ANTIOCHUS.
The greater part of the population of Joppa, which, like most seaside
towns, was somewhat cosmopolitan in its habits and ways of thinking, had
hurried down to the shore to watch the arrival of the great Syrian King.
And, indeed, his fleet was a sight worth seeing. Thirty ships, all of them
with three banks of oars, were formed in a semicircle, the arc of which
was parallel with the line of the shore. They were war-vessels, the finest
and swiftest that the Syrian fleet possessed, manned with picked crews,
and now gay with all the sumptuous adornments that befitted a peaceful
errand. The day was perfectly windless, and the sea as calm as a lake.
This circumstance made it possible for the squadron to preserve the order
of its advance with an exactitude which would not have been possible had
it been moving under sail. On the prow of each vessel stood a
flute-player, and the rowers dipped their oars in time to his music. Each
player had his eyes fixed on a conductor who was posted on the royal
vessel, a five-banked ship, which occupied a position slightly in advance
of the semicircle. Time was thus kept throughout the squadron—a result,
however, not obtained, as may easily be imagined, without a vast amount of
practice. The sight of the thousands of oars, as they were dipped and
lifted again in rhythmical regularity, with the sunshine flashing upon
them, was beautiful in the extreme. As for the ship that carried King
Antiochus, it was a gorgeous spectacle. The ropes were of gaily-coloured
silk; the hull was brilliant with gold. The figure-head was the head and
bust of a sea-nymph, exquisitely wrought in silver. The poop was covered
with a crimson awning.
As the squadron approached the harbour, a convenience which the Joppa of
to-day no longer possesses, the royal ship fell back, allowing the leading
vessels on either side of the semicircle to precede it to the pier. From
these a company of troops, splendidly arrayed in gilded armour,
disembarked, and formed two lines, between which the King was to walk.
The Syrian King was a young man of about two-and-twenty years, tall, and
well made, and not without a certain dignity of presence. His face, too,
at first sight would have been pronounced handsome. It was of the true
Greek type: the forehead and nose forming an almost uninterrupted straight
line. This line, however, receded too much, giving something of an
expression of weakness. But for this the features of the young Syrian king
might have been described as bearing a singular resemblance to those of
the great Alexander. Youthful as he was, his complexion, naturally of a
beautiful delicacy, was already flushed with excess. But the most sinister
characteristic of his face was to be found in the restless look of his
prominent eyes. The descendants of the brilliant soldier, the ablest and
most upright of the generals of Alexander, who had founded the Syrian
kingdom, had sadly degenerated under the corrupting influences of power.
The hideous example of lust and cruelty had been set and improved upon by
generation after generation, till the fatal taint of madness, always the
avenger of such wickedness, had been developed in the race.(3)
The Council of Joppa had sent a deputation of their body, headed by their
president, Josedech, to receive the visitor with such respect as might
lawfully be shown to a heathen. Greeting and compliments could be
exchanged without any loss of ceremonial purity. Nor would there be any
harm in presenting a gift. To sit down to meat with an unbeliever, was, of
course, out of the question; but this difficulty had been overcome by the
complaisance of a wealthy Greek merchant, who, for sufficient reasons of
his own, had offered to entertain the visitor.
The councillors saluted the King, not with the extravagant form of “Live
for ever!” but with the more moderate form of “Peace be with you.”
Antiochus answered with a careless greeting. At the same time he turned to
one of his courtiers, and said in a whisper which was heard, as it was
meant to be heard, by others besides the persons addressed, “Look! what a
set of he-goats. And faugh! how they smell!” The young King, who was
exceedingly vain of his good looks, had the fancy of making himself up as
the beardless Apollo, and, of course, the court followed the fashion that
he set. The insulting words did not fail to reach the ears of the elders,
but they affected not to have heard them. The president then proceeded to
deliver his address of welcome. It was sufficiently civil, but, as may be
supposed, not enthusiastic. The speaker hoped that friendly relations
might continue to exist between the Jewish people and the kingdom of
Syria. He was glad to receive on Jewish soil a powerful monarch who, he
trusted, would be favourably impressed with what he should see and hear.
If his subjects had any grievances they would find prompt redress; the
King would doubtless do the same for Jewish merchants who considered
themselves aggrieved.
To this address, which, after the manner of such documents, was somewhat
verbose and lengthy, Antiochus listened with ill-concealed impatience;
perhaps it would be more correct to say, with impatience that was not
concealed at all. He fidgeted about; he interjected disparaging remarks
that must have been distinctly heard a long way off. He even corrected the
speaker when he made a slip in Greek idiom. Still the elders preserved an
imperturbable calm, though a keen observer might have seen the flush
rising upon their faces.
