Μεγάλα πρήγματα μεγάλοσι κινδύνοιισι.—Herodotus, vii. 50.Great results from great dangers.1. An anxious friend.2. Seti defends himself.3. So does Aleph.4. Who is to blame?
Μεγάλα πρήγματα μεγάλοσι κινδύνοιισι.
—Herodotus, vii. 50.
Great results from great dangers.
An evening of such experiences as we have just described would be followed by a sleepless night in the case of most persons at the present day. But those were adventurous times; the element of uncertainty and peril entered into them far more largely than it does into our daily life; and the habit of coolly accepting the situation and accommodating themselves to it was common among men of standing and courage. So the reader must not be surprised to learn that our friends, after thanking Heaven for their preservation, slept about as soundly through the night as if they had suffered no narrow escape and were anticipating nothing but safety on the morrow.
Their morning devotions and meal had been finished, and they were conferring as to Seti’s proposal that they should remove to the Serapeum, when a knock was heard on their door, and the high priest himself made his appearance.
“What means all this?” he exclaimed, as he closed the door behind him and took the rude stool which was all that Aleph had to offer him; “the whole khan behind time, everything in a litter, the staging in the court inthe last stages of a debauch; above all the clubs before your door and the battered state of the door itself, to say nothing of the broken seat before it!”
Cimon explained.
“Now you see why I am here so early this morning,” resumed the priest. “My thoughts were so full of apprehension on your account during the night that I could not sleep; and I determined that as soon as possible in the morning I would seek you out and again urge you to remove at once to the Serapeum. This evidently is no place for you. It is plain that Malus and the son of the governor have gotten into communication with each other and have joined their forces—plain that the chief object of the doings here last night was a three-fold assault on you through your fears, through magical powers, and through human assassins. These were the three strings to their bow. They hoped that if the others failed the clubs of Draco and his helpers would do the work and the magical powers which you defied take all the blame of it. You see with what characters you have to deal. Behold a fair sample of what these men are capable of doing. So come to the Serapeum without delay.”
“We were speaking of your kind offer just as you came in,” said Cimon, “and were debating whether we could properly accept it; and had about come to the conclusion that we could not do so without dragging the only friends we have in Alexandria into trouble with powerful people—which would be a poor return for the kindness we have received.”
“Leave me to judge,” returned Seti coolly, “as to the amount of trouble I can afford to be at for your sake.The offer I make is made freely in view of the circumstances.”
“We have been afraid,” said Aleph, “that your view of the circumstances is not as complete as it should be before we allow your generous kindness to embroil you with perhaps the government itself. You already know that Malus supposes himself seriously in danger from us, and that so we are seriously in danger from him. But you have not known distinctly who we are, and what we propose to do. As to who we are, we are still compelled to be silent; but it is fitting that you learn now the nature of Cimon’s relations to Malus. Cimon is the dear friend and business manager of an eastern trader who for many years has had large dealings with Malus—consigning to him a large amount of costly eastern goods yearly. We now find, what has long been suspected, that the consignee has made false returns as to the amount of goods received, and prices obtained for them, and the duties levied on them at this port. Complete proof of this, as we suppose, is contained in the parcel of papers put into your hands yesterday. We also cannot doubt that a comparison of these papers with the custom house registers (which comparison we have not been able to make) would show that Malus has defrauded the government as well as ourselves, and perhaps that officials are in collusion with him. The interests he has at stake, therefore, are so large that he is sure to be as bitterly hostile to our friends as to us. And besides, as you see, he seems to have secured a hold of some sort on the Roman authorities themselves. So the man who undertakes to befriend us undertakes a great deal. We are very reluctant to embroil you, and perhaps the family of the Alabarch in so seriousa trouble. On this account we have refrained from asking advice from you in regard to our preliminary movements.”
“The case as stated by you,” replied Seti, still with the utmost coolness, “is not worse than I supposed; and I still press my invitation. Trouble there will be, no doubt; but, then, if I do not accept this trouble I shall have a greater from another quarter; for my granddaughter sent a messenger to me this morning as soon as it was light to stir me up to do what I am now doing. If I were to be backward in this matter,” he added with a smile, “I am afraid she would rouse all my students against me; which she could easily do, for she is a queen to P. Cornelius. Moreover, it is barely possible that both Alexander and myself have just a little of that generous indignation at wickedness that led certain persons of our acquaintance to stand up for us without counting the cost. Who gave Greeks and Chaldeans a monopoly of that sort of thing? No, friends, you must not ask me to do what you would not, I am confident, be willing to do yourselves.”
Of course nothing more was to be said. And our friends said nothing more—save thanks. It was agreed that they should send their effects at once to the Serapeum by certain servants whom Seti had left without, and follow them in person in the course of the day.
This matter being disposed of, Seti continued, “Now tell me what steps you have taken to bring that arch-rogue to justice.”
“I have done nothing,” said Cimon, “save to collect evidence; and have been uncertain what further steps to take.”
“You should put your proofs at once in the hands of Alexander’s lawyer. If he judges them sufficient for this latitude and for a Roman Court (for a Roman Court it must be, since the case is between a Greek and a Jew), let him put things in train without delay. You could find no more skillful advocate; and he has the further advantage, somewhat rare in his profession, of being an honest man. This in itself will instinctively enlist him against such a rogue as Malus. He will do all he can to bring the fellow to justice.”
