 | I. Julian, or Scenes in Judea |  |
1. I.
I thus addressed my mother, soon after
reaching Cæsarea:
You who know your son so well will not
doubt that I took my departure from Antioch
with pain. Nowhere since I passed the gates
of Rome have I been entertained with such
magnificence. Nowhere have the hours proved
themselves so short-lived. After the dulness of
Athens, and the worse than dulness of Smyrna,
Ephesus, and Rhodes, it was refreshing to witness
the noise and stir of the mistress of the
East. So frequent were the theatres, baths,
and porticos, the shows, the games, the combats
of wild beasts, that I felt myself almost in the
Elysium of my own Rome. What added, too,
as you will believe, to my happiness, was this,
that I passed everywhere for a Roman of undoubted
Roman blood; or, at least, if my descent
were seen, with a civility which seems native
to these orientals, the knowledge of it was
not betrayed by a word or look. I perceive
you to smile at this, as also to utter a few
unworthy scion of an ancient house. The contempt
from you I can bear; but the smile
by which you seem to enjoy what you are
pleased to term my credulity, I must say and
believe is wasted. For, more than once have I
been assured by some of my own tribe that,
but for a something in my eye, they should not
suspect me to be other than a Roman. Neither,
my mother, was this flattery; it was from some
incapable of that meanest vice; from my real
friends. But whoever were so blind as to take
me for a Roman, you may be assured I was not
careful to undeceive them. I enjoyed the perfect
felicity while I might. And the dream
was undisturbed during the whole of my sojourn
there, except in a single instance, when
once as I was walking in front of the baths of
Tiberius, I saw approaching from an opposite
point the lordly Drusus, who, as I gave signs of
saluting him, turned his face in another direction,
and swept along without recognising me.
What think you of that? at this distance I can
see your color change. But if you even feel
the insult, who live so shut out from the great
world, how much more must I who am in it.
I think your censure is too sharp upon me, when
at such moments I, somewhat hastily perhaps,
wish the twelve tribes had found the fate of
and curses, hatred and oppression, are they born
who come of their lineage. Willingly would I
renounce all the wisdom I have ever found in
Moses and the prophets, for a little of that equal
honor in the eyes of men, which more methinks
than questions of philosophy or religion concerns
a man's well-being. My eye is not far
reaching enough to discern a single advantage
in the position the Jew fills in this great theatre
of life. He cherishes in his soul his faith,
which he holds to be nobler and purer than that
of Pythagoras or Cicero. But however much
nobler and purer in his own eye, when did
other than a Jew so esteem it? Who ever has
heard of Romans, Greeks, or Egyptians becoming
Jews, and receiving — save in numbers most
inconsiderable — the Jewish faith? Yet is it
likely that through so many ages a religion
given of God should have remained in the
world, and not have convinced men of its
divinity? I, alas, have not even a conviction
of its truth to sustain me under this burden of
contempt and reproach. I am a Jew outwardly,
carrying the signs of my descent and origin in
my face and form, branded in by the Hand
that made me, and by the hand that reared
me, and this I cannot help. But with readiness
would I lose one half my limbs, if
ignominy were fairly erased. You say that in
Rome I mix freely with the Roman youth, that
I sit at their tables and they at mine, that I
join them at the games, and in every amusement
of our city life. It is true; yet still I am
a Jew. I am beloved of many because I am
Julian; yet by the very same am I abhorred
because I am a Jew. The Roman beggar who
takes my gold, — for gold is gold, — begs pardon
of the gods, and as he turns the corner
scours the coin upon the sand. Yet, my mother, I
see not why one people should thus proscribe
another; nor do I look upon the wrong but
with indignation. You justly accuse me with
indifference to the religion of my fathers. But
I have never beheld with patience the slights,
insults, and oppressions which, by the stronger,
have been heaped upon the weaker; nor, truly,
when I reflect, can I see why the worship of a
people should be charged upon them as a crime.
It is these injuries which have roused within
me, at times, the Jew — however for the most
part in my search after pleasure, I have been
too ready to forget all but what ministered directly
to that end. If thou art filled with wonder
at so serious a vein in me, I will soon give
thee the reasons thereof; but let me first speak
of my passage hither, and of that which happened
immediately on my arrival.
I left Antioch, as I have said, with regret.
At the mouth of the Orontes I embarked in a
trader, bound to Cæsarea, and then to Joppa
and Alexandria. We at first were driven out
to sea by an east wind, and ran quite along the
shores of Cyprus; but this soon subsiding, we
crossed over again to the Syrian coast, and were
afterwards enabled to keep our vessel so near, —
the breezes being gentle and from a safe quarter,
— that I enjoyed a continued prospect of the
country, with as much distinctness and satisfaction,
methinks, as if I had been travelling by
land; at least with distinctness enough, for every
pleasure of this sort is increased by a certain degree
of obscurity and dimness. Painters understand
this, and over their works throw a sort of
haze by some mysterious process of their divine
art, which imparts to them their principal charm.
No prospect and no picture is beautiful which is
clear and sharp as if cut in metal. Truth itself
is to me improved by a veil of this same mistiness
thrown around it. But if any fault is to
be found with this Syrian atmosphere, it is that
of this all-involving dimness there is something
too much, to that degree, indeed, that the
eye is often cheated of the distant features of
the landscape, — the mountains which, drawn
upon the chart defore us, we know to be not
far distant, not too far for the eye to reach with
of partition. Happily, as we drew near the
port of Berytus, beyond which lay the mountains
of the Libanus and Anti-Libanus, there
was not so much of the quality of which I
speak in the air, as to deprive us of a view
of their summits, crowned with their snowy
caps, filling the whole eastern horizon. It
was a magnificent mountain scene, a fitting
vestibule, you will say, my mother, through
which to enter the holy land of Moses and
Abraham. It was, I am obliged to confess,
with emotions such as I had never experienced
before, that I found myself now for the first
time gazing upon the shores of this wonderful
people, the home of my fathers. It was beautiful
to the eye, as we skirted the coast, as one
long continued garden. The rich agriculture
of the husbandman was pushed out to the very
sands of the sea-beach, and every cape, and
promontory, and lofty peak, showed, sparkling
in the sun, the white walls of a village or some
insulated dwelling, proving how thickly peopled
must be the country, which could spare its
inhabitants for the cultivation of spots naturally
barren and inhospitable, but now by the hand
of industry changed to a soil not less fertile
than that of Italy. I could not but wish that,
if it were decreed I must be a Jew, I had
and in truth, that it had pleased heaven to
have retained my parents on their native soil,
seeing that there, among our own hills and
plains, we could not but have been a people
more respected than we now are, or ever can be,
wandering over the earth, forcing ourselves upon
every nation and every city, unwelcome
guests, — among them but never of them.
