The clatter of arms which Apollodorus and his guests had heard proceeded
not from the Jew’s besiegers, but from some Roman soldiers who brought
safety to the besieged.
It was Verus, who as he was returning from the supper he had given his
veterans, with an officer of the Twelfth Legion and his British slaves,
had crossed the Canopic way and had been impeded in his progress by the
increasing crowd which stood before Apollodorus’ house. The praetor had
met the Jew at the prefect’s house, and knew him for one of the richest
and shrewdest men in Alexandria. This attack on his property roused his
ire; still he would certainly not have remained an idle spectator even
if the house in danger, instead of belonging to a man of mark, had been
that of one of the poorest and meanest, even among the Christians. Any
lawless act, any breach of constituted order was odious and intolerable
to the Roman; he would not have been the man he was if he had looked on
passively at an attack by the mob, in times of peace, on the life
and property of a quiet and estimable citizen. This licentious man of
pleasure, devoted to every enervating enjoyment, in battle, or whenever
the need arose, was as prudent as he was brave.
He now first ascertained what purpose the excited crowd had in view, and
at once considered the ways and means of frustrating their project. They
had already begun to batter the Jew’s door, and already several lads
were standing on the roof of the arcades with burning torches in their
hands.
Whatever he did must be done on the instant, and happily Verus had the
gift of thinking and acting promptly. In a few decisive words he begged
his companion, Lucius Albinus, to hurry back to his old soldiers and
bring them to the rescue; then he desired his slaves to force a way for
him with their powerful arms up to the door of the house. This feat
was accomplished in no time, but how great was his astonishment when he
found the Emperor standing there.
Hadrian stood in the midst of the crowd, and at the instant when Verus
appeared on the scene had wrenched the torch out of the hand of the
infuriated tailor. At the same time, in a thundering voice, he commanded
the Alexandrians--who were not accustomed to the imperial tone--to
desist from their mad project. Whistling, grunting, and words of scorn
overpowered the mandate of the sovereign, and when Verus and his slaves
had reached the spot where he stood, a few drunken Egyptians had gone
up to him and were about to lay hands on the unwelcome counsellor. The
praetor stood in their way. He first whispered to Hadrian that Jupiter
ought to be ruling the world, and might well leave it to smaller folks
to rescue a houseful of Jews; and that in a few seconds the soldiers
would arrive. Then he shouted to him in a loud voice:
“Away from this Sophist! Your place is in the Museum, or in the temple
of Serapis with your books, and not among the misguided and ignorant.
Am I right Macedonian citizens, or am I wrong?” A murmur of assent was
heard which became a roar of laughter when Verus, after Hadrian had got
away, went on:
“He has a beard like Caesar, and so he behaves as if he wore the purple!
You did well to let him escape, his wife and children are waiting for
him over their porridge.”
Verus had often been implicated in wild adventure among the populace and
knew how to deal with them; if he now could only detain them till the
advent of the soldiers he might consider the game as won. Hadrian could
be a hero when it suited him; but here where no laurels were to be won,
he left to Verus the task of quieting the crowd.
As soon as he was fairly gone Verus desired his slaves to lift him on
their shoulders; his handsome good-natured face looked down upon the
crowd from high above them. He was immediately recognized, and many
voices called out:
“The crazy Roman! the praetor! the sham Eros!”
“I am he, Macedonian citizens, yes, I am he,” answered Verus in a clear
voice. “And I will tell you a story.”
“Listen, Listen.”
“No let us get into the Jew’s house.”
“Presently--listen a minute to what the sham Eros says.”
“I will knock your teeth down your throat boy, if you don’t hold your
tongue.”
All the crowd were shouting in wild confusion.
Curiosity, on the one hand, to hear the noble gentleman’s speech, and
the somewhat superficial fury of the mob contended together for a few
minutes; at last curiosity seemed to be gaining the day, the tumult
subsided, and the praetor began:
“Once upon a time there was a child who had given to him ten little
sheep made of cotton, little foolish toys such as the old women sell in
the market place.”
“Get into the Jew’s house, we don’t want to hear children’s stories--”
“Be quiet there!”
“Hush now listen; from the sheep he will go on to the wolves.”
“Not wolves--it will be a she-wolf!” some one shouted in the throng.