“Can you tell me what the prospects for justice in a Roman Court are?”
“The Roman law, in general, is just; but a case has to be very clear or the strong rogues, in Alexandria as elsewhere, will manage to escape by means of the evasions, delays, appeals, and various tricks that are purchasable by the free use of money. It is said that all things are venal at Rome. I am afraid the state of things is no better in Alexandria. Malus will use money freely—can you do the same?”
“That depends,” said Cimon. “For such purposes as the collecting of evidence and the securing of the ablest advocate that can be had, I sayYesto your question. For the purpose of bribing the judges, I sayNo.”
“This is the answer I expected from you. But your enemy has no scruples. He will have the freedom of all means—righteous and unrighteous. In this respect he has much the advantage over you—always provided that there is no God, and that there is a devil. But in certain other important respects you have an advantage over him.”
“Will you tell us in what?” suggested Aleph.
“First, in the intrinsic justice of your cause; for I have no doubt that the case is as you have stated it. Next, the evil repute of Malus among the better class of people is against him. They all know that he is capable of doing just the sort of thing you charge against him—that, in fact, he has done it in multitudes of cases and has only escaped by the terror which he inspires in people too weak financially and otherwise to contend with him. It is worth while for even Roman judges to make some account of the higher grades of public opinion. Further, it would not be strange if many of the small victims of Malus should summon courage in the presence of so large a suit as yours to appear against him with an amount of testimony that would be overwhelming.”
“I understand then,” said Cimon, “that even if our proofs are legally complete, we still have reason to fear that venality on the part of the judges and hostility on the part of the Governor and other officials will find means to set them aside.”
“Yes—it certainly is to be feared. Malus has undoubtedly patched up an alliance, if not with the Governor himself, at least with Romans who can bring heavy influence to bear upon him and so on the courts. We must not shut our eyes on this fact. It is our main disadvantage. But to offset this the Alabarch and myself can also bring heavy influences—and they shall not be wanting.”
“We are fortunate and thankful to find such friends—especially as we have no choice but to proceed. We will proceed and trust Heaven for the result. I think this is the conclusion to which we have come, and thatwe are ready to authorize our friend to place our papers in the hands of the advocate he proposes,” and he looked inquiringly at Aleph.
Aleph slightly bowed. After a moment, however, he added:
“Still I would be glad if, before legal proceedings are begun, we could give Malus an opportunity to retrace his steps. I would like to try what effect expostulation under the perils of his situation would have. The Most High practices forbearance to sinners; and such I understand is the practice of the Messiah toward his enemies. His miracles show that he has power enough to overwhelm them all with the greatest ease, but he forbears and tries on them the effect of more light and expostulation. I would be glad to imitate God and His Christ.”
Seti started to his feet in amazement.
“And this after your very lives have been so foully assailed! This way of doing things is neither Egyptian, nor Greek, nor Roman, nor even Jewish—however God-like and Christ like it may be.”
“I confess,” said Cimon, “that I have something of the feeling that my young friend has expressed. I am reluctant to drive a man to what may prove his ruin without giving him a chance for his life. To be sure, I have small hope of a favorable result from any appeal we can make to the conscience and fears of Malus. But I should feel easier if it were made.”
“Well, be it so!” said Seti after a short silence. “Make the experiment. See what merciful dealings can do. At the most, it only means the delay of a day or so.... Now let us see what you willwriteto this promising candidate for repentance and reformation: for I willnever give my consent that you go in person into the den of such a serpent.”
Aleph looked at Cimon. The Greek nodded. The young man seated himself at a table and slowly wrote as follows:
“Cimon, manager and representative, to Malus, consignee and merchant.“It has been discovered that the returns which you have made for many years to the business which I represent are not in accordance with the facts, and that now a very large sum of money is due us. I am reluctant to appeal to the courts to enforce our claims; and hope that your sense of justice and of responsibility to a Higher Power will make such an appeal unnecessary. A satisfactory assurance from you of regret for the past and an upright purpose for the future will dispose me to abate much from my just claim upon you.“Let me hear from you to-day at theKhan Rachotis.”
“Cimon, manager and representative, to Malus, consignee and merchant.
“It has been discovered that the returns which you have made for many years to the business which I represent are not in accordance with the facts, and that now a very large sum of money is due us. I am reluctant to appeal to the courts to enforce our claims; and hope that your sense of justice and of responsibility to a Higher Power will make such an appeal unnecessary. A satisfactory assurance from you of regret for the past and an upright purpose for the future will dispose me to abate much from my just claim upon you.
“Let me hear from you to-day at the
Khan Rachotis.”
“I have great misgivings as to this merciful plan of yours,” said Seti, “and only give my consent to it on condition that you authorize me to place your papers in the hands of our advocate at once, without waiting to see the result of your appeal. If it is successful you can recall the parcel unbroken. Otherwise it is to be used without delay. You agree?”
“So be it,” said Cimon.
“Does the parcel contain as full an explanation of the case as the advocate will need?”
“So it seems to me.”
This ended the conversation. A servant of the khanwas immediately called and dispatched with the letter to Malus. Seti himself remained till he had seen the main effects of his friends put into the hands of two servants of his own for transference to the Serapeum. It was agreed that the owners should follow as soon as possible.
As chance would have it (I confess that I dislike such language on both scientific and religious grounds), they were not detained long. Their messenger met Malus at no great distance from the khan; and soon returned with a spoken message that they should either see or hear from him at the khan early the coming evening.