We had not long lost sight of the ridges of
Lebanon, when we passed successively those
ancient seats of opulence and renown, Sidon
and Tyre; then doubling a lofty cape, formed
by a part of Mount Carmel shooting into the
sea, a few hours' sail revealed a distant prospect
of Cæsarea. As we drew near, I was astonished
at the magnificence of the port. It is a harbor
of an immense capacity as to vessels of all
kinds and sizes, yet has it been formed wholly
by the hand of art. The shore presents at this
part of the coast an almost even line of sandy
banks running from south to north, with none
of those alternate projections and inlets which
are proper for the security of ships against both
the current of the sea and storms of wind.
Wherefore, at the cost of an immense sum, did
Herod the Great construct this artificial basin,
— larger than the famous one at Athens, —
wherein vessels can ride in perfect safety, protected
southern gales, which in this region are chiefly
to be feared. The water is enclosed by a mole in
the shape of a half moon, which, bending round
from the south, presents its open mouth to the
north, whose gentle winds allow vessels at all
times to obtain an entrance. This mole, wholly
of marble, and of enormous proportions, offers to
the eye on the outer side a continuous range of
edifices, also of marble, which seemed to me
palaces as I approached at a distance, but are
designed for the reception of merchandise;
while on the inner side, for its entire length, it
affords a broad and spacious pavement, where
the ships are lightened of their burdens, and,
lashed to iron rings or pillars, ride securely till
their cargoes for another voyage have been received.
At the entrance of the harbor, and at
the very extremity of the mole, there rises a
lofty tower, upon the summit of which you
behold a Colossus of Asia, while on the opposite
side of the entrance, upon a similar tower
which terminates the shorter arm of the mole,
stands a Colossus of Rome, of the like huge
proportions. Towers of the same height and
size shoot up along the whole length of this
vast wall, intended partly as an additional feature
of magnificence, and partly as a defence
against the assaults of an enemy. From the
vastness seems a lake, — rises by a gradual
ascent the city, the streets which lead from the
water being crossed at regular intervals by others
of the same width, which run in an opposite
direction.
As our vessel, — its decks thronged with passengers,
— floated, driven by a gentle northern
breeze, within the embrace of this spacious
haven, and the crowd of shipping, the long
range of lofty towers, the city with its palaces,
temples, and theatres, all opened at onec
to my view, I thought I had never seen
anything of a more impressive grandeur. I
could with difficulty persuade myself that this
was a city of Judea; that, where I had expected
to behold a barbarous and uncultivated
people, I should thus meet instead, all the
signs of elegance and taste which had marked
the cities of Greece and Syria, or are to
be observed in the chief towns of Italy. I
remembered, indeed, the magnificence and
boundless wealth of Herod, but I do not think,
my mother, that even you yourself are aware
of the greatness of his achievements, not only
here in Cæsarea, but, as I have heard, in many
other of the cities of Judea. From some of my
own nation, who have been fellow-passengers,
and with whom I have enjoyed much pleasant
more of the present condition and recent
history of the country, than I could have obtained
from any sources whatsoever in Rome.
Of these things I shall impart what knowledge
I have gathered at myfuture leisure. Let me,
at present, return to our arrival.
We thus floated into this beautiful harbor,
making our way slowly along amongst vessels
of all nations, which like ourselves were coming
in, or departing, or riding securely at their
anchors. The noise and confusion were scarcely
less than in the Tiber. I enjoyed the scene
greatly, as I do everywhere whatever leads to
uproar and contention. Particularly was I
delighted with the quarrels which arose among
the sailors, when the vessels either could not
easily pass each other, or became entangled,
when it frequently came to blows, and more or
fewer were overset into the water. If they
who were thus thrust overboard did not readily
recover themselves by clinging to the sides of
the vessel, or laying hold upon some rope, the
combatants then ceased till the drowning men
were drawn up again. Yet are many daily lost
in these rude encounters, and I myself saw blows
given and taken, which seemed to me more than
enough to demolish the head on which they
fell. But when the governor of a people is full
can anything better be expected from the very
lowest of the populace! As I stood watching
what was thus going on about me, I was surprised
to find ourselves suddenly brought up
against a vessel, which, from the bellowings
that proceeded from it, I perceived to be crowded
with wild beasts, and indeed the deck was
covered with their cages. As I expressed to
one who stood by me, and with whom I had had
frequent intercourse during the voyage, my
wonder to see such a cargo making its way
into a port of Judea, where the customs and
religion of the people differ so widely from
those of Rome and other heathen cities, he
replied, that they, who knew anything of the
manner in which Judea had been governed by
Herod, and after him by the Ethnarch, would
see, in what had occasioned surprise to me,
nothing but what agreed exactly with the now
altered character of the population. I answered,
that I was obliged to confess great ignorance of
all that related to the Jews, as I was Roman
born, and my reading and studies had lain in a
quite different direction.
At this flourish, which I had hoped should
pass with him, he quickly rejoined, “You may
be Roman born, but, if so, your Hebrew blood
wears well, for the Jew looks out at your eyes
your speech. Never hope to play Roman with
those eyes in your head.”
I was somewhat taken down, as you may
suppose, by this; but I put the best face
upon the matter, and said that I could not
but acknowledge that, although I had been
born in Rome, my parents had removed
thither from the upper part of Judea. My
education had, however, been so completely
Roman, owing to my father's early abandonment
of all outward observance of his faith,
that it was strictly true, as I had stated, that
my ignorance was great of all that related to
the present condition and late history of the
country of my ancestors.
