SOLILOQUY OF GAMALIEL’S DAUGHTER
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her
cunning.”
The tumultuous concourse at Gamaliel’s Lyceum dispersed; and Saulus was
conveyed, under guard, to the Tower of Antonia. Amabel, who had remained
in her seat, catching every note of the disputation with intense interest
until its end, stole quietly through the boisterous throng as it hurried
into the street, and rapidly made her way toward home. The palace of her
father, the Rabban, was situated on Mount Zion, a little to the northeast
of the palace of Herod, and commanded a fine view of the Holy City and its
environs. As she passed into the entrance‐hall, she started directly to
acquaint her father with the scene at the Lyceum, but found herself
stirred by emotions so unusual that she was impelled to pass the portal of
his library, and go quietly to her own apartment. She must have time to
think. The air seemed oppressive; and she hurriedly made her way to the
house‐top, where there was a secluded nook to which she often resorted for
study and meditation. Throwing herself into an easy seat, which was
sheltered by a light canopy, she mechanically looked down upon the gilded
towers, domes, and white roofs which were spread out below.
The sun, which was just sinking, seemed to linger a little upon the summit
of the western mountains, sportively shooting back his rays, and tinting
through and through the fleecy cloud‐forms which hung lightly over the
city, burnishing its bastioned walls and battlements. Just across the
valley of the Cheesemongers, and crowning the summit of Mount Moriah, was
the great Temple, with its endless courts, each marked by long rows of
white marble columns, and proudly lifting itself in the midst of all, the
Holy of Holies, wearing a crown of beaten gold. Here was the head and
heart of Judaism, including its religion, history, law, prophecy, and
patriotism, now, alas! shackled by the heavy hand of Rome, so that even
the simplest daily ritual was only possible by the gracious permission of
the enemy. From the valley immediately to the north the Towers of
Mariamne, Phasælus, and Hippicus lifted their proud heads; while to the
east, beyond the Kedron, the bold steeps of the Mount of Olives, scantily
clothed with fig‐trees and wild olives, were softened and bathed in a
purple haze, the parting gift of the orb of day. Jerusalem, and the
mountains round about her, were suffused with an ambient air of peace and
serenity.
But the soul of Amabel did not reflect the calm of the world outside. She
gave but a passing glance to the familiar surroundings which were wont to
be so attractive, because a new world within, but just discovered,
demanded attention.
As the loving and dutiful daughter of the Rabban, she was loyal to her
religion and people. She had been feared and educated in the light of its
more liberal teachings, and was deeply interested in their promulgation
and dominance. But the broader spiritual liberalism of Victor Serenus
appealed deeply to her. She started to review his earnest arguments, but
was surprised to find that her thoughts constantly glanced from the
oration to the orator. After several attempts at calm reasoning, Amabel
became impatient with herself. Intellectually gifted, she never before had
failed in the efficient command of her faculties. Her interest in religion
had been vital, and her devotion thorough; but all at once they seemed to
have faded in the light of a new vision which proved rudely aggressive.
Again she tried to gather up the eloquent line of reasoning; but anon a
mental image, its noble bearing, graceful gestures, manly form, and most
peculiarly “those eyes” seemed fastened upon her.
“What have I to do with thee?”
Her own question gave her a shock.
“My logic never before hath denied me service. Thou mysterious, stately,
haunting stranger! Why doth thine eyes shine upon me, and thy form possess
my imagination? I bid thee adieu!”
But beyond her control something had taken shape and life, and stood
before her, at the sight of which she was thrilled and spellbound. It was
an Ideal—her Ideal.
“Away, airy phantom! I will be myself!”
But an ideal that fits its place takes possession. It persistently makes
itself at home, and receives, not only deserved recognition, but a
conscious or unconscious welcome.
She tried to step outside of herself and look in, in order to interpret,
if possible, the vision from an impartial standpoint. Its charm was not
lessened.
A mind may be deeply intuitive, and even philosophical, and yet naïve and
artless. With a delightful and childlike simplicity, Amabel was
unconscious of her own loveliness.
She threw aside the light scarf from her head; and her hair, somewhat
disordered by the light breeze, played about the ivory neck which her
light robe partially displayed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her large
dark eyes unwontedly shining and liquid. Again she turned her gaze within.
More truly, the new and mysterious Thing which had possessed her was
there, rather than in the distance. Its correspondence or occasion might
be without, but it was a subjective force which stirred the Hebrew
maiden’s heart. There was a new, unfathomable, and heavenly quickening.
Something had been awakened which no power on earth could turn back to its
native slumbering latency.
The evening drew on, but she was unconscious of the flight of time. A
charming and divine unrest, which she could not dislodge if she would,
filled her soul. O daughter of humanity! who shall interpret thee to
thyself?
