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diff --git a/2145-h/2145-h.htm b/2145-h/2145-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..daf1a50 --- /dev/null +++ b/2145-h/2145-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,32987 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Ben-Hur | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +.big {font-size: 1.3em;} +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, by Lew Wallace</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Lew Wallace</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April, 2000 [eBook #2145]<br> +[Most recently updated: August 29, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST ***</div> + +<h1>Ben-Hur</h1> + +<h3>A Tale of the Christ</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Lew Wallace</h2> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +to<br> +THE WIFE OF MY YOUTH<br> +who<br> +still abides with me +</p> + +<hr> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book01"><b>BOOK FIRST</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I. Into the Desert</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II. Meeting of the Wise Men</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III. The Athenian Speaks—Faith</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV. Speech of the Hindoo—Love</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V. The Egyptian’s Story—Good Works</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI. The Joppa Gate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">VII. Typical Characters at the Joppa Gate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">VIII. Joseph and Mary Going to Bethlehem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">IX. The Cave at Bethlehem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">X. The Light in the Sky</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">XI. Christ is Born</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">XII. The Wise Men Arrive at Jerusalem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">XIII. The Witnesses before Herod</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">XIV. The Wise Men Find the Child</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book02"><b>BOOK SECOND</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">I. Jerusalem under the Romans</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">II. Ben-Hur and Messala</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">III. A Judean Home</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">IV. The Strange Things Ben-Hur Wants to Know</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">V. Rome and Israel—A Comparison</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">VI. The Accident to Gratus</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">VII. A Galley Slave</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book03"><b>BOOK THIRD</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">I. Quintus Arrius Goes to Sea</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">II. At the Oar</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">III. Arrius and Ben-Hur on Deck</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">IV. “No. 60”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">V. The Sea Fight</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">VI. Arrius Adopts Ben-Hur</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book04"><b>BOOK FOURTH</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">I. Ben-Hur Returns East</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">II. On the Orontes</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">III. The Demand on Simonides</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">IV. Simonides and Esther</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">V. The Grove of Daphne</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">VI. The Mulberries of Daphne</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">VII. The Stadium in the Grove</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">VIII. The Fountain of Castalia</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">IX. The Chariot Race Discussed</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">X. Ben-Hur Hears of Christ</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap38">XI. The Wise Servant and his Daughter</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap39">XII. A Roman Orgie</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap40">XIII. A Driver for Ilderim’s Arabs</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap41">XIV. The Dowar in the Orchard or Palms</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap42">XV. Balthasar Impresses Ben-Hur</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap43">XVI. Christ is Coming—Balthasar</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap44">XVII. The Kingdom—Spiritual or Political?</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book05"><b>BOOK FIFTH</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap45">I. Messala Doffs his Chaplet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap46">II. Ilderim’s Arabs under the Yoke</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap47">III. The Arts of Cleopatra</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap48">IV. Messala on Guard</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap49">V. Ilderim and Ben-Hur Deliberate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap50">VI. Training the Four</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap51">VII. Simonides Renders Account</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap52">VIII. Spiritual or Political?—Simonides Argues</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap53">IX. Esther and Ben-Hur</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap54">X. Posted for the Race</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap55">XI. Making the Wagers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap56">XII. The Circus</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap57">XIII. The Start</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap58">XIV. The Race</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap59">XV. The Invitation of Iras</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap60">XVI. In the Palace of Idernee</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book06"><b>BOOK SIXTH</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap61">I. The Tower of Antonia—Cell No. VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap62">II. The Lepers</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap63">III. Jerusalem Again</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap64">IV. Ben-Hur at his Father’s Gate</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap65">V. The Tomb Above the King’s Garden</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap66">VI. A Trick of Pilate’s—The Combat</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book07"><b>BOOK SEVENTH</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap67">I. Jerusalem Goes out to a Prophet</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap68">II. Nooning by the Pool—Iras</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap69">III. The Life of a Soul</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap70">IV. Ben-Hur Keeps Watch with Iras</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap71">V. At Bethabara</a><br><br></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#book08"><b>BOOK EIGHTH</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap72">I. Guests in the House of Hur</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap73">II. Ben-Hur Tells of the Nazarene</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap74">III. The Lepers Leave their Tomb</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap75">IV. The Miracle</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap76">V. Pilgrims to the Passover</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap77">VI. A Serpent of the Nile</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap78">VII. Ben-Hur Returns to Esther</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap79">VIII. Gethsemane—“Whom Seek Ye?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap80">IX. The Going to Calvary</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap81">X. The Crucifixion</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book01"></a>BOOK FIRST</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +The Jebel es Zubleh is a mountain fifty miles and more in length, and so narrow +that its tracery on the map gives it a likeness to a caterpillar crawling from +the south to the north. Standing on its red-and-white cliffs, and looking off +under the path of the rising sun, one sees only the Desert of Arabia, where the +east winds, so hateful to vinegrowers of Jericho, have kept their playgrounds +since the beginning. Its feet are well covered by sands tossed from the +Euphrates, there to lie, for the mountain is a wall to the pasture-lands of +Moab and Ammon on the west—lands which else had been of the desert a +part. +</p> + +<p> +The Arab has impressed his language upon everything south and east of Judea, +so, in his tongue, the old Jebel is the parent of numberless wadies which, +intersecting the Roman road—now a dim suggestion of what once it was, a +dusty path for Syrian pilgrims to and from Mecca—run their furrows, +deepening as they go, to pass the torrents of the rainy season into the Jordan, +or their last receptacle, the Dead Sea. Out of one of these wadies—or, +more particularly, out of that one which rises at the extreme end of the Jebel, +and, extending east of north, becomes at length the bed of the Jabbok +River—a traveller passed, going to the table-lands of the desert. To this +person the attention of the reader is first besought. +</p> + +<p> +Judged by his appearance, he was quite forty-five years old. His beard, once of +the deepest black, flowing broadly over his breast, was streaked with white. +His face was brown as a parched coffee-berry, and so hidden by a red +<i>kufiyeh</i> (as the kerchief of the head is at this day called by the +children of the desert) as to be but in part visible. Now and then he raised +his eyes, and they were large and dark. He was clad in the flowing garments so +universal in the East; but their style may not be described more particularly, +for he sat under a miniature tent, and rode a great white dromedary. +</p> + +<p> +It may be doubted if the people of the West ever overcome the impression made +upon them by the first view of a camel equipped and loaded for the desert. +Custom, so fatal to other novelties, affects this feeling but little. At the +end of long journeys with caravans, after years of residence with the Bedawin, +the Western-born, wherever they may be, will stop and wait the passing of the +stately brute. The charm is not in the figure, which not even love can make +beautiful; nor in the movement, the noiseless stepping, or the broad careen. As +is the kindness of the sea to a ship, so that of the desert to its creature. It +clothes him with all its mysteries; in such manner, too, that while we are +looking at him we are thinking of them: therein is the wonder. The animal which +now came out of the wady might well have claimed the customary homage. Its +color and height; its breadth of foot; its bulk of body, not fat, but overlaid +with muscle; its long, slender neck, of swanlike curvature; the head, wide +between the eyes, and tapering to a muzzle which a lady’s bracelet might +have almost clasped; its motion, step long and elastic, tread sure and +soundless—all certified its Syrian blood, old as the days of Cyrus, and +absolutely priceless. There was the usual bridle, covering the forehead with +scarlet fringe, and garnishing the throat with pendent brazen chains, each +ending with a tinkling silver bell; but to the bridle there was neither rein +for the rider nor strap for a driver. The furniture perched on the back was an +invention which with any other people than of the East would have made the +inventor renowned. It consisted of two wooden boxes, scarce four feet in +length, balanced so that one hung at each side; the inner space, softly lined +and carpeted, was arranged to allow the master to sit or lie half reclined; +over it all was stretched a green awning. Broad back and breast straps, and +girths, secured with countless knots and ties, held the device in place. In +such manner the ingenious sons of Cush had contrived to make comfortable the +sunburnt ways of the wilderness, along which lay their duty as often as their +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +When the dromedary lifted itself out of the last break of the wady, the +traveller had passed the boundary of El Belka, the ancient Ammon. It was +morning-time. Before him was the sun, half curtained in fleecy mist; before him +also spread the desert; not the realm of drifting sands, which was farther on, +but the region where the herbage began to dwarf; where the surface is strewn +with boulders of granite, and gray and brown stones, interspersed with +languishing acacias and tufts of camel-grass. The oak, bramble, and arbutus lay +behind, as if they had come to a line, looked over into the well-less waste and +crouched with fear. +</p> + +<p> +And now there was an end of path or road. More than ever the camel seemed +insensibly driven; it lengthened and quickened its pace, its head pointed +straight towards the horizon; through the wide nostrils it drank the wind in +great draughts. The litter swayed, and rose and fell like a boat in the waves. +Dried leaves in occasional beds rustled underfoot. Sometimes a perfume like +absinthe sweetened all the air. Lark and chat and rock-swallow leaped to wing, +and white partridges ran whistling and clucking out of the way. More rarely a +fox or a hyena quickened his gallop, to study the intruders at a safe distance. +Off to the right rose the hills of the Jebel, the pearl-gray veil resting upon +them changing momentarily into a purple which the sun would make matchless a +little later. Over their highest peaks a vulture sailed on broad wings into +widening circles. But of all these things the tenant under the green tent saw +nothing, or, at least, made no sign of recognition. His eyes were fixed and +dreamy. The going of the man, like that of the animal, was as one being led. +</p> + +<p> +For two hours the dromedary swung forward, keeping the trot steadily and the +line due east. In that time the traveller never changed his position, nor +looked to the right or left. On the desert, distance is not measured by miles +or leagues, but by the <i>saat</i>, or hour, and the <i>manzil</i>, or halt: +three and a half leagues fill the former, fifteen or twenty-five the latter; +but they are the rates for the common camel. A carrier of the genuine Syrian +stock can make three leagues easily. At full speed he overtakes the ordinary +winds. As one of the results of the rapid advance, the face of the landscape +underwent a change. The Jebel stretched along the western horizon, like a +pale-blue ribbon. A <i>tell</i>, or hummock of clay and cemented sand, arose +here and there. Now and then basaltic stones lifted their round crowns, +outposts of the mountain against the forces of the plain; all else, however, +was sand, sometimes smooth as the beaten beach, then heaped in rolling ridges; +here chopped waves, there long swells. So, too, the condition of the atmosphere +changed. The sun, high risen, had drunk his fill of dew and mist, and warmed +the breeze that kissed the wanderer under the awning; far and near he was +tinting the earth with faint milk-whiteness, and shimmering all the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours more passed without rest or deviation from the course. Vegetation +entirely ceased. The sand, so crusted on the surface that it broke into +rattling flakes at every step, held undisputed sway. The Jebel was out of view, +and there was no landmark visible. The shadow that before followed had now +shifted to the north, and was keeping even race with the objects which cast it; +and as there was no sign of halting, the conduct of the traveller became each +moment more strange. +</p> + +<p> +No one, be it remembered, seeks the desert for a pleasure-ground. Life and +business traverse it by paths along which the bones of things dead are strewn +as so many blazons. Such are the roads from well to well, from pasture to +pasture. The heart of the most veteran sheik beats quicker when he finds +himself alone in the pathless tracts. So the man with whom we are dealing could +not have been in search of pleasure; neither was his manner that of a fugitive; +not once did he look behind him. In such situations fear and curiosity are the +most common sensations; he was not moved by them. When men are lonely, they +stoop to any companionship; the dog becomes a comrade, the horse a friend, and +it is no shame to shower them with caresses and speeches of love. The camel +received no such token, not a touch, not a word. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly at noon the dromedary, of its own will, stopped, and uttered the cry or +moan, peculiarly piteous, by which its kind always protest against an overload, +and sometimes crave attention and rest. The master thereupon bestirred himself, +waking, as it were, from sleep. He threw the curtains of the <i>houdah</i> up, +looked at the sun, surveyed the country on every side long and carefully, as if +to identify an appointed place. Satisfied with the inspection, he drew a deep +breath and nodded, much as to say, “At last, at last!” A moment +after, he crossed his hands upon his breast, bowed his head, and prayed +silently. The pious duty done, he prepared to dismount. From his throat +proceeded the sound heard doubtless by the favorite camels of Job—<i>Ikh! +ikh!</i>—the signal to kneel. Slowly the animal obeyed, grunting the +while. The rider then put his foot upon the slender neck, and stepped upon the +sand. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +The man as now revealed was of admirable proportions, not so tall as powerful. +Loosening the silken rope which held the kufiyeh on his head, he brushed the +fringed folds back until his face was bare—a strong face, almost negro in +color; yet the low, broad forehead, aquiline nose, the outer corners of the +eyes turned slightly upward, the hair profuse, straight, harsh, of metallic +lustre, and falling to the shoulder in many plaits, were signs of origin +impossible to disguise. So looked the Pharaohs and the later Ptolemies; so +looked Mizraim, father of the Egyptian race. He wore the kamis, a white cotton +shirt tight-sleeved, open in front, extending to the ankles and embroidered +down the collar and breast, over which was thrown a brown woollen cloak, now, +as in all probability it was then, called the aba, an outer garment with long +skirt and short sleeves, lined inside with stuff of mixed cotton and silk, +edged all round with a margin of clouded yellow. His feet were protected by +sandals, attached by thongs of soft leather. A sash held the kamis to his +waist. What was very noticeable, considering he was alone, and that the desert +was the haunt of leopards and lions, and men quite as wild, he carried no arms, +not even the crooked stick used for guiding camels; wherefore we may at least +infer his errand peaceful, and that he was either uncommonly bold or under +extraordinary protection. +</p> + +<p> +The traveller’s limbs were numb, for the ride had been long and +wearisome; so he rubbed his hands and stamped his feet, and walked round the +faithful servant, whose lustrous eyes were closing in calm content with the cud +he had already found. Often, while making the circuit, he paused, and, shading +his eyes with his hands, examined the desert to the extremest verge of vision; +and always, when the survey was ended, his face clouded with disappointment, +slight, but enough to advise a shrewd spectator that he was there expecting +company, if not by appointment; at the same time, the spectator would have been +conscious of a sharpening of the curiosity to learn what the business could be +that required transaction in a place so far from civilized abode. +</p> + +<p> +However disappointed, there could be little doubt of the stranger’s +confidence in the coming of the expected company. In token thereof, he went +first to the litter, and, from the cot or box opposite the one he had occupied +in coming, produced a sponge and a small gurglet of water, with which he washed +the eyes, face, and nostrils of the camel; that done, from the same depository +he drew a circular cloth, red-and white-striped, a bundle of rods, and a stout +cane. The latter, after some manipulation, proved to be a cunning device of +lesser joints, one within another, which, when united together, formed a centre +pole higher than his head. When the pole was planted, and the rods set around +it, he spread the cloth over them, and was literally at home—a home much +smaller than the habitations of emir and sheik, yet their counterpart in all +other respects. From the litter again he brought a carpet or square rug, and +covered the floor of the tent on the side from the sun. That done, he went out, +and once more, and with greater care and more eager eyes, swept the encircling +country. Except a distant jackal, galloping across the plain, and an eagle +flying towards the Gulf of Akaba, the waste below, like the blue above it, was +lifeless. +</p> + +<p> +He turned to the camel, saying low, and in a tongue strange to the desert, +“We are far from home, O racer with the swiftest winds—we are far +from home, but God is with us. Let us be patient.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he took some beans from a pocket in the saddle, and put them in a bag made +to hang below the animal’s nose; and when he saw the relish with which +the good servant took to the food, he turned and again scanned the world of +sand, dim with the glow of the vertical sun. +</p> + +<p> +“They will come,” he said, calmly. “He that led me is leading +them. I will make ready.” +</p> + +<p> +From the pouches which lined the interior of the cot, and from a willow basket +which was part of its furniture, he brought forth materials for a meal: +platters close-woven of the fibres of palms; wine in small gurglets of skin; +mutton dried and smoked; stoneless shami, or Syrian pomegranates; dates of El +Shelebi, wondrous rich and grown in the nakhil, or palm orchards, of Central +Arabia; cheese, like David’s “slices of milk;” and leavened +bread from the city bakery—all which he carried and set upon the carpet +under the tent. As the final preparation, about the provisions he laid three +pieces of silk cloth, used among refined people of the East to cover the knees +of guests while at table—a circumstance significant of the number of +persons who were to partake of his entertainment—the number he was +awaiting. +</p> + +<p> +All was now ready. He stepped out: lo! in the east a dark speck on the face of +the desert. He stood as if rooted to the ground; his eyes dilated; his flesh +crept chilly, as if touched by something supernatural. The speck grew; became +large as a hand; at length assumed defined proportions. A little later, full +into view swung a duplication of his own dromedary, tall and white, and bearing +a houdah, the travelling litter of Hindostan. Then the Egyptian crossed his +hands upon his breast, and looked to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“God only is great!” he exclaimed, his eyes full of tears, his soul +in awe. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger drew nigh—at last stopped. Then he, too, seemed just waking. +He beheld the kneeling camel, the tent, and the man standing prayerfully at the +door. He crossed his hands, bent his head, and prayed silently; after which, in +a little while, he stepped from his camel’s neck to the sand, and +advanced towards the Egyptian, as did the Egyptian towards him. A moment they +looked at each other; then they embraced—that is, each threw his right +arm over the other’s shoulder, and the left round the side, placing his +chin first upon the left, then upon the right breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace be with thee, O servant of the true God!” the stranger said. +</p> + +<p> +“And to thee, O brother of the true faith!—to thee peace and +welcome,” the Egyptian replied, with fervor. +</p> + +<p> +The new-comer was tall and gaunt, with lean face, sunken eyes, white hair and +beard, and a complexion between the hue of cinnamon and bronze. He, too, was +unarmed. His costume was Hindostani; over the skull-cap a shawl was wound in +great folds, forming a turban; his body garments were in the style of the +Egyptian’s, except that the aba was shorter, exposing wide flowing +breeches gathered at the ankles. In place of sandals, his feet were clad in +half-slippers of red leather, pointed at the toes. Save the slippers, the +costume from head to foot was of white linen. The air of the man was high, +stately, severe. Visvamitra, the greatest of the ascetic heroes of the Iliad of +the East, had in him a perfect representative. He might have been called a Life +drenched with the wisdom of Brahma—Devotion Incarnate. Only in his eyes +was there proof of humanity; when he lifted his face from the Egyptian’s +breast, they were glistening with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“God only is great!” he exclaimed, when the embrace was finished. +</p> + +<p> +“And blessed are they that serve him!” the Egyptian answered, +wondering at the paraphrase of his own exclamation. “But let us +wait,” he added, “let us wait; for see, the other comes +yonder!” +</p> + +<p> +They looked to the north, where, already plain to view, a third camel, of the +whiteness of the others, came careening like a ship. They waited, standing +together—waited until the new-comer arrived, dismounted, and advanced +towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, O my brother!” he said, while embracing the Hindoo. +</p> + +<p> +And the Hindoo answered, “God’s will be done!” +</p> + +<p> +The last comer was all unlike his friends: his frame was slighter; his +complexion white; a mass of waving light hair was a perfect crown for his small +but beautiful head; the warmth of his dark-blue eyes certified a delicate mind, +and a cordial, brave nature. He was bareheaded and unarmed. Under the folds of +the Tyrian blanket which he wore with unconscious grace appeared a tunic, +short-sleeved and low-necked, gathered to the waist by a band, and reaching +nearly to the knee; leaving the neck, arms, and legs bare. Sandals guarded his +feet. Fifty years, probably more, had spent themselves upon him, with no other +effect, apparently, than to tinge his demeanor with gravity and temper his +words with forethought. The physical organization and the brightness of soul +were untouched. No need to tell the student from what kindred he was sprung; if +he came not himself from the groves of Athene’, his ancestry did. +</p> + +<p> +When his arms fell from the Egyptian, the latter said, with a tremulous voice, +“The Spirit brought me first; wherefore I know myself chosen to be the +servant of my brethren. The tent is set, and the bread is ready for the +breaking. Let me perform my office.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking each by the hand, he led them within, and removed their sandals and +washed their feet, and he poured water upon their hands, and dried them with +napkins. +</p> + +<p> +Then, when he had laved his own hands, he said, “Let us take care of +ourselves, brethren, as our service requires, and eat, that we may be strong +for what remains of the day’s duty. While we eat, we will each learn who +the others are, and whence they come, and how they are called.” +</p> + +<p> +He took them to the repast, and seated them so that they faced each other. +Simultaneously their heads bent forward, their hands crossed upon their +breasts, and, speaking together, they said aloud this simple grace: +</p> + +<p> +“Father of all—God!—what we have here is of thee; take our +thanks and bless us, that we may continue to do thy will.” +</p> + +<p> +With the last word they raised their eyes, and looked at each other in wonder. +Each had spoken in a language never before heard by the others; yet each +understood perfectly what was said. Their souls thrilled with divine emotion; +for by the miracle they recognized the Divine Presence. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +To speak in the style of the period, the meeting just described took place in +the year of Rome 747. The month was December, and winter reigned over all the +regions east of the Mediterranean. Such as ride upon the desert in this season +go not far until smitten with a keen appetite. The company under the little +tent were not exceptions to the rule. They were hungry, and ate heartily; and, +after the wine, they talked. +</p> + +<p> +“To a wayfarer in a strange land nothing is so sweet as to hear his name +on the tongue of a friend,” said the Egyptian, who assumed to be +president of the repast. “Before us lie many days of companionship. It is +time we knew each other. So, if it be agreeable, he who came last shall be +first to speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, slowly at first, like one watchful of himself, the Greek began: +</p> + +<p> +“What I have to tell, my brethren, is so strange that I hardly know where +to begin or what I may with propriety speak. I do not yet understand myself. +The most I am sure of is that I am doing a Master’s will, and that the +service is a constant ecstasy. When I think of the purpose I am sent to fulfil, +there is in me a joy so inexpressible that I know the will is +God’s.” +</p> + +<p> +The good man paused, unable to proceed, while the others, in sympathy with his +feelings, dropped their gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Far to the west of this,” he began again, “there is a land +which may never be forgotten; if only because the world is too much its debtor, +and because the indebtedness is for things that bring to men their purest +pleasures. I will say nothing of the arts, nothing of philosophy, of eloquence, +of poetry, of war: O my brethren, hers is the glory which must shine forever in +perfected letters, by which He we go to find and proclaim will be made known to +all the earth. The land I speak of is Greece. I am Gaspar, son of Cleanthes the +Athenian. +</p> + +<p> +“My people,” he continued, “were given wholly to study, and +from them I derived the same passion. It happens that two of our philosophers, +the very greatest of the many, teach, one the doctrine of a Soul in every man, +and its Immortality; the other the doctrine of One God, infinitely just. From +the multitude of subjects about which the schools were disputing, I separated +them, as alone worth the labor of solution; for I thought there was a relation +between God and the soul as yet unknown. On this theme the mind can reason to a +point, a dead, impassable wall; arrived there, all that remains is to stand and +cry aloud for help. So I did; but no voice came to me over the wall. In +despair, I tore myself from the cities and the schools.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words a grave smile of approval lighted the gaunt face of the Hindoo. +</p> + +<p> +“In the northern part of my country—in Thessaly,” the Greek +proceeded to say, “there is a mountain famous as the home of the gods, +where Theus, whom my countrymen believe supreme, has his abode; Olympus is its +name. Thither I betook myself. I found a cave in a hill where the mountain, +coming from the west, bends to the southeast; there I dwelt, giving myself up +to meditation—no, I gave myself up to waiting for what every breath was a +prayer—for revelation. Believing in God, invisible yet supreme, I also +believed it possible so to yearn for him with all my soul that he would take +compassion and give me answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he did—he did!” exclaimed the Hindoo, lifting his hands +from the silken cloth upon his lap. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me, brethren,” said the Greek, calming himself with an +effort. “The door of my hermitage looks over an arm of the sea, over the +Thermaic Gulf. One day I saw a man flung overboard from a ship sailing by. He +swam ashore. I received and took care of him. He was a Jew, learned in the +history and laws of his people; and from him I came to know that the God of my +prayers did indeed exist; and had been for ages their lawmaker, ruler, and +king. What was that but the Revelation I dreamed of? My faith had not been +fruitless; God answered me!” +</p> + +<p> +“As he does all who cry to him with such faith,” said the Hindoo. +</p> + +<p> +“But, alas!” the Egyptian added, “how few are there wise +enough to know when he answers them!” +</p> + +<p> +“That was not all,” the Greek continued. “The man so sent to +me told me more. He said the prophets who, in the ages which followed the first +revelation, walked and talked with God, declared he would come again. He gave +me the names of the prophets, and from the sacred books quoted their very +language. He told me, further, that the second coming was at hand—was +looked for momentarily in Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +The Greek paused, and the brightness of his countenance faded. +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” he said, after a little—“it is true the +man told me that as God and the revelation of which he spoke had been for the +Jews alone, so it would be again. He that was to come should be King of the +Jews. ‘Had he nothing for the rest of the world?’ I asked. +‘No,’ was the answer, given in a proud voice—‘No, we +are his chosen people.’ The answer did not crush my hope. Why should such +a God limit his love and benefaction to one land, and, as it were, to one +family? I set my heart upon knowing. At last I broke through the man’s +pride, and found that his fathers had been merely chosen servants to keep the +Truth alive, that the world might at last know it and be saved. When the Jew +was gone, and I was alone again, I chastened my soul with a new +prayer—that I might be permitted to see the King when he was come, and +worship him. One night I sat by the door of my cave trying to get nearer the +mysteries of my existence, knowing which is to know God; suddenly, on the sea +below me, or rather in the darkness that covered its face, I saw a star begin +to burn; slowly it arose and drew nigh, and stood over the hill and above my +door, so that its light shone full upon me. I fell down, and slept, and in my +dream I heard a voice say: +</p> + +<p> +“‘O Gaspar! Thy faith hath conquered! Blessed art thou! With two +others, come from the uttermost parts of the earth, thou shalt see Him that is +promised, and be a witness for him, and the occasion of testimony in his +behalf. In the morning arise, and go meet them, and keep trust in the Spirit +that shall guide thee.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And in the morning I awoke with the Spirit as a light within me +surpassing that of the sun. I put off my hermit’s garb, and dressed +myself as of old. From a hiding-place I took the treasure which I had brought +from the city. A ship went sailing past. I hailed it, was taken aboard, and +landed at Antioch. There I bought the camel and his furniture. Through the +gardens and orchards that enamel the banks of the Orontes, I journeyed to +Emesa, Damascus, Bostra, and Philadelphia; thence hither. And so, O brethren, +you have my story. Let me now listen to you.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +The Egyptian and the Hindoo looked at each other; the former waved his hand; +the latter bowed, and began: +</p> + +<p> +“Our brother has spoken well. May my words be as wise.” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off, reflected a moment, then resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“You may know me, brethren, by the name of Melchior. I speak to you in a +language which, if not the oldest in the world, was at least the soonest to be +reduced to letters—I mean the Sanscrit of India. I am a Hindoo by birth. +My people were the first to walk in the fields of knowledge, first to divide +them, first to make them beautiful. Whatever may hereafter befall, the four +Vedas must live, for they are the primal fountains of religion and useful +intelligence. From them were derived the Upa-Vedas, which, delivered by Brahma, +treat of medicine, archery, architecture, music, and the four-and-sixty +mechanical arts; the Ved-Angas, revealed by inspired saints, and devoted to +astronomy, grammar, prosody, pronunciation, charms and incantations, religious +rites and ceremonies; the Up-Angas, written by the sage Vyasa, and given to +cosmogony, chronology, and geography; therein also are the Ramayana and the +Mahabharata, heroic poems, designed for the perpetuation of our gods and +demi-gods. Such, O brethren, are the Great Shastras, or books of sacred +ordinances. They are dead to me now; yet through all time they will serve to +illustrate the budding genius of my race. They were promises of quick +perfection. Ask you why the promises failed? Alas! the books themselves closed +all the gates of progress. Under pretext of care for the creature, their +authors imposed the fatal principle that a man must not address himself to +discovery or invention, as Heaven had provided him all things needful. When +that condition became a sacred law, the lamp of Hindoo genius was let down a +well, where ever since it has lighted narrow walls and bitter waters. +</p> + +<p> +“These allusions, brethren, are not from pride, as you will understand +when I tell you that the Shastras teach a Supreme God called Brahm; also, that +the Puranas, or sacred poems of the Up-Angas, tell us of Virtue and Good Works, +and of the Soul. So, if my brother will permit the saying”—the +speaker bowed deferentially to the Greek—“ages before his people +were known, the two great ideas, God and the Soul, had absorbed all the forces +of the Hindoo mind. In further explanation let me say that Brahm is taught, by +the same sacred books, as a Triad—Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. Of these, +Brahma is said to have been the author of our race; which, in course of +creation, he divided into four castes. First, he peopled the worlds below and +the heavens above; next, he made the earth ready for terrestrial spirits; then +from his mouth proceeded the Brahman caste, nearest in likeness to himself, +highest and noblest, sole teachers of the Vedas, which at the same time flowed +from his lips in finished state, perfect in all useful knowledge. From his arms +next issued the Kshatriya, or warriors; from his breast, the seat of life, came +the Vaisya, or producers—shepherds, farmers, merchants; from his foot, in +sign of degradation, sprang the Sudra, or serviles, doomed to menial duties for +the other classes—serfs, domestics, laborers, artisans. Take notice, +further, that the law, so born with them, forbade a man of one caste becoming a +member of another; the Brahman could not enter a lower order; if he violated +the laws of his own grade, he became an outcast, lost to all but outcasts like +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point, the imagination of the Greek, flashing forward upon all the +consequences of such a degradation, overcame his eager attention, and he +exclaimed, “In such a state, O brethren, what mighty need of a loving +God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” added the Egyptian, “of a loving God like ours.” +</p> + +<p> +The brows of the Hindoo knit painfully; when the emotion was spent, he +proceeded, in a softened voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I was born a Brahman. My life, consequently, was ordered down to its +least act, its last hour. My first draught of nourishment; the giving me my +compound name; taking me out the first time to see the sun; investing me with +the triple thread by which I became one of the twice-born; my induction into +the first order—were all celebrated with sacred texts and rigid +ceremonies. I might not walk, eat, drink, or sleep without danger of violating +a rule. And the penalty, O brethren, the penalty was to my soul! According to +the degrees of omission, my soul went to one of the heavens—Indra’s +the lowest, Brahma’s the highest; or it was driven back to become the +life of a worm, a fly, a fish, or a brute. The reward for perfect observance +was Beatitude, or absorption into the being of Brahm, which was not existence +as much as absolute rest.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hindoo gave himself a moment’s thought; proceeding, he said: +“The part of a Brahman’s life called the first order is his student +life. When I was ready to enter the second order—that is to say, when I +was ready to marry and become a householder—I questioned everything, even +Brahm; I was a heretic. From the depths of the well I had discovered a light +above, and yearned to go up and see what all it shone upon. At last—ah, +with what years of toil!—I stood in the perfect day, and beheld the +principle of life, the element of religion, the link between the soul and +God—Love!” +</p> + +<p> +The shrunken face of the good man kindled visibly, and he clasped his hands +with force. A silence ensued, during which the others looked at him, the Greek +through tears. At length he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“The happiness of love is in action; its test is what one is willing to +do for others. I could not rest. Brahm had filled the world with so much +wretchedness. The Sudra appealed to me, so did the countless devotees and +victims. The island of Ganga Lagor lies where the sacred waters of the Ganges +disappear in the Indian Ocean. Thither I betook myself. In the shade of the +temple built there to the sage Kapila, in a union of prayers with the disciples +whom the sanctified memory of the holy man keeps around his house, I thought to +find rest. But twice every year came pilgrimages of Hindoos seeking the +purification of the waters. Their misery strengthened my love. Against its +impulse to speak I clenched my jaws; for one word against Brahm or the Triad or +the Shastras would doom me; one act of kindness to the outcast Brahmans who now +and then dragged themselves to die on the burning sands—a blessing said, +a cup of water given—and I became one of them, lost to family, country, +privileges, caste. The love conquered! I spoke to the disciples in the temple; +they drove me out. I spoke to the pilgrims; they stoned me from the island. On +the highways I attempted to preach; my hearers fled from me, or sought my life. +In all India, finally, there was not a place in which I could find peace or +safety—not even among the outcasts, for, though fallen, they were still +believers in Brahm. In my extremity, I looked for a solitude in which to hide +from all but God. I followed the Ganges to its source, far up in the Himalayas. +When I entered the pass at Hurdwar, where the river, in unstained purity, leaps +to its course through the muddy lowlands, I prayed for my race, and thought +myself lost to them forever. Through gorges, over cliffs, across glaciers, by +peaks that seemed star-high, I made my way to the Lang Tso, a lake of +marvellous beauty, asleep at the feet of the Tise Gangri, the Gurla, and the +Kailas Parbot, giants which flaunt their crowns of snow everlastingly in the +face of the sun. There, in the centre of the earth, where the Indus, Ganges, +and Brahmapootra rise to run their different courses; where mankind took up +their first abode, and separated to replete the world, leaving Balk, the mother +of cities, to attest the great fact; where Nature, gone back to its primeval +condition, and secure in its immensities, invites the sage and the exile, with +promise of safety to the one and solitude to the other—there I went to +abide alone with God, praying, fasting, waiting for death.” +</p> + +<p> +Again the voice fell, and the bony hands met in a fervent clasp. +</p> + +<p> +“One night I walked by the shores of the lake, and spoke to the listening +silence, ‘When will God come and claim his own? Is there to be no +redemption?’ Suddenly a light began to glow tremulously out on the water; +soon a star arose, and moved towards me, and stood overhead. The brightness +stunned me. While I lay upon the ground, I heard a voice of infinite sweetness +say, ‘Thy love hath conquered. Blessed art thou, O son of India! The +redemption is at hand. With two others, from far quarters of the earth, thou +shalt see the Redeemer, and be a witness that he hath come. In the morning +arise, and go meet them; and put all thy trust in the Spirit which shall guide +thee.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And from that time the light has stayed with me; so I knew it was the +visible presence of the Spirit. In the morning I started to the world by the +way I had come. In a cleft of the mountain I found a stone of vast worth, which +I sold in Hurdwar. By Lahore, and Cabool, and Yezd, I came to Ispahan. There I +bought the camel, and thence was led to Bagdad, not waiting for caravans. Alone +I traveled, fearless, for the Spirit was with me, and is with me yet. What +glory is ours, O brethren! We are to see the Redeemer—to speak to +him—to worship him! I am done.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +The vivacious Greek broke forth in expressions of joy and congratulations; +after which the Egyptian said, with characteristic gravity: +</p> + +<p> +“I salute you, my brother. You have suffered much, and I rejoice in your +triumph. If you are both pleased to hear me, I will now tell you who I am, and +how I came to be called. Wait for me a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out and tended the camels; coming back, he resumed his seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Your words, brethren, were of the Spirit,” he said, in +commencement; “and the Spirit gives me to understand them. You each spoke +particularly of your countries; in that there was a great object, which I will +explain; but to make the interpretation complete, let me first speak of myself +and my people. I am Balthasar the Egyptian.” +</p> + +<p> +The last words were spoken quietly, but with so much dignity that both +listeners bowed to the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“There are many distinctions I might claim for my race,” he +continued; “but I will content myself with one. History began with us. We +were the first to perpetuate events by records kept. So we have no traditions; +and instead of poetry, we offer you certainty. On the facades of palaces and +temples, on obelisks, on the inner walls of tombs, we wrote the names of our +kings, and what they did; and to the delicate papyri we intrusted the wisdom of +our philosophers and the secrets of our religion—all the secrets but one, +whereof I will presently speak. Older than the Vedas of Para-Brahm or the +Up-Angas of Vyasa, O Melchior; older than the songs of Homer or the metaphysics +of Plato, O my Gaspar; older than the sacred books or kings of the people of +China, or those of Siddartha, son of the beautiful Maya; older than the Genesis +of Mosche the Hebrew—oldest of human records are the writings of Menes, +our first king.” Pausing an instant, he fixed his large eves kindly upon +the Greek, saying, “In the youth of Hellas, who, O Gaspar, were the +teachers of her teachers?” +</p> + +<p> +The Greek bowed, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“By those records,” Balthasar continued, “we know that when +the fathers came from the far East, from the region of the birth of the three +sacred rivers, from the centre of the earth—the Old Iran of which you +spoke, O Melchior—came bringing with them the history of the world before +the Flood, and of the Flood itself, as given to the Aryans by the sons of Noah, +they taught God, the Creator and the Beginning, and the Soul, deathless as God. +When the duty which calls us now is happily done, if you choose to go with me, +I will show you the sacred library of our priesthood; among others, the Book of +the Dead, in which is the ritual to be observed by the soul after Death has +despatched it on its journey to judgment. The ideas—God and the Immortal +Soul—were borne to Mizraim over the desert, and by him to the banks of +the Nile. They were then in their purity, easy of understanding, as what God +intends for our happiness always is; so, also, was the first worship—a +song and a prayer natural to a soul joyous, hopeful, and in love with its +Maker.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the Greek threw up his hands, exclaiming, “Oh! the light deepens +within me!” +</p> + +<p> +“And in me!” said the Hindoo, with equal fervor. +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian regarded them benignantly, then went on, saying, “Religion +is merely the law which binds man to his Creator: in purity it has but these +elements—God, the Soul, and their Mutual Recognition; out of which, when +put in practise, spring Worship, Love, and Reward. This law, like all others of +divine origin—like that, for instance, which binds the earth to the +sun—was perfected in the beginning by its Author. Such, my brothers, was +the religion of the first family; such was the religion of our father Mizraim, +who could not have been blind to the formula of creation, nowhere so +discernible as in the first faith and the earliest worship. Perfection is God; +simplicity is perfection. The curse of curses is that men will not let truths +like these alone.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, as if considering in what manner to continue. +</p> + +<p> +“Many nations have loved the sweet waters of the Nile,” he said +next; “the Ethiopian, the Pali-Putra, the Hebrew, the Assyrian, the +Persian, the Macedonian, the Roman—of whom all, except the Hebrew, have +at one time or another been its masters. So much coming and going of peoples +corrupted the old Mizraimic faith. The Valley of Palms became a Valley of Gods. +The Supreme One was divided into eight, each personating a creative principle +in nature, with Ammon-Re at the head. Then Isis and Osiris, and their circle, +representing water, fire, air, and other forces, were invented. Still the +multiplication went on until we had another order, suggested by human +qualities, such as strength, knowledge, love, and the like.” +</p> + +<p> +“In all which there was the old folly!” cried the Greek, +impulsively. “Only the things out of reach remain as they came to +us.” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian bowed, and proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“Yet a little further, O my brethren, a little further, before I come to +myself. What we go to will seem all the holier of comparison with what is and +has been. The records show that Mizraim found the Nile in possession of the +Ethiopians, who were spread thence through the African desert; a people of +rich, fantastic genius, wholly given to the worship of nature. The Poetic +Persian sacrificed to the sun, as the completest image of Ormuzd, his God; the +devout children of the far East carved their deities out of wood and ivory; but +the Ethiopian, without writing, without books, without mechanical faculty of +any kind, quieted his soul by the worship of animals, birds, and insects, +holding the cat sacred to Re, the bull to Isis, the beetle to Pthah. A long +struggle against their rude faith ended in its adoption as the religion of the +new empire. Then rose the mighty monuments that cumber the river-bank and the +desert—obelisk, labyrinth, pyramid, and tomb of king, blent with tomb of +crocodile. Into such deep debasement, O brethren, the sons of the Aryan +fell!” +</p> + +<p> +Here, for the first time, the calmness of the Egyptian forsook him: though his +countenance remained impassive, his voice gave way. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not too much despise my countrymen,” he began again. +“They did not all forget God. I said awhile ago, you may remember, that +to papyri we intrusted all the secrets of our religion except one; of that I +will now tell you. We had as king once a certain Pharaoh, who lent himself to +all manner of changes and additions. To establish the new system, he strove to +drive the old entirely out of mind. The Hebrews then dwelt with us as slaves. +They clung to their God; and when the persecution became intolerable, they were +delivered in a manner never to be forgotten. I speak from the records now. +Mosche, himself a Hebrew, came to the palace, and demanded permission for the +slaves, then millions in number, to leave the country. The demand was in the +name of the Lord God of Israel. Pharaoh refused. Hear what followed. First, all +the water, that in the lakes and rivers, like that in the wells and vessels, +turned to blood. Yet the monarch refused. Then frogs came up and covered all +the land. Still he was firm. Then Mosche threw ashes in the air, and a plague +attacked the Egyptians. Next, all the cattle, except of the Hebrews, were +struck dead. Locusts devoured the green things of the valley. At noon the day +was turned into a darkness so thick that lamps would not burn. Finally, in the +night all the first-born of the Egyptians died; not even Pharaoh’s +escaped. Then he yielded. But when the Hebrews were gone he followed them with +his army. At the last moment the sea was divided, so that the fugitives passed +it dry-shod. When the pursuers drove in after them, the waves rushed back and +drowned horse, foot, charioteers, and king. You spoke of revelation, my +Gaspar—” +</p> + +<p> +The blue eyes of the Greek sparkled. +</p> + +<p> +“I had the story from the Jew,” he cried. “You confirm it, O +Balthasar!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but through me Egypt speaks, not Mosche. I interpret the marbles. +The priests of that time wrote in their way what they witnessed, and the +revelation has lived. So I come to the one unrecorded secret. In my country, +brethren, we have, from the day of the unfortunate Pharaoh, always had two +religions—one private, the other public; one of many gods, practised by +the people; the other of one God, cherished only by the priesthood. Rejoice +with me, O brothers! All the trampling by the many nations, all the harrowing +by kings, all the inventions of enemies, all the changes of time, have been in +vain. Like a seed under the mountains waiting its hour, the glorious Truth has +lived; and this—this is its day!” +</p> + +<p> +The wasted frame of the Hindoo trembled with delight, and the Greek cried +aloud, +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me the very desert is singing.” +</p> + +<p> +From a gurglet of water near-by the Egyptian took a draught, and proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“I was born at Alexandria, a prince and a priest, and had the education +usual to my class. But very early I became discontented. Part of the faith +imposed was that after death upon the destruction of the body, the soul at once +began its former progression from the lowest up to humanity, the highest and +last existence; and that without reference to conduct in the mortal life. When +I heard of the Persian’s Realm of Light, his Paradise across the bridge +Chinevat, where only the good go, the thought haunted me; insomuch that in the +day, as in the night, I brooded over the comparative ideas Eternal +Transmigration and Eternal Life in Heaven. If, as my teacher taught, God was +just, why was there no distinction between the good and the bad? At length it +became clear to me, a certainty, a corollary of the law to which I reduced pure +religion, that death was only the point of separation at which the wicked are +left or lost, and the faithful rise to a higher life; not the nirvana of +Buddha, or the negative rest of Brahma, O Melchior; nor the better condition in +hell, which is all of Heaven allowed by the Olympic faith, O Gaspar; but +life—life active, joyous, everlasting—LIFE WITH GOD! The discovery +led to another inquiry. Why should the Truth be longer kept a secret for the +selfish solace of the priesthood? The reason for the suppression was gone. +Philosophy had at least brought us toleration. In Egypt we had Rome instead of +Rameses. One day, in the Brucheium, the most splendid and crowded quarter of +Alexandria, I arose and preached. The East and West contributed to my audience. +Students going to the Library, priests from the Serapeion, idlers from the +Museum, patrons of the race-course, countrymen from the Rhacotis—a +multitude—stopped to hear me. I preached God, the Soul, Right and Wrong, +and Heaven, the reward of a virtuous life. You, O Melchior, were stoned; my +auditors first wondered, then laughed. I tried again; they pelted me with +epigrams, covered my God with ridicule, and darkened my Heaven with mockery. +Not to linger needlessly, I fell before them.