AN EVENING EXCURSION ON THE CYDNUS
The residence of Benoni was situated upon the more elevated plateau which
embraced the northwestern portion of the Cilician metropolis. A little
distance to the north was the Orontes Gate, through which a thoroughfare,
paved with much‐worn gray and white flags, led out to the fertile regions
in the broad plain above. Through this portal surged a continuous stream
of life, alternating in direction during the different hours of the day
like the tides in an inlet from the sea. Here were donkeys, with panniers
bursting with fruits, lentils, onions, and beans, and awkward camels, raw‐
boned, rough, and gray, with great saddles hung over their backs, the
capacious folds of which contained seemingly endless resources of baskets,
boxes, and miscellaneous merchandise. Horses, roughly harnessed to light
wagons which were heaped with dates, figs, grapes, and pomegranates, and
at intervals small flocks of sheep, calves, and other animals for the
food‐supply of a great city, added to the picturesque conglomerate of life
and bustle. Here entered blatant sellers of ducks, doves, and pigeons,
mingling their shrill cries with the general din and confusion. The
massive arched gateway formed the framework for a shifting panorama of
races, tribes, costumes, and dialects. Interspersed in the throng were red
and blue cloaks more or less dingy, white turbans, faded tunics, long
beards, and bare legs. Oriental display and decoration were seen in golden
ornaments, including necklaces, bracelets, and pendants, all lending a
gleam and sparkle to the motley streams of humanity. Here and there were
women of the common classes, wearing loosely gathered long frocks, and
upon their heads veils or wimples ample enough to fall in graceful folds
about the shoulders. Some were leading brown‐bodied and half‐naked
children, with hair and features indexing the blood of Greek, Jew,
Cilician, or barbarian in picturesque contrast.
Three broad streets converged at the Orontes Gate; and these were lined
with small shops containing merchandise, fruits, skins filled with wines
and other strong drinks, jewelry, garments, articles for personal
adornment, unguents for anointing, besides amulets, charms, and images in
endless variety and abundance.
The dwelling of Benoni, though not far away, was shut off from the noise
and confusion by a high street‐wall in the rear, while in front the
sloping grounds extended directly to the wide, silvery Cydnus. There were
three broad terraces, with here and there clusters of acacias, almonds,
spice‐trees, roses, oleander, and jasmine between the winding paths. At
intervals there were rustic seats sheltered by bowers of flowering plants
and shrubs.
The house was two stories in height, substantial but not pretentious, and
built around a quadrangular court. While not ornate, it was attractive and
well proportioned. The flat roof was surrounded by a low parapet, and was
furnished with a few wicker seats covered with simple canopies. During the
mild seasons the family spent much time upon the roof, especially in the
early morning and evening hours.
The simple carvings and embellishments of the house were Hebraic in
design, and many of the utensils were deeply suggestive of ancient
symbolism and ritual. Extending around the interior court was a cornice
carved in low relief, with designs depicting scenes from the lives of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the receiving of the Law by Moses, the
tabernacle, the ark of the covenant, and representations of the Temple at
Jerusalem, its courts, and the seven golden candlesticks. In the atrium,
or principal apartment, stood an ancient cabinet, in which was preserved
with great care, in many wrappings, a scroll of parchment, upon which was
inscribed a record of the direct genealogical line of descent from
Abraham, through the tribe of Benjamin, down to Benoni. The very
atmosphere of this house of “a Hebrew of the Hebrews” was almost redolent
with the odor of incense, and its flavor was that of instituted feasts and
festivals.
Tarsus, though advanced in sophistical logic and philosophy, was in its
leading characteristics morally depraved. The seat of celebrated schools
of letters, it was, at the same time, the home of Eastern cults, whose mad
sensuality and weird superstition made up a pagan corruption rarely
equalled. A part of its idolatry consisted of the very types and ideals of
luxurious effeminacy, gluttony, and sensuality. The iridescent film of
intellectual culture, which was drawn over the mass of moral degradation,
gave it a charm and external refinement which was more seductive than
naked barbarism. One of the chief festivals included the worship, with
elaborate rites, of statues of Sardanapalus and Semiramis, upon the base
or pedestal of which was engraved,—
“EAT, DRINK, ENJOY THYSELF; THE REST IS NOTHING.”