“The more the pity,” replied my companion,
“that a son of Abraham should be found to
deny his country and his ancestry, and make a
boast of what should be his shame, that he
knows nothing of the people from whom he
sprung. It is to such traitors” — and his dark
eye sparkled like a living coal, — “that Judea
owes her slavery and her apostacy, — her
slavery to a foreign yoke, and her apostacy from
the faith and the customs of the early days of
our history. The people are no longer Jews, but
Herodians, Greeks, Romans, anything, — anything
but Jews. Is this a city of Jews we are
it belongs not to the rightful occupants of the
soil. Cæsarea is first Greek, then Roman, last
and least Jewish. But — a word in your ear
— the Jews that are there are of the true stuff.
They are zealous for the law and for liberty.
A little thing would rouse them to the defence
of either or both.”
As he said this, our further conversation was
suddenly interrupted by our vessel coming into
violent contact with that containing the cargo
of wild animals, which caused them to utter
their savage cries with terrific uproar; and to
this was added the oaths and shouts of the
sailors and the pilots, each laying upon the
other the fault of the encounter, and all preparing
to go from words to blows. This issue
was, however, happily avoided, and the vessels
being soon free of each other, we proceeded on
our way.
“These animals,” then resumed the Jew,
“about which you wondered that they should
be here, are destined to the games instituted by
Herod in commemoration of the building of
Cæsarea, and which return every fifth year.
On the third day from this they commence;
and if you are a stranger in this part of the
world, and would observe the customs of a new
remaining and witnessing them.”
I said “that I should certainly do so; that
was abroad for the single purpose of seeing the
people of various regions, and obtaining such
knowledge as might in this way be gathered
without much expense of labor or thought
that although, as he had seen, I was no Jew
except in the misfortune of having descended
from that tribe, I was yet especially desirous of
dwelling awhile among them, as, if not a polite
or powerful nation, they certainly were a remarkable
one, and well merited the observations
of a curious traveller.”
A mingled look of scorn and rage was the
only response I received at first for this speech
He paced the deck of the vessel a few moments
and I supposed would not deign to hold further
communication with me. He, however, soon
returned to my side, having swallowed his indignation.
“Young man,” said he, “I forgive the levity
of your speech, for the reason that I well deserved
it for persuading you to be present at
heathen sports, on a Jewish soil. But in truth
they have been now so long celebrated, that
they have become a part of the life of the people,
and it is only a few of the stricter sort who
condemn them or keep back from them. It had
had I denounced them as I should have done,
and warned thee against them. But you will
use in this your liberty. I now wish to say
that, in spite of your enmity toward your own
people, I have conceived a regard for you, and
while you shall sojourn in Cæsarea offer you
my house and home; and once beneath the
roof of a true son of Abraham, I will not doubt
that your long perished affection for the land of
your fathers may be revived, and that we may
send you home a Jew in nature as — forgive me
— you are in outward semblance.”
“Were it only for an apprehension of such
lamentable issue,” I rejoined, “I should feel
compelled to decline your hospitable request.
May I never be more of that of which I am
already too much. But beside this, I am bound
in obedience to the wishes of my mother, to
seek out the dwelling of the widow of Sameas,
the wine merchant, with whom it is my purpose
to abide, if indeed she yet lives and can receive
me, for it is very many years since we have
heard of her welfare, and know not now whether
she be even an inhabitant of Cæsarea.”
To this the stranger replied with vivacity,
“The widow of Sameas! Ah, the Lord be
thanked for directing your course to that haven.
She is a true mother in Israel. She still lives and
Sameas was no idler; and when he died, his
widow and children inherited the fruits of his
industry; and but for the unjust exactions of
Pilate, their wealth had been second to that of
few within the walls. As it is, they enjoy competence
and more. But the dearest wealth of
the house is the zeal for the law and the rights of
Judea which fires the souls of Philip and Anna,
the son and daughter of the Merchant. The
best I can wish thee, therefore, my young Roman,
is that thou mayest dwell a space in the
house of Sameas, for if there be but a drop of
Jewish blood in thy body, I fear not but their
ardor will so warm and swell it, that it shall fill
all thy veins.”
We were now separated, the vessel having
reached the spot where she was to be secured,
and the passengers making ready to depart.
The Jew, my companion, took leave of me,
after first directing me in such a manner that I
could not fail to find the dwelling of the
widow of the wine merchant. It was with
little satisfaction that I looked forward to a
residence with a family of Jewish zealots. It
was enough, I thought, that I had borne so
long, and with such patience, the reproaches of
my own mother, quite enough that, in addition,
I had just been exposed to the vituperations of
alive, without being now for many days, how
many I could not know, but for many days
shut up, without the possibility of escape, in
the very hot-bed of Judaism. What a fate for
me! I had almost resolved to take ship, without
so much as landing, for Alexandria, when
the image of your sorrowful and rebuking
countenance, my mother, presented itself before
me, and I turned dutifully toward the quarter
of the city where dwelt the merchant.
To reach it I must pass through the central parts
of the city, to where it first joins the country.
The place I sought I easily found; for Cæsarea,
dear mother, although the capital of Judea, is
not so large as Rome. And moreover as I passed
along, I could not but judge that it would
scarce be so enduring, seeing that, though presenting
everywhere the marks of newness, it
presents also everywhere the signs of premature
decay. A city built in a day is very likely to
last but a day. And all around, are Herod's
piles of building, whether in the form of theatre,
temple, market-place, or quay, already perceived
to yield to the effects of time. Even the palace
of the Governor, which erewhile was the
residence of Herod himself, is in parts of it,
ruinous through the falling asunder of the ill
cemented masonry. Pilate could hardly trust
the citizens. But he is in little danger at any
time, as I think, considering what the population
of the city is, notwithstanding the enmity
of the Jewish portion of the inhabitants.
The dwelling of Sameas, after traversing the
entire breadth of the city, I at length reached.
A beggar issuing from a gate-way, laden with
the proofs of the benevolence to which he had
successfully appealed, was the only person of
whom I could inquire which of the dwellings
near me was that of the widow of the wine
merchant. He answered, pointing to his sack
of commodities which he was bearing away,
“From whom but the widow of Sameas do
the poor of Cæsarea depart laden in this fashion?
Pass yonder threshold and thou shalt find thyself
in paradise.”
So saying, and waving his arm with dignity,
he turned away to count over his stolen treasures.