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hindoo here drew a long sigh, as he said, “The enemy of man is man, +my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar lapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I gave much thought to finding the cause of my failure, and at last +succeeded,” he said, upon beginning again. “Up the river, a +day’s journey from the city, there is a village of herdsmen and +gardeners. I took a boat and went there. In the evening I called the people +together, men and women, the poorest of the poor. I preached to them exactly as +I had preached in the Brucheium. They did not laugh. Next evening I spoke +again, and they believed and rejoiced, and carried the news abroad. At the +third meeting a society was formed for prayer. I returned to the city then. +Drifting down the river, under the stars, which never seemed so bright and so +near, I evolved this lesson: To begin a reform, go not into the places of the +great and rich; go rather to those whose cups of happiness are empty—to +the poor and humble. And then I laid a plan and devoted my life. As a first +step, I secured my vast property, so that the income would be certain, and +always at call for the relief of the suffering. From that day, O brethren, I +travelled up and down the Nile, in the villages, and to all the tribes, +preaching One God, a righteous life, and reward in Heaven. I have done +good—it does not become me to say how much. I also know that part of the +world to be ripe for the reception of Him we go to find.” +</p> + +<p> +A flush suffused the swarthy cheek of the speaker; but he overcame the feeling, +and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“The years so given, O my brothers, were troubled by one +thought—When I was gone, what would become of the cause I had started? +Was it to end with me? I had dreamed many times of organization as a fitting +crown for my work. To hide nothing from you, I had tried to effect it, and +failed. Brethren, the world is now in the condition that, to restore the old +Mizraimic faith, the reformer must have a more than human sanction; he must not +merely come in God’s name, he must have the proofs subject to his word; +he must demonstrate all he says, even God. So preoccupied is the mind with +myths and systems; so much do false deities crowd every place—earth, air, +sky; so have they become of everything a part, that return to the first +religion can only be along bloody paths, through fields of persecution; that is +to say, the converts must be willing to die rather than recant. And who in this +age can carry the faith of men to such a point but God himself? To redeem the +race—I do not mean to destroy it—to REDEEM the race, he must make +himself once more manifest; HE MUST COME IN PERSON.” +</p> + +<p> +Intense emotion seized the three. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we not going to find him?” exclaimed the Greek. +</p> + +<p> +“You understand why I failed in the attempt to organize,” said the +Egyptian, when the spell was past. “I had not the sanction. To know that +my work must be lost made me intolerably wretched. I believed in prayer, and to +make my appeals pure and strong, like you, my brethren, I went out of the +beaten ways, I went where man had not been, where only God was. Above the fifth +cataract, above the meeting of rivers in Sennar, up the Bahr el Abiad, into the +far unknown of Africa, I went. There, in the morning, a mountain blue as the +sky flings a cooling shadow wide over the western desert, and, with its +cascades of melted snow, feeds a broad lake nestling at its base on the east. +The lake is the mother of the great river. For a year and more the mountain +gave me a home. The fruit of the palm fed my body, prayer my spirit. One night +I walked in the orchard close by the little sea. ‘The world is dying. +When wilt thou come? Why may I not see the redemption, O God?’ So I +prayed. The glassy water was sparkling with stars. One of them seemed to leave +its place, and rise to the surface, where it became a brilliancy burning to the +eyes. Then it moved towards me, and stood over my head, apparently in +hand’s reach. I fell down and hid my face. A voice, not of the earth, +said, ‘Thy good works have conquered. Blessed art thou, O son of Mizraim! +The redemption cometh. With two others, from the remotenesses of the world, +thou shalt see the Saviour, and testify for him. In the morning arise, and go +meet them. And when ye have all come to the holy city of Jerusalem, ask of the +people, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in +the East and are sent to worship him. Put all thy trust in the Spirit which +will guide thee.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And the light became an inward illumination not to be doubted, and has +stayed with me, a governor and a guide. It led me down the river to Memphis, +where I made ready for the desert. I bought my camel, and came hither without +rest, by way of Suez and Kufileh, and up through the lands of Moab and Ammon. +God is with us, O my brethren!” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, and thereupon, with a prompting not their own, they all arose, and +looked at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“I said there was a purpose in the particularity with which we described +our people and their histories,” so the Egyptian proceeded. “He we +go to find was called ‘King of the Jews;’ by that name we are +bidden to ask for him. But, now that we have met, and heard from each other, we +may know him to be the Redeemer, not of the Jews alone, but of all the nations +of the earth. The patriarch who survived the Flood had with him three sons, and +their families, by whom the world was repeopled. From the old Aryana-Vaejo, the +well-remembered Region of Delight in the heart of Asia, they parted. India and +the far East received the children of the first; the descendant of the +youngest, through the North, streamed into Europe; those of the second +overflowed the deserts about the Red Sea, passing into Africa; and though most +of the latter are yet dwellers in shifting tents, some of them became builders +along the Nile.” +</p> + +<p> +By a simultaneous impulse the three joined hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Could anything be more divinely ordered?” Balthasar continued. +“When we have found the Lord, the brothers, and all the generations that +have succeeded them, will kneel to him in homage with us. And when we part to +go our separate ways, the world will have learned a new lesson—that +Heaven may be won, not by the sword, not by human wisdom, but by Faith, Love, +and Good Works.” +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, broken by sighs and sanctified with tears; for the joy that +filled them might not be stayed. It was the unspeakable joy of souls on the +shores of the River of Life, resting with the Redeemed in God’s presence. +</p> + +<p> +Presently their hands fell apart, and together they went out of the tent. The +desert was still as the sky. The sun was sinking fast. The camels slept. +</p> + +<p> +A little while after, the tent was struck, and, with the remains of the repast, +restored to the cot; then the friends mounted, and set out single file, led by +the Egyptian. Their course was due west, into the chilly night. The camels +swung forward in steady trot, keeping the line and the intervals so exactly +that those following seemed to tread in the tracks of the leader. The riders +spoke not once. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by the moon came up. And as the three tall white figures sped, with +soundless tread, through the opalescent light, they appeared like specters +flying from hateful shadows. Suddenly, in the air before them, not farther up +than a low hill-top flared a lambent flame; as they looked at it, the +apparition contracted into a focus of dazzling lustre. Their hearts beat fast; +their souls thrilled; and they shouted as with one voice, “The Star! the +Star! God is with us!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +In an aperture of the western wall of Jerusalem hang the “oaken +valves” called the Bethlehem or Joppa Gate. The area outside of them is +one of the notable places of the city. Long before David coveted Zion there was +a citadel there. When at last the son of Jesse ousted the Jebusite, and began +to build, the site of the citadel became the northwest corner of the new wall, +defended by a tower much more imposing than the old one. The location of the +gate, however, was not disturbed, for the reasons, most likely, that the roads +which met and merged in front of it could not well be transferred to any other +point, while the area outside had become a recognized market-place. In +Solomon’s day there was great traffic at the locality, shared in by +traders from Egypt and the rich dealers from Tyre and Sidon. Nearly three +thousand years have passed, and yet a kind of commerce clings to the spot. A +pilgrim wanting a pin or a pistol, a cucumber or a camel, a house or a horse, a +loan or a lentil, a date or a dragoman, a melon or a man, a dove or a donkey, +has only to inquire for the article at the Joppa Gate. Sometimes the scene is +quite animated, and then it suggests, What a place the old market must have +been in the days of Herod the Builder! And to that period and that market the +reader is now to be transferred. +</p> + +<p> +Following the Hebrew system, the meeting of the wise men described in the +preceding chapters took place in the afternoon of the twenty-fifth day of the +third month of the year; that is to say, on the twenty-fifth day of December. +The year was the second of the 193d Olympiad, or the 747th of Rome; the +sixty-seventh of Herod the Great, and the thirty-fifth of his reign; the fourth +before the beginning of the Christian era. The hours of the day, by Judean +custom, begin with the sun, the first hour being the first after sunrise; so, +to be precise; the market at the Joppa Gate during the first hour of the day +stated was in full session, and very lively. The massive valves had been wide +open since dawn. Business, always aggressive, had pushed through the arched +entrance into a narrow lane and court, which, passing by the walls of the great +tower, conducted on into the city. As Jerusalem is in the hill country, the +morning air on this occasion was not a little crisp. The rays of the sun, with +their promise of warmth, lingered provokingly far up on the battlements and +turrets of the great piles about, down from which fell the crooning of pigeons +and the whir of the flocks coming and going. +</p> + +<p> +As a passing acquaintance with the people of the Holy City, strangers as well +as residents, will be necessary to an understanding of some of the pages which +follow, it will be well to stop at the gate and pass the scene in review. +Better opportunity will not offer to get sight of the populace who will +afterwhile go forward in a mood very different from that which now possesses +them. +</p> + +<p> +The scene is at first one of utter confusion—confusion of action, sounds, +colors, and things. It is especially so in the lane and court. The ground there +is paved with broad unshaped flags, from which each cry and jar and hoof-stamp +arises to swell the medley that rings and roars up between the solid impending +walls. A little mixing with the throng, however, a little familiarity with the +business going on, will make analysis possible. +</p> + +<p> +Here stands a donkey, dozing under panniers full of lentils, beans, onions, and +cucumbers, brought fresh from the gardens and terraces of Galilee. When not +engaged in serving customers, the master, in a voice which only the initiated +can understand, cries his stock. Nothing can be simpler than his +costume—sandals, and an unbleached, undyed blanket, crossed over one +shoulder and girt round the waist. Near-by, and far more imposing and +grotesque, though scarcely as patient as the donkey, kneels a camel, raw-boned, +rough, and gray, with long shaggy tufts of fox-colored hair under its throat, +neck, and body, and a load of boxes and baskets curiously arranged upon an +enormous saddle. The owner is an Egyptian, small, lithe, and of a complexion +which has borrowed a good deal from the dust of the roads and the sands of the +desert. He wears a faded tarbooshe, a loose gown, sleeveless, unbelted, and +dropping from the neck to the knee. His feet are bare. The camel, restless +under the load, groans and occasionally shows his teeth; but the man paces +indifferently to and fro, holding the driving-strap, and all the time +advertising his fruits fresh from the orchards of the Kedron—grapes, +dates, figs, apples, and pomegranates. +</p> + +<p> +At the corner where the lane opens out into the court, some women sit with +their backs against the gray stones of the wall. Their dress is that common to +the humbler classes of the country—a linen frock extending the full +length of the person, loosely gathered at the waist, and a veil or wimple broad +enough, after covering the head, to wrap the shoulders. Their merchandise is +contained in a number of earthen jars, such as are still used in the East for +bringing water from the wells, and some leathern bottles. Among the jars and +bottles, rolling upon the stony floor, regardless of the crowd and cold, often +in danger but never hurt, play half a dozen half-naked children, their brown +bodies, jetty eyes, and thick black hair attesting the blood of Israel. +Sometimes, from under the wimples, the mothers look up, and in the vernacular +modestly bespeak their trade: in the bottles “honey of grapes,” in +the jars “strong drink.” Their entreaties are usually lost in the +general uproar, and they fare illy against the many competitors: brawny fellows +with bare legs, dirty tunics, and long beards, going about with bottles lashed +to their backs, and shouting “Honey of wine! Grapes of En-Gedi!” +When a customer halts one of them, round comes the bottle, and, upon lifting +the thumb from the nozzle, out into the ready cup gushes the deep-red blood of +the luscious berry. +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely less blatant are the dealers in birds—doves, ducks, and +frequently the singing bulbul, or nightingale, most frequently pigeons; and +buyers, receiving them from the nets, seldom fail to think of the perilous life +of the catchers, bold climbers of the cliffs; now hanging with hand and foot to +the face of the crag, now swinging in a basket far down the mountain fissure. +</p> + +<p> +Blent with peddlers of jewelry—sharp men cloaked in scarlet and blue, +top-heavy under prodigious white turbans, and fully conscious of the power +there is in the lustre of a ribbon and the incisive gleam of gold, whether in +bracelet or necklace, or in rings for the finger or the nose—and with +peddlers of household utensils, and with dealers in wearing-apparel, and with +retailers of unguents for anointing the person, and with hucksters of all +articles, fanciful as well as of need, hither and thither, tugging at halters +and ropes, now screaming, now coaxing, toil the venders of +animals—donkeys, horses, calves, sheep, bleating kids, and awkward +camels; animals of every kind except the outlawed swine. All these are there; +not singly, as described, but many times repeated; not in one place, but +everywhere in the market. +</p> + +<p> +Turning from this scene in the lane and court, this glance at the sellers and +their commodities, the reader has need to give attention, in the next place, to +visitors and buyers, for which the best studies will be found outside the +gates, where the spectacle is quite as varied and animated; indeed, it may be +more so, for there are superadded the effects of tent, booth, and sook, greater +space, larger crowd, more unqualified freedom, and the glory of the Eastern +sunshine. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +Let us take our stand by the gate, just out of the edge of the +currents—one flowing in, the other out—and use our eyes and ears +awhile. +</p> + +<p> +In good time! Here come two men of a most noteworthy class. +</p> + +<p> +“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 and +skirts of mail. “How cold it is! Dost thou remember, my Caius, that vault +in the Comitium at home which the flamens say is the entrance to the lower +world? By Pluto! I could stand there this morning, long enough at least to get +warm again!” +</p> + +<p> +The party addressed drops the hood of his military cloak, leaving bare his head +and face, and replies, with an ironic smile, “The helmets of the legions +which conquered Mark Antony were full of Gallic snow; but thou—ah, my +poor friend!—thou hast just come from Egypt, bringing its summer in thy +blood.” +</p> + +<p> +And with the last word they disappear through the entrance. Though they had +been silent, the armor and the sturdy step would have published them Roman +soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +From the throng a Jew comes next, meager of frame, round-shouldered, and +wearing a coarse brown robe; over his eyes and face, and down his back, hangs a +mat of long, uncombed hair. He is alone. Those who meet him laugh, if they do +not worse; for he is a Nazarite, one of a despised sect which rejects the books +of Moses, devotes itself to abhorred vows, and goes unshorn while the vows +endure. +</p> + +<p> +As we watch his retiring figure, suddenly there is a commotion in the crowd, a +parting quickly to the right and left, with exclamations sharp and decisive. +Then the cause comes—a man, Hebrew in feature and dress. The mantle of +snow-white linen, held to his head by cords of yellow silk, flows free over his +shoulders; his robe is richly embroidered, a red sash with fringes of gold +wraps his waist several times. His demeanor is calm; he even smiles upon those +who, with such rude haste, make room for him. A leper? No, he is only a +Samaritan. The shrinking crowd, if asked, would say he is a mongrel—an +Assyrian—whose touch of the robe is pollution; from whom, consequently, +an Israelite, though dying, might not accept life. In fact, the feud is not of +blood. When David set his 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 final union 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 irate +doctors in Jerusalem. Time brought no assuagement of the hate. Under Herod, +conversion to the faith was open to all the world except the Samaritans; they +alone were absolutely and forever shut out from communion with Jews. +</p> + +<p> +As the Samaritan goes in under the arch of the gate, out come three men so +unlike all whom we have yet seen that they fix our gaze, whether we will or +not. They are of unusual stature and immense brawn; their eyes are blue, and so +fair is their complexion that the blood shines through the skin like blue +pencilling; their hair is light and short; their heads, small and round, rest +squarely upon necks columnar as the trunks of trees. Woollen tunics, open at +the breast, sleeveless and loosely girt, drape their bodies, leaving bare arms +and 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 they have passed to look at them +again. They are gladiators—wrestlers, runners, boxers, swordsmen; +professionals unknown in Judea before the coming of the Roman; fellows who, +what time they are not in training, may be seen strolling through the +king’s gardens or sitting with the guards at the palace gates; or +possibly they are visitors from Cæsarea, Sebaste, or Jericho; in which Herod, +more Greek than Jew, and with all a Roman’s love of games and bloody +spectacles, has built vast theaters, and now keeps schools of fighting-men, +drawn, as is the custom, from the Gallic provinces or the Slavic tribes on the +Danube. +</p> + +<p> +“By Bacchus!” says one of them, drawing his clenched hand to his +shoulder, “their skulls are not thicker than eggshells.” +</p> + +<p> +The brutal look which goes with the gesture disgusts us, and we turn happily to +something more pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +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 sits upon a carpet spread upon the dust; the +wall is at his back; overhead hangs a scant curtain, around him, within +hand’s reach and arranged upon little stools, lie osier boxes full of +almonds, grapes, figs, and pomegranates. To him now comes one at whom we cannot +help looking, though for another reason than that which fixed our eyes upon the +gladiators; he is really beautiful—a beautiful Greek. Around his temples, +holding the waving hair, is a crown of myrtle, to which still cling the pale +flowers and half ripe berries. His tunic, scarlet in color, is of the softest +woollen fabric; below the girdle of buff leather, which is clasped in front by +a fantastic device of shining gold, the skirt drops to the knee in folds heavy +with embroidery of the same royal metal; a scarf, also woollen, and of mixed +white and yellow, crosses his throat and falls trailing at his back; his arms +and legs, where exposed, are white as ivory, and of the polish impossible +except by perfect treatment with bath, oil, brushes, and pincers. +</p> + +<p> +The dealer, keeping his seat, bends forward, and throws his hands up until they +meet in front of him, palm downwards and fingers extended. +</p> + +<p> +“What hast thou, this morning, O son of Paphos?” says the young +Greek, looking at the boxes rather than at the Cypriote. “I am hungry. +What hast thou for breakfast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fruits from the Pedius—genuine—such as the singers of +Antioch take of mornings to restore the waste of their voices,” the +dealer answers, in a querulous nasal tone. +</p> + +<p> +“A fig, but not one of thy best, for the singers of Antioch!” says +the Greek. “Thou art a worshiper of Aphrodite, and so am I, as the myrtle +I wear proves; therefore I tell thee their voices have the chill of a Caspian +wind. Seest thou this girdle?—a gift of the mighty Salome—” +</p> + +<p> +“The king’s sister!” exclaims the Cypriote, with another +salaam. +</p> + +<p> +“And of royal taste and divine judgment. And why not? She is more Greek +than the king. But—my breakfast! Here is thy money—red coppers of +Cyprus. Give me grapes, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Wilt thou not take the dates also?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not an Arab.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor figs?” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be to make me a Jew. No, nothing but the grapes. Never waters +mixed so sweetly as the blood of the Greek and the blood of the grape.” +</p> + +<p> +The singer in the grimed and seething market, with all his airs of the court, +is a vision not easily shut out of mind by such as see him; as if for the +purpose, however, a person follows him challenging all our wonder. He comes up +the road slowly, his face towards the ground; at intervals he stops, crosses +his hands upon his breast, lengthens his countenance, and turns his eyes +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 a leathern case, square in form; another +similar case is tied by a thong to the left arm; the borders of his robe are +decorated with deep fringe; and by such signs—the phylacteries, the +enlarged borders of the garment, and the savor of intense holiness pervading +the whole man—we know him to be a Pharisee, one of an organization (in +religion a sect, in politics a party) whose bigotry and power will shortly +bring the world to grief. +</p> + +<p> +The densest of the throng outside the gate covers the road leading off to +Joppa. Turning from the Pharisee, we are attracted by some parties who, as +subjects of study, opportunely separate themselves from the motley crowd. First +among them a man of very noble appearance—clear, healthful complexion; +bright black eyes; beard long and flowing, and rich with unguents; apparel +well-fitting, costly, and suitable for the season. He carries a staff, and +wears, suspended by a cord from his neck, a large golden seal. Several servants +attend him, some of them with short swords stuck through their sashes; when +they address him, it is with the utmost deference. The rest of the party +consists of two Arabs of the pure desert stock; thin, wiry men, deeply bronzed, +and with hollow cheeks, and eyes of almost evil brightness; on their heads red +tarbooshes; over their abas, and wrapping the left shoulder and the body so as +to leave the right arm free, brown woollen haicks, or blankets. There is loud +chaffering, for the Arabs are leading horses and trying to sell them; and, in +their eagerness, they speak in high, shrill voices. The courtly person leaves +the talking mostly to his servants; occasionally he answers with much dignity; +directly, seeing the Cypriote, he stops and buys some figs. And when the whole +party has passed the portal, close after 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 the difference between the common grapes of Syria and those of Cyprus, +so surpassingly rich with the dews of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +And so, till towards noon, sometimes later, the steady currents of business +habitually flow in and out of the Joppa Gate, carrying with them every variety +of character; including representatives of all the tribes of Israel, all the +sects among whom the ancient faith has been parcelled and refined away, all the +religious and social divisions, all the adventurous rabble who, as children of +art and ministers of pleasure, riot in the prodigalities of Herod, and all the +peoples of note at any time compassed by the Cæsars and their predecessors, +especially those dwelling within the circuit of the Mediterranean. +</p> + +<p> +In other words, Jerusalem, rich in sacred history, richer in connection with +sacred prophecies—the Jerusalem of Solomon, in which silver was as +stones, and cedars as the sycamores of the vale—had come to be but a copy +of Rome, a center of unholy practises, a seat of pagan power. A Jewish king one +day put on priestly garments, and went into the Holy of Holies of the first +temple to offer incense, and he came out a leper; but in the time of which we +are reading, Pompey entered Herod’s temple and the same Holy of Holies, +and came out without harm, finding but an empty chamber, and of God not a sign. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +The reader is now besought to return to the court described as part of the +market at the Joppa Gate. It was the third hour of the day, and many of the +people had gone away; yet the press continued without apparent abatement. Of +the new-comers, there was a group over by the south wall, consisting of a man, +a woman, and a donkey, which requires extended notice. +</p> + +<p> +The man stood by the animal’s head, holding a leading-strap, and leaning +upon a stick which seemed to have been chosen for the double purpose of goad +and staff. His dress was like that of the ordinary Jews around him, except that +it had an appearance of newness. The mantle dropping from his head, and the +robe or frock which clothed his person from neck to heel, were probably the +garments he was accustomed to wear to the synagogue on Sabbath days. His +features were exposed, and they told of fifty years of life, a surmise +confirmed by the gray that streaked his otherwise black beard. He looked around +him with the half-curious, half-vacant stare of a stranger and provincial. +</p> + +<p> +The donkey ate leisurely from an armful of green grass, of which there was an +abundance in the market. In its sleepy content, the brute did not admit of +disturbance from the bustle and clamor about; no more was it mindful of the +woman sitting upon its back in a cushioned pillion. An outer robe of dull +woollen stuff completely covered her person, while a white wimple veiled her +head and neck. Once in a while, impelled by curiosity to see or hear something +passing, she drew the wimple aside, but so slightly that the face remained +invisible. +</p> + +<p> +At length the man was accosted. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not Joseph of Nazareth?” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker was standing close by. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so called,” answered Joseph, turning gravely around; +“And you—ah, peace be unto you! my friend, Rabbi Samuel!” +</p> + +<p> +“The same give I back to you.” The Rabbi paused, looking at the +woman, then added, “To you, and unto your house and all your helpers, be +peace.” +</p> + +<p> +With the last word, he placed one hand upon his breast, and inclined his head +to the woman, who, to see him, had by this time withdrawn the wimple enough to +show the face of one but a short time out of girlhood. Thereupon the +acquaintances grasped right hands, as if to carry them to their lips; at the +last moment, however, the clasp was let go, and each kissed his own hand, then +put its palm upon his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“There is so little dust upon your garments,” the Rabbi said, +familiarly, “that I infer you passed the night in this city of our +fathers.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Joseph replied, “as we could only make Bethany before +the night came, we stayed in the khan there, and took the road again at +daybreak.” +</p> + +<p> +“The journey before you is long, then—not to Joppa, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only to Bethlehem.” +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of the Rabbi, theretofore open and friendly, became lowering +and sinister, and he cleared his throat with a growl instead of a cough. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes—I see,” he said. “You were born in Bethlehem, +and wend thither now, with your daughter, to be counted for taxation, as +ordered by Cæsar. The children of Jacob are as the tribes in Egypt +were—only they have neither a Moses nor a Joshua. How are the mighty +fallen!” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph answered, without change of posture or countenance, +</p> + +<p> +“The woman is not my daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +But the Rabbi clung to the political idea; and he went on, without noticing the +explanation, “What are the Zealots doing down in Galilee?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a carpenter, and Nazareth is a village,” said Joseph, +cautiously. “The street on which my bench stands is not a road leading to +any city. Hewing wood and sawing plank leave me no time to take part in the +disputes of parties.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you are a Jew,” said the Rabbi, earnestly. “You are a +Jew, and of the line of David. It is not possible you can find pleasure in the +payment of any tax except the shekel given by ancient custom to Jehovah.” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph held his peace. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not complain,” his friend continued, “of the amount of +the tax—a denarius is a trifle. Oh no! The imposition of the tax is the +offense. And, besides, what is paying it but submission to tyranny? Tell me, is +it true that Judas claims to be the Messiah? You live in the midst of his +followers.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard his followers say he was the Messiah,” Joseph +replied. +</p> + +<p> +At this point the wimple was drawn aside, and for an instant the whole face of +the woman was exposed. The eyes of the Rabbi wandered that way, and he had time +to see a countenance of rare beauty, kindled by a look of intense interest; +then a blush overspread her cheeks and brow, and the veil was returned to its +place. +</p> + +<p> +The politician forgot his subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Your daughter is comely,” he said, speaking lower. +</p> + +<p> +“She is not my daughter,” Joseph repeated. +</p> + +<p> +The curiosity of the Rabbi was aroused; seeing which, the Nazarene hastened to +say further, “She is the child of Joachim and Anna of Bethlehem, of whom +you have at least heard, for they were of great repute—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” remarked the Rabbi, deferentially, “I know them. They +were lineally descended from David. I knew them well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they are dead now,” the Nazarene proceeded. “They died +in Nazareth. Joachim was not rich, yet he left a house and garden to be divided +between his daughters Marian and Mary. This is one of them; and to save her +portion of the property, the law required her to marry her next of kin. She is +now my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you were—” +</p> + +<p> +“Her uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! And as you were both born in Bethlehem, the Roman compels you +to take her there with you to be also counted.” +</p> + +<p> +The Rabbi clasped his hands, and looked indignantly to heaven, exclaiming, +“The God of Israel still lives! The vengeance is his!” +</p> + +<p> +With that he turned and abruptly departed. A stranger near by, observing +Joseph’s amazement, said, quietly, “Rabbi Samuel is a zealot. Judas +himself is not more fierce.” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph, not wishing to talk with the man, appeared not to hear, and busied +himself gathering in a little heap the grass which the donkey had tossed +abroad; after which he leaned upon his staff again, and waited. +</p> + +<p> +In another hour the party passed out the gate, and, turning to the left, took +the road into Bethlehem. The descent into the valley of Hinnom was quite +broken, garnished here and there with straggling wild olive-trees. Carefully, +tenderly, the Nazarene walked by the woman’s side, leading-strap in hand. +On their left, reaching to the south and east round Mount Zion, rose the city +wall, and on their right the steep prominences which form the western boundary +of the valley. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly they passed the Lower Pool of Gihon, out of which the sun was fast +driving the lessening shadow of the royal hill; slowly they proceeded, keeping +parallel with the aqueduct from the Pools of Solomon, until near the site of +the country-house on what is now called the Hill of Evil Counsel; there they +began to ascend to the plain of Rephaim. The sun streamed garishly over the +stony face of the famous locality, and under its influence Mary, the daughter +of Joachim, dropped the wimple entirely, and bared her head. Joseph told the +story of the Philistines surprised in their camp there by David. He was tedious +in the narrative, speaking with the solemn countenance and lifeless manner of a +dull man. She did not always hear him. +</p> + +<p> +Wherever on the land men go, and on the sea ships, the face and figure of the +Jew are familiar. The physical type of the race has always been the same; yet +there have been some individual variations. “Now he was ruddy, and withal +of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to.” Such was the son of +Jesse when brought before Samuel. The fancies of men have been ever since ruled +by the description. Poetic license has extended the peculiarities of the +ancestor to his notable descendants. So all our ideal Solomons have fair faces, +and hair and beard chestnut in the shade, and of the tint of gold in the sun. +Such, we are also made believe, were the locks of Absalom the beloved. And, in +the absence of authentic history, tradition has dealt no less lovingly by her +whom we are now following down to the native city of the ruddy king. +</p> + +<p> +She was not more than fifteen. Her form, voice, and manner belonged to the +period of transition from girlhood. Her face was perfectly oval, her complexion +more pale than fair. The nose was faultless; the lips, slightly parted, were +full and ripe, giving to the lines of the mouth warmth, tenderness, and trust; +the eyes were blue and large, and shaded by drooping lids and long lashes; and, +in harmony with all, a flood of golden hair, in the style permitted to Jewish +brides, fell unconfined down her back to the pillion on which she sat. The +throat and neck had the downy softness sometimes seen which leaves the artist +in doubt whether it is an effect of contour or color. To these charms of +feature and person were added others more indefinable—an air of purity +which only the soul can impart, and of abstraction natural to such as think +much of things impalpable. Often, with trembling lips, she raised her eyes to +heaven, itself not more deeply blue; often she crossed her hands upon her +breast, as in adoration and prayer; often she raised her head like one +listening eagerly for a calling voice. Now and then, midst his slow utterances, +Joseph turned to look at her, and, catching the expression kindling her face as +with light, forgot his theme, and with bowed head, wondering, plodded on. +</p> + +<p> +So they skirted the great plain, and at length reached the elevation Mar Elias; +from which, across a valley, they beheld Bethlehem, the old, old House of +Bread, its white walls crowning a ridge, and shining above the brown scumbling +of leafless orchards. They paused there, and rested, while Joseph pointed out +the places of sacred renown; then they went down into the valley to the well +which was the scene of one of the marvellous exploits of David’s strong +men. The narrow space was crowded with people and animals. A fear came upon +Joseph—a fear lest, if the town were so thronged, there might not be +house-room for the gentle Mary. Without delay, he hurried on, past the pillar +of stone marking the tomb of Rachel, up the gardened slope, saluting none of +the many persons he met on the way, until he stopped before the portal of the +khan that then stood outside the village gates, near a junction of roads. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +To understand thoroughly what happened to the Nazarene at the khan, the reader +must be reminded that Eastern inns were different from the inns of the Western +world. They were called khans, from the Persian, and, in simplest form, were +fenced enclosures, without house or shed, often without a gate or entrance. +Their sites were chosen with reference to shade, defence, or water. Such were +the inns that sheltered Jacob when he went to seek a wife in Padan-Aram. Their +like may been seen at this day in the stopping-places of the desert. On the +other hand, some of them, especially those on the roads between great cities, +like Jerusalem and Alexandria, were princely establishments, monuments to the +piety of the kings who built them. In ordinary, however, they were no more than +the house or possession of a sheik, in which, as in headquarters, he swayed his +tribe. Lodging the traveller was the least of their uses; they were markets, +factories, forts; places of assemblage and residence for merchants and artisans +quite as much as places of shelter for belated and wandering wayfarers. Within +their walls, all the year round, occurred the multiplied daily transactions of +a town. +</p> + +<p> +The singular management of these hostelries was the feature likely to strike a +Western mind with most force. There was no host or hostess; no clerk, cook, or +kitchen; a steward at the gate was all the assertion of government or +proprietorship anywhere visible. Strangers arriving stayed at will without +rendering account. A consequence of the system was that whoever came had to +bring his food and culinary outfit with him, or buy them of dealers in the +khan. The same rule held good as to his bed and bedding, and forage for his +beasts. Water, rest, shelter, and protection were all he looked for from the +proprietor, and they were gratuities. The peace of synagogues was sometimes +broken by brawling disputants, but that of the khans never. The houses and all +their appurtenances were sacred: a well was not more so. +</p> + +<p> +The khan at Bethlehem, before which Joseph and his wife stopped, was a good +specimen of its class, being neither very primitive nor very princely. The +building was purely Oriental; that is to say, a quadrangular block of rough +stones, one story high, flat-roofed, externally unbroken by a window, and with +but one principal entrance—a doorway, which was also a gateway, on the +eastern side, or front. The road ran by the door so near that the chalk dust +half covered the lintel. A fence of flat rocks, beginning at the northeastern +corner of the pile, extended many yards down the slope to a point from whence +it swept westwardly to a limestone bluff; making what was in the highest degree +essential to a respectable khan—a safe enclosure for animals. +</p> + +<p> +In a village like Bethlehem, as there was but one sheik, there could not well +be more than one khan; and, though born in the place, the Nazarene, from long +residence elsewhere, had no claim to hospitality in the town. Moreover, the +enumeration for which he was coming might be the work of weeks or months; Roman +deputies in the provinces were proverbially slow; and to impose himself and +wife for a period so uncertain upon acquaintances or relations was out of the +question. So, before he drew nigh the great house, while he was yet climbing +the slope, in the steep places toiling to hasten the donkey, the fear that he +might not find accommodations in the khan became a painful anxiety; for he +found the road thronged with men and boys who, with great ado, were taking +their cattle, horses, and camels to and from the valley, some to water, some to +the neighboring caves. And when he was come close by, his alarm was not allayed +by the discovery of a crowd investing the door of the establishment, while the +enclosure adjoining, broad as it was, seemed already full. +</p> + +<p> +“We cannot reach the door,” Joseph said, in his slow way. +“Let us stop here, and learn, if we can, what has happened.” +</p> + +<p> +The wife, without answering, quietly drew the wimple aside. The look of fatigue +at first upon her face changed to one of interest. She found herself at the +edge of an assemblage that could not be other than a matter of curiosity to +her, although it was common enough at the khans on any of the highways which +the great caravans were accustomed to traverse. There were men on foot, running +hither and thither, talking shrilly and in all the tongues of Syria; men on +horseback screaming to men on camels; men struggling doubtfully with fractious +cows and frightened sheep; men peddling bread and wine; and among the mass a +herd of boys apparently in chase of a herd of dogs. Everybody and everything +seemed to be in motion at the same time. Possibly the fair spectator was too +weary to be long attracted by the scene; in a little while she sighed, and +settled down on the pillion, and, as if in search of peace and rest, or in +expectation of some one, looked off to the south, and up to the tall cliffs of +the Mount of Paradise, then faintly reddening under the setting sun. +</p> + +<p> +While she was thus looking, a man pushed his way out of the press, and, +stopping close by the donkey, faced about with an angry brow. The Nazarene +spoke to him. +</p> + +<p> +“As I am what I take you to be, good friend—a son of +Judah—may I ask the cause of this multitude?” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger turned fiercely; but, seeing the solemn countenance of Joseph, so +in keeping with his deep, slow voice and speech, he raised his hand in +half-salutation, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +“Peace be to you, Rabbi! I am a son of Judah, and will answer you. I +dwell in Beth-Dagon, which, you know, is in what used to be the land of the +tribe of Dan.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the road to Joppa from Modin,” said Joseph. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you have been in Beth-Dagon,” the man said, his face softening +yet more. “What wanderers we of Judah are! I have been away from the +ridge—old Ephrath, as our father Jacob called it—for many years. +When the proclamation went abroad requiring all Hebrews to be numbered at the +cities of their birth— That is my business here, Rabbi.” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph’s face remained stolid as a mask, while he remarked, “I have +come for that also—I and my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger glanced at Mary and kept silence. She was looking up at the bald +top of Gedor. The sun touched her upturned face, and filled the violet depths +of her eyes, and upon her parted lips trembled an aspiration which could not +have been to a mortal. For the moment, all the humanity of her beauty seemed +refined away: she was as we fancy they are who sit close by the gate in the +transfiguring light of Heaven. The Beth-Dagonite saw the original of what, +centuries after, came as a vision of genius to Sanzio the divine, and left him +immortal. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what was I speaking? Ah! I remember. I was about to say that when I +heard of the order to come here, I was angry. Then I thought of the old hill, +and the town, and the valley falling away into the depths of Cedron; of the +vines and orchards, and fields of grain, unfailing since the days of Boaz and +Ruth, of the familiar mountains—Gedor here, Gibeah yonder, Mar Elias +there—which, when I was a boy, were the walls of the world to me; and I +forgave the tyrants and came—I, and Rachel, my wife, and Deborah and +Michal, our roses of Sharon.” +</p> + +<p> +The man paused again, looking abruptly at Mary, who was now looking at him and +listening. Then he said, “Rabbi, will not your wife go to mine? You may +see her yonder with the children, under the leaning olive-tree at the bend of +the road. I tell you”—he turned to Joseph and spoke +positively—“I tell you the khan is full. It is useless to ask at +the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph’s will was slow, like his mind; he hesitated, but at length +replied, “The offer is kind. Whether there be room for us or not in the +house, we will go see your people. Let me speak to the gate-keeper myself. I +will return quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +And, putting the leading-strap in the stranger’s hand, he pushed into the +stirring crowd. +</p> + +<p> +The keeper sat on a great cedar block outside the gate. Against the wall behind +him leaned a javelin. A dog squatted on the block by his side. +</p> + +<p> +“The peace of Jehovah be with you,” said Joseph, at last +confronting the keeper. +</p> + +<p> +“What you give, may you find again; and, when found, be it many times +multiplied to you and yours,” returned the watchman, gravely, though +without moving. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a Bethlehemite,” said Joseph, in his most deliberate way. +“Is there not room for—” +</p> + +<p> +“There is not.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may have heard of me—Joseph of Nazareth. This is the house of +my fathers. I am of the line of David.” +</p> + +<p> +These words held the Nazarene’s hope. If they failed him, further appeal +was idle, even that of the offer of many shekels. To be a son of Judah was one +thing—in the tribal opinion a great thing; to be of the house of David +was yet another; on the tongue of a Hebrew there could be no higher boast. A +thousand years and more had passed since the boyish shepherd became the +successor of Saul and founded a royal family. Wars, calamities, other kings, +and the countless obscuring processes of time had, as respects fortune, lowered +his descendants to the common Jewish level; the bread they ate came to them of +toil never more humble; yet they had the benefit of history sacredly kept, of +which genealogy was the first chapter and the last; they could not become +unknown, while, wherever they went In Israel, acquaintance drew after it a +respect amounting to reverence. +</p> + +<p> +If this were so in Jerusalem and elsewhere, certainly one of the sacred line +might reasonably rely upon it at the door of the khan of Bethlehem. To say, as +Joseph said, “This is the house of my fathers,” was to say the +truth most simply and literally; for it was the very house Ruth ruled as the +wife of Boaz, the very house in which Jesse and his ten sons, David the +youngest, were born, the very house in which Samuel came seeking a king, and +found him; the very house which David gave to the son of Barzillai, the +friendly Gileadite; the very house in which Jeremiah, by prayer, rescued the +remnant of his race flying before the Babylonians. +</p> + +<p> +The appeal was not without effect. The keeper of the gate slid down from the +cedar block, and, laying his hand upon his beard, said, respectfully, +“Rabbi, I cannot tell you when this door first opened in welcome to the +traveller, but it was more than a thousand years ago; and in all that time +there is no known instance of a good man turned away, save when there was no +room to rest him in. If it has been so with the stranger, just cause must the +steward have who says no to one of the line of David. Wherefore, I salute you +again; and, if you care to go with me, I will show you that there is not a +lodging-place left in the house; neither in the chambers, nor in the lewens, +nor in the court—not even on the roof. May I ask when you came?” +</p> + +<p> +“But now.” +</p> + +<p> +The keeper smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The stranger that dwelleth with you shall be as one born among +you, and thou shalt love him as thyself.’ Is not that the law, +Rabbi?” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“If it be the law, can I say to one a long time come, ‘Go thy way; +another is here to take thy place?’” +</p> + +<p> +Yet Joseph held his peace. +</p> + +<p> +“And, if I said so, to whom would the place belong? See the many that +have been waiting, some of them since noon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are all these people?” asked Joseph, turning to the crowd. +“And why are they here at this time?” +</p> + +<p> +“That which doubtless brought you, Rabbi—the decree of the +Cæsar”—the keeper threw an interrogative glance at the Nazarene, +then continued—“brought most of those who have lodging in the +house. And yesterday the caravan passing from Damascus to Arabia and Lower +Egypt arrived. These you see here belong to it—men and camels.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Joseph persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“The court is large,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but it is heaped with cargoes—with bales of silk, and pockets +of spices, and goods of every kind.” +</p> + +<p> +Then for a moment the face of the applicant lost its stolidity; the lustreless, +staring eyes dropped. With some warmth he next said, “I do not care for +myself, but I have with me my wife, and the night is cold—colder on these +heights than in Nazareth. She cannot live in the open air. Is there not room in +the town?” +</p> + +<p> +“These people”—the keeper waved his hand to the throng before +the door—“have all besought the town, and they report its +accommodations all engaged.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Joseph studied the ground, saying, half to himself, “She is so +young! if I make her bed on the hill, the frosts will kill her.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he spoke to the keeper again. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be you knew her parents, Joachim and Anna, once of Bethlehem, +and, like myself, of the line of David.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I knew them. They were good people. That was in my youth.” +</p> + +<p> +This time the keeper’s eyes sought the ground in thought. Suddenly he +raised his head. +</p> + +<p> +“If I cannot make room for you,” he said, “I cannot turn you +away. Rabbi, I will do the best I can for you. How many are of your +party?” +</p> + +<p> +Joseph reflected, then replied, “My wife and a friend with his family, +from Beth-Dagon, a little town over by Joppa; in all, six of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. You shall not lie out on the ridge. Bring your people, and +hasten; for, when the sun goes down behind the mountain, you know the night +comes quickly, and it is nearly there now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give you the blessing of the houseless traveller; that of the +sojourner will follow.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the Nazarene went back joyfully to Mary and the Beth-Dagonite. In a +little while the latter brought up his family, the women mounted on donkeys. +The wife was matronly, the daughters were images of what she must have been in +youth; and as they drew nigh the door, the keeper knew them to be of the humble +class. +</p> + +<p> +“This is she of whom I spoke,” said the Nazarene; “and these +are our friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Mary’s veil was raised. +</p> + +<p> +“Blue eyes and hair of gold,” muttered the steward to himself, +seeing but her. “So looked the young king when he went to sing before +Saul.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he took the leading-strap from Joseph, and said to Mary, “Peace to +you, O daughter of David!” Then to the others, “Peace to you +all!” Then to Joseph, “Rabbi, follow me.” +</p> + +<p> +The party were conducted into a wide passage paved with stone, from which they +entered the court of the khan. To a stranger the scene would have been curious; +but they noticed the lewens that yawned darkly upon them from all sides, and +the court itself, only to remark how crowded they were. By a lane reserved in +the stowage of the cargoes, and thence by a passage similar to the one at the +entrance, they emerged into the enclosure adjoining the house, and came upon +camels, horses, and donkeys, tethered and dozing in close groups; among them +were the keepers, men of many lands; and they, too, slept or kept silent watch. +They went down the slope of the crowded yard slowly, for the dull carriers of +the women had wills of their own. At length they turned into a path running +towards the gray limestone bluff overlooking the khan on the west. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going to the cave,” said Joseph, laconically. +</p> + +<p> +The guide lingered till Mary came to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“The cave to which we are going,” he said to her, “must have +been a resort of your ancestor David. From the field below us, and from the +well down in the valley, he used to drive his flocks to it for safety; and +afterwards, when he was king, he came back to the old house here for rest and +health, bringing great trains of animals. The mangers yet remain as they were +in his day. Better a bed on the floor where he has slept than one in the +court-yard or out by the roadside. Ah, here is the house before the +cave!” +</p> + +<p> +This speech must not be taken as an apology for the lodging offered. There was +no need of apology. The place was the best then at disposal. The guests were +simple folks, by habits of life easily satisfied. To the Jew of that period, +moreover, abode in caverns was a familiar idea, made so by every-day +occurrences, and by what he heard of Sabbaths in the synagogues. How much of +Jewish history, how many of the many exciting incidents in that history, had +transpired in caves! Yet further, these people were Jews of Bethlehem, with +whom the idea was especially commonplace; for their locality abounded with +caves great and small, some of which had been dwelling-places from the time of +the Emim and Horites. No more was there offence to them in the fact that the +cavern to which they were being taken had been, or was, a stable. They were the +descendants of a race of herdsmen, whose flocks habitually shared both their +habitations and wanderings. In keeping with a custom derived from Abraham, the +tent of the Bedawin yet shelters his horses and children alike. So they obeyed +the keeper cheerfully, and gazed at the house, feeling only a natural +curiosity. Everything associated with the history of David was interesting to +them. +</p> + +<p> +The building was low and narrow, projecting but a little from the rock to which +it was joined at the rear, and wholly without a window. In its blank front +there was a door, swung on enormous hinges, and thickly daubed with ochreous +clay. While the wooden bolt of the lock was being pushed back, the women were +assisted from their pillions. Upon the opening of the door, the keeper called +out, +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” +</p> + +<p> +The guests entered, and stared about them. It became apparent immediately that +the house was but a mask or covering for the mouth of a natural cave or grotto, +probably forty feet long, nine or ten high, and twelve or fifteen in width. The +light streamed through the doorway, over an uneven floor, falling upon piles of +grain and fodder, and earthenware and household property, occupying the centre +of the chamber. Along the sides were mangers, low enough for sheep, and built +of stones laid in cement. There were no stalls or partitions of any kind. Dust +and chaff yellowed the floor, filled all the crevices and hollows, and +thickened the spider-webs, which dropped from the ceiling like bits of dirty +linen; otherwise the place was cleanly, and, to appearance, as comfortable as +any of the arched lewens of the khan proper. In fact, a cave was the model and +first suggestion of the lewen. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” said the guide. “These piles upon the floor are +for travellers like yourselves. Take what of them you need.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he spoke to Mary. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you rest here?” +</p> + +<p> +“The place is sanctified,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I leave you then. Peace be with you all!” +</p> + +<p> +When he was gone, they busied themselves making the cave habitable. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p> +At a certain hour in the evening the shouting and stir of the people in and +about the khan ceased; at the same time, every Israelite, if not already upon +his feet, arose, solemnized his face, looked towards Jerusalem, crossed his +hands upon his breast, and prayed; for it was the sacred ninth hour, when +sacrifices were offered in the temple on Moriah, and God was supposed to be +there. When the hands of the worshippers fell down, the commotion broke forth +again; everybody hastened to bread, or to make his pallet. A little later, the +lights were put out, and there was silence, and then sleep. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +About midnight some one on the roof cried out, “What light is that in the +sky? Awake, brethren, awake and see!” +</p> + +<p> +The people, half asleep, sat up and looked; then they became wide-awake, though +wonder-struck. And the stir spread to the court below, and into the lewens; +soon the entire tenantry of the house and court and enclosure were out gazing +at the sky. +</p> + +<p> +And this was what they saw. A ray of light, beginning at a height immeasurably +beyond the nearest stars, and dropping obliquely to the earth; at its top, a +diminishing point; at its base, many furlongs in width; its sides blending +softly with the darkness of the night, its core a roseate electrical splendor. +The apparition seemed to rest on the nearest mountain southeast of the town, +making a pale corona along the line of the summit. The khan was touched +luminously, so that those upon the roof saw each other’s faces, all +filled with wonder. +</p> + +<p> +Steadily, through minutes, the ray lingered, and then the wonder changed to awe +and fear; the timid trembled; the boldest spoke in whispers. +</p> + +<p> +“Saw you ever the like?” asked one. