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ALEPH, THE CHALDEAN;
Or,
The Messiah as Seen from Alexandria.
by
E. F. BURR, D.D., LL.D.,
Author of “Ecce Cœlum,” “Pater Mundi,” etc.
“_So forth we gat us from our home;_
_So we are here to-day:_
_Now tell us where this King to find,_
_Whose reign shall be alway._”—ANON.
New York:
Wilbur B. Ketcham,
2 Cooper Union.
Copyright, 1891,
By Wilbur B. Ketcham.
PREFACE.
Two facts, at least, should be remembered by the readers of this book.
1. It was not uncommon in the times of the Christ for Hebrew men, in
imitation of Joseph and Moses and Boaz, to marry outside of their own
people.
2. It is a great mistake to suppose that women in the Roman Empire of the
First Century were secluded after the current oriental fashion. They had
about as much freedom on most lines of social intercourse as women have
among us. The New Testament shows this in regard to Palestine and such
contiguous countries as appear in the Acts of the Apostles. But it was
the same wherever the Roman authority and influence extended.
“Tradition was in favor of restriction, but by a concurrence of
circumstances women had been liberated from the enslaving fetters of the
old legal forms, and enjoyed freedom of intercourse in society; they
walked and drove in the public thoroughfares with veils that did not
conceal their faces; they dined in the company of men; they studied
literature and philosophy; they took part in political movements; they
were allowed to defend their own law cases if they liked; and they helped
their husbands in the government of provinces and the writing of books.”
LYME, CONN., U. S. A.
I.
DOWN THE NILE.
Φησὶ δὲ, τοις μὲν ευθὺ γινομένοις μιξαι χρυσὸν.
—ARISTOTLE, _Polit._ ii. 3.
_He says that some have gold in their composition from the
start._
1. Who are they?
2. A son of Misraim.
3. The times of old.
4. A seeming misfortune.
I.
DOWN THE NILE.
From Coptus downward on the dreamy Nile—past innumerable canals with
their primitive water-wheels; past populous villages and lordly villas
embowered in sycamores and palms; past still more lordly ruins, silent
now for many a century; past caravans and pleasure-parties and bodies of
Roman soldiery, foot and horse, coming and going on the thoroughfares
that closely skirt the river on either hand; past water craft of all
sorts, from skin-buoyed rafts carrying sandstone from Chennu to the Delta
up to gay barges carrying travelers to Thebes and the dead Egypt of the
Pharaohs; past crocodiles and hippopotami and pelicans sporting in the
water, or basking along the muddy shore as so many logs or stones.
_Who_ are moving downward on the dreamy Nile to Alexandria—in a large
merchant vessel, whose lateen sail swells gently to the south wind?
A large number of persons with whom we have no special concern. Two
persons with whom we have great concern, and whose appearance is striking
enough to draw much attention from their fellow-travelers, as they stand
together watching the ever-changing scene.
Both wear the classic Greek dress, of plain material. The elder, a man
of some sixty years, is so Greek in feature that no dress is needed to
proclaim his nationality. The other, a young man of perhaps twenty years,
has a face of a different type. And what a face! Is it Egyptian? No.
Is it Roman? No. Is it Hebrew? No. As we take our privilege of drawing
very near, and of looking carefully at those features on all sides, and
even of lifting the abundant brown hair from the broad white forehead
that swells so loftily over the steady and somewhat austere gray eyes,
we would rather say that we are looking on the original type from which
all other racial faces have varied, so readily does it express the
better elements of all. Yes, the young man must be from Britain or the
Caucasus—and yet he certainly is not from Britain; for that is still a
land of savages, and this youth has an air of culture and refinement,
which the plainness of his garb cannot conceal. Is it mere fancy? Have I
really a sixth sense? There is something about the young man that seems
to breathe of lofty plateaus, and mountain summits, and torrents that
dash and roar on their way from the clouds to the sea. What does this
mountaineer here among the lowlands of the Nile?
He is evidently looking at the country for the first time. Everything
seems to interest him much. His companion, as plainly, is by no means
an entire stranger to the scene, and yet shows the degree of interest
natural to one who is revisiting a country after long absence. The Greek
language flows easily between the two; as the elder from time to time
points this way and that, and seems to be recalling and introducing old
acquaintances, as the vessel slowly glides by object after object.
“It is now more than thirty years,” said the Greek, whom we will call
Cimon, “since I left Egypt; but I notice very few changes—here and there
a new quay or villa, or an old palace decorated with new gardens and
trees. I once knew who lived in some of the finer dwellings; for example,
yonder low castellated building that covers so much ground on the eastern
bank. It is very ancient, and the gradual rise of the land from the
annual deposits by the river, long since converted the lower story into
a dungeon. The Roman proprætor lived here a part of the year. It once
belonged to Cleopatra; was given by her to a favorite noble and relative,
from whom the Romans took it, as being heirs to all the Pharaohs.”
The vessel, from some cause, now approached the palace they were
observing, and the two men walked to the right side of the boat for
a closer view. While standing here and noticing various points of a
structure that was now seen to be a fortress as well as a palace, they
became aware of a man standing by their side.
