The Hammer: A Story of the Maccabean Times, Page 2

  CHAPTER I.

  A NEW ORDER OF THINGS.

  The time is the evening of a day in the early autumn of the year 174 B.C.There has been a great festival in Jerusalem. But it has been curiouslyunlike any festival that one would have expected to be held in that famouscity. The people have not been crowding in from the country, andjourneying from their far-off places of sojourn among the heathen, to keepone of the great feasts of the Law. Nothing could be further from thethoughts of the crowd that is streaming out of this new building whichstands close under the walls of the Temple. What would they who built theTemple some two and a half centuries before have thought of this strangeintruder on the sacred precincts? It is not difficult to imagine, for thenew erection is nothing more or less than a Circus, built and furnished inthe latest Greek fashion, and the spectacle which the crowd has beenenjoying, or pretending to enjoy--for it is strange to all, and distastefulto some--is an imitation of the Olympian games. Things then, we see, havebeen curiously changed. Even the city has almost lost its identity. It isno longer the capital of the Jewish nation, but the chief town of aninsignificant province in the Greek kingdom of Syria, one of the fragmentsinto which the great dominion of Alexander had split some hundred andfifty years before. We shall understand something more about thismarvellous change if we listen to a conversation that is going on in oneof the houses that adjoin the Temple.

  "Well, Cleon, you will allow that our little show to-day has been fairlysuccessful. We are but novices, you know; barbarians, I am afraid you willcall us. But we hope to improve. You Greeks are wonderful teachers. Youcan give in a very short time a quite marvellous appearance of refinementto the merest savages. And we are not that; you would not call us savages,my dear friend."

  "Savages! The gods forbid that such insolent folly should ever come frommy tongue! You have a most elegant taste in art, my dear Jason. Our ownCallias--he is our first _connoisseur_ at Athens; you must have heard memention him--would not disdain to have some of the little things which youhave about you here in his own apartment."

  And, as he spoke, Cleon looked round the room, which, indeed, was veryhandsomely furnished in the latest Greek taste. The walls were coveredwith tapestry, showing on a purple ground a design, worked in silver andgold, which represented the triumphant return of the Wine-god from hisEastern campaigns. At one end of the room stood a sumptuously-carvedbookcase, filled with volumes adorned by the most skilful binders ofAlexandria. The bookcase was flanked on either side by a pedestal statue,one displaying the head of Hermes, the other the head of Athene. On asideboard were ranged twelve silver goblets, on which had been worked inhigh relief the labours of Hercules. But probably the most precious objectin the room--at least in its master's estimation--was a replica, about halfthe size of life, of the statue that we know as the "Dying Gladiator." Itwas the work of a sculptor of Pergamum, a special favourite of theart-loving dynasty of the Attali. It had been purchased for the enormoussum of half a talent of gold;(1) and Jason had thought himself especiallyfortunate in being allowed to secure it on any terms. The Pergamene artistwas bound, in consideration of the handsome payment which he received fromhis royal patron, not to execute commissions for strangers, and it wasonly as a special favour, and not till a heavy bribe had been paid to someinfluential personage in the court, that the rule had been relaxed infavour of Jason.

  And who, it may be asked, was Jason?

  Jason was the Jewish high priest, the successor of Aaron, of Eleazar, ofJehoiada, of Hilkiah, and as unlike these worthies of the past inappearance, in speech, in ways of thinking, as it is possible to conceive.His costume, in the first place, was that of a Greek exquisite. He wore apurple tunic, showing at the neck a crimson under-shirt, and gathered upat the waist with a belt of the finest leather, clasped with a design insilver, which showed a dog laying hold of a fawn. His knees were bare, butthe shins were covered with silk leggings of the same colour as the tunic,against which the gold fastenings of the sandals showed in gay relief. Hishair was elaborately curled, and almost dripping with the richest ofSyrian perfumes. The forefinger of the left hand showed the head of Zeusfinely carved on an amethyst, that of the right was circled by a sapphirering with the likeness of Apollo.