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems just over the mountain there. I cannot tell what it is, nor did +I ever see anything like it,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Can it be that a star has burst and fallen?” asked another, his +tongue faltering. +</p> + +<p> +“When a star falls, its light goes out.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have it!” cried one, confidently. “The shepherds have seen +a lion, and made fires to keep him from the flocks.” +</p> + +<p> +The men next the speaker drew a breath of relief, and said, “Yes, that is +it! The flocks were grazing in the valley over there to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +A bystander dispelled the comfort. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Though all the wood in all the valleys of Judah was brought +together in one pile and fired, the blaze would not throw a light so strong and +high.” +</p> + +<p> +After that there was silence on the house-top, broken but once again while the +mystery continued. +</p> + +<p> +“Brethren!” exclaimed a Jew of venerable mien, “what we see +is the ladder our father Jacob saw in his dream. Blessed be the Lord God of our +fathers!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +A mile and a half, it may be two miles, southeast of Bethlehem, there is a +plain separated from the town by an intervening swell of the mountain. Besides +being well sheltered from the north winds, the vale was covered with a growth +of sycamore, dwarf-oak, and pine trees, while in the glens and ravines +adjoining there were thickets of olive and mulberry; all at this season of the +year invaluable for the support of sheep, goats, and cattle, of which the +wandering flocks consisted. +</p> + +<p> +At the side farthest from the town, close under a bluff, there was an extensive +marah, or sheepcot, ages old. In some long-forgotten foray, the building had +been unroofed and almost demolished. The enclosure attached to it remained +intact, however, and that was of more importance to the shepherds who drove +their charges thither than the house itself. The stone wall around the lot was +high as a man’s head, yet not so high but that sometimes a panther or a +lion, hungering from the wilderness, leaped boldly in. On the inner side of the +wall, and as an additional security against the constant danger, a hedge of the +rhamnus had been planted, an invention so successful that now a sparrow could +hardly penetrate the overtopping branches, armed as they were with great +clusters of thorns hard as spikes. +</p> + +<p> +The day of the occurrences which occupy the preceding chapters, a number of +shepherds, seeking fresh walks for their flocks, led them up to this plain; and +from early morning the groves had been made ring with calls, and the blows of +axes, the bleating of sheep and goats, the tinkling of bells, the lowing of +cattle, and the barking of dogs. When the sun went down, they led the way to +the marah, and by nightfall had everything safe in the field; then they kindled +a fire down by the gate, partook of their humble supper, and sat down to rest +and talk, leaving one on watch. +</p> + +<p> +There were six of these men, omitting the watchman; and afterwhile they +assembled in a group near the fire, some sitting, some lying prone. As they +went bareheaded habitually, their hair stood out in thick, coarse, sunburnt +shocks; their beard covered their throats, and fell in mats down the breast; +mantles of the skin of kids and lambs, with the fleece on, wrapped them from +neck to knee, leaving the arms exposed; broad belts girthed the rude garments +to their waists; their sandals were of the coarsest quality; from their right +shoulders hung scrips containing food and selected stones for slings, with +which they were armed; on the ground near each one lay his crook, a symbol of +his calling and a weapon of offence. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the shepherds of Judea! In appearance, rough and savage as the gaunt +dogs sitting with them around the blaze; in fact, simple-minded, +tender-hearted; effects due, in part, to the primitive life they led, but +chiefly to their constant care of things lovable and helpless. +</p> + +<p> +They rested and talked, and their talk was all about their flocks, a dull theme +to the world, yet a theme which was all the world to them. If in narrative they +dwelt long upon affairs of trifling moment; if one of them omitted nothing of +detail in recounting the loss of a lamb, the relation between him and the +unfortunate should be remembered: at birth it became his charge, his to keep +all its days, to help over the floods, to carry down the hollows, to name and +train; it was to be his companion, his object of thought and interest, the +subject of his will; it was to enliven and share his wanderings; in its defense +he might be called on to face the lion or robber—to die. +</p> + +<p> +The great events, such as blotted out nations and changed the mastery of the +world, were trifles to them, if perchance they came to their knowledge. Of what +Herod was doing in this city or that, building palaces and gymnasia, and +indulging forbidden practises, they occasionally heard. As was her habit in +those days, Rome did not wait for people slow to inquire about her; she came to +them. Over the hills along which he was leading his lagging herd, or in the +fastnesses in which he was hiding them, not unfrequently the shepherd was +startled by the blare of trumpets, and, peering out, beheld a cohort, sometimes +a legion, in march; and when the glittering crests were gone, and the +excitement incident to the intrusion over, he bent himself to evolve the +meaning of the eagles and gilded globes of the soldiery, and the charm of a +life so the opposite of his own. +</p> + +<p> +Yet these men, rude and simple as they were, had a knowledge and a wisdom of +their own. On Sabbaths they were accustomed to purify themselves, and go up +into the synagogues, and sit on the benches farthest from the ark. When the +chazzan bore the Torah round, none kissed it with greater zest; when the +sheliach read the text, none listened to the interpreter with more absolute +faith; and none took away with them more of the elder’s sermon, or gave +it more thought afterwards. In a verse of the Shema they found all the learning +and all the law of their simple lives—that their Lord was One God, and +that they must love him with all their souls. And they loved him, and such was +their wisdom, surpassing that of kings. +</p> + +<p> +While they talked, and before the first watch was over, one by one the +shepherds went to sleep, each lying where he had sat. +</p> + +<p> +The night, like most nights of the winter season in the hill country, was +clear, crisp, and sparkling with stars. There was no wind. The atmosphere +seemed never so pure, and the stillness was more than silence; it was a holy +hush, a warning that heaven was stooping low to whisper some good thing to the +listening earth. +</p> + +<p> +By the gate, hugging his mantle close, the watchman walked; at times he +stopped, attracted by a stir among the sleeping herds, or by a jackal’s +cry off on the mountain-side. The midnight was slow coming to him; but at last +it came. His task was done; now for the dreamless sleep with which labor +blesses its wearied children! He moved towards the fire, but paused; a light +was breaking around him, soft and white, like the moon’s. He waited +breathlessly. The light deepened; things before invisible came to view; he saw +the whole field, and all it sheltered. A chill sharper than that of the frosty +air—a chill of fear—smote him. He looked up; the stars were gone; +the light was dropping as from a window in the sky; as he looked, it became a +splendor; then, in terror, he cried, +</p> + +<p> +“Awake, awake!” +</p> + +<p> +Up sprang the dogs, and, howling, ran away. +</p> + +<p> +The herds rushed together bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +The men clambered to their feet, weapons in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” they asked, in one voice. +</p> + +<p> +“See!” cried the watchman, “the sky is on fire!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the light became intolerably bright, and they covered their eyes, and +dropped upon their knees; then, as their souls shrank with fear, they fell upon +their faces blind and fainting, and would have died had not a voice said to +them, +</p> + +<p> +“Fear not!” +</p> + +<p> +And they listened. +</p> + +<p> +“Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall +be to all people.” +</p> + +<p> +The voice, in sweetness and soothing more than human, and low and clear, +penetrated all their being, and filled them with assurance. They rose upon +their knees, and, looking worshipfully, beheld in the centre of a great glory +the appearance of a man, clad in a robe intensely white; above its shoulders +towered the tops of wings shining and folded; a star over its forehead glowed +with steady lustre, brilliant as Hesperus; its hands were stretched towards +them in blessing; its face was serene and divinely beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +They had often heard, and, in their simple way, talked, of angels; and they +doubted not now, but said, in their hearts, The glory of God is about us, and +this is he who of old came to the prophet by the river of Ulai. +</p> + +<p> +Directly the angel continued: +</p> + +<p> +“For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, which is +Christ the Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was a rest, while the words sank into their minds. +</p> + +<p> +“And this shall be a sign unto you,” the annunciator said next. +“Ye shall find the babe, wrapped in swaddling-clothes, lying in a +manger.” +</p> + +<p> +The herald spoke not again; his good tidings were told; yet he stayed awhile. +Suddenly the light, of which he seemed the centre, turned roseate and began to +tremble; then up, far as the men could see, there was flashing of white wings, +and coming and going of radiant forms, and voices as of a multitude chanting in +unison, +</p> + +<p> +“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards +men!” +</p> + +<p> +Not once the praise, but many times. +</p> + +<p> +Then the herald raised his eyes as seeking approval of one far off; his wings +stirred, and spread slowly and majestically, on their upper side white as snow, +in the shadow vari-tinted, like mother-of-pearl; when they were expanded many +cubits beyond his stature, he arose lightly, and, without effort, floated out +of view, taking the light up with him. Long after he was gone, down from the +sky fell the refrain in measure mellowed by distance, “Glory to God in +the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men.” +</p> + +<p> +When the shepherds came fully to their senses, they stared at each other +stupidly, until one of them said, “It was Gabriel, the Lord’s +messenger unto men.” +</p> + +<p> +None answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Christ the Lord is born; said he not so?” +</p> + +<p> +Then another recovered his voice, and replied, “That is what he +said.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did he not also say, in the city of David, which is our Bethlehem +yonder. And that we should find him a babe in swaddling-clothes?” +</p> + +<p> +“And lying in a manger.” +</p> + +<p> +The first speaker gazed into the fire thoughtfully, but at length said, like +one possessed of a sudden resolve, “There is but one place in Bethlehem +where there are mangers; but one, and that is in the cave near the old khan. +Brethren, let us go see this thing which has come to pass. The priests and +doctors have been a long time looking for the Christ. Now he is born, and the +Lord has given us a sign by which to know him. Let us go up and worship +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the flocks!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord will take care of them. Let us make haste.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they all arose and left the marah. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +Around the mountain and through the town they passed, and came to the gate of +the khan, where there was a man on watch. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We have seen and heard great things to-night,” they replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we, too, have seen great things, but heard nothing. What did you +hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go down to the cave in the enclosure, that we may be sure; then +we will tell you all. Come with us, and see for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a fool’s errand.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the Christ is born.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Christ! How do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go and see first.” +</p> + +<p> +The man laughed scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“The Christ indeed! How are you to know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was born this night, and is now lying in a manger, so we were told; +and there is but one place in Bethlehem with mangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Come with us.” +</p> + +<p> +They went through the court-yard without notice, although there were some up +even then talking about the wonderful light. The door of the cavern was open. A +lantern was burning within, and they entered unceremoniously. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you peace,” the watchman said to Joseph and the Beth +Dagonite. “Here are people looking for a child born this night, whom they +are to know by finding him in swaddling-clothes and lying in a manger.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the face of the stolid Nazarene was moved; turning away, he said, +“The child is here.” +</p> + +<p> +They were led to one of the mangers, and there the child was. The lantern was +brought, and the shepherds stood by mute. The little one made no sign; it was +as others just born. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the mother?” asked the watchman. +</p> + +<p> +One of the women took the baby, and went to Mary, lying near, and put it in her +arms. Then the bystanders collected about the two. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Christ!” said a shepherd, at last. +</p> + +<p> +“The Christ!” they all repeated, falling upon their knees in +worship. One of them repeated several times over, +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Lord, and his glory is above the earth and heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +And the simple men, never doubting, kissed the hem of the mother’s robe, +and with joyful faces departed. In the khan, to all the people aroused and +pressing about them, they told their story; and through the town, and all the +way back to the marah, they chanted the refrain of the angels, “Glory to +God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will towards men!” +</p> + +<p> +The story went abroad, confirmed by the light so generally seen; and the next +day, and for days thereafter, the cave was visited by curious crowds, of whom +some believed, though the greater part laughed and mocked. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +The eleventh day after the birth of the child in the cave, about mid-afternoon, +the three wise men approached Jerusalem by the road from Shechem. After +crossing Brook Cedron, they met many people, of whom none failed to stop and +look after them curiously. +</p> + +<p> +Judea was of necessity an international thoroughfare; a narrow ridge, raised, +apparently, by the pressure of the desert on the east, and the sea on the west, +was all she could claim to be; over the ridge, however, nature had stretched +the line of trade between the east and the south; and that was her wealth. In +other words, the riches of Jerusalem were the tolls she levied on passing +commerce. Nowhere else, consequently, unless in Rome, was there such constant +assemblage of so many people of so many different nations; in no other city was +a stranger less strange to the residents than within her walls and purlieus. +And yet these three men excited the wonder of all whom they met on the way to +the gates. +</p> + +<p> +A child belonging to some women sitting by the roadside opposite the Tombs of +the Kings saw the party coming; immediately it clapped its hands, and cried, +“Look, look! What pretty bells! What big camels!” +</p> + +<p> +The bells were silver; the camels, as we have seen, were of unusual size and +whiteness, and moved with singular stateliness; the trappings told of the +desert and of long journeys thereon, and also of ample means in possession of +the owners, who sat under the little canopies exactly as they appeared at the +rendezvous beyond the Jebel. Yet it was not the bells or the camels, or their +furniture, or the demeanor of the riders, that were so wonderful; it was the +question put by the man who rode foremost of the three. +</p> + +<p> +The approach to Jerusalem from the north is across a plain which dips +southward, leaving the Damascus Gate in a vale or hollow. The road is narrow, +but deeply cut by long use, and in places difficult on account of the cobbles +left loose and dry by the washing of the rains. On either side, however, there +stretched, in the old time, rich fields and handsome olive-groves, which must, +in luxurious growth, have been beautiful, especially to travellers fresh from +the wastes of the desert. In this road, the three stopped before the party in +front of the Tombs. +</p> + +<p> +“Good people,” said Balthasar, stroking his plaited beard, and +bending from his cot, “is not Jerusalem close by?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered the woman into whose arms the child had shrunk. +“If the trees on yon swell were a little lower you could see the towers +on the market-place.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar gave the Greek and the Hindoo a look, then asked, +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he that is born King of the Jews?” +</p> + +<p> +The women gazed at each other without reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not heard of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, tell everybody that we have seen his star in the east, and are +come to worship him.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the friends rode on. Of others they asked the same question, with +like result. A large company whom they met going to the Grotto of Jeremiah were +so astonished by the inquiry and the appearance of the travellers that they +turned about and followed them into the city. +</p> + +<p> +So much were the three occupied with the idea of their mission that they did +not care for the view which presently rose before them in the utmost +magnificence: for the village first to receive them on Bezetha; for Mizpah and +Olivet, over on their left; for the wall behind the village, with its forty +tall and solid towers, superadded partly for strength, partly to gratify the +critical taste of the kingly builder; for the same towered wall bending off to +the right, with many an angle, and here and there an embattled gate, up to the +three great white piles Phasaelus, Mariamne, and Hippicus; for Zion, tallest of +the hills, crowned with marble palaces, and never so beautiful; for the +glittering terraces of the temple on Moriah, admittedly one of the wonders of +the earth; for the regal mountains rimming the sacred city round about until it +seemed in the hollow of a mighty bowl. +</p> + +<p> +They came, at length, to a tower of great height and strength, overlooking the +gate which, at that time, answered to the present Damascus Gate, and marked the +meeting-place of the three roads from Shechem, Jericho, and Gibeon. A Roman +guard kept the passage-way. By this time the people following the camels formed +a train sufficient to draw the idlers hanging about the portal; so that when +Balthasar stopped to speak to the sentinel, the three became instantly the +centre of a close circle eager to hear all that passed. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you peace,” the Egyptian said, in a clear voice. +</p> + +<p> +The sentinel made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“We have come great distances in search of one who is born King of the +Jews. Can you tell us where he is?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldier raised the visor of his helmet, and called loudly. From an +apartment at the right of the passage an officer appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Give way,” he cried, to the crowd which now pressed closer in; and +as they seemed slow to obey, he advanced twirling his javelin vigorously, now +right, now left; and so he gained room. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you?” he asked of Balthasar, speaking in the idiom of +the city. +</p> + +<p> +And Balthasar answered in the same, +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he that is born King of the Jews?” +</p> + +<p> +“Herod?” asked the officer, confounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Herod’s kingship is from Cæsar; not Herod.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no other King of the Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“But we have seen the star of him we seek, and come to worship +him.” +</p> + +<p> +The Roman was perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +“Go farther,” he said, at last. “Go farther. I am not a Jew. +Carry the question to the doctors in the Temple, or to Hannas the priest, or, +better still, to Herod himself. If there be another King of the Jews, he will +find him.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he made way for the strangers, and they passed the gate. But, before +entering the narrow street, Balthasar lingered to say to his friends, “We +are sufficiently proclaimed. By midnight the whole city will have heard of us +and of our mission. Let us to the khan now.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +That evening, before sunset, some women were washing clothes on the upper step +of the flight that led down into the basin of the Pool of Siloam. They knelt +each before a broad bowl of earthenware. A girl at the foot of the steps kept +them supplied with water, and sang while she filled the jar. The song was +cheerful, and no doubt lightened their labor. Occasionally they would sit upon +their heels, and look up the slope of Ophel, and round to the summit of what is +now the Mount of Offence, then faintly glorified by the dying sun. +</p> + +<p> +While they plied their hands, rubbing and wringing the clothes in the bowls, +two other women came to them, each with an empty jar upon her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you,” one of the new-comers said. +</p> + +<p> +The laborers paused, sat up, wrung the water from their hands, and returned the +salutation. +</p> + +<p> +“It is nearly night—time to quit.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no end to work,” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But there is a time to rest, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“To hear what may be passing,” interposed another. +</p> + +<p> +“What news have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have not heard?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say the Christ is born,” said the newsmonger, plunging into +her story. +</p> + +<p> +It was curious to see the faces of the laborers brighten with interest; on the +other side down came the jars, which, in a moment, were turned into seats for +their owners. +</p> + +<p> +“The Christ!” the listeners cried. +</p> + +<p> +“So they say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody; it is common talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does anybody believe it?” +</p> + +<p> +“This afternoon three men came across Brook Cedron on the road from +Shechem,” the speaker replied, circumstantially, intending to smother +doubt. “Each one of them rode a camel spotless white, and larger than any +ever before seen in Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes and mouths of the auditors opened wide. +</p> + +<p> +“To prove how great and rich the men were,” the narrator continued, +“they sat under awnings of silk; the buckles of their saddles were of +gold, as was the fringe of their bridles; the bells were of silver, and made +real music. Nobody knew them; they looked as if they had come from the ends of +the world. Only one of them spoke, and of everybody on the road, even the women +and children, he asked this question—‘Where is he that is born King +of the Jews?’ No one gave them answer—no one understood what they +meant; so they passed on, leaving behind them this saying: ‘For we have +seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.’ They put the +question to the Roman at the gate; and he, no wiser than the simple people on +the road, sent them up to Herod.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are they now?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the khan. Hundreds have been to look at them already, and hundreds +more are going.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody knows. They are said to be Persians—wise men who talk with +the stars—prophets, it may be, like Elijah and Jeremiah.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do they mean by King of the Jews?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Christ, and that he is just born.” +</p> + +<p> +One of the women laughed, and resumed her work, saying, “Well, when I see +him I will believe.” +</p> + +<p> +Another followed her example: “And I—well, when I see him raise the +dead, I will believe.” +</p> + +<p> +A third said, quietly, “He has been a long time promised. It will be +enough for me to see him heal one leper.” +</p> + +<p> +And the party sat talking until the night came, and, with the help of the +frosty air, drove them home. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +Later in the evening, about the beginning of the first watch, there was an +assemblage in the palace on Mount Zion, of probably fifty persons, who never +came together except by order of Herod, and then only when he had demanded to +know some one or more of the deeper mysteries of the Jewish law and history. It +was, in short, a meeting of the teachers of the colleges, of the chief priests, +and of the doctors most noted in the city for learning—the leaders of +opinion, expounders of the different creeds; princes of the Sadducees; +Pharisaic debaters; calm, soft-spoken, stoical philosophers of the Essene +socialists. +</p> + +<p> +The chamber in which the session was held belonged to one of the interior +court-yards of the palace, and was quite large and Romanesque. The floor was +tessellated with marble blocks; the walls, unbroken by a window, were frescoed +in panels of saffron yellow; a divan occupied the centre of the apartment, +covered with cushions of bright-yellow cloth, and fashioned in form of the +letter U, the opening towards the doorway; in the arch of the divan, or, as it +were, in the bend of the letter, there was an immense bronze tripod, curiously +inlaid with gold and silver, over which a chandelier dropped from the ceiling, +having seven arms, each holding a lighted lamp. The divan and the lamp were +purely Jewish. +</p> + +<p> +The company sat upon the divan after the style of Orientals, in costume +singularly uniform, except as to color. They were mostly men advanced in years; +immense beards covered their faces; to their large noses were added the effects +of large black eyes, deeply shaded by bold brows; their demeanor was grave, +dignified, even patriarchal. In brief, their session was that of the Sanhedrim. +</p> + +<p> +He who sat before the tripod, however, in the place which may be called the +head of the divan, having all the rest of his associates on his right and left, +and, at the same time, before him, evidently president of the meeting, would +have instantly absorbed the attention of a spectator. He had been cast in large +mould, but was now shrunken and stooped to ghastliness; his white robe dropped +from his shoulders in folds that gave no hint of muscle or anything but an +angular skeleton. His hands, half concealed by sleeves of silk, white and +crimson striped, were clasped upon his knees. When he spoke, sometimes the +first finger of the right hand extended tremulously; he seemed incapable of +other gesture. But his head was a splendid dome. A few hairs, whiter than +fine-drawn silver, fringed the base; over a broad, full-sphered skull the skin +was drawn close, and shone in the light with positive brilliance; the temples +were deep hollows, from which the forehead beetled like a wrinkled crag; the +eyes were wan and dim; the nose was pinched; and all the lower face was muffed +in a beard flowing and venerable as Aaron’s. Such was Hillel the +Babylonian! The line of prophets, long extinct in Israel, was now succeeded by +a line of scholars, of whom he was first in learning—a prophet in all but +the divine inspiration! At the age of one hundred and six, he was still Rector +of the Great College. +</p> + +<p> +On the table before him lay outspread a roll or volume of parchment inscribed +with Hebrew characters; behind him, in waiting, stood a page richly habited. +</p> + +<p> +There had been discussion, but at this moment of introduction the company had +reached a conclusion; each one was in an attitude of rest, and the venerable +Hillel, without moving, called the page. +</p> + +<p> +“Hist!” +</p> + +<p> +The youth advanced respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Go tell the king we are ready to give him answer.” +</p> + +<p> +The boy hurried away. +</p> + +<p> +After a time two officers entered and stopped, one on each side the door; after +them slowly followed a most striking personage—an old man clad in a +purple robe bordered with scarlet, and girt to his waist by a band of gold +linked so fine that it was pliable as leather; the latchets of his shoes +sparkled with precious stones; a narrow crown wrought in filigree shone outside +a tarbooshe of softest crimson plush, which, encasing his head, fell down the +neck and shoulders, leaving the throat and neck exposed. Instead of a seal, a +dagger dangled from his belt. He walked with a halting step, leaning heavily +upon a staff. Not until he reached the opening of the divan, did he pause or +look up from the floor; then, as for the first time conscious of the company, +and roused by their presence, he raised himself, and looked haughtily round, +like one startled and searching for an enemy—so dark, suspicious, and +threatening was the glance. Such was Herod the Great—a body broken by +diseases, a conscience seared with crimes, a mind magnificently capable, a soul +fit for brotherhood with the Cæsars; now seven-and-sixty years old, but +guarding his throne with a jealousy never so vigilant, a power never so +despotic, and a cruelty never so inexorable. +</p> + +<p> +There was a general movement on the part of the assemblage—a bending +forward in salaam by the more aged, a rising-up by the more courtierly, +followed by low genuflections, hands upon the beard or breast. +</p> + +<p> +His observations taken, Herod moved on until at the tripod opposite the +venerable Hillel, who met his cold glance with an inclination of the head, and +a slight lifting of the hands. +</p> + +<p> +“The answer!” said the king, with imperious simplicity, addressing +Hillel, and planting his staff before him with both hands. “The +answer!” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the patriarch glowed mildly, and, raising his head, and looking the +inquisitor full in the face, he answered, his associates giving him closest +attention, +</p> + +<p> +“With thee, O king, be the peace of God, of Abraham, Isaac, and +Jacob!” +</p> + +<p> +His manner was that of invocation; changing it, he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast demanded of us where the Christ should be born.” +</p> + +<p> +The king bowed, though the evil eyes remained fixed upon the sage’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, O king, speaking for myself, and all my brethren here, not one +dissenting, I say, in Bethlehem of Judea.” +</p> + +<p> +Hillel glanced at the parchment on the tripod; and, pointing with his tremulous +finger, continued, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it is written by the +prophet, ‘And thou, Bethlehem, in the land of Judea, art not the least +among the princes of Judah; for out of thee shall come a governor that shall +rule my people Israel.’” +</p> + +<p> +Herod’s face was troubled, and his eyes fell upon the parchment while he +thought. Those beholding him scarcely breathed; they spoke not, nor did he. At +length he turned about and left the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Brethren,” said Hillel, “we are dismissed.” +</p> + +<p> +The company then arose, and in groups departed. +</p> + +<p> +“Simeon,” said Hillel again. +</p> + +<p> +A man, quite fifty years old, but in the hearty prime of life, answered and +came to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Take up the sacred parchment, my son; roll it tenderly.” +</p> + +<p> +The order was obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Now lend me thy arm; I will to the litter.” +</p> + +<p> +The strong man stooped; with his withered hands the old one took the offered +support, and, rising, moved feebly to the door. +</p> + +<p> +So departed the famous Rector, and Simeon, his son, who was to be his successor +in wisdom, learning, and office. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +Yet later in the evening the wise men were lying in a lewen of the khan awake. +The stones which served them as pillows raised their heads so they could look +out of the open arch into the depths of the sky; and as they watched the +twinkling of the stars, they thought of the next manifestation. How would it +come? What would it be? They were in Jerusalem at last; they had asked at the +gate for Him they sought; they had borne witness of his birth; it remained only +to find him; and as to that, they placed all trust in the Spirit. Men listening +for the voice of God, or waiting a sign from Heaven, cannot sleep. +</p> + +<p> +While they were in this condition, a man stepped in under the arch, darkening +the lewen. +</p> + +<p> +“Awake!” he said to them; “I bring you a message which will +not be put off.” +</p> + +<p> +They all sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“From whom?” asked the Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +“Herod the king.” +</p> + +<p> +Each one felt his spirit thrill. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you not the steward of the khan?” Balthasar asked next. +</p> + +<p> +“I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“What would the king with us?” +</p> + +<p> +“His messenger is without; let him answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him, then, to abide our coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were right, O my brother!” said the Greek, when the steward +was gone. “The question put to the people on the road, and to the guard +at the gate, has given us quick notoriety. I am impatient; let us up +quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +They arose, put on their sandals, girt their mantles about them, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“I salute you, and give you peace, and pray your pardon; but my master, +the king, has sent me to invite you to the palace, where he would have speech +with you privately.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus the messenger discharged his duty. +</p> + +<p> +A lamp hung in the entrance, and by its light they looked at each other, and +knew the Spirit was upon them. Then the Egyptian stepped to the steward, and +said, so as not to be heard by the others, “You know where our goods are +stored in the court, and where our camels are resting. While we are gone, make +all things ready for our departure, if it should be needful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go your way assured; trust me,” the steward replied. +</p> + +<p> +“The king’s will is our will,” said Balthasar to the +messenger. “We will follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +The streets of the Holy City were narrow then as now, but not so rough and +foul; for the great builder, not content with beauty, enforced cleanliness and +convenience also. Following their guide, the brethren proceeded without a word. +Through the dim starlight, made dimmer by the walls on both sides, sometimes +almost lost under bridges connecting the house-tops, out of a low ground they +ascended a hill. At last they came to a portal reared across the way. In the +light of fires blazing before it in two great braziers, they caught a glimpse +of the structure, and also of some guards leaning motionlessly upon their arms. +They passed into a building unchallenged. Then by passages and arched halls; +through courts, and under colonnades not always lighted; up long flights of +stairs, past innumerable cloisters and chambers, they were conducted into a +tower of great height. Suddenly the guide halted, and, pointing through an open +door, said to them, +</p> + +<p> +“Enter. The king is there.” +</p> + +<p> +The air of the chamber was heavy with the perfume of sandal-wood, and all the +appointments within were effeminately rich. Upon the floor, covering the +central space, a tufted rug was spread, and upon that a throne was set. The +visitors had but time, however, to catch a confused idea of the place—of +carved and gilt ottomans and couches; of fans and jars and musical instruments; +of golden candlesticks glittering in their own lights; of walls painted in the +style of the voluptuous Grecian school, one look at which had made a Pharisee +hide his head with holy horror. Herod, sitting upon the throne to receive them, +clad as when at the conference with the doctors and lawyers, claimed all their +minds. +</p> + +<p> +At the edge of the rug, to which they advanced uninvited, they prostrated +themselves. The king touched a bell. An attendant came in, and placed three +stools before the throne. +</p> + +<p> +“Seat yourselves,” said the monarch, graciously. +</p> + +<p> +“From the North Gate,” he continued, when they were at rest, +“I had this afternoon report of the arrival of three strangers, curiously +mounted, and appearing as if from far countries. Are you the men?” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian took the sign from the Greek and the Hindoo, and answered, with +the profoundest salaam, “Were we other than we are, the mighty Herod, +whose fame is as incense to the whole world, would not have sent for us. We may +not doubt that we are the strangers.” +</p> + +<p> +Herod acknowledged the speech with a wave of the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you? Whence do you come?” he asked, adding significantly, +“Let each speak for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +In turn they gave him account, referring simply to the cities and lands of +their birth, and the routes by which they came to Jerusalem. Somewhat +disappointed, Herod plied them more directly. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the question you put to the officer at the gate?” +</p> + +<p> +“We asked him, Where is he that is born King of the Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see now why the people were so curious. You excite me no less. Is +there another King of the Jews?” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian did not blanch. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one newly born.” +</p> + +<p> +An expression of pain knit the dark face of the monarch, as if his mind were +swept by a harrowing recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to me, not to me!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Possibly the accusing images of his murdered children flitted before him; +recovering from the emotion, whatever it was, he asked, steadily, “Where +is the new king?” +</p> + +<p> +“That, O king, is what we would ask.” +</p> + +<p> +“You bring me a wonder—a riddle surpassing any of +Solomon’s,” the inquisitor said next. “As you see, I am in +the time of life when curiosity is as ungovernable as it was in childhood, when +to trifle with it is cruelty. Tell me further, and I will honor you as kings +honor each other. Give me all you know about the newly born, and I will join +you in the search for him; and when we have found him, I will do what you wish; +I will bring him to Jerusalem, and train him in kingcraft; I will use my grace +with Cæsar for his promotion and glory. Jealousy shall not come between us, so +I swear. But tell me first how, so widely separated by seas and deserts, you +all came to hear of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you truly, O king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak on,” said Herod. +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar raised himself erect, and said, solemnly, +</p> + +<p> +“There is an Almighty God.” +</p> + +<p> +Herod was visibly startled. +</p> + +<p> +“He bade us come hither, promising that we should find the Redeemer of +the World; that we should see and worship him, and bear witness that he was +come; and, as a sign, we were each given to see a star. His Spirit stayed with +us. O king, his Spirit is with us now!” +</p> + +<p> +An overpowering feeling seized the three. The Greek with difficulty restrained +an outcry. Herod’s gaze darted quickly from one to the other; he was more +suspicious and dissatisfied than before. +</p> + +<p> +“You are mocking me,” he said. “If not, tell me more. What is +to follow the coming of the new king?” +</p> + +<p> +“The salvation of men.” +</p> + +<p> +“From what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Their wickedness.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the divine agencies—Faith, Love, and Good Works.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then”—Herod paused, and from his look no man could have said +with what feeling he continued—“you are the heralds of the Christ. +Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar bowed low. +</p> + +<p> +“We are your servants, O king.” +</p> + +<p> +The monarch touched a bell, and the attendant appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring the gifts,” the master said. +</p> + +<p> +The attendant went out, but in a little while returned, and, kneeling before +the guests, gave to each one an outer robe or mantle of scarlet and blue, and a +girdle of gold. They acknowledged the honors with Eastern prostrations. +</p> + +<p> +“A word further,” said Herod, when the ceremony was ended. +“To the officer of the gate, and but now to me, you spoke of seeing a +star in the east.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Balthasar, “his star, the star of the newly +born.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time did it appear?” +</p> + +<p> +“When we were bidden come hither.” +</p> + +<p> +Herod arose, signifying the audience was over. Stepping from the throne towards +them, he said, with all graciousness, +</p> + +<p> +“If, as I believe, O illustrious men, you are indeed the heralds of the +Christ just born, know that I have this night consulted those wisest in things +Jewish, and they say with one voice he should be born in Bethlehem of Judea. I +say to you, go thither; go and search diligently for the young child; and when +you have found him bring me word again, that I may come and worship him. To +your going there shall be no let or hindrance. Peace be with you!” +</p> + +<p> +And, folding his robe about him, he left the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Directly the guide came, and led them back to the street, and thence to the +khan, at the portal of which the Greek said, impulsively, “Let us to +Bethlehem, O brethren, as the king has advised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” cried the Hindoo. “The Spirit burns within me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” said Balthasar, with equal warmth. “The camels +are ready.” +</p> + +<p> +They gave gifts to the steward, mounted into their saddles, received directions +to the Joppa Gate, and departed. At their approach the great valves were +unbarred, and they passed out into the open country, taking the road so lately +travelled by Joseph and Mary. As they came up out of Hinnom, on the plain of +Rephaim, a light appeared, at first wide-spread and faint. Their pulses +fluttered fast. The light intensified rapidly; they closed their eyes against +its burning brilliance: when they dared look again, lo! the star, perfect as +any in the heavens, but low down and moving slowly before them. And they folded +their hands, and shouted, and rejoiced with exceeding great joy. +</p> + +<p> +“God is with us! God is with us!” they repeated, in frequent cheer, +all the way, until the star, rising out of the valley beyond Mar Elias, stood +still over a house up on the slope of the hill near the town. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p> +It was now the beginning of the third watch, and at Bethlehem the morning was +breaking over the mountains in the east, but so feebly that it was yet night in +the valley. The watchman on the roof of the old khan, shivering in the chilly +air, was listening for the first distinguishable sounds with which life, +awakening, greets the dawn, when a light came moving up the hill towards the +house. He thought it a torch in some one’s hand; next moment he thought +it a meteor; the brilliance grew, however, until it became a star. Sore afraid, +he cried out, and brought everybody within the walls to the roof. The +phenomenon, in eccentric motion, continued to approach; the rocks, trees, and +roadway under it shone as in a glare of lightning; directly its brightness +became blinding. The more timid of the beholders fell upon their knees, and +prayed, with their faces hidden; the boldest, covering their eyes, crouched, +and now and then snatched glances fearfully. Afterwhile the khan and everything +thereabout lay under the intolerable radiance. Such as dared look beheld the +star standing still directly over the house in front of the cave where the +Child had been born. +</p> + +<p> +In the height of this scene, the wise men came up, and at the gate dismounted +from their camels, and shouted for admission. When the steward so far mastered +his terror as to give them heed, he drew the bars and opened to them. The +camels looked spectral in the unnatural light, and, besides their +outlandishness, there were in the faces and manner of the three visitors an +eagerness and exaltation which still further excited the keeper’s fears +and fancy; he fell back, and for a time could not answer the question they put +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is not this Bethlehem of Judea?” +</p> + +<p> +But others came, and by their presence gave him assurance. +</p> + +<p> +“No, this is but the khan; the town lies farther on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there not here a child newly born?” +</p> + +<p> +The bystanders turned to each other marvelling, though some of them answered, +“Yes, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Show us to him!” said the Greek, impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Show us to him!” cried Balthasar, breaking through his gravity; +“for we have seen his star, even that which ye behold over the house, and +are come to worship him.” +</p> + +<p> +The Hindoo clasped his hands, exclaiming, “God indeed lives! Make haste, +make haste! The Savior is found. Blessed, blessed are we above men!” +</p> + +<p> +The people from the roof came down and followed the strangers as they were +taken through the court and out into the enclosure; at sight of the star yet +above the cave, though less candescent than before, some turned back afraid; +the greater part went on. As the strangers neared the house, the orb arose; +when they were at the door, it was high up overhead vanishing; when they +entered, it went out lost to sight. And to the witnesses of what then took +place came a conviction that there was a divine relation between the star and +the strangers, which extended also to at least some of the occupants of the +cave. When the door was opened, they crowded in. +</p> + +<p> +The apartment was lighted by a lantern enough to enable the strangers to find +the mother, and the child awake in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the child thine?” asked Balthasar of Mary. +</p> + +<p> +And she who had kept all the things in the least affecting the little one, and +pondered them in her heart, held it up in the light, saying, +</p> + +<p> +“He is my son!” +</p> + +<p> +And they fell down and worshipped him. +</p> + +<p> +They saw the child was as other children: about its head was neither nimbus nor +material crown; its lips opened not in speech; if it heard their expressions of +joy, their invocations, their prayers, it made no sign whatever, but, +baby-like, looked longer at the flame in the lantern than at them. +</p> + +<p> +In a little while they arose, and, returning to the camels, brought gifts of +gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and laid them before the child, abating nothing +of their worshipful speeches; of which no part is given, for the thoughtful +know that the pure worship of the pure heart was then what it is now, and has +always been, an inspired song. +</p> + +<p> +And this was the Savior they had come so far to find! +</p> + +<p> +Yet they worshipped without a doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Why? +</p> + +<p> +Their faith rested upon the signs sent them by him whom we have since come to +know as the Father; and they were of the kind to whom his promises were so +all-sufficient that they asked nothing about his ways. Few there were who had +seen the signs and heard the promises—the Mother and Joseph, the +shepherds, and the Three—yet they all believed alike; that is to say, in +this period of the plan of salvation, God was all and the Child nothing. But +look forward, O reader! A time will come when the signs will all proceed from +the Son. Happy they who then believe in him! +</p> + +<p> +Let us wait that period. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book02"></a>BOOK SECOND</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“There is a fire<br> +And motion of the soul which will not dwell<br> +In its own narrow being, but aspire<br> +Beyond the fitting medium of desire;<br> +And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,<br> +Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire<br> +Of aught but rest.”<br> +<br> +Childe Harold. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +It is necessary now to carry the reader forward twenty-one years, to the +beginning of the administration of Valerius Gratus, the fourth imperial +governor of Judea—a period which will be remembered as rent by political +agitations in Jerusalem, if, indeed, it be not the precise time of the opening +of the final quarrel between the Jew and the Roman. +</p> + +<p> +In the interval Judea had been subjected to changes affecting her in many ways, +but in nothing so much as her political status. Herod the Great died within one +year after the birth of the Child—died so miserably that the Christian +world had reason to believe him overtaken by the Divine wrath. Like all great +rulers who spend their lives in perfecting the power they create, he dreamed of +transmitting his throne and crown—of being the founder of a dynasty. With +that intent, he left a will dividing his territories between his three sons, +Antipas, Philip, and Archelaus, of whom the last was appointed to succeed to +the title. The testament was necessarily referred to Augustus, the emperor, who +ratified all its provisions with one exception: he withheld from Archelaus the +title of king until he proved his capacity and loyalty; in lieu thereof, he +created him ethnarch, and as such permitted him to govern nine years, when, for +misconduct and inability to stay the turbulent elements that grew and +strengthened around him, he was sent into Gaul as an exile. +</p> + +<p> +Cæsar was not content with deposing Archelaus; he struck the people of +Jerusalem in a manner that touched their pride, and keenly wounded the +sensibilities of the haughty habitues of the Temple. He reduced Judea to a +Roman province, and annexed it to the prefecture of Syria. So, instead of a +king ruling royally from the palace left by Herod on Mount Zion, the city fell +into the hands of an officer of the second grade, an appointee called +procurator, who communicated with the court in Rome through the Legate of +Syria, residing in Antioch. To make the hurt more painful, the procurator was +not permitted to establish himself in Jerusalem; Cæsarea was his seat of +government. Most humiliating, however, most exasperating, most studied, +Samaria, of all the world the most despised—Samaria was joined to Judea +as a part of the same province! What ineffable misery the bigoted Separatists +or Pharisees endured at finding themselves elbowed and laughed at in the +procurator’s presence in Cæsarea by the devotees of Gerizim! +</p> + +<p> +In this rain of sorrows, one consolation, and one only, remained to the fallen +people: the high-priest occupied the Herodian palace in the market-place, and +kept the semblance of a court there. What his authority really was is a matter +of easy estimate. Judgment of life and death was retained by the procurator. +Justice was administered in the name and according to the decretals of Rome. +Yet more significant, the royal house was jointly occupied by the imperial +exciseman, and all his corps of assistants, registrars, collectors, publicans, +informers, and spies. Still, to the dreamers of liberty to come, there was a +certain satisfaction in the fact that the chief ruler in the palace was a Jew. +His mere presence there day after day kept them reminded of the covenants and +promises of the prophets, and the ages when Jehovah governed the tribes through +the sons of Aaron; it was to them a certain sign that he had not abandoned +them: so their hopes lived, and served their patience, and helped them wait +grimly the son of Judah who was to rule Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Judea had been a Roman province eighty years and more—ample time for the +Cæsars to study the idiosyncrasies of the people—time enough, at least, +to learn that the Jew, with all his pride, could be quietly governed if his +religion were respected. Proceeding upon that policy, the predecessors of +Gratus had carefully abstained from interfering with any of the sacred +observances of their subjects. But he chose a different course: almost his +first official act was to expel Hannas from the high-priesthood, and give the +place to Ishmael, son of Fabus. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the act was directed by Augustus, or proceeded from Gratus himself, its +impolicy became speedily apparent. The reader shall be spared a chapter on +Jewish politics; a few words upon the subject, however, are essential to such +as may follow the succeeding narration critically. At this time, leaving origin +out of view, there were in Judea the party of the nobles and the Separatist or +popular party. Upon Herod’s death, the two united against Archelaus; from +temple to palace, from Jerusalem to Rome, they fought him; sometimes with +intrigue, sometimes with the actual weapons of war. More than once the holy +cloisters on Moriah resounded with the cries of fighting-men. Finally, they +drove him into exile. Meantime throughout this struggle the allies had their +diverse objects in view. The nobles hated Joazar, the high-priest; the +Separatists, on the other hand, were his zealous adherents. When Herod’s +settlement went down with Archelaus, Joazar shared the fall. Hannas, the son of +Seth, was selected by the nobles to fill the great office; thereupon the allies +divided. The induction of the Sethian brought them face to face in fierce +hostility. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the struggle with the unfortunate ethnarch, the nobles had +found it expedient to attach themselves to Rome. Discerning that when the +existing settlement was broken up some form of government must needs follow, +they suggested the conversion of Judea into a province. The fact furnished the +Separatists an additional cause for attack; and, when Samaria was made part of +the province, the nobles sank into a minority, with nothing to support them but +the imperial court and the prestige of their rank and wealth; yet for fifteen +years—down, indeed, to the coming of Valerius Gratus—they managed +to maintain themselves in both palace and Temple. +</p> + +<p> +Hannas, the idol of his party, had used his power faithfully in the interest of +his imperial patron. A Roman garrison held the Tower of Antonia; a Roman guard +kept the gates of the palace; a Roman judge dispensed justice civil and +criminal; a Roman system of taxation, mercilessly executed, crushed both city +and country; daily, hourly, and in a thousand ways, the people were bruised and +galled, and taught the difference between a life of independence and a life of +subjection; yet Hannas kept them in comparative quiet. Rome had no truer +friend; and he made his loss instantly felt. Delivering his vestments to +Ishmael, the new appointee, he walked from the courts of the Temple into the +councils of the Separatists, and became the head of a new combination, +Bethusian and Sethian. +</p> + +<p> +Gratus, the procurator, left thus without a party, saw the fires which, in the +fifteen years, had sunk into sodden smoke begin to glow with returning life. A +month after Ishmael took the office, the Roman found it necessary to visit him +in Jerusalem. When from the walls, hooting and hissing him, the Jews beheld his +guard enter the north gate of the city and march to the Tower of Antonia, they +understood the real purpose of the visit—a full cohort of legionaries was +added to the former garrison, and the keys of their yoke could now be tightened +with impunity. If the procurator deemed it important to make an example, alas +for the first offender! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +With the foregoing explanation in mind, the reader is invited to look into one +of the gardens of the palace on Mount Zion. The time was noonday in the middle +of July, when the heat of summer was at its highest. +</p> + +<p> +The garden was bounded on every side by buildings, which in places arose two +stories, with verandas shading the doors and windows of the lower story, while +retreating galleries, guarded by strong balustrades, adorned and protected the +upper. Here and there, moreover, the structures fell into what appeared low +colonnades, permitting the passage of such winds as chanced to blow, and +allowing other parts of the house to be seen, the better to realize its +magnitude and beauty. The arrangement of the ground was equally pleasant to the +eye. There were walks, and patches of grass and shrubbery, and a few large +trees, rare specimens of the palm, grouped with the carob, apricot, and walnut. +In all directions the grade sloped gently from the centre, where there was a +reservoir, or deep marble basin, broken at intervals by little gates which, +when raised, emptied the water into sluices bordering the walks—a cunning +device for the rescue of the place from the aridity too prevalent elsewhere in +the region. +</p> + +<p> +Not far from the fountain, there was a small pool of clear water nourishing a +clump of cane and oleander, such as grow on the Jordan and down by the Dead +Sea. Between the clump and the pool, unmindful of the sun shining full upon +them in the breathless air, two boys, one about nineteen, the other seventeen, +sat engaged in earnest conversation. +</p> + +<p> +They were both handsome, and, at first glance, would have been pronounced +brothers. Both had hair and eyes black; their faces were deeply browned; and, +sitting, they seemed of a size proper for the difference in their ages. +</p> + +<p> +The elder was bareheaded. A loose tunic, dropping to the knees, was his attire +complete, except sandals and a light-blue mantle spread under him on the seat. +The costume left his arms and legs exposed, and they were brown as the face; +nevertheless, a certain grace of manner, refinement of features, and culture of +voice decided his rank. The tunic, of softest woollen, gray-tinted, at the +neck, sleeves, and edge of the skirt bordered with red, and bound to the waist +by a tasselled silken cord, certified him the Roman he was. And if in speech he +now and then gazed haughtily at his companion and addressed him as an inferior, +he might almost be excused, for he was of a family noble even in Rome—a +circumstance which in that age justified any assumption. In the terrible wars +between the first Cæsar and his great enemies, a Messala had been the friend +of Brutus. After Philippi, without sacrifice of his honor, he and the conqueror +became reconciled. Yet later, when Octavius disputed for the empire, Messala +supported him. Octavius, as the Emperor Augustus, remembered the service, and +showered the family with honors. Among other things, Judea being reduced to a +province, he sent the son of his old client or retainer to Jerusalem, charged +with the receipt and management of the taxes levied in that region; and in that +service the son had since remained, sharing the palace with the high-priest. +The youth just described was his son, whose habit it was to carry about with +him all too faithfully a remembrance of the relation between his grandfather +and the great Romans of his day. +</p> + +<p> +The associate of the Messala was slighter in form, and his garments were of +fine white linen and of the prevalent style in Jerusalem; a cloth covered his +head, held by a yellow cord, and arranged so as to fall away from the forehead +down low over the back of the neck. An observer skilled in the distinctions of +race, and studying his features more than his costume, would have soon +discovered him to be of Jewish descent. The forehead of the Roman was high and +narrow, his nose sharp and aquiline, while his lips were thin and straight, and +his eyes cold and close under the brows. The front of the Israelite, on the +other hand, was low and broad; his nose long, with expanded nostrils; his upper +lip, slightly shading the lower one, short and curving to the dimpled corners, +like a Cupid’s bow; points which, in connection with the round chin, full +eyes, and oval cheeks reddened with a wine-like glow, gave his face the +softness, strength, and beauty peculiar to his race. The comeliness of the +Roman was severe and chaste, that of the Jew rich and voluptuous. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you not say the new procurator is to arrive to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +The question proceeded from the younger of the friends, and was couched in +Greek, at the time, singularly enough, the language everywhere prevalent in the +politer circles of Judea; having passed from the palace into the camp and +college; thence, nobody knew exactly when or how, into the Temple itself, and, +for that matter, into precincts of the Temple far beyond the gates and +cloisters—precincts of a sanctity intolerable for a Gentile. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to-morrow,” Messala answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard Ishmael, the new governor in the palace—you call him high +priest—tell my father so last night. The news had been more credible, I +grant you, coming from an Egyptian, who is of a race that has forgotten what +truth is, or even from an Idumaean, whose people never knew what truth was; +but, to make quite certain, I saw a centurion from the Tower this morning, and +he told me preparations were going on for the reception; that the armorers were +furbishing the helmets and shields, and regilding the eagles and globes; and +that apartments long unused were being cleansed and aired as if for an addition +to the garrison—the body-guard, probably, of the great man.” +</p> + +<p> +A perfect idea of the manner in which the answer was given cannot be conveyed, +as its fine points continually escape the power behind the pen. The +reader’s fancy must come to his aid; and for that he must be reminded +that reverence as a quality of the Roman mind was fast breaking down, or, +rather, it was becoming unfashionable. The old religion had nearly ceased to be +a faith; at most it was a mere habit of thought and expression, cherished +principally by the priests who found service in the Temple profitable, and the +poets who, in the turn of their verses, could not dispense with the familiar +deities: there are singers of this age who are similarly given. As philosophy +was taking the place of religion, satire was fast substituting reverence; +insomuch that in Latin opinion it was to every speech, even to the little +diatribes of conversation, as salt to viands, and aroma to wine. The young +Messala, educated in Rome, but lately returned, had caught the habit and +manner; the scarce perceptible movement of the outer corner of the lower +eyelid, the decided curl of the corresponding nostril, and a languid utterance +affected as the best vehicle to convey the idea of general indifference, but +more particularly because of the opportunities it afforded for certain +rhetorical pauses thought to be of prime importance to enable the listener to +take the happy conceit or receive the virus of the stinging epigram. Such a +stop occurred in the answer just given, at the end of the allusion to the +Egyptian and Idumaean. The color in the Jewish lad’s cheeks deepened, and +he may not have heard the rest of the speech, for he remained silent, looking +absently into the depths of the pool. +</p> + +<p> +“Our farewell took place in this garden. ‘The peace of the Lord go +with you!’—your last words. ‘The gods keep you!’ I +said. Do you remember? How many years have passed since then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Five,” answered the Jew, gazing into the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you have reason to be thankful to—whom shall I say? The +gods? No matter. You have grown handsome; the Greeks would call you +beautiful—happy achievement of the years! If Jupiter would stay content +with one Ganymede, what a cup-bearer you would make for the emperor! Tell me, +my Judah, how the coming of the procurator is of such interest to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Judah bent his large eyes upon the questioner; the gaze was grave and +thoughtful, and caught the Roman’s, and held it while he replied, +“Yes, five years. I remember the parting; you went to Rome; I saw you +start, and cried, for I love you. The years are gone, and you have come back to +me accomplished and princely—I do not jest; and yet—yet—I do +wish you were the Messala you went away.” +</p> + +<p> +The fine nostril of the satirist stirred, and he put on a longer drawl as he +said, “No, no; not a Ganymede—an oracle, my Judah. A few lessons +from my teacher of rhetoric hard by the Forum—I will give you a letter to +him when you become wise enough to accept a suggestion which I am reminded to +make you—a little practise of the art of mystery, and Delphi will receive +you as Apollo himself. At the sound of your solemn voice, the Pythia will come +down to you with her crown. Seriously, O my friend, in what am I not the +Messala I went away? I once heard the greatest logician in the world. His +subject was Disputation. One saying I remember—‘Understand your +antagonist before you answer him.’ Let me understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +The lad reddened under the cynical look to which he was subjected; yet he +replied, firmly, “You have availed yourself, I see, of your +opportunities; from your teachers you have brought away much knowledge and many +graces. You talk with the ease of a master, yet your speech carries a sting. My +Messala, when he went away, had no poison in his nature; not for the world +would he have hurt the feelings of a friend.” +</p> + +<p> +The Roman smiled as if complimented, and raised his patrician head a toss +higher. +</p> + +<p> +“O my solemn Judah, we are not at Dodona or Pytho. Drop the oracular, and +be plain. Wherein have I hurt you?” +</p> + +<p> +The other drew a long breath, and said, pulling at the cord about his waist, +“In the five years, I, too, have learned somewhat. Hillel may not be the +equal of the logician you heard, and Simeon and Shammai are, no doubt, inferior +to your master hard by the Forum. Their learning goes not out into forbidden +paths; those who sit at their feet arise enriched simply with knowledge of God, +the law, and Israel; and the effect is love and reverence for everything that +pertains to them. Attendance at the Great College, and study of what I heard +there, have taught me that Judea is not as she used to be. I know the space +that lies between an independent kingdom and the petty province Judea is. I +were meaner, viler, than a Samaritan not to resent the degradation of my +country. Ishmael is not lawfully high-priest, and he cannot be while the noble +Hannas lives; yet he is a Levite; one of the devoted who for thousands of years +have acceptably served the Lord God of our faith and worship. His—” +</p> + +<p> +Messala broke in upon him with a biting laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I understand you now. Ishmael, you say, is a usurper, yet to believe +an Idumaean sooner than Ishmael is to sting like an adder. By the drunken son +of Semele, what it is to be a Jew! All men and things, even heaven and earth, +change; but a Jew never. To him there is no backward, no forward; he is what +his ancestor was in the beginning. In this sand I draw you a +circle—there! Now tell me what more a Jew’s life is? Round and +round, Abraham here, Isaac and Jacob yonder, God in the middle. And the +circle—by the master of all thunders! the circle is too large. I draw it +again—” He stopped, put his thumb upon the ground, and swept the +fingers about it. “See, the thumb spot is the Temple, the finger-lines +Judea. Outside the little space is there nothing of value? The arts! Herod was +a builder; therefore he is accursed. Painting, sculpture! to look upon them is +sin. Poetry you make fast to your altars. Except in the synagogue, who of you +attempts eloquence? In war all you conquer in the six days you lose on the +seventh. Such your life and limit; who shall say no if I laugh at you? +Satisfied with the worship of such a people, what is your God to our Roman +Jove, who lends us his eagles that we may compass the universe with our arms? +Hillel, Simeon, Shammai, Abtalion—what are they to the masters who teach +that everything is worth knowing that can be known?” +</p> + +<p> +The Jew arose, his face much flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; keep your place, my Judah, keep your place,” Messala +cried, extending his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You mock me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen a little further. Directly”—the Roman smiled +derisively—“directly Jupiter and his whole family, Greek and Latin, +will come to me, as is their habit, and make an end of serious speech. I am +mindful of your goodness in walking from the old house of your fathers to +welcome me back and renew the love of our childhood—if we can. +‘Go,’ said my teacher, in his last lecture—‘Go, and, to +make your lives great, remember Mars reigns and Eros has found his eyes.’ +He meant love is nothing, war everything. It is so in Rome. Marriage is the +first step to divorce. Virtue is a tradesman’s jewel. Cleopatra, dying, +bequeathed her arts, and is avenged; she has a successor in every Roman’s +house. The world is going the same way; so, as to our future, down Eros, up +Mars! I am to be a soldier; and you, O my Judah, I pity you; what can you +be?” +</p> + +<p> +The Jew moved nearer the pool; Messala’s drawl deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I pity you, my fine Judah. From the college to the synagogue; then +to the Temple; then—oh, a crowning glory!—the seat in the +Sanhedrim. A life without opportunities; the gods help you! But I—” +</p> + +<p> +Judah looked at him in time to see the flush of pride that kindled in his +haughty face as he went on. +</p> + +<p> +“But I—ah, the world is not all conquered. The sea has islands +unseen. In the north there are nations yet unvisited. The glory of completing +Alexander’s march to the Far East remains to some one. See what +possibilities lie before a Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +Next instant he resumed his drawl. +</p> + +<p> +“A campaign into Africa; another after the Scythian; then—a legion! +Most careers end there; but not mine. I—by Jupiter! what a +conception!—I will give up my legion for a prefecture. Think of life in +Rome with money—money, wine, women, games—poets at the banquet, +intrigues in the court, dice all the year round. Such a rounding of life may +be—a fat prefecture, and it is mine. O my Judah, here is Syria! Judea is +rich; Antioch a capital for the gods. I will succeed Cyrenius, and +you—shall share my fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +The sophists and rhetoricians who thronged the public resorts of Rome, almost +monopolizing the business of teaching her patrician youth, might have approved +these sayings of Messala, for they were all in the popular vein; to the young +Jew, however, they were new, and unlike the solemn style of discourse and +conversation to which he was accustomed. He belonged, moreover, to a race whose +laws, modes, and habits of thought forbade satire and humor; very naturally, +therefore, he listened to his friend with varying feelings; one moment +indignant, then uncertain how to take him. The superior airs assumed had been +offensive to him in the beginning; soon they became irritating, and at last an +acute smart. Anger lies close by this point in all of us; and that the satirist +evoked in another way. To the Jew of the Herodian period patriotism was a +savage passion scarcely hidden under his common humor, and so related to his +history, religion, and God that it responded instantly to derision of them. +Wherefore it is not speaking too strongly to say that Messala’s progress +down to the last pause was exquisite torture to his hearer; at that point the +latter said, with a forced smile, +</p> + +<p> +“There are a few, I have heard, who can afford to make a jest of their +future; you convince me, O my Messala, that I am not one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +The Roman studied him; then replied, “Why not the truth in a jest as well +as a parable? The great Fulvia went fishing the other day; she caught more than +all the company besides. They said it was because the barb of her hook was +covered with gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you were not merely jesting?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Judah, I see I did not offer you enough,” the Roman answered, +quickly, his eyes sparkling. “When I am prefect, with Judea to enrich me, +I—will make you high-priest.” +</p> + +<p> +The Jew turned off angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not leave me,” said Messala. +</p> + +<p> +The other stopped irresolute. +</p> + +<p> +“Gods, Judah, how hot the sun shines!” cried the patrician, +observing his perplexity. “Let us seek a shade.” +</p> + +<p> +Judah answered, coldly, +</p> + +<p> +“We had better part. I wish I had not come. I sought a friend and find +a—” +</p> + +<p> +“Roman,” said Messala, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The hands of the Jew clenched, but controlling himself again, he started off. +Messala arose, and, taking the mantle from the bench, flung it over his +shoulder, and followed after; when he gained his side, he put his hand upon his +shoulder and walked with him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the way—my hand thus—we used to walk when we were +children. Let us keep it as far as the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently Messala was trying to be serious and kind, though he could not rid +his countenance of the habitual satirical expression. Judah permitted the +familiarity. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a boy; I am a man; let me talk like one.” +</p> + +<p> +The complacency of the Roman was superb. Mentor lecturing the young Telemachus +could not have been more at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe in the Parcae? Ah, I forgot, you are a Sadducee: the +Essenes are your sensible people; they believe in the sisters. So do I. How +everlastingly the three are in the way of our doing what we please! I sit down +scheming. I run paths here and there. Perpol! Just when I am reaching to take +the world in hand, I hear behind me the grinding of scissors. I look, and there +she is, the accursed Atropos! But, my Judah, why did you get mad when I spoke +of succeeding old Cyrenius? You thought I meant to enrich myself plundering +your Judea. Suppose so; it is what some Roman will do. Why not I?” +</p> + +<p> +Judah shortened his step. +</p> + +<p> +“There have been strangers in mastery of Judea before the Roman,” +he said, with lifted hand. “Where are they, Messala? She has outlived +them all. What has been will be again.” +</p> + +<p> +Messala put on his drawl. +</p> + +<p> +“The Parcae have believers outside the Essenes. Welcome, Judah, welcome +to the faith!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Messala, count me not with them. My faith rests on the rock which +was the foundation of the faith of my fathers back further than Abraham; on the +covenants of the Lord God of Israel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too much passion, my Judah. How my master would have been shocked had I +been guilty of so much heat in his presence! There were other things I had to +tell you, but I fear to now.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had gone a few yards, the Roman spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you can hear me now, especially as what I have to say concerns +yourself. I would serve you, O handsome as Ganymede; I would serve you with +real good-will. I love you—all I can. I told you I meant to be a soldier. +Why not you also? Why not you step out of the narrow circle which, as I have +shown, is all of noble life your laws and customs allow?” +</p> + +<p> +Judah made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are the wise men of our day?” Messala continued. “Not +they who exhaust their years quarrelling about dead things; about Baals, Joves, +and Jehovahs; about philosophies and religions. Give me one great name, O +Judah; I care not where you go to find it—to Rome, Egypt, the East, or +here in Jerusalem—Pluto take me if it belong not to a man who wrought his +fame out of the material furnished him by the present; holding nothing sacred +that did not contribute to the end, scorning nothing that did! How was it with +Herod? How with the Maccabees? How with the first and second Cæsars? Imitate +them. Begin now. At hand see—Rome, as ready to help you as she was the +Idumaean Antipater.” +</p> + +<p> +The Jewish lad trembled with rage; and, as the garden gate was close by, he +quickened his steps, eager to escape. +</p> + +<p> +“O Rome, Rome!” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Be wise,” continued Messala. “Give up the follies of Moses +and the traditions; see the situation as it is. Dare look the Parcae in the +face, and they will tell you, Rome is the world. Ask them of Judea, and they +will answer, She is what Rome wills.” +</p> + +<p> +They were now at the gate. Judah stopped, and took the hand gently from his +shoulder, and confronted Messala, tears trembling in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand you, because you are a Roman; you cannot understand +me—I am an Israelite. You have given me suffering to-day by convincing me +that we can never be the friends we have been—never! Here we part. The +peace of the God of my fathers abide with you!” +</p> + +<p> +Messala offered him his hand; the Jew walked on through the gateway. When he +was gone, the Roman was silent awhile; then he, too, passed through, saying to +himself, with a toss of the head, +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so. Eros is dead, Mars reigns!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +From the entrance to the Holy City, equivalent to what is now called St. +Stephen’s Gate, a street extended westwardly, on a line parallel with the +northern front of the Tower of Antonia, though a square from that famous +castle. Keeping the course as far as the Tyropoeon Valley, which it followed a +little way south, it turned and again ran west until a short distance beyond +what tradition tells us was the Judgment Gate, from whence it broke abruptly +south. The traveller or the student familiar with the sacred locality will +recognize the thoroughfare described as part of the Via Dolorosa—with +Christians of more interest, though of a melancholy kind, than any street in +the world. As the purpose in view does not at present require dealing with the +whole street, it will be sufficient to point out a house standing in the angle +last mentioned as marking the change of direction south, and which, as an +important centre of interest, needs somewhat particular description. +</p> + +<p> +The building fronted north and west, probably four hundred feet each way, and, +like most pretentious Eastern structures, was two stories in height, and +perfectly quadrangular. The street on the west side was about twelve feet wide, +that on the north not more than ten; so that one walking close to the walls, +and looking up at them, would have been struck by the rude, unfinished, +uninviting, but strong and imposing, appearance they presented; for they were +of stone laid in large blocks, undressed—on the outer side, in fact, just +as they were taken from the quarry. A critic of this age would have pronounced +the house fortelesque in style, except for the windows, with which it was +unusually garnished, and the ornate finish of the doorways or gates. The +western windows were four in number, the northern only two, all set on the line +of the second story in such manner as to overhang the thoroughfares below. The +gates were the only breaks of wall externally visible in the first story; and, +besides being so thickly riven with iron bolts as to suggest resistance to +battering-rams, they were protected by cornices of marble, handsomely executed, +and of such bold projection as to assure visitors well informed of the people +that the rich man who resided there was a Sadducee in politics and creed. +</p> + +<p> +Not long after the young Jew parted from the Roman at the palace up on the +Market-place, he stopped before the western gate of the house described, and +knocked. The wicket (a door hung in one of the valves of the gate) was opened +to admit him. He stepped in hastily, and failed to acknowledge the low salaam +of the porter. +</p> + +<p> +To get an idea of the interior arrangement of the structure, as well as to see +what more befell the youth, we will follow him. +</p> + +<p> +The passage into which he was admitted appeared not unlike a narrow tunnel with +panelled walls and pitted ceiling. There were benches of stone on both sides, +stained and polished by long use. Twelve or fifteen steps carried him into a +court-yard, oblong north and south, and in every quarter, except the east, +bounded by what seemed the fronts of two-story houses; of which the lower floor +was divided into lewens, while the upper was terraced and defended by strong +balustrading. The servants coming and going along the terraces; the noise of +millstones grinding; the garments fluttering from ropes stretched from point to +point; the chickens and pigeons in full enjoyment of the place; the goats, +cows, donkeys, and horses stabled in the lewens; a massive trough of water, +apparently for the common use, declared this court appurtenant to the domestic +management of the owner. Eastwardly there was a division wall broken by another +passage-way in all respects like the first one. +</p> + +<p> +Clearing the second passage, the young man entered a second court, spacious, +square, and set with shrubbery and vines, kept fresh and beautiful by water +from a basin erected near a porch on the north side. The lewens here were high, +airy, and shaded by curtains striped alternate white and red. The arches of the +lewens rested on clustered columns. A flight of steps on the south ascended to +the terraces of the upper story, over which great awnings were stretched as a +defence against the sun. Another stairway reached from the terraces to the +roof, the edge of which, all around the square, was defined by a sculptured +cornice, and a parapet of burned-clay tiling, sexangular and bright red. In +this quarter, moreover, there was everywhere observable a scrupulous neatness, +which, allowing no dust in the angles, not even a yellow leaf upon a shrub, +contributed quite as much as anything else to the delightful general effect; +insomuch that a visitor, breathing the sweet air, knew, in advance of +introduction, the refinement of the family he was about calling upon. +</p> + +<p> +A few steps within the second court, the lad turned to the right, and, choosing +a walk through the shrubbery, part of which was in flower, passed to the +stairway, and ascended to the terrace—a broad pavement of white and brown +flags closely laid, and much worn. Making way under the awning to a doorway on +the north side, he entered an apartment which the dropping of the screen behind +him returned to darkness. Nevertheless, he proceeded, moving over a tiled floor +to a divan, upon which he flung himself, face downwards, and lay at rest, his +forehead upon his crossed arms. +</p> + +<p> +About nightfall a woman came to the door and called; he answered, and she went +in. +</p> + +<p> +“Supper is over, and it is night. Is not my son hungry?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sick?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sleepy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your mother has asked for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the summer-house on the roof.” +</p> + +<p> +He stirred himself, and sat up. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Bring me something to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“What you please, Amrah. I am not sick, but indifferent. Life does not +seem as pleasant as it did this morning. A new ailment, O my Amrah; and you who +know me so well, who never failed me, may think of the things now that answer +for food and medicine. Bring me what you choose.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah’s questions, and the voice in which she put them—low, +sympathetic, and solicitous—were significant of an endeared relation +between the two. She laid her hand upon his forehead; then, as satisfied, went +out, saying, “I will see.” +</p> + +<p> +After a while she returned, bearing on a wooden platter a bowl of milk, some +thin cakes of white bread broken, a delicate paste of brayed wheat, a bird +broiled, and honey and salt. On one end of the platter there was a silver +goblet full of wine, on the other a brazen hand-lamp lighted. +</p> + +<p> +The room was then revealed: its walls smoothly plastered; the ceiling broken by +great oaken rafters, brown with rain stains and time; the floor of small +diamond-shaped white and blue tiles, very firm and enduring; a few stools with +legs carved in imitation of the legs of lions; a divan raised a little above +the floor, trimmed with blue cloth, and partially covered by an immense striped +woollen blanket or shawl—in brief, a Hebrew bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +The same light also gave the woman to view. Drawing a stool to the divan, she +placed the platter upon it, then knelt close by ready to serve him. Her face +was that of a woman of fifty, dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and at the moment +softened by a look of tenderness almost maternal. A white turban covered her +head, leaving the lobes of the ear exposed, and in them the sign that settled +her condition—an orifice bored by a thick awl. She was a slave, of +Egyptian origin, to whom not even the sacred fiftieth year could have brought +freedom; nor would she have accepted it, for the boy she was attending was her +life. She had nursed him through babyhood, tended him as a child, and could not +break the service. To her love he could never be a man. +</p> + +<p> +He spoke but once during the meal. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember, O my Amrah,” he said, “the Messala who used to +visit me here days at a time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He went to Rome some years ago, and is now back. I called upon him +to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +A shudder of disgust seized the lad. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew something had happened,” she said, deeply interested. +“I never liked the Messala. Tell me all.” +</p> + +<p> +But he fell into musing, and to her repeated inquiries only said, “He is +much changed, and I shall have nothing more to do with him.” +</p> + +<p> +When Amrah took the platter away, he also went out, and up from the terrace to +the roof. +</p> + +<p> +The reader is presumed to know somewhat of the uses of the house-top in the +East. In the matter of customs, climate is a lawgiver everywhere. The Syrian +summer day drives the seeker of comfort into the darkened lewen; night, +however, calls him forth early, and the shadows deepening over the +mountain-sides seem veils dimly covering Circean singers; but they are far off, +while the roof is close by, and raised above the level of the shimmering plain +enough for the visitation of cool airs, and sufficiently above the trees to +allure the stars down closer, down at least into brighter shining. So the roof +became a resort—became playground, sleeping-chamber, boudoir, rendezvous +for the family, place of music, dance, conversation, reverie, and prayer. +</p> + +<p> +The motive that prompts the decoration, at whatever cost, of interiors in +colder climes suggested to the Oriental the embellishment of his house-top. The +parapet ordered by Moses became a potter’s triumph; above that, later, +arose towers, plain and fantastic; still later, kings and princes crowned their +roofs with summer-houses of marble and gold. When the Babylonian hung gardens +in the air, extravagance could push the idea no further. +</p> + +<p> +The lad whom we are following walked slowly across the house-top to a tower +built over the northwest corner of the palace. Had he been a stranger, he might +have bestowed a glance upon the structure as he drew nigh it, and seen all the +dimness permitted—a darkened mass, low, latticed, pillared, and domed. He +entered, passing under a half-raised curtain. The interior was all darkness, +except that on four sides there were arched openings like doorways, through +which the sky, lighted with stars, was visible. In one of the openings, +reclining against a cushion from a divan, he saw the figure of a woman, +indistinct even in white floating drapery. At the sound of his steps upon the +floor, the fan in her hand stopped, glistening where the starlight struck the +jewels with which it was sprinkled, and she sat up, and called his name. +</p> + +<p> +“Judah, my son!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I, mother,” he answered, quickening his approach. +</p> + +<p> +Going to her, he knelt, and she put her arms around him, and with kisses +pressed him to her bosom. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +The mother resumed her easy position against the cushion, while the son took +place on the divan, his head in her lap. Both of them, looking out of the +opening, could see a stretch of lower house-tops in the vicinity, a bank of +blue-blackness over in the west which they knew to be mountains, and the sky, +its shadowy depths brilliant with stars. The city was still. Only the winds +stirred. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah tells me something has happened to you,” she said, caressing +his cheek. “When my Judah was a child, I allowed small things to trouble +him, but he is now a man. He must not forget”—her voice became very +soft—“that one day he is to be my hero.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke in the language almost lost in the land, but which a few—and +they were always as rich in blood as in possessions—cherished in its +purity, that they might be more certainly distinguished from Gentile +peoples—the language in which the loved Rebekah and Rachel sang to +Benjamin. +</p> + +<p> +The words appeared to set him thinking anew; after a while, however, he caught +the hand with which she fanned him, and said, “Today, O my mother, I have +been made to think of many things that never had place in my mind before. Tell +me, first, what am I to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I not told you? You are to be my hero.” +</p> + +<p> +He could not see her face, yet he knew she was in play. He became more serious. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very good, very kind, O my mother. No one will ever love me as +you do.” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed the hand over and over again. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I understand why you would have me put off the question,” +he continued. “Thus far my life has belonged to you. How gentle, how +sweet your control has been! I wish it could last forever. But that may not be. +It is the Lord’s will that I shall one day become owner of myself—a +day of separation, and therefore a dreadful day to you. Let us be brave and +serious. I will be your hero, but you must put me in the way. You know the +law—every son of Israel must have some occupation. I am not exempt, and +ask now, shall I tend the herds? or till the soil? or drive the saw? or be a +clerk or lawyer? What shall I be? Dear, good mother, help me to an +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gamaliel has been lecturing today,” she said, thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“If so, I did not hear him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have been walking with Simeon, who, they tell me, inherits the +genius of his family.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not seen him. I have been up on the Market-place, not to the +Temple. I visited the young Messala.” +</p> + +<p> +A certain change in his voice attracted the mother’s attention. A +presentiment quickened the beating of her heart; the fan became motionless +again. +</p> + +<p> +“The Messala!” she said. “What could he say to so trouble +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is very much changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean he has come back a Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Roman!” she continued, half to herself. “To all the world +the word means master. How long has he been away?” +</p> + +<p> +“Five years.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her head, and looked off into the night. +</p> + +<p> +“The airs of the Via Sacra are well enough in the streets of the Egyptian +and in Babylon; but in Jerusalem—our Jerusalem—the covenant +abides.” +</p> + +<p> +And, full of the thought, she settled back into her easy place. He was first to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +“What Messala said, my mother, was sharp enough in itself; but, taken +with the manner, some of the sayings were intolerable.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I understand you. Rome, her poets, orators, senators, courtiers, +are mad with affectation of what they call satire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose all great peoples are proud,” he went on, scarcely +noticing the interruption; “but the pride of that people is unlike all +others; in these latter days it is so grown the gods barely escape it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The gods escape!” said the mother, quickly. “More than one +Roman has accepted worship as his divine right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Messala always had his share of the disagreeable quality. When he +was a child, I have seen him mock strangers whom even Herod condescended to +receive with honors; yet he always spared Judea. For the first time, in +conversation with me to-day, he trifled with our customs and God. As you would +have had me do, I parted with him finally. And now, O my dear mother, I would +know with more certainty if there be just ground for the Roman’s +contempt. In what am I his inferior? Is ours a lower order of people? Why +should I, even in Cæsar’s presence; feel the shrinking of a slave? Tell +me especially why, if I have the soul, and so choose, I may not hunt the honors +of the world in all its fields? Why may not I take sword and indulge the +passion of war? As a poet, why may not I sing of all themes? I can be a worker +in metals, a keeper of flocks, a merchant, why not an artist like the Greek? +Tell me, O my mother—and this is the sum of my trouble—why may not +a son of Israel do all a Roman may?” +</p> + +<p> +The reader will refer these questions back to the conversation in the +Market-place; the mother, listening with all her faculties awake, from +something which would have been lost upon one less interested in him—from +the connections of the subject, the pointing of the questions, possibly his +accent and tone—was not less swift in making the same reference. She sat +up, and in a voice quick and sharp as his own, replied, “I see, I see! +From association Messala, in boyhood, was almost a Jew; had he remained here, +he might have become a proselyte, so much do we all borrow from the influences +that ripen our lives; but the years in Rome have been too much for him. I do +not wonder at the change; yet”—her voice fell—“he might +have dealt tenderly at least with you. It is a hard, cruel nature which in +youth can forget its first loves.” +</p> + +<p> +Her hand dropped lightly upon his forehead, and the fingers caught in his hair +and lingered there lovingly, while her eyes sought the highest stars in view. +Her pride responded to his, not merely in echo, but in the unison of perfect +sympathy. She would answer him; at the same time, not for the world would she +have had the answer unsatisfactory: an admission of inferiority might weaken +his spirit for life. She faltered with misgivings of her own powers. +</p> + +<p> +“What you propose, O my Judah, is not a subject for treatment by a woman. +Let me put its consideration off till to-morrow, and I will have the wise +Simeon—” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not send me to the Rector,” he said, abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will have him come to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I seek more than information; while he might give me that better +than you, O my mother, you can do better by giving me what he cannot—the +resolution which is the soul of a man’s soul.” +</p> + +<p> +She swept the heavens with a rapid glance, trying to compass all the meaning of +his questions. +</p> + +<p> +“While craving justice for ourselves, it is never wise to be unjust to +others. To deny valor in the enemy we have conquered is to underrate our +victory; and if the enemy be strong enough to hold us at bay, much more to +conquer us”—she hesitated—“self-respect bids us seek +some other explanation of our misfortunes than accusing him of qualities +inferior to our own.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus, speaking to herself rather than to him, she began: +</p> + +<p> +“Take heart, O my son. The Messala is nobly descended; his family has +been illustrious through many generations. In the days of Republican +Rome—how far back I cannot tell—they were famous, some as soldiers, +some as civilians. I can recall but one consul of the name; their rank was +senatorial, and their patronage always sought because they were always rich. +Yet if to-day your friend boasted of his ancestry, you might have shamed him by +recounting yours. If he referred to the ages through which the line is +traceable, or to deeds, rank, or wealth—such allusions, except when great +occasion demands them, are tokens of small minds—if he mentioned them in +proof of his superiority, then without dread, and standing on each particular, +you might have challenged him to a comparison of records.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking a moment’s thought, the mother proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“One of the ideas of fast hold now is that time has much to do with the +nobility of races and families. A Roman boasting his superiority on that +account over a son of Israel will always fail when put to the proof. The +founding of Rome was his beginning; the very best of them cannot trace their +descent beyond that period; few of them pretend to do so; and of such as do, I +say not one could make good his claim except by resort to tradition. Messala +certainly could not. Let us look now to ourselves. Could we better?” +</p> + +<p> +A little more light would have enabled him to see the pride that diffused +itself over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us imagine the Roman putting us to the challenge. I would answer +him, neither doubting nor boastful.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice faltered; a tender thought changed the form of the argument. +</p> + +<p> +“Your father, O my Judah, is at rest with his fathers; yet I remember, as +though it were this evening, the day he and I, with many rejoicing friends, +went up into the Temple to present you to the Lord. We sacrificed the doves, +and to the priest I gave your name, which he wrote in my +presence—‘Judah, son of Ithamar, of the House of Hur.’ The +name was then carried away, and written in a book of the division of records +devoted to the saintly family. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you when the custom of registration in this mode began. We +know it prevailed before the flight from Egypt. I have heard Hillel say Abraham +caused the record to be first opened with his own name, and the names of his +sons, moved by the promises of the Lord which separated him and them from all +other races, and made them the highest and noblest, the very chosen of the +earth. The covenant with Jacob was of like effect. ‘In thy seed shall all +the nations of the earth be blessed’—so said the angel to Abraham +in the place Jehovah-jireh. ‘And the land whereon thou liest, to thee +will I give it, and to thy seed’—so the Lord himself said to Jacob +asleep at Bethel on the way to Haran. Afterwards the wise men looked forward to +a just division of the land of promise; and, that it might be known in the day +of partition who were entitled to portions, the Book of Generations was begun. +But not for that alone. The promise of a blessing to all the earth through the +patriarch reached far into the future. One name was mentioned in connection +with the blessing—the benefactor might be the humblest of the chosen +family, for the Lord our God knows no distinctions of rank or riches. So, to +make the performance clear to men of the generation who were to witness it, and +that they might give the glory to whom it belonged, the record was required to +be kept with absolute certainty. Has it been so kept?” +</p> + +<p> +The fan played to and fro, until, becoming impatient, he repeated the question, +“Is the record absolutely true?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hillel said it was, and of all who have lived no one was so +well-informed upon the subject. Our people have at times been heedless of some +parts of the law, but never of this part. The good rector himself has followed +the Books of Generations through three periods—from the promises to the +opening of the Temple; thence to the Captivity; thence, again, to the present. +Once only were the records disturbed, and that was at the end of the second +period; but when the nation returned from the long exile, as a first duty to +God, Zerubbabel restored the Books, enabling us once more to carry the lines of +Jewish descent back unbroken fully two thousand years. And now—” +</p> + +<p> +She paused as if to allow the hearer to measure the time comprehended in the +statement. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” she continued, “what becomes of the Roman boast of +blood enriched by ages? By that test, the sons of Israel watching the herds on +old Rephaim yonder are nobler than the noblest of the Marcii.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, mother—by the Books, who am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“What I have said thus far, my son, had reference to your question. I +will answer you. If Messala were here, he might say, as others have said, that +the exact trace of your lineage stopped when the Assyrian took Jerusalem, and +razed the Temple, with all its precious stores; but you might plead the pious +action of Zerubbabel, and retort that all verity in Roman genealogy ended when +the barbarians from the West took Rome, and camped six months upon her +desolated site. Did the government keep family histories? If so, what became of +them in those dreadful days? No, no; there is verity in our Books of +Generations; and, following them back to the Captivity, back to the foundation +of the first Temple, back to the march from Egypt, we have absolute assurance +that you are lineally sprung from Hur, the associate of Joshua. In the matter +of descent sanctified by time, is not the honor perfect? Do you care to pursue +further? if so, take the Torah, and search the Book of Numbers, and of the +seventy-two generations after Adam, you can find the very progenitor of your +house.” +</p> + +<p> +There was silence for a time in the chamber on the roof. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, O my mother,” Judah next said, clasping both her +hands in his; “I thank you with all my heart. I was right in not having +the good rector called in; he could not have satisfied me more than you have. +Yet to make a family truly noble, is time alone sufficient?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you forget, you forget; our claim rests not merely upon time; the +Lord’s preference is our especial glory.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are speaking of the race, and I, mother, of the family—our +family. In the years since Father Abraham, what have they achieved? What have +they done? What great things to lift them above the level of their +fellows?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, thinking she might all this time have mistaken his object. The +information he sought might have been for more than satisfaction of wounded +vanity. Youth is but the painted shell within which, continually growing, lives +that wondrous thing the spirit of man, biding its moment of apparition, earlier +in some than in others. She trembled under a perception that this might be the +supreme moment come to him; that as children at birth reach out their untried +hands grasping for shadows, and crying the while, so his spirit might, in +temporary blindness, be struggling to take hold of its impalpable future. They +to whom a boy comes asking, Who am I, and what am I to be? have need of ever so +much care. Each word in answer may prove to the after-life what each +finger-touch of the artist is to the clay he is modelling. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a feeling, O my Judah,” she said, patting his cheek with +the hand he had been caressing—“I have the feeling that all I have +said has been in strife with an antagonist more real than imaginary. If Messala +is the enemy, do not leave me to fight him in the dark. Tell me all he +said.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +The young Israelite proceeded then, and rehearsed his conversation with +Messala, dwelling with particularity upon the latter’s speeches in +contempt of the Jews, their customs, and much pent round of life. +</p> + +<p> +Afraid to speak the while, the mother listened, discerning the matter plainly. +Judah had gone to the palace on the Market-place, allured by love of a playmate +whom he thought to find exactly as he had been at the parting years before; a +man met him, and, in place of laughter and references to the sports of the +past, the man had been full of the future, and talked of glory to be won, and +of riches and power. Unconscious of the effect, the visitor had come away hurt +in pride, yet touched with a natural ambition; but she, the jealous mother, saw +it, and, not knowing the turn the aspiration might take, became at once Jewish +in her fear. What if it lured him away from the patriarchal faith? In her view, +that consequence was more dreadful than any or all others. She could discover +but one way to avert it, and she set about the task, her native power +reinforced by love to such degree that her speech took a masculine strength and +at times a poet’s fervor. +</p> + +<p> +“There never has been a people,” she began, “who did not +think themselves at least equal to any other; never a great nation, my son, +that did not believe itself the very superior. When the Roman looks down upon +Israel and laughs, he merely repeats the folly of the Egyptian, the Assyrian, +and the Macedonian; and as the laugh is against God, the result will be the +same.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice became firmer. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no law by which to determine the superiority of nations; hence +the vanity of the claim, and the idleness of disputes about it. A people risen, +run their race, and die either of themselves or at the hands of another, who, +succeeding to their power, take possession of their place, and upon their +monuments write new names; such is history. If I were called upon to symbolize +God and man in the simplest form, I would draw a straight line and a circle, +and of the line I would say, ‘This is God, for he alone moves forever +straightforward,’ and of the circle, ‘This is man—such is his +progress.’ I do not mean that there is no difference between the careers +of nations; no two are alike. The difference, however, is not, as some say, in +the extent of the circle they describe or the space of earth they cover, but in +the sphere of their movement, the highest being nearest God. +</p> + +<p> +“To stop here, my son, would be to leave the subject where we began. Let +us go on. There are signs by which to measure the height of the circle each +nation runs while in its course. By them let us compare the Hebrew and the +Roman. +</p> + +<p> +“The simplest of all the signs is the daily life of the people. Of this I +will only say, Israel has at times forgotten God, while the Roman never knew +him; consequently comparison is not possible. +</p> + +<p> +“Your friend—or your former friend—charged, if I understood +you rightly, that we have had no poets, artists, or warriors; by which he +meant, I suppose, to deny that we have had great men, the next most certain of +the signs. A just consideration of this charge requires a definition at the +commencement. A great man, O my boy, is one whose life proves him to have been +recognized, if not called, by God. A Persian was used to punish our recreant +fathers, and he carried them into captivity; another Persian was selected to +restore their children to the Holy Land; greater than either of them, however, +was the Macedonian through whom the desolation of Judea and the Temple was +avenged. The special distinction of the men was that they were chosen by the +Lord, each for a divine purpose; and that they were Gentiles does not lessen +their glory. Do not lose sight of this definition while I proceed. +</p> + +<p> +“There is an idea that war is the most noble occupation of men, and that +the most exalted greatness is the growth of battle-fields. Because the world +has adopted the idea, be not you deceived. That we must worship something is a +law which will continue as long as there is anything we cannot understand. The +prayer of the barbarian is a wail of fear addressed to Strength, the only +divine quality he can clearly conceive; hence his faith in heroes. What is Jove +but a Roman hero? The Greeks have their great glory because they were the first +to set Mind above Strength. In Athens the orator and philosopher were more +revered than the warrior. The charioteer and the swiftest runner are still +idols of the arena; yet the immortelles are reserved for the sweetest singer. +The birthplace of one poet was contested by seven cities. But was the Hellene +the first to deny the old barbaric faith? No. My son, that glory is ours; +against brutalism our fathers erected God; in our worship, the wail of fear +gave place to the Hosanna and the Psalm. So the Hebrew and the Greek would have +carried all humanity forward and upward. But, alas! the government of the world +presumes war as an eternal condition; wherefore, over Mind and above God, the +Roman has enthroned his Cæsar, the absorbent of all attainable power, the +prohibition of any other greatness. +</p> + +<p> +“The sway of the Greek was a flowering time for genius. In return for the +liberty it then enjoyed, what a company of thinkers the Mind led forth? There +was a glory for every excellence, and a perfection so absolute that in +everything but war even the Roman has stooped to imitation. A Greek is now the +model of the orators in the Forum; listen, and in every Roman song you will +hear the rhythm of the Greek; if a Roman opens his mouth speaking wisely of +moralities, or abstractions, or of the mysteries of nature, he is either a +plagiarist or the disciple of some school which had a Greek for its founder. In +nothing but war, I say again, has Rome a claim to originality. Her games and +spectacles are Greek inventions, dashed with blood to gratify the ferocity of +her rabble; her religion, if such it may be called, is made up of contributions +from the faiths of all other peoples; her most venerated gods are from +Olympus—even her Mars, and, for that matter, the Jove she much magnifies. +So it happens, O my son, that of the whole world our Israel alone can dispute +the superiority of the Greek, and with him contest the palm of original genius. +</p> + +<p> +“To the excellences of other peoples the egotism of a Roman is a +blindfold, impenetrable as his breastplate. Oh, the ruthless robbers! Under +their trampling the earth trembles like a floor beaten with flails. Along with +the rest we are fallen—alas that I should say it to you, my son! They +have our highest places, and the holiest, and the end no man can tell; but this +I know—they may reduce Judea as an almond broken with hammers, and devour +Jerusalem, which is the oil and sweetness thereof; yet the glory of the men of +Israel will remain a light in the heavens overhead out of reach: for their +history is the history of God, who wrote with their hands, spake with their +tongues, and was himself in all the good they did, even the least; who dwelt +with them, a Lawgiver on Sinai, a Guide in the wilderness, in war a Captain, in +government a King; who once and again pushed back the curtains of the pavilion +which is his resting-place, intolerably bright, and, as a man speaking to men, +showed them the right, and the way to happiness, and how they should live, and +made them promises binding the strength of his Almightiness with covenants +sworn to everlastingly. O my son, could it be that they with whom Jehovah thus +dwelt, an awful familiar, derived nothing from him?