“You seem interested in this place,” he said in a grave but courteous
tone; “can I give you any information about it? I happen to be
particularly well acquainted in this neighborhood.”
They had turned to see a man of majestic stature and mien, far advanced
in life, but still erect as a palm and keen-eyed—as thoroughly Egyptian
in his look and dress as Rameses the Great.
“I see that you are strangers, and _not_ Romans,” he added
apologetically, “and old age likes to speak of the past when it can do
so safely.” And he looked around as if to assure himself that they were
alone.
Cimon politely thanked the Egyptian, and said that he had just been
telling his young friend Aleph that the structure before them was once a
royal residence.
“That is so,” said the old man; “not only a residence of the Ptolemies,
but also of our native kings. You see that the material is stone from
Syene, and that the style of building is old Egyptian. It passed to the
Ptolemies with the crown of the Pharaohs, but was restored to a direct
descendant of the old owners as an act of justice by Cleopatra. For a
generation it continued in his family; but at last the Roman governor
took a liking to the place and took it. The Romans are apt to take what
they like.”
“Not a very uncommon thing for conquerors anywhere to do,” said Cimon.
“Perhaps the site of this very palace was taken without purchase or leave
by the Pharaoh who built it, from a weak subject or from another defeated
Pharaoh.”
“I think not,” decidedly said the Egyptian. “I could show you papyri and
parchments in the Serapeum proving that the property has been in the
possession of the same priestly family to which it now belongs almost
as long as we have been historically a people; and that, you know, is a
great while, and nearly connects us with the time when vacant Misraim was
divided among our fathers.”
“Certainly,” said the young man whom we have heard his companion call
Aleph, “no people between this and the Pillars of Hercules holds its land
by so ancient and original a tenure as does the people of Misraim. The
Egyptian is older than the Roman, older than the Greek; indeed, was wise
and powerful ages before Rome or Greece was born. And, if I mistake not,
there is no tradition, nor other reason for thinking, that your fathers
dispossessed any other people. They must stand as original proprietors.
If immemorial possession, without hint of wrong, does not give a just
title, the world knows of no such title, whether the party be a nation or
an individual.”
“That seems to me well said,” came slowly from the old man, as his eye
rested on the ingenuous face of the youth. “We came to the valley of the
Nile so early that we did not have to inhabit at the expense of any other
nation. We may be said to hold our country directly from the immortal
gods.”
“You say we _came_,” said Cimon. “So, in your opinion, this was not the
original site of the Egyptians. From whence do you suppose them to have
come, and at how early a period? For my part, I have no doubt that you
were here, and were here as a great and accomplished people, long before
the Greeks, or even the Phenicians, had any political existence.”
“Your question would be variously answered among us,” returned the
Egyptian. “Some would claim for our past hundreds of thousands, and even
millions, of years; would say that such a civilization as ours was at the
date of our oldest monuments could not have ripened from that savagery
and even brutality which they fancy to have been the primitive human
condition in anything short of such immense periods. But such is not my
view. I see that you are surprised at this!”
“Not surprised that you reject the brute-origin of mankind,” returned the
Greek; “for that seems to be contrary to the feeling and faith of all
nations; but rather surprised that you do not share what I have supposed
to be the fashionable opinion among Egyptians as to their immense
antiquity, and what would naturally be to you a very pleasant opinion.”
“No opinion is pleasant to me,” replied the old man, slowly shaking
his head, “for which I can see no reasonable foundation. Manetho, our
only extant historian, was an ancestor of mine. I have his original
manuscripts, entire, and am satisfied by the careful study of them and of
the palace registers of Thebes that his earlier dynasties were largely
cotemporaneous. No; from two thousand to three thousand years are enough
to account for our whole history, monuments and all, if we suppose the
nation to have been originally gifted and far advanced in civilization on
their coming into the land.”
“May I ask from whence you suppose them to have come?” inquired Aleph.
“That is a very broad question at its broadest; and the broadest is
what I see in the depths of your eyes. There has been but one tradition
among us on the subject, and it is like the traditions of all these
western peoples. They look toward the sun-rising. Our fathers entered
the land from the north, after journeying from the east. From what part
of the great east, do you say? My answer is that Seti the aged is the
son of the youth who now stands before me. His is the primitive stock.
Caucasian Chaldea is the cradle of the nations. And if you go on to ask
whence that cradle and primitive stock, I have to tell you what primitive
Egypt thought and said—that AMUN RE, the eternal, almighty, and all-wise
Spirit, made the stars and the world, and the first parents of us all.
That your Democritus and Epicurus,” added the Egyptian, looking archly
at Cimon, “should have taught differently! They should have visited us
three thousand years ago and taken lessons. They would have steered their
way more successfully among the snags and breakers of thought. For, the
stream of history is like the Nile—broad with us, and not without its
monsters as well as fertilities, but beginning small and beginning very
high among mysterious mountains. I speak with confidence; for I feel
that, owing to certain circumstances, I stand on higher ground than most
observers do, and can see farther across the centuries. The horizon is
distant, but I can see that there _is_ a horizon, and that it sweeps high
among the clouds.”