The address of welcome ended, it only remained to offer the customary
present. An attendant stepped forward carrying a robe of honour, a piece
of native manufacture, which, without being particularly splendid, was
sufficiently handsome and valuable to be adequate to the occasion. But it
did not please the young King, who, indeed, was scarcely in the humour to
be pleased with anything. One of his followers received it from the hands
of the attendant, and Antiochus, according to the usual etiquette, should
have touched it, saying at the same time a few words of politeness. What
he did was to take it from the hands of the courtier who had received it,
shake it out, and hold it from him at arm’s length, eyeing it, at the same
time, with an expression of undisguised contempt. Even this was not all.
Turning his back upon the elders he dropped the robe on the head of one of
his attendants, and, by a sudden movement, twisted it round his neck,
bursting out at the same time into a loud horse-laugh. The laugh was, of
course, dutifully echoed by his courtiers; but to the Joppa crowd it
seemed no laughing matter. An angry murmur ran through it. The front ranks
made a menacing movement forwards, while stones began to fly from behind.
On the other hand, the soldiers of the King’s body-guard drew their
swords, and began to form up behind him. They were not properly prepared,
however, for a conflict; for, as they had come only on a service of
ceremony, they had nothing with them but their swords and light ornamental
breastplates.
Everything wore a most threatening look, when there occurred an
interruption that was probably welcome to every one, except, it may be,
the hotheaded and reckless young sovereign himself. The deputation from
Jerusalem had arrived. The high priest, anticipating, as we have seen,
some trouble, had despatched them at the very earliest opportunity, and
had urged them to make the best of their way to their destination. At the
same time, that their presence might have something more than moral
weight, he had sent a squadron of cavalry. The deputation, with their
escort following close behind, now made their way through the crowd.
The high priest was represented by his kinsman Phinehas—who had found a
substitute for his unfashionable name in Phineus—by Menander, who has been
already mentioned, and by two Greeks, of whom our acquaintance Cleon was
one. Josedech and his companions willingly left the management of affairs
in the hands of the new arrivals, and retired from the scene. Leaping from
his horse, Phinehas, or Phineus, prostrated himself in Eastern fashion at
the feet of Antiochus, and his companions followed his example, while the
escort of cavalry saluted. “Rise,” said Antiochus, whose good humour began
to return when he found himself treated with what he conceived to be
proper respect. He even condescended to reach out his royal hand, and
assist the envoy to recover his feet. Phineus proceeded to deliver an
address of welcome which was certainly not wanting in florid compliment.
It might even have been called profane, for Antiochus was described not
only as magnificent, illustrious, victorious (to mention a few only of the
speaker’s exuberant supply of epithets), but even as divine. The speech
ended, an attendant presented a richly-chased casket of gold, filled with
coins, fresh from the Syrian mint, and bearing the features and
superscription of Antiochus himself. The King received it with something
like _empressement_, and after speaking a few words of thanks, passed it
to his treasurer. At the same time he took a bag of silver from one of his
attendants, and condescended to scatter some of the pieces among the crowd
that lined the quays, with his royal hands. As may be supposed, a vigorous
scramble ensued, and not a few of the spectators were tumbled over the
edge into the shallow water below. Others jumped in of their own accord
after some of the pieces which had fallen short. A general burst of
laughter was the result, and the situation lost the gravity which had been
so alarming a few minutes before.
The King now recognized an old acquaintance in Cleon. Antiochus, handed
over in his childhood as a hostage by his father, had spent his boyhood
and youth in Rome. The somewhat austere manners of that city had not
pleased him, and he was glad to find in the young Greek an acquaintance
more congenial than the young Marcelli, sons of the priest of that name,
under whose charge he had been put. Cleon had come to Rome to seek his
fortune, and had found employment in assisting the comic poet Cæcilius in
making his translations from the Greek. Poets, however, were not so well
paid as to be able to spare much for their assistants, and Cleon had been
very glad to act as the young prince’s teacher, a post which his guardian
the priest had found it very difficult to fill. Tutor and pupil had been
on the most friendly terms. The elder man was indulgent, exacted no more
than the youth was willing to learn, and, possibly thinking that all the
necessary austerity was supplied by the Roman guardian, winked at various
indulgences which would not have approved themselves to his employer.
Antiochus retained a grateful recollection of the complaisant youth who
had made things so agreeable for him in the days of his captivity.
“Hail, Cleon, most delightful of teachers, behold the most thankful of
pupils!”
And he embraced the Greek, kissing him on both cheeks.
“So you, too,” he went on, “have escaped from that dismal prison-house
across the sea! Was there ever a place, think you, more unfit for a
gentleman to live in? And how have you fared since I saw you? I hope that
Fortune has had something pleasant in store for you.”
“She could have done nothing better, Sire, than to thus give me the
pleasure of seeing you.”
