The Leader And The Man

: Hebrew Heroes

In the unsettled state of the Holy Land, where its brave sons had to

maintain a kind of guerrilla warfare against the powerful enemy who

held its strongholds and ruled in its capital--where communication

between places not far remote from each other was difficult and

dangerous, and a written letter was a thing almost unknown--the

Asmonean brothers had been in ignorance of many events which have

occupied a large space i
these pages. Joab, therefore, on his arrival

in the camp of the Hebrews, had much to tell that was to them entirely

new.



Judas with thrilling interest had listened to the muleteer's account of

Zarah's peril and escape from the palace of Antiochus, and the deaths

of Hadassah and Pollux. The fount of tenderness which lay concealed

under the chief's usually calm and almost stern exterior was stirred to

its inmost depths. Grief, admiration, love, swelled his brave heart.

Maccabeus could hardly wait to hear the end of Joab's narration. Zarah

was near him--his beauteous, his beloved, his chosen bride--she who had

so suffered and so mourned--the tender orphan maiden bereaved of all

love, all protection save his own--but dearer in her poverty and

desolation than she could have been had she brought him the dowry of an

empire!



It was thus that Maccabeus thought of Zarah, as, with an eagerness of

impatience which could not have brooked an instant's longer delay, he

strode rapidly towards the hut which sheltered his treasure. He soon

beheld her--could it indeed be she? No desolate, weeping, trembling

fugitive met the gaze of the chief; but a maiden bright and fair as the

morn, with a blush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips, her whole

countenance beaming with hope, and her eyes fixed with a lingering look

on a Greek who was disappearing from view in a direction opposite to

that by which Judas had approached her! The depths of the leader's

feelings were again stirred, but this time as by a bar of glowing

red-hot iron.



"Who is yon Gentile?" was the sudden fierce exclamation which burst

from the warrior's lips.



Never before had her kinsman looked so terrible to Zarah as when he

startled her then by his sudden appearance. It was not because she now

saw Maccabeus for the first time arrayed in the harness of battle, his

tall powerful frame partly sheathed in glittering steel, and a plumed

helmet on his head, giving him a resemblance to the description which

she had heard from Lycidas of the fabled god of war; it was the eye,

the manner, the tone of Judas that changed the smile of the maiden in a

moment to a look of embarrassment and fear. Antiochus himself, on his

judgment-seat, had scarcely appeared more formidable to the trembling

captive before him, than did the kinsman who had come to welcome her,

and who would have died to shield her from wrong!



Maccabeus repeated his stern question before Zarah found courage to

reply. "That is Lycidas, the Athenian lord," she faltered; "he whom

you spared by the martyrs' tomb. He has well requited your mercy. He

protected and aided Hadassah to the end, and paid the last honours to

her dear remains; he struck down the Syrian who slew my father.

Lycidas has embraced the Hebrew faith, and has come to fight, and, if

need be, to die in the Hebrew cause!"



The maiden spoke rapidly, and with a good deal of nervous excitement.

She did not venture to glance up again into the face of her kinsman to

see the effect of her explanation, for all the false hopes regarding

his indifference with which she had buoyed herself, had vanished like a

bubble at a touch. Maccabeus did not at once reply. Silently he led

Zarah back into the hut, and motioned to her to take her seat upon a

low heap of cushions which Anna had removed from the litter, and placed

on the earthen floor for the accommodation of her young mistress. He

then dismissed the attendant by a wave of his hand. The profound

gloomy silence of her kinsman was by no means re-assuring to Zarah, who

felt much as a criminal might feel in presence of a judge--albeit in

regard to her conduct towards Lycidas her conscience was clear.



Maccabeus stood before Zarah, the shadow of his form falling upon the

maiden, as he towered tween her and the light, gloomily gazing down

upon her.



"Zarah," he said at last, "there must be no concealment between us.

You know in what relation we stand to each other. You have told me

what that Gentile has been to Hadassah, and to Abner your father; tell

me now, What is he to _you_?"



Zarah struggled to regain her courage, though she knew not how deeply

her evident fear of him wounded the spirit of her kinsman. She did not

dare to answer his question directly. "Lycidas is not a Gentile," she

said; "he is, as you are, a servant of God, a true believer; he has

been fully admitted into all the privileges held by our race."



"Even the privilege of wedding a Hebrew maiden?" inquired Maccabeus

with slow deliberation.



Zarah fancied that his tone was less stern, and was thankful that Judas

had been the one to break ground upon so delicate a subject.



"Hadassah would not have blamed us," she said simply, blushing deeply

as she spoke.