* * * * *
At this moment a Roman officer, who had been lying intoxicated behind
some boxes, but was now sufficiently recovered to be miserable and
quarrelsome, came somewhat unsteadily toward them. They were standing
with their backs toward him; and, noticing their plain garbs, he was,
perhaps, encouraged in his thought of mischief. Coming up to the
Egyptian, he struck him a smart blow on the back with the flat of his
sheathed sword which he carried in his hand.
“Ha, old mummy, did you never see a Roman before?” as Seti turned
suddenly toward him. “Improve your opportunity. But you will have an
opportunity to _feel_ a Roman as well as to see him if you do not at once
find the skipper for me. Come, hurry off, old fellow!” and he raised his
sword as if for another blow.
Aleph stepped between. “It is more fitting that I should do your errand,
if it must be done. You see that I am a young man,” said he, fixing a
steady eye on the haughty and inflamed face before him.
“Who are you who dare to stand between a Roman and his will?” cried the
officer furiously, his hand still uplifted.
“Let it suffice you that we are peaceable people, moving quietly about
on our own private affairs, as Roman law and custom entitle us to do. Do
you understand?”
“I understand that if you do not stand away from between Rome and Egypt,
the Caucasus will suffer,” and the madman began to draw his sword.
“Listen,” said Aleph with composure and emphasis. “You had better not.
You have a superior officer, and we are going to Alexandria. I call all
these people to witness (by this time many had gathered about) that this
quarrel is not of our seeking.”
“Dare you threaten a Roman commander, you beardless cub! By the
immortals, you shall see what I dare,” shouted the man, as he plucked his
sword from the scabbard.
“You _shall_ not,” said Aleph; and, snatching a large bundle from a
by-stander, he thrust it into the face of the Roman. It burst and
enveloped the man in a cloud of pelican feathers, which a Jew had been
collecting for the rag-market of Alexandria. Before his assailant could
recover himself and sight, Aleph had thrown his arms about him, secured
his sword, and, despite his struggles, laid him supine on the floor.
Then, without much difficulty, he managed to swathe and bind his arms to
his body with his long sword-sash. Looking about, his eye caught a small
coil of rope near him; this he drew to himself, and with it fastened the
man in a sitting posture to one of the posts that supported the awning.
All this was not done without much struggling and cursing on the part
of the Roman; but Aleph was perfectly silent till his prisoner was well
secured. Then, turning to the spectators, he said:
“In behalf of the general safety, let this man remain as you see him
till we reach Alexandria. Wine has made him dangerous; and you notice
that what has been done, I only have done, and that reluctantly, to
prevent something worse.”
A cheer flashed out from the faces huddled about, and almost shaped
itself on their parted lips, but was suddenly suppressed before anything
more than an indistinct murmur had escaped; for their eyes fell on the
watchful and infuriated face of the officer. They were prudent people,
those passengers. They admired courage; they were glad to see a Roman
put down; but they were not ready to sacrifice safety to sentiment. So,
instead of cheering, they compromised and fell to laughing at the Jew,
who, exclaiming, “O, my feathers, my poor feathers! Ah, father Abraham,
I am a ruined man this day; what will become of me!” crept about on his
hands and knees, trying to collect as much of his volatile property as
possible.
“Do not worry yourself, my friend,” said Seti to him in a low voice;
“gather what you can, and add this coin to make the weight good. What has
been lost for my sake shall not be loss to you.”
The Jew glanced at the coin that had been slipped into his hand, and,
catching the gleam of gold, hurried it dexterously to his pouch, at
the same time exclaiming, “May all the patriarchs ... oh, my beautiful
feathers for which I paid ... may Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ... ah, what
will become of me!”
And so he went on groping and exclaiming and stuffing handful after
handful of his recovered property into his bag amid the merriment of the
crowd.
Making a sign to the two friends to follow, the Egyptian led the way to
another part of the vessel free from people, where was a single seat. On
this he seated himself.
“I take the privilege of age,” said he, “and I am by no means sure but
that age gives me the only advantage I have over you. I suspect that the
eyes of Seti, though aged, have made a discovery.”
The two friends glanced inquiringly at each other, but said nothing.
They were now moving along the canal that connected the Nile with Lake
Mareotis; and for some time they silently watched the agricultural
operations and the ever-increasing number of people and dwellings on
either bank. At length, emerging into the lake, they saw in the distance
the crowded shipping and towers of the city of Alexandria.
Seti roused himself from the mood of intense thoughtfulness, into which
he had fallen, and asked:
“Are you acquainted with Alexandria?”
Cimon answered: “With the city, well; with the people of the city, not at
all. A generation has passed since I was here.”
“Excuse one further question,” continued the Egyptian. “Do you stay long
in the city?”
“That depends on circumstances,” replied Cimon; “but probably our affairs
will keep us here for some time.”
