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

by E. F. Burr

Before the man could recover himself, Alexander interfered: “This lady is my daughter; and as for these men, they are of our faith, and as co-religionists are entitled to our immunities.”

“And if it were not so,” said Aleph, “it may be well for this man to know that under no conceivable circumstances would we pay religious worship to the emperor, though quite ready to pay the magistrates all due observance.”

“We will see,” cried the Roman in a transport of fury, as he rushed on the young man with his drawn sword. “Down on your knees to the standard this instant, you renegade, or by Jupiter, I will put you on your knees for the rest of your life,” and he struck at his knees.

Aleph caught the blow with his cane. Whereupon the officer lost all self-restraint and made a rapid succession of strokes and thrusts that sought life. But Aleph had evidently learned the art of fence: his cane was as good as a shield and met the sword at every point. At last, after a desperate lunge, the sword went flying aloft; and both Cimon and Aleph had seized its master.

“Expel Them!” shouted Alexander to the crowd of Jews that was now surging and roaring like a maddened sea, “Expel them with your canes and your hands! They have forced an entrance into our sanctuary, they have profaned it with an idol, and now they have sought to stain it with the blood of unarmed men. Expel them, I say!”

The mob needed no spur. They threw themselves on the soldiers, already cowed by what had passed, and in a moment were dragging them, disarmed and unresisting, behind Cimon and Aleph with their prisoner. Had it not been for the example of coolness and forbearance set by our friends and an occasional moderating word from them, the people might have torn their prisoners limb from limb. As it was, the soldiers had no gentle handling. They had little armor left on them when they reached the great doors. They had gotten many an accidental elbowing and tripping. Somehow people had stumbled heavily and found it hard to recover themselves. There were few parts of those Roman bodies which had not become intimately acquainted with both the point and broadside of a cane. Their captain suffered least—in fact, suffered nothing beyond the shame and uneasiness of being held fast in iron hands.

When those hands were taken off, just outside the great door, he suddenly drew a knife from a fold in his sash and made a pass at Aleph. But both friends were vigilant; and Cimon, while beating off the knife with one hand, with the other dealt the rascal such a blow on the head that his helmet flew off and went clattering down the steps into the street. He followed staggering. The people behind, seeing only the cuff and the result, cheered, and very cheerfully followed the example supposed to be set them. Each soldier received such a hearty cuff and push as he went down the steps as made his descent little less than a fall.

Once down, they were not allowed to linger. The blood of the people was up; and they followed the soldiers in their precipitate flight a long distance with menacing cries and gestures, and with such missiles as they happened to find in the street.

Meanwhile the friends had been called within the synagogue by Alexander, and the great doors fastened. What consultations took place it is not necessary to record. There were consultations; and that too of a very political and secular sort. The situation of the Jews was always delicate. There was much reason to fear that the morning’s disturbance would seriously embroil them with the authorities at both Alexandria and Rome. What should be done? If any one has light let him speak out at once—though it be Sabbath.

But none had scruples. The ideas of the Alexandrian Jews of the first century were not exactly like those of some of their ancestors in the time of the Maccabees who refused to defend themselves against their enemies on the Sabbath because self-defense was work, and that too of the severest sort. The children had become wiser if not better. They had come to believe that self-preservation is a work of necessity, not to say of mercy; and were ready to fight the idolaters seven days in the week if necessary for even a less matter than self-preservation—as we have seen. They would not consent to be martyrs till they had tried hard to be victors. They would not be idolaters, and they did not want to be rebels. They wanted to preserve their religion, and also wanted to preserve themselves. Was it possible? Let us see, said the Seventy, as they resumed their gilded chairs. So the men who did not hesitate to fight a battle on the Sabbath did not scruple to consult on that day how to prevent the battle from souring into a defeat. Were they wrong in this?