The kindhearted we always approach
with confidence, so that with a quicker pace I
passed the gateway and entered a spacious garden,
in the centre of which, almost buried beneath
overhanging foliage and flowers of every
variety of form and hue, stood the dwelling of
the wine merchant. A slave now immediately
approached, saying he would conduct me to
that part of the house where I should see
and I observed the great beauty of the spot,
and the many tokens of wealth and refinement
in the garden and in the dwelling, the forms
and proportions of which were now distinctly
to be seen through the opening trees, I found
myself growing to a more complacent humor,
and better disposed, than when I left the vessel,
to greet with some appearance of warmth the
widow of the virtuous Sameas. It is true, I
saw statue neither of god or goddess, nor vase
of marble curiously wrought with nymphs and
fawns, and young, dancing, half-drunk Bacchuses;
nor did the imperial forms of Augustus
and Tiberius greet my eye, as they do everywhere
in street and garden, market-place and
shop in Rome. So that from art much was
wanting to give the truest grace to the picture
before me; but nature seemed to have made
good all defect of this sort by her superior
charms; and I was made soon to forget what at
first struck me as a want, by the novelty and
surpassing richness and variety of plants, trees,
and shrubs, both native and foreign, which met
my eye. I lingered to admire, and would, at
that moment, rather have remained among the
beauties of nature, than have gone farther to
encounter the living beauties of these half-barbarian
regions; but I was civilly urged on by
ushered into the presence of the widow and her
daughter.
They were seated in a large and lofty portico,
whose arches, overhung with flowers, opened
immediately into the garden, while here and
there, as the trees permitted, were seen gleaming
through, the light blue waters of the Mediterranean.
The mother was occupied in some
labor of the needle, adjusting or repairing what
seemed to me some military garment — the
daughter in arranging in groups, apparently to
please her own eye, some flowers which lay
spread in rich profusion upon a marble table. I
may suppose that I was taken to be some new
applicant for the alms of the rich and benevolent
widow, as the daughter, to my vexation,
did not raise her head at my approach, and the
mother did but rise and move toward me with
a stately step — yet, I must add, with an expression
of gentleness in the countenance.
When I had finished my introductory narrative,
and had declaimed of yourself and myself,
and of the whole tribe of Alexanders, from
those of Beth-Harem to those of Rome, I was
one by one greeted with many smiles of welcome,
and before I had ended was seated between
the mother and daughter, both apparently
pleased to entertain a stranger from Rome, but
house. The daughter, as I had spoken,
turned and looked upon me, and at first I
thought I had never seen anything quite so dark
and forbidding as her countenance; but when,
as I proceeded, it came to be lighted up with
emotion and with smiles, it at length put on a
more agreeable aspect, though still so dark an
olive I thought I had never seen upon the skin,
nor eyes so large and black set in the human
head. Among all who have thronged your
house from Judea, my mother, one so extremely
Jewish as this young Israelite was
never seen there.
When I had further satisfied the widow
concerning yourself, giving her so minute
an account of your life and character, that
I fear some part at least must have been
invention rather than fact, and then had replied
to all the questions which were put to me —
with a real interest in public affairs — concerning
Tiberius and the present power of Sejanus,
the mother said, that she had hoped the provinces
would be more fortunate than the capital;
and indeed had hardly thought it possible
that, while there was one like Tiberius in
Rome, another like Pilate could have been
found for Judea; but — lately especially — it
was only too plain that we were to be the
they of Rome.
I replied, “that where the head of a great empire
was such a one as Tiberius, it was a
natural consequence that all in society like him
should float upon the surface. They would
crawl forth from the hiding places of their
vices, and grow great in the sunshine of their
mighty example and patron. Men like your
governor are common enough now in Rome,
though not always are they fortunate enough
to rise into place. For though the Emperor
himself chooses to play the tyrant, he is not so
ready as one might suppose to multiply himself
in his subordinates.”
“Is it not singular, then,” said Anna, “that
he persists in retaining Pilate in his office, notwithstanding
his cruelties, and the enmity of
the people?”
“He may do that,” I answered, “in agreement
with a sentiment he has been heard to
utter, that to change a cruel or rapacious governor
of a province, is but to send a new and
hungry robber to take the place of one who has
already gorged himself, and is likely to rest and
sleep, as it is the nature of an animal to do
when he has filled himself; just as the poor
wretch covered with sores begged that the flies
already feeding might not be driven away,
swarm.”
“That,” said the young Jewess, “is indeed
the sentiment of a heartless tyrant — of one
who is not only indifferent to the misery he occasions,
but can make a jest of it. If Rome
bears patiently with the greater monster, I trust
that Judea will not with the lesser.”
“Take heed, my daughter,” said the widow,
“how your righteous indignation finds too loud
and warm an expression. There is some truth
in the saying of Tiberius. We may drive
away Pilate only to be cursed with a worse
man.”
“That were impossible,” cried the daughter.
“Were you ever in Rome?” said I.
“No,” replied the young girl.
“I thought as much. Believe me, there are
worse men in Rome than Pilate. I know those
in the city — men, too, of note — who, were
they here, would put to open shame the deeds
of your present governor. Tiberius has proved
already a rare schoolmaster. His pupils abound
in the capital and throughout Italy.”
“And Capreæ is just at present the schoolroom,”
said Anna.
“Yes, and too small for the scholars who
crowd it. But, if you can pardon my ignorance,
of what have you to complain here in
I passed through your city, only signs of prosperity
and peace; nor since I left Rome, nor
indeed before for a long time, have I heard anything
of evils which you are suffering under.”
“Ah,” said Anna, with animation, “I know
how it is with you Roman Jews. You grow to
be so in love with the greatness of your adopted
country, that you are soon strangely forgetful of
that from which you sprang. The wrongs and
sufferings of Judea, which cry to Heaven, are
not heard in the din of great events and the
whirl of pleasure. Many of you, so am I told,
deny your name and country, and put on the
dress and take the name of Roman. Pray
Heaven it is not so with you, for your face is
honest, and —” In her earnestness she suddenly
paused, and her dark skin was covered
with blushes that made her for the moment
beautiful. Her eye fell upon my Roman dress,
and she perceived that she had involved me in
the condemnation she had pronounced.
