Naomi

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

CHAPTER XXIII.

The son of Ananus no longer passed up and down the streets of Jerusalem uttering his warning and prophetic cry. He was neither seen nor heard from the day that the siege began. The woes which he had so long and so perseveringly denounced were come in all their dread reality. Famine, with its attendant miseries, was felt throughout the city, and with the general distress the desperation of the insurgents increased also. There was no longer any corn to be seen in the markets for sale, and if the ruffian soldiers heard of any being concealed in private houses, they furiously broke them open and dragged away the treasure. If they were disappointed in the search, they tortured the wretched inhabitants to make them disclose and deliver up what they frequently did not possess. Humanity shudders at the horrid recital of the barbarity exercised by these monsters, and the sufferings of their miserable victims; which were aggravated by seeing their tyrants revelling in plenty, and even in intemperance while they were expiring for want. Every natural affection, every generous sentiment, was destroyed by the all-absorbing hunger that raged among all classes. The dearest and the closest ties were severed, and those who would in happier times have laid down their lives to preserve those of their husbands, their wives, their children, and other beloved relatives, now were seen to snatch from their dying grasp the last morsel of food, and greedily devour it before their eyes. Oh these were days of sorrow such as never had been, and may God grant they never may be again! The grey hairs of old age, and the helpless innocence of childhood excited no compassion—all were alike sacrificed to the cruel selfishness that reigned triumphant in that abode of crime and horror.

And were there no exceptions to this awful state of sin and pollution? Had the Lord God of Holiness and mercy no sanctuary left in that once blessed city? Blessed be His name, amidst so many who profaned His dwelling-place, there were yet a few in whom His image dwelt, and who thought upon his commandments to do them. In the house of Zadok, piety, charity, faith, and resignation glowed with an inextinguishable flame, and its inmates were as a burning and a shining light in the midst of a thick darkness. The influence of Javan over the partizans of Simon was sufficient to preserve his family from the visits of the plunderers, or if a few of the ruffians attempted to enter the gates, they found them too well secured and guarded; and hitherto the effects of the famine had not been felt so powerfully in that habitation as in almost every other. Zadok had foreseen what must be the unavoidable consequence of the waste and destruction of provisions that had been committed by the members of every faction before the commencement of the siege, and he had taken the precaution to lay up large stores of corn and other articles of food against the day of necessity. These stores were unknown to the insurgents, or doubtless even the protection of Simon himself would have failed to save the dwelling from their attacks, or the inhabitants from outrage and slaughter. The provisions thus preserved were not kept for the use of Zadok's family, but were freely bestowed on those who had taken refuge in his house, and on many others who knew his benevolence and came secretly to share it. He himself, and all belonging to his establishment, allowed themselves no more sustenance than was barely sufficient to support life, that they might have more to give to those who needed; and their wasted forms and pallid cheeks would have prevented any suspicion that they yet possessed the means of living in plenty.

The days, the weary days, passed on; and the provisions in Zadok's secret storehouse rapidly diminished. With great reluctance he was compelled to restrain his liberal spirit, and refuse all further aid to those who were not of his own household. The strangers who had so long found an asylum beneath his roof, went forth to seek a subsistence elsewhere, but they only found death in some of its most dreadful forms. Naomi wept in secret over the sufferings which she could no longer relieve; but when she sat by the side of her mother, or glided about, a shadow of her former self, to minister to her wants, she forced an appearance of cheerfulness which was far from her compassionate heart. It was with gratitude and joy she watched that beloved mother, and saw her daily fading away; for though "the outward man decayed, the inward man was renewed day by day;" and she knew that death would be a kind and welcome visitor, to take her from a scene of surpassing woe, to the presence of her Saviour and her God. Zadok too was resigned to part with the object of his love, rather than see her linger in protracted sorrow and anxiety; but grief would frequently unman his soul, and tears would start to his gazing eye, while he looked on the sinking form of her whom he loved with a devoted affection, and who had been the light and the joy of his life.