—that in their lives +and deeds the common human qualities should not in some degree have been mixed +and colored with the divine? that their genius should not have in it, even +after the lapse of ages, some little of heaven?” +</p> + +<p> +For a time the rustling of the fan was all the sound heard in the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“In the sense which limits art to sculpture and painting, it is +true,” she next said, “Israel has had no artists.” +</p> + +<p> +The admission was made regretfully, for it must be remembered she was a +Sadducee, whose faith, unlike that of the Pharisees, permitted a love of the +beautiful in every form, and without reference to its origin. +</p> + +<p> +“Still he who would do justice,” she proceeded, “will not +forget that the cunning of our hands was bound by the prohibition, ‘Thou +shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything;’ +which the Sopherim wickedly extended beyond its purpose and time. Nor should it +be forgotten that long before Dædalus appeared in Attica and with his wooden +statues so transformed sculpture as to make possible the schools of Corinth and +Ægina, and their ultimate triumphs the Poecile and Capitolium—long +before the age of Dædalus, I say, two Israelites, Bezaleel and Aholiab, the +master-builders of the first tabernacle, said to have been skilled ‘in +all manner of workmanship,’ wrought the cherubim of the mercy-seat above +the ark. Of gold beaten, not chiseled, were they; and they were statues in form +both human and divine. ‘And they shall stretch forth their wings on high, +.... and their faces shall look one to another.’ Who will say they were +not beautiful? or that they were not the first statues?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I see now why the Greek outstripped us,” said Judah, intensely +interested. “And the ark; accursed be the Babylonians who destroyed +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Judah, be of faith. It was not destroyed, only lost, hidden away +too safely in some cavern of the mountains. One day—Hillel and Shammai +both say so—one day, in the Lord’s good time, it will be found and +brought forth, and Israel dance before it, singing as of old. And they who look +upon the faces of the cherubim then, though they have seen the face of the +ivory Minerva, will be ready to kiss the hand of the Jew from love of his +genius, asleep through all the thousands of years.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother, in her eagerness, had risen into something like the rapidity and +vehemence of a speech-maker; but now, to recover herself, or to pick up the +thread of her thought, she rested awhile. +</p> + +<p> +“You are so good, my mother,” he said, in a grateful way. +“And I will never be done saying so. Shammai could not have talked +better, nor Hillel. I am a true son of Israel again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flatterer!” she said. “You do not know that I am but +repeating what I heard Hillel say in an argument he had one day in my presence +with a sophist from Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the hearty words are yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Directly all her earnestness returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was I? Oh yes, I was claiming for our Hebrew fathers the first +statues. The trick of the sculptor, Judah, is not all there is of art, any more +than art is all there is of greatness. I always think of great men marching +down the centuries in groups and goodly companies, separable according to +nationalities; here the Indian, there the Egyptian, yonder the Assyrian; above +them the music of trumpets and the beauty of banners; and on their right hand +and left, as reverent spectators, the generations from the beginning, +numberless. As they go, I think of the Greek, saying, ‘Lo! The Hellene +leads the way.’ Then the Roman replies, ‘Silence! what was your +place is ours now; we have left you behind as dust trodden on.’ And all +the time, from the far front back over the line of march, as well as forward +into the farthest future, streams a light of which the wranglers know nothing, +except that it is forever leading them on—the Light of Revelation! Who +are they that carry it? Ah, the old Judean blood! How it leaps at the thought! +By the light we know them. Thrice blessed, O our fathers, servants of God, +keepers of the covenants! Ye are the leaders of men, the living and the dead. +The front is thine; and though every Roman were a Cæsar, ye shall not lose +it!” +</p> + +<p> +Judah was deeply stirred. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not stop, I pray you,” he cried. “You give me to hear the +sound of timbrels. I wait for Miriam and the women who went after her dancing +and singing.” +</p> + +<p> +She caught his feeling, and, with ready wit, wove it into her speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, my son. If you can hear the timbrel of the prophetess, you +can do what I was about to ask; you can use your fancy, and stand with me, as +if by the wayside, while the chosen of Israel pass us at the head of the +procession. Now they come—the patriarchs first; next the fathers of the +tribes. I almost hear the bells of their camels and the lowing of their herds. +Who is he that walks alone between the companies? An old man, yet his eye is +not dim, nor his natural force abated. He knew the Lord face to face! Warrior, +poet, orator, lawgiver, prophet, his greatness is as the sun at morning, its +flood of splendor quenching all other lights, even that of the first and +noblest of the Cæsars. After him the judges. And then the kings—the son +of Jesse, a hero in war, and a singer of songs eternal as that of the sea; and +his son, who, passing all other kings in riches and wisdom, and while making +the Desert habitable, and in its waste places planting cities, forgot not +Jerusalem which the Lord had chosen for his seat on earth. Bend lower, my son! +These that come next are the first of their kind, and the last. Their faces are +raised, as if they heard a voice in the sky and were listening. Their lives +were full of sorrows. Their garments smell of tombs and caverns. Hearken to a +woman among them—‘Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed +gloriously!’ Nay, put your forehead in the dust before them! They were +tongues of God, his servants, who looked through heaven, and, seeing all the +future, wrote what they saw, and left the writing to be proven by time. Kings +turned pale as they approached them, and nations trembled at the sound of their +voices. The elements waited upon them. In their hands they carried every bounty +and every plague. See the Tishbite and his servant Elisha! See the sad son of +Hilkiah, and him, the seer of visions, by the river of Chebar! And of the three +children of Judah who refused the image of the Babylonian, lo! that one who, in +the feast to the thousand lords, so confounded the astrologers. And +yonder—O my son, kiss the dust again!—yonder the gentle son of +Amoz, from whom the world has its promise of the Messiah to come!” +</p> + +<p> +In this passage the fan had been kept in rapid play; it stopped now, and her +voice sank low. +</p> + +<p> +“You are tired,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he replied, “I was listening to a new song of +Israel.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother was still intent upon her purpose, and passed the pleasant speech. +</p> + +<p> +“In such light as I could, my Judah, I have set our great men before +you—patriarchs, legislators, warriors, singers, prophets. Turn we to the +best of Rome. Against Moses place Cæsar, and Tarquin against David; Sylla +against either of the Maccabees; the best of the consuls against the judges; +Augustus against Solomon, and you are done: comparison ends there. But think +then of the prophets—greatest of the great.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me. I was thinking of the soothsayer who warned Caius Julius +against the Ides of March, and fancied him looking for the omens of evil which +his master despised in the entrails of a chicken. From that picture turn to +Elijah sitting on the hill-top on the way to Samaria, amid the smoking bodies +of the captains and their fifties, warning the son of Ahab of the wrath of our +God. Finally, O my Judah—if such speech be reverent—how shall we +judge Jehovah and Jupiter unless it be by what their servants have done in +their names? And as for what you shall do—” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke the latter words slowly, and with a tremulous utterance. +</p> + +<p> +“As for what you shall do, my boy—serve the Lord, the Lord God of +Israel, not Rome. For a child of Abraham there is no glory except in the +Lord’s ways, and in them there is much glory.” +</p> + +<p> +“I may be a soldier then?” Judah asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? Did not Moses call God a man of war?” +</p> + +<p> +There was then a long silence in the summer chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“You have my permission,” she said, finally; “if only you +serve the Lord instead of Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +He was content with the condition, and by-and-by fell asleep. She arose then, +and put the cushion under his head, and, throwing a shawl over him and kissing +him tenderly, went away. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +The good man, like the bad, must die; but, remembering the lesson of our faith, +we say of him and the event, “No matter, he will open his eyes in +heaven.” Nearest this in life is the waking from healthful sleep to a +quick consciousness of happy sights and sounds. +</p> + +<p> +When Judah awoke, the sun was up over the mountains; the pigeons were abroad in +flocks, filling the air with the gleams of their white wings; and off southeast +he beheld the Temple, an apparition of gold in the blue of the sky. These, +however, were familiar objects, and they received but a glance; upon the edge +of the divan, close by him, a girl scarcely fifteen sat singing to the +accompaniment of a nebel, which she rested upon her knee, and touched +gracefully. To her he turned listening; and this was what she sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE SONG. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Wake not, but hear me, love!<br> + Adrift, adrift on slumber’s sea,<br> + Thy spirit call to list to me.<br> +Wake not, but hear me, love!<br> + A gift from Sleep, the restful king,<br> + All happy, happy dreams I bring. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Wake not, but hear me, love!<br> + Of all the world of dreams ’tis thine<br> + This once to choose the most divine.<br> +So choose, and sleep, my love!<br> + But ne’er again in choice be free,<br> + Unless, unless—thou dream’st of me.” +</p> + +<p> +She put the instrument down, and, resting her hands in her lap, waited for him +to speak. And as it has become necessary to tell somewhat of her, we will avail +ourselves of the chance, and add such particulars of the family into whose +privacy we are brought as the reader may wish to know. +</p> + +<p> +The favors of Herod had left surviving him many persons of vast estate. Where +this fortune was joined to undoubted lineal descent from some famous son of one +of the tribes, especially Judah, the happy individual was accounted a Prince of +Jerusalem—a distinction which sufficed to bring him the homage of his +less favored countrymen, and the respect, if nothing more, of the Gentiles with +whom business and social circumstance brought him into dealing. Of this class +none had won in private or public life a higher regard than the father of the +lad whom we have been following. With a remembrance of his nationality which +never failed him, he had yet been true to the king, and served him faithfully +at home and abroad. Some offices had taken him to Rome, where his conduct +attracted the notice of Augustus, who strove without reserve to engage his +friendship. In his house, accordingly, were many presents, such as had +gratified the vanity of kings—purple togas, ivory chairs, golden +pateroe—chiefly valuable on account of the imperial hand which had +honorably conferred them. Such a man could not fail to be rich; yet his wealth +was not altogether the largess of royal patrons. He had welcomed the law that +bound him to some pursuit; and, instead of one, he entered into many. Of the +herdsmen watching flocks on the plains and hill-sides, far as old Lebanon, +numbers reported to him as their employer; in the cities by the sea, and in +those inland, he founded houses of traffic; his ships brought him silver from +Spain, whose mines were then the richest known; while his caravans came twice a +year from the East, laden with silks and spices. In faith he was a Hebrew, +observant of the law and every essential rite; his place in the synagogue and +Temple knew him well; he was thoroughly learned in the Scriptures; he delighted +in the society of the college-masters, and carried his reverence for Hillel +almost to the point of worship. Yet he was in no sense a Separatist; his +hospitality took in strangers from every land; the carping Pharisees even +accused him of having more than once entertained Samaritans at his table. Had +he been a Gentile, and lived, the world might have heard of him as the rival of +Herodes Atticus: as it was, he perished at sea some ten years before this +second period of our story, in the prime of life, and lamented everywhere in +Judea. We are already acquainted with two members of his family—his widow +and son; the only other was a daughter—she whom we have seen singing to +her brother. +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah was her name, and as the two looked at each other, their resemblance was +plain. Her features had the regularity of his, and were of the same Jewish +type; they had also the charm of childish innocency of expression. Home-life +and its trustful love permitted the negligent attire in which she appeared. A +chemise buttoned upon the right shoulder, and passing loosely over the breast +and back and under the left arm, but half concealed her person above the waist, +while it left the arms entirely nude. A girdle caught the folds of the garment, +marking the commencement of the skirt. The coiffure was very simple and +becoming—a silken cap, Tyrian-dyed; and over that a striped scarf of the +same material, beautifully embroidered, and wound about in thin folds so as to +show the shape of the head without enlarging it; the whole finished by a tassel +dropping from the crown point of the cap. She had rings, ear and finger; +anklets and bracelets, all of gold; and around her neck there was a collar of +gold, curiously garnished with a network of delicate chains, to which were +pendants of pearl. The edges of her eyelids were painted, and the tips of her +fingers stained. Her hair fell in two long plaits down her back. A curled lock +rested upon each cheek in front of the ear. Altogether it would have been +impossible to deny her grace, refinement, and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“Very pretty, my Tirzah, very pretty!” he said, with animation. +</p> + +<p> +“The song?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—and the singer, too. It has the conceit of a Greek. Where did +you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +“You remember the Greek who sang in the theatre last month? They said he +used to be a singer at the court for Herod and his sister Salome. He came out +just after an exhibition of wrestlers, when the house was full of noise. At his +first note everything became so quiet that I heard every word. I got the song +from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he sang in Greek.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I in Hebrew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes. I am proud of my little sister. Have you another as +good?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very many. But let them go now. Amrah sent me to tell you she will bring +you your breakfast, and that you need not come down. She should be here by this +time. She thinks you sick—that a dreadful accident happened you +yesterday. What was it? Tell me, and I will help Amrah doctor you. She knows +the cures of the Egyptians, who were always a stupid set; but I have a great +many recipes of the Arabs who—” +</p> + +<p> +“Are even more stupid than the Egyptians,” he said, shaking his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so? Very well, then,” she replied, almost without +pause, and putting her hands to her left ear. “We will have nothing to do +with any of them. I have here what is much surer and better—the amulet +which was given to some of our people—I cannot tell when, it was so far +back—by a Persian magician. See, the inscription is almost worn +out.” +</p> + +<p> +She offered him the earring, which he took, looked at, and handed back, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“If I were dying, Tirzah, I could not use the charm. It is a relic of +idolatry, forbidden every believing son and daughter of Abraham. Take it, but +do not wear it any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forbidden! Not so,” she said. “Our father’s mother +wore it I do not know how many Sabbaths in her life. It has cured I do not know +how many people—more than three anyhow. It is approved—look, here +is the mark of the rabbis.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no faith in amulets.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes to his in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“What would Amrah say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah’s father and mother tended sakiyeh for a garden on the +Nile.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Gamaliel!” +</p> + +<p> +“He says they are godless inventions of unbelievers and +Shechemites.” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah looked at the ring doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wear it, my little sister. It becomes you—it helps make you +beautiful, though I think you that without help.” +</p> + +<p> +Satisfied, she returned the amulet to her ear just as Amrah entered the summer +chamber, bearing a platter, with wash-bowl, water, and napkins. +</p> + +<p> +Not being a Pharisee, the ablution was short and simple with Judah. The servant +then went out, leaving Tirzah to dress his hair. When a lock was disposed to +her satisfaction, she would unloose the small metallic mirror which, as was the +fashion among her fair countrywomen, she wore at her girdle, and gave it to +him, that he might see the triumph, and how handsome it made him. Meanwhile +they kept up their conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think, Tirzah?—I am going away.” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her hands with amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Going away! When? Where? For what?” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Three questions, all in a breath! What a body you are!” Next +instant he became serious. “You know the law requires me to follow some +occupation. Our good father set me an example. Even you would despise me if I +spent in idleness the results of his industry and knowledge. I am going to +Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I will go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must stay with mother. If both of us leave her she will die.” +</p> + +<p> +The brightness faded from her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, yes! But—must you go? Here in Jerusalem you can learn all +that is needed to be a merchant—if that is what you are thinking +of.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is not what I am thinking of. The law does not require the son +to be what the father was.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else can you be?” +</p> + +<p> +“A soldier,” he replied, with a certain pride of voice. +</p> + +<p> +Tears came into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be killed.” +</p> + +<p> +“If God’s will, be it so. But, Tirzah, the soldiers are not all +killed.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw her arms around his neck, as if to hold him back. +</p> + +<p> +“We are so happy! Stay at home, my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Home cannot always be what it is. You yourself will be going away before +long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled at her earnestness. +</p> + +<p> +“A prince of Judah, or some other of one of the tribes, will come soon +and claim my Tirzah, and ride away with her, to be the light of another house. +What will then become of me?” +</p> + +<p> +She answered with sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“War is a trade,” he continued, more soberly. “To learn it +thoroughly, one must go to school, and there is no school like a Roman +camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“You would not fight for Rome?” she asked, holding her breath. +</p> + +<p> +“And you—even you hate her. The whole world hates her. In that, O +Tirzah, find the reason of the answer I give you— Yes, I will fight for +her, if, in return, she will teach me how one day to fight against her.” +</p> + +<p> +“When will you go?” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah’s steps were then heard returning. +</p> + +<p> +“Hist!” he said. “Do not let her know of what I am +thinking.” +</p> + +<p> +The faithful slave came in with breakfast, and placed the waiter holding it +upon a stool before them; then, with white napkins upon her arm, she remained +to serve them. They dipped their fingers in a bowl of water, and were rinsing +them, when a noise arrested their attention. They listened, and distinguished +martial music in the street on the north side of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Soldiers from the Praetorium! I must see them,” he cried, +springing from the divan, and running out. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment more he was leaning over the parapet of tiles which guarded the +roof at the extreme northeast corner, so absorbed that he did not notice Tirzah +by his side, resting one hand upon his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Their position—the roof being the highest one in the +locality—commanded the house-tops eastward as far as the huge irregular +Tower of Antonia, which has been already mentioned as a citadel for the +garrison and military headquarters for the governor. The street, not more than +ten feet wide, was spanned here and there by bridges, open and covered, which, +like the roofs along the way, were beginning to be occupied by men, women, and +children, called out by the music. The word is used, though it is hardly +fitting; what the people heard when they came forth was rather an uproar of +trumpets and the shriller <i>litui</i> so delightful to the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +The array after a while came into view of the two upon the house of the Hurs. +First, a vanguard of the light-armed—mostly slingers and +bowmen—marching with wide intervals between their ranks and files; next a +body of heavy-armed infantry, bearing large shields, and hastoe longoe, or +spears identical with those used in the duels before Ilium; then the musicians; +and then an officer riding alone, but followed closely by a guard of cavalry; +after them again, a column of infantry also heavy-armed, which, moving in close +order, crowded the streets from wall to wall, and appeared to be without end. +</p> + +<p> +The brawny limbs of the men; the cadenced motion from right to left of the +shields; the sparkle of scales, buckles, and breastplates and helms, all +perfectly burnished; the plumes nodding above the tall crests; the sway of +ensigns and iron-shod spears; the bold, confident step, exactly timed and +measured; the demeanor, so grave, yet so watchful; the machine-like unity of +the whole moving mass—made an impression upon Judah, but as something +felt rather than seen. Two objects fixed his attention—the eagle of the +legion first—a gilded effigy perched on a tall shaft, with wings +outspread until they met above its head. He knew that, when brought from its +chamber in the Tower, it had been received with divine honors. +</p> + +<p> +The officer riding alone in the midst of the column was the other attraction. +His head was bare; otherwise he was in full armor. At his left hip he wore a +short sword; in his hand, however, he carried a truncheon, which looked like a +roll of white paper. He sat upon a purple cloth instead of a saddle, and that, +and a bridle with a forestall of gold and reins of yellow silk broadly fringed +at the lower edge, completed the housings of the horse. +</p> + +<p> +While the man was yet in the distance, Judah observed that his presence was +sufficient to throw the people looking at him into angry excitement. They would +lean over the parapets or stand boldly out, and shake their fists at him; they +followed him with loud cries, and spit at him as he passed under the bridges; +the women even flung their sandals, sometimes with such good effect as to hit +him. When he was nearer, the yells became distinguishable—“Robber, +tyrant, dog of a Roman! Away with Ishmael! Give us back our Hannas!” +</p> + +<p> +When quite near, Judah could see that, as was but natural, the man did not +share the indifference so superbly shown by the soldiers; his face was dark and +sullen, and the glances he occasionally cast at his persecutors were full of +menace; the very timid shrank from them. +</p> + +<p> +Now the lad had heard of the custom, borrowed from a habit of the first Cæsar, +by which chief commanders, to indicate their rank, appeared in public with only +a laurel vine upon their heads. By that sign he knew this +officer—VALERIUS GRATUS, THE NEW PROCURATOR OF JUDEA! +</p> + +<p> +To say truth now, the Roman under the unprovoked storm had the young +Jew’s sympathy; so that when he reached the corner of the house, the +latter leaned yet farther over the parapet to see him go by, and in the act +rested a hand upon a tile which had been a long time cracked and allowed to go +unnoticed. The pressure was strong enough to displace the outer piece, which +started to fall. A thrill of horror shot through the youth. He reached out to +catch the missile. In appearance the motion was exactly that of one pitching +something from him. The effort failed—nay, it served to push the +descending fragment farther out over the wall. He shouted with all his might. +The soldiers of the guard looked up; so did the great man, and that moment the +missile struck him, and he fell from his seat as dead. +</p> + +<p> +The cohort halted; the guards leaped from their horses, and hastened to cover +the chief with their shields. On the other hand, the people who witnessed the +affair, never doubting that the blow had been purposely dealt, cheered the lad +as he yet stooped in full view over the parapet, transfixed by what he beheld, +and by anticipation of the consequences flashed all too plainly upon him. +</p> + +<p> +A mischievous spirit flew with incredible speed from roof to roof along the +line of march, seizing the people, and urging them all alike. They laid hands +upon the parapets and tore up the tiling and the sunburnt mud of which the +house-tops were for the most part made, and with blind fury began to fling them +upon the legionaries halted below. A battle then ensued. Discipline, of course, +prevailed. The struggle, the slaughter, the skill of one side, the desperation +of the other, are alike unnecessary to our story. Let us look rather to the +wretched author of it all. +</p> + +<p> +He arose from the parapet, his face very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“O Tirzah, Tirzah! What will become of us?” +</p> + +<p> +She had not seen the occurrence below, but was listening to the shouting and +watching the mad activity of the people in view on the houses. Something +terrible was going on, she knew; but what it was, or the cause, or that she or +any of those dear to her were in danger, she did not know. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened? What does it all mean?” she asked, in sudden +alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“I have killed the Roman governor. The tile fell upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +An unseen hand appeared to sprinkle her face with the dust of ashes—it +grew white so instantly. She put her arm around him, and looked wistfully, but +without a word, into his eyes. His fears had passed to her, and the sight of +them gave him strength. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not do it purposely, Tirzah—it was an accident,” he +said, more calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“What will they do?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He looked off over the tumult momentarily deepening in the street and on the +roofs, and thought of the sullen countenance of Gratus. If he were not dead, +where would his vengeance stop? And if he were dead, to what height of fury +would not the violence of the people lash the legionaries? To evade an answer, +he peered over the parapet again, just as the guard were assisting the Roman to +remount his horse. +</p> + +<p> +“He lives, he lives, Tirzah! Blessed be the Lord God of our +fathers!” +</p> + +<p> +With that outcry, and a brightened countenance, he drew back and replied to her +question. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not afraid, Tirzah. I will explain how it happened, and they will +remember our father and his services, and not hurt us.” +</p> + +<p> +He was leading her to the summer-house, when the roof jarred under their feet, +and a crash of strong timbers being burst away, followed by a cry of surprise +and agony, arose apparently from the court-yard below. He stopped and listened. +The cry was repeated; then came a rush of many feet, and voices lifted in rage +blent with voices in prayer; and then the screams of women in mortal terror. +The soldiers had beaten in the north gate, and were in possession of the house. +The terrible sense of being hunted smote him. His first impulse was to fly; but +where? Nothing but wings would serve him. Tirzah, her eyes wild with fear, +caught his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“O Judah, what does it mean?” +</p> + +<p> +The servants were being butchered—and his mother! Was not one of the +voices he heard hers? With all the will left him, he said, “Stay here, +and wait for me, Tirzah. I will go down and see what is the matter, and come +back to you.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice was not steady as he wished. She clung closer to him. +</p> + +<p> +Clearer, shriller, no longer a fancy, his mother’s cry arose. He +hesitated no longer. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then, let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +The terrace or gallery at the foot of the steps was crowded with soldiers. +Other soldiers with drawn swords ran in and out of the chambers. At one place a +number of women on their knees clung to each other or prayed for mercy. Apart +from them, one with torn garments, and long hair streaming over her face, +struggled to tear loose from a man all whose strength was tasked to keep his +hold. Her cries were shrillest of all; cutting through the clamor, they had +risen distinguishably to the roof. To her Judah sprang—his steps were +long and swift, almost a winged flight—“Mother, mother!” he +shouted. She stretched her hands towards him; but when almost touching them he +was seized and forced aside. Then he heard some one say, speaking loudly, +</p> + +<p> +“That is he!” +</p> + +<p> +Judah looked, and saw—Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“What, the assassin—that?” said a tall man, in legionary +armor of beautiful finish. “Why, he is but a boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gods!” replied Messala, not forgetting his drawl. “A new +philosophy! What would Seneca say to the proposition that a man must be old +before he can hate enough to kill? You have him; and that is his mother; yonder +his sister. You have the whole family.” +</p> + +<p> +For love of them, Judah forgot his quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +“Help them, O my Messala! Remember our childhood and help them. +I—Judah—pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +Messala affected not to hear. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot be of further use to you,” he said to the officer. +“There is richer entertainment in the street. Down Eros, up Mars!” +</p> + +<p> +With the last words he disappeared. Judah understood him, and, in the +bitterness of his soul, prayed to Heaven. +</p> + +<p> +“In the hour of thy vengeance, O Lord,” he said, “be mine the +hand to put it upon him!” +</p> + +<p> +By great exertion, he drew nearer the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“O sir, the woman you hear is my mother. Spare her, spare my sister +yonder. God is just, he will give you mercy for mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +The man appeared to be moved. +</p> + +<p> +“To the Tower with the women!” he shouted, “but do them no +harm. I will demand them of you.” Then to those holding Judah, he said, +“Get cords, and bind his hands, and take him to the street. His +punishment is reserved.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother was carried away. The little Tirzah, in her home attire, stupefied +with fear, went passively with her keepers. Judah gave each of them a last +look, and covered his face with his hands, as if to possess himself of the +scene fadelessly. He may have shed tears, though no one saw them. +</p> + +<p> +There took place in him then what may be justly called the wonder of life. The +thoughtful reader of these pages has ere this discerned enough to know that the +young Jew in disposition was gentle even to womanliness—a result that +seldom fails the habit of loving and being loved. The circumstances through +which he had come had made no call upon the harsher elements of his nature, if +such he had. At times he had felt the stir and impulses of ambition, but they +had been like the formless dreams of a child walking by the sea and gazing at +the coming and going of stately ships. But now, if we can imagine an idol, +sensible of the worship it was accustomed to, dashed suddenly from its altar, +and lying amidst the wreck of its little world of love, an idea may be had of +what had befallen the young Ben-Hur, and of its effect upon his being. Yet +there was no sign, nothing to indicate that he had undergone a change, except +that when he raised his head, and held his arms out to be bound, the bend of +the Cupid’s bow had vanished from his lips. In that instant he had put +off childhood and become a man. +</p> + +<p> +A trumpet sounded in the court-yard. With the cessation of the call, the +gallery was cleared of the soldiery; many of whom, as they dared not appear in +the ranks with visible plunder in their hands, flung what they had upon the +floor, until it was strewn with articles of richest virtu. When Judah +descended, the formation was complete, and the officer waiting to see his last +order executed. +</p> + +<p> +The mother, daughter, and entire household were led out of the north gate, the +ruins of which choked the passageway. The cries of the domestics, some of whom +had been born in the house, were most pitiable. When, finally, the horses and +all the dumb tenantry of the place were driven past him, Judah began to +comprehend the scope of the procurator’s vengeance. The very structure +was devoted. Far as the order was possible of execution, nothing living was to +be left within its walls. If in Judea there were others desperate enough to +think of assassinating a Roman governor, the story of what befell the princely +family of Hur would be a warning to them, while the ruin of the habitation +would keep the story alive. +</p> + +<p> +The officer waited outside while a detail of men temporarily restored the gate. +</p> + +<p> +In the street the fighting had almost ceased. Upon the houses here and there +clouds of dust told where the struggle was yet prolonged. The cohort was, for +the most part, standing at rest, its splendor, like its ranks, in nowise +diminished. Borne past the point of care for himself, Judah had heart for +nothing in view but the prisoners, among whom he looked in vain for his mother +and Tirzah. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, from the earth where she had been lying, a woman arose and started +swiftly back to the gate. Some of the guards reached out to seize her, and a +great shout followed their failure. She ran to Judah, and, dropping down, +clasped his knees, the coarse black hair powdered with dust veiling her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“O Amrah, good Amrah,” he said to her, “God help you; I +cannot.” +</p> + +<p> +She could not speak. +</p> + +<p> +He bent down, and whispered, “Live, Amrah, for Tirzah and my mother. They +will come back, and—” +</p> + +<p> +A soldier drew her away; whereupon she sprang up and rushed through the gateway +and passage into the vacant court-yard. +</p> + +<p> +“Let her go,” the officer shouted. “We will seal the house, +and she will starve.” +</p> + +<p> +The men resumed their work, and, when it was finished there, passed round to +the west side. That gate was also secured, after which the palace of the Hurs +was lost to use. +</p> + +<p> +The cohort at length marched back to the Tower, where the procurator stayed to +recover from his hurts and dispose of his prisoners. On the tenth day +following, he visited the Market-place. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +Next day a detachment of legionaries went to the desolated palace, and, closing +the gates permanently, plastered the corners with wax, and at the sides nailed +a notice in Latin: +</p> + +<p> +“THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF THE EMPEROR.” +</p> + +<p> +In the haughty Roman idea, the sententious announcement was thought sufficient +for the purpose—and it was. +</p> + +<p> +The day after that again, about noon, a decurion with his command of ten +horsemen approached Nazareth from the south—that is, from the direction +of Jerusalem. The place was then a straggling village, perched on a hill-side, +and so insignificant that its one street was little more than a path well +beaten by the coming and going of flocks and herds. The great plain of +Esdraelon crept close to it on the south, and from the height on the west a +view could be had of the shores of the Mediterranean, the region beyond the +Jordan, and Hermon. The valley below, and the country on every side, were given +to gardens, vineyards, orchards, and pasturage. Groves of palm-trees +Orientalized the landscape. The houses, in irregular assemblage, were of the +humbler class—square, one-story, flat-roofed, and covered with +bright-green vines. The drought that had burned the hills of Judea to a crisp, +brown and lifeless, stopped at the boundary-line of Galilee. +</p> + +<p> +A trumpet, sounded when the cavalcade drew near the village, had a magical +effect upon the inhabitants. The gates and front doors cast forth groups eager +to be the first to catch the meaning of a visitation so unusual. +</p> + +<p> +Nazareth, it must be remembered, was not only aside from any great highway, but +within the sway of Judas of Gamala; wherefore it should not be hard to imagine +the feelings with which the legionaries were received. But when they were up +and traversing the street, the duty that occupied them became apparent, and +then fear and hatred were lost in curiosity, under the impulse of which the +people, knowing there must be a halt at the well in the northeastern part of +the town, quit their gates and doors, and closed in after the procession. +</p> + +<p> +A prisoner whom the horsemen were guarding was the object of curiosity. He was +afoot, bareheaded, half naked, his hands bound behind him. A thong fixed to his +wrists was looped over the neck of a horse. The dust went with the party when +in movement, wrapping him in yellow fog, sometimes in a dense cloud. He drooped +forward, footsore and faint. The villagers could see he was young. +</p> + +<p> +At the well the decurion halted, and, with most of the men, dismounted. The +prisoner sank down in the dust of the road, stupefied, and asking nothing: +apparently he was in the last stage of exhaustion. Seeing, when they came near, +that he was but a boy, the villagers would have helped him had they dared. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of their perplexity, and while the pitchers were passing among the +soldiers, a man was descried coming down the road from Sepphoris. At sight of +him a woman cried out, “Look! Yonder comes the carpenter. Now we will +hear something.” +</p> + +<p> +The person spoken of was quite venerable in appearance. Thin white locks fell +below the edge of his full turban, and a mass of still whiter beard flowed down +the front of his coarse gray gown. He came slowly, for, in addition to his age, +he carried some tools—an axe, a saw, and a drawing-knife, all very rude +and heavy—and had evidently travelled some distance without rest. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped close by to survey the assemblage. +</p> + +<p> +“O Rabbi, good Rabbi Joseph!” cried a woman, running to him. +“Here is a prisoner; come ask the soldiers about him, that we may know +who he is, and what he has done, and what they are going to do with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The rabbi’s face remained stolid; he glanced at the prisoner, however, +and presently went to the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“The peace of the Lord be with you!” he said, with unbending +gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“And that of the gods with you,” the decurion replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you from Jerusalem?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your prisoner is young.” +</p> + +<p> +“In years, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask what he has done?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is an assassin.” +</p> + +<p> +The people repeated the word in astonishment, but Rabbi Joseph pursued his +inquest. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a son of Israel?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a Jew,” said the Roman, dryly. +</p> + +<p> +The wavering pity of the bystanders came back. +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing of your tribes, but can speak of his family,” the +speaker continued. “You may have heard of a prince of Jerusalem named +Hur—Ben-Hur, they called him. He lived in Herod’s day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen him,” Joseph said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this is his son.” +</p> + +<p> +Exclamations became general, and the decurion hastened to stop them. +</p> + +<p> +“In the streets of Jerusalem, day before yesterday, he nearly killed the +noble Gratus by flinging a tile upon his head from the roof of a +palace—his father’s, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause in the conversation during which the Nazarenes gazed at the +young Ben-Hur as at a wild beast. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he kill him?” asked the rabbi. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is under sentence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—the galleys for life.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord help him!” said Joseph, for once moved out of his +stolidity. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon a youth who came up with Joseph, but had stood behind him unobserved, +laid down an axe he had been carrying, and, going to the great stone standing +by the well, took from it a pitcher of water. The action was so quiet that +before the guard could interfere, had they been disposed to do so, he was +stooping over the prisoner, and offering him drink. +</p> + +<p> +The hand laid kindly upon his shoulder awoke the unfortunate Judah, and, +looking up, he saw a face he never forgot—the face of a boy about his own +age, shaded by locks of yellowish bright chestnut hair; a face lighted by +dark-blue eyes, at the time so soft, so appealing, so full of love and holy +purpose, that they had all the power of command and will. The spirit of the +Jew, hardened though it was by days and nights of suffering, and so embittered +by wrong that its dreams of revenge took in all the world, melted under the +stranger’s look, and became as a child’s. He put his lips to the +pitcher, and drank long and deep. Not a word was said to him, nor did he say a +word. +</p> + +<p> +When the draught was finished, the hand that had been resting upon the +sufferer’s shoulder was placed upon his head, and stayed there in the +dusty locks time enough to say a blessing; the stranger then returned the +pitcher to its place on the stone, and, taking his axe again, went back to +Rabbi Joseph. All eyes went with him, the decurion’s as well as those of +the villagers. +</p> + +<p> +This was the end of the scene at the well. When the men had drunk, and the +horses, the march was resumed. But the temper of the decurion was not as it had +been; he himself raised the prisoner from the dust, and helped him on a horse +behind a soldier. The Nazarenes went to their houses—among them Rabbi +Joseph and his apprentice. +</p> + +<p> +And so, for the first time, Judah and the son of Mary met and parted. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book03"></a>BOOK THIRD</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Cleopatra.... Our size of sorrow,<br> +Proportion’d to our cause, must be as great<br> +As that which makes it.—<br> + Enter, below, DIOMEDES.<br> + How now? is he dead?<br> +<br> +Diomedes. His death’s upon him, but not dead.”<br> + Antony and Cleopatra (act iv., sc. xiii.). +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +The city of Misenum gave name to the promontory which it crowned, a few miles +southwest of Naples. An account of ruins is all that remains of it now; yet in +the year of our Lord 24—to which it is desirable to advance the +reader—the place was one of the most important on the western coast of +Italy.[1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] The Roman government, it will be remembered, had two harbors in which great +fleets were constantly kept—Ravenna and Misenum. +</p> + +<p> +In the year mentioned, a traveller coming to the promontory to regale himself +with the view there offered, would have mounted a wall, and, with the city at +his back, looked over the bay of Neapolis, as charming then as now; and then, +as now, he would have seen the matchless shore, the smoking cone, the sky and +waves so softly, deeply blue, Ischia here and Capri yonder; from one to the +other and back again, through the purpled air, his gaze would have sported; at +last—for the eyes do weary of the beautiful as the palate with +sweets—at last it would have dropped upon a spectacle which the modern +tourist cannot see—half the reserve navy of Rome astir or at anchor below +him. Thus regarded, Misenum was a very proper place for three masters to meet, +and at leisure parcel the world among them. +</p> + +<p> +In the old time, moreover, there was a gateway in the wall at a certain point +fronting the sea—an empty gateway forming the outlet of a street which, +after the exit, stretched itself, in the form of a broad mole, out many stadia +into the waves. +</p> + +<p> +The watchman on the wall above the gateway was disturbed, one cool September +morning, by a party coming down the street in noisy conversation. He gave one +look, then settled into his drowse again. +</p> + +<p> +There were twenty or thirty persons in the party, of whom the greater number +were slaves with torches, which flamed little and smoked much, leaving on the +air the perfume of the Indian nard. The masters walked in advance arm-in-arm. +One of them, apparently fifty years old, slightly bald, and wearing over his +scant locks a crown of laurel, seemed, from the attentions paid him, the +central object of some affectionate ceremony. They all sported ample togas of +white wool broadly bordered with purple. A glance had sufficed the watchman. He +knew, without question, they were of high rank, and escorting a friend to ship +after a night of festivity. Further explanation will be found in the +conversation they carried on. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my Quintus,” said one, speaking to him with the crown, +“it is ill of Fortune to take thee from us so soon. Only yesterday thou +didst return from the seas beyond the Pillars. Why, thou hast not even got back +thy land legs.” +</p> + +<p> +“By Castor! if a man may swear a woman’s oath,” said another, +somewhat worse of wine, “let us not lament. Our Quintus is but going to +find what he lost last night. Dice on a rolling ship is not dice on +shore—eh, Quintus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Abuse not Fortune!” exclaimed a third. “She is not blind or +fickle. At Antium, where our Arrius questions her, she answers him with nods, +and at sea she abides with him holding the rudder. She takes him from us, but +does she not always give him back with a new victory?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Greeks are taking him away,” another broke in. “Let us +abuse them, not the gods. In learning to trade they forgot how to fight.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words, the party passed the gateway, and came upon the mole, with +the bay before them beautiful in the morning light. To the veteran sailor the +plash of the waves was like a greeting. He drew a long breath, as if the +perfume of the water were sweeter than that of the nard, and held his hand +aloft. +</p> + +<p> +“My gifts were at Praeneste, not Antium—and see! Wind from the +west. Thanks, O Fortune, my mother!” he said, earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +The friends all repeated the exclamation, and the slaves waved their torches. +</p> + +<p> +“She comes—yonder!” he continued, pointing to a galley +outside the mole. “What need has a sailor for other mistress? Is your +Lucrece more graceful, my Caius?” +</p> + +<p> +He gazed at the coming ship, and justified his pride. A white sail was bent to +the low mast, and the oars dipped, arose, poised a moment, then dipped again, +with wing-like action, and in perfect time. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, spare the gods,” he said, soberly, his eyes fixed upon the +vessel. “They send us opportunities. Ours the fault if we fail. And as +for the Greeks, you forget, O my Lentulus, the pirates I am going to punish are +Greeks. One victory over them is of more account than a hundred over the +Africans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thy way is to the Aegean?” +</p> + +<p> +The sailor’s eyes were full of his ship. +</p> + +<p> +“What grace, what freedom! A bird hath not less care for the fretting of +the waves. See!” he said, but almost immediately added, “Thy +pardon, my Lentulus. I am going to the Aegean; and as my departure is so near, +I will tell the occasion—only keep it under the rose. I would not that +you abuse the duumvir when next you meet him. He is my friend. The trade +between Greece and Alexandria, as ye may have heard, is hardly inferior to that +between Alexandria and Rome. The people in that part of the world forgot to +celebrate the Cerealia, and Triptolemus paid them with a harvest not worth the +gathering. At all events, the trade is so grown that it will not brook +interruption a day. Ye may also have heard of the Chersonesan pirates, nested +up in the Euxine; none bolder, by the Bacchae! Yesterday word came to Rome +that, with a fleet, they had rowed down the Bosphorus, sunk the galleys off +Byzantium and Chalcedon, swept the Propontis, and, still unsated, burst through +into the Aegean. The corn-merchants who have ships in the East Mediterranean +are frightened. They had audience with the Emperor himself, and from Ravenna +there go to-day a hundred galleys, and from Misenum”—he paused as +if to pique the curiosity of his friends, and ended with an +emphatic—“one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Happy Quintus! We congratulate thee!” +</p> + +<p> +“The preferment forerunneth promotion. We salute thee duumvir; nothing +less.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quintus Arrius, the duumvir, hath a better sound than Quintus Arrius, +the tribune.” +</p> + +<p> +In such manner they showered him with congratulations. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad with the rest,” said the bibulous friend, “very +glad; but I must be practical, O my duumvir; and not until I know if promotion +will help thee to knowledge of the tesserae will I have an opinion as to +whether the gods mean thee ill or good in this—this business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, many thanks!” Arrius replied, speaking to them +collectively. “Had ye but lanterns, I would say ye were augurs. Perpol! I +will go further, and show what master diviners ye are! See—and +read.” +</p> + +<p> +From the folds of his toga he drew a roll of paper, and passed it to them, +saying, “Received while at table last night from—Sejanus.” +</p> + +<p> +The name was already a great one in the Roman world; great, and not so infamous +as it afterwards became. +</p> + +<p> +“Sejanus!” they exclaimed, with one voice, closing in to read what +the minister had written. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Sejanus to C. Caecilius Rufus, Duumvir. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“ROME, XIX. Kal. Sept. +</p> + +<p> +“Cæsar hath good report of Quintus Arrius, the tribune. In particular he +hath heard of his valor, manifested in the western seas, insomuch that it is +his will that the said Quintus be transferred instantly to the East. +</p> + +<p> +“It is our Cæsar’s will, further, that you cause a hundred +triremes, of the first class, and full appointment, to be despatched without +delay against the pirates who have appeared in the Aegean, and that Quintus be +sent to command the fleet so despatched. +</p> + +<p> +“Details are thine, my Caecilius. +</p> + +<p> +“The necessity is urgent, as thou will be advised by the reports enclosed +for thy perusal and the information of the said Quintus. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“SEJANUS.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius gave little heed to the reading. As the ship drew more plainly out of +the perspective, she became more and more an attraction to him. The look with +which he watched her was that of an enthusiast. At length he tossed the +loosened folds of his toga in the air; in reply to the signal, over the +aplustre, or fan-like fixture at the stern of the vessel, a scarlet flag was +displayed; while several sailors appeared upon the bulwarks, and swung +themselves hand over hand up the ropes to the antenna, or yard, and furled the +sail. The bow was put round, and the time of the oars increased one half; so +that at racing speed she bore down directly towards him and his friends. He +observed the manoeuvring with a perceptible brightening of the eyes. Her +instant answer to the rudder, and the steadiness with which she kept her +course, were especially noticeable as virtues to be relied upon in action. +</p> + +<p> +“By the Nymphae!” said one of the friends, giving back the roll, +“we may not longer say our friend will be great; he is already great. Our +love will now have famous things to feed upon. What more hast thou for +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing more,” Arrius replied. “What ye have of the affair +is by this time old news in Rome, especially between the palace and the Forum. +The duumvir is discreet; what I am to do, where go to find my fleet, he will +tell on the ship, where a sealed package is waiting me. If, however, ye have +offerings for any of the altars to-day, pray the gods for a friend plying oar +and sail somewhere in the direction of Sicily. But she is here, and will come +to,” he said, reverting to the vessel. “I have interest in her +masters; they will sail and fight with me. It is not an easy thing to lay ship +side on a shore like this; so let us judge their training and skill.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, is she new to thee?