“Oh, what a compliment! I see that your tongue has not lost its dexterous
twist. But I suppose I must attend to this stupid business here. Why can’t
they let one come quietly, and see what people really are. I dare say
there are some good fellows here as elsewhere; but all these ceremonies
and speech-making and fine clothes tire me to death. Well, we shall find a
chance of having some talk together before long. Anyhow, you will come and
see me at Antioch. I will make you court-poet, or general-in-chief, or
high priest of Aphrodite! I know that you can do anything that you choose
to turn your hand to.”
While this conversation was going on the Greek merchant who had
volunteered to entertain the royal visitor was waiting to be introduced.
This ceremony performed by Phineus, he proceeded to give his invitation.
“Will your Highness be pleased to accept such humble hospitality as I can
offer? My house and all that is within it are at your service.”
“Pleased! of course I shall be pleased,” returned the King, in boisterous
good humour. “I know what your ‘humble hospitality’ means. It is you
merchants that can afford to do things handsomely. You make the money, and
we can only spend it. What with armies and fleets and legions of servants,
who eat us up like so many locusts, we never have a drachma that we can
call our own. As for me, I am easily satisfied. Give me a mullet, a piece
of roast kid, a flask of good wine, and a pretty girl to hand the cup, and
I want no more. Lead on.”
The procession moved on to the merchant’s house. This reached, the King,
who declared that he wanted his midday sleep, was at once shown to his
apartments.
It was some six hours later when the banquet, for which the host had made
magnificent preparations, was ready. The company was assembled, and was
fairly numerous, though it did not contain the true _élite_ of Joppa
society. With one or two not very respectable exceptions, the
representatives of the high-class Jewish families were absent. But there
were plenty of strangers in the town, and the room was sufficiently full.
The trading community was present in force: Greeks, Syrians, Egyptians,
Carthaginians, and even a Greek-speaking Gaul from Marseilles, were
present. Rome was represented by two Roman knights, who were doing a
profitable business in money-lending, and who had the name of pretty
nearly every noble in Syria on their books.
But the guest of the evening was absent. The company waited with the
patience with which royal personages are waited for on such occasions. At
last, when an hour had gone beyond the time fixed for the entertainment,
the host ventured to send up to the King’s apartment, with a humble
reminder that the banquet was ready. But the apartment was empty!
“What can have become of him?” was the thought in every one’s mind, not
unaccompanied by a certain anxiety in the older courtiers, who had
observed with dismay the reckless proceedings of their master.
At last a thought struck Cleon. He took the chief of the King’s attendants
aside and communicated to him his suspicions. “I saw something of his
Highness’s ways at Rome,” he said, “and I can guess what has happened. He
always had a fancy for disguises, for dressing himself up as a sailor or
an artizan, and going to some very curious places in the city. Often and
often have I been with him—to keep him out of mischief, you know—and, by
the gods! it was well I did. I remember his being very nearly stabbed one
night in a low wine-shop in the Suburra.(4) And now I remember that this
morning his Highness said something about wanting to see what the people
really were, without all this ceremony. Let us question the porter whether
he has seen any one go out.”
The porter was questioned accordingly. At first he could give no
information. At last he remembered observing two young men in sailor’s
dress passing the gate about three hours before. He had taken no heed of
them. Sailors had been coming and going all day, with various articles
which they were bringing up from the ship, and he had supposed that these
were two of the number. Here the man’s wife struck in with the information
that she had noticed the two sailors, thinking that there was something
odd about their appearance; their clothes were very shabby, but they had a
superior air. Neither the man nor his wife knew anything more; but they
thought that the two had turned in the direction of the harbour after
leaving the house.
Under these circumstances search seemed hopeless, and might, indeed, do
more harm than good. Perhaps the safest plan would be to let the young man
find his way back for himself. After some discussion, however, it was
resolved that Cleon, after first changing the dress which he had donned
for the banquet for something less conspicuous, should look in at some of
the wine-shops near the harbour, which were suggested as likely places for
the search by the character of the King’s disguise.