Notwithstanding what had just passed, Zarah was utterly unprepared for

the effect of what was in fact an artless confession. It was not a

groan nor a cry that she heard, but a sound that partook of the nature

of both; a sound that the last turn of the rack could not have forced

from the breast that uttered it now! It was the expression of an agony

which few hearts have affections strong enough to feel, fewer still

could have fortitude to sustain. No death-wail, no cry of woe, no

shriek of pain that Zarah had ever listened to, smote on her soul like

that sound! She heard it but once--it was never heard but once--and

before she had recovered from the shock which it gave her, Judas had

rushed forth from the hut. He was as one possessed; so fierce were the

demons of jealousy and hatred that for a space held reason, conscience,

every power of mind and soul in subjection. One wild desire to kill

his rival, to tear him limb from limb, seemed all that had any definite

form in that fearful chaos of passion. It was well for Lycidas that he

did not then cross the path of the lion!



Maccabeus plunged into the depths of a wood that was near, seeking

instinctively the thickest shade afforded by evergreen trees. He would

fain have buried his anguish from the sight of man in the darkest

cavern--in the deepest grave! The very sunlight was oppressive!



All lost--all rent away from him for ever! What hope had clung to,

what love had treasured through the long, long years of waiting, giving

new courage to the brave, new energy to the weary! Youth, happiness,

the cup of joy just filled to the brim by the coming of Zarah, without

one moment's warning dashed from the lips of him who loved her, and the

last drops sucked up by the thirsty sand! The miseries of a long life

seemed to be crowded into the few minutes during which the leader of

the Hebrews, the hope of Judah, lay prostrate on the earth, clinching

the dust in his despair.



Hatred and jealousy raged within; and a yet darker demon had joined

them, one whose presence, above all others, makes the soul as a hell!

Like burning venom-drops fell the suggestions of rebellious unbelief

upon the spirit of the disappointed man. "Is it for this that you have

washed your hands in innocency, and kept your feet in the paths of

truth? Is it for this that you have devoted all your powers to God and

your country, have shrunk from no toil, and dreaded no danger? He whom

you were faithfully serving hath not watched over your peace, nor

guarded for you that treasure which you had confided to his care. What

profit is there in obedience, what benefit in devotion? Prayer has

been but vanity, and faith but self-deception!"



Such moments as these are the most terrible in the experience of a

servant of the Lord. They afford a glimpse of the depths of guilt and

misery to which the noblest human soul would sink without sustaining

grace; they show that, like the brightest planet, such soul shines not

with light of its own, but with an imparted radiance, deprived of which

it would be enveloped in utter darkness. An Abraham, left to himself,

could lie; a David stain his soul with innocent blood. All need the

Sacrifice of Atonement, all require the grace which comes from above.



But Judas Maccabeus was not left unaided to be carried away to an abyss

of crime by his own wild passions. They were as a steed accustomed to

obey the rein of conscience, that, smitten with agonizing pain, has

taken the bit into its teeth, and rushed madly towards a precipice.

But the hand of its rider still grasps the bridle, his eye sees the

danger in front, and the frantic animal beneath him has but for a brief

space burst from his master's powerful constraint. If the rider cannot

otherwise stop his wild steed, he will strike it down with a heavy

blow, that by a lesser fall the greater may be avoided; and so he leads

it back to its starting-place, quivering, trembling in every limb, the

sweat on its flanks, the foam on its bit, but subdued, submissive,

under command. Even so with the Hebrew chief, conscience regained its

habitual sway over the passions; as soon as the anguish of his soul

found vent in prayer, the crisis of danger was past. Maccabeus rose

from the earth, pale as one who has received a death-wound, but

submissive and calm.



"Shall one who has been so favoured, beyond his hopes, far beyond his

deserts, dare to repine at the decree of Him who orders all things in

wisdom and goodness?" Thus reflected the chief. "Who am I, that I

should claim exemption from disappointment and loss? Shame on the

leader who gives way to selfish passion, and at such a time as this!

We shall shortly close in battle; and if in that battle I fall" (the

thought brought strange consolation), "how shall I look back from the

world of spirits on that which for a time could almost shake the trust

of this unworthy heart in the God of my fathers? If I survive the

perils of the day, better it is that there should be no selfish hopes,

no selfish cares, to prevent me from concentrating all my energies and

thoughts upon the work appointed me to do. I have been wasting my time

in idle dreams of earthly enjoyment; I have been rudely awakened. O

Lord of hosts, strengthen Thy servant to arise and gird up his spirit

to perform fearlessly and faithfully the duties of the day!"



Then, with slower step and calmer aspect, Judas Maccabeus returned to

his camp.



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