Many hours in every day he passed from home, in fruitless efforts to lessen the misery that surrounded him, and to pour the balm of religious consolation into the bleeding hearts of his dying and despairing fellow-citizens; and when, wearied with exertion and oppressed with sorrow, he returned to his home, it was with difficulty that he roused himself to speak cheeringly to his dying wife, and his afflicted but uncomplaining daughter. Zadok knew that Naomi had no hopes of her country being delivered from the Roman yoke; he knew also that she looked for the accomplishment of every word of those terrible predictions pronounced on the city by Jesus of Nazareth; and he marvelled greatly at the firmness and resignation with which she supported these prospects of desolation. But he did not know the inward peace that pervaded her soul, in spite of outward trials, and which was the result of her unshaken confidence in Him whom Zadok despised. He did not know that such a faith in a crucified Redeemer as glowed in the breast of Naomi, could enable a weaker mind than hers to triumph over all the ills that flesh is heir to, or he would have ceased to wonder at her cheerful patience, and at the smile with which she strove to greet him on his return from his daily occupations. It was for the sufferings of others that Naomi mourned, and for the spiritual darkness of her countrymen, especially her dearly-loved father and erring brother: for herself life had little charm, and death no terrors; and her most earnest prayer was that the Lord might see good to take her to himself shortly after her mother's removal, and ere the city should be given up to the outrages of a conquering army. It was only when she thought of Marcellus that a bursting sigh would rise, and a bitter tear tremble in her eye. It was sad to think how soon that heart which was devoted only to her would have to mourn her loss; and that eye which had looked on her with admiring pride and love, would seek her among the mangled bodies of the famished and the slain.

Zadok lamented and deeply sympathised in the miseries of his nation, but he did not yet despair of her final triumph. He could not yet believe that the God of Israel had abandoned his favoured people, and the city where his glory had dwelt; and though heavy were the chastisements with which He was now visiting the sins of his children, yet the priest trusted that He would era long remove the rod of his anger, and stand up to deliver them from the oppressor. In this hope he sustained his own dauntless courage, and excited others to the same confidence. Javan was even more sanguine than his father: he exulted in the desperate condition to which Jerusalem was reduced, for he hoped that when the hour of her greatest darkness had arrived, then would the "Sun of Righteousness arise, with dealing in his wings;" then would the great Messiah appear, to triumph over every foe, and reign "before his ancients gloriously."

The rabbi Joazer also shared these hopes, and frequently expressed them to Salome, when he came to visit her, and sought to cheer her drooping spirits. He readily perceived that she did not enter into his expectations of future victory, and he taunted Naomi with having filled her mother's mind with her own heretical fears. Naomi did not deny the charge; she wished that Salome would take courage to confess her faith ere her weakness should become too great for the effort; but when she gently urged her to do so, she always replied that she had not then the power; and her daughter feared that she would depart without making one effort for her husband's conversion. The fear of death had ever been a powerful feeling with Salome; and its near approach had not yet lessened its terrors. Her hope of future blessedness was daily growing stronger and clearer, but her dread of the dark valley of the shadow of death, by which she must pass to her glorious rest, appeared unconquerable, and was the cause of much anxiety to Naomi. Many and fervent were the prayers she offered up at the throne of grace for her mother's support and comfort when the trying hour should arrive; and unweariedly did she endeavour to strengthen her soul with the blessed promises of God, that He will be with his people in the time of weakness, and at the hour of death.