Almost enjoying her confusion, I said, “I
confess my recreancy. But you will judge me
with more lenity, I am sure, when I tell you
how odious a thing it is to bear the name of
Jew in Rome. Were one born a full grown
man, he might, perhaps, find philosophy
enough to steel him against the taunts and
tender sensibilities of a child — it is quite too
hard a yoke to bear. Roman boys taught me
early to both hate and despise the religion of
my fathers, which, as all the treatment I received
on every side, and all the language I
heard assured me, would procure for me nothing
better than contempt and insult. My father, too,
had renounced all of Judaism that he could. He
never entered a synagogue; he observed none
of the Jewish rites or festivals; his phrases were
set to Roman measures; and his outward homage
was paid with scrupulousness to pagan institutions,
though that he despised them in his
heart as much as he hated his own belief, I do
not doubt. Gold, gold was his only God; and
he cared not for man, but as he might help
or hinder him in that only worship of his heart.
Do not, my friends, accuse me of filial impiety
for these sentiments. For a parent who provided
for me only gold, and whose only legacy was
gold, I can feel no very lively emotions of gratitude.
I received from him none of the signs
of a parent's love. He hardly knew me. As
he moved in the morning to the narrow vault
in Rome's vast centre, where he amassed his
riches, with his eyes looking inwards upon some
new scheme of wealth, blind and deaf to all
beside and without him, he would pass me in
directly on me; and if I made some childish
advances, which I soon learned not to do; a
frown and a rebuke for a troublesome vagrant
that I was, was all I ever received. As I grew
into years I drew no nearer to him, nor he to me.
Whatever was needful to my education in all
the wisdom of the Romans or the Greeks, was
bountifully supplied; nor was I denied that,
whatever it might be, which wealth could procure,
which was thought necessary to place me
on a level with the young men of the capital in
any pursuit or pleasure. But to my father's
counsels or business I was never admitted. Of
a single thought of his mind, or anxiety of his
heart, I was never permitted to be a sharer.
Here I was an annoyance and a hindrance. How
can you wonder, then, I added, that I grew up
not a Jew but a Roman? or how can you greatly
blame me? You, my mother, will not, I am
sure, condemn me for this freedom. You, more
than I, know how to justify it. But when I
had said these things, I then drew another picture
of my other parent, and showed how all
your endeavors in an opposite direction could
not but fail, with all Rome and my father against
you.
As I paused, the widow of Sameas said, “It
is not strange, such being your nurture, that
heart; nor that you should be ignorant of the
condition of what to you must ever have been
a place so obscure or unknown as Cæsarea.
Let us hope that being now here, a witness as
you will be of our frequent oppressions and
insults, the love of Judea, which, sure I am,
you drew in with your mother's milk, will
revive, and unite you to her interests. Not
that I am an advocate for open resistance.
That as I deem were madness itself. We can
never oppose Rome but we must be crushed.
I mean only that by a wise and manly perseverance
in an assertion of our just rights, both
before the governor and the Emperor at Rome,
we may at length perhaps obtain some redress,
and the removal of some burdens, which weigh
upon us with a weight too heavy to be borne.”
“But your numbers,” I said, “must be so
great, I should judge as a stranger, as to be a
sufficient protection against lawless violence or
rapacity on the part of the Roman governor.
With a military force not more numerous than
his, he must be weaker than the united populace.”
“Ah,” replied Anna, “there is the evil we
suffer under. We are not united. Even among
ourselves there are those who judge very differently
of the measures we ought to pursue;
counsel moderation and forbearance. And then,
do you not know it? the greater part of our
population is Greek, and the Greek is an
enemy more bitter than even the Roman.
Quarrels continually arise, and blood is often
shed. The streets of Cæsarea have I seen
more than once, young as I am, to run with
the blood of those who have perished in these
wild combats, the Greeks always in league
with the Romans. Even now — but see, here
comes Philip, and with ill news too, if his face
may be read.”
The young man, her brother, entered with
haste as Anna spoke, his countenance expressive
of anything but agreeable intelligence.
He was above the common height, of a proud
and lofty air, and a very athlete in his firm and
well knit joints and massy limbs; while his
countenance, dark and lowering, made you
think him one designed by nature for scenes of
strife and war, or even for deeds of private
violence and revenge. He saluted me as his
mother made me known to him, with a look
and manner which declared that he at once
comprehended me. He immediately addressed
himself with vehemence to his mother and sister.
“Our suit has been rejected, and the Greeks
have triumphed. 'T is as I said it would be.
are again to ring with the hisses and laughter
of the city. Our warnings, our appeals, our
entreaties, for we even entreated, availed nothing
to change his stubborn will. He sat on
his tribunal white as marble, hard as marble,
cold as marble. May God do so to me, and
more also, —”
“Nay, nay, Philip, my son, curse not,” said
his mother. “To bear is a virtue and a duty,
as well as to act. Be not enslaved to your
passions. Another day and Pilate may be in a
better mood. He is not always thus.”
“Mother, mother,” cried the young man,
“if we bear more or longer, we shall deserve to
bear forever; if we yield now, were I a Roman,
I would no longer deign to use a Jew for my
footstool, — I would not spit upon him. Nor
will we yield. So says Eleazer, and so says
Simon.”
“Were they with you at your audience?”
“They were; and from a prophet's lips there
never came forth more moving words than
from those of the holy Simon. Yet upon
the pillars of the Hall they fell as persuasively
as on the ears of Pilate. His icy front never
once warmed or relaxed, or not till he uttered
his decree, and the base rabble, set on by
Lycias and Philæus, laughed and shouted as we
have liked to be there?”
The mother made no reply; but tears fell
from her eyes. The face of the daughter
burned with the sense of indignity and wounded
pride. Philip, chafed by his own hot and hasty
temper, rose, and withdrew into the garden.
I followed him. Had I been easy of defeat, I
should instantly have been repelled by the
manner which he assumed, as he perceived
that I was near him. But, as I had my own
purposes to answer, I heeded him little. I
joined him in his walk, and soon succeeded in
convincing him that, in seeking his conversation,
I had some end before me of more dignity
than the mere gratification of an idle curiosity,
or the passing away of a few idle moments.
I gave him an account of myself, and of our
family, and in return solicited such information
as he was willing to impart concerning the
present condition of the city, and especially of
its Jewish inhabitants, in whom I could not but
feel a deep interest.
