“War is certain to come--nay, is here now--and there is no other course left for the Sanhedrim but to side with the multitude in their struggle for liberty.” “Not so,” cried some, loudest among them being Ananias. “O then, you will fight on the side of the Romans--a noble act for patriotic Jews!” “There is a third course--to remain neutral,” said Simeon ben Gamaliel. “That way death lies. The people--the fight once begun--will have no neutrals among them. Their cry will be, ‘He that is not with us is against us.’” “We can leave Jerusalem,” said Johanan ben Zacchai. “Not without cutting yourself off from God. The sacrifices through which He is alone accessible--can they be offered anywhere but in that place where He has chosen to put His name? Dare we as priests live apart from the temple? No! And, since we cannot prevent the war, we must seek to guide its course by putting ourselves at the head of the national movement, unless we would see ourselves set aside and relegated to obscurity, and even, it may be, given over to prison and to death. It is clear that----” But at this point the council, at the instigation of Ananias, lifted up their voices in dissent, so loud and so prolonged, that the orator was compelled to come to an end. At the first lull, Ananias bade Matthias put the question to the vote, and, this being done, the proposition for the abolition of the Cæsarean sacrifice was defeated by a considerable majority. “So ends your treason!” sneered Ananias, addressing his son. Eleazar rose, somewhat pale, but with a defiant smile on his lips. “The vote is of no consequence----” he began. “Hark to him!” cried Ananias. “As captain of the temple, I decree that from to-day no more sacrifices shall be offered on behalf of Cæsar.” “And how will you effect your decree?” laughed Ananias. “Why, thus,” replied Eleazar coolly, placing a ram’s horn to his lips, and blowing one sharp, shrill note. At that sound every door opening into the hall Gazith flew wide revealing a sudden blaze of arms. Then, marching with slow and majestic pace, there filed into the chamber a tall and stately band of Nethinim clad in glittering mail. Moving with admirable order, they ranged themselves along the four walls of the chamber, and then stood, shield and spear at their back, as silent and motionless as statues. These Nethinim formed a part of the temple guards, servants of Eleazar, who, independently of their oath of obedience to their captain, were for other reasons devotedly attached to his person. Whatever he should bid them do, that would they do. And what was his bidding to be? The silent Sanhedrim waited in wonder, indignation, fear. “The vote of to-day has taught me,” said Eleazar, “who are the friends and who are the foes of Israel. Let those who are on my side,” he continued, “move to the right.” The invitation was accepted by not more than a dozen members, among them being Matthias the President, and Simeon ben Gamaliel.