Читать книгу Aleph, the Chaldean; or, the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria - E. F. Burr - Страница 5

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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.