“Do not mention the horrid things!” laughed Verus, “but listen to
me.--Well, the child set his little sheep up in a row each one close to
the next. He was a weaver’s son. Are there any weavers here? You? and
you--ah, and you out there. If I were not my father’s son I should like
to be the son of an Alexandrian weaver. You need not laugh!--Well, about
the sheep. All the little things were beautifully white but one which
had nasty black spots, and the little boy could not bear that one. He
went to the hearth, pulled out a burning stick and wanted to burn the
little ugly sheep so as only to have pretty white ones. The lambkin
caught fire and just as the flame had begun to burn the wooden skeleton
of the toy a draught from the window blew the flame towards the other
little sheep and in a minute they were all burned to ashes. Then thought
the little boy, ‘If only I had let the ugly sheep alone! What can I
play with now?’ and he began to cry. But this was not all, for while
the little rascal was drying his eyes, the flame spread and burnt up the
loom, the wool, the flax, the woven pieces, the whole house--the town
in which he was born, and even, I believe, the boy himself!--Now worthy
friends and Macedonian citizens, reflect a moment. Any man among you who
is possessed of any property may read the moral of my fable.”
“Put out the torches!” cried the wife of a charcoal dealer.
“He is right; for by reason of the Jew, we are putting the whole town in
danger!” cried the cobbler.
“The mad fools have already thrown in some brands!”
“If you fellows up there fling any more I will break your ankles for
you,” shouted a flax-dealer.
“Don’t try any burning,” the tailor commanded, “force open the door and
have out the Jew.” These words raised a storm of applause and the mob
pressed forward to the Jew’s abode. No one listened to Verus any more,
and he slipped down from his slave’s shoulders, placed himself in front
of the door and called out:
“In the name of Caesar and the law I command you to leave this house
unharmed.”
The Roman’s warning was evidently quite in earnest, and the false Eros
looked as if at this moment it would be ill-advised to try jesting with
him. But in the universal uproar only a few had heard his words, and
the hot-blooded tailor was so rash as to lay his hand on the praetor’s
girdle in order to drag him away from the door with the help of his
comrades. But he paid dearly for his temerity for the praetor’s
fist fell so heavily on his forehead that he dropped as if struck by
lightning. One of the Britons knocked down the sausage-maker and a
hideous hand to hand fight would have been the upshot if help had not
come to the hardly-beset Romans from two quarters at once. The veterans
supported by a number of lictors were the first to appear, and soon
after them came Benjamin, the Jew’s eldest son, who was passing down the
great thoroughfare with his boon-companions and saw the danger that was
threatening his father’s house.
The soldiers parted the throng as the wind chases the clouds, and the
young Israelite pressed forward with his heavy thyrsus fought and pushed
his way so valiantly and resolutely through the panic-stricken mob, that
he reached the door of his father’s house but a few moments later than
the soldiers. The lictors battered at the door and as no one opened it,
they forced it with the help of the soldiers in order to set a guard in
the beleaguered house, and protect it against the raging mob.
Verus and the officer entered the Jew’s dwelling with the armed men, and
behind them came Benjamin and his friends--young Greeks with whom he
was in the habit of consorting daily, in the bath or the gymnasium.
Apollodorus and his guests expressed their gratitude to Verus, and when
the old Jewish house-keeper, who had seen and heard from a hiding-place
under the roof all that had taken place outside her master’s house, came
into the men’s hall and gave a full report of the uproar from beginning
to end, the praetor was overwhelmed with thanks; and the old woman
embroidered her narrative with the most glowing colors. While this
was going on Apollodorus’ pretty daughter, Ismene, came in, and after
falling on her father’s neck and weeping with agitation the house keeper
took her hand and led her to Verus, saying:
“This noble lord--may the blessing of the Most High be on him--staked
his life to save us. This beautiful robe he let be rent for our sakes,
and every daughter of Israel should fervently kiss this torn chiton,
which in the eyes of God is more precious than the richest robe--as I
do.”
And the old woman pressed the praetor’s dress to her lips, and tried to
make Ismene do the same; but the praetor would not permit this.
“How can I allow my garment,” he exclaimed, laughing, “to enjoy a favor
of which I should deem myself worthy--to be touched by such lips.”
“Kiss him, kiss him!” cried the old woman, and the praetor took the head
of the blushing girl in his hands, and pressing his lips to her forehead
with a by no means paternal air, he said gaily:
“Now I am richly rewarded for all I have been so happy as to do for you,
Apollodorus.”
“And we,” exclaimed Gamaliel. “We--myself and my brother’s first-born
son-leave it in the hands of God Most High to reward you for what you
have done for us.”