“This young man has to-day made an enemy, and a powerful one; no less a
person than the dissipated son of Flaccus, the Governor of Egypt. But he
has also found a friend; and if at any time you should need such aid, in
whatever affairs you have in hand, as can be given by a native of the
country, and by one well acquainted with things and persons here and not
altogether without influence, ask at the Serapeum for the priest Seti,
and you will find that I have not forgotten to-day. Do you believe in
faces?” looking at Aleph.
“In _some_ faces, as interpreted by circumstances, I do certainly,”
replied the young man.
“And so do I, at least so far as you are concerned,” said the Egyptian;
“and it is largely because I do so that I now say what I do. There are
two men in Alexandria with whom you should have as little dealing as
possible. One is Flaccus, the Roman; the other is Malus, the Jew. The one
is violent, the other is crafty, and both are wicked and powerful. Avoid
them, if possible; but if it is not possible, then remember Seti, the
Egyptian. It is true—what the proverb says, that in this world the worst
men often occupy the best places.”
As the vessel approached the quay, Seti continued: “I think that,
contrary to my expectation, I will ask one more question before we part.
Of what faith are you? All sorts are found here; also multitudes with no
faith at all. Where do you stand?” looking at Cimon. “Do you hold with
your fathers?”
“With my father,” said the Greek; “but not with my fathers. I follow not
Zeus, but Jehovah; not the oracles of Delphi and Dodona, but those of the
Hebrew prophets. This young man the same.”
“It is as I supposed,” said the old man, after a moment adding, as if to
himself, “and it is well. Zeus, Jupiter, Amun Re, and Jehovah, rightly
understood, are the same.”
Giving them his hand, he stepped ashore, and disappeared in the crowd.
Runners from the various khans now came noisily aboard and fought for
customers, as they do now, and have done from time out of mind. To one
of these troublesome fellows Cimon delivered certain packages, and then,
with his young companion, followed them. In passing the spot where they
had left the Roman, they found that he had disappeared. Who had set him
free? No matter; he is gone. We hope they have seen the last of him. We
hope that returning soberness has made the man so ashamed of himself that
hereafter he will carefully keep out of view. But we have our fears.
The appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober is not always a success.
Besides, Philip was not a Roman.
II.
THE CARAVANSARY.
Αλλη δ’ αλλων γλῶσσα μεμιγμένη.
—HOMER, _Odyss._ xix. 175.
_There was a great confusion of tongues._
1. All sorts.
2. What all believe.
3. An exception.
4. A wrong righted.
II.
THE CARAVANSARY.
The khan to which our two friends were conducted was not far from the
landing. It was the chief point, in that part of the city, of arrival and
departure for commercial people; and, as evening was now near, the great
court within was bustling and picturesque with arrivals. Donkeys were
being led through it to stables in the rear, camels were being unloaded,
horsemen were dismounting; it was a very Babel of sounds, of costumes,
and of movements.
“Is Nathan still the keeper of this khan?” inquired Cimon of their guide,
as they were being shown to their quarters.
“He is,” said the man; “but he is now out of the city. Do you wish to see
his assistant? The master himself will not be at home for, perhaps, some
days.”
Cimon answered in the negative. Following their guide and parcels into
a small sleeping-room, with an ante-room opening on the piazza which
surrounded the court, and directing that a simple meal should be sent
to them in the evening, they busied themselves for a while in arranging
matters for the night. Then they went out on the cooler piazza, and
seated themselves on a bench.
“This adventure with the Roman seems unfortunate,” said Cimon
thoughtfully. “Unless matters have much changed since I was here, the
ill-will of any Roman official is not to be coveted; while that of the
Roman governor looks like quite a serious matter to people on such an
errand as ours.”
“My interference, I suppose,” said Aleph, “would hardly be considered
prudent by most people; but I cannot but think that there is something
better than prudence. Shall we never allow our hearts to speak and act
without stopping to consider how our interests will be affected? Safety
gained in that way seems to me hardly worth the having.”
“I think you are right,” said the other. “I am far from finding fault
with what you have done. Under like circumstances I would have you do
it again. Our first thought, no doubt, should be, What is highest and
worthiest? If that is not prudence, it is something vastly better. But it
_is_ prudence, on the whole; for it will never do for a man to despise
himself and offend Heaven. God governs. But we must wait for Him. A cloud
is not always a calamity. A rough wind may help one toward the harbor
sought. I know that these are your father’s views, and that he would be
unwilling to have his son sacrifice, even magnanimity to any appearance
of present advantage.”
“Have you any idea who Seti is?” inquired the young man after a moment.
“I have been trying,” answered the other, “to find in my memory something
about him. I know that when I was here, the Egyptians as well as the Jews
had an official head or _alabarch_ of their own nation, who was the organ
of communication between them and the Roman authorities. My impression
is that the Egyptian alabarch was of Pharaonic family and a priest of the
Serapeum. It may be that Seti is the man. I hope he is.”
“I confess,” said Aleph, “that the man has quite taken possession of me.
It seems to me that I would be willing to venture almost anything on his
thorough uprightness and even grandeur of character, although I have
known him but such a short time. Did you notice what an aspect he turned
on the Roman just after the blow? Had not the fellow been besotted, the
surprised majesty of that look alone would have quelled him. But how is
it possible for such a man to be a worshipper of brutes, and even to act
as their priest?”