“I know not,” he said, with bitterness,
“what interest a Roman can take in the
Jews of Cæsarea.” I answered “that, perhaps,
I was not so much a Roman as at first
appearance he might think me; that it was
true I had been almost taught from my infancy
consorted chiefly with Romans, but that, notwithstanding
the devotion I had manifested
for everything Roman, there was still a feeling
within that clung with a secret fondness to the
land and the stock, from which I had come,
and which had shown itself with a new force
since I found myself on the shores of Judea,
but especially since I had been beneath his
roof, and had heard what I had.” He took this
very coolly, and seeming to regard what I had
said as words of civility, rather than anything
more serious, he replied, “that I was too lately
in the country to be able to join myself with
intelligence to one party or another of the
inhabitants; that, if it had been my habit for
so many years to look upon the Jew with the
eye of a Roman, to wear the Roman garb,
and use the Roman tongue, and receive a Roman's
homage, it was little likely my feeling
of regard for the Jew in these remote outposts
would be a very lasting one, seeing to
how much greater danger he is exposed here
than in Rome; nor was it to be much wondered
at that it should be so with me.” I answered,
“that I was sure my interest was
as far as it went a sincere one; and if it
had become a stronger one just in proportion to
my better knowledge of my countrymen, and of
more, this sentiment would go on to increase in
strength; and I was obliged to acknowledge,
that I was, even to the present moment, extremely
ignorant of the true circumstances of
the Jewish people. What, I asked, is the present
difficulty here in Cæsarea? A particular
instance of injury on one side, and of oppression
on the other, if you will give me its history,
will pour more light and truth into my mind
than can come from any other source.” He
then, with something more of regard in his
manner, invited me to follow him to a more
remote part of the garden, where the ground
rising to a gentle eminence, and crowned with a
small building, which served as a protection
from the rays of the sun, gave to those who sat
within a prospect of the whole extent of Cæsarea,
together with the harbor, and the Mediterranean
beyond. Here we seated ourselves, and
Philip gave me the information for which I had
asked.
“The present hostility of one part of our
city toward the other,” he said, “is nothing
new to those who dwell here, nor does it
spring from anything new in the circumstances
in which you find us. We owe not all, but the
worst evils of our condition, to Herod the Great.
For, when he had, determined, among other
city in honor of Cæsar, instead, — as would
better have become him, — of filling it with
the people over whom he was set as king,
called hither a colony of Greeks, making out of
them, and those who came from Rome and
other parts of Italy, what was in truth a Pagan
city. Everywhere throughout our land, even
in Jerusalem itself, had he used every endeavor,
and every subtle art to change the institutions
of our nation, or secretly undermine them by
the grafting upon them of heathen usages.
Theatres, amphitheatres, and games, the combats
of gladiators and of wild beasts, were to
be witnessed in all our considerable cities, and
even within the precints of Jerusalem itself.
The people were not without an affection for
the customs he thus brought in, and, even as
in the days of Moses and the prophets they
were prone to idolatry, so now were they
prompt to worship the new idols set up before
them by the great king. They were weary of
the distinctions of both belief and custom,
which separated them from the rest of the
world, which especially built up a wall of partition
between them and the refined and polite
nations, the Romans and the Greeks. A large
proportion of the people, therefore, entered with
zeal into all the projects of Herod, which went
with the other nations of the world. Here, in
Cæsarea, he designed even that the people
should be wholly Greek, if not in descent, at
least in language and manners. Hebrews were
not, indeed, by the laws of the place, excluded,
but none were encouraged to dwell here, but
such as were willing to call themselves Herodians.
And what more or better was to be
looked for from a base peasant of Ascalon? But,
as you may believe, when the walls of the city
were once up, and the port had been enclosed
from the sea, and inhabitants began to pour
in from every part of the world, the Jew
also, — not the Herodian, but the Jew as
well — was not blind to the advantages which
presented themselves here to his industry,
nor slow to seize upon them. Large numbers
of such as were zealous for the law accordingly
flocked hither from all parts of Judea,
and especially from Jerusalem, and here pursued
their craft, and here built their synagogues.
But they were looked upon with an
evil eye, — even as they are in Rome or
Alexandria, — and quarrels, in no long time,
broke out, and served to increase the general
hatred, in which Greeks held the Jews, and the
Jews the Greeks. This spirit of hate we have
inherited from our parents; and fresh instances
served to inflame it, and impart a tenfold
bitterness. It has never died away; and
when there has been an apparent peace, the
same amount of angry passion has been running
beneath, ready at any moment to break
forth. What has within a few days happened,
to enrage so our people, you may deem
a slight and insufficient cause; but so thinks
not the true and loyal Jew. He would
die rather than renounce his ancient rights.
Listen a moment longer. No sooner was
Cæsarea filled in part by Jews zealous of the
law, than, in agreement with their customs,
they erected synagogues for their worship, and
in process of years have multiplied themselves
in every part of the city. Now it has
happened, some of our tribe having been
among the earliest inhabitants of Cæsarea, that
they came to be possessors of lands and houses,
which then, indeed, were at the very outer
limits of the city, but now, by reason of
its growth, make its very centre. And our
chief synagogue, so Providence has willed,
stands, as you may have seen, not far from the
palace of Herod, upon a rising ground, where
it is seen of all who come in or go out, and has
long been, for that reason, an occasion of envy
to the Greeks. After many fruitless endeavors
plan, which, because it is made to be a sign
of their devotion to Cæsar, Pilate will not
oppose, although persuaded that not devotion to
Cæsar, but malignity and envy toward the
Jews have moved them. They have declared
their purpose to erect a colossus to Tiberius,
and beg of Pilate the very spot where stands
the temple of our worship, which, they require,
shall be levelled with the ground, that the
image of a man and a monster, yet whom they
will by and by call a god, may stand upon its
ruins. Sooner may the great sea rise and
sweep, not Cæsarea only, but Judea, from the
face of the earth, than such a deed be
done, while a Jew lives to ward it off; that
were a judgment of God, and we would meet
with open arms the rushing flood; this, but the
wrath of wicked men, and, as before against
the hosts of Moab, so must we now rise up as
one man against the hosts of Rome. This, said
Philip, is the condition of Cæsarea, and such
the posture of our affairs. It offers little to
interest a stranger, least of all a Roman.”