To the Jews of the Dispersion who dwelt in Tarsus, the spectacles of
heathenism inspired in general a sense of disgust. The very bigotry with
which their economy had become incrusted formed a kind of protection
against which a more plastic and characterless religion would have
measurably yielded. Under the intense glare of the law such a paganism
appeared in all its abnormal deformity. The Jew was no sophist or
sentimentalist; and the Tarsian iniquity and abandon, far from being
attractive, strongly confirmed him in his own traditions.
The prejudices of Phariseeism surrounded the very cradle of the son of
Benoni. Intolerance, fanaticism, national pride, and exclusiveness built
themselves deeply into the organism of his childish nature. At the age of
five he had learned many passages from the sacred rolls of parchment, and
at six he could recite the “Shema” and “Hallel.” At seven he was taken to
his “vineyard,” or school, which was attached to the synagogue; and at ten
he commenced the simpler doctrines of the oral law which were collected in
the “Mishna.”
Abdiel, the priest, often came to visit the family, and was zealous
touching the training of Saulus in ritual and tradition. But though the
vision of the triumph of “the uncircumcised” had never been repeated,
intervening years had not entirely destroyed its portentous impression,
even though he had feigned to forget it. Thirteen years had passed, and
the son of Benoni had been confirmed as a “Son of the Commandment.” He was
now prepared to go up to Jerusalem for the acquirement of a deeper
learning in one of the great schools of the prophets where he might become
a Rabbi.
Benoni also had two daughters, the elder of whom had married long before,
and removed from Tarsus. Rebecca, the younger, was three years older than
Saulus, and was known among the Greeks of the neighborhood as “the
beautiful Jewess.” No brother and sister could be more devotedly attached
to each other; and their interests, studies, and recreations were shared
in common. They were quite unlike in nature and disposition; but, as is
often the case, this seemed to strengthen their bond of affection. Each
supplied what was lacking in the other. He was intense, impetuous, and
unyielding, while she was placid and rarely ruffled even under great
provocation. Though of recognized Jewish type in feature and form, she was
faultless even from the artistic standpoint of the Greek. The artlessness
and innocence which from a pure soul also shone out through her
personality lent an additional charm. She usually appeared with her jet‐
black hair gathered in two ample braids falling gracefully behind, and
interspersed near the ends with golden threads, terminating in a small
ornament with pendants. A silken cap of light fabric and delicate shading
rested lightly upon her head, and around her neck was a network of
delicate chains intermingled with precious stones. The folds of her white
loose‐fitting robe were gathered by a braided scarlet girdle, ornamented
with delicate pendants of pearl; and her neck and arms were but lightly
covered by a gauze scarf, upon which was a scattered embroidery of golden
thread. Every detail of personality and costume indicated a refinement
which was genuine and graceful.
At the close of one sultry August day, the family were seated in their
usual cosey corner upon the house‐top, as was their wont in warm weather.
The fierce Cilician sun was just sinking behind the great brown Taurus
mountains in the western horizon. The furnace‐like air of the great
shimmering plain to the north and west, which had been wavy with heat, was
reluctantly yielding to a more endurable temperature, and the lengthening
shadows gradually softened the glare of the broad landscape which
stretched away beyond the city to the great mountain wall in the distant
haze. The silvery current of the Cydnus, with its foliage‐lined banks,
could be followed by the eye, winding its zigzag way, and narrowing in the
dim distance almost to a thread when traced toward its native mountain
hiding‐place. The purple light, which lingered about the summits of the
far‐away range, had a weird and foreboding look; and the great chasm in
the Taurus, into which the orb of day had plunged, glowed with an unwonted
and sullen obstinacy as it slowly yielded to the darkening shadows. A few
heavy clouds which hung over the highest peaks were lined with a crimson
glory, which, while gorgeous, seemed restless and fateful.