“That is not a question easily answered,” replied the Greek. “But
probably Seti, like all superior Egyptian priests from time immemorial,
believes in a religion for the few and another religion for the many.
The doctrine of One God to be worshiped without sensible figures is for
the few elect who are prepared for it; the lower classes in general are
not prepared for it, but need to have the various divine attributes
shadowed out to them in sensible forms; and as no forms that man can make
are equal to even the familiar living creatures with their wonderful
mysteries of internal structure, these are offered to assist the feeble
thought of feeble men. Of course, this is all wrong; but it is a wrong
imbedded in the traditions and prejudices of ages, and so not easily
escaped from. Jehovah makes allowances for such people, whether their
names be Socrates and Plato or Zoroaster and Seti. Aristotle says that
some of our species have gold blended in their composition from the very
beginning. Seti seems to me one of these.”
By this time the sun was below the west side of the khan, and the
open court was quite in the shade. This brought out into it and the
surrounding piazzas all the guests. It was a motley to see as well as
to hear. Almost every nation seemed represented, almost every style of
features and costume. There were Romans, Greeks, Phenicians, Egyptians,
Persians, Arabs, and even a sprinkling of natives from Gaul, Spain, and
other places. Such a variety of faces, dress, and, when one listened
attentively, of speech! A drag-net of all seas was Nathan’s khan.
Aleph was all eyes and ears. The scene was full of novelty and interest
to him. At length, turning to his companion, he said:
“This scene reminds me of what I have often heard you and my father say.”
“And what is that?” asked Cimon. “Your father, at least, is wont to say
wise things beyond any man I ever knew.”
“That, wide as is the variety of religious beliefs among men, they
believe alike in certain main respects. What differences among the faces
before us as to color, size, proportion of parts, expression; and yet
they are all faces, all human faces, all faces having the same general
plan of structure and location of the various organs.”
“Yes,” added the elder; “_Homines diversi sed homines_, as said a
Roman before you. And see how various the costume; and yet it is all
clothing,—all clothing that recognizes the warm climate, the season of
the year, and to a certain extent the time of day and the convenience of
travelers.”
“And you might add,” continued the young man, after a moment of close
listening, “that it is just so with the various articulate sounds that
come to us. While they differ in tone, in time, in syntax, in dialect,
they are all speech, all articulate speech, and, for the most part,
speech so much of the Greek pattern as to be intelligible to nearly all
of us.”
“Yes,” said Cimon, “and I suppose that it is very much so with the
religious beliefs of these people. Though their creeds differ much among
themselves, they are alike in many most important particulars. They all
recognize a realm of spiritual beings superior to man, a Supreme Deity,
his concern in human affairs, messages from him, our responsibility to
him, a future state of rewards and punishments, and the main principles
of good morals. There may be some exceptions; for these, I understand,
are skeptical times in the Roman world. Almost everything is called in
question among the philosophers, even the fact that there is something
to be called in question; though it is found hard to get men to question
that the Romans are masters, that Tiberius reigns, and that Alexandria
is the greatest emporium of the world. But the vagaries of the schools
make but little impression on the people at large. They never have done
so. The more fundamental beliefs have kept a firm hold on all nations and
ages. A little pool will show the heavens as well as the ocean. This khan
is a little pool; and at the bottom of it, amid many wrinkles and clouds,
one can discover many of the larger stars of religious truth which have
shone on the world from the beginning.”
“And how do you account for these universal beliefs?” asked Aleph.
“It seems to me that they came from a Divine revelation to the first
fathers of the race, and that they were carried forth with them as they
gradually dispersed from their original seats, and that they took root so
deeply in the needs and reasons of men that no evil circumstances have
been able to remove them. It seems to me that as all the routes of trade
in our day naturally converge on Alexandria, so the natural highways of
thought and need all over the world converge on these fundamental truths.”
“No doubt you also think it reasonable to believe that Deity, who
made the deposits with the race, has been personally active all along
to preserve it, as a broad ground for responsibility and further
enlightenment? In addition to a mighty undertow in human nature itself
toward these fundamental truths, there are winds and currents of external
circumstance setting in the same direction by the personal agency of the
Most High.”
“Just so. But look at those men!”
The two persons pointed at had been sitting not far away in the open
court, conversing in a low tone. By degrees their conversation had become
more animated and loud, until now they were earnestly gesturing and
talking so as to be distinctly understood at a distance. It seemed that
one of the disputants was a Phenician, and was endeavoring to settle
an account of long standing with an Alexandrian dealer in Tyrian dyes,
to whom these goods had from time to time been consigned. This dealer
claimed that several of the consignments had been short in both quantity
and quality; and so offered about half the regular price for the whole
lot.