What should they do in the meantime? Aleph consulted his programme of lectures, and found that Seti was to speak at the third hour in his course on Comparative Religions—special topic,The Religion of Egypt. They would settle with their landlord and then leisurely find their way to the lecture. They were curious to hear what the high-priest of Egypt would say about its religion. Perhaps they would get some light on the mystery of his position.
Accordingly, in due time they found themselves in the lecture-room of the Serapeum. They noticed that the room was fuller than before, and conjectured that this was owing to the special interest felt in the topic to be discussed. Seti evidently noticed their presence as he came in and passed near them to his seat on the dais.
What follows is a condensed statement of the main points of the lecture—without the vigorous argument and abundant illustrations by which these points were supported.
Seti began with reminding the students that he had in previous lectures on the origin and history of religionexpressed the conviction that its earliest stage in all countries was monotheism. The evidence of this, he thought to be especially clear in the case of Egypt. All his researches had converged on a remote time when the Egyptian temples contained no visible object of worship; but were dedicated to a single spiritual Being who was supposed to be the eternal, almighty, and all wise creator of all things else, and who was to be worshipped by prayer and praise and gifts and sacrifice. They called HimAmun Re.
How long the popular religion remained at this point is not known. Nor is it known by any record how a change came to take place. But probably it was after this manner. Some of the ruder people began to use visible symbols of the Great Spirit to assist their conception and devotion; and by degrees their example was copied extensively by the people at large. The next step was to pass from the worship of the Being symbolized to the worship of the symbol itself—a thing about as easy as the descent of rivers to the sea.
Before long there crept in a new element. The people had all along believed, as all other nations have done, in a multitude of invisible beings, intermediate between the Supreme and man in dignity and faculty, and having more or less influence over human fortunes. These, whether supposed good or bad, the people gradually came to think it worth while to propitiate by various services and honors, very much as they were accustomed to do to the various grades of powerful officials under the Pharaohs; and in process of time the services and honors given to these minor but nearer deities grew to overshadow those ofAmun Rehimself.
This secondary worship, too, found symbols natural and convenient. Its objects were invisible beings hard to be conceived of and realized. In this case the familiar animals of the country were taken as symbols. Foreigners have sometimes wondered at this, and perhaps with some reason; but there are not wanting philosophers who say that even the humblestlivingcreature is a more wonderful object than any dead statue can be, though of the most precious material and exquisite workmanship; and that it better represents the wisdom and power of a living spiritual being. Whatever one may think of the propriety of this animal symbolism, it was certainly general in Egypt at a very early period. And men went as naturally from such a symbolism to a worship of the symbols themselves as they did to sin and death.
But where, meanwhile, was the priesthood ofAmun Re? Through all these changes among the lower orders the higher Egyptian priesthood held fast the original theory of religion. To them there was still but one God to whom religious worship should be paid, and He should be worshipped without symbol. So they resisted the downward drift—resisted it strongly. But the popular current was too strong for them. And, after long struggling against it unsuccessfully, they came by degrees to feel that the lower orders are incapable of worthily grasping and appropriating a strictly spiritual religion—that the gross thoughts and cares and toils amid which their lives are necessarily spent make a grosser form of religion a necessity to them. The heavens are best read and understood from eminences—how can the stars of the higher truth be seen to advantage save from the eminences of human life with their culture and leisure and broad outlook?They cannot. It must not be expected. A spiritual religion is not for the vulgar. It is too high and sacred for common handling. It were a profanation of the lofty and holy to put them into such hands as hold our plows, work our quarries, and embalm our dead.
These views at first tolerated, then favored, next embraced and justified, and finally established as a policy and institution, made two worlds in Egypt, with a great abyss between them, which have continued down to the present time. On the one hand has been the world of Pharaohs, priests and philosophers holding fast the primitive religion of Egypt as a sacred Mystery: on the other hand has been a world of peasants and idolaters judged unfit for such high knowledge and carefully excluded from it.
“Such,” continued Seti, “was the Egypt which I found. Such was the policy, solid and venerable with the approval and practice of thousands of years, that I inherited. It was an ungrateful inheritance. I came early to doubt its wisdom and righteousness; and by the time when power came into my hands I had made up my mind to resist and forsake it just as far and fast as possible. I knew that a sudden change was not wisely possible. I realized that reforms of ancient evils that have become intertwined with the whole structure of society must be carefully and gradually made. Else social convulsions will follow. More damage would come from violent and precipitate measures than would come from the evil they attack. With the power of an emperor I could not have wisely abolished the old order of things by edict.
“All this I felt profoundly. And so when the supremepriesthood came to me, while I determined to proceed at once and thoroughly to the great problem of restoring our religion to its primitive purity among the lower classes, I also determined to proceed cautiously. I labored to change the views of the priesthood already on the stage. As director of all the schools for young priests, I sought to shape their education toward the original order of things. I enlarged as much as possible the number of the initiated in the higher classes. I took pains (how much some of you well know) to impress my views on the young men gathered here for education from all parts of the world—hoping that the truth would filter down through the upper strata into the lower and the lowest. And, further, I have persuaded and instructed the priests who deal directly with the common people to push into the background, more and more, the secondary deities—to bring to the front, more and more, the Supreme One; and to insist upon it that there be no worship of the symbols of even Him, only of the Being symbolized; all to prepare the way for withdrawing the symbols themselves.