I told him, in reply, “that it was not a thing
to choose with me, whether I should take part
with the oppressed; my nature impelled me
that way; that, notwithstanding my Roman
nurture, and Roman prejudices, I had still observed
Rome had been assigned the Jew, and the
manner in which, both by those in power and
the common citizen, he had been treated;
that nothing there could be done by so few
against so many, and I had waited, hoping that
time might, in its changes, bring some redress.
But I had waited in vain, and I could only cry
out against the fortune, which had made me a
Roman by birth, but a Jew by blood, and so
the heir of a hated and degraded name. Finding
myself now upon the soil of my proper
country, and hearing what I now had from
himself, and what had been communicated by
others, I could not but confess that my heart
had grown warmer toward my native land,
and I should watch with interest the affairs
which were now in agitation.”
Philip replied, “that I should do well to examine
for myself into the state of the city, and
by inquiry upon both sides, learn the exact
truth in respect to the particular dispute of
which he had spoken. He hoped I should
dwell with them a while, and from that point,
as a centre, make, my observations. But if,
upon a short survey, I found myself a Roman
still, I should do well, within a few days, to
take my departure, since with the same certainty
that Pilate adhered to his present resolution,
bloodshed in Cæsarea.”
I said, “that no prospect of such an event,
even though I should remain neutral, would
drive me from Cæsarea, if for any other reasons
whatever it should be my wish to prolong my
residence, for I was a lover of anything else
better than a state of repose, and should choose
to stay and see the conflict carried on to its end.
But, if I might judge from my present feelings
and convictions, and if nothing adverse occurred,
I should be ready to take part with him
and his friends in any measures they might
think it proper to adopt.”
I can see an approving smile light up your
countenance, my mother, as you read these
words, just such a smile as came over the features,
stern and dark as they were, of Philip.
He took my hand with passion as I ended, saying,
“he hoped God would confirm me in my
present purpose, and turn my heart wholly toward
the deliverance of Judea. What was
about to happen in Cæsarea was truly a small
matter, but it might prove the beginning of
mighty revolutions. A spark had set whole
cities on fire. What shall be done here, may
stir up those of Jerusalem to deeds of the same
sort. They especially bear Pilate no love for
insults put upon them many years ago. Now
our people amiss, they need but such an example
as we shall set them to show themselves
worthy of their fathers.”
I assured him, as he said this, “that I should
now remain in Cæsarea till the present affair
was ended, putting off my journey to Beth-Harem;
and though I should not consciously interpret
falsely the signs that might appear, I
should not be sorry if I felt myself bound to
remain here rather than go farther. I was a
stranger to those in Beth-Harem, as well as to
all else in Judea, and my only tie was that
which now bound me so agreeably to Cæsarea.”
“Are you, then,” asked Philip, with eagerness,
“on the way to Beth-Harem, and do you
know the great Onias, who truly may be called
the prince of that region?”
He was both amazed and overjoyed when he
learned that Onias was the brother of my own
mother; amazed, as he said, that I should to so
late a period have remained a stranger to one so
great as he, and my own uncle, and overjoyed
that through me possibly he might be able to draw
Onias over to take part in their affairs. “Yet,”
he added, a shade passing over his countenance,
“it will not be much that a Roman, or at best,
but a half-Jew, can do for us with Onias.
a Roman, and that is a Roman Jew.” I told
him, that, perhaps, before I should see Onias, if I
saw him at all, I might, by the events here in
Cæsarea, be converted to a veritable Hebrew,
one whom he would not disdain to take by the
hand and admit to his counsels, in which case my
services should not be wanting. Philip hoped
it might be so; and then, after more conversation
of the same sort, he rose, and taking me
first to different parts of the extensive garden,
brought me at length to the house, where we
found the mother and daughter awaiting us, at
a table spread with the best hospitality of the
East.
I enjoyed the repast, my mother, I must confess,
not less than some of those in Rome, at
which Drusus has presided, and where I have
reclined upon patrician couches. Never, indeed,
did I enjoy myself or my companions more.
Yet am I the same person who say this? Am
I he, who but so little while ago shunned a Jew
as a Jew shuns a leper? Am I he, whose highest
ambition hitherto hath been to ape the
Roman, talk like him, walk like him, dress like
him, smile like him, frown like him, and who
now am the inmate of Jews, — Jews, not of
Rome, who are somewhat, but of Judea,
who are the refuse and offscouring of the earth,
Greek, the hatred of all men; a people fit but
to be the drudges and slaves of politer nations?
Truly, I doubt if I be Julian, the son of Alexander,
who but so late left Rome on his Eastern
travels, the bosom friend of Quintius Hirpinus
and Appius Lucretius, his fellow-travellers, both
sons and companions of princes, and have not
been, by some strange power, changed to another
nature, and another person. Of another nature
I certainly am, — at least of another mind; or
rather, perhaps, I have come or am coming to a
knowledge of my true mind, which in men oftentimes
lies buried, as I think, out of sight,
till events, or the will of God, reveal it. Well,
most beloved mother, of one thing I am sure,
that whatever change of this sort has come upon
me, thou art the happier for it. Now thou hast
hopes that I shall not forever bring shame upon
my descent and my kindred; that I shall now,
at length, perhaps, set before me the great and
excellent of my native land for my examples, in
place of those of Rome; some holy David, or
Ahab, or Haman, if my memory be right, and try
upon such steps to mount up to honor and fame in
the eyes of my proper countrymen. May that
come to pass, whatever it may be, which shall
impart to thee the greatest pleasure.
I have now passed in this ocean capital, this
been wholly barren of events or pleasures. But
what chiefly they have impressed upon my
mind is the speedy certainty of riot and violence
within the city. The mutual hostility of the different
portions of the inhabitants I find to be bitter
to an extreme degree. The signs are many,
and distinct enough, of approaching tumult. No
Jew passes a Greek, but he must take an insult;
and if it be returned, it then comes to blows,
and others join, and the fight rages till they are
separated by the Roman horse. The synagogues,
often beautiful with marble, or sculptured
wood, have been defaced by filth, which
the licentious rabble have hurled upon them,
when protected by the night. So, too, have
the houses of the principal men among them
been dealt with in the like manner. Yet, of
all this the Roman power takes no note, but
looks on, apparently pleased with the violences
and indignities which are put upon the barbarians,
or their only care is that there shall be no
general combats; and to this end, the guard of
the governor has been doubled, and ere the decree
to raze the devoted synagogue shall go into
effect, a legion, it is so reported, will be drawn
from Jerusalem. Philip, in the mean time, with
others of the principal citizens, is working in
secret to make ready, in the last resort, such a
formidable to be trifled with. Yet, it is their
purpose, that no general resistance by arms shall
be made, till all other means have been tried
to soften the obstinacy of the governor.