The other protested, called Baal and Ashtaroth to witness that his claim
was just; said that he had trusted for so long and for so much, that if
his accounts were not now allowed, he would be ruined. He had arrived
from Sidon some days before, expressly for the purpose of trying to get
a settlement, but had till now been unable to get even an interview with
the dealer, who was always too busy to see him, but had at last agreed to
have his agent meet him at the khan. This was the meeting. The Phenician
had at first quietly represented the hardships of his case with some hope
of softening the agent, but, growing desperate, he hotly rose from his
seat and exclaimed in a voice that was almost a wail:
“I shall be undone,—quite undone! Have you no mercy?”
“Not much,” said the other, “for some people.”
“Thou flint! Before all the gods my claim is just. What shall I do? My
children will starve.”
“Let them. The fewer such brats the better. Business is business. Take
what I offer or nothing. You have only yourself to blame; you shouldn’t
cheat so.”
“_Cheat!_” exclaimed the Phenician in a transport of wrath that for the
moment drank up his tears like a hot blast from the desert. “_Cheat!_ you
Cretan rascal! You are a pretty fellow to advise against cheating; you
who, I verily believe, never did anything else; nor your fathers either,
for that matter. Who does not know what the honesty of a Cretan is worth?”
By this time many had gathered around. Turning to them, the Phenician
besought their help to make his debtor do him justice.
“Why not go to the judge?” said a by-stander.
“Ah, my friend, I have been imprudent. I cannot _prove_ that my goods
were all right; for I was so careless that I took it for granted that I
was dealing with an honest man, and so neglected to have them examined
and registered at Sidon. Besides, if I had done this, how could I know
but that the packages had been tampered with on their way here? I could
not swear that they came into this man’s hands in as good condition as
they were when they left mine. But _he_ could swear to anything. Why
shouldn’t he? He told me a little while ago, while we were opening our
conference with some general talk, that he did not believe in any god or
hereafter; in short, that he had no religion of any sort. What is to keep
such a man from wronging his neighbor out of his dues when it can be done
safely?”
“This man speaks truth,” said a substantial looking man hard by; “for, as
I was passing here some time ago, I overheard this atheist sneering at
all religion. Said I to myself, that man is a rogue. Is cheating too bad
a thing for such a fellow to do? Hassan thinks not.”
On this another cried out: “Some of us know Hassan. His word is good. I
think as he does: that a man who has robbed himself of his conscience
would not hesitate to rob a Phenician of his goods.”
“Exactly so,” said another just behind, as he gave his neighbor a push
toward the Cretan. “A man who does not believe in anything good believes
in everything bad.”
“Oh, the fellow is an imitation philosopher, is he? The genuine is bad
enough, but an imitation is worse—mere husks. And husks are thrown away.
Let’s throw him away;” and the speaker drew his girdle a hit tighter.
“And _I_ would not trust the rascal with a fig,” cried another, as he
shied a rather sorry specimen of the fruit at the Cretan.
“Hustle him out—hustle him out,” cried several at once, throwing up their
hands.
The crowd seemed on the point of doing it. The Cretan turned pale as he
saw them moving upon him, and began to retreat toward the gate. Seeing
this, some of the people ran and planted themselves in the way. Finding
himself intercepted, the man jumped on a bench and cried in a frightened
voice:
“Friends, do not harm me. I am only an agent in this matter. I do what I
am bid. My principal is MALUS.”
Malus, Malus—the word passed from mouth to mouth in a low tone. It
seemed magical. At once the outcry ceased. The billow of angry faces
and hands that was rushing toward the Cretan suddenly stood still, and
then slowly broke into many little whispering, murmuring whirlpools. The
way to the gate was no longer barred, and the Cretan made his way to it
precipitately, and disappeared. There was no danger of pursuit.
The Phenician sat down again, and covered his face with his hands. Our
two friends talked together for a few moments in a low tone. Then Aleph
rose and went to the man; and, after exchanging a few words with him,
conducted him to Cimon. A long conversation followed. At last Cimon came
forward to the edge of the piazza, and beckoned for attention. He already
had it—had indeed been having it for some time; but seeing the gesture,
the people came nearer.
“I do not express any opinion,” said the Greek, “as to the justice of
this man’s cause. We have not at present the means for judging that. But,
unless all the usual marks fail, this is a case of genuine distress; and
one that is not likely to be helped by a resort to the courts. The man
confesses that he has been imprudent. Besides, he is too poor to bear the
expense of a suit. And if he could, a suit would probably be in vain.
When the weak contend with the powerful, the weak must go to the wall.
So, rightly or wrongly, the poor man will lose his debt; his family will
suffer, and he will be in danger of losing all heart by losing in his old
age the labor of years. I propose that we help him. The sum lost, though
large to him, would not be large to us. A small contribution from each of
us will set him on his feet again. Who of you will join me in making it,
perhaps in righting a great wrong?”
And, stepping forward, he laid a piece of gold on the bench where the
Phenician had sat. Aleph rose and put another by the side of it. Hassan
promptly came up and did the same. The example was followed by others,
until at last Aleph, coming forward and examining the amount contributed,
pronounced it quite sufficient to cover the loss. He handed the sum to
the Phenician.