“I may have been too lingering and indirect in my action. Some of my friends think as much. It is not easy to judge in such matters. I would be glad if we could have a Divine Teacher, such as Plato craved, to tell us with authority exactly what to do. But until He comes (if indeed He has not already come) we must take the course that seems to promise the most good with the least harm. Unsuccessful violence on the traditional religious habits of the people would be likely to give us political and social convulsions which would be bad enough: successful violence would be likelyto give us general atheism which would be worse. Young men (and his voice grew graver and more emphatic as his eye went searchingly around among the earnest faces), Young men, remember that there is something worse than worshipping Nilus, or the ibis: it isthe not worshipping at all.”
The students now supposed the lecture finished; but after a silence of a few moments Seti added:
“Some of you may feel like asking how this course of mine can consist with the position I hold as head of the Egyptian religion. If an answer to this is not sufficiently implied in what I have said already, let me add that I regard myself as being the high-priest of the original religion of Egypt, according to our ancient institutions; and do not feel bound to the variations from it that have been mistakenly introduced by others. Further, in the course I am pursuing I have the approval of most of those who have always had in charge the religious concerns of the country—the higher priesthood. And still further, I am not chargeable with double-dealing—for, as you will bear me witness, I make no secret of my views and purposes; and my position does not require me to officiate at the worship of any secondary deity, but only at that of Amun Re Himself. Even the symbols of Him under the name of Serapis I do not now use either in public or private. The statue of Him belonging to this temple has not been before the public for a number of years.”
This concluded the lecture. But the young men, too much interested in both the manner and the matter of their teacher to be in any hurry to get away, were still lingering in their seats, when a young man appeared at the door and politely asked their attention. He said thathe had been deputed by the Museum to lay a certain complaint before them. It appeared that a stranger had been received to student matriculation by the Serapeum without actual testing in athletics. This step was certainly very unusual, if not wholly unprecedented; and the Museum felt obliged to complain of it after a fraternal and gentlemanly fashion, and to ask that the ancient usage of the University may not be violated.
Publius Cornelius sprang to his feet. “It is, I believe, according to the ancient usage of the University that the examination which satisfies one of its departments shall satisfy the other also. I beg to inform Quintius Metellus that we examined the candidate to whom he refers as to athletic matters, and were abundantly satisfied with the examination.”
“Still it appears,” blandly returned the somewhat foppish and fast looking young Metellus, “that no actual trial of strength and skill was made; and the Museum cannot but think that if the new-comer is really deserving of such exceptional treatment he will be willing to content us with an actual instead of an imaginary testing in the more advanced athletics. The Museum has presumed on his willingness, and is at this moment present in a body in your gymnasium awaiting his appearance.”
“This seems to me,” began P. Cornelius in a tone just a little tinged with indignation—but Aleph, making a sign to him, interposed:
“I beg,” said he, “that our president will not press his view. I am quite willing to content the Museum, and should be sorry to have any feel that an ancient usage of the University has been unreasonably set asidein my favor. I hope, therefore, that the Serapeum will yield to the wishes of the Museum.”
“This is very satisfactory,” returned Q. Metellus. “But I am also instructed to say that inasmuch as the social standing of the new student is unknown to us, it seems to us that the testing should be on the more gentlemanly accomplishments. This will throw some light on whether he is entitled to mingle on equal terms with the representatives of the best families of the empire.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed P. Cornelius. “Use your eyes, Metellus!”
But Aleph gravely said, “I do not object to the new proposition of the Museum.”
“One more particular, and I have finished my mission. The Museum also requests that the testing may be by our professional teachers of equestrianism and fence. The testing is likely to be more scientifically done; and if well sustained will be more creditable to the candidate. I hope he will gratify us also in this particular.”
“In this particular also,” said Aleph quietly—“assuming that nothing unfair is intended, and that I shall not be asked to attempt anything which the trainer is not willing to attempt himself.”
“This condition is reasonable—do you accept it?” demanded Cornelius. Receiving a nod of assent, he continued. “Then we will proceed to the gymnasium—under protest. I demur to the whole proceeding. Our new associate is too compliant. The Museum is extravagant and unreasonable. It will bear watching—Gentlemen of the Serapeum!” he exclaimed, after a moment’s pause, “I move you that we invite the venerable Seti to accompanyus to the gymnasium. It will conduce to order and fairness.”
The suggestion was heartily ratified.
The gymnasium was near. The fair occupants of the latticed gallery already mentioned, and of whose presence some faint signs had appeared during the lecture, had only to remove to the opposite side of the same large room to command as good a view and almost as good a hearing of what might pass in the gymnasium as they had been having of the lecture room. Did they remove? Who knows? Was the Gem of Alexandria, with her lofty brow and shining eyes, among them? Who knows? Certainly not Aleph the Chaldean.
The large court of the temple had been fitted up for athletic exercises. We need only say in regard to it that it was large enough to inclose a small hippodrome at the centre; that on the right and left of a broad passage leading down to this from the main entrance were tiers of movable seats rising one above another. Those on the left were already occupied by the Museum in full force when the Serapeum came crowding in and took the seats on the right. Then appeared Seti and took the seat of honor in the middle of the passage. Last of all came P. Cornelius and our two friends. These walked down at once to the edge of the hippodrome, when Cimon took a seat on the right, and Aleph and Cornelius remained standing—
Before a man, who, a long whip in hand, was holding at full length the rein of a superb looking horse with a riding cloth strapped upon him.
