It was not long before the excitement began [51] to vent itself in the usual acts of violence. Of course the first thing was to make an attack on the bread depots. The authorities had foreseen the probability of such a result, and had made preparations accordingly. Each depot had its garrison of soldiers. They had been kept out of sight as long as it was possible to dispense with their services, but were now instructed to show themselves. The mob were for the most part unarmed, though some of the most turbulent spirits had provided themselves with bludgeons and even more formidable weapons, and at sight of the armed men it drew back. The excitement had not yet become so intense as to make it ready for so unequal a conflict. Then there was a diversion; for Narcissus, one of the wealthy freedmen who shared the real though not the ostensible management of public affairs, was seen to pass in his gorgeous chariot close to the outskirts of the crowd. “See the scoundrel who battens on the hunger of the people,” was the cry raised by the multitude in a hundred different ways, and an ugly rush was made in the direction of the equipage. But Narcissus was perfectly well aware of his unpopularity, and had made special preparations that day to protect himself against any manifestations of hostility. A strong escort of Praetorian cavalry was in [52] attendance. They were riding at a considerable distance behind the carriage, so that an uninformed spectator might have supposed that their presence was accidental. But the officer in command was clearly on the watch for what might happen, and as soon as he saw the movement of the crowd he gave the order to his men to close up. Instantly the troopers put their horses to the gallop, and before the foremost rioters could come up, they had formed themselves in a close body on each side of the equipage. The crowd, baulked of their vengeance, could do nothing but give vent to a storm of shrill cries of rage and angry exclamations. These were redoubled when Narcissus was seen to salute the crowd with an ironical courtesy. Nothing more was possible; in a few minutes he was safe within the strongly guarded walls of the Imperial Palace.
But the crowd was not going to be so easily mocked and eluded. The rioters were not rash enough to venture on a collision with the Praetorian cavalry, nor to break their heads against the stone walls of the public bakeries. But there were other bakers who would furnish an easier prey. Some of the creatures, thoughtless or malignant, who are always at hand to suggest some kind of mischief to an excited crowd, raised a cry of “Down with the bakers,” and a rush was [53] made to the nearest establishments. Some had been prudent enough to shut up their shops and remove all their wares; others had sought and obtained the protection of the city-guards; but many were quite unprepared for the outbreak. They were not in the least to blame, as far as the ticket-holders were concerned. Possibly they had raised the price upon their private customers before they had felt the pinch themselves, and while they were still using the stock bought at the old pricesbakers and other tradesmen were not above doing such things in ancient Rome, as they are not above doing them in modern London. Possibly also they had charged these same customers with an increase which more than made up for the market risethis is probably a practice as old as the baking business itself. But they were not in the least responsible for the small loaves, largely made up with rye-flour, which had been issued from the public depots. Their innocence did not protect them. The crowd had a bread grievance on their minds, and were not at all particular on whom they vented it. Shop after shop was wrecked, most of the spoil being as usual trampled under foot and generally wasted. The plunderers were not hungry, but angry. Then it occurred to them that spoiling bread shops and bakeries with a [54] blazing June sun overheadit was almost noonwas thirsty work, and that there were wine shops near. Against the wine-sellers the rioters had no grievance whatever, except that some of them might have been refused the amount of credit to which steady customers thought themselves entitled. But, grievance or no grievance, the wine shops obviously called for the next visit. Some sagacious dealers saved their establishments and part at least of their stock-in-trade by a liberal offer of free drinks to all comers. The rioters could not for very shame do any harm to a generous host who rolled a cask on to the pavement and asked for no payment for its contents. Others, who were more inclined to stand upon their rights, escaped less easily. Considerable damage was done, more by waste than by robbery, for the wine that flooded the gutter was far greater in quantity than that which went down the throats of the rioters. The disturbance developed in the usual way. The professional thieves and robbers who always lurk in the slums of great cities, creatures of hideous aspect who seldom show themselves to the light of day, saw their opportunity. Their thoughts were fixed upon something more valuable than bread and wine, on plunder that could be carried away, turned into money, and so made to furnish [55] pleasure for many nights and days. After the bakeries, the wine shops; after the wine shops, when the courage of the crowd had been raised to the necessary pitch, the establishments of the jewellers and the bankers. This turn of affairs threatened, as will be seen, the life and property of an important personage whose acquaintance we made in my first chapter.
A DESPERATE DEFENCE
[56] MANASSEH, the dealer and speculator in wheat, had other irons in the fire. He had a jeweller’s shop on the Esquiline Hill, a quarter which, since the building of Maecenas’ great villa, had become fashionable; and he united with the business of a jeweller two occupations which could be conveniently carried on in the same premises, banking and money-lending. The combination was, as may be supposed, productive of handsome profits, though not without considerable risks. A fashionable lady would spend a couple of hours or so in looking through Manasseh’s stores, replenished almost day by day by consignments from compatriots settled in all the great markets of the East and the West. Not long after would come a visit from her husband, who would find himself at a loss how to settle the account. Manasseh was as ready to lend the money as he was to supply the jewels for which the money was to be paid. His prices [57] were high, as they had a right to be where everything sold was of the very best quality and indisputably genuine, and he charged about fifteen per cent on his loans; so he made handsome profits in both ways. Sometimes, of course, things did not turn out well. There were “sharks swimming about” in the Roman streets as there are in the Strand to-day; and Manasseh, for all his precautions, was sometimes bitten by them. But on the whole the Esquiline establishment, with its handsome shop front challenging the admiration of the world, and its quiet back door which borrowers found so convenient, flourished exceedingly.
It was now, however, to undergo one of the shocks which defy the acutest speculation, and against which no precautions can guard, an outbreak of popular violence. The rioters were pausing to take breath after sacking some half-dozen wine shops when some one cried, “How about the Jews?” The name was like a spark of fire dropped upon a heap of brushwood. It kindled an instantaneous fire. The Jews have never been liked by the people among whom they have settled. Their virtues and their vices have combined to make them unpopular. They are frugal, industrious and sober. It is only right that these qualities should have their reward; [58] that men who possess them should get better places, earn better wages, save more money, provide themselves with more comfortable homes than their neighbours who spend up to the last farthing of their earnings, and lose at least a tenth part of their working time in riotous excesses. But those who fall behind in the race of life do not feel amiably towards those who pass them, nor is their animosity lessened by the consciousness that their defeat is the result of their own folly. A more reasonable cause of the popular dislike of the Jew was to be found in the hardness and sharp dealing of which some of the race were actually guilty and of which all were accused. However it came about, and whether it was deserved or undeserved, the unpopularity of the Jews was an unquestionable fact. The suggestion of the name had accordingly an immediate effect. In a few minutes there was a general cry of “Down with the Jews.” It is probable that very few in the crowd had suffered anything at their hands, and that of these few scarcely one had got anything more than he amply deserved. But such cries may be uttered without any reason. The mass of the rioters had a vague feeling that things were in a bad way, and that they might improve if something were done. The leaders of the crowd had much [59] clearer ideas of what they wanted and of how it might be got. The Jews were excellent people to plunder. The booty would be great, the resistance probably weak, and the chances of impunity considerable. Jewish plaintiffs were not popular in the courts, and magistrates had been known to dismiss their complaints even when they were supported by unimpeachable testimony.