The man seemed for a moment almost bewildered as he received it. He then
fell on his knees and thanked his gods in a few trembling words; then
springing to his feet, he lifted up his voice and wept. At last he found
words and composure enough to say to the people:
“My friends, you have saved me. I was ready to die; would gladly have
died a few moments ago; but now I can live, because my family can. I
bless you in the name of my little children. You may be sure that you
have not helped a rogue; the facts are as I have given them. Before the
gods I am an honest man, though I could not prove it before your judges.
Again I thank you; and,” turning to Cimon and Aleph, “especially these
two friends, who, though strangers to me, have this day stood between me
and ruin. If Sansciano ever forgets them, may....”
Here he fairly broke down, and suddenly turning to one of the pillars
that supported the piazza, buried his face in his hand.
The sudden night of Egypt was now upon them, and the torches began to
flame. After exchanging a few more words with the Phenician, the two
friends withdrew to their rooms; but not before they had caught glimpse
of a Roman uniform entering the little office near the gate of the court.
Did it give them any uneasiness? I hope not. Borrowing trouble is poor
business. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. And then, is there
not a shield broad as the heavens above the good? Trust it, ye strangers,
and go to sleep—if ye are indeed good.
_Are_ they good men? For one, I am inclined to believe in them. Not
so much because of their good looks, as because they look good. Not
so much from what they have said and done during the few hours of our
acquaintance with them, as from a certain—well, let the word be written,
though deservedly somewhat unpopular of late—_intuition_. There is
something wonderfully prepossessing in the look of both these strangers.
It is hard to say what that something is that so bespeaks confidence,
but that it exists and speaks mightily there is no denying—at least
by me. I seem to look right through those frank and fearless yet kind
eyes into noble souls. It may be only a seeming. I shall not attempt to
justify myself to the philosophers. If they choose to remind me that
appearances are sometimes deceptive; that virtue is often very cleverly
imitated; in short, that old proverbs declare that “All is not gold that
glitters,” and that “Fair outsides often cover foul insides,” I have
nothing to say against it. I shall not argue the case with them. They
would have the best of it from the arguing stand-point. Intuitions cannot
be defended. So I will do nothing but express a modest opinion that such
well-appearing people will turn out as good as they look. Even this, no
doubt, will look sufficiently foolish to some; and should they conclude
to suspend judgment as to the character of Cimon and Aleph till they have
seen more of them in the progress of the narrative, I shall not complain.
They are acting sensibly—as the world goes. They certainly are on very
safe ground. “By their fruits ye shall know them” is a maxim whose
authority cannot be controverted. And if, in the application of this
maxim, they shall discover that the two strangers are no better than they
should be, or as bad as the worst, I can only hang my head in confusion,
and confess that the logic of experience is better than intuition—_my_
intuition.
III.
THE BANKER.
Τὰ χρήματα νεῦρα τῶν πραγμάτον.
PLUTARCH, _Cleom._ 27.
_Money, the sinews of business._
1. A financial emperor.
2. His greatest treasure.
3. Pharisees and Sadducees.
4. Poor Miriam!
III.
THE BANKER.
Whether Cimon and Aleph slept the sleep of the just we must leave to
be settled in the progress of the narrative. I am, I again confess,
prepossessed in their favor. At any rate, they slept so soundly that most
of the guests of the khan had gone off on their various affairs before
the two friends made their appearance.
Perhaps, too, they were delayed by a cause that did not delay many of
their fellow-guests—morning worship. It seems that they acknowledged
Jehovah and a revelation from him; and it is to be presumed that such
people began their day in the reasonable and old-fashioned way. When have
devout believers not acted on the principle that prayer and provender
hinder no man’s journey? Besides, they breakfasted in their own room;
whereas most inmates of the khan patronized the cook shops that abounded
in the neighborhood.
After the meal they went out and seated themselves on the bench they had
occupied the evening before.
“The first thing to be done,” said Cimon, “is to find a suitable banker
and open an account with him for such Alexandrian funds as we may need.
As one of our objects requires that we be unknown, and especially that
our connection with your father should not reach the ears of Malus, we
cannot use our draft on him except in case of absolute necessity. We must
depend on the jewels. And they are too valuable to be trusted to any but
the best hands. If the Jewish family that held the alabarchate when I
was here last is still in business, this would be the one to apply to.
They were as noted for their integrity as for their immense wealth and
influence at Rome. I will go and ask our deputy-host whether they have
now any representative in Alexandria.”
After a short absence the Greek returned with two canes in his hand,
and with the information that the old banking-house was flourishing
more than ever in the person of Alexander, the son of the old Alabarch;
that the son had succeeded to all his father’s honors and more than his
father’s wealth; and that, as the imperial banker, his influence at Rome
was supposed to be even greater than among his own people for whom he
had lately enriched the nine gates of the temple at Jerusalem with gold
plates of enormous value. It was generally understood in the city that
he had lately prevented certain oppressive measures against the Jews of
Antioch by threatening to withhold a loan. Some went so far as to tell
how many millions of sesterces each minute brought him, and even supposed
that he had discovered the art of turning base metals into gold.