The Jews, after a consultation among those
who are chief among them, have resolved upon
another and more numerous deputation to Pilate.
Five hundred of their number, headed by the
priests and elders of the synagogues, are appointed
again to present themselves before the
governor, and intercede for the people and their
religion. All have agreed in this measure, but
it has been chiefly urged by the Herodians, who
are unwilling that the present peaceful order of
things should be disturbed. They are for quiet
and peace, on whatever terms of submission,
and for adopting, to the farthest extent possible,
without the absolute surrender of their national
religion, the customs and usages of both Roman
and Greek; it being with them, as it hath been
with others whom I could name elsewhere, a
point of vanity to strip themselves of everything,
that by its strangeness should proclaim
them Jews, retaining little but the name, and a
very slight observance of their sabbaths, fast-days,
and other laws and institutions of the like
kind. They advocate forbearance and delay
now, for the reason especially that the games of
ought not to be disturbed. The more zealous
Jews have united with them, because, for the
most part, they would sincerely deprecate a general
quarrel, in which the affair now seems
likely enough to terminate, and hope, by a fair
show of temperance and patience, to carry their
end against the Greeks. But, among these last,
there is a small number, — small compared with
the whole, — but composed of men who set
their religion before all other things, who will
suffer nothing to be done, which shall so much
as seem to cast contempt upon it, if even by
the sacrifice of their lives the evil can be averted.
These are men the most singular I have
ever yet met with. Religion is to them, as
they say, and as one sees, more than life; yet
they are filled at the same time with the darkest,
fiercest passions. The very temper and soul of
the assassin seem lodged within them, so that to
defend some ceremony or law of their worship,
from slight or insult, they would not pause to
involve a whole city in war and bloodshed.
Philip, I need hardly say, is one of these; while
his mother and sister, though belonging to the
number of the zealous, yet are truly desirous to
avoid open violence. He rather desires it, that
he may revenge himself and his religion upon
such as have oppressed and injured them. If,
and leagued with whom stands thy unworthy
son, who as yet may be termed little more than
a proselyte of the gate, — he can hardly to-day
inform thee. He is at present rather a lookeron
than an actor; and on which side he will
by-and-by find himself, he pretends not to say.
Of one thing, however, is he certain, that he
will stand guardian in any time of danger over
the widow of Sameas and her dark-skinned
daughter. Anna thinks thus; — and she makes
pretensions to a great gift of discernment; “Julian,”
she said to her mother, “seems little
enough of our side, if one judges by the costume,
the air, and by words that lie on the surface
of discourse. But by the motions of his countenance
last night, when he sat listening to the
words of Simon, am I sure that his heart must
ever be on the side of the injured; and by
what he did not say, am I sure that, either because
of the early instructions of his mother, or
because of his very nature, it is only the God
and the faith of Moses that will ever give him
rest. He wants more than he has. And where
shall he find it but here among us?” So said
the wise and penetrating Anna. Her mother
smiled, and nodded, as if assenting. I only said in
reply something that implied my thought, “that
among the Jews, as among the Romans, there
ceremonial and barren, that too many seemed to
think it enough to meet the letter of some dead
ritual, while the practice of virtue was overlooked.”
She only looked sad and sorrowful, as
I said this, which was to me as if she had confessed
that it was true enough of great proportions
of her people. In her own heart, I knew
it was sufficiently otherwise, though I could not
say so. There is, I am sure, truth and faith
enough in her to save a city.
Cæsarea is now filling with the numbers of
those from the country round about, who are
pouring in to witness the games of Herod;
numbers greater than usual, drawn now not only
by a desire to see the sports, but by curiosity
and interest concerning the present difference.
Philip assures me that the zealous are arriving
from great distances.
When some new events have happened, I
will write again; till then, farewell.”
In this slight vein, in those days of my more
than Egyptian darkness, did I open myself to
my mother; who did not, thereupon, deny and
disown me, as she might justly enough have done,
but had patience with me, and by her timely counsels
strove, and not wholly in vain, to carry up to
my native country, which then just began
to show themselves. In this manner, also, like a
child, did I suffer myself to be afflicted, by the
general hatred entertained toward our people by
the other nations of the world; a hatred of which
I had more reason to boast, seeing that it had
its birth in those religious distinctions which exalted
us above every other people. Had I possessed
any power of reflection, also, or any
knowledge of their writings who anciently had
discoursed of the Jews, I should have perceived
that all of this hatred and contempt, that had not
its natural origin in envy of our superior advantages,
was to be charged upon the lies, which,
first engendered in the brain of the execrable
Manetho, — fruitful of lies as the Nile of reptiles,
— had then descended an inheritance of
falsehood and error through succeeding generations,
but which had ever been greedily seized
upon, and with unabating malignity constantly
transmitted to those who were to come after.
Even the Romans, notwithstanding their greatness
of character, and notwithstanding so many
families of our nation had lived among them
with distinction, and had even been entertained
as favorites in the very household of the Cæsars,
were not ashamed to treat us with the like injustice,
and continually reproach us with our origin
were not greater on their part, than were both
the vanity and the baseness on mine, so manifest
in my courting the favor and regard of those who,
at the very same time, so openly despised the
people from whom I sprung. As you shall soon
learn, however, I was presently cured of a folly,
which, I doubt not now, made me to be scorned
by the very persons who seemed most to flatter
me; for he can never be held as worthy of a
real esteem, who appears to be ashamed of his
own kindred.
Again I draw from my letters to my mother;
for although my recollection is exact and vivid of
those days and events, so that, as I think, I
could set them down in order, applying to that
source alone, yet in this the beginning of my
history, I shall, I doubt not, more perfectly
comply with your wishes, my kinsmen of
Rome, if I appear before you in the very form
in which I painted myself in these remote days.
It was thus then, the second time, that I
addresed myself to the blessed Naomi.
| I. Julian, or Scenes in Judea | |