She looked out upon the lamps that twinkled over the Holy City, but saw
only the Ideal. The soft evening breeze that fanned her cheek whispered of
it, and even the starry heavens smiled upon her and reflected it back.
* * * * * * * *
The time sped on. Amabel was missed from the evening family repast; and it
was only after some apprehension and search that she was aroused from her
revery, and took her accustomed place in the household. It was taken for
granted that she had been sleeping.
Early on the following morning, Victor Serenus made his way to the palace
of Gamaliel, and sought an audience with the Rabban. This was not
difficult for any member of the assembly; and, besides, Serenus was
influential and favored. He was cordially received, and after being shown
to a seat proceeded to unfold the purpose of his visit.
“Most worthy Rabban, I crave thine indulgence for this liberty, but would
make a request in behalf of a fellow‐student.”
“What would’st thou, Serenus?”
“Perchance thou hast received a report of the tumult which took place
yesterday at the Lyceum.”
“I have been informed of the disorder, and also of the arrest of Saulus.”
“It is this which prompted me to call, and petition for thy clemency and
intervention in his behalf.”
“Was he not the leader of the disturbance, and did he not insult and
attack thee?”
“It was as thou sayest.”
“Doth not, then, his punishment seem fitting?”
“Most excellent master, it is plain that such would be the regular order
of procedure. A centurion was witness to the offence, and gave order for
the arrest. But yet I seek thy intervention for his pardon and release.”
“I do not understand thee, Serenus! Would’st thou have me set at naught
the ends of justice, even when administered by the unrighteous Roman?”
“Pardon, noble teacher, but Saulus is young and vehement. His zeal hath
hidden his wisdom, and I am persuaded that by this hour he may repent. He
is exceeding jealous for the faith of the Chosen People, even though the
spirit be swallowed up by the letter.”
“Is he still thy opponent, or dost thou come to me at his request?”
“Worthy Rabban, as my opponent, I forgive him. He is unaware of my
petition, and I would that he be not informed of the same.”
“Serenus, thou art a noble student, goodly in spirit and conduct, even
though thou seemest to have but light regard for our traditions. I commend
thee for thy good‐will toward thy fellow‐disciple, and will freely grant
thy request. I am persuaded that I can compass his release without formal
trial, for his transgression is of slight moment to the Romans. It was but
an excess of youthful zeal.”
Serenus was about to take his leave, when Amabel hastily entered the
library to make some slight request of her father. It was too late to
retreat, and in the twinkling of an eye she unexpectedly found herself
face to face with her own heroic mystery of the previous evening. The
Rabban had a kind heart, and without hesitation presented his gifted pupil
to his daughter.
Serenus made a graceful salutation, and at once recognized the radiant
eyes which had so disconcerted him at the Lyceum. He was about to quietly
withdraw, feeling that the forced introduction gave no warrant for
conversation, when Amabel broke the silence.
“I was present at the debate yesterday, and much interested in thine
argument.”
“Ah! I recall thy face as one that I noticed in the gallery of the women,
but was unaware that it was the daughter of the Rabban who thus honored
me.”
“Both thy reasoning and calm self‐command were much to thy favor,” she
softly replied; and then the thought of her boldness disconcerted her, and
brought a sudden flush of rich color to her cheeks.
A thought flashed upon Serenus, “How beautiful!” but the conversation was
not further continued.
But immediately regaining his composure, he graciously thanked the Rabban
and his daughter, and took his leave. But those large liquid eyes haunted
him. They seemed to be the outlet for a beautiful soul which spoke through
them.
Gamaliel repaired to the Tower of Antonia; and as no charge of violation
of Roman law had been entered against Saulus, the Rabban’s plea that the
offence was but a youthful misdemeanor was sufficient, and the young Jew
was set free. He was only made aware that he received his liberty through
the influence of Gamaliel, and at once inferred from this intercession
that the master was willing to forgive, or perchance approve, his over‐
zealous conduct on account of his unwavering faithfulness to doctrine.
After a light reprimand, he passed out from beneath the frowning
battlements of the Tower, and returned to his lodging in the Sheepmarket.
A warm greeting was given by the innkeeper and his family. They were
surprised to behold him at liberty; and Cassia was unwontedly joyful, but
her swollen eyes gave evidence of recent weeping.
The family of Almon were Pharisees of the strictest sect; and the inn was
the resort of a faction, composed of certain members of the assembly, of
whom Saulus was the acknowledged leader and champion.
“My young friend,” said Almon, warmly saluting him, “how didst thou so
soon loosen the iron grip of the Roman?”