  His speech was Greek. Hebrew of course he knew, both in its classical andits conversational forms; but he was as careful to conceal his knowledgeas an old-fashioned Roman of his time would have been careful to hide thefact, if he had happened to know any language besides his own. His veryname, it will have been observed, had been changed to suit the new fashionwhich he was endeavouring to set to his countrymen. Really it wasJoshua--no dishonourable appellation, one would think, seeing that it hadbeen borne by the conqueror of Canaan, and by the most distinguished ofthe later high priests. But it did not please him, and he had changed itto Jason.

  As for his ways of thinking, these will become evident enough if we listento a little more of his conversation.

  "And you think, Cleon," he went on--Cleon was a Greek adventurer who gavehimself out as an Athenian, but who was shrewdly suspected of coming fromone of the smaller islands of the AEgean--"you think that our games wentpretty well?"

  "Admirably, my dear Jason," answered the Greek, who really had thoughtthem a deplorable failure, but who valued too much his free quarters inthe high priest's sumptuous palace to give a candid expression of hisopinion.

  "You see we had great difficulties to contend with. You can hardlyimagine, for instance, how hard I found it to persuade our young men torun and wrestle naked. They quoted some ridiculous nonsense from the Law,as if we could be bound nowadays by some obsolete old rules that nosensible person would think for a moment of observing.(2) You saw, I daresay, to-day that I was obliged to allow some of them to wear a loin-cloth.They positively refused to come into the arena without it. Well, we shalleducate them in time. They _must_ learn to admire the beauty of the humanform, unspoilt by any of the trappings with which, for convenience sake,we are accustomed to conceal it. I don't despair of our having a school ofart here some day--not rivals, my dear Lysias, of your glorious Phidias andPraxiteles, but imitators, humble imitators, whom yet you won't disdain toacknowledge."

  "But, my dear sir, you forget the Commandment, 'Thou shalt not make tothyself any graven image.'"

  The speaker was a young man who had hitherto taken no part in theconversation. He also had a Hebrew name and a Greek. His father, a richpriest who claimed descent from no less a person than the prophet Ezekiel,had called him Micah; but he had followed the fashion, and dubbed himselfMenander. Still, Greek ways and habits did not sit over-easily upon him.Fashion has often a singular power over the young; but it could not quitedrive out the obstinate patriotism of the Jew. He could still sometimes bescandalized at the thorough-going Hellenism of the high priest; and he wasso scandalized now. The Commandment was one of the things which he hadlearnt at his mother's knee, and which he had solemnly repeated when, atthe age of twelve, he had been regularly admitted to the privileges of a"son of the Law."

  "My dear Menander," broke in the high priest, "what can you be thinkingabout? I had hoped better things of you. You do discourage me mostterribly. 'No graven image or likeness of anything that is in heaven orearth!' Was there ever anything so hopelessly tasteless? Why, this is theone thing that has checked all growth of art among us? And without artwhere is the beauty of life? Now tell me, Menander, did you ever seeanything so hideous as the Temple? There is a certain splendour aboutit--or was, till I had to strip off most of the gold for purposes ofstate--but of beauty or taste not a scrap. You, Cleon, have never seen theinside of it. Well, you have lost nothing. It would simply shock you afteryour lovely Parthenon. Bells and pomegranates--things that any mouldercould make--and sham columns, and everything as bad as it can be. And thenthe dresses! You should see--though I should really be ashamed if you didsee it--the absurd costume that some of them would make me wear as highpriest. Anything more cumbrous and clumsy could not be. A
man can hardlymove in it; and as for showing any of the proportions of the figure--and Itake it that dress is meant to reveal while it seems to hide them--onemight as well be wrapped up in swaddling clothes."

  "Did you ever wear it?" asked Cleon.

  "Once, and once only," answered Jason. "That was on the day when I wasadmitted to the office. You see it had to be done. Some of my enemies--andI am afraid that I have enemies after all that I have done for thisungrateful people--might have said that things were not regular without it,and when one has paid twenty talents of gold for the office, it would berank folly to risk it for a trifle. But I have never worn it since, andnever mean to again. I did design something much lighter and neater,worthy the Greek fashion, but with just a tinge--it would be well to have atinge--of our own in it; but it did not please the elders when I showed itto them, a bigoted set of fools!"

