way, and led them to think that he was favorable; but when they came to plead their cause, they had a rude awakening.  Philo, who was not likely to appreciate the bitter humor of the situation, tells[77] with gravity that he expected that the emperor would hear the two contending parties in all proper judicial form, but that in fact he behaved like an insolent, overbearing tyrant.  The audience—­if it can be so called—­took place in the gardens of the palace, and the emperor dragged the unfortunate deputation after him about the place, while he gave orders to his gardeners, builders, and workmen.  Whenever they tried to put forward their arguments, he would rush ahead, enjoying the fright and dismay of his helpless victims.  At times he would stop to make some ribald and jeering remark, as, “Why don’t you eat pork, you fools?” at which the Egyptians following loudly applauded.  Philo and his comrades, half-dead with agony, could only pray; and in response to the prayer, says our moralizing chronicler, the emperor’s heart was turned to pity, so that he dismissed them without giving any hostile answer.  According to Josephus, he drove them away in a passion, and Philo had to cheer his companions by assuring them of the Divine aid.[78]

The affair was a pathetic farce, and the Jewish actors in it had a sorry time.  The people about the palace, taking their lead from the emperor, treated them as clowns, and hissed and mocked them, and even beat them.  The scene is somewhat revolting when one conjures up the picture of the aged Jewish philosopher being roughly handled by the set of ruffians and impudent slaves who surrounded a Roman emperor.  Happily Gaius jeered once too often in his mad life.  One Chaerea, a Roman of position, nursed an insult of the emperor, and stabbed him shortly after these events; and the world had the respite of a tolerably sane emperor before the crowning horror of Nero was let loose upon it.

The murder of the capricious tyrant released not only the Jews of Alexandria, but also the Jews of Palestine, from the burden of fear for their religion.  The order had been given to set up a bronze statue of the emperor in the temple; the Roman governor Petronius was averse to obeying the edict, but the emperor insisted.  King Agrippa, who had been but lately advanced by him to the kingdom of Judaea, interceded zealously on behalf of his people.  Philo gives us an account of this appeal by the Jewish king,[79] which recalls at every turn the scenes of the book of Esther.  We have again the fasting, the banquet, the emperor’s request, the appeal of the royal favorite for his people.  One higher critic, indeed, has been found to suggest that the Biblical book really relates Agrippa’s intercession at Rome disguised in the setting of a Persian story.  Agrippa secured for a short time the rescission of the fateful decree, but the capricious madman soon returned to his old frame of mind, and ordered his image to be set up immediately.  Had