“Verily, mine host Almon, the Rabban takes care of his own. Even the
Gentile tyrant holdeth him in respect. I am persuaded that his immediate
intercession may be a sign that the heresy of that apostate, Serenus, is
to be overthrown.”
“Were the keepers at the Tower kind to thee during thy captivity?”
inquired Cassia, with deep interest.
“Fair Cassia, I suffered no harm at their hands.”
“Surely, thou art wearied, and must needs have rest and nourishment
speedily.”
“My rest and refreshment will be to bring to naught the betrayers of the
faith of Israel, whether of the Jews or Gentiles!”
The maiden kept her fan in rapid motion, and nodded her satisfaction.
“Cæsar hath his foot on our necks,” continued Saulus; “but the time
draweth nigh when it will slip, and we shall arise. We are the seed of
Abraham; and though every Roman were a Cæsar, we shall throw off our yoke.
The keepers of covenants will inherit their promised rewards, and the
pulse of every Hebrew throbs at the coming deliverance. By the light of
Judean prophecy, I have a vision of the proud Roman as trodden dust.”
“May the rising and setting of the sun be hastened,” said Almon, “when the
Circumcision shall inherit the earth! But, O Lord of our fathers! how
long? The tramp of Roman legions shakes the land until it trembles like a
threshing‐floor beaten with flails! The breast of the Holy City is bruised
with hammers until her blood flows, and she is covered with wounds! Our
holy places are contemned, the oil of our anointing is wasted, and our
burnt offerings are defiled!”
“It is even so, O Almon; but Jehovah will spoil the power of Rome, and the
sophistry of the Greek will be an abomination. The horns of the Altar will
be exalted, and the Gentile bow to the wisdom of the Jew. But the heathen
never knew the God of Israel, and therefore cannot forget him. Cursed, and
thrice cursed be those who have learned the law and the prophets, and then
turn and make light of them. Cæsar’s hordes, in their ignorance, pay
homage to their vile divinities; but the reprobate Serenus and his
followers befoul our traditions, and abundantly deserve a resting‐place in
the valley of Gehenna. But for the heavy hand of Tiberius, the
Circumcision might now purify itself, and cast out its own dregs.”
At the first pause, the little Cassia again put in a plea.
“O my father! Saulus must be faint and weary. The food which I have
bespoken awaiteth him.”
The hour was not yet come for the common midday repast; so Saulus followed
her to the inner court, and Cassia with her own hands brought a wooden
platter upon which were some thin cakes, with honey, figs, and olives, and
a small silver amphora of wine. She watched him with satisfaction while he
partook of the frugal repast.
“We have missed thee, Saulus. We wot not but something terrible had
befallen thee.”
Her face was childlike and tender, and she seemed filled with gladness at
his deliverance.
“Little one, thou art kind to think of me.”
There was a quickening in his heart‐beat, and he drew a long breath as he
gazed upon her happy smile and dimpled cheeks. Her slight form was lithe
and shapely; her large eyes, arched by drooping lids, downcast, and the
full ripe lips, carelessly parted, seemed like those of a child. But in
the soft air of Judea, and under the genial warmth of an Oriental sun,
children, like plants, blossom early.
“Saulus, thou art brave! No other man so valiantly defendeth the religion
of our fathers. Would that I had been at the Lyceum to witness thy valor;
for of all young Hebrews, thou art the most gifted.”
“Thou dost honor me too much, little daughter of the house of Almon! But
thou art a graceful flower in the garden of Israel.”
He looked into her sweet, innocent face, and reverently took her hand, and
pressed it to his lips; then quickly turning, went out, and again passed
near the frowning Tower, upon which he cast a momentary scowl, as he made
his way up to the assembly on Mount Moriah.
On the evening of the same day, there was to be a meeting of the society
of the _Urim_.(4) This was a secret Pharisaic organization composed of
certain pupils of Gamaliel. Some were regular lodgers at the inn, but the
larger part were dwellers in other houses. Saulus had been chosen chief
officer, and its members were his zealous partisans. Their place of
meeting was in an upper hall in which about threescore persons could
comfortably convene. Though in an adjoining building, it could only be
entered from the inn of Almon. To reach it, it was necessary to ascend to
the roof, and pass through a long covered passage‐way, thence through a
small vestibule or anteroom.
The society designed to give Saulus a warm and befitting reception, in
acknowledgment of his valor shown upon the day before, and to becomingly
celebrate the release of their leader from the hated Tower.
The evening arrived, and the gathering was of unwonted interest, and the
ardor uncurbed. As they passed in, the members identified themselves, one
by one, by a certain symbolic phrase and gesture, given to the doorkeeper;
and soon the room was well filled. When all had assembled, the doors were
barred so that there could be no intrusion from without.