“What do you wish?” said Aleph to the trainer in equestrianism.
“Handle this Arabian in all ways—mount, trot around the course, canter and gallop, maintain your seat under shouts and the hissing of this whip.”
“Has this horse any peculiarities?” asked Cornelius.
“This the stranger is to find out for himself,” said the trainer gruffly.
“The animal has the eye of a demon,” continued Cornelius; “and it is agreed between the Museum and us that you, Beco, are not to ask my friend to do what you are not willing to undertake yourself. So I now ask you to mount—in short, do yourself what you ask from him.”
“I am here to examine, not to be examined,” and the man shrugged his shoulders and tried, unsuccessfully, to look amused.
“Do you refuse?” demanded Cornelius.
“I refuse to be tested myself; I am not a candidate for matriculation,” was the surly reply.
Cornelius looked anxiously around, and seeing the trainer of the Serapeum standing not far away, he beckoned to him; and on his approach conferred with him in a low voice for a moment.
“It is as I thought,” he then cried out so that all could hear; “our own equestrian trainer judges this animal to be vicious and dangerous—evidently so dangerous that he would not himself venture to attempt mounting him. I appeal to the University against such unfairness!”
No notice was taken of this appeal; for by this time both Serapeum and Museum were watching with breathless interest the proceedings of Aleph.
After his first words to the trainer he seemed to take no notice of what others were doing. His whole attentionwas absorbed by the formidable animal before him. Soon he stepped forward to the side of Beco, and stood there for a few moments looking steadily into the flaming eyes of the horse. Then he silently took the rein into his hand and motioned Beco with his whip into the background. There they stood alone for a while, confronting each other—the soul of the man looking out of his eyes, and the soul of the brute looking out of his—the one calm, confident, masterful; the other brimful of willfulness, resistance, determination, passion, and malignity. Each of them seemed to be asking the other,Which of us shall be master?
Aleph began to draw gently on the rein. The horse showed his teeth, champed his bit, struck the ground fiercely with his forefoot, seemed on the point of springing on his enemy. But Aleph gave not the slightest sign of apprehension. Not the smallest movement that looked toward self-protection was apparent. On the contrary, he advanced a step, and, if possible, his attitude grew firmer, his port more commanding, and his eyes shot out their rays into the brute eyes with a still more confident majesty. He saw the fierce eyes before him beginning to soften, to waver. He advanced another step. He laid his hand softly on the thin, quivering nostrils. He began to speak—meanwhile caressing with a gentle hand the soft nostril, the long forelock, the tapering ears.
“You are one of ten thousand—finely formed, powerfully built, full of grace and strength and spirit. A steed for a warrior! But you are not an Arabian. Parthia was your mother. And you are as wild as the wildest of the Parthians. I do not think that you have everfelt the weight of a man. You have been bitted, but never ridden. You have been mismanaged and abused till you think every man an enemy. It is a mistake. You have at last found a friend. Now we understand each other—do we not?”
The noble head had begun to droop toward the soothing tones when Aleph, putting both arms with the rein over it, drew it gently still lower, patted it, patted the heavy mane, patted the proud arch of the neck, patted the shapely flank, patted the royal curve of the back, patted that royal curve with both hands—a moment more wasseatedupon it, rein in hand.
What a bound there was then! The demon that had been cast out came back seven-folded. But the horse seemed to think that he had a demon on his back instead of within him. He sprang into the air with such suddenness and violence that one would have thought him thunderstruck into a resolution to forsake the earth at once and forever in favor of a higher sphere. Then followed a rapid succession of pyrotechnic struggles, in which was tried every sort of device and movement, save that of falling, known to a horse, to free himself from his burden. Such mighty wrath; such desperate and frenzied exertions; such shakings and strikings and kickings and rearings and plungings, and at last such runnings away, had not been seen since the days of Bucephalus. But during it all Aleph sat as if a part of the animal, with no strain whatever on the rein, merely watchfully accommodating himself to the various movements of which he seemed to have some secret intelligence in advance: and when the running began he only used the rein to guide it according to the round of the arena.This was no easy matter—the speed was so great and the round so small. Whether he would be able to prevent the headlong courser from dashing through the seats occupied by the Museum was so doubtful to those in the front seats that they instinctively made a great outcry and flourish of canes at the flying centaur. This added, if possible, new wings to the flight: but Aleph so skillfully combined the use of the rein with limb-pressure and flexions that the round was safely made three times. The quadruped hurricane then stopped of his own accord at the starting point—all in a tremble and covered with foam.
Aleph sprang from his back, caught up a large cloth that lay near, gently wiped off the sweat from the trembling animal, patted and stroked and soothed him with hand and voice till he ceased to tremble.
Then taking his stand a little in front, he beckoned and called. The horse instantly walked up to him. He laid his hand on the mane, both hands; they grew heavier and heavier, and still the animal stood motionless. A moment more and Aleph was again mounted and pacing slowly around the course. Arrived at the starting point, he again dismounted, tightened the band that confined the riding cloth, and then in a very leisurely way resumed his seat.
“Now, friend Parthia, shall we trot?” A gentle shake of the rein and Parthia trotted around the course with a free and stately action.