For a time her efforts would sometimes appear successful, and Salome would recover the naturally placid expression of her countenance, but ere long the same doubts and distressing fears would arise and the same restlessness return. Then she would call on Naomi, and entreat her again to repeat the same words of consolation, and pour forth her prayers in her behalf. If Naomi was absent, her faith failed; but while she hung over her, and whispered to her the encouraging promises of Scripture, she felt calm and joyful. She was sorely tempted of Satan; but when she could wield the sword of the Spirit, and shelter herself behind the shield of faith, she was enabled to quench all his fiery darts, and baffle his reiterated attacks. There was one point on which she was very anxious, and suffered many fears; and that was whether she could be accepted by Christ as one of his children, when she had not been admitted by baptism into his visible church; and it required all Naomi's arguments to convince her that as the appointed rite was out of her power, a willing heart and obedient spirit would be as acceptable to her merciful Lord, as if she had enjoyed all the privileges and advantages of partaking in his sacraments. When the tempter was baffled at one point he harassed her at another; but "He who was on her side, was greater than all that were against her;" and he gave to Naomi the happy privilege of soothing her mother's fears and stilling her doubts. Her precious copy of the Gospel was now doubly valuable to her, since she was permitted to read it to her dying parent, and witness the peace and joy which she derived from listening to it. She grieved that Salome still enjoined her to conceal it whenever Zadok entered the house, or approached the terrace where she loved to repose during the cool evening hours; but she waited in faith and patience for the time when her timidity should cease, and she should obtain an answer to her prayers. Her tender assiduity was also engaged in daily efforts to save her mother from bodily privations, and furnish her every indulgence and comfort that her weakness required. Little food of any kind remained, and that was mostly of the coarsest description; but Naomi could look from the terrace, and behold her father's garden beyond the walls, where the ripe fruit was hanging in clusters. Could she not obtain some to cool the parched lips, and allay the feverish thirst of her mother?

She did not communicate her bold scheme to Salome, for she knew that she would forbid her attempting it; but she applied to the faithful and devoted Deborah, and with some difficulty persuaded her to consent to share the enterprise. With trembling steps these two defenceless women issued from the private gate at the back of Zadok's house, and with many a fearful glance on either side, passed rapidly down the unfrequented lane that led to the wall of the city. A sentinel was posted at the narrow gate through which she had so often passed in former days to bend her steps towards Bethany, but he was one of her father's own retainers, for the care of that entrance was committed by Simon to the priest. The man at first refused to let her pass, but at length he was moved by her entreaties, and unlocked the heavy portal, on her promise to return with the greatest speed. His life would have been forfeited if his breach of orders had been discovered; but he could not refuse the urgent request of his young mistress; and that part of the town was then almost deserted, as all the troops were engaged at the northern wall, except a few sentinels who kept watch over the movements of the tenth legion on the Mount of Olives. The garden of Zadok was extensive, and part of it reached almost to the foot of the wall which circumstance had preserved it from the destruction that had fallen on all the orchards and gardens at a greater distance. The troops also who were encamped on the opposite hill had hitherto been employed in constructing their mounds and intrenchments; and no attack had been made on the eastern side of the city. Naomi darted forward with rapid footsteps, and in a few minutes she had gathered as much fruit as her enfeebled hands could carry. Her heart beat violently with fear, but she blessed God for the treasure she had obtained, and hastily called on Him to protect her. Followed by Deborah, breathless with fear and speed, she regained the gate, which was immediately opened by the sentinel, and as speedily closed and secured. She hoped that all danger was past; but who can conceive her terror when she saw a party of Simon's men appear, who, on perceiving her, rushed towards the spot where she stood! She sprang forwards with her burden, in the hope of reaching the entrance to her father's house, and Deborah attempted to follow her; but their trembling feet were unable to save them, aid the ruffians surrounded and seized them. Naomi sank on her knees, and while the prize which she had encountered so much danger to obtain, fell on the ground, she buried her face in the folds of her garment, and implored the mercy of those wretches who knew not what mercy meant. At this moment the voice of Javan sounded in her ears, and looking up, she beheld her brother, who gazed upon her with astonishment and displeasure. He was leader of the party who had thus intercepted her return, and he had followed them more slowly when he saw them rush upon their prey. Little did he suspect that it was his sister who was thus in the power of the savage crew, until the sound of his voice caused her to raise her head, and he beheld her pale and terrified countenance. With a stern authority he commanded his men to let her go free, and they sullenly obeyed him; but it was with the angry look of a beast of prey, compelled to relinquish its intended victim at the word of its more cruel and powerful master.

