by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER VII
Let us take our stand by the gate, just out of the edge of thecurrents--one flowing in, the other out--and use our eyes andears awhile.
In good time! Here come two men of a most noteworthy class.
"Gods! How cold it is!" says one of them, a powerful figure in armor;on his head a brazen helmet, on his body a shining breastplate andskirts of mail. "How cold it is! Dost thou remember, my Caius,that vault in the Comitium at home which the flamens say is theentrance to the lower world? By Pluto! I could stand there thismorning, long enough at least to get warm again!"
The party addressed drops the hood of his military cloak, leavingbare his head and face, and replies, with an ironic smile, "Thehelmets of the legions which conquered Mark Antony were full ofGallic snow; but thou--ah, my poor friend!--thou hast just comefrom Egypt, bringing its summer in thy blood."
And with the last word they disappear through the entrance.Though they had been silent, the armor and the sturdy stepwould have published them Roman soldiers.
From the throng a Jew comes next, meager of frame, round-shouldered,and wearing a coarse brown robe; over his eyes and face, and downhis back, hangs a mat of long, uncombed hair. He is alone. Those whomeet him laugh, if they do not worse; for he is a Nazarite, one ofa despised sect which rejects the books of Moses, devotes itself toabhorred vows, and goes unshorn while the vows endure.
As we watch his retiring figure, suddenly there is a commotion inthe crowd, a parting quickly to the right and left, with exclamationssharp and decisive. Then the cause comes--a man, Hebrew in featureand dress. The mantle of snow-white linen, held to his head bycords of yellow silk, flows free over his shoulders; his robeis richly embroidered, a red sash with fringes of gold wraps hiswaist several times. His demeanor is calm; he even smiles uponthose who, with such rude haste, make room for him. A leper? No,he is only a Samaritan. The shrinking crowd, if asked, would sayhe is a mongrel--an Assyrian--whose touch of the robe is pollution;from whom, consequently, an Israelite, though dying, might notaccept life. In fact, the feud is not of blood. When David sethis throne here on Mount Zion, with only Judah to support him,the ten tribes betook themselves to Shechem, a city much older,and, at that date, infinitely richer in holy memories. The finalunion of the tribes did not settle the dispute thus begun.The Samaritans clung to their tabernacle on Gerizim, and,while maintaining its superior sanctity, laughed at the iratedoctors in Jerusalem. Time brought no assuagement of the hate.Under Herod, conversion to the faith was open to all the worldexcept the Samaritans; they alone were absolutely and forevershut out from communion with Jews.
As the Samaritan goes in under the arch of the gate, out come threemen so unlike all whom we have yet seen that they fix our gaze,whether we will or not. They are of unusual stature and immensebrawn; their eyes are blue, and so fair is their complexion thatthe blood shines through the skin like blue pencilling; their hair islight and short; their heads, small and round, rest squarely upon neckscolumnar as the trunks of trees. Woollen tunics, open at the breast,sleeveless and loosely girt, drape their bodies, leaving bare armsand legs of such development that they at once suggest the arena;and when thereto we add their careless, confident, insolent manner,we cease to wonder that the people give them way, and stop after theyhave passed to look at them again. They are gladiators--wrestlers,runners, boxers, swordsmen; professionals unknown in Judea beforethe coming of the Roman; fellows who, what time they are notin training, may be seen strolling through the king's gardensor sitting with the guards at the palace gates; or possibly theyare visitors from Caesarea, Sebaste, or Jericho; in which Herod,more Greek than Jew, and with all a Roman's love of games andbloody spectacles, has built vast theaters, and now keeps schoolsof fighting-men, drawn, as is the custom, from the Gallic provincesor the Slavic tribes on the Danube.
"By Bacchus!" says one of them, drawing his clenched hand tohis shoulder, "their skulls are not thicker than eggshells."
The brutal look which goes with the gesture disgusts us, and weturn happily to something more pleasant.
Opposite us is a fruit-stand. The proprietor has a bald head,a long face, and a nose like the beak of a hawk. He sitsupon a carpet spread upon the dust; the wall is at his back;overhead hangs a scant curtain, around him, within hand's reachand arranged upon little stools, lie osier boxes full of almonds,grapes, figs, and pomegranates. To him now comes one at whom wecannot help looking, though for another reason than that whichfixed our eyes upon the gladiators; he is really beautiful--abeautiful Greek. Around his temples, holding the waving hair,is a crown of myrtle, to which still cling the pale flowers andhalf ripe berries. His tunic, scarlet in color, is of the softestwoollen fabric; below the girdle of buff leather, which is claspedin front by a fantastic device of shining gold, the skirt drops tothe knee in folds heavy with embroidery of the same royal metal;a scarf, also woollen, and of mixed white and yellow, crosseshis throat and falls trailing at his back; his arms and legs,where exposed, are white as ivory, and of the polish impossibleexcept by perfect treatment with bath, oil, brushes, and pincers.