  "But your worship is very fine, I am told," said the Greek.

  "Very tasteless, very tasteless," answered the high-priest, "the singingand music as rude as possible. I tried to improve them when I first cameinto office. When I was at Antioch I saw some very pretty performances inthe groves of Daphne, and I wanted to remodel our ceremonies on somethingof the same lines. Of course I could not transplant them just as theywere: you will guess that there were one or two things that would hardlydo here. I am not strait-laced, as you know, but there are limits.However, it all came to nothing. Our people are so clumsy and obstinate.So the only thing will be to let these antiquated ceremonies die out bydegrees."

  Micah broke in at this point. Disposed as he was to follow Jason's lead,this was going too far. "Surely, my dear sir, if you take away from us allthat is distinctive, where will be our reason for existence? After all issaid, we are not Greeks and never can be Greeks; and if we cease to beJews, what are we?"

  "_Jews!_ my dear fellow," cried the high-priest, "why do you use theodious word? We are not Jews, we are Antiochenes. Do you know that I paidfive talents to the treasurer of Antiochus for license to use the name?For Heaven's sake, let us have our money's worth. By the way," he went on,turning to Cleon, "when does your Olympian festival next take place?"

  "In two years' time," said the Greek.

  "I propose to send an embassy with a handsome present for your greattemple. I should like to establish friendly relations with your people atthe head-quarters of your race. Do you think it is possible that ourMenon--you saw him in the stadium just now--might be allowed to run? Itwould take all that your athletes know to beat him."

  "Quite impossible. He could hardly make out a Greek pedigree, I suppose?"

  "No; he could not do that. But would not money smooth the way?"

  "It could not be. Money will do most things with us, as it will elsewhere,but not that. A man must show a pure Greek descent."

  "But the embassy can go?"

  "Certainly," replied the Greek, with a smile; "we are ready to take giftsfrom any one. But--excuse my obtruding the suggestion--is it quite wise torun counter to your people's prejudices in this way? Couldn't they get upan agitation against you?"

  "My dear Cleon, I feel quite easy on that score. I made the highest bidfor the place, and it is mine, just as much as this ring is mine."

  "But might not some one outbid you? I have heard of such things beingdone."

  "Outbid me? Hardly. I have squeezed the uttermost farthing out of thepeople to pay the purchase-money and the tribute, and I defy my rivals,with all the best will in the world, to beat me. Why, my fellows, thetax-gatherers, are the most ingenious rascals in the world for putting onthe screw. I make them bid against each other when I put the taxes up toauction, and they really go to figures that I should not have thoughtpossible. And then, after all, they manage somehow or other to get ahandsome margin of profit for themselves. I know the scoundrels alwaysseem to have a great deal more money than I have."

  Menander, somewhat revolted at his friend's levity, rose to take leave."Stop a moment," said Jason, "I have a little commission for you, whichwill give you a pleasant outing and a score or two of shekels to put inyour pocket."

  "Well, the shekels will be welcome. Those are very charming fellows, thoseGreek friends of yours," he went on, addressing Cleon, "but they have themost confounded luck with the dice that I ever knew. But what is it, sir,that you want me to do?"

  "I want to do a civil thing to our friends at Tyre. You know that we do avery brisk trade with them, and a little bit of politeness is never thrownaway. Well, next month they have the great games of Hercules, and I wantyou to take a present to the Governor, and, as you will be there, just atrifle--a silver tripod, or something of the kind--for Hercules himself. TheTyrian people would take it amiss, I fancy, if you went quiteempty-handed."

  Micah--for at the moment he felt much more like a Micah than aMenander--flushed all over. "I take a present to the idol at Tyre! You mustbe joking; but, with all respect, sir, it is a joke which I do notappreciate."

