Thus in one hundred and fifty or two hundred years after the Jews returned to their own country, we see the rise of institutions adapted to their circumstances as a religious people, small in numbers, poor but free,—­for they were protected by the Persian monarchs against their powerful neighbors.  The largest part of the nation was still scattered in every city of the world, especially at Alexandria, where there was a very large Jewish colony, plying their various occupations unmolested by the civil power.  In this period Ewald thinks there was a great stride made in sacred literature, especially in recasting ancient books that we accept as canonical.  Some of the most beautiful of the Psalms were supposed to have been written at this time; also Apocalypses, books of combined history and revelatory prophecy,—­like Daniel, and simple histories like Esther,—­written by gifted, lofty, and spiritual men whose names have perished, embodying vivid conceptions of the agency of Jehovah in the affairs of men, so popular, so interesting, and so religious that they soon took their place among the canonical books.

The most noted point in the history of the Jews in the dark ages of their history, for two hundred years after their return from Babylon and Persia, was the external peace and tranquillity of the country, favorable to a quiet and uneventful growth, like that of Puritan New England for one hundred and fifty years after the settlement at Plymouth,—­making no history outside of their own peaceful and prosperous life.  They had no intercourse with surrounding nations, but were contented to resettle ancient villages, and devote themselves to agricultural pursuits.  They were thus trained by labor and poverty—­possibly by dangers—­to manly energies and heroic courage.  They formed a material from which armies could be extemporized on any sudden emergencies.  There was no standing army as in the times of David and Solomon, but the whole people were trained to the use of military weapons.  Thus the hardy and pious agriculturists of Palestine grew imperceptibly in numbers and wealth, so as to become once more a nation.  In all probability this unhistorical period, of which we know almost nothing, was the most fruitful period in Jewish history for the development of great virtues.  If they had no heathen literature, they could still discuss theological dogmas; if they had no amusements, they could meet together in their synagogues; if they had no king, they accepted the government of the high-priest; if they had no powerful nobles, they had the aristocratic Sanhedrim, which represented their leading men; if they were disposed to contention, as so many persons are, they could dispute about the unimportant shibboleths which their religious parties set up as matters of difference,—­and the more minute, technical, and insoluble these questions were, the fiercer probably grew their contests.