Javan then raised his sister, and demanded for what cause she had ventured out, and where she had procured the fruit which lay scattered around her. He was astonished at the boldness of her enterprise, when she informed him that she had been to the garden beyond the walls, and could not refuse his admiration at the filial devotion which had prompted her to make such a perilous attempt. He conducted her to the door of Zadok's house, closely followed by the terrified Deborah, who, in spite of her alarm, had gathered up the fallen fruit that was within her reach, and bore it off amid the fierce glances of the soldiers. They did not dare to snatch it from her; but they muttered curses on their leader, who had overawed their violence and prevented their cruelty. Javan had saved his sister from the consequences of her temerity, but he determined to execute prompt vengeance on the sentinel who had permitted her to take so daring a step. He returned to his men, and seeing their looks of rage and disappointment, he commanded them to allay their thirst for blood by slaying the unfaithful sentinel. In a moment they transfixed him with their lances, and then threw his bleeding corpse at the threshold of Zadok's house, as a warning to his daughter that her excursions exposed both herself and others to peril. The ruffians then opened the gate, and rushed tumultuously out in search of those fruits which had tempted Naomi. Javan did not attempt to restrain them, for he feared to chafe their angry spirits too much, and he suffered them to gratify their love of destruction by breaking and cutting down the luxuriant trees and plants, after they had gathered the fruit. Some they carried away, but much more they trampled beneath their feet, and then returned again to the gate. Javan left two of the party to act as sentinels in the place of him whom they had slain, and led on the rest of the band to execute the business which had called for their exertions, when their attention had been diverted by the appearance of Naomi and her attendant.

Salome had been carried out to her customary place on the terrace, and was reclining there, when Naomi returned to her, paler than ever, and greatly agitated, but still with an expression of joy lighting up her countenance.

"Where have you been, my child?" asked Salome eagerly; "and why have you been so long absent? Have you been to Mary's house, and brought from her garden those beautiful grapes?"

"No, mother, Mary's garden has been long ago exhausted of all that it produced. These grapes I gathered from the vines which last summer you trained over the entrance to our own garden by the brook."

"What can you mean, Naomi! Have you ventured beyond the walls? You could not have been so rash?"

"I saw your feverish cheek and parched lip, my mother, and I saw these clustering grapes and ripe figs hanging in our own beautiful garden. Can you wonder that I should make an effort to obtain them for you?"

"Bless thee, my dearest Naomi. But the risk was too great, and you must not venture again. Did you meet no one by the way? I heard a noise of shouting and violence in the street beneath the wall."

"It was a party of Javan's soldiers," replied Naomi. "They did alarm me greatly; but the Lord preserved me, and sent my brother to deliver me out of their hands."

"Then you have indeed been exposed to danger, and for my sake, Naomi. Never, never again let your anxiety for my comfort lead you to take such a step. Rather would I bear the extremity of suffering and want, than that you should encounter the risk of meeting those lawless ruffians who are the scourge of our unhappy city. Promise me, my child, that you will not again set your foot beyond these walls, which by God's blessing have hitherto protected us from their violence."

"I shall not again be tempted by the fruitfulness of that beloved spot yonder," answered Naomi with a sigh. "Look, mother, the spoilers are there. I see them cutting down and wantonly destroying all the plants and flowers, in which we used to take so much delight. There, there they fall beneath the strokes of their swords, and the fertile garden is becoming a desert."