“Now, friend Parthia, shall we see what you can do in the way of the ornamental?” By this time the steed had recovered his strength and spirit; and in perfect obedience to rein and foot he curveted and pranced andcaracoled about the arena after a most wonderful fashion. But the greatest wonder was not the horse, but the horseman. Such unaffected simplicity, ease, and repose of manner! With what grace and even majesty he carried himself! As he went his last round with the sunshine on his royal face and the steed stepping as proudly under him as if he knew that he carried a royal burden—ah,sucha shout went up from Serapeum and Museum both! Aleph happened to look up and lo, on one side of the arena, high up in the Serapeum, latticed windows were all open and bright faces and forms were leaning out waving snowy veils. The ladies of Alexandria, relying on the absorption of the students, and perhaps forgetting themselves in the intense interest of the scene, had gradually pushed the lattice aside for the sake of a better view: and when Aleph looked up and saw them he saw also a bouquet of flowers in the air, and a fair hand that had just parted with it, and a glorious face that he knew behind the hand. The horse sprang to meet the descending token; and as Aleph caught it in his hand, he, as gallant knights should always do, bowed low, even to the horse’s mane.
“Who owns this animal, thou villain?” exclaimed Cornelius, with some fire in his voice and more in his eyes, to the trainer.
The man tapped the ground uneasily with his whip, and was silent.
Turning to the students, Cornelius cried, “Whoever was the owner of this horse when he came here has forfeited his claim. Let us declare it forfeited to the University, and present the animal to Aleph, the Chaldean, to be kept at our expense; and if the original owner daresto claim him let us prosecute the wretch before the courts for intent to kill one of us.”
Said Metellus, “I approve of that. It seems to me that it would be a crime against society to reward the man for his crime by replacing a horse worth considerably less than nothing by one worth a thousand gold staters. May I ask what the venerable Seti thinks?”
The venerable Seti thought that under the circumstances the horse had a right to choose his own master—that in fact he had already chosen, and chosen well. He should have free keeping in the stalls of the Serapeum as long as his master should choose.
The students ratified lustily.
In the meantime Aleph had dismounted and stood holding the rein over one arm, while the other was thrown caressingly over the arched neck of the horse. As he gave the rein to a servant of the Serapeum who now presented himself he said:
“I am glad if the Museum regards the trial thus far as satisfactory. But there remains another trial to which they have asked me to submit—that by their teacher of fence. For this I am now ready”—and the flowers which till now he had held in his hand he secured under his girdle.
Then up spake Cornelius again. “I cannot but think that the Museum is thoroughly satisfied already with the justice of our matriculation. And to ask a young man after such exertions as we have seen to pit himself against a fresh man and a famous professional seems to me wonderfully unreasonable. Besides, what has occurred suggests the idea of bad faith somewhere. Of course the Museum does not mean anything of thesort; but in my opinion they are being made tools of by somebody who has a deadly purpose to serve. Unless Draco of Rhodes is a better and fairer man than Beco the Roman, he can be hired to commit a murder.”
“It must be confessed,” said Q. Metellus, who had come forward and was now standing by the side of Cornelius, “that the Museum has made but a sorry show here to-day, either as a tool or worse; and I should not much blame P. Cornelius if he had taken a worse view of us than he does. We have had a most instructive time, but no thanks to the Museum for it. We were trapped into it. For my part I disclaim all fellowship with Beco and his proceedings; and if I could think it possible that another such scoundrel could be found attached to the Museum I should be tempted to forsake it for cleaner quarters. If I should wish the examination to proceed further it would be solely for the purpose of vindicating our good name and showing that Beco is the only devil among us.”
On this arose another young man among the benches of the Museum who commended in a general sort of way the remarks of Metellus; but then said that the Museum had formally taken the ground that it was not proper to take any accomplishment for granted, saving as the higher includes the lower. It would not only be inconsistent but an unfortunate precedent should they leave the testing incomplete. To be sure, the young man who calls himself Aleph the Chaldean has borne himself well thus far; still he might wholly fail under the remaining test. Certainly the Museum, however well satisfied at present, would be better satisfied if the whole plan agreed upon should be carried out. He did not anticipateanother Beco in Draco. No doubt Draco would be forbearing with the young man, and would only tax him enough to make a reasonable trial of his skill in the gentlemanly art of fence. For this purpose no dangerous weapons need be used—only the open hands. As the candidate did not seem to be at all worn by what he had done, let him have a chance to win new laurels from Draco of Rhodes.
Some of the Museum applauded.
“But Euphemes of Corinth should consider,” began P. Cornelius; but Aleph laid his hand on his arm and said, “Excuse me, my friend.”
Then turning toward the Museum, he added in a voice that had in it a touch of humor as well as several touches of decision, “I beg that the Museum may be gratified by the complete carrying out of the plan they have proposed. I do not ask for exceptions in my favor, either from my fellow students or from your teacher of fence. Let him do his best—provided he deal fairly and honorably.”
This settled the matter, though Cornelius and some others, especially of the Serapeum, looked and muttered discontent. “It is too bad. Talk of fairness and honor in connection with such a desperado as Draco! Depend upon it there is some wickedness in the wind. When such a fellow comes to the front the gods retire.”
And hewasa formidable figure to look at, as he presented himself in the arena. A man of unusual stature and weight, with prodigious muscular development about the arms and chest, but without obesity and with every appearance of activity as well as of strength. His face was the worst part of him—shaggy, coarse, hard, cruel,with protuberant blood-shot eyes out of which looked all the passions save fear and pity—the whole made more repulsive by a large swelling on one cheek which Aleph well understood.