“Who are you?” asked Verus, who was filled with admiration for the
prophet-like aspect of the venerable old man and the pale intellectual
head of his nephew.
Apollodorus took upon himself to explain to him how far the Rabbi
transcended all his fellow Hebrews in knowledge of the law and the
interpretation of the Kabbala, the oral and mystical traditions of
their people, and how that Simeon Ben Jochai was superior to all the
astrologers of his time. He spoke of the young man’s much admired work
on the subject called Sohar, nor did he omit to mention that Gamaliel’s
nephew was able to foretell the positions of the stars even on future
nights.
Verus listened to Apollodorus with increasing attention, and fixed a
keen gaze on the young man, who interrupted his host’s eager encomium
with many modest deprecations. The praetor had recollected the near
approach of his birthday, and also that the position of stars in the
night preceding it, would certainly be observed by Hadrian. What the
Emperor might learn from them would seal his fate for life. Was that
momentous night destined to bring him nearer to the highest goal of his
ambition or to debar him from it?
When Apollodorus ceased speaking, Verus offered Simeon Ben Jochai his
hand, saying:
“I am rejoiced to have met a man of your learning and distinction. What
would I not give to possess your knowledge for a few hours!”
“My knowledge is yours,” replied the astrologer. “Command my services,
my labors, my time--ask me as many questions as you will. We are so
deeply indebted to you--”
“You have no reason to regard me as your creditor,” interrupted the
praetor, “you do not even owe me thanks. I only made your acquaintance
after I had rescued you, and I opposed the mob, not for the sake of any
particular man, but for that of law and order.”
“You were benevolent enough to protect us,” cried Ben Jochai, “so do not
be so stern as to disdain our gratitude.”
“It does me honor, my learned friend; by all the gods it does me honor,”
replied Verus. “And in fact it is possible, it might very will be--Will
you do me the favor to come with me to that bust of Hipparchus? By the
aid of that science which owes so much to him you may be able to render
me an important service.”
When the two men were standing apart from the others, in front of the
white marble portrait of the great astronomer, Verus asked:
“Do you know by what method Caesar is wont to presage the fates of men
from the stars?”
“Perfectly.”
“From whom?”
“From Aquila, my father’s disciple.”
“Can you calculate what he will learn from the stars in the night
preceding the thirtieth of December, as to the destinies of a man who
was born in that night, and whose horoscope I possess?”
“I can only answer a conditional yes to that question.”
“What should prevent your answering positively?”
“Unforeseen appearances in the heavens.”
“Are such signs common?”
“No, they are rare, on the contrary.”
“But perhaps my fortune is not a common one-and I beg of you to
calculate on Hadrian’s method what the heavens will predict on that
night for the man whose horoscope my slave shall deliver to you early
to-morrow morning.”
“I will do so with pleasure.”
“When can you have finished this work?”
“In four days at latest, perhaps even sooner.”
“Capital! But one thing more. Do you regard me as a man, I mean, as a
true man?”
“If you were not, would you have given me such reason to be grateful to
you?”
“Well then, conceal nothing from me, not even the worst horrors, things
that might poison another man’s life, and crush his spirit. Whatever you
read in the celestial record, small or great, good or evil. I require
you to tell me all.”
“I will conceal nothing, absolutely nothing.”
The praetor offered Ben Jochai his right hand, and warmly pressed the
Jew’s slender, well-shaped fingers. Before he went away he settled with
him how he should inform him when he had finished his labors.
The Alexandrian with his guests and children accompanied the praetor to
the door. Only Ben Jamin was absent; he was sitting with his companions
in his father’s dining-room, and rewarding them for the assistance they
had given him with right good wine. Gamaliel heard them shouting and
singing, and pointing to the room he shrugged his shoulders, saying, as
he turned to his host:
“They are returning thanks to the God of our fathers in the Alexandrian
fashion.”
And peace was broken no more in the Jew’s house but by the firm tramp of
lictors and soldiers who kept watch over it, under arms.
In a side street the praetor met the tailor he had knocked down, the
sausage-maker, and other ringleaders of the attack on the Israelite’s
house. They were being led away prisoners before the night magistrates.
Verus would have set them at liberty with all his heart, but he knew
that the Emperor would enquire next morning what had been done to the
rioters, and so he forbore. At any other time he would certainly have
sent them home unpunished, but just now he was dominated by a wish that
was more dominant than his good nature or his facile impulses.