Naomi turned away, unwilling any longer to witness the havoc and destruction of the trees beneath whose shade she had passed the happiest hours of her childhood and youth. Just then the little David came bounding along the terrace towards her, and called away her attention by his playful caresses. He came for the daily supply of food which Naomi denied to herself that she might bestow it on him. She could not bear to see his little dimpled cheek grow pale and wan, and his bright laughing eye look dim with pining want; and to supply the deficiency of nourishment which his mother was now unable to prevent, she every day laid by a portion for her little favourite.

The house of Mary was at a very short distance from that of Zadok, and when the street was empty, the little boy used to come day by day for his accustomed meal. How joyfully he smiled when Salome beckoned him to the side of her couch, and placed in his hands a bunch of grapes that they could hardly hold! The little fellow eagerly swallowed a few of the delicious fruit, and then pausing, he exclaimed,

"I will take them to my mother; she said she was very hungry, and her cheek looked very pale when I kissed her and came away. These grapes will do her good."

"You shall take her some more, my dear boy," said Salome: "I fear she suffers much distress and want Would to God that I could relieve her."

The grateful happy child received the gift with joy, and calling his nurse, hurried back to share the unusual luxury with his mother. Mary was indeed reduced to a degree of privation and want, which her delicate and luxurious mode of life had made her quite unequal to bear with fortitude or patience. Her temper was naturally irritable and uncontrolled, and now anxiety, and fear, and distress had made her still more the slave of passion. She sat gloomy and distracted in her chamber, when her lovely boy ran towards her with childish glee, and presented his welcome offering. Mary snatched the fruit and eat it hastily. She did not look pleased, as David had expected, but she gazed wildly at him, and burst into tears.

"Why do you weep, mother?" asked the child. "I thought that you would smile and thank me, as I thanked the good Salome."

"I weep because my heart is sad," replied Mary. "The heiress of Bethezob is reduced to beggary, and her child is fed by the charity of others. O my father, if thou hadst foreseen the sufferings of thy daughter, it would have broken thy heart, which lived but in me, and the hope of my happiness. Alas! the spoiler has taken all the wealth which thou didst bequeath to me. My friends have forsaken me, my domestics despise and rob me, and I am desolate and miserable."

It was too true. Mary had lived in dissipation; and those who gladly frequented her house when they found splendour and profusion there, abandoned her when she had no longer the means of entertaining them. She had neglected the friendship of Zadok and his family; and though her child spent much of his time with them, she had seldom crossed their threshold since she had ceased to be an inmate of their house. Now that she was in distress, pride withheld her from seeking their society; and though she received from them almost all her means of subsistence, it was with a sullen and ungracious spirit. It was from the vengeance of Isaac, and the treachery of her servant Reuben, that she had suffered the loss of almost all her property. She confided blindly in the supposed integrity of Reuben, and he knew where she had concealed the most valuable of her possessions. He failed not to inform his employer Isaac of what was told to him in confidence, and ere long a band of Zealots entered and pillaged the house. It was a part of their orders to carry off the lady of Bethezob to the head-quarters of their party in the temple; but she succeeded in eluding their search, and remained free, but deprived of all that might avail to procure the necessaries of life as the scarcity and famine increased. A measure of wheat was now worth far more than its weight in gold, and the vilest rubbish was eagerly purchased at a high price by those who still had money in their possession. All the grass and herbs that could be found in the city were used as food by those who were destitute of any other means of subsistence; and many of the poorest of the people would steal out, and wander by night down the ravines, in the hope of picking up something to allay the torments of hunger. These wretched creatures would willingly have fled, and deserted to the Romans: but they hesitated to forsake their wives and children, who were sure to be cruelly murdered as soon as it was known that their husbands and fathers had left the city. Titus discovered the practice of these men, and set an ambush to surprise and take them prisoners. When they were attacked they made a vigorous resistance, but they were overpowered and carried to the camp.