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw her before; and, as yet, I know not if she will bring me one +acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that well?” +</p> + +<p> +“It matters but little. We of the sea come to know each other quickly; +our loves, like our hates, are born of sudden dangers.” +</p> + +<p> +The vessel was of the class called naves liburnicae—long, narrow, low in +the water, and modelled for speed and quick manoeuvre. The bow was beautiful. A +jet of water spun from its foot as she came on, sprinkling all the prow, which +rose in graceful curvature twice a man’s stature above the plane of the +deck. Upon the bending of the sides were figures of Triton blowing shells. +Below the bow, fixed to the keel, and projecting forward under the water-line, +was the rostrum, or beak, a device of solid wood, reinforced and armed with +iron, in action used as a ram. A stout molding extended from the bow the full +length of the ship’s sides, defining the bulwarks, which were tastefully +crenelated; below the molding, in three rows, each covered with a cap or shield +of bull-hide, were the holes in which the oars were worked—sixty on the +right, sixty on the left. In further ornamentation, caducei leaned against the +lofty prow. Two immense ropes passing across the bow marked the number of +anchors stowed on the foredeck. +</p> + +<p> +The simplicity of the upper works declared the oars the chief dependence of the +crew. A mast, set a little forward of midship, was held by fore and back stays +and shrouds fixed to rings on the inner side of the bulwarks. The tackle was +that required for the management of one great square sail and the yard to which +it was hung. Above the bulwarks the deck was visible. +</p> + +<p> +Save the sailors who had reefed the sail, and yet lingered on the yard, but one +man was to be seen by the party on the mole, and he stood by the prow helmeted +and with a shield. +</p> + +<p> +The hundred and twenty oaken blades, kept white and shining by pumice and the +constant wash of the waves, rose and fell as if operated by the same hand, and +drove the galley forward with a speed rivalling that of a modern steamer. +</p> + +<p> +So rapidly, and apparently, so rashly, did she come that the landsmen of the +tribune’s party were alarmed. Suddenly the man by the prow raised his +hand with a peculiar gesture; whereupon all the oars flew up, poised a moment +in air, then fell straight down. The water boiled and bubbled about them; the +galley shook in every timber, and stopped as if scared. Another gesture of the +hand, and again the oars arose, feathered, and fell; but this time those on the +right, dropping towards the stern, pushed forward; while those on the left, +dropping towards the bow, pulled backwards. Three times the oars thus pushed +and pulled against each other. Round to the right the ship swung as upon a +pivot; then, caught by the wind, she settled gently broadside to the mole. +</p> + +<p> +The movement brought the stern to view, with all its garniture—Tritons +like those at the bow; name in large raised letters; the rudder at the side; +the elevated platform upon which the helmsman sat, a stately figure in full +armor, his hand upon the rudder-rope; and the aplustre, high, gilt, carved, and +bent over the helmsman like a great runcinate leaf. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the rounding-to, a trumpet was blown brief and shrill, and from +the hatchways out poured the marines, all in superb equipment, brazen helms, +burnished shields and javelins. While the fighting-men thus went to quarters as +for action, the sailors proper climbed the shrouds and perched themselves along +the yard. The officers and musicians took their posts. There was no shouting or +needless noise. When the oars touched the mole, a bridge was sent out from the +helmsman’s deck. Then the tribune turned to his party and said, with a +gravity he had not before shown: +</p> + +<p> +“Duty now, O my friends.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the chaplet from his head and gave it to the dice-player. +</p> + +<p> +“Take thou the myrtle, O favorite of the tesserae!” he said. +“If I return, I will seek my sestertii again; if I am not victor, I will +not return. Hang the crown in thy atrium.” +</p> + +<p> +To the company he opened his arms, and they came one by one and received his +parting embrace. +</p> + +<p> +“The gods go with thee, O Quintus!” they said. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +To the slaves waving their torches he waved his hand; then he turned to the +waiting ship, beautiful with ordered ranks and crested helms, and shields and +javelins. As he stepped upon the bridge, the trumpets sounded, and over the +aplustre rose the vexillum purpureum, or pennant of a commander of a fleet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +The tribune, standing upon the helmsman’s deck with the order of the +duumvir open in his hand, spoke to the chief of the rowers.[1] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] Called hortator. +</p> + +<p> +“What force hast thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of oarsmen, two hundred and fifty-two; ten supernumeraries. +</p> + +<p> +“Making reliefs of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Eighty-four.” +</p> + +<p> +“And thy habit?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has been to take off and put on every two hours.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune mused a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“The division is hard, and I will reform it, but not now. The oars may +not rest day or night.” +</p> + +<p> +Then to the sailing-master he said, +</p> + +<p> +“The wind is fair. Let the sail help the oars.” +</p> + +<p> +When the two thus addressed were gone, he turned to the chief pilot.[2] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] Called rector. +</p> + +<p> +“What service hast thou had?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two-and-thirty years.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what seas chiefly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Between our Rome and the East.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art the man I would have chosen.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune looked at his orders again. +</p> + +<p> +“Past the Camponellan cape, the course will be to Messina. Beyond that, +follow the bend of the Calabrian shore till Melito is on thy left, then— +Knowest thou the stars that govern in the Ionian Sea?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know them well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then from Melito course eastward for Cythera. The gods willing, I will +not anchor until in the Bay of Antemona. The duty is urgent. I rely upon +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +A prudent man was Arrius—prudent, and of the class which, while enriching +the altars at Praeneste and Antium, was of opinion, nevertheless, that the +favor of the blind goddess depended more upon the votary’s care and +judgment than upon his gifts and vows. All night as master of the feast he had +sat at table drinking and playing; yet the odor of the sea returned him to the +mood of the sailor, and he would not rest until he knew his ship. Knowledge +leaves no room for chances. Having begun with the chief of the rowers, the +sailing-master, and the pilot, in company with the other officers—the +commander of the marines, the keeper of the stores, the master of the machines, +the overseer of the kitchen or fires—he passed through the several +quarters. Nothing escaped his inspection. When he was through, of the community +crowded within the narrow walls he alone knew perfectly all there was of +material preparation for the voyage and its possible incidents; and, finding +the preparation complete, there was left him but one thing +further—thorough knowledge of the personnel of his command. As this was +the most delicate and difficult part of his task, requiring much time, he set +about it his own way. +</p> + +<p> +At noon that day the galley was skimming the sea off Paestum. The wind was yet +from the west, filling the sail to the master’s content. The watches had +been established. On the foredeck the altar had been set and sprinkled with +salt and barley, and before it the tribune had offered solemn prayers to Jove +and to Neptune and all the Oceanidæ, and, with vows, poured the wine and +burned the incense. And now, the better to study his men, he was seated in the +great cabin, a very martial figure. +</p> + +<p> +The cabin, it should be stated, was the central compartment of the galley, in +extent quite sixty-five by thirty feet, and lighted by three broad hatchways. A +row of stanchions ran from end to end, supporting the roof, and near the centre +the mast was visible, all bristling with axes and spears and javelins. To each +hatchway there were double stairs descending right and left, with a pivotal +arrangement at the top to allow the lower ends to be hitched to the ceiling; +and, as these were now raised, the compartment had the appearance of a +skylighted hall. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will understand readily that this was the heart of the ship, the +home of all aboard—eating-room, sleeping-chamber, field of exercise, +lounging-place off duty—uses made possible by the laws which reduced life +there to minute details and a routine relentless as death. +</p> + +<p> +At the after-end of the cabin there was a platform, reached by several steps. +Upon it the chief of the rowers sat; in front of him a sounding-table, upon +which, with a gavel, he beat time for the oarsmen; at his right a clepsydra, or +water-clock, to measure the reliefs and watches. Above him, on a higher +platform, well guarded by gilded railing, the tribune had his quarters, +overlooking everything, and furnished with a couch, a table, and a cathedra, or +chair, cushioned, and with arms and high back—articles which the imperial +dispensation permitted of the utmost elegance. +</p> + +<p> +Thus at ease, lounging in the great chair, swaying with the motion of the +vessel, the military cloak half draping his tunic, sword in belt, Arrius kept +watchful eye over his command, and was as closely watched by them. He saw +critically everything in view, but dwelt longest upon the rowers. The reader +would doubtless have done the same: only he would have looked with much +sympathy, while, as is the habit with masters, the tribune’s mind ran +forward of what he saw, inquiring for results. +</p> + +<p> +The spectacle was simple enough of itself. Along the sides of the cabin, fixed +to the ship’s timbers, were what at first appeared to be three rows of +benches; a closer view, however, showed them a succession of rising banks, in +each of which the second bench was behind and above the first one, and the +third above and behind the second. To accommodate the sixty rowers on a side, +the space devoted to them permitted nineteen banks separated by intervals of +one yard, with a twentieth bank divided so that what would have been its upper +seat or bench was directly above the lower seat of the first bank. The +arrangement gave each rower when at work ample room, if he timed his movements +with those of his associates, the principle being that of soldiers marching +with cadenced step in close order. The arrangement also allowed a +multiplication of banks, limited only by the length of the galley. +</p> + +<p> +As to the rowers, those upon the first and second benches sat, while those upon +the third, having longer oars to work, were suffered to stand. The oars were +loaded with lead in the handles, and near the point of balance hung to pliable +thongs, making possible the delicate touch called feathering, but, at the same +time, increasing the need of skill, since an eccentric wave might at any moment +catch a heedless fellow and hurl him from his seat. Each oar-hole was a vent +through which the laborer opposite it had his plenty of sweet air. Light +streamed down upon him from the grating which formed the floor of the passage +between the deck and the bulwark over his head. In some respects, therefore, +the condition of the men might have been much worse. Still, it must not be +imagined that there was any pleasantness in their lives. Communication between +them was not allowed. Day after day they filled their places without speech; in +hours of labor they could not see each other’s faces; their short +respites were given to sleep and the snatching of food. They never laughed; no +one ever heard one of them sing. What is the use of tongues when a sigh or a +groan will tell all men feel while, perforce, they think in silence? Existence +with the poor wretches was like a stream under ground sweeping slowly, +laboriously on to its outlet, wherever that might chance to be. +</p> + +<p> +O Son of Mary! The sword has now a heart—and thine the glory! So now; +but, in the days of which we are writing, for captivity there was drudgery on +walls, and in the streets and mines, and the galleys both of war and commerce +were insatiable. When Druilius won the first sea-fight for his country, Romans +plied the oars, and the glory was to the rower not less than the marine. These +benches which now we are trying to see as they were testified to the change +come with conquest, and illustrated both the policy and the prowess of Rome. +Nearly all the nations had sons there, mostly prisoners of war, chosen for +their brawn and endurance. In one place a Briton; before him a Libyan; behind +him a Crimean. Elsewhere a Scythian, a Gaul, and a Thebasite. Roman convicts +cast down to consort with Goths and Longobardi, Jews, Ethiopians, and +barbarians from the shores of Maeotis. Here an Athenian, there a red-haired +savage from Hibernia, yonder blue-eyed giants of the Cimbri. +</p> + +<p> +In the labor of the rowers there was not enough art to give occupation to their +minds, rude and simple as they were. The reach forward, the pull, the +feathering the blade, the dip, were all there was of it; motions most perfect +when most automatic. Even the care forced upon them by the sea outside grew in +time to be a thing instinctive rather than of thought. So, as the result of +long service, the poor wretches became imbruted—patient, spiritless, +obedient—creatures of vast muscle and exhausted intellects, who lived +upon recollections generally few but dear, and at last lowered into the +semi-conscious alchemic state wherein misery turns to habit, and the soul takes +on incredible endurance. +</p> + +<p> +From right to left, hour after hour, the tribune, swaying in his easy-chair, +turned with thought of everything rather than the wretchedness of the slaves +upon the benches. Their motions, precise, and exactly the same on both sides of +the vessel, after a while became monotonous; and then he amused himself +singling out individuals. With his stylus he made note of objections, thinking, +if all went well, he would find among the pirates of whom he was in search +better men for the places. +</p> + +<p> +There was no need of keeping the proper names of the slaves brought to the +galleys as to their graves; so, for convenience, they were usually identified +by the numerals painted upon the benches to which they were assigned. As the +sharp eyes of the great man moved from seat to seat on either hand, they came +at last to number sixty, which, as has been said, belonged properly to the last +bank on the left-hand side, but, wanting room aft, had been fixed above the +first bench of the first bank. There they rested. +</p> + +<p> +The bench of number sixty was slightly above the level of the platform, and but +a few feet away. The light glinting through the grating over his head gave the +rower fairly to the tribune’s view—erect, and, like all his +fellows, naked, except a cincture about the loins. There were, however, some +points in his favor. He was very young, not more than twenty. Furthermore, +Arrius was not merely given to dice; he was a connoisseur of men physically, +and when ashore indulged a habit of visiting the gymnasia to see and admire the +most famous athletae. From some professor, doubtless, he had caught the idea +that strength was as much of the quality as the quantity of the muscle, while +superiority in performance required a certain mind as well as strength. Having +adopted the doctrine, like most men with a hobby, he was always looking for +illustrations to support it. +</p> + +<p> +The reader may well believe that while the tribune, in the search for the +perfect, was often called upon to stop and study, he was seldom perfectly +satisfied—in fact, very seldom held as long as on this occasion. +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning of each movement of the oar, the rower’s body and face +were brought into profile view from the platform; the movement ended with the +body reversed, and in a pushing posture. The grace and ease of the action at +first suggested a doubt of the honesty of the effort put forth; but it was +speedily dismissed; the firmness with which the oar was held while in the reach +forward, its bending under the push, were proofs of the force applied; not that +only, they as certainly proved the rower’s art, and put the critic in the +great arm-chair in search of the combination of strength and cleverness which +was the central idea of his theory. +</p> + +<p> +In course of the study, Arrius observed the subject’s youth; wholly +unconscious of tenderness on that account, he also observed that he seemed of +good height, and that his limbs, upper and nether, were singularly perfect. The +arms, perhaps, were too long, but the objection was well hidden under a mass of +muscle, which, in some movements, swelled and knotted like kinking cords. Every +rib in the round body was discernible; yet the leanness was the healthful +reduction so strained after in the palaestrae. And altogether there was in the +rower’s action a certain harmony which, besides addressing itself to the +tribune’s theory, stimulated both his curiosity and general interest. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon he found himself waiting to catch a view of the man’s face in +full. The head was shapely, and balanced upon a neck broad at the base, but of +exceeding pliancy and grace. The features in profile were of Oriental outline, +and of that delicacy of expression which has always been thought a sign of +blood and sensitive spirit. With these observations, the tribune’s +interest in the subject deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“By the gods,” he said to himself, “the fellow impresses me! +He promises well. I will know more of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Directly the tribune caught the view he wished—the rower turned and +looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“A Jew! and a boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Under the gaze then fixed steadily upon him, the large eyes of the slave grew +larger—the blood surged to his very brows—the blade lingered in his +hands. But instantly, with an angry crash, down fell the gavel of the hortator. +The rower started, withdrew his face from the inquisitor, and, as if personally +chidden, dropped the oar half feathered. When he glanced again at the tribune, +he was vastly more astonished—he was met with a kindly smile. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the galley entered the Straits of Messina, and, skimming past the city +of that name, was after a while turned eastward, leaving the cloud over Ætna +in the sky astern. +</p> + +<p> +Often as Arrius resumed to his platform in the cabin he returned to study the +rower, and he kept saying to himself, “The fellow hath a spirit. A Jew is +not a barbarian. I will know more of him.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +The fourth day out, and the Astroea—so the galley was +named—speeding through the Ionian Sea. The sky was clear, and the wind +blew as if bearing the good-will of all the gods. +</p> + +<p> +As it was possible to overtake the fleet before reaching the bay east of the +island of Cythera, designated for assemblage, Arrius, somewhat impatient, spent +much time on deck. He took note diligently of matters pertaining to his ship, +and as a rule was well pleased. In the cabin, swinging in the great chair, his +thought continually reverted to the rower on number sixty. +</p> + +<p> +“Knowest thou the man just come from yon bench?” he at length asked +of the hortator. +</p> + +<p> +A relief was going on at the moment. +</p> + +<p> +“From number sixty?” returned the chief. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +The chief looked sharply at the rower then going forward. +</p> + +<p> +“As thou knowest,” he replied “the ship is but a month from +the maker’s hand, and the men are as new to me as the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a Jew,” Arrius remarked, thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“The noble Quintus is shrewd.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is very young,” Arrius continued. +</p> + +<p> +“But our best rower,” said the other. “I have seen his oar +bend almost to breaking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what disposition is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is obedient; further I know not. Once he made request of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“For what?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wished me to change him alternately from the right to the +left.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he give a reason?” +</p> + +<p> +“He had observed that the men who are confined to one side become +misshapen. He also said that some day of storm or battle there might be sudden +need to change him, and he might then be unserviceable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perpol! The idea is new. What else hast thou observed of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is cleanly above his companions.” +</p> + +<p> +“In that he is Roman,” said Arrius, approvingly. “Have you +nothing of his history?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune reflected awhile, and turned to go to his own seat. +</p> + +<p> +“If I should be on deck when his time is up,” he paused to say, +“send him to me. Let him come alone.” +</p> + +<p> +About two hours later Arrius stood under the aplustre of the galley; in the +mood of one who, seeing himself carried swiftly towards an event of mighty +import, has nothing to do but wait—the mood in which philosophy vests an +even-minded man with the utmost calm, and is ever so serviceable. The pilot sat +with a hand upon the rope by which the rudder paddles, one on each side of the +vessel, were managed. In the shade of the sail some sailors lay asleep, and up +on the yard there was a lookout. Lifting his eyes from the solarium set under +the aplustre for reference in keeping the course, Arrius beheld the rower +approaching. +</p> + +<p> +“The chief called thee the noble Arrius, and said it was thy will that I +should seek thee here. I have come.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius surveyed the figure, tall, sinewy, glistening in the sun, and tinted by +the rich red blood within—surveyed it admiringly, and with a thought of +the arena; yet the manner was not without effect upon him: there was in the +voice a suggestion of life at least partly spent under refining influences; the +eyes were clear and open, and more curious than defiant. To the shrewd, +demanding, masterful glance bent upon it, the face gave back nothing to mar its +youthful comeliness—nothing of accusation or sullenness or menace, only +the signs which a great sorrow long borne imprints, as time mellows the surface +of pictures. In tacit acknowledgment of the effect, the Roman spoke as an older +man to a younger, not as a master to a slave. +</p> + +<p> +“The hortator tells me thou art his best rower.” +</p> + +<p> +“The hortator is very kind,” the rower answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Hast thou seen much service?” +</p> + +<p> +“About three years.” +</p> + +<p> +“At the oars?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot recall a day of rest from them.” +</p> + +<p> +“The labor is hard; few men bear it a year without breaking, and +thou—thou art but a boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“The noble Arrius forgets that the spirit hath much to do with endurance. +By its help the weak sometimes thrive, when the strong perish.” +</p> + +<p> +“From thy speech, thou art a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“My ancestors further back than the first Roman were Hebrews.” +</p> + +<p> +“The stubborn pride of thy race is not lost in thee,” said Arrius, +observing a flush upon the rower’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Pride is never so loud as when in chains.” +</p> + +<p> +“What cause hast thou for pride?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I am a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I have not been to Jerusalem,” he said; “but I have heard of +its princes. I knew one of them. He was a merchant, and sailed the seas. He was +fit to have been a king. Of what degree art thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must answer thee from the bench of a galley. I am of the degree of +slaves. My father was a prince of Jerusalem, and, as a merchant, he sailed the +seas. He was known and honored in the guest-chamber of the great +Augustus.” +</p> + +<p> +“His name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ithamar, of the house of Hur.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune raised his hand in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“A son of Hur—thou?” +</p> + +<p> +After a silence, he asked, +</p> + +<p> +“What brought thee here?” +</p> + +<p> +Judah lowered his head, and his breast labored hard. When his feelings were +sufficiently mastered, he looked the tribune in the face, and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“I was accused of attempting to assassinate Valerius Gratus, the +procurator.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou!” cried Arrius, yet more amazed, and retreating a step. +“Thou that assassin! All Rome rang with the story. It came to my ship in +the river by Lodinum.” +</p> + +<p> +The two regarded each other silently. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought the family of Hur blotted from the earth,” said Arrius, +speaking first. +</p> + +<p> +A flood of tender recollections carried the young man’s pride away; tears +shone upon his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother—mother! And my little Tirzah! Where are they? O tribune, +noble tribune, if thou knowest anything of them”—he clasped his +hands in appeal—“tell me all thou knowest. Tell me if they are +living—if living, where are they? and in what condition? Oh, I pray thee, +tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +He drew nearer Arrius, so near that his hands touched the cloak where it +dropped from the latter’s folded arms. +</p> + +<p> +“The horrible day is three years gone,” he +continued—“three years, O tribune, and every hour a whole lifetime +of misery—a lifetime in a bottomless pit with death, and no relief but in +labor—and in all that time not a word from any one, not a whisper. Oh, +if, in being forgotten, we could only forget! If only I could hide from that +scene—my sister torn from me, my mother’s last look! I have felt +the plague’s breath, and the shock of ships in battle; I have heard the +tempest lashing the sea, and laughed, though others prayed: death would have +been a riddance. Bend the oar—yes, in the strain of mighty effort trying +to escape the haunting of what that day occurred. Think what little will help +me. Tell me they are dead, if no more, for happy they cannot be while I am +lost. I have heard them call me in the night; I have seen them on the water +walking. Oh, never anything so true as my mother’s love! And +Tirzah—her breath was as the breath of white lilies. She was the youngest +branch of the palm—so fresh, so tender, so graceful, so beautiful! She +made my day all morning. She came and went in music. And mine was the hand that +laid them low! I—” +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou admit thy guilt?” asked Arrius, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +The change that came upon Ben-Hur was wonderful to see, it was so instant and +extreme. The voice sharpened; the hands arose tight-clenched; every fibre +thrilled; his eyes inflamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast heard of the God of my fathers,” he said; “of the +infinite Jehovah. By his truth and almightiness, and by the love with which he +hath followed Israel from the beginning, I swear I am innocent!” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune was much moved. +</p> + +<p> +“O noble Roman!” continued Ben-Hur, “give me a little faith, +and, into my darkness, deeper darkening every day, send a light!” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius turned away, and walked the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“Didst thou not have a trial?” he asked, stopping suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” +</p> + +<p> +The Roman raised his head, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“No trial—no witnesses! Who passed judgment upon thee?” +</p> + +<p> +Romans, it should be remembered, were at no time such lovers of the law and its +forms as in the ages of their decay. +</p> + +<p> +“They bound me with cords, and dragged me to a vault in the Tower. I saw +no one. No one spoke to me. Next day soldiers took me to the seaside. I have +been a galley-slave ever since.” +</p> + +<p> +“What couldst thou have proven?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was a boy, too young to be a conspirator. Gratus was a stranger to me. +If I had meant to kill him, that was not the time or the place. He was riding +in the midst of a legion, and it was broad day. I could not have escaped. I was +of a class most friendly to Rome. My father had been distinguished for his +services to the emperor. We had a great estate to lose. Ruin was certain to +myself, my mother, my sister. I had no cause for malice, while every +consideration—property, family, life, conscience, the Law—to a son +of Israel as the breath of his nostrils—would have stayed my hand, though +the foul intent had been ever so strong. I was not mad. Death was preferable to +shame; and, believe me, I pray, it is so yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was with thee when the blow was struck?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was on the house-top—my father’s house. Tirzah was with +me—at my side—the soul of gentleness. Together we leaned over the +parapet to see the legion pass. A tile gave way under my hand, and fell upon +Gratus. I thought I had killed him. Ah, what horror I felt!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where was thy mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“In her chamber below.” +</p> + +<p> +“What became of her?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur clenched his hands, and drew a breath like a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know. I saw them drag her away—that is all I know. Out of +the house they drove every living thing, even the dumb cattle, and they sealed +the gates. The purpose was that she should not return. I, too, ask for her. Oh +for one word! She, at least, was innocent. I can forgive—but I pray thy +pardon, noble tribune! A slave like me should not talk of forgiveness or of +revenge. I am bound to an oar for life.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius listened intently. He brought all his experience with slaves to his aid. +If the feeling shown in this instance were assumed, the acting was perfect; on +the other hand, if it were real, the Jew’s innocence might not be +doubted; and if he were innocent, with what blind fury the power had been +exercised! A whole family blotted out to atone an accident! The thought shocked +him. +</p> + +<p> +There is no wiser providence than that our occupations, however rude or bloody, +cannot wear us out morally; that such qualities as justice and mercy, if they +really possess us, continue to live on under them, like flowers under the snow. +The tribune could be inexorable, else he had not been fit for the usages of his +calling; he could also be just; and to excite his sense of wrong was to put him +in the way to right the wrong. The crews of the ships in which he served came +after a time to speak of him as the good tribune. Shrewd readers will not want +a better definition of his character. +</p> + +<p> +In this instance there were many circumstances certainly in the young +man’s favor, and some to be supposed. Possibly Arrius knew Valerius +Gratus without loving him. Possibly he had known the elder Hur. In the course +of his appeal, Judah had asked him of that; and, as will be noticed, he had +made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +For once the tribune was at loss, and hesitated. His power was ample. He was +monarch of the ship. His prepossessions all moved him to mercy. His faith was +won. Yet, he said to himself, there was no haste—or, rather, there was +haste to Cythera; the best rower could not then be spared; he would wait; he +would learn more; he would at least be sure this was the prince Ben-Hur, and +that he was of a right disposition. Ordinarily, slaves were liars. +</p> + +<p> +“It is enough,” he said aloud. “Go back to thy place.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur bowed; looked once more into the master’s face, but saw nothing +for hope. He turned away slowly, looked back, and said, +</p> + +<p> +“If thou dost think of me again, O tribune, let it not be lost in thy +mind that I prayed thee only for word of my people—mother, sister.” +</p> + +<p> +He moved on. +</p> + +<p> +Arrius followed him with admiring eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Perpol!” he thought. “With teaching, what a man for the +arena! What a runner! Ye gods! what an arm for the sword or the +cestus!—Stay!” he said aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur stopped, and the tribune went to him. +</p> + +<p> +“If thou wert free, what wouldst thou do?” +</p> + +<p> +“The noble Arrius mocks me!” Judah said, with trembling lips. +</p> + +<p> +“No; by the gods, no!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will answer gladly. I would give myself to duty the first of +life. I would know no other. I would know no rest until my mother and Tirzah +were restored to home. I would give every day and hour to their happiness. I +would wait upon them; never a slave more faithful. They have lost much, but, by +the God of my fathers, I would find them more!” +</p> + +<p> +The answer was unexpected by the Roman. For a moment he lost his purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“I spoke to thy ambition,” he said, recovering. “If thy +mother and sister were dead, or not to be found, what wouldst thou do?” +</p> + +<p> +A distinct pallor overspread Ben-Hur’s face, and he looked over the sea. +There was a struggle with some strong feeling; when it was conquered, he turned +to the tribune. +</p> + +<p> +“What pursuit would I follow?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tribune, I will tell thee truly. Only the night before the dreadful day +of which I have spoken, I obtained permission to be a soldier. I am of the same +mind yet; and, as in all the earth there is but one school of war, thither I +would go.” +</p> + +<p> +“The palaestra!” exclaimed Arrius. +</p> + +<p> +“No; a Roman camp.” +</p> + +<p> +“But thou must first acquaint thyself with the use of arms.” +</p> + +<p> +Now a master may never safely advise a slave. Arrius saw his indiscretion, and, +in a breath, chilled his voice and manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Go now,” he said, “and do not build upon what has passed +between us. Perhaps I do but play with thee. Or”—he looked away +musingly—“or, if thou dost think of it with any hope, choose +between the renown of a gladiator and the service of a soldier. The former may +come of the favor of the emperor; there is no reward for thee in the latter. +Thou art not a Roman. Go!” +</p> + +<p> +A short while after Ben-Hur was upon his bench again. +</p> + +<p> +A man’s task is always light if his heart is light. Handling the oar did +not seem so toilsome to Judah. A hope had come to him, like a singing bird. He +could hardly see the visitor or hear its song; that it was there, though, he +knew; his feelings told him so. The caution of the tribune—“Perhaps +I do but play with thee”—was dismissed often as it recurred to his +mind. That he had been called by the great man and asked his story was the +bread upon which he fed his hungry spirit. Surely something good would come of +it. The light about his bench was clear and bright with promises, and he +prayed. +</p> + +<p> +“O God! I am a true son of the Israel thou hast so loved! Help me, I pray +thee!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +In the Bay of Antemona, east of Cythera the island, the hundred galleys +assembled. There the tribune gave one day to inspection. He sailed then to +Naxos, the largest of the Cyclades, midway the coasts of Greece and Asia, like +a great stone planted in the centre of a highway, from which he could challenge +everything that passed; at the same time, he would be in position to go after +the pirates instantly, whether they were in the Ægean or out on the +Mediterranean. +</p> + +<p> +As the fleet, in order, rowed in towards the mountain shores of the island, a +galley was descried coming from the north. Arrius went to meet it. She proved +to be a transport just from Byzantium, and from her commander he learned the +particulars of which he stood in most need. +</p> + +<p> +The pirates were from all the farther shores of the Euxine. Even Tanais, at the +mouth of the river which was supposed to feed Palus Maeotis, was represented +among them. Their preparations had been with the greatest secrecy. The first +known of them was their appearance off the entrance to the Thracian Bosphorus, +followed by the destruction of the fleet in station there. Thence to the outlet +of the Hellespont everything afloat had fallen their prey. There were quite +sixty galleys in the squadron, all well manned and supplied. A few were +biremes, the rest stout triremes. A Greek was in command, and the pilots, said +to be familiar with all the Eastern seas, were Greek. The plunder had been +incalculable. The panic, consequently, was not on the sea alone; cities, with +closed gates, sent their people nightly to the walls. Traffic had almost +ceased. +</p> + +<p> +Where were the pirates now? +</p> + +<p> +To this question, of most interest to Arrius, he received answer. +</p> + +<p> +After sacking Hephaestia, on the island of Lemnos, the enemy had coursed across +to the Thessalian group, and, by last account, disappeared in the gulfs between +Euboea and Hellas. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the tidings. +</p> + +<p> +Then the people of the island, drawn to the hill-tops by the rare spectacle of +a hundred ships careering in united squadron, beheld the advance division +suddenly turn to the north, and the others follow, wheeling upon the same point +like cavalry in a column. News of the piratical descent had reached them, and +now, watching the white sails until they faded from sight up between Rhene and +Syros, the thoughtful among them took comfort, and were grateful. What Rome +seized with strong hand she always defended: in return for their taxes, she +gave them safety. +</p> + +<p> +The tribune was more than pleased with the enemy’s movements; he was +doubly thankful to Fortune. She had brought swift and sure intelligence, and +had lured his foes into the waters where, of all others, destruction was most +assured. He knew the havoc one galley could play in a broad sea like the +Mediterranean, and the difficulty of finding and overhauling her; he knew, +also, how those very circumstances would enhance the service and glory if, at +one blow, he could put a finish to the whole piratical array. +</p> + +<p> +If the reader will take a map of Greece and the Ægean, he will notice the +island of Euboea lying along the classic coast like a rampart against Asia, +leaving a channel between it and the continent quite a hundred and twenty miles +in length, and scarcely an average of eight in width. The inlet on the north +had admitted the fleet of Xerxes, and now it received the bold raiders from the +Euxine. The towns along the Pelasgic and Meliac gulfs were rich and their +plunder seductive. All things considered, therefore, Arrius judged that the +robbers might be found somewhere below Thermopylae. Welcoming the chance, he +resolved to enclose them north and south, to do which not an hour could be +lost; even the fruits and wines and women of Naxos must be left behind. So he +sailed away without stop or tack until, a little before nightfall, Mount Ocha +was seen upreared against the sky, and the pilot reported the Euboean coast. +</p> + +<p> +At a signal the fleet rested upon its oars. When the movement was resumed, +Arrius led a division of fifty of the galleys, intending to take them up the +channel, while another division, equally strong, turned their prows to the +outer or seaward side of the island, with orders to make all haste to the upper +inlet, and descend sweeping the waters. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, neither division was equal in number to the pirates; but each had +advantages in compensation, among them, by no means least, a discipline +impossible to a lawless horde, however brave. Besides, it was a shrewd count on +the tribune’s side, if, peradventure, one should be defeated, the other +would find the enemy shattered by his victory, and in condition to be easily +overwhelmed. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Ben-Hur kept his bench, relieved every six hours. The rest in the Bay +of Antemona had freshened him, so that the oar was not troublesome, and the +chief on the platform found no fault. +</p> + +<p> +People, generally, are not aware of the ease of mind there is in knowing where +they are, and where they are going. The sensation of being lost is a keen +distress; still worse is the feeling one has in driving blindly into unknown +places. Custom had dulled the feeling with Ben-Hur, but only measurably. +Pulling away hour after hour, sometimes days and nights together, sensible all +the time that the galley was gliding swiftly along some of the many tracks of +the broad sea, the longing to know where he was, and whither going, was always +present with him; but now it seemed quickened by the hope which had come to new +life in his breast since the interview with the tribune. The narrower the +abiding-place happens to be, the more intense is the longing; and so he found. +He seemed to hear every sound of the ship in labor, and listened to each one as +if it were a voice come to tell him something; he looked to the grating +overhead, and through it into the light of which so small a portion was his, +expecting, he knew not what; and many times he caught himself on the point of +yielding to the impulse to speak to the chief on the platform, than which no +circumstance of battle would have astonished that dignitary more. +</p> + +<p> +In his long service, by watching the shifting of the meager sunbeams upon the +cabin floor when the ship was under way, he had come to know, generally, the +quarter into which she was sailing. This, of course, was only of clear days +like those good-fortune was sending the tribune. The experience had not failed +him in the period succeeding the departure from Cythera. Thinking they were +tending towards the old Judean country, he was sensitive to every variation +from the course. With a pang, he had observed the sudden change northward +which, as has been noticed, took place near Naxos: the cause, however, he could +not even conjecture; for it must be remembered that, in common with his +fellow-slaves, he knew nothing of the situation, and had no interest in the +voyage. His place was at the oar, and he was held there inexorably, whether at +anchor or under sail. Once only in three years had he been permitted an outlook +from the deck. The occasion we have seen. He had no idea that, following the +vessel he was helping drive, there was a great squadron close at hand and in +beautiful order; no more did he know the object of which it was in pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +When the sun, going down, withdrew his last ray from the cabin, the galley +still held northward. Night fell, yet Ben-Hur could discern no change. About +that time the smell of incense floated down the gangways from the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“The tribune is at the altar,” he thought. “Can it be we are +going into battle?” +</p> + +<p> +He became observant. +</p> + +<p> +Now he had been in many battles without having seen one. From his bench he had +heard them above and about him, until he was familiar with all their notes, +almost as a singer with a song. So, too, he had become acquainted with many of +the preliminaries of an engagement, of which, with a Roman as well as a Greek, +the most invariable was the sacrifice to the gods. The rites were the same as +those performed at the beginning of a voyage, and to him, when noticed, they +were always an admonition. +</p> + +<p> +A battle, it should be observed, possessed for him and his fellow-slaves of the +oar an interest unlike that of the sailor and marine; it came, not of the +danger encountered but of the fact that defeat, if survived, might bring an +alteration of condition—possibly freedom—at least a change of +masters, which might be for the better. +</p> + +<p> +In good time the lanterns were lighted and hung by the stairs, and the tribune +came down from the deck. At his word the marines put on their armor. At his +word again, the machines were looked to, and spears, javelins, and arrows, in +great sheaves, brought and laid upon the floor, together with jars of +inflammable oil, and baskets of cotton balls wound loose like the wicking of +candles. And when, finally, Ben-Hur saw the tribune mount his platform and don +his armor, and get his helmet and shield out, the meaning of the preparations +might not be any longer doubted, and he made ready for the last ignominy of his +service. +</p> + +<p> +To every bench, as a fixture, there was a chain with heavy anklets. These the +hortator proceeded to lock upon the oarsmen, going from number to number, +leaving no choice but to obey, and, in event of disaster, no possibility of +escape. +</p> + +<p> +In the cabin, then, a silence fell, broken, at first, only by the sough of the +oars turning in the leathern cases. Every man upon the benches felt the shame, +Ben-Hur more keenly than his companions. He would have put it away at any +price. Soon the clanking of the fetters notified him of the progress the chief +was making in his round. He would come to him in turn; but would not the +tribune interpose for him? +</p> + +<p> +The thought may be set down to vanity or selfishness, as the reader pleases; it +certainly, at that moment, took possession of Ben-Hur. He believed the Roman +would interpose; anyhow, the circumstance would test the man’s feelings. +If, intent upon the battle, he would but think of him, it would be proof of his +opinion formed—proof that he had been tacitly promoted above his +associates in misery—such proof as would justify hope. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur waited anxiously. The interval seemed like an age. At every turn of the +oar he looked towards the tribune, who, his simple preparations made, lay down +upon the couch and composed himself to rest; whereupon number sixty chid +himself, and laughed grimly, and resolved not to look that way again. +</p> + +<p> +The hortator approached. Now he was at number one—the rattle of the iron +links sounded horribly. At last number sixty! Calm from despair, Ben-Hur held +his oar at poise, and gave his foot to the officer. Then the tribune +stirred—sat up—beckoned to the chief. +</p> + +<p> +A strong revulsion seized the Jew. From the hortator, the great man glanced at +him; and when he dropped his oar all the section of the ship on his side seemed +aglow. He heard nothing of what was said; enough that the chain hung idly from +its staple in the bench, and that the chief, going to his seat, began to beat +the sounding-board. The notes of the gavel were never so like music. With his +breast against the leaded handle, he pushed with all his might—pushed +until the shaft bent as if about to break. +</p> + +<p> +The chief went to the tribune, and, smiling, pointed to number sixty. +</p> + +<p> +“What strength!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“And what spirit!” the tribune answered. “Perpol! He is +better without the irons. Put them on him no more.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he stretched himself upon the couch again. +</p> + +<p> +The ship sailed on hour after hour under the oars in water scarcely rippled by +the wind. And the people not on duty slept, Arrius in his place, the marines on +the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Once—twice—Ben-Hur was relieved; but he could not sleep. Three +years of night, and through the darkness a sunbeam at last! At sea adrift and +lost, and now land! Dead so long, and, lo! the thrill and stir of resurrection. +Sleep was not for such an hour. Hope deals with the future; now and the past +are but servants that wait on her with impulse and suggestive circumstance. +Starting from the favor of the tribune, she carried him forward indefinitely. +The wonder is, not that things so purely imaginative as the results she points +us to can make us so happy, but that we can receive them as so real. They must +be as gorgeous poppies under the influence of which, under the crimson and +purple and gold, reason lies down the while, and is not. Sorrows assuaged, home +and the fortunes of his house restored; mother and sister in his arms once +more—such were the central ideas which made him happier that moment than +he had ever been. That he was rushing, as on wings, into horrible battle had, +for the time, nothing to do with his thoughts. The things thus in hope were +unmixed with doubts—they WERE. Hence his joy so full, so perfect, there +was no room in his heart for revenge. Messala, Gratus, Rome, and all the +bitter, passionate memories connected with them, were as dead +plagues—miasms of the earth above which he floated, far and safe, +listening to singing stars. +</p> + +<p> +The deeper darkness before the dawn was upon the waters, and all things going +well with the Astroea, when a man, descending from the deck, walked swiftly to +the platform where the tribune slept, and awoke him. Arrius arose, put on his +helmet, sword, and shield, and went to the commander of the marines. +</p> + +<p> +“The pirates are close by. Up and ready!” he said, and passed to +the stairs, calm, confident, insomuch that one might have thought, “Happy +fellow! Apicius has set a feast for him.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +Every soul aboard, even the ship, awoke. Officers went to their quarters. The +marines took arms, and were led out, looking in all respects like legionaries. +Sheaves of arrows and armfuls of javelins were carried on deck. By the central +stairs the oil-tanks and fire-balls were set ready for use. Additional lanterns +were lighted. Buckets were filled with water. The rowers in relief assembled +under guard in front of the chief. As Providence would have it, Ben-Hur was one +of the latter. Overhead he heard the muffled noises of the final +preparations—of the sailors furling sail, spreading the nettings, +unslinging the machines, and hanging the armor of bull-hide over the side. +Presently quiet settled about the galley again; quiet full of vague dread and +expectation, which, interpreted, means READY. +</p> + +<p> +At a signal passed down from the deck, and communicated to the hortator by a +petty officer stationed on the stairs, all at once the oars stopped. +</p> + +<p> +What did it mean? +</p> + +<p> +Of the hundred and twenty slaves chained to the benches, not one but asked +himself the question. They were without incentive. Patriotism, love of honor, +sense of duty, brought them no inspiration. They felt the thrill common to men +rushed helpless and blind into danger. It may be supposed the dullest of them, +poising his oar, thought of all that might happen, yet could promise himself +nothing; for victory would but rivet his chains the firmer, while the chances +of the ship were his; sinking or on fire, he was doomed to her fate. +</p> + +<p> +Of the situation without they might not ask. And who were the enemy? And what +if they were friends, brethren, countrymen? The reader, carrying the suggestion +forward, will see the necessity which governed the Roman when, in such +emergencies, he locked the hapless wretches to their seats. +</p> + +<p> +There was little time, however, for such thought with them. A sound like the +rowing of galleys astern attracted Ben-Hur, and the Astroea rocked as if in the +midst of countering waves. The idea of a fleet at hand broke upon him—a +fleet in manoeuvre—forming probably for attack. His blood started with +the fancy. +</p> + +<p> +Another signal came down from the deck. The oars dipped, and the galley started +imperceptibly. No sound from without, none from within, yet each man in the +cabin instinctively poised himself for a shock; the very ship seemed to catch +the sense, and hold its breath, and go crouched tiger-like. +</p> + +<p> +In such a situation time is inappreciable; so that Ben-Hur could form no +judgment of distance gone. At last there was a sound of trumpets on deck, full, +clear, long blown. The chief beat the sounding-board until it rang; the rowers +reached forward full length, and, deepening the dip of their oars, pulled +suddenly with all their united force. The galley, quivering in every timber, +answered with a leap. Other trumpets joined in the clamor—all from the +rear, none forward—from the latter quarter only a rising sound of voices +in tumult heard briefly. There was a mighty blow; the rowers in front of the +chief’s platform reeled, some of them fell; the ship bounded back, +recovered, and rushed on more irresistibly than before. Shrill and high arose +the shrieks of men in terror; over the blare of trumpets, and the grind and +crash of the collision, they arose; then under his feet, under the keel, +pounding, rumbling, breaking to pieces, drowning, Ben-Hur felt something +overridden. The men about him looked at each other afraid. A shout of triumph +from the deck—the beak of the Roman had won! But who were they whom the +sea had drunk? Of what tongue, from what land were they? +</p> + +<p> +No pause, no stay! Forward rushed the Astroea; and, as it went, some sailors +ran down, and plunging the cotton balls into the oil-tanks, tossed them +dripping to comrades at the head of the stairs: fire was to be added to other +horrors of the combat. +</p> + +<p> +Directly the galley heeled over so far that the oarsmen on the uppermost side +with difficulty kept their benches. Again the hearty Roman cheer, and with it +despairing shrieks. An opposing vessel, caught by the grappling-hooks of the +great crane swinging from the prow, was being lifted into the air that it might +be dropped and sunk. +</p> + +<p> +The shouting increased on the right hand and on the left; before, behind, +swelled an indescribable clamor. Occasionally there was a crash, followed by +sudden peals of fright, telling of other ships ridden down, and their crews +drowned in the vortexes. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was the fight all on one side. Now and then a Roman in armor was borne down +the hatchway, and laid bleeding, sometimes dying, on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes, also, puffs of smoke, blended with steam, and foul with the scent of +roasting human flesh, poured into the cabin, turning the dimming light into +yellow murk. Gasping for breath the while, Ben-Hur knew they were passing +through the cloud of a ship on fire, and burning up with the rowers chained to +the benches. +</p> + +<p> +The Astroea all this time was in motion. Suddenly she stopped. The oars forward +were dashed from the hands of the rowers, and the rowers from their benches. On +deck, then, a furious trampling, and on the sides a grinding of ships afoul of +each other. For the first time the beating of the gavel was lost in the uproar. +Men sank on the floor in fear or looked about seeking a hiding-place. In the +midst of the panic a body plunged or was pitched headlong down the hatchway, +falling near Ben-Hur. He beheld the half-naked carcass, a mass of hair +blackening the face, and under it a shield of bull-hide and wicker-work—a +barbarian from the white-skinned nations of the North whom death had robbed of +plunder and revenge. How came he there? An iron hand had snatched him from the +opposing deck—no, the Astroea had been boarded! The Romans were fighting +on their own deck? A chill smote the young Jew: Arrius was hard +pressed—he might be defending his own life. If he should be slain! God of +Abraham forefend! The hopes and dreams so lately come, were they only hopes and +dreams? Mother and sister—house—home—Holy Land—was he +not to see them, after all? The tumult thundered above him; he looked around; +in the cabin all was confusion—the rowers on the benches paralyzed; men +running blindly hither and thither; only the chief on his seat imperturbable, +vainly beating the sounding-board, and waiting the orders of the +tribune—in the red murk illustrating the matchless discipline which had +won the world. +</p> + +<p> +The example had a good effect upon Ben-Hur. He controlled himself enough to +think. Honor and duty bound the Roman to the platform; but what had he to do +with such motives then? The bench was a thing to run from; while, if he were to +die a slave, who would be the better of the sacrifice? With him living was +duty, if not honor. His life belonged to his people. They arose before him +never more real: he saw them, their arms outstretched; he heard them imploring +him. And he would go to them. He started—stopped. Alas! a Roman judgment +held him in doom. While it endured, escape would be profitless. In the wide, +wide earth there was no place in which he would be safe from the imperial +demand; upon the land none, nor upon the sea. Whereas he required freedom +according to the forms of law, so only could he abide in Judea and execute the +filial purpose to which he would devote himself: in other land he would not +live. Dear God! How he had waited and watched and prayed for such a release! +And how it had been delayed! But at last he had seen it in the promise of the +tribune. What else the great man’s meaning? And if the benefactor so +belated should now be slain! The dead come not back to redeem the pledges of +the living. It should not be—Arrius should not die. At least, better +perish with him than survive a galley-slave. +</p> + +<p> +Once more Ben-Hur looked around. Upon the roof of the cabin the battle yet +beat; against the sides the hostile vessels yet crushed and grided. On the +benches, the slaves struggled to tear loose from their chains, and, finding +their efforts vain, howled like madmen; the guards had gone upstairs; +discipline was out, panic in. No, the chief kept his chair, unchanged, calm as +ever—except the gavel, weaponless. Vainly with his clangor he filled the +lulls in the din. Ben-Hur gave him a last look, then broke away—not in +flight, but to seek the tribune. +</p> + +<p> +A very short space lay between him and the stairs of the hatchway aft. He took +it with a leap, and was half-way up the steps—up far enough to catch a +glimpse of the sky blood-red with fire, of the ships alongside, of the sea +covered with ships and wrecks, of the fight closed in about the pilot’s +quarter, the assailants many, the defenders few—when suddenly his +foothold was knocked away, and he pitched backward. The floor, when he reached +it, seemed to be lifting itself and breaking to pieces; then, in a twinkling, +the whole after-part of the hull broke asunder, and, as if it had all the time +been lying in wait, the sea, hissing and foaming, leaped in, and all became +darkness and surging water to Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +It cannot be said that the young Jew helped himself in this stress. Besides his +usual strength, he had the indefinite extra force which nature keeps in reserve +for just such perils to life; yet the darkness, and the whirl and roar of +water, stupefied him. Even the holding his breath was involuntary. +</p> + +<p> +The influx of the flood tossed him like a log forward into the cabin, where he +would have drowned but for the refluence of the sinking motion. As it was, +fathoms under the surface the hollow mass vomited him forth, and he arose along +with the loosed debris. In the act of rising, he clutched something, and held +to it. The time he was under seemed an age longer than it really was; at last +he gained the top; with a great gasp he filled his lungs afresh, and, tossing +the water from his hair and eyes, climbed higher upon the plank he held, and +looked about him. +</p> + +<p> +Death had pursued him closely under the waves; he found it waiting for him when +he was risen—waiting multiform. +</p> + +<p> +Smoke lay upon the sea like a semitransparent fog, through which here and there +shone cores of intense brilliance. A quick intelligence told him that they were +ships on fire. The battle was yet on; nor could he say who was victor. Within +the radius of his vision now and then ships passed, shooting shadows athwart +lights. Out of the dun clouds farther on he caught the crash of other ships +colliding. The danger, however, was closer at hand. When the Astroea went down, +her deck, it will be recollected, held her own crew, and the crews of the two +galleys which had attacked her at the same time, all of whom were ingulfed. +Many of them came to the surface together, and on the same plank or support of +whatever kind continued the combat, begun possibly in the vortex fathoms down. +Writhing and twisting in deadly embrace, sometimes striking with sword or +javelin, they kept the sea around them in agitation, at one place inky-black, +at another aflame with fiery reflections. With their struggles he had nothing +to do; they were all his enemies: not one of them but would kill him for the +plank upon which he floated. He made haste to get away. +</p> + +<p> +About that time he heard oars in quickest movement, and beheld a galley coming +down upon him. The tall prow seemed doubly tall, and the red light playing upon +its gilt and carving gave it an appearance of snaky life. Under its foot the +water churned to flying foam. +</p> + +<p> +He struck out, pushing the plank, which was very broad and unmanageable. +Seconds were precious—half a second might save or lose him. In the crisis +of the effort, up from the sea, within arm’s reach, a helmet shot like a +gleam of gold. Next came two hands with fingers extended—large hands were +they, and strong—their hold once fixed, might not be loosed. Ben-Hur +swerved from them appalled. Up rose the helmet and the head it +encased—then two arms, which began to beat the water wildly—the +head turned back, and gave the face to the light. The mouth gaping wide; the +eyes open, but sightless, and the bloodless pallor of a drowning +man—never anything more ghastly! Yet he gave a cry of joy at the sight, +and as the face was going under again, he caught the sufferer by the chain +which passed from the helmet beneath the chin, and drew him to the plank. +</p> + +<p> +The man was Arrius, the tribune. +</p> + +<p> +For a while the water foamed and eddied violently about Ben-Hur, taxing all his +strength to hold to the support and at the same time keep the Roman’s +head above the surface. The galley had passed, leaving the two barely outside +the stroke of its oars. Right through the floating men, over heads helmeted as +well as heads bare, she drove, in her wake nothing but the sea sparkling with +fire. A muffled crash, succeeded by a great outcry, made the rescuer look again +from his charge. A certain savage pleasure touched his heart—the Astroea +was avenged. +</p> + +<p> +After that the battle moved on. Resistance turned to flight. But who were the +victors? Ben-Hur was sensible how much his freedom and the life of the tribune +depended upon that event. He pushed the plank under the latter until it floated +him, after which all his care was to keep him there. The dawn came slowly. He +watched its growing hopefully, yet sometimes afraid. Would it bring the Romans +or the pirates? If the pirates, his charge was lost. +</p> + +<p> +At last morning broke in full, the air without a breath. Off to the left he saw +the land, too far to think of attempting to make it. Here and there men were +adrift like himself. In spots the sea was blackened by charred and sometimes +smoking fragments. A galley up a long way was lying to with a torn sail hanging +from the tilted yard, and the oars all idle. Still farther away he could +discern moving specks, which he thought might be ships in flight or pursuit, or +they might be white birds a-wing. +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed thus. His anxiety increased. If relief came not speedily, Arrius +would die. Sometimes he seemed already dead, he lay so still. He took the +helmet off, and then, with greater difficulty, the cuirass; the heart he found +fluttering. He took hope at the sign, and held on. There was nothing to do but +wait, and, after the manner of his people, pray. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +The throes of recovery from drowning are more painful than the drowning. These +Arrius passed through, and, at length, to Ben-Hur’s delight, reached the +point of speech. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually, from incoherent questions as to where he was, and by whom and how he +had been saved, he reverted to the battle. The doubt of the victory stimulated +his faculties to full return, a result aided not a little by a long +rest—such as could be had on their frail support. After a while he became +talkative. +</p> + +<p> +“Our rescue, I see, depends upon the result of the fight. I see also what +thou hast done for me. To speak fairly, thou hast saved my life at the risk of +thy own. I make the acknowledgment broadly; and, whatever cometh, thou hast my +thanks. More than that, if fortune doth but serve me kindly, and we get well +out of this peril, I will do thee such favor as becometh a Roman who hath power +and opportunity to prove his gratitude. Yet, yet it is to be seen if, with thy +good intent, thou hast really done me a kindness; or, rather, speaking to thy +good-will”—he hesitated—“I would exact of thee a +promise to do me, in a certain event, the greatest favor one man can do +another—and of that let me have thy pledge now.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the thing be not forbidden, I will do it,” Ben-Hur replied. +</p> + +<p> +Arrius rested again. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou, indeed, a son of Hur, the Jew?” he next asked. +</p> + +<p> +“It is as I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew thy father—” +</p> + +<p> +Judah drew himself nearer, for the tribune’s voice was weak—he drew +nearer, and listened eagerly—at last he thought to hear of home. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew him, and loved him,” Arrius continued. +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause, during which something diverted the speaker’s +thought. +</p> + +<p> +“It cannot be,” he proceeded, “that thou, a son of his, hast +not heard of Cato and Brutus. They were very great men, and never as great as +in death. In their dying, they left this law—A Roman may not survive his +good-fortune. Art thou listening?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a custom of gentlemen in Rome to wear a ring. There is one on my +hand. Take it now.” +</p> + +<p> +He held the hand to Judah, who did as he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Now put it on thine own hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur did so. +</p> + +<p> +“The trinket hath its uses,” said Arrius next. “I have +property and money. I am accounted rich even in Rome. I have no family. Show +the ring to my freedman, who hath control in my absence; you will find him in a +villa near Misenum. Tell him how it came to thee, and ask anything, or all he +may have; he will not refuse the demand. If I live, I will do better by thee. I +will make thee free, and restore thee to thy home and people; or thou mayst +give thyself to the pursuit that pleaseth thee most. Dost thou hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could not choose but hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then pledge me. By the gods—” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, good tribune, I am a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“By thy God, then, or in the form most sacred to those of thy +faith—pledge me to do what I tell thee now, and as I tell thee; I am +waiting, let me have thy promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Noble Arrius, I am warned by thy manner to expect something of gravest +concern. Tell me thy wish first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wilt thou promise then?” +</p> + +<p> +“That were to give the pledge, and— Blessed be the God of my +fathers! yonder cometh a ship!” +</p> + +<p> +“In what direction?” +</p> + +<p> +“From the north.” +</p> + +<p> +“Canst thou tell her nationality by outward signs?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. My service hath been at the oars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hath she a flag?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot see one.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius remained quiet some time, apparently in deep reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“Does the ship hold this way yet?” he at length asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Still this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look for the flag now.” +</p> + +<p> +“She hath none.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor any other sign?” +</p> + +<p> +“She hath a sail set, and is of three banks, and cometh +swiftly—that is all I can say of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“A Roman in triumph would have out many flags. She must be an enemy. Hear +now,” said Arrius, becoming grave again, “hear, while yet I may +speak. If the galley be a pirate, thy life is safe; they may not give thee +freedom; they may put thee to the oar again; but they will not kill thee. On +the other hand, I—” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“Perpol!” he continued, resolutely. “I am too old to submit +to dishonor. In Rome, let them tell how Quintus Arrius, as became a Roman +tribune, went down with his ship in the midst of the foe. This is what I would +have thee do. If the galley prove a pirate, push me from the plank and drown +me. Dost thou hear? Swear thou wilt do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not swear,” said Ben-Hur, firmly; “neither will I do +the deed. The Law, which is to me most binding, O tribune, would make me +answerable for thy life. Take back the ring”—he took the seal from +his finger—“take it back, and all thy promises of favor in the +event of delivery from this peril. The judgment which sent me to the oar for +life made me a slave, yet I am not a slave; no more am I thy freedman. I am a +son of Israel, and this moment, at least, my own master. Take back the +ring.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrius remained passive. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou wilt not?” Judah continued. “Not in anger, then, nor in +any despite, but to free myself from a hateful obligation, I will give thy gift +to the sea. See, O tribune!” +</p> + +<p> +He tossed the ring away. Arrius heard the splash where it struck and sank, +though he did not look. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast done a foolish thing,” he said; “foolish for one +placed as thou art. I am not dependent upon thee for death. Life is a thread I +can break without thy help; and, if I do, what will become of thee? Men +determined on death prefer it at the hands of others, for the reason that the +soul which Plato giveth us is rebellious at the thought of self-destruction; +that is all. If the ship be a pirate, I will escape from the world. My mind is +fixed. I am a Roman. Success and honor are all in all. Yet I would have served +thee; thou wouldst not. The ring was the only witness of my will available in +this situation. We are both lost. I will die regretting the victory and glory +wrested from me; thou wilt live to die a little later, mourning the pious +duties undone because of this folly. I pity thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur saw the consequences of his act more distinctly than before, yet he did +not falter. +</p> + +<p> +“In the three years of my servitude, O tribune, thou wert the first to +look upon me kindly. No, no! There was another.” The voice dropped, the +eyes became humid, and he saw plainly as if it were then before him the face of +the boy who helped him to a drink by the old well at Nazareth. “At +least,” he proceeded, “thou wert the first to ask me who I was; and +if, when I reached out and caught thee, blind and sinking the last time, I, +too, had thought of the many ways in which thou couldst be useful to me in my +wretchedness, still the act was not all selfish; this I pray you to believe. +Moreover, seeing as God giveth me to know, the ends I dream of are to be +wrought by fair means alone. As a thing of conscience, I would rather die with +thee than be thy slayer. My mind is firmly set as thine; though thou wert to +offer me all Rome, O tribune, and it belonged to thee to make the gift good, I +would not kill thee. Thy Cato and Brutus were as little children compared to +the Hebrew whose law a Jew must obey.” +</p> + +<p> +“But my request. Hast—” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy command would be of more weight, and that would not move me. I have +said.” +</p> + +<p> +Both became silent, waiting. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked often at the coming ship. Arrius rested with closed eyes, +indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou sure she is an enemy?” Ben-Hur asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +“She stops, and puts a boat over the side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou see her flag?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no other sign by which she may be known if Roman?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Roman, she hath a helmet over the mast’s top.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then be of cheer. I see the helmet.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Arrius was not assured. +</p> + +<p> +“The men in the small boat are taking in the people afloat. Pirates are +not humane.” +</p> + +<p> +“They may need rowers,” Arrius replied, recurring, possibly, to +times when he had made rescues for the purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was very watchful of the actions of the strangers. +</p> + +<p> +“The ship moves off,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither?” +</p> + +<p> +“Over on our right there is a galley which I take to be deserted. The +new-comer heads towards it. Now she is alongside. Now she is sending men +aboard.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Arrius opened his eyes and threw off his calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank thou thy God,” he said to Ben-Hur, after a look at the +galleys, “thank thou thy God, as I do my many gods. A pirate would sink, +not save, yon ship. By the act and the helmet on the mast I know a Roman. The +victory is mine. Fortune hath not deserted me. We are saved. Wave thy +hand—call to them—bring them quickly. I shall be duumvir, and thou! +I knew thy father, and loved him. He was a prince indeed. He taught me a Jew +was not a barbarian. I will take thee with me. I will make thee my son. Give +thy God thanks, and call the sailors. Haste! The pursuit must be kept. Not a +robber shall escape. Hasten them!” +</p> + +<p> +Judah raised himself upon the plank, and waved his hand, and called with all +his might; at last he drew the attention of the sailors in the small boat, and +they were speedily taken up. +</p> + +<p> +Arrius was received on the galley with all the honors due a hero so the +favorite of Fortune. Upon a couch on the deck he heard the particulars of the +conclusion of the fight. When the survivors afloat upon the water were all +saved and the prize secured, he spread his flag of commandant anew, and hurried +northward to rejoin the fleet and perfect the victory. In due time the fifty +vessels coming down the channel closed in upon the fugitive pirates, and +crushed them utterly; not one escaped. To swell the tribune’s glory, +twenty galleys of the enemy were captured. +</p> + +<p> +Upon his return from the cruise, Arrius had warm welcome on the mole at +Misenum. The young man attending him very early attracted the attention of his +friends there; and to their questions as to who he was the tribune proceeded in +the most affectionate manner to tell the story of his rescue and introduce the +stranger, omitting carefully all that pertained to the latter’s previous +history. At the end of the narrative, he called Ben-Hur to him, and said, with +a hand resting affectionately upon his shoulder, +</p> + +<p> +“Good friends, this is my son and heir, who, as he is to take my +property—if it be the will of the gods that I leave any—shall be +known to you by my name. I pray you all to love him as you love me.” +</p> + +<p> +Speedily as opportunity permitted, the adoption was formally perfected. And in +such manner the brave Roman kept his faith with Ben-Hur, giving him happy +introduction into the imperial world. The month succeeding Arrius’s +return, the armilustrium was celebrated with the utmost magnificence in the +theater of Scaurus. One side of the structure was taken up with military +trophies; among which by far the most conspicuous and most admired were twenty +prows, complemented by their corresponding aplustra, cut bodily from as many +galleys; and over them, so as to be legible to the eighty thousand spectators +in the seats, was this inscription: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +T<small>AKEN FROM THE</small> P<small>IRATES IN THE</small> G<small>ULF +OF</small> E<small>URIPUS</small>,<br> +<small>BY</small><br> +<span class="big"><span class="big">QUINTUS ARRIUS,</span></span><br> +D<small>UUMVIR</small>.<br> +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book04"></a>BOOK FOURTH</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Alva. Should the monarch prove unjust—<br> +And, at this time—<br> +<br> +Queen. Then I must wait for justice<br> +Until it come; and they are happiest far<br> +Whose consciences may calmly wait their right.”<br> + Schiller, Don Carlos (act iv., sc. xv.) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +The month to which we now come is July, the year that of our Lord 29, and the +place Antioch, then Queen of the East, and next to Rome the strongest, if not +the most populous, city in the world. +</p> + +<p> +There is an opinion that the extravagance and dissoluteness of the age had +their origin in Rome, and spread thence throughout the empire; that the great +cities but reflected the manners of their mistress on the Tiber. This may be +doubted. The reaction of the conquest would seem to have been upon the morals +of the conqueror. In Greece she found a spring of corruption; so also in Egypt; +and the student, having exhausted the subject, will close the books assured +that the flow of the demoralizing river was from the East westwardly, and that +this very city of Antioch, one of the oldest seats of Assyrian power and +splendor, was a principal source of the deadly stream. +</p> + +<p> +A transport galley entered the mouth of the river Orontes from the blue waters +of the sea. It was in the forenoon. The heat was great, yet all on board who +could avail themselves of the privilege were on deck—Ben-Hur among +others. +</p> + +<p> +The five years had brought the young Jew to perfect manhood. Though the robe of +white linen in which he was attired somewhat masked his form, his appearance +was unusually attractive. For an hour and more he had occupied a seat in the +shade of the sail, and in that time several fellow-passengers of his own +nationality had tried to engage him in conversation, but without avail. His +replies to their questions had been brief, though gravely courteous, and in the +Latin tongue. The purity of his speech, his cultivated manners, his reticence, +served to stimulate their curiosity the more. Such as observed him closely were +struck by an incongruity between his demeanor, which had the ease and grace of +a patrician, and certain points of his person. Thus his arms were +disproportionately long; and when, to steady himself against the motion of the +vessel, he took hold of anything near by, the size of his hands and their +evident power compelled remark; so the wonder who and what he was mixed +continually with a wish to know the particulars of his life. In other words, +his air cannot be better described than as a notice—This man has a story +to tell. +</p> + +<p> +The galley, in coming, had stopped at one of the ports of Cyprus, and picked up +a Hebrew of most respectable appearance, quiet, reserved, paternal. Ben-Hur +ventured to ask him some questions; the replies won his confidence, and +resulted finally in an extended conversation. +</p> + +<p> +It chanced also that as the galley from Cyprus entered the receiving bay of the +Orontes, two other vessels which had been sighted out in the sea met it and +passed into the river at the same time; and as they did so both the strangers +threw out small flags of brightest yellow. There was much conjecture as to the +meaning of the signals. At length a passenger addressed himself to the +respectable Hebrew for information upon the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know the meaning of the flags,” he replied; “they do +not signify nationality—they are merely marks of ownership.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has the owner many ships?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have dealt with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The passengers looked at the speaker as if requesting him to go on. Ben-Hur +listened with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“He lives in Antioch,” the Hebrew continued, in his quiet way. +“That he is vastly rich has brought him into notice, and the talk about +him is not always kind. There used to be in Jerusalem a prince of very ancient +family named Hur.” +</p> + +<p> +Judah strove to be composed, yet his heart beat quicker. +</p> + +<p> +“The prince was a merchant, with a genius for business. He set on foot +many enterprises, some reaching far East, others West. In the great cities he +had branch houses. The one in Antioch was in charge of a man said by some to +have been a family servant called Simonides, Greek in name, yet an Israelite. +The master was drowned at sea. His business, however, went on, and was scarcely +less prosperous. After a while misfortune overtook the family. The +prince’s only son, nearly grown, tried to kill the procurator Gratus in +one of the streets of Jerusalem. He failed by a narrow chance, and has not +since been heard of. In fact, the Roman’s rage took in the whole +house—not one of the name was left alive. Their palace was sealed up, and +is now a rookery for pigeons; the estate was confiscated; everything that could +be traced to the ownership of the Hurs was confiscated. The procurator cured +his hurt with a golden salve.” +</p> + +<p> +The passengers laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean he kept the property,” said one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“They say so,” the Hebrew replied; “I am only telling a story +as I received it. And, to go on, Simonides, who had been the prince’s +agent here in Antioch, opened trade in a short time on his own account, and in +a space incredibly brief became the master merchant of the city. In imitation +of his master, he sent caravans to India; and on the sea at present he has +galleys enough to make a royal fleet. They say nothing goes amiss with him. His +camels do not die, except of old age; his ships never founder; if he throw a +chip into the river, it will come back to him gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long has he been going on thus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not ten years.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must have had a good start.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they say the procurator took only the prince’s property ready +at hand—his horses, cattle, houses, land, vessels, goods. The money could +not be found, though there must have been vast sums of it. What became of it +has been an unsolved mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to me,” said a passenger, with a sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand you,” the Hebrew answered. “Others have had +your idea. That it furnished old Simonides his start is a common belief. The +procurator is of that opinion—or he has been—for twice in five +years he has caught the merchant, and put him to torture.” +</p> + +<p> +Judah gripped the rope he was holding with crushing force. +</p> + +<p> +“It is said,” the narrator continued, “that there is not a +sound bone in the man’s body. The last time I saw him he sat in a chair, +a shapeless cripple, propped against cushions.” +</p> + +<p> +“So tortured!” exclaimed several listeners in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Disease could not have produced such a deformity. Still the suffering +made no impression upon him. All he had was his lawfully, and he was making +lawful use of it—that was the most they wrung from him. Now, however, he +is past persecution. He has a license to trade signed by Tiberius +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“He paid roundly for it, I warrant.” +</p> + +<p> +“These ships are his,” the Hebrew continued, passing the remark. +“It is a custom among his sailors to salute each other upon meeting by +throwing out yellow flags, sight of which is as much as to say, ‘We have +had a fortunate voyage.’” +</p> + +<p> +The story ended there. +</p> + +<p> +When the transport was fairly in the channel of the river, Judah spoke to the +Hebrew. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the name of the merchant’s master?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ben-Hur, Prince of Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +“What became of the prince’s family?” +</p> + +<p> +“The boy was sent to the galleys. I may say he is dead. One year is the +ordinary limit of life under that sentence. The widow and daughter have not +been heard of; those who know what became of them will not speak. They died +doubtless in the cells of one of the castles which spot the waysides of +Judea.” +</p> + +<p> +Judah walked to the pilot’s quarter. So absorbed was he in thought that +he scarcely noticed the shores of the river, which from sea to city were +surpassingly beautiful with orchards of all the Syrian fruits and vines, +clustered about villas rich as those of Neapolis. No more did he observe the +vessels passing in an endless fleet, nor hear the singing and shouting of the +sailors, some in labor, some in merriment. The sky was full of sunlight, lying +in hazy warmth upon the land and the water; nowhere except over his life was +there a shadow. +</p> + +<p> +Once only he awoke to a momentary interest, and that was when some one pointed +out the Grove of Daphne, discernible from a bend in the river. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +When the city came into view, the passengers were on deck, eager that nothing +of the scene might escape them. The respectable Jew already introduced to the +reader was the principal spokesman. +</p> + +<p> +“The river here runs to the west,” he said, in the way of general +answer. “I remember when it washed the base of the walls; but as Roman +subjects we have lived in peace, and, as always happens in such times, trade +has had its will; now the whole river front is taken up with wharves and docks. +Yonder”—the speaker pointed southward—“is Mount Casius, +or, as these people love to call it, the Mountains of Orontes, looking across +to its brother Amnus in the north; and between them lies the Plain of Antioch. +Farther on are the Black Mountains, whence the Ducts of the Kings bring the +purest water to wash the thirsty streets and people; yet they are forests in +wilderness state, dense, and full of birds and beasts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the lake?” one asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Over north there. You can take horse, if you wish to see it—or, +better, a boat, for a tributary connects it with the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Grove of Daphne!” he said, to a third inquirer. “Nobody +can describe it; only beware! It was begun by Apollo, and completed by him. He +prefers it to Olympus. People go there for one look—just one—and +never come away. They have a saying which tells it all—‘Better be a +worm and feed on the mulberries of Daphne than a king’s +guest.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you advise me to stay away from it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I! Go you will. Everybody goes, cynic philosopher, virile boy, +women, and priests—all go. So sure am I of what you will do that I assume +to advise you. Do not take quarters in the city—that will be loss of +time; but go at once to the village in the edge of the grove. The way is +through a garden, under the spray of fountains. The lovers of the god and his +Penaean maid built the town; and in its porticos and paths and thousand +retreats you will find characters and habits and sweets and kinds elsewhere +impossible. But the wall of the city! there it is, the masterpiece of Xeraeus, +the master of mural architecture.” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes followed his pointing finger. +</p> + +<p> +“This part was raised by order of the first of the Seleucidæ. Three +hundred years have made it part of the rock it rests upon.” +</p> + +<p> +The defense justified the encomium. High, solid, and with many bold angles, it +curved southwardly out of view. +</p> + +<p> +“On the top there are four hundred towers, each a reservoir of +water,” the Hebrew continued. “Look now! Over the wall, tall as it +is, see in the distance two hills, which you may know as the rival crests of +Sulpius. The structure on the farthest one is the citadel, garrisoned all the +year round by a Roman legion. Opposite it this way rises the Temple of Jupiter, +and under that the front of the legate’s residence—a palace full of +offices, and yet a fortress against which a mob would dash harmlessly as a +south wind.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point the sailors began taking in sail, whereupon the Hebrew exclaimed, +heartily, “See! you who hate the sea, and you who have vows, get ready +your curses and your prayers. The bridge yonder, over which the road to +Seleucia is carried, marks the limit of navigation. What the ship unloads for +further transit, the camel takes up there. Above the bridge begins the island +upon which Calinicus built his new city, connecting it with five great viaducts +so solid time has made no impression upon them, nor floods nor earthquakes. Of +the main town, my friends, I have only to say you will be happier all your +lives for having seen it.” +</p> + +<p> +As he concluded, the ship turned and made slowly for her wharf under the wall, +bringing even more fairly to view the life with which the river at that point +was possessed. Finally, the lines were thrown, the oars shipped, and the voyage +was done. Then Ben-Hur sought the respectable Hebrew. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me trouble you a moment before saying farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +The man bowed assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Your story of the merchant has made me curious to see him. You called +him Simonides?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He is a Jew with a Greek name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he to be found?” +</p> + +<p> +The acquaintance gave a sharp look before he answered, +</p> + +<p> +“I may save you mortification. He is not a money-lender.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor am I a money-borrower,” said Ben-Hur, smiling at the +other’s shrewdness. +</p> + +<p> +The man raised his head and considered an instant. +</p> + +<p> +“One would think,” he then replied, “that the richest +merchant in Antioch would have a house for business corresponding to his +wealth; but if you would find him in the day, follow the river to yon bridge, +under which he quarters in a building that looks like a buttress of the wall. +Before the door there is an immense landing, always covered with cargoes come +and to go. The fleet that lies moored there is his. You cannot fail to find +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give you thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +“The peace of our fathers go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with you.” +</p> + +<p> +With that they separated. +</p> + +<p> +Two street-porters, loaded with his baggage, received Ben-Hur’s orders +upon the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +“To the citadel,” he said; a direction which implied an official +military connection. +</p> + +<p> +Two great streets, cutting each other at right angles, divided the city into +quarters. A curious and immense structure, called the Nymphaeum, arose at the +foot of the one running north and south. When the porters turned south there, +the new-comer, though fresh from Rome, was amazed at the magnificence of the +avenue. On the right and left there were palaces, and between them extended +indefinitely double colonnades of marble, leaving separate ways for footmen, +beasts, and chariots; the whole under shade, and cooled by fountains of +incessant flow. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was not in mood to enjoy the spectacle. The story of Simonides haunted +him. Arrived at the Omphalus—a monument of four arches wide as the +streets, superbly illustrated, and erected to himself by Epiphanes, the eighth +of the Seleucidæ—he suddenly changed his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not go to the citadel to-night,” he said to the porters. +“Take me to the khan nearest the bridge on the road to Seleucia.” +</p> + +<p> +The party faced about, and in good time he was deposited in a public house of +primitive but ample construction, within stone’s-throw of the bridge +under which old Simonides had his quarters. He lay upon the house-top through +the night. In his inner mind lived the thought, “Now—now I will +hear of home—and mother—and the dear little Tirzah. If they are on +earth, I will find them.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +Next day early, to the neglect of the city, Ben-Hur sought the house of +Simonides. Through an embattled gateway he passed to a continuity of wharves; +thence up the river midst a busy press, to the Seleucian Bridge, under which he +paused to take in the scene. +</p> + +<p> +There, directly under the bridge, was the merchant’s house, a mass of +gray stone, unhewn, referable to no style, looking, as the voyager had +described it, like a buttress of the wall against which it leaned. Two immense +doors in front communicated with the wharf. Some holes near the top, heavily +barred, served as windows. Weeds waved from the crevices, and in places black +moss splotched the otherwise bald stones. +</p> + +<p> +The doors were open. Through one of them business went in; through the other it +came out; and there was hurry, hurry in all its movements. +</p> + +<p> +On the wharf there were piles of goods in every kind of package, and groups of +slaves, stripped to the waist, going about in the abandon of labor. +</p> + +<p> +Below the bridge lay a fleet of galleys, some loading, others unloading. A +yellow flag blew out from each masthead. From fleet and wharf, and from ship to +ship, the bondmen of traffic passed in clamorous counter-currents. +</p> + +<p> +Above the bridge, across the river, a wall rose from the water’s edge, +over which towered the fanciful cornices and turrets of an imperial palace, +covering every foot of the island spoken of in the Hebrew’s description. +But, with all its suggestions, Ben-Hur scarcely noticed it. Now, at last, he +thought to hear of his people—this, certainly, if Simonides had indeed +been his father’s slave. But would the man acknowledge the relation? That +would be to give up his riches and the sovereignty of trade so royally +witnessed on the wharf and river. And what was of still greater consequence to +the merchant, it would be to forego his career in the midst of amazing success, +and yield himself voluntarily once more a slave. Simple thought of the demand +seemed a monstrous audacity. Stripped of diplomatic address, it was to say, You +are my slave; give me all you have, and—yourself. +</p> + +<p> +Yet Ben-Hur derived strength for the interview from faith in his rights and the +hope uppermost in his heart. If the story to which he was yielding were true, +Simonides belonged to him, with all he had. For the wealth, be it said in +justice, he cared nothing. When he started to the door determined in mind, it +was with a promise to himself—“Let him tell me of mother and +Tirzah, and I will give him his freedom without account.” +</p> + +<p> +He passed boldly into the house. +</p> + +<p> +The interior was that of a vast depot where, in ordered spaces, and under +careful arrangement, goods of every kind were heaped and pent. Though the light +was murky and the air stifling, men moved about briskly; and in places he saw +workmen with saws and hammers making packages for shipments. Down a path +between the piles he walked slowly, wondering if the man of whose genius there +were here such abounding proofs could have been his father’s slave? If +so, to what class had he belonged? If a Jew, was he the son of a servant? Or +was he a debtor or a debtor’s son? Or had he been sentenced and sold for +theft? These thoughts, as they passed, in nowise disturbed the growing respect +for the merchant of which he was each instant more and more conscious. A +peculiarity of our admiration for another is that it is always looking for +circumstances to justify itself. +</p> + +<p> +At length a man approached and spoke to him. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would see Simonides, the merchant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come this way?” +</p> + +<p> +By a number of paths left in the stowage, they finally came to a flight of +steps; ascending which, he found himself on the roof of the depot, and in front +of a structure which cannot be better described than as a lesser stone house +built upon another, invisible from the landing below, and out west of the +bridge under the open sky. The roof, hemmed in by a low wall, seemed like a +terrace, which, to his astonishment, was brilliant with flowers; in the rich +surrounding, the house sat squat, a plain square block, unbroken except by a +doorway in front. A dustless path led to the door, through a bordering of +shrubs of Persian rose in perfect bloom. Breathing a sweet attar-perfume, he +followed the guide. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of a darkened passage within, they stopped before a curtain half +parted. The man called out, +</p> + +<p> +“A stranger to see the master.” +</p> + +<p> +A clear voice replied, “In God’s name, let him enter.” +</p> + +<p> +A Roman might have called the apartment into which the visitor was ushered his +atrium. The walls were paneled; each panel was comparted like a modern +office-desk, and each compartment crowded with labelled folios all filemot with +age and use. Between the panels, and above and below them, were borders of wood +once white, now tinted like cream, and carved with marvellous intricacy of +design. Above a cornice of gilded balls, the ceiling rose in pavilion style +until it broke into a shallow dome set with hundreds of panes of violet mica, +permitting a flood of light deliciously reposeful. The floor was carpeted with +gray rugs so thick that an invading foot fell half buried and soundless. +</p> + +<p> +In the midlight of the room were two persons—a man resting in a chair +high-backed, broad-armed, and lined with pliant cushions; and at his left, +leaning against the back of the chair, a girl well forward into womanhood. At +sight of them Ben-Hur felt the blood redden his forehead; bowing, as much to +recover himself as in respect, he lost the lifting of the hands, and the shiver +and shrink with which the sitter caught sight of him—an emotion as swift +to go as it had been to come. When he raised his eyes the two were in the same +position, except the girl’s hand had fallen and was resting lightly upon +the elder’s shoulder; both of them were regarding him fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are Simonides, the merchant, and a Jew”—Ben-Hur +stopped an instant—“then the peace of the God of our father Abraham +upon you and—yours.” +</p> + +<p> +The last word was addressed to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the Simonides of whom you speak, by birthright a Jew,” the +man made answer, in a voice singularly clear. “I am Simonides, and a Jew; +and I return you your salutation, with prayer to know who calls upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked as he listened, and where the figure of the man should have been +in healthful roundness, there was only a formless heap sunk in the depths of +the cushions, and covered by a quilted robe of sombre silk. Over the heap shone +a head royally proportioned—the ideal head of a statesman and +conqueror—a head broad of base and domelike in front, such as Angelo +would have modelled for Cæsar. White hair dropped in thin locks over the white +brows, deepening the blackness of the eyes shining through them like sullen +lights. The face was bloodless, and much puffed with folds, especially under +the chin. In other words, the head and face were those of a man who might move +the world more readily than the world could move him—a man to be twice +twelve times tortured into the shapeless cripple he was, without a groan, much +less a confession; a man to yield his life, but never a purpose or a point; a +man born in armor, and assailable only through his loves. To him Ben-Hur +stretched his hands, open and palm up, as he would offer peace at the same time +he asked it. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Judah, son of Ithamar, late head of the House of Hur, and a prince +of Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant’s right hand lay outside the robe—a long, thin hand, +articulate to deformity with suffering. It closed tightly; otherwise there was +not the slightest expression of feeling of any kind on his part; nothing to +warrant an inference of surprise or interest; nothing but this calm answer, +</p> + +<p> +“The princes of Jerusalem, of the pure blood, are always welcome in my +house; you are welcome. Give the young man a seat, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl took an ottoman near by, and carried it to Ben-Hur. As she arose from +placing the seat, their eyes met. +</p> + +<p> +“The peace of our Lord with you,” she said, modestly. “Be +seated and at rest.” +</p> + +<p> +When she resumed her place by the chair, she had not divined his purpose. The +powers of woman go not so far: if the matter is of finer feeling, such as pity, +mercy, sympathy, that she detects; and therein is a difference between her and +man which will endure as long as she remains, by nature, alive to such +feelings. She was simply sure he brought some wound of life for healing. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur did not take the offered seat, but said, deferentially, “I pray +the good master Simonides that he will not hold me an intruder. Coming up the +river yesterday, I heard he knew my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew the Prince Hur. We were associated in some enterprises lawful to +merchants who find profit in lands beyond the sea and the desert. But sit, I +pray you—and, Esther, some wine for the young man. Nehemiah speaks of a +son of Hur who once ruled the half part of Jerusalem; an old house; very old, +by the faith! In the days of Moses and Joshua even some of them found favor in +the sight of the Lord, and divided honors with those princes among men. It can +hardly be that their descendant, lineally come to us, will refuse a cup of +wine-fat of the genuine vine of Sorek, grown on the south hill-sides of +Hebron.” +</p> + +<p> +By the time of the conclusion of this speech, Esther was before Ben-Hur with a +silver cup filled from a vase upon a table a little removed from the chair. She +offered the drink with downcast face. He touched her hand gently to put it +away. Again their eyes met; whereat he noticed that she was small, not nearly +to his shoulder in height; but very graceful, and fair and sweet of face, with +eyes black and inexpressibly soft. She is kind and pretty, he thought, and +looks as Tirzah would were she living. Poor Tirzah! Then he said aloud, +</p> + +<p> +“No, thy father—if he is thy father?”—he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Esther, the daughter of Simonides,” she said, with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, fair Esther, thy father, when he has heard my further speech, will +not think worse of me if yet I am slow to take his wine of famous extract; nor +less I hope not to lose grace in thy sight. Stand thou here with me a +moment!” +</p> + +<p> +Both of them, as in common cause, turned to the merchant. +“Simonides!” he said, firmly, “my father, at his death, had a +trusted servant of thy name, and it has been told me that thou art the +man!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden start of the wrenched limbs under the robe, and the thin +hand clenched. +</p> + +<p> +“Esther, Esther!” the man called, sternly; “here, not there, +as thou art thy mother’s child and mine—here, not there, I +say!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked once from father to visitor; then she replaced the cup upon the +table, and went dutifully to the chair. Her countenance sufficiently expressed +her wonder and alarm. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides lifted his left hand, and gave it into hers, lying lovingly upon his +shoulder, and said, dispassionately, “I have grown old in dealing with +men—old before my time. If he who told thee that whereof thou speakest +was a friend acquainted with my history, and spoke of it not harshly, he must +have persuaded thee that I could not be else than a man distrustful of my kind. +The God of Israel help him who, at the end of life, is constrained to +acknowledge so much! My loves are few, but they are. One of them is a soul +which”—he carried the hand holding his to his lips, in manner +unmistakable—“a soul which to this time has been unselfishly mine, +and such sweet comfort that, were it taken from me, I would die.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther’s head drooped until her cheek touched his. +</p> + +<p> +“The other love is but a memory; of which I will say further that, like a +benison of the Lord, it hath a compass to contain a whole family, if +only”—his voice lowered and trembled—“if only I knew +where they were.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s face suffused, and, advancing a step, he cried, impulsively, +“My mother and sister! Oh, it is of them you speak!” +</p> + +<p> +Esther, as if spoken to, raised her head; but Simonides returned to his calm, +and answered, coldly, “Hear me to the end. Because I am that I am, and +because of the loves of which I have spoken, before I make return to thy demand +touching my relations to the Prince Hur, and as something which of right should +come first, do thou show me proofs of who thou art. Is thy witness in writing? +Or cometh it in person?” +</p> + +<p> +The demand was plain, and the right of it indisputable. Ben-Hur blushed, +clasped his hands, stammered, and turned away at loss. Simonides pressed him. +</p> + +<p> +“The proofs, the proofs, I say! Set them before me—lay them in my +hands!” +</p> + +<p> +Yet Ben-Hur had no answer. He had not anticipated the requirement; and, now +that it was made, to him as never before came the awful fact that the three +years in the galley had carried away all the proofs of his identity; mother and +sister gone, he did not live in the knowledge of any human being. Many there +were acquainted with him, but that was all. Had Quintus Arrius been present, +what could he have said more than where he found him, and that he believed the +pretender to be the son of Hur? But, as will presently appear in full, the +brave Roman sailor was dead. Judah had felt the loneliness before; to the core +of life the sense struck him now. He stood, hands clasped, face averted, in +stupefaction. Simonides respected his suffering, and waited in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Master Simonides,” he said, at length, “I can only tell my +story; and I will not that unless you stay judgment so long, and with good-will +deign to hear me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak,” said Simonides, now, indeed, master of the +situation—“speak, and I will listen the more willingly that I have +not denied you to be the very person you claim yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur proceeded then, and told his life hurriedly, yet with the feeling which +is the source of all eloquence; but as we are familiar with it down to his +landing at Misenum, in company with Arrius, returned victorious from the +Ægean, at that point we will take up the words. +</p> + +<p> +“My benefactor was loved and trusted by the emperor, who heaped him with +honorable rewards. The merchants of the East contributed magnificent presents, +and he became doubly rich among the rich of Rome. May a Jew forget his +religion? or his birthplace, if it were the Holy Land of our fathers? The good +man adopted me his son by formal rites of law; and I strove to make him just +return: no child was ever more dutiful to father than I to him. He would have +had me a scholar; in art, philosophy, rhetoric, oratory, he would have +furnished me the most famous teacher. I declined his insistence, because I was +a Jew, and could not forget the Lord God, or the glory of the prophets, or the +city set on the hills by David and Solomon. Oh, ask you why I accepted any of +the benefactions of the Roman? I loved him; next place, I thought with his +help, array influences which would enable me one day to unseal the mystery +close-locking the fate of my mother and sister; and to these there was yet +another motive of which I shall not speak except to say it controlled me so far +that I devoted myself to arms, and the acquisition of everything deemed +essential to thorough knowledge of the art of war. In the palaestrae and +circuses of the city I toiled, and in the camps no less; and in all of them I +have a name, but not that of my fathers. The crowns I won—and on the +walls of the villa by Misenum there are many of them—all came to me as +the son of Arrius, the duumvir. In that relation only am I known among +Romans.... In steadfast pursuit of my secret aim, I left Rome for Antioch, +intending to accompany the Consul Maxentius in the campaign he is organizing +against the Parthians. Master of personal skill in all arms, I seek now the +higher knowledge pertaining to the conduct of bodies of men in the field. The +consul has admitted me one of his military family. But yesterday, as our ship +entered the Orontes, two other ships sailed in with us flying yellow flags. A +fellow-passenger and countryman from Cyprus explained that the vessels belonged +to Simonides, the master-merchant of Antioch; he told us, also, who the +merchant was; his marvellous success in commerce; of his fleets and caravans, +and their coming and going; and, not knowing I had interest in the theme beyond +my associate listeners, he said Simonides was a Jew, once the servant of the +Prince Hur; nor did he conceal the cruelties of Gratus, or the purpose of their +infliction.” +</p> + +<p> +At this allusion Simonides bowed his head, and, as if to help him conceal his +feelings and her own deep sympathy, the daughter hid her face on his neck. +Directly he raised his eyes, and said, in a clear voice, “I am +listening.” +</p> + +<p> +“O good Simonides!” Ben-Hur then said, advancing a step, his whole +soul seeking expression, “I see thou art not convinced, and that yet I +stand in the shadow of thy distrust.” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant held his features fixed as marble, and his tongue as still. +</p> + +<p> +“And not less clearly, I see the difficulties of my position,” +Ben-Hur continued. “All my Roman connection I can prove; I have only to +call upon the consul, now the guest of the governor of the city; but I cannot +prove the particulars of thy demand upon me. I cannot prove I am my +father’s son. They who could serve me in that—alas! they are dead +or lost.” +</p> + +<p> +He covered his face with his hands; whereupon Esther arose, and, taking the +rejected cup to him, said, “The wine is of the country we all so love. +Drink, I pray thee!” +</p> + +<p> +The voice was sweet as that of Rebekah offering drink at the well near Nahor +the city; he saw there were tears in her eyes, and he drank, saying, +“Daughter of Simonides, thy heart is full of goodness; and merciful art +thou to let the stranger share it with thy father. Be thou blessed of our God! +I thank thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he addressed himself to the merchant again: +</p> + +<p> +“As I have no proof that I am my father’s son, I will withdraw that +I demanded of thee, O Simonides, and go hence to trouble you no more; only let +me say I did not seek thy return to servitude nor account of thy fortune; in +any event, I would have said, as now I say, that all which is product of thy +labor and genius is thine; keep it in welcome. I have no need of any part +thereof. When the good Quintus, my second father, sailed on the voyage which +was his last, he left me his heir, princely rich. If, therefore, thou dost +think of me again, be it with remembrance of this question, which, as I do +swear by the prophets and Jehovah, thy God and mine, was the chief purpose of +my coming here: What dost thou know—what canst thou tell me—of my +mother and Tirzah, my sister—she who should be in beauty and grace even +as this one, thy sweetness of life, if not thy very life? Oh! what canst thou +tell me of them?” +</p> + +<p> +The tears ran down Esther’s cheeks; but the man was wilful: in a clear +voice, he replied, +</p> + +<p> +“I have said I knew the Prince Ben-Hur. I remember hearing of the +misfortune which overtook his family. I remember the bitterness with which I +heard it. He who wrought such misery to the widow of my friend is the same who, +in the same spirit, hath since wrought upon me. I will go further, and say to +you, I have made diligent quest concerning the family, but—I have nothing +to tell you of them. They are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur uttered a great groan. +</p> + +<p> +“Then—then it is another hope broken!” he said, struggling +with his feelings. “I am used to disappointments. I pray you pardon my +intrusion; and if I have occasioned you annoyance, forgive it because of my +sorrow. I have nothing now to live for but vengeance. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +At the curtain he turned, and said, simply, “I thank you both.