“I am sorry that we did not ask Seti about the present Alabarch,” said
Cimon; “but I have no doubt from what I know of the family that he is the
person to whom we should apply.”
“I have also learned two other facts,” he continued. “One is that the
greatest galley in all the three harbors is Malus himself, and that the
Cretan of last night is one of several small tenders that wait on the
great ship and do its meaner work—which means that the oversight of the
harbors and of the import trade has mainly fallen into the hands of Malus
and his agents, and that the fear of him is on all small dealers, whom
he could easily crush, especially as he is on the best of terms with the
Roman authorities of the city. The other fact is that a Roman soldier was
at the khan-office last night to inquire whether two men (describing us)
were staying here. The deputy said that he managed not to enlighten the
man much—as it was always safe to assume that what a Roman wanted to know
ought not to be known.”
“Would it not be well for us,” said the young man, “to make some changes
in our dress so as to embarrass such inquiries?... I am glad to see that
you have brought in your hand something to help us discourage unpleasant
recognitions,” he added with a smile and a glance at the canes. “They
have a tough and serviceable look.”
“They certainly may be useful on occasion. But every gentleman in
Alexandria is in the habit of carrying a cane; for us to do the same
will help ward off notice as well as assault. Dogs and donkeys abound;
and some of them walk on two legs. A stout stick, with your skill at
fence and thrust, will be almost as good as a sword.... As to making some
changes in dress, I think your suggestion a good one. I also think that
it would be well for you, at least, to dress somewhat more richly to-day,
inasmuch as you must be the one to do our business with the banker. Till
one is known appearance goes far. Meanwhile I will brush up my knowledge
of the city and its people. We will meet here late in the day.”
Cimon then produced his tablets and drew on them a rough plan of the
city—one central street, two hundred feet broad, running between the lake
and the sea from the gate of the Moon to the gate of the Sun, and called
Emporium Street: this crossed in the middle at right angles by another
street of similar breadth, but of much less length, called the street of
Canopus, ending on the west at the gate of the Necropolis, and on the
east at the gate of Canopus: these two main streets cut at right angles
by all the rest: here, in the south-east, the Jews’ quarter, occupying
two of the five divisions of the city: there, north of this quarter and
extending to the two harbors Eunostus and Kibotus, and including all the
frontage on these harbors called Bruchium, the Greek and Roman quarters.
These latter also include a narrow section of the city lying along the
whole length of Emporium Street on the west. Just west of this section
is Rachotis or the Egyptian quarter, in the southern part of which, on
the highest ground in the city, stands the Serapeum, the famous temple of
Jupiter Serapis.
“Entering at the gate of the Moon,” continued Cimon, “you are to pass up
Emporium Street till you come to the street of Canopus: here turn to your
right, and, after a short walk, you will find by inquiry the place of the
great banker.”
Surely, the way was so plain that no guide would be needed. So, after
making some changes in his dress, Aleph took his cane and set forth.
By this time the whole Alexandrian world, the most industrious and
bustling world known in ancient times, was in full movement. Such tides
of men surging from sea to lake and from lake to sea—such tides of
donkeys and horses and camels going and coming—such a menagerie and
roar of sounds from the tramp of thousands, the shrill calls of traders
hawking their wares, the cries of the animals and their drivers, the
infinite clatter from the tools of artisans of every name pouring out
from the open shops far and near! Slowly on went the young man, with eyes
full of grave interest, along the splendid thoroughfare for two miles,
till he came to the ornate square, half a league in circumference, from
the centre of which one could, without changing his place, see the lake
on the south and the harbors with their dividing mole (Heptastadium) and
its Pharos on the north, as well as the sands of the desert at both ends
of the street of Canopus. Turning down this street to the east under one
of the magnificent colonnades that skirted it on either hand, he noticed
as he advanced not only that the leading places of business were held
by Jews (a fact that he had noticed on the other street), but that the
farther he went the more people he saw with Jewish features.
Before he had gone very far, two young men with caps and black gowns,
something like the present English university dress, hurried by him; one
saying to the other as they passed:
“The earlier at the Alabarch’s the better. First come, first served, you
know.”
Aleph quickened his pace so as to keep near them. They soon came to
what seemed a fortress rather than a private dwelling or place of
business—solid stone, no windows on the first story, length on the street
several times that of an ordinary dwelling. Solidity and strength rather
than show was the impression given—no elaborate carvings, no pillars
of porphyry and cornelian, but plain, massive, mob-defying marble; in
short, an architectural _safe_. This structure was on a corner. Turning
the corner, the young men came by a few steps to a small door. Aleph
followed closely; and when the door opened to the others, he entered with
them and was ushered into a reception-room close by, where many others
were already waiting their turn to be called into the presence of the
financial magnate.
Soon a servant presented on a silver salver tablets to the new-comers,
on which each should write his name. When the tablets came to Aleph he
noticed that the names of the two young men who had just written were _P.
Cornelius, Serapeum_, and _Q. Metellus, Museum_. What did _he_ write?
After a moment’s hesitation he wrote _Aleph, the Chaldean, khan near the
gate of the Moon_.