For the crime of defending themselves, they were barbarously scourged and tortured, and then hung up before the walls writhing in the agony of crucifixion. Again and again others were driven by despair and famine to make the same attempt at obtaining relief, and the same dreadful fate awaited them. When morning dawned upon that ill-fated city, it often displayed to the view of the horror-stricken inhabitants as many as five hundred crosses, each supporting a tortured victim. The Roman soldiers added ridicule and insult to their cruelty, and fastened the bodies in every sort of ludicrous position, taunting and reviling the miserable beings while they expired in agony. The spots chosen for these appalling scenes were at length crowded with crosses, and wood was wanting to furnish fresh implements of torture for the prisoners who were nightly brought in. Nothing can be said to extenuate the guilt and inhumanity of these executions. They were a fearful example of heathen barbarity in the most civilized nation of that period, and by the command of one of her most enlightened generals. Titus believed that by these awful and repeated warnings he should weary the people of resistance, and convince them that it was better to throw themselves openly on his mercy; and he also feared that it would be unsafe to let them escape. In vain Marcellus pleaded with his noble commander, and besought him almost with tears of agony, to forbear this wanton infliction of death and torment. His expostulations moved the general to sympathy, but failed to make him change his cruel policy.

The effect produced on the besieged by these executions was contrary to that which Titus expected. The Zealots seized on the friends and relatives of the victims and dragging them to the walls and towers, compelled them to behold the dreadful spectacle of Roman cruelty. This checked the desertions; and none fled to the camp of the besiegers but those who preferred running the risk of immediate death rather than remaining to suffer the slower torments of hunger. Some of these were sent back into the city by Titus with their hands cut off and a message to John and Simon, exhorting them to capitulate before it was too late, and not force him to destroy both the city and the temple.

Instead of complying with this advice, John commenced undermining the embankments on which the Roman engines were placed. He carried a quantity of combustibles to the spot; and when all the machines were erected and ready to begin their attack, he set fire to the pitch and sulphur, and immediately the ground began to rock and heave as with an earthquake. Volumes of smoke and flame issued from the ground, and the embankment, with all the ponderous engines, fell into the fiery abyss. Thus the works which had cost the Romans seventeen days of constant labour were destroyed in an hour. The army were greatly discouraged at this and other losses which were effected by the desperate valour of the Jews. Titus called a council of his officers, and proposed to them that they should either storm the city immediately, repair the works and resume the siege, or else draw a complete line of circumvallation round it, and starve the garrison to surrender. The last of these plans was decided on, and immediately executed. In three days the trench and embankment were completed, and extended a distance little less than five miles.

Naomi could watch the progress of this work along the Valley of Kedron and the Mount of Olives, and with the sad reality before her eyes she remembered how the pitying Jesus had declared that "the days should come when the enemies of Jerusalem should cast a trench about her, and keep her in on every side;" and she looked for the speedy accomplishment of the remaining part of the denunciation, "and they shall lay thee even with the dust, and thy children within thee, because thou knowest not the time of thy visitation."

Salome had ceased to occupy her usual position on the terrace. Her weakness had greatly increased, and she had received a shock to her feelings the last time she had been carried out, which had almost overpowered her. She had desired to enjoy the early morning air, and watch the sun rising gloriously over the Mount of Olives, and she was borne as usual to her couch. But what was her horror on looking towards the mount, to behold the summit crowned with crosses, and to perceive that each cross was furnished with a living victim! A deadly faintness overcame her, and she was carried back to her chamber in a state of unconsciousness. When she recovered, the impression of the dreadful spectacle clung to her mind, and she could not shake it off for several days. Her weakness and exhaustion were considerably augmented by the shock, and it was evident to Naomi and her father that the beloved sufferer had not long to live.

Naomi rejoiced to perceive that as her mother's bodily powers failed, her soul was strengthened, and her desire to bear a good testimony to the grace of her Redeemer before she departed became fixed and strong. The dread of death subsided, and she looked for its approach with calmness and peace. Her only fear was now for the fate of Naomi, and though she tried to put her trust in the Lord, and commit her child to Him in confidence, she could not think of leaving her in that distracted city without grief and anxiety.