrews, of which you can scarcely beignorant. What is the name of that God whom they would not deny, evento save themselves from torture and death?"
"I cannot tarry here longer, noble stranger," was the hurried reply ofPollux. "The sun has sunk; I must return to t
he city; Antiochus theking expects my attendance at his banquet to-night."
"I am bidden to it, but I go not," said the young Athenian; "slaughterin the daytime, feasting at night--blood on the hands--wine at thelips--I hate, I loathe this union of massacre and mirth! Go you andenjoy the revel in the palace of your king; were I present, I shouldsee at the banquet the shadowy forms of that glorious matron and hersons; I should hear above the laughter, the shout, and the song, thethrilling tones of voices confessing unshaken confidence in the powerand mercy of their God, and the glorious hope of immortality where theoppressor can torture no more."
And with a somewhat constrained interchange of parting courtesies, thefree Greek and the sycophant of a tyrant went on their several ways.