If Nature was in a serious and contemplative mood, the family of Benoni
was not less absorbed in revery. Silence long prevailed. All were gazing,
not so much at the white roofs and gilded domes beyond the Cydnus, toward
which they faced, nor upon the garden in the immediate foreground, as into
the vista of the future. Eyes were looking out, but thoughts were turned
within.
What of the morrow? What of the far‐reaching consequences of the movement
just to begin? Kaleidoscopic visions of coming days flitted through their
minds. Stillness prevailed over the city. The very atmosphere was
stagnant. The household of Benoni seemed to have a prophetic foregleam of
great events, but their character and detail were hidden in the
impenetrable mists of the future.
Saulus was seated beside his mother, with her arm encircling him, and her
hand gently stroking his cheek. To‐morrow they were to part. Rebecca was
the first to break the silence. She drew herself to the other side of her
brother, and taking his hand in her own, gave him a warm kiss upon his
cheek.
“Brother, dear! How can we give thee up? Our hearts fail us when we think
of thy journey which begins with to‐morrow’s sun.”
“But the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob will be with thee, my son,” said
the mother. “And thou wilt see the great Rabban Gamaliel,(2) and be taught
of him. Thou wilt bring honor upon the house of Benoni, O my Saulus!”
She folded him in closer embrace, and stroking back his curly locks,
pressed repeated kisses upon his forehead.
“O my mother! no one will ever love me as thou dost. My life hath been
thine, but I must now give it to the God of Israel—to the Chosen People. I
will grow to be a leader, and help to gather them from their dispersion. I
will bring to naught the counsel of the Gentiles. Thou art yielding me to
the service of our people, and in due time I will render a worthy account
of my doings. O my mother! I will learn wisdom of the great Rabban, and be
a true son of the covenant.”
The father aroused himself from his revery and drew nearer.
“Son, thou hast my blessing. Thy words proclaim thy zeal for the Law. Thou
wilt surely prevail! Hast thou everything prepared for the journey? The
ship will set sail to‐morrow at the third hour.”
“My good mother hath helped me to make all things ready.”
Benoni was to go up to the Holy City with his son.
“Would there were a ship for Cæsarea that knows the God of Israel!” said
the father.
“In what ship _do_ we set sail?”
“My son, it is a Phœnician vessel, which is dedicated to the gods of Tyre,
and it carries the sign of Castor and Pollux.”
The mother raised her head inquiringly. “Is there not peril from pirates?”
“Nay; the Romans have cleared the seas of them.”
Again a long pause, and even the impulsive Saulus was sad and thoughtful.
Noticing that his mother had buried her face in her hands, he gently drew
them aside and gave her another kiss.
“O my mother! dry thy tears. The days will pass speedily when I may return
from the Holy City. My love for thee shall never wane.”
The shades of evening had gathered, and anon the clear full moon appeared
above the horizon, flooding the broad expanse of white roofs with a pale,
misty light. The Cydnus hurried quietly past, gleaming like a stream of
molten silver. By a general impulse the little group awakened from their
quietude.
Saulus turned toward his sister.
“The river is serene. Get thy lute, and let us take the shallop, that I
may feel the oars once more before my departure.”
Hand in hand the two darted down the stone stairway, and after a hasty
change of outer costume, made their way down one of the well‐worn paths to
the river’s bank. Unlocking the little boat‐house, Saulus pushed the light
shallop to the landing, and the two stepped in for an excursion. The young
Israelite grasped the oars with his usual alacrity; and the scions of the
house of Benoni glided out upon the stream and quickly disappeared, making
their way against the broad current of the Cydnus.