Cleon was successful beyond his expectation. His attention was attracted
by the sound of boisterous laughter proceeding from a tavern whose windows
fronted the place where the King had landed. The place was crowded to
overflowing, and even the pavement before the house was thronged with
idlers, who were content to hear what they could of the fun inside without
having any score to pay. With no little difficulty Cleon edged his way
into the principal room. It was a strange scene that met his eye. The room
was crowded with Phœnician and Greek sailors, with here and there the
swarthy face of a Moor among them. The guests sat on benches, closely
packed together, and every one had a huge earthenware cup in his hand and
a pitcher of wine at his feet. At the further end of the room was a small
platform reserved for the performers who were accustomed to entertain the
audience. A couple of dancing-girls had just exhibited a dance of the
boisterous kind which was specially favoured by the seafaring spectators;
and now his Syrian Majesty was doing his best to entertain the company
with the burlesque of a Roman electioneering oration. He spoke in Greek,
or, rather, the mixture of tongues, the _Lingua Franca_ of the time, which
did duty for Greek in the seaport towns of the Eastern Mediterranean; and
he used with considerable effect the broad Roman accent. His speech, could
it be reproduced, would be dull or even unintelligible to us, but his
audience found it highly entertaining. The Greeks, always quick-witted,
caught the points with admirable readiness, and the others laughed, if not
for any other reason, at least for sympathy. The most completely
successful part was where the orator, who affected to be a candidate for
the consulship, propounded a grand scheme, according to which the citizens
of Rome were to live in idleness, supported by the contributions of the
whole world. When the attention of the audience began to flag, the young
Prince, with an audacious presence of mind that would have become a
veteran performer, suddenly changed the entertainment. Sticking a tall cap
on his head, he proceeded to give a ludicrous imitation of the solemn
dance of the priests of Mars. Cleon had seen the original performance in
Rome, and he could not but confess that the slow, awkward movement, and
droning chant which the performer adapted to a popular song of a somewhat
equivocal kind, was a very clever piece of work.
[Illustration: _Antiochus in the Tavern._]
A few minutes afterwards Antiochus retired, breathless with his exertions,
and Cleon made his way after him.
“So you are here,” burst out the King. “Good, was it not?”
“Excellent, my lord,” returned Cleon; “but you must excuse me if I ask you
to come back. The banquet is ready, and the company are waiting for you.”
“Confound the company; there is much better company here. I will stop
where I am.”
Cleon remonstrated and argued; at first, it seemed, with no effect.
Finally, however, by a judicious mixture of flattery and promises, and
specially, by enlarging on the opportunity that there would be of
electrifying the _élite_ of Joppa by a display of eloquence, he induced
the King to come away. Antiochus was eaten up with a vanity that was
almost insane, and he was as proud of his capacity for serious oratory as
he was of his talents as a buffoon.
Unfortunately the eloquence was never displayed. The King had drunk
largely of the heady wine which was a favourite with the nautical
customers of the tavern, and he applied himself with equal diligence to
the more refined vintages which he found on the table of Stratocles, his
entertainer. The company drank his health in bumpers; and, not to be
outdone, a huge capacity for drink being, as he thought, one of his most
honourable distinctions, he pledged them in return by draining a cup of a
royal size. This was a final effort. He spoke a few hesitating sentences,
frequently interrupted by hiccoughs, staggered, and but for the prompt
attention of his attendants, who had indeed observed his condition, would
have fallen to the ground. Nothing remained but to carry him out of the
banqueting hall.
It was late in the afternoon of the following day before he was
sufficiently recovered from the effects of his debauch to start for
Jerusalem. A halt for the night was made about halfway, and late in the
afternoon of the next day the cavalcade approached Jerusalem. Jason came
out to meet his guest. He had done his utmost to bring a reputable company
with him, but his efforts had not been very successful. The respectable
part of the population of the city was conspicuously absent, a mixed
multitude of strangers and half-breeds, brutal in manners and squalid in
appearance, represented the Jewish nation. Fortunately it was dark, and
the torchlight procession with which the King was escorted into the city
did something to conceal by its picturesque effects the general meanness
of the affair. Antiochus, however, did not fail to notice the character of
the gathering, and indeed rallied his host on his ragged and disreputable
followers. But his good humour did not seem to be disturbed. He admired
the decorations of the palace, was loud in praise of Jason’s taste in art,
and indeed admired one statuette so much that his host felt compelled to
offer it for his acceptance, much against his will, for it was supposed to
be an original by Scopas, and to be worth at least five talents. The next
day came a visit to the Temple. The King shrugged his shoulders at what he
was pleased to consider the tastelessness of its architecture, suggested
to his host that he had better pull the whole place down and build it
again in a better style, and offered him the services of his own architect
and a painter who, he said, had a quite unequalled skill for such subjects
as a dance of satyrs and nymphs, and would cover the walls of the new
building with some really elegant designs. But if the architecture of the
Temple did not please him, he expressed a genuine admiration for some of
its contents. There was a greedy light in his eye as he looked at the rich
furniture and gorgeous vessels—and this, though Jason, having certain
views of his own, had the prudence not to show him the chamber which
contained the most massive treasures of the place. But whatever Antiochus
may have thought, he said nothing but what was civil and pleasant. It may
be supposed, however, that a few days of such a guest would be enough, and
it was with unmixed delight that at the end of a week Jason saw him depart
for Phenicé.