The news of Titus having assumed the command soon reached the miserable city, and filled the greater part of the inhabitant with dismay. They knew his prompt and warlike character, and the devotion which the whole army entertained for him; and they feared that, at the head of such a force, he would never be repulsed from their walls by the divided and seditious troops who now wasted their strength in useless conflicts with each other. No events could have occurred more favourable to the success of the Romans than those which were taking place at this time in Jerusalem. The city was now divided into three distinct factions, and the streets ran with the blood which was shed in their fierce and continual encounters. Instead of endeavouring to organize a regular and efficient defence against the common enemy, each party was engaged in strengthening its own position, or attacking that of its antagonists.

Eleazar, who had been the first to set himself at the head of the Zealots, and seize on the temple as a garrison, beheld the superiority which was assumed by John of Gischala, with rage and jealousy. He affected a holy indignation at the sanguinary outrages daily committed by his rival; and at length he succeeded in drawing off from his party several of the most powerful and influential of his adherents. With these men and their followers he openly abandoned his former associates who remained faithful to John, and retired into the inner court of the temple, where, on the sacred gates facing the Holy of Holies, these savage men suspended their arms, yet reeking with the blood of their fellow-citizens.

In this most sacred spot, where the sounds of the holy instruments of music were wont to be heard, the jests and songs of the profane soldiery now echoed from the walls, and on the steps of the altar lay the expiring forms of men mortally wounded by their own countrymen. A great number of animals intended for sacrifices, and a quantity of other provisions, were found in the stores of the temple, and seized on by Eleazar and his band, who were therefore well supplied with provisions; but they could not venture to sally out on the main body of the Zealots, who so greatly exceeded them in numbers. The height of their position gave them a superiority over John's party, so long as they remained in their stronghold; but though he suffered greatly in every attack which he made on them, yet his rage and resentment would not suffer him to cease from his attempts.

Meanwhile Simon the son of Gioras kept possession of the whole of the upper city and great part of the lower, and he harassed John continually from without, increasing his efforts when he found that his party was weakened by division. But John had here the advantage over Simon that Eleazar had over John, and he succeeded in repelling his assaults with little loss. The ascent to the temple was very steep, and Simon's troops found it both difficult and perilous, for the Zealots had a large number of scorpions, catapultas, and other engines, and with these they repulsed their assailants from below, and checked the party who looked down on them from above. Frequently it happened that the missiles which they discharged against Eleazar and his band, either slew or wounded those unoffending and pious persons who still continued to repair to the spot so hallowed to their memories, in order to offer their prayers and their sacrifices. Not all the horrors and dangers that surrounded them could deter many of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and even strangers from other provinces, from making their way to the temple where their fathers had worshipped; and passing over the marble pavement, now slippery with gore and strewed with the carcasses of the slain, to lay their offerings on the altar of the God of Jacob.

These persons were freely permitted to pass to and fro, unmolested by the garrison, who merely took the precaution of searching them, to discover whether they carried concealed arms; but often, while they were engaged in fervent prayer, they sank expiring on the pavement, either pierced by an arrow or crushed by a heavy stone that came whizzing from the courts below. The noble and pious Zadok was seen to take his place undauntedly by the side of the altar, and to perform his sacred duties with a composure and dignity that commanded the respect even of the lawless and blaspheming ruffians who looked on in scoffing derision at the superstition (as they regarded it) of the worshippers. Many of his sacred brethren were wounded or slain, but he remained unharmed, and daily returned in safety to his anxious wife and daughter, to tell of greater horrors and fiercer conflicts than had disgraced the preceding day.

ZADOK AT THE ALTAR.

More and more deadly did the contest become. Eleazar's band, excited by drunkenness, ventured to sally forth against John, and when, wearied with bloodshed, they retired again to their garrison, he in his turn assaulted Simon. The whole space around the temple became a fearful spectacle of ruin and carnage; and in these wild conflicts the public granaries, that might have sustained the inhabitants for years, were either set on fire or wantonly destroyed by Simon, to prevent their falling into the hands of John.

Thus was the wretched city afflicted. The very power which the short-sighted people had invoked to free them from the tyranny of John, was turned against them and multiplied their miseries. The old men, the women, the helpless and the timid prayed in secret for the arrival of the Romans. They had dreaded this event as the worst of evils when first they heard it threatened; but now they were driven to desperation by their accumulated sufferings, and earnestly desired a foreign foe, as the only hope of deliverance from their domestic enemies. These wishes were, however, carefully repressed, for all the three factions were united on one point—the persecution and destruction, of every individual whom they even suspected of wishing success to the Roman arms. It was sad indeed to behold the deep but silent misery of the people; and still more dreadful was it to witness the inhuman desperation and hardheartedness to which constant danger and constant suffering had driven all ranks of men. The ties of natural affection were extinguished, the nearest relatives were abandoned, and when death had put an end to their woes, their bodies were left unheeded in the streets, to be trampled on by the troops or torn by the dogs.