To this forbidding figure Aleph walked down (followed at a little distance by Cornelius and Metellus) and stood before him with folded arms and investigating eyes.
Draco proceeded to pass his hands across the shoulders and chest of the young man; felt of his arms; took their length; inspected his hands; stood off a little distance to observe the limbs and general build.
“Very well to begin upon. I think I could make something of you. Not quite enough like Mars, however.” Then, taking the attitude of a boxer, he said, “Now deliver some blows at me with your open hand.”
Aleph made certain strokes which were more remarkable for the freedom and grace with which they were delivered than for anything else, and which Draco found no difficulty in parrying. None of them were aimed at the face; but once the low stroke was so struck up by Draco in the parrying that the hand touched the swollen cheek. Draco’s eyes flashed.
In this preliminary bout it became evident to Aleph, from the force and direction of the parrying, that Draco was aiming to disable as well as to parry. His wards were strokes—his defense an attack.
“Now take your turn at parry,” said Draco with a subtle menace lurking in both eye and voice.
Aleph saw that the time had come when he would need all his watchfulness. He erected himself to a fuller stature. His feet and limbs set themselves into new firmness. His eye took on new openness and intensitywithout losing anything of its characteristic repose. He had hardly made this instinctive preparation before the blows began to come—at first with some show of tentativeness and moderation, but, as they were warded off, they returned with ever increasing heat and force, and gradually came to be aimed exclusively at the head. Now it was the mouth, now the eye, now the temple. He seemed bent on at least marring the manly beauty before him, and which contrasted so strangely with his own coarse and brutal features. Gradually the open palm became the knotted fist. Gradually the knotted fist came as fast and fiercely as the whole passionate force of the man could wield it.
Through the whole of this impetuous hail storm, Aleph kept strictly on the defensive. His whole work was parrying. Was not this in the bond? Of course his hands were full of occupation—his feet also when Draco began to shift positions and at length attacked him on whatever side and from whatever direction he could. Aleph hardly had time to wonder at the headlong ferocity of the storm that was discharging itself upon him.
“Stop!” cried Cornelius. “This is fighting, not examining.Stop!I say—this is intolerable.”
But Draco paid no attention. The glare of a tiger was in his eyes. His face was that of a fiend.
“Shall I quit the defensive?” inquired Aleph in a low voice to Cornelius and Metellus—as he gained a moment’s respite by a spring to one side.
“Do so!” they both exclaimed. “He means to kill you.”
Then was a sight worth seeing. Then the youth fairly awoke. Then his whole frame began to work withthe supreme grace and force of some mighty machine. It was Apollo turned to Mars, or rather to Jupiter Tonans himself—so wonderfully sovereign and commanding became his aspect. And perhaps the most impressive thing about it was the mysterious repose and utter self-possession that sat on thrones in every feature.
Compared with his movements now, all his former ones were mere pastime. It was sublime to see such a face, such a figure, such a blending of all the poetries of expression and motion. He still parried, but every parry was followed by a blow delivered. Swifter and stronger flew that young hand. He, too, could be swift and mighty—he, too, could press, now on this side and now on that, and again, seemingly, on all sides at once. And yet his breathing was unhurried—there seemed in him endless reserves of strength and battle.
“Immortal gods! how he handles himself,” exclaimed young men as they stood on their benches and watched breathlessly.
Almost as soon as the defensive became the aggressive, a severe stroke on his swollen cheek warned Draco that he must begin to look to self-preservation. He could no longer give his whole attention to assault. He became vividly sensible of the great change that had taken place in the aspect and bearing of his antagonist. He saw how cool and collected he was—how perfectly master of himself. The sight angered him, made him furious. He would have given his life for one fair demolishing stroke on the young man on whom as yet he had not been able to fasten a single bruise. But scant time had he now for even such flashes of thinking. He had all he could do to ward off the blows that came somightily and swiftly, and yet with a certain deliberate terribleness and ease that seemed to say that such could be delivered forever. Soon another blow passed his ward and reached the cheek hitherto untouched. But it was with the palm of the hand. Was Aleph affecting to be forbearing and merciful to him who had never given mercy nor needed it? Was he, like some perverse boy, being cuffed into good behavior? The thought was intolerable. That a youngster of a score of summers should be sparing him—conquering him with even something less than his utmost, was agony. And yet that was what everybody could now see was bound to happen. It was plain to see that Draco was waning and that Aleph was waxing. The sweat was dropping freely from the face of the one; the brow of the other was not perceptibly moist. Spectators could see that the young man often voluntarily neglected advantages that the passion and precipitation of his adversary gave him, and was seeking to close the contest with as little damage and mortification to him as possible. After one of these plain forbearances he said to Draco in a low voice:
“Need this go on? Say that you are satisfied with the examination and we will stop just here. You have for some time been in my power.”
For answer the infuriated man leaped at him with the expression of a fiend, and tried to throw his arms about him and bear him to the ground. So sudden and violent was the movement that Aleph eluded it with some difficulty; but he did it, and, in passing, dealt the ill-balanced man a blow that felled him to the ground. He lay motionless.