  "Come, my dear Menander," said the high priest, with a laugh, "why allthis fuss? You must excuse me for saying so, but you are really a littlestupid this morning. What nonsense to talk about idols! The Greek heroesare really the same as our own. Hercules is nothing more or less thanSamson under another name. You will find in every country the legend ofsome strong man who goes about killing wild beasts and slaying hisenemies, and doing all kinds of wonders; and it does not become anenlightened man like yourself to fancy that our hero is anything betterthan another nation's hero. However, think the matter over. If you don'tchoose to go there are plenty who will, and Tyre, I am told, is stillworth seeing, though, of course, it is nothing like what it was."

  At this moment a servant burst somewhat unceremoniously into the room.

  "How now, fellow?" cried the high priest, "Where are your manners? Don'tyou know that I have company and am not to be interrupted?"

  "Pardon, my lord," said the man, in a breathless, agitated voice, "but thematter is urgent. Your nephew Asaph is dying, and has sent begging you tocome to him."

  "Asaph dying!" cried the high priest, turning pale. "How is that?"

  Asaph had been one of the performers in the exhibition of the day. A lightweight, but an exceedingly active and skilful wrestler, he had entered thelists with a competitor much stronger and heavier than himself. Thestruggle between the two athletes had been protracted and fierce and hadended in a draw. There had been two bouts, but in neither had this or thatantagonist been able to claim a decided success. In each, both wrestlershad fallen, Asaph being uppermost in the first, but underneath in thesecond. On rising from the ground he had complained of severe internalpains; but these had seemed to pass away, and he had been conveyed in alitter to his mother's house. After a brief interval the pains hadreturned with increased severity; vomiting of blood had followed, and thephysician had declared that the resources of his art were useless. Thepoor lad--he was but a few months over twenty--sent, in his agony, for hisuncle the high priest. It was a forlorn hope--for how could such a man givecomfort?--but it was the only one that occurred to him.

  No one was more conscious of the incongruity of the task thus imposed uponhim, the task of administering consolation and comfort to the dying, thanJason himself. His first impulse was to refuse to go. But to do so wouldnot only cause a scandal, but would also be the beginning of a familyfeud. And Jason, though selfish and hardened by base ambitions, was notwholly without a heart. He had some affection for his sister, a widow oflarge means, whose purse was always open to him when he wanted help, andAsaph--or Asius, as he preferred to call him--was his favourite nephew,possibly his successor in his office. He felt that he must go, but it waswith a miserable sinking of heart that he felt it.

  "Lead on," he said to the slave, "I will follow. You, my friends, mustexcuse me."

  The worldly priest might well have dreaded to enter the house of woe towhich he had been called.

  The unhappy mother met him at the door. "Oh, Joshua!" she cried, thefoolish affectation of the Greek name being forgotten in the hour
oftrouble. "Can you help us? My dear Asaph is dying, and he is terriblydistressed about his sins. You are high-priest. Have you not some power todo him good?"

  "Take me to him," said Jason, "I will do all that I can for him."

  The unhappy lad was lying on a couch, the deathly pallor of his faceshowing with a terrible contrast against the rich purple of the coverlet.His eyes were wide open, and there was a terror-stricken look in them thatwas inexpressibly painful to witness. As soon as he saw his uncle, heburst forth in tones of agonized entreaty. "I have sinned; I have sinned;I have followed in the ways of the heathen, and, see, my God hath calledme into judgment. Help me! help me! Save me from the fire of Gehenna!"

  The high priest strove to say something; but his faltering lips seemed torefuse to do their office.

  "Speak! speak!" cried the young man. "It was you who told me to go intothe arena. You said there was no harm in it; you encouraged me, and nowyou desert me. O help me!" and his voice, which had been raised to a loud,angry cry, sank again to low tones of entreaty. "You are high priest; yousurely can do something with the Lord. Pray for me to Him. Quick! quick!the evil ones are clutching at me!" and, as he spoke, he turned his eyeswith a fearful glance as if he saw some terrible presence which wasinvisible to the rest.

