y his will, came
forward singing towards the altar. All the blood of Phineas boiled in
the veins of his descendant; was the Lord of Hosts to be thus openly
insulted, His judgments thus impiously defied! Forward sprang the old
Asmonean, as if once more endowed with youth, one moment his dagger
glittered in the sunlight, the next moment the apostate groaned out his
soul upon the altar of Bacchus!

To execute justice in this summary manner, and before all the people,
was indeed to draw the sword and throw the scabbard away. A fierce
shout for vengeance arose from the Syrian soldiers, and their ranks
closed around Mattathias, but not around him alone. Not for a minute
had his sons deserted his side, and now, like lions at bay, they united
in the defence of their father. Nor were they to maintain the struggle
unaided. There were Hebrews amongst the assembled crowds to whom the
voice of Mattathias had been as the trumpet-call to the war-horse;
there were men who counted their holy faith as dearer than life.
These, with shouts, rushed to the rescue, and the market-place of Modin
became the scene of a hand-to-hand desperate struggle, where discipline
and numbers on the one side, devotion, heroism, and a good cause on the
other, maintained a fearful strife. Though sharp, it was but a brief
one. The fight was thickest near the altar--around it flowed the blood
of human victims; there the powerful arm of Judas laid Apelles lifeless
in the dust. This was the crisis of the struggle, for at the fall of
their leader the Syrians were seized with sudden panic. The horses,
whose trappings had glittered so gaily, were either urged by their
riders to frantic speed, or dashed with emptied saddles through the
throng, to carry afar the news of defeat. Flight was all that was left
to the troops of Antiochus or the priests of Bacchus, and few succeeded
in making their escape, for many Jews who had stood aloof from the
struggle joined in the pursuit. The very women caught up stones from
the path to fling at the flying foe; children's voices swelled the loud
shout of triumph. The altar of Bacchus was thrown down with wild
exultation; the idol was broken to pieces, and its fragments were
rolled in the blood-stained dust. Those Jews who had shown most fear
an hour before, now by more furious zeal tried to efface from other
minds and their own the memory of their former submission. One spirit
seemed to animate all--the spirit of freed