Aleph, the Chaldean; or, the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria

by E. F. Burr

“And what does all this mean?” thought our friends. “Does it mean honor to us as the guests of the house or to make us easier marks for the archer?”

Without stopping to answer such questions they unlocked their door; and, entering, held their usual evening devotions with no appearance of distraction or hurry. When they came out, staff in hand, and took seats on the bench before the door, they found that the shadows had considerably deepened, and the signs of activity within the curtained stage had considerably increased. As yet no spectators had been admitted.

Soon, however, people began to enter the court: then, after a while, the piazza began to be occupied. Our friends watched narrowly every successive arrival as long as the deepening shadows allowed; but it soon became impossible to form any idea of faces and figures. But they were very many—so many at last that there seemed to be no more standing room in the court, nor sitting room under the piazza. The seats nearest them, on the right and left, somehow came to be occupied last, and though Aleph bent specially on them his young searching eyes, the light had become too dim to be of service. He then noticed for the first time that the lamp before him had protruding sides that fended off the rays to the right and left. Himself and companion would have the sole benefit of the illumination. Would it be a benefit?

A bell tinkled. Up went the stage curtains. In the midst of a blaze of light stood a man of unusual stature. His beard was long and black, and long black locks hung below the close-fitting black cap. A long black mantle covered with geometrical and other figures hung gracefully from his shoulders. Supreme confidence in his own powers and position breathed in his whole attitude and expression. His air was that of an acknowledged sage. He stood motionless for a few moments as if to allow the people a full opportunity to see what a dignified and promising person was before them. He then turned quietly and took a cool survey of the packed court and of the piazza beyond as if to acquaint himself with the situation—to see how many persons and what sort of persons made up his audience. His survey ended with his confronting Cimon and Aleph for a moment.

A little back of this remarkable figure stood another scarcely less noticeable—a beautiful woman richly, though scantily, dressed, in the Greek fashion. Behind her, at the two corners of the platform, stood two Nubians, black as midnight, who could scarcely be said to be dressed at all. Between these latter stood a table on which was a seething cauldron over a brazier of live coals—also a large shallow dish. Two stools and a number of tools were under the table.

Simon turned and bowed low to Helena—for that was the Aspasia-like woman near him. Then, turning to the people:

“I always make it a point,” said he, “to begin with acknowledging my obligations to my sister, to whom I am indebted for much of my success.”

He then added, “I wish it to be distinctly understood at the outset that a part of what I shall do this evening is only skillful illusion; another part will be done simply by means of my acquaintance with the more mysterious laws and forces of Nature; a third part will be done by the help of powerful spirits whom I have subjected, to a certain extent, by my art, but who do not belong to that class of spirits with whom intercourse is forbidden.”

He at once began to draw a ribbon from his mouth. He drew and drew—apparently there was no end to the stock of ribbons within him. At last, with a gesture of impatience, he broke off the endless thing at his lips, and gulped down the remainder. He then went to the brazier of glowing coals and proceeded to eat them as so much fruit—to eat with excellent appetite.

Suddenly turning from this feast, he took up the large dish on the table and poured out from it a quantity of sand on the platform. He completely reversed the dish and shook it. He then replaced the sand, inserted in it a small seed, spread his two hands over the dish, and waited for what might happen. What happened was a little olive tree—as everybody could see as soon as Simon had removed his hands and held up the dish for general view. He then set down the dish on the floor, covered it for a moment with a corner of his mantle, and then held it up to view again. Lo, the little olive of a few inches had doubled its size. Once more he covered it from view. On removing his robe, he showed to the people a plant so large that its roots had crowded out all the sand from the vessel and protruded from it on all sides. Using another corner of the mantle, he reversed the process. The great plant dwindled by successive stages into the original seed which was held up for the people to see.