  His uncle, more unhappy than he had ever been before in his life, stood indumb despair. It seemed impossible to mock this wretched creature withwords in which he did not himself believe. And, indeed, the wordsthemselves seemed to have fled altogether from his memory. At last, with atremendous effort, he summoned up some of the words, once familiar to hislips, but which had not issued from them for years. It was what we know asthe fifty-first Psalm in our psalter that he began--"_Have mercy upon me, OGod, after Thy great goodness, according to the multitude of Thy merciesdo away mine offences._" He began with a faltering and uncertain voice,which gathered strength as he went on. The dying man listened with aneagerly-strained attention, and the words seemed to have some soothingeffect upon him. When the speaker came to the words, "Cast me not awayfrom Thy presence," he clasped his hands together. At the very moment ofthe act a strong convulsion shook his frame: a stream of blood gushed fromhis mouth; in another moment Asaph was dead.

  His unhappy mother had been carried fainting to her apartments, where hermaids were endeavouring to restore her to consciousness. The high priestwas almost glad that she was in such a state that there could be noquestion of attempting to administer to her any consolation. No one,indeed, could have felt less like a comforter than he did at that moment.As he walked slowly back to his palace he felt less satisfied with theGreek fashions, for which he had sacrificed the faith of his fathers, thanhe had done for many years.

  The news that he found awaiting him at home changed the current of histhoughts. A letter, carried, in Eastern fashion, by a succession ofrunners, had arrived from Joppa. It was as follows:--

  "_Josedech, Chief of the Council of Joppa, to Joshua, Governor of Jerusalem._

  "Know that a swift pinnace has arrived, bringing news that the fleet of Antiochus the King is on its way hither. It will arrive, unless it be hindered by weather or any other unforeseen cause, on the second day. Let us know so soon as shall be possible how the heathen should be received, whether we shall admit him into the city, and to whom we shall assign the task of entertaining him. Farewell."

  Jason's face flushed as he read this curt and not very courteous epistle."Governor of Jerusalem, indeed!" he muttered to himself. "So the old bigotwon't acknowledge me to be high priest. I shall have to give him a lesson,and teach him who he is and who I am. 'How the heathen is to be received.'What is the fool thinking of? As if he could be shut out of the city if hechooses to come in! Well, I see plainly enough that there will be mischiefhere, if I don't take care. It won't be enough to write. I must send someof my own people to receive the king."

  He pressed a hand-bell that stood on the table. "Send the letter-carrierhere," he said to the servant who answered the summons. In a few minutesthe man appeared.

  "When can you start back with my answer?" asked the high priest.

  "This instant, my lord, if it should so please you."

  "And the other posts are ready?"

  "Each at his place, my lord."

  "And when will the letter be delivered in Joppa?"

  "Let me think," said the messenger. "The distance should be about twohundred and eighty furlongs, and the way descends. 'Tis now scarcely thefirst hour of the night. I should say that the letter should be there anhour before midnight."

  Jason at once sat down and wrote his answer:--

  "_Jason, the High Priest, to Josedech, Chief of the Council of Joppa, greeting._

  "I charge you that you do all honour to the most mighty and glorious lord Antiochus. Let him have of the best, both in lodging and entertainment, that your city affords. I doubt not your zeal and goodwill, but that you may not fail for want of knowledge, I will send certain of my own people, who will welcome the most august King in such manner as shall be worthy both of his majesty and of our dignity. Farewell."

  The messenger, who had been standing by while this letter was beingwritten, received the document with a salute, and placed it in his girdle.A few minutes afterwards he was on his way.

  "And now for the deputation to meet his Highness," said Jason to himself."I cannot expect them to get off quite so quickly as this good fellow. Butthey must not start later than noon to-morrow. And now, whom am I to send?Cleon, of course, and Menander----"

  He stopped short and reflected. "It's really very hard to find arespectable person who is quite free from bigotry--if, indeed, it isbigotry." For some minutes he seemed lost in thought. "Send the secretaryto me," he said, when the servant came. This official soon made hisappearance, and we will leave him and his master to settle the details ofthe deputation.