“He is not injured—only stunned,” said Aleph toCornelius and Metellus as they came up. They looked at the speaker and wondered. Not a blow appeared to have reached him. There was no visible disarrangement of his dress even. The flowers at his girdle were still in place. And the supremely cool and masterful look that had presided through the whole contest was still sitting in full glory on its throne.
The issue had been anticipated by the students for some time; but their breathless interest in watching the conflict had kept them from any general vocal expression. But now there wassuchan uproar—such a waving of canes and caps, such stamping and clapping and lung-rending huzzaing as a thousand frenzied young men could make, and such as the old Serapeum had not known for many a day, if ever. Did Seti make any effort to suppress or moderate? Not he. Some even go so far as to say that he was seen unconsciously keeping time to the uproar with his foot. Others say (and I am disposed to think they are right) that he sat as motionless as the statue of Memnon, sat as if in a dream, till the tumult had somewhat subsided. Then he held up his hand. Silence at once reigned.
“Young men of the Museum! I cannot think that any considerable number of you have been knowingly concerned in this conspiracy. Were it otherwise it would be to the eternal disgrace of the University, and especially of your part of it. I prefer to think, anddothink, that you have been victims. You could not have supposed that it was intended to assail the very life of a young man under pretense of testing his athletic accomplishments. You have been misled and deceived by somebody. I leave you to find out who inspired and contrived this wholething. It is necessary for your good name. And I shall not wonder if you decline henceforth to have anything to do with these two professional trainers who have allowed themselves to be used for murderous purposes.
“Perhaps some, if not all, of you have thought it strange that I did not interfere to break off this contest when its true character became plain. I was on the point of doing so several times: but as I looked at the young man I seemed to see in his whole bearing such abundant promise of a successful issue that I felt it would be a wrong to all of you young men to keep from you an inspiring example, and a wrong to him to keep him from the honor to which he is so justly entitled.”
“The venerable Seti is right,” cried Metellus. “We of the Museum are no better than we should be; but we are not sunk so low as to take part in a plot against the life or limb of a stranger who has done us no harm—much less against a member of our own University. We have been imposed upon. We supposed that nothing but a reasonable and safe testing was intended: we even supposed that less danger would attend it under our trainers than would naturally belong to an emulative contest between students.
“It would be a farce for me,” he continued, “to ask the Museum to vote as to whether the examination of the candidate has been satisfactory. There is not one of us but would throw his cap to the moon in token of approval. Of course we adopt the hero into the Museum by a thunder of silent acclamation. We have seen something to-day to tell to the old folks at home—something to tell to our children,” he added smiling. And then with a graver face and a graver tone he went on, “Andsomehow I feel as if I should go away from this place a truer and worthier man for what we have seen to-day. I had heard of magnanimity before; to-day I have seen it. And I like it. Heroism is good, but heroism with righteousness is better. I see that it is possible to come down on a great deed, which is even better than rising to meet it.
“But though the Museum does not need to vote approval of Aleph the Chaldean (what a ridiculous thing it would be!), I think we owe it to ourselves to act on the suggestion of the venerable Seti; to express formally our condemnation of these villains (the one lying here where he ought to lie, and the other standing yonder dangling a whip which ought to make many a weal across his own back) and their prompters, whoever they may be. Have we any further need of the services of trainers who are themselves trained by the infernals? I think not. Those agreeing with me will stretch out their hands.”
As far as Metellus could see, every right hand was lifted.
What congratulations were showered on Aleph, how cordial and admiring both Serapeum and Museum seemed, how profuse the latter were in their disclaimers and apologies and promises to unearth the whole plot, and how modestly Aleph carried himself under it all, I will not attempt to set down in detail.
“Come with me,” said Seti to our friends, as the students broke up, “and I will show you your new quarters.” On the way they told him of their arrangement to meet Malus at the khan in the evening, but promised to return immediately after to the Serapeum. At the door of their apartments a servant met them and said tothe priest that his granddaughter was in her sedan at the gate and wished to see him. Would he come at once? She was looking very pale and ill. Seti at once threw open the door, bade them enter and be at home, and hastened after the servant.
He did not appear again that day. Very likely he went home with Rachel. And very likely Aleph would have followed in the course of the afternoon, had not Cimon happened to mention that he overheard a student saying that news had just come that the emperor had asked the daughter of the Alabarch in marriage for his nephew and heir Germanicus, and that the visit of the Alabarch to Rome had reference to this overture. “Perhaps,” added Cimon, “this is what has disturbed her.”
“She would never marry a pagan,” said Aleph decidedly.
“Perhaps Germanicus is such a pagan as her grandfather,” returned Cimon. “He is said to be a very promising young man, and the son of excellent parents; and no doubt the Jewish elders will be greatly in favor of an alliance that promises to secure and advance their interests so greatly. They will remember Queen Esther.”
Aleph made no answer—unless the silent one of drawing out the knot of flowers from his girdle and setting them carefully with water in a vase which he had discovered in the room. Butwasthis an answer? If so, it certainly was not a very clear one. Did it sayNoto Cimon? Did it say that his suggestions were not as weighty as they might be? Did it merely say that the rare and lovely flowers were worth preserving for a day or two on their own account—whether they came from a future empress of Rome or not? Or did theheartof the youngman really speak in the act without consulting his judgment—as hearts sometimes do? I am at a loss. Such Delphic conduct is very embarrassing. Why will people put interpreters to so much trouble? If I had been Aleph I would have—but no matter what I would have done. What does the public care?