The dealer, keeping his seat, bends forward, and throws his handsup until they meet in front of him, palm downwards and fingersextended.
"What hast thou, this morning, O son of Paphos?" says the youngGreek, looking at the boxes rather than at the Cypriote. "I amhungry. What hast thou for breakfast?"
"Fruits from the Pedius--genuine--such as the singers of Antiochtake of mornings to restore the waste of their voices," the dealeranswers, in a querulous nasal tone.
"A fig, but not one of thy best, for the singers of Antioch!" saysthe Greek. "Thou art a worshiper of Aphrodite, and so am I, as themyrtle I wear proves; therefore I tell thee their voices have thechill of a Caspian wind. Seest thou this girdle?--a gift of themighty Salome--"
"The king's sister!" exclaims the Cypriote, with another salaam.
"And of royal taste and divine judgment. And why not? She is moreGreek than the king. But--my breakfast! Here is thy money--redcoppers of Cyprus. Give me grapes, and--"
"Wilt thou not take the dates also?"
"No, I am not an Arab."
"Nor figs?"
"That would be to make me a Jew. No, nothing but the grapes.Never waters mixed so sweetly as the blood of the Greek andthe blood of the grape."
The singer in the grimed and seething market, with all his airsof the court, is a vision not easily shut out of mind by suchas see him; as if for the purpose, however, a person followshim challenging all our wonder. He comes up the road slowly,his face towards the ground; at intervals he stops, crosses hishands upon his breast, lengthens his countenance, and turns hiseyes towards heaven, as if about to break into prayer. Nowhere,except in Jerusalem, can such a character be found. On his forehead,attached to the band which keeps the mantle in place, projects aleathern case, square in form; another similar case is tied bya thong to the left arm; the borders of his robe are decoratedwith deep fringe; and by such signs--the phylacteries, the enlargedborders of the garment, and the savor of intense holiness pervadingthe whole man--we know him to be a Pharisee, one of an organization(in religion a sect, in politics a party) whose bigotry and powerwill shortly bring the world to grief.
The densest of the throng outside the gate covers the road leadingoff to Joppa. Turning from the Pharisee, we are attracted by someparties who, as subjects of study, opportunely separate themselves fromthe motley crowd. First among them a man of very noble appearance--clear,healthful complexion; bright black eyes; beard long and flowing, and richwith unguents; apparel well-fitting, costly, and suitable for the season.He carries a staff, and wears, suspended by a cord from his neck, a largegolden seal. Several servants attend him, some of them with short swordsstuck through their sashes; when they address him, it is with theutmost deference. The rest of the party consists of two Arabs ofthe pure desert stock; thin, wiry men, deeply bronzed, and withhollow cheeks, and eyes of almost evil brightness; on their headsred tarbooshes; over their abas, and wrapping the left
shoulderand the body so as to leave the right arm free, brown woollenhaicks, or blankets. There is loud chaffering, for the Arabs areleading horses and trying to sell them; and, in their eagerness,they speak in high, shrill voices. The courtly person leaves thetalking mostly to his servants; occasionally he answers withmuch dignity; directly, seeing the Cypriote, he stops and buyssome figs. And when the whole party has passed the portal, closeafter the Pharisee, if we betake ourselves to the dealer in fruits,he will tell, with a wonderful salaam, that the stranger is a Jew,one of the princes of the city, who has travelled, and learned thedifference between the common grapes of Syria and those of Cyprus,so surpassingly rich with the dews of the sea.
And so, till towards noon, sometimes later, the steady currents ofbusiness habitually flow in and out of the Joppa Gate, carrying withthem every variety of character; including representatives of allthe tribes of Israel, all the sects among whom the ancient faithhas been parcelled and refined away, all the religious and socialdivisions, all the adventurous rabble who, as children of art andministers of pleasure, riot in the prodigalities of Herod, and allthe peoples of note at any time compassed by the Caesars and theirpredecessors, especially those dwelling within the circuit of theMediterranean.
In other words, Jerusalem, rich in sacred history, richer inconnection with sacred prophecies--the Jerusalem of Solomon,in which silver was as stones, and cedars as the sycamores ofthe vale--had come to be but a copy of Rome, a center of unholypractises, a seat of pagan power. A Jewish king one day put onpriestly garments, and went into the Holy of Holies of the firsttemple to offer incense, and he came out a leper; but in the timeof which we are reading, Pompey entered Herod's temple and thesame Holy of Holies, and came out without harm, finding but anempty chamber, and of God not a sign.