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace go with you,” the merchant said. +</p> + +<p> +Esther could not speak for sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +And so he departed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +Scarcely was Ben-Hur gone, when Simonides seemed to wake as from sleep: his +countenance flushed; the sullen light of his eyes changed to brightness; and he +said, cheerily, +</p> + +<p> +“Esther, ring—quick!” +</p> + +<p> +She went to the table, and rang a service-bell. +</p> + +<p> +One of the panels in the wall swung back, exposing a doorway which gave +admittance to a man who passed round to the merchant’s front, and saluted +him with a half-salaam. +</p> + +<p> +“Malluch, here—nearer—to the chair,” the master said, +imperiously. “I have a mission which shall not fail though the sun +should. Hearken! A young man is now descending to the store-room—tall, +comely, and in the garb of Israel; follow him, his shadow not more faithful; +and every night send me report of where he is, what he does, and the company he +keeps; and if, without discovery, you overhear his conversations, report them +word for word, together with whatever will serve to expose him, his habits, +motives, life. Understand you? Go quickly! Stay, Malluch: if he leave the city, +go after him—and, mark you, Malluch, be as a friend. If he bespeak you, +tell him what you will to the occasion most suited, except that you are in my +service, of that, not a word. Haste—make haste!” +</p> + +<p> +The man saluted as before, and was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Then Simonides rubbed his wan hands together, and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the day, daughter?” he said, in the midst of the mood. +“What is the day? I wish to remember it for happiness come. See, and look +for it laughing, and laughing tell me, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +The merriment seemed unnatural to her; and, as if to entreat him from it, she +answered, sorrowfully, “Woe’s me, father, that I should ever forget +this day!” +</p> + +<p> +His hands fell down the instant, and his chin, dropping upon his breast, lost +itself in the muffling folds of flesh composing his lower face. +</p> + +<p> +“True, most true, my daughter!” he said, without looking up. +“This is the twentieth day of the fourth month. To-day, five years ago, +my Rachel, thy mother, fell down and died. They brought me home broken as thou +seest me, and we found her dead of grief. Oh, to me she was a cluster of +camphire in the vineyards of En-Gedi! I have gathered my myrrh with my spice. I +have eaten my honeycomb with my honey. We laid her away in a lonely +place—in a tomb cut in the mountain; no one near her. Yet in the darkness +she left me a little light, which the years have increased to a brightness of +morning.” He raised his hand and rested it upon his daughter’s +head. “Dear Lord, I thank thee that now in my Esther my lost Rachel +liveth again!” +</p> + +<p> +Directly he lifted his head, and said, as with a sudden thought, “Is it +not clear day outside?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was, when the young man came in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let Abimelech come and take me to the garden, where I can see the +river and the ships, and I will tell thee, dear Esther, why but now my mouth +filled with laughter, and my tongue with singing, and my spirit was like to a +roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.” +</p> + +<p> +In answer to the bell a servant came, and at her bidding pushed the chair, set +on little wheels for the purpose, out of the room to the roof of the lower +house, called by him his garden. Out through the roses, and by beds of lesser +flowers, all triumphs of careful attendance, but now unnoticed, he was rolled +to a position from which he could view the palace-tops over against him on the +island, the bridge in lessening perspective to the farther shore, and the river +below the bridge crowded with vessels, all swimming amidst the dancing +splendors of the early sun upon the rippling water. There the servant left him +with Esther. +</p> + +<p> +The much shouting of laborers, and their beating and pounding, did not disturb +him any more than the tramping of people on the bridge floor almost overhead, +being as familiar to his ear as the view before him to his eye, and therefore +unnoticeable, except as suggestions of profits in promise. +</p> + +<p> +Esther sat on the arm of the chair nursing his hand, and waiting his speech, +which came at length in the calm way, the mighty will having carried him back +to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“When the young man was speaking, Esther, I observed thee, and thought +thou wert won by him.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes fell as she replied, +</p> + +<p> +“Speak you of faith, father, I believed him.” +</p> + +<p> +“In thy eyes, then, he is the lost son of the Prince Hur?” +</p> + +<p> +“If he is not—” She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“And if he is not, Esther?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been thy handmaiden, father, since my mother answered the call of +the Lord God; by thy side I have heard and seen thee deal in wise ways with all +manner of men seeking profit, holy and unholy; and now I say, if indeed the +young man be not the prince he claims to be, then before me falsehood never +played so well the part of righteous truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the glory of Solomon, daughter, thou speakest earnestly. Dost thou +believe thy father his father’s servant?” +</p> + +<p> +“I understood him to ask of that as something he had but heard.” +</p> + +<p> +For a time Simonides’ gaze swam among his swimming ships, though they had +no place in his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thou art a good child, Esther, of genuine Jewish shrewdness, and +of years and strength to hear a sorrowful tale. Wherefore give me heed, and I +will tell you of myself, and of thy mother, and of many things pertaining to +the past not in thy knowledge or thy dreams—things withheld from the +persecuting Romans for a hope’s sake, and from thee that thy nature +should grow towards the Lord straight as the reed to the sun.... I was born in +a tomb in the valley of Hinnom, on the south side of Zion. My father and mother +were Hebrew bond-servants, tenders of the fig and olive trees growing, with +many vines, in the King’s Garden hard by Siloam; and in my boyhood I +helped them. They were of the class bound to serve forever. They sold me to the +Prince Hur, then, next to Herod the King, the richest man in Jerusalem. From +the garden he transferred me to his storehouse in Alexandria of Egypt, where I +came of age. I served him six years, and in the seventh, by the law of Moses, I +went free.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther clapped her hands lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, thou art not his father’s servant!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, daughter, hear. Now, in those days there were lawyers in the +cloisters of the Temple who disputed vehemently, saying the children of +servants bound forever took the condition of their parents; but the Prince Hur +was a man righteous in all things, and an interpreter of the law after the +straitest sect, though not of them. He said I was a Hebrew servant bought, in +the true meaning of the great lawgiver, and, by sealed writings, which I yet +have, he set me free.” +</p> + +<p> +“And my mother?” Esther asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou shalt hear all, Esther; be patient. Before I am through thou shalt +see it were easier for me to forget myself than thy mother.... At the end of my +service, I came up to Jerusalem to the Passover. My master entertained me. I +was in love with him already, and I prayed to be continued in his service. He +consented, and I served him yet another seven years, but as a hired son of +Israel. In his behalf I had charge of ventures on the sea by ships, and of +ventures on land by caravans eastward to Susa and Persepolis, and the lands of +silk beyond them. Perilous passages were they, my daughter; but the Lord +blessed all I undertook. I brought home vast gains for the prince, and richer +knowledge for myself, without which I could not have mastered the charges since +fallen to me.... One day I was a guest in his house in Jerusalem. A servant +entered with some sliced bread on a platter. She came to me first. It was then +I saw thy mother, and loved her, and took her away in my secret heart. After a +while a time came when I sought the prince to make her my wife. He told me she +was bond-servant forever; but if she wished, he would set her free that I might +be gratified. She gave me love for love, but was happy where she was, and +refused her freedom. I prayed and besought, going again and again after long +intervals. She would be my wife, she all the time said, if I would become her +fellow in servitude. Our father Jacob served yet other seven years for his +Rachel. Could I not as much for mine? But thy mother said I must become as she, +to serve forever. I came away, but went back. Look, Esther, look here.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled out the lobe of his left ear. +</p> + +<p> +“See you not the scar of the awl?” +</p> + +<p> +“I see it,” she said; “and, oh, I see how thou didst love my +mother!” +</p> + +<p> +“Love her, Esther! She was to me more than the Shulamite to the singing +king, fairer, more spotless; a fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, +and streams from Lebanon. The master, even as I required him, took me to the +judges, and back to his door, and thrust the awl through my ear into the door, +and I was his servant forever. So I won my Rachel. And was ever love like +mine?” +</p> + +<p> +Esther stooped and kissed him, and they were silent, thinking of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +“My master was drowned at sea, the first sorrow that ever fell upon +me,” the merchant continued. “There was mourning in his house, and +in mine here in Antioch, my abiding-place at the time. Now, Esther, mark you! +When the good prince was lost, I had risen to be his chief steward, with +everything of property belonging to him in my management and control. Judge you +how much he loved and trusted me! I hastened to Jerusalem to render account to +the widow. She continued me in the stewardship. I applied myself with greater +diligence. The business prospered, and grew year by year. Ten years passed; +then came the blow which you heard the young man tell about—the accident, +as he called it, to the Procurator Gratus. The Roman gave it out an attempt to +assassinate him. Under that pretext, by leave from Rome, he confiscated to his +own use the immense fortune of the widow and children. Nor stopped he there. +That there might be no reversal of the judgment, he removed all the parties +interested. From that dreadful day to this the family of Hur have been lost. +The son, whom I had seen as a child, was sentenced to the galleys. The widow +and daughter are supposed to have been buried in some of the many dungeons of +Judea, which, once closed upon the doomed, are like sepulchers sealed and +locked. They passed from the knowledge of men as utterly as if the sea had +swallowed them unseen. We could not hear how they died—nay, not even that +they were dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther’s eyes were dewy with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Thy heart is good, Esther, good as thy mother’s was; and I pray it +have not the fate of most good hearts—to be trampled upon by the +unmerciful and blind. But hearken further. I went up to Jerusalem to give help +to my benefactress, and was seized at the gate of the city and carried to the +sunken cells of the Tower of Antonia; why, I knew not, until Gratus himself +came and demanded of me the moneys of the House of Hur, which he knew, after +our Jewish custom of exchange, were subject to my draft in the different marts +of the world. He required me to sign to his order. I refused. He had the +houses, lands, goods, ships, and movable property of those I served; he had not +their moneys. I saw, if I kept favor in the sight of the Lord, I could rebuild +their broken fortunes. I refused the tyrant’s demands. He put me to +torture; my will held good, and he set me free, nothing gained. I came home and +began again, in the name of Simonides of Antioch, instead of the Prince Hur of +Jerusalem. Thou knowest, Esther, how I have prospered; that the increase of the +millions of the prince in my hands was miraculous; thou knowest how, at the end +of three years, while going up to Cæsarea, I was taken and a second time +tortured by Gratus to compel a confession that my goods and moneys were subject +to his order of confiscation; thou knowest he failed as before. Broken in body, +I came home and found my Rachel dead of fear and grief for me. The Lord our God +reigned, and I lived. From the emperor himself I bought immunity and license to +trade throughout the world. To-day—praised be He who maketh the clouds +his chariot and walketh upon the winds!—to-day, Esther, that which was in +my hands for stewardship is multiplied into talents sufficient to enrich a +Cæsar.” +</p> + +<p> +He lifted his head proudly; their eyes met; each read the other’s +thought. “What shall I with the treasure, Esther?” he asked, +without lowering his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“My father,” she answered, in a low voice, “did not the +rightful owner call for it but now?” +</p> + +<p> +Still his look did not fail. +</p> + +<p> +“And thou, my child; shall I leave thee a beggar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, father, am not I, because I am thy child, his bond-servant? And of +whom was it written, ‘Strength and honor are her clothing, and she shall +rejoice in time to come?’” +</p> + +<p> +A gleam of ineffable love lighted his face as he said, “The Lord hath +been good to me in many ways; but thou, Esther, art the sovereign excellence of +his favor.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew her to his breast and kissed her many times. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear now,” he said, with clearer voice—“hear now why I +laughed this morning. The young man faced me the apparition of his father in +comely youth. My spirit arose to salute him. I felt my trial-days were over and +my labors ended. Hardly could I keep from crying out. I longed to take him by +the hand and show the balance I had earned, and say, ‘Lo, ’tis all +thine! and I am thy servant, ready now to be called away.’ And so I would +have done, Esther, so I would have done, but that moment three thoughts rushed +to restrain me. I will be sure he is my master’s son—such was the +first thought; if he is my master’s son, I will learn somewhat of his +nature. Of those born to riches, bethink you, Esther, how many there are in +whose hands riches are but breeding curses”—he paused, while his +hands clutched, and his voice shrilled with passion—“Esther, +consider the pains I endured at the Roman’s hands; nay, not +Gratus’s alone: the merciless wretches who did his bidding the first time +and the last were Romans, and they all alike laughed to hear me scream. +Consider my broken body, and the years I have gone shorn of my stature; +consider thy mother yonder in her lonely tomb, crushed of soul as I of body; +consider the sorrows of my master’s family if they are living, and the +cruelty of their taking-off if they are dead; consider all, and, with +Heaven’s love about thee, tell me, daughter, shall not a hair fall or a +red drop run in expiation? Tell me not, as the preachers sometimes +do—tell me not that vengeance is the Lord’s. Does he not work his +will harmfully as well as in love by agencies? Has he not his men of war more +numerous than his prophets? Is not his the law, Eye for eye, hand for hand, +foot for foot? Oh, in all these years I have dreamed of vengeance, and prayed +and provided for it, and gathered patience from the growing of my store, +thinking and promising, as the Lord liveth, it will one day buy me punishment +of the wrong-doers? And when, speaking of his practise with arms, the young man +said it was for a nameless purpose, I named the purpose even as he +spoke—vengeance! and that, Esther, that it was—the third thought +which held me still and hard while his pleading lasted, and made me laugh when +he was gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther caressed the faded hands, and said, as if her spirit with his were +running forward to results, “He is gone. Will he come again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, Malluch the faithful goes with him, and will bring him back when I +am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when will that be, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not long, not long. He thinks all his witnesses dead. There is one +living who will not fail to know him, if he be indeed my master’s +son.” +</p> + +<p> +“His mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, daughter, I will set the witness before him; till then let us rest +the business with the Lord. I am tired. Call Abimelech.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther called the servant, and they returned into the house. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +When Ben-Hur sallied from the great warehouse, it was with the thought that +another failure was to be added to the many he had already met in the quest for +his people; and the idea was depressing exactly in proportion as the objects of +his quest were dear to him; it curtained him round about with a sense of utter +loneliness on earth, which, more than anything else, serves to eke from a soul +cast down its remaining interest in life. +</p> + +<p> +Through the people, and the piles of goods, he made way to the edge of the +landing, and was tempted by the cool shadows darkening the river’s depth. +The lazy current seemed to stop and wait for him. In counteraction of the +spell, the saying of the voyager flashed into memory—“Better be a +worm, and feed upon the mulberries of Daphne, than a king’s guest.” +He turned, and walked rapidly down the landing and back to the khan. +</p> + +<p> +“The road to Daphne!” the steward said, surprised at the question +Ben-Hur put to him. “You have not been here before? Well, count this the +happiest day of your life. You cannot mistake the road. The next street to the +left, going south, leads straight to Mount Sulpius, crowned by the altar of +Jupiter and the Amphitheater; keep it to the third cross street, known as +Herod’s Colonnade; turn to your right there, and hold the way through the +old city of Seleucus to the bronze gates of Epiphanes. There the road to Daphne +begins—and may the gods keep you!” +</p> + +<p> +A few directions respecting his baggage, and Ben-Hur set out. +</p> + +<p> +The Colonnade of Herod was easily found; thence to the brazen gates, under a +continuous marble portico, he passed with a multitude mixed of people from all +the trading nations of the earth. +</p> + +<p> +It was about the fourth hour of the day when he passed out the gate, and found +himself one of a procession apparently interminable, moving to the famous +Grove. The road was divided into separate ways for footmen, for men on horses, +and men in chariots; and those again into separate ways for outgoers and +incomers. The lines of division were guarded by low balustrading, broken by +massive pedestals, many of which were surmounted with statuary. Right and left +of the road extended margins of sward perfectly kept, relieved at intervals by +groups of oak and sycamore trees, and vine-clad summer-houses for the +accommodation of the weary, of whom, on the return side, there were always +multitudes. The ways of the footmen were paved with red stone, and those of the +riders strewn with white sand compactly rolled, but not so solid as to give +back an echo to hoof or wheel. The number and variety of fountains at play were +amazing, all gifts of visiting kings, and called after them. Out southwest to +the gates of the Grove, the magnificent thoroughfare stretched a little over +four miles from the city. +</p> + +<p> +In his wretchedness of feeling, Ben-Hur barely observed the royal liberality +which marked the construction of the road. Nor more did he at first notice the +crowd going with him. He treated the processional displays with like +indifference. To say truth, besides his self-absorption, he had not a little of +the complacency of a Roman visiting the provinces fresh from the ceremonies +which daily eddied round and round the golden pillar set up by Augustus as the +centre of the world. It was not possible for the provinces to offer anything +new or superior. He rather availed himself of every opportunity to push forward +through the companies in the way, and too slow-going for his impatience. By the +time he reached Heracleia, a suburban village intermediate the city and the +Grove, he was somewhat spent with exercise, and began to be susceptible of +entertainment. Once a pair of goats led by a beautiful woman, woman and goats +alike brilliant with ribbons and flowers, attracted his attention. Then he +stopped to look at a bull of mighty girth, and snowy white, covered with vines +freshly cut, and bearing on its broad back a naked child in a basket, the image +of a young Bacchus, squeezing the juice of ripened berries into a goblet, and +drinking with libational formulas. As he resumed his walk, he wondered whose +altars would be enriched by the offerings. A horse went by with clipped mane, +after the fashion of the time, his rider superbly dressed. He smiled to observe +the harmony of pride between the man and the brute. Often after that he turned +his head at hearing the rumble of wheels and the dull thud of hoofs; +unconsciously he was becoming interested in the styles of chariots and +charioteers, as they rustled past him going and coming. Nor was it long until +he began to make notes of the people around him. He saw they were of all ages, +sexes, and conditions, and all in holiday attire. One company was uniformed in +white, another in black; some bore flags, some smoking censers; some went +slowly, singing hymns; others stepped to the music of flutes and tabrets. If +such were the going to Daphne every day in the year, what a wondrous sight +Daphne must be! At last there was a clapping of hands, and a burst of joyous +cries; following the pointing of many fingers, he looked and saw upon the brow +of a hill the templed gate of the consecrated Grove. The hymns swelled to +louder strains; the music quickened time; and, borne along by the impulsive +current, and sharing the common eagerness, he passed in, and, Romanized in +taste as he was, fell to worshiping the place. +</p> + +<p> +Rearward of the structure which graced the entrance-way—a purely Grecian +pile—he stood upon a broad esplanade paved with polished stone; around +him a restless exclamatory multitude, in gayest colors, relieved against the +iridescent spray flying crystal-white from fountains; before him, off to the +southwest, dustless paths radiated out into a garden, and beyond that into a +forest, over which rested a veil of pale-blue vapor. Ben-Hur gazed wistfully, +uncertain where to go. A woman that moment exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +“Beautiful! But where to now?” +</p> + +<p> +Her companion, wearing a chaplet of bays, laughed and answered, “Go to, +thou pretty barbarian! The question implies an earthly fear; and did we not +agree to leave all such behind in Antioch with the rusty earth? The winds which +blow here are respirations of the gods. Let us give ourselves to waftage of the +winds.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if we should get lost?” +</p> + +<p> +“O thou timid! No one was ever lost in Daphne, except those on whom her +gates close forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who are they?” she asked, still fearful. +</p> + +<p> +“Such as have yielded to the charms of the place and chosen it for life +and death. Hark! Stand we here, and I will show you of whom I speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon the marble pavement there was a scurry of sandalled feet; the crowd +opened, and a party of girls rushed about the speaker and his fair friend, and +began singing and dancing to the tabrets they themselves touched. The woman, +scared, clung to the man, who put an arm about her, and, with kindled face, +kept time to the music with the other hand overhead. The hair of the dancers +floated free, and their limbs blushed through the robes of gauze which scarcely +draped them. Words may not be used to tell of the voluptuousness of the dance. +One brief round, and they darted off through the yielding crowd lightly as they +had come. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what think you?” cried the man to the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Devadasi—priestesses devoted to the Temple of Apollo. There is an +army of them. They make the chorus in celebrations. This is their home. +Sometimes they wander off to other cities, but all they make is brought here to +enrich the house of the divine musician. Shall we go now?” +</p> + +<p> +Next minute the two were gone. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took comfort in the assurance that no one was ever lost in Daphne, and +he, too, set out—where, he knew not. +</p> + +<p> +A sculpture reared upon a beautiful pedestal in the garden attracted him first. +It proved to be the statue of a centaur. An inscription informed the unlearned +visitor that it exactly represented Chiron, the beloved of Apollo and Diana, +instructed by them in the mysteries of hunting, medicine, music, and prophecy. +The inscription also bade the stranger look out at a certain part of the +heavens, at a certain hour of the clear night, and he would behold the dead +alive among the stars, whither Jupiter had transferred the good genius. +</p> + +<p> +The wisest of the centaurs continued, nevertheless, in the service of mankind. +In his hand he held a scroll, on which, graven in Greek, were paragraphs of a +notice: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“O Traveller!<br> +“Art thou a stranger? +</p> + +<p> +“I. Hearken to the singing of the brooks, and fear not the rain of the +fountains; so will the Naiades learn to love thee. +</p> + +<p> +“II. The invited breezes of Daphne are Zephyrus and Auster; gentle +ministers of life, they will gather sweets for thee; when Eurus blows, Diana is +elsewhere hunting; when Boreas blusters, go hide, for Apollo is angry. +</p> + +<p> +“III. The shades of the Grove are thine in the day; at night they belong +to Pan and his Dryades. Disturb them not. +</p> + +<p> +“IV. Eat of the Lotus by the brooksides sparingly, unless thou wouldst +have surcease of memory, which is to become a child of Daphne. +</p> + +<p> +“V. Walk thou round the weaving spider—’tis Arachne at work +for Minerva. +</p> + +<p> +“VI. Wouldst thou behold the tears of Daphne, break but a bud from a +laurel bough—and die. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“Heed thou!<br> +“And stay and be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur left the interpretation of the mystic notice to others fast enclosing +him, and turned away as the white bull was led by. The boy sat in the basket, +followed by a procession; after them again, the woman with the goats; and +behind her the flute and tabret players, and another procession of +gift-bringers. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither go they?” asked a bystander. +</p> + +<p> +Another made answer, “The bull to Father Jove; the goat—” +</p> + +<p> +“Did not Apollo once keep the flocks of Admetus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, the goat to Apollo!” +</p> + +<p> +The goodness of the reader is again besought in favor of an explanation. A +certain facility of accommodation in the matter of religion comes to us after +much intercourse with people of a different faith; gradually we attain the +truth that every creed is illustrated by good men who are entitled to our +respect, but whom we cannot respect without courtesy to their creed. To this +point Ben-Hur had arrived. Neither the years in Rome nor those in the galley +had made any impression upon his religious faith; he was yet a Jew. In his +view, nevertheless, it was not an impiety to look for the beautiful in the +Grove of Daphne. +</p> + +<p> +The remark does not interdict the further saying, if his scruples had been ever +so extreme, not improbably he would at this time have smothered them. He was +angry; not as the irritable, from chafing of a trifle; nor was his anger like +the fool’s, pumped from the wells of nothing, to be dissipated by a +reproach or a curse; it was the wrath peculiar to ardent natures rudely +awakened by the sudden annihilation of a hope—dream, if you will—in +which the choicest happinesses were thought to be certainly in reach. In such +case nothing intermediate will carry off the passion—the quarrel is with +Fate. +</p> + +<p> +Let us follow the philosophy a little further, and say to ourselves, it were +well in such quarrels if Fate were something tangible, to be despatched with a +look or a blow, or a speaking personage with whom high words were possible; +then the unhappy mortal would not always end the affair by punishing himself. +</p> + +<p> +In ordinary mood, Ben-Hur would not have come to the Grove alone, or, coming +alone, he would have availed himself of his position in the consul’s +family, and made provision against wandering idly about, unknowing and unknown; +he would have had all the points of interest in mind, and gone to them under +guidance, as in the despatch of business; or, wishing to squander days of +leisure in the beautiful place, he would have had in hand a letter to the +master of it all, whoever he might be. This would have made him a sightseer, +like the shouting herd he was accompanying; whereas he had no reverence for the +deities of the Grove, nor curiosity; a man in the blindness of bitter +disappointment, he was adrift, not waiting for Fate, but seeking it as a +desperate challenger. +</p> + +<p> +Every one has known this condition of mind, though perhaps not all in the same +degree; every one will recognize it as the condition in which he has done brave +things with apparent serenity; and every one reading will say, Fortunate for +Ben-Hur if the folly which now catches him is but a friendly harlequin with +whistle and painted cap, and not some Violence with a pointed sword pitiless. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +Ben-Hur entered the woods with the processions. He had not interest enough at +first to ask where they were going; yet, to relieve him from absolute +indifference, he had a vague impression that they were in movement to the +temples, which were the central objects of the Grove, supreme in attractions. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, as singers dreamfully play with a flitting chorus, he began +repeating to himself, “Better be a worm, and feed on the mulberries of +Daphne, than a king’s guest.” Then of the much repetition arose +questions importunate of answer. Was life in the Grove so very sweet? Wherein +was the charm? Did it lie in some tangled depth of philosophy? Or was it +something in fact, something on the surface, discernible to every-day wakeful +senses? Every year thousands, forswearing the world, gave themselves to service +here. Did they find the charm? And was it sufficient, when found, to induce +forgetfulness profound enough to shut out of mind the infinitely diverse things +of life? those that sweeten and those that embitter? hopes hovering in the near +future as well as sorrows born of the past? If the Grove were so good for them, +why should it not be good for him? He was a Jew; could it be that the +excellences were for all the world but children of Abraham? Forthwith he bent +all his faculties to the task of discovery, unmindful of the singing of the +gift-bringers and the quips of his associates. +</p> + +<p> +In the quest, the sky yielded him nothing; it was blue, very blue, and full of +twittering swallows—so was the sky over the city. +</p> + +<p> +Further on, out of the woods at his right hand, a breeze poured across the +road, splashing him with a wave of sweet smells, blent of roses and consuming +spices. He stopped, as did others, looking the way the breeze came. +</p> + +<p> +“A garden over there?” he said, to a man at his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather some priestly ceremony in performance—something to Diana, +or Pan, or a deity of the woods.” +</p> + +<p> +The answer was in his mother tongue. Ben-Hur gave the speaker a surprised look. +</p> + +<p> +“A Hebrew?” he asked him. +</p> + +<p> +The man replied with a deferential smile, +</p> + +<p> +“I was born within a stone’s-throw of the market-place in +Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was proceeding to further speech, when the crowd surged forward, +thrusting him out on the side of the walk next the woods, and carrying the +stranger away. The customary gown and staff, a brown cloth on the head tied by +a yellow rope, and a strong Judean face to avouch the garments of honest right, +remained in the young man’s mind, a kind of summary of the man. +</p> + +<p> +This took place at a point where a path into the woods began, offering a happy +escape from the noisy processions. Ben-Hur availed himself of the offer. +</p> + +<p> +He walked first into a thicket which, from the road, appeared in a state of +nature, close, impenetrable, a nesting-place for wild birds. A few steps, +however, gave him to see the master’s hand even there. The shrubs were +flowering or fruit-bearing; under the bending branches the ground was pranked +with brightest blooms; over them the jasmine stretched its delicate bonds. From +lilac and rose, and lily and tulip, from oleander and strawberry-tree, all old +friends in the gardens of the valleys about the city of David, the air, +lingering or in haste, loaded itself with exhalations day and night; and that +nothing might be wanting to the happiness of the nymphs and naiads, down +through the flower-lighted shadows of the mass a brook went its course gently, +and by many winding ways. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the thicket, as he proceeded, on his right and left, issued the cry of +the pigeon and the cooing of turtle-doves; blackbirds waited for him, and bided +his coming close; a nightingale kept its place fearless, though he passed in +arm’s-length; a quail ran before him at his feet, whistling to the brood +she was leading, and as he paused for them to get out of his way, a figure +crawled from a bed of honeyed musk brilliant with balls of golden blossoms. +Ben-Hur was startled. Had he, indeed, been permitted to see a satyr at home? +The creature looked up at him, and showed in its teeth a hooked pruning-knife; +he smiled at his own scare, and, lo! the charm was evolved! Peace without +fear—peace a universal condition—that it was! +</p> + +<p> +He sat upon the ground beneath a citron-tree, which spread its gray roots +sprawling to receive a branch of the brook. The nest of a titmouse hung close +to the bubbling water, and the tiny creature looked out of the door of the nest +into his eyes. “Verily, the bird is interpreting to me,” he +thought. “It says, ‘I am not afraid of you, for the law of this +happy place is Love.’” +</p> + +<p> +The charm of the Grove seemed plain to him; he was glad, and determined to +render himself one of the lost in Daphne. In charge of the flowers and shrubs, +and watching the growth of all the dumb excellences everywhere to be seen, +could not he, like the man with the pruning-knife in his mouth, forego the days +of his troubled life—forego them forgetting and forgotten? +</p> + +<p> +But by-and-by his Jewish nature began to stir within him. +</p> + +<p> +The charm might be sufficient for some people. Of what kind were they? +</p> + +<p> +Love is delightful—ah! how pleasant as a successor to wretchedness like +his. But was it all there was of life? All? +</p> + +<p> +There was an unlikeness between him and those who buried themselves contentedly +here. They had no duties—they could not have had; but he— +</p> + +<p> +“God of Israel!” he cried aloud, springing to his feet, with +burning cheeks—“Mother! Tirzah! Cursed be the moment, cursed the +place, in which I yield myself happy in your loss!” +</p> + +<p> +He hurried away through the thicket, and came to a stream flowing with the +volume of a river between banks of masonry, broken at intervals by gated +sluiceways. A bridge carried the path he was traversing across the stream; and, +standing upon it, he saw other bridges, no two of them alike. Under him the +water was lying in a deep pool, clear as a shadow; down a little way it tumbled +with a roar over rocks; then there was another pool, and another cascade; and +so on, out of view; and bridges and pools and resounding cascades said, plainly +as inarticulate things can tell a story, the river was running by permission of +a master, exactly as the master would have it, tractable as became a servant of +the gods. +</p> + +<p> +Forward from the bridge he beheld a landscape of wide valleys and irregular +heights, with groves and lakes and fanciful houses linked together by white +paths and shining streams. The valleys were spread below, that the river might +be poured upon them for refreshment in days of drought, and they were as green +carpets figured with beds and fields of flowers, and flecked with flocks of +sheep white as balls of snow; and the voices of shepherds following the flocks +were heard afar. As if to tell him of the pious inscription of all he beheld, +the altars out under the open sky seemed countless, each with a white-gowned +figure attending it, while processions in white went slowly hither and thither +between them; and the smoke of the altars half-risen hung collected in pale +clouds over the devoted places. +</p> + +<p> +Here, there, happy in flight, intoxicated in pause, from object to object, +point to point, now in the meadow, now on the heights, now lingering to +penetrate the groves and observe the processions, then lost in efforts to +pursue the paths and streams which trended mazily into dim perspectives to end +finally in— Ah, what might be a fitting end to scene so beautiful! What +adequate mysteries were hidden behind an introduction so marvellous! Here and +there, the speech was beginning, his gaze wandered, so he could not help the +conviction, forced by the view, and as the sum of it all, that there was peace +in the air and on the earth, and invitation everywhere to come and lie down +here and be at rest. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a revelation dawned upon him—the Grove was, in fact, a +temple—one far-reaching, wall-less temple! +</p> + +<p> +Never anything like it! +</p> + +<p> +The architect had not stopped to pother about columns and porticos, proportions +or interiors, or any limitation upon the epic he sought to materialize; he had +simply made a servant of Nature—art can go no further. So the cunning son +of Jupiter and Callisto built the old Arcadia; and in this, as in that, the +genius was Greek. +</p> + +<p> +From the bridge Ben-Hur went forward into the nearest valley. +</p> + +<p> +He came to a flock of sheep. The shepherd was a girl, and she beckoned him, +“Come!” +</p> + +<p> +Farther on, the path was divided by an altar—a pedestal of black gneiss, +capped with a slab of white marble deftly foliated, and on that a brazier of +bronze holding a fire. Close by it, a woman, seeing him, waved a wand of +willow, and as he passed called him, “Stay!” And the temptation in +her smile was that of passionate youth. +</p> + +<p> +On yet further, he met one of the processions; at its head a troop of little +girls, nude except as they were covered with garlands, piped their shrill +voices into a song; then a troop of boys, also nude, their bodies deeply +sun-browned, came dancing to the song of the girls; behind them the procession, +all women, bearing baskets of spices and sweets to the altars—women clad +in simple robes, careless of exposure. As he went by they held their hands to +him, and said, “Stay, and go with us.” One, a Greek, sang a verse +from Anacreon: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“For to-day I take or give;<br> +For to-day I drink and live;<br> +For to-day I beg or borrow;<br> +Who knows about the silent morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +But he pursued his way indifferent, and came next to a grove luxuriant, in the +heart of the vale at the point where it would be most attractive to the +observing eye. As it came close to the path he was travelling, there was a +seduction in its shade, and through the foliage he caught the shining of what +appeared a pretentious statue; so he turned aside, and entered the cool +retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The grass was fresh and clean. The trees did not crowd each other; and they +were of every kind native to the East, blended well with strangers adopted from +far quarters; here grouped in exclusive companionship palm-trees plumed like +queens; there sycamores, overtopping laurels of darker foliage; and evergreen +oaks rising verdantly, with cedars vast enough to be kings on Lebanon; and +mulberries; and terebinths so beautiful it is not hyperbole to speak of them as +blown from the orchards of Paradise. +</p> + +<p> +The statue proved to be a Daphne of wondrous beauty. Hardly, however, had he +time to more than glance at her face: at the base of the pedestal a girl and a +youth were lying upon a tiger’s skin asleep in each other’s arms; +close by them the implements of their service—his axe and sickle, her +basket—flung carelessly upon a heap of fading roses. +</p> + +<p> +The exposure startled him. Back in the hush of the perfumed thicket he +discovered, as he thought, that the charm of the great Grove was peace without +fear, and almost yielded to it; now, in this sleep in the day’s broad +glare—this sleep at the feet of Daphne—he read a further chapter to +which only the vaguest allusion is sufferable. The law of the place was Love, +but Love without Law. +</p> + +<p> +And this was the sweet peace of Daphne! +</p> + +<p> +This the life’s end of her ministers! +</p> + +<p> +For this kings and princes gave of their revenues! +</p> + +<p> +For this a crafty priesthood subordinated nature—her birds and brooks and +lilies, the river, the labor of many hands, the sanctity of altars, the fertile +power of the sun! +</p> + +<p> +It would be pleasant now to record that as Ben-Hur pursued his walk assailed by +such reflections, he yielded somewhat to sorrow for the votaries of the great +outdoor temple; especially for those who, by personal service, kept it in a +state so surpassingly lovely. How they came to the condition was not any longer +a mystery; the motive, the influence, the inducement, were before him. Some +there were, no doubt, caught by the promise held out to their troubled spirits +of endless peace in a consecrated abode, to the beauty of which, if they had +not money, they could contribute their labor; this class implied intellect +peculiarly subject to hope and fear; but the great body of the faithful could +not be classed with such. Apollo’s nets were wide, and their meshes +small; and hardly may one tell what all his fishermen landed: this less for +that they cannot be described than because they ought not to be. Enough that +the mass were of the sybarites of the world, and of the herds in number vaster +and in degree lower—devotees of the unmixed sensualism to which the East +was almost wholly given. Not to any of the exaltations—not to the +singing-god, or his unhappy mistress; not to any philosophy requiring for its +enjoyment the calm of retirement, nor to any service for the comfort there is +in religion, nor to love in its holier sense—were they abiding their +vows. Good reader, why shall not the truth be told here? Why not learn that, at +this age, there were in all earth but two peoples capable of exaltations of the +kind referred to—those who lived by the law of Moses, and those who lived +by the law of Brahma. They alone could have cried you, Better a law without +love than a love without law. +</p> + +<p> +Besides that, sympathy is in great degree a result of the mood we are in at the +moment: anger forbids the emotion. On the other hand, it is easiest taken on +when we are in a state of most absolute self-satisfaction. Ben-Hur walked with +a quicker step, holding his head higher; and, while not less sensitive to the +delightfulness of all about him, he made his survey with calmer spirit, though +sometimes with curling lip; that is to say, he could not so soon forget how +nearly he himself had been imposed upon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +In front of Ben-Hur there was a forest of cypress-trees, each a column tall and +straight as a mast. Venturing into the shady precinct, he heard a trumpet gayly +blown, and an instant after saw lying upon the grass close by the countryman +whom he had run upon in the road going to the temples. The man arose, and came +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you peace again,” he said, pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” Ben-Hur replied, then asked, “Go you my +way?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am for the stadium, if that is your way.” +</p> + +<p> +“The stadium!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The trumpet you heard but now was a call for the +competitors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good friend,” said Ben-Hur, frankly, “I admit my ignorance +of the Grove; and if you will let me be your follower, I will be glad.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will delight me. Hark! I hear the wheels of the chariots. They are +taking the track.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur listened a moment, then completed the introduction by laying his hand +upon the man’s arm, and saying, “I am the son of Arrius, the +duumvir, and thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am Malluch, a merchant of Antioch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good Malluch, the trumpet, and the gride of wheels, and the +prospect of diversion excite me. I have some skill in the exercises. In the +palaestrae of Rome I am not unknown. Let us to the course.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch lingered to say, quickly, “The duumvir was a Roman, yet I see his +son in the garments of a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“The noble Arrius was my father by adoption,” Ben-Hur answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I see, and beg pardon.” +</p> + +<p> +Passing through the belt of forest, they came to a field with a track laid out +upon it, in shape and extent exactly like those of the stadia. The course, or +track proper, was of soft earth, rolled and sprinkled, and on both sides +defined by ropes, stretched loosely upon upright javelins. For the +accommodation of spectators, and such as had interests reaching forward of the +mere practise, there were several stands shaded by substantial awnings, and +provided with seats in rising rows. In one of the stands the two new-comers +found places. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur counted the chariots as they went by—nine in all. +</p> + +<p> +“I commend the fellows,” he said, with good-will. “Here in +the East, I thought they aspired to nothing better than the two; but they are +ambitious, and play with royal fours. Let us study their performance.” +</p> + +<p> +Eight of the fours passed the stand, some walking, others on the trot, and all +unexceptionably handled; then the ninth one came on the gallop. Ben-Hur burst +into exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been in the stables of the emperor, Malluch, but, by our father +Abraham of blessed memory! I never saw the like of these.” +</p> + +<p> +The last four was then sweeping past. All at once they fell into confusion. +Some one on the stand uttered a sharp cry. Ben-Hur turned, and saw an old man +half-risen from an upper seat, his hands clenched and raised, his eyes fiercely +bright, his long white beard fairly quivering. Some of the spectators nearest +him began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“They should respect his beard at least. Who is he?” asked Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“A mighty man from the Desert, somewhere beyond Moab, and owner of camels +in herds, and horses descended, they say, from the racers of the first +Pharaoh—Sheik Ilderim by name and title.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus Malluch replied. +</p> + +<p> +The driver meanwhile exerted himself to quiet the four, but without avail. Each +ineffectual effort excited the sheik the more. +</p> + +<p> +“Abaddon seize him!” yelled the patriarch, shrilly. “Run! +fly! do you hear, my children?” The question was to his attendants, +apparently of the tribe. “Do you hear? They are Desert-born, like +yourselves. Catch them—quick!” +</p> + +<p> +The plunging of the animals increased. +</p> + +<p> +“Accursed Roman!” and the sheik shook his fist at the driver. +“Did he not swear he could drive them—swear it by all his brood of +bastard Latin gods? Nay, hands off me—off, I say! They should run swift +as eagles, and with the temper of hand-bred lambs, he swore. Cursed be +he—cursed the mother of liars who calls him son! See them, the priceless! +Let him touch one of them with a lash, and”—the rest of the +sentence was lost in a furious grinding of his teeth. “To their heads, +some of you, and speak them—a word, one is enough, from the tent-song +your mothers sang you. Oh, fool, fool that I was to put trust in a +Roman!” +</p> + +<p> +Some of the shrewder of the old man’s friends planted themselves between +him and the horses. An opportune failure of breath on his part helped the +stratagem. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur, thinking he comprehended the sheik, sympathized with him. Far more +than mere pride of property—more than anxiety for the result of the +race—in his view it was within the possible for the patriarch, according +to his habits of thought and his ideas of the inestimable, to love such animals +with a tenderness akin to the most sensitive passion. +</p> + +<p> +They were all bright bays, unspotted, perfectly matched, and so proportioned as +to seem less than they really were. Delicate ears pointed small heads; the +faces were broad and full between the eyes; the nostrils in expansion disclosed +membrane so deeply red as to suggest the flashing of flame; the necks were +arches, overlaid with fine mane so abundant as to drape the shoulders and +breast, while in happy consonance the forelocks were like ravellings of silken +veils; between the knees and the fetlocks the legs were flat as an open hand, +but above the knees they were rounded with mighty muscles, needful to upbear +the shapely close-knit bodies; the hoofs were like cups of polished agate; and +in rearing and plunging they whipped the air, and sometimes the earth, with +tails glossy-black and thick and long. The sheik spoke of them as the +priceless, and it was a good saying. +</p> + +<p> +In this second and closer look at the horses, Ben-Hur read the story of their +relation to their master. They had grown up under his eyes, objects of his +special care in the day, his visions of pride in the night, with his family at +home in the black tent out on the shadeless bosom of the desert, as his +children beloved. That they might win him a triumph over the haughty and hated +Roman, the old man had brought his loves to the city, never doubting they would +win, if only he could find a trusty expert to take them in hand; not merely one +with skill, but of a spirit which their spirits would acknowledge. Unlike the +colder people of the West, he could not protest the driver’s inability, +and dismiss him civilly; an Arab and a sheik, he had to explode, and rive the +air about him with clamor. +</p> + +<p> +Before the patriarch was done with his expletives, a dozen hands were at the +bits of the horses, and their quiet assured. About that time, another chariot +appeared upon the track; and, unlike the others, driver, vehicle, and races +were precisely as they would be presented in the Circus the day of final trial. +For a reason which will presently be more apparent, it is desirable now to give +this turnout plainly to the reader. +</p> + +<p> +There should be no difficulty in understanding the carriage known to us all as +the chariot of classical renown. One has but to picture to himself a dray with +low wheels and broad axle, surmounted by a box open at the tail end. Such was +the primitive pattern. Artistic genius came along in time, and, touching the +rude machine, raised it into a thing of beauty—that, for instance, in +which Aurora, riding in advance of the dawn, is given to our fancy. +</p> + +<p> +The jockeys of the ancients, quite as shrewd and ambitious as their successors +of the present, called their humblest turnout a two, and their best in grade a +four; in the latter, they contested the Olympics and the other festal shows +founded in imitation of them. +</p> + +<p> +The same sharp gamesters preferred to put their horses to the chariot all +abreast; and for distinction they termed the two next the pole yoke-steeds, and +those on the right and left outside trace-mates. It was their judgment, also, +that, by allowing the fullest freedom of action, the greatest speed was +attainable; accordingly, the harness resorted to was peculiarly simple; in +fact, there was nothing of it save a collar round the animal’s neck, and +a trace fixed to the collar, unless the lines and a halter fall within the +term. Wanting to hitch up, the masters pinned a narrow wooden yoke, or +cross-tree, near the end of the pole, and, by straps passed through rings at +the end of the yoke, buckled the latter to the collar. The traces of the +yokesteeds they hitched to the axle; those of the trace-mates to the top rim of +the chariot-bed. There remained then but the adjustment of the lines, which, +judged by the modern devices, was not the least curious part of the method. For +this there was a large ring at the forward extremity of the pole; securing the +ends to that ring first, they parted the lines so as to give one to each horse, +and proceeded to pass them to the driver, slipping them separately through +rings on the inner side of the halters at the mouth. +</p> + +<p> +With this plain generalization in mind, all further desirable knowledge upon +the subject can be had by following the incidents of the scene occurring. +</p> + +<p> +The other contestants had been received in silence; the last comer was more +fortunate. While moving towards the stand from which we are viewing the scene, +his progress was signalized by loud demonstrations, by clapping of hands and +cheers, the effect of which was to centre attention upon him exclusively. His +yoke-steeds, it was observed, were black, while the trace-mates were +snow-white. In conformity to the exacting canons of Roman taste, they had all +four been mutilated; that is to say, their tails had been clipped, and, to +complete the barbarity, their shorn manes were divided into knots tied with +flaring red and yellow ribbons. +</p> + +<p> +In advancing, the stranger at length reached a point where the chariot came +into view from the stand, and its appearance would of itself have justified the +shouting. The wheels were very marvels of construction. Stout bands of +burnished bronze reinforced the hubs, otherwise very light; the spokes were +sections of ivory tusks, set in with the natural curve outward to perfect the +dishing, considered important then as now; bronze tires held the fellies, which +were of shining ebony. The axle, in keeping with the wheels, was tipped with +heads of snarling tigers done in brass, and the bed was woven of willow wands +gilded with gold. +</p> + +<p> +The coming of the beautiful horses and resplendent chariot drew Ben-Hur to look +at the driver with increased interest. +</p> + +<p> +Who was he? +</p> + +<p> +When Ben-Hur asked himself the question first, he could not see the man’s +face, or even his full figure; yet the air and manner were familiar, and +pricked him keenly with a reminder of a period long gone. +</p> + +<p> +Who could it be? +</p> + +<p> +Nearer now, and the horses approaching at a trot. From the shouting and the +gorgeousness of the turnout, it was thought he might be some official favorite +or famous prince. Such an appearance was not inconsistent with exalted rank. +Kings often struggled for the crown of leaves which was the prize of victory. +Nero and Commodus, it will be remembered, devoted themselves to the chariot. +Ben-Hur arose and forced a passage down nearly to the railing in front of the +lower seat of the stand. His face was earnest, his manner eager. +</p> + +<p> +And directly the whole person of the driver was in view. A companion rode with +him, in classic description a Myrtilus, permitted men of high estate indulging +their passion for the race-course. Ben-Hur could see only the driver, standing +erect in the chariot, with the reins passed several times round his +body—a handsome figure, scantily covered by a tunic of light-red cloth; +in the right hand a whip; in the other, the arm raised and lightly extended, +the four lines. The pose was exceedingly graceful and animated. The cheers and +clapping of hands were received with statuesque indifference. Ben-Hur stood +transfixed—his instinct and memory had served him faithfully—THE +DRIVER WAS MESSALA. +</p> + +<p> +By the selection of horses, the magnificence of the chariot, the attitude, and +display of person—above all, by the expression of the cold, sharp, eagle +features, imperialized in his countrymen by sway of the world through so many +generations, Ben-Hur knew Messala unchanged, as haughty, confident, and +audacious as ever, the same in ambition, cynicism, and mocking insouciance. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +As Ben-Hur descended the steps of the stand, an Arab arose upon the last one at +the foot, and cried out, +</p> + +<p> +“Men of the East and West—hearken! The good Sheik Ilderim giveth +greeting. With four horses, sons of the favorites of Solomon the Wise, he hath +come up against the best. Needs he most a mighty man to drive them. Whoso will +take them to his satisfaction, to him he promiseth enrichment forever. +Here—there—in the city and in the Circuses, and wherever the strong +most do congregate, tell ye this his offer. So saith my master, Sheik Ilderim +the Generous.” +</p> + +<p> +The proclamation awakened a great buzz among the people under the awning. By +night it would be repeated and discussed in all the sporting circles of +Antioch. Ben-Hur, hearing it, stopped and looked hesitatingly from the herald +to the sheik. Malluch thought he was about to accept the offer, but was +relieved when he presently turned to him, and asked, “Good Malluch, where +to now?” +</p> + +<p> +The worthy replied, with a laugh, “Would you liken yourself to others +visiting the Grove for the first time, you will straightway to hear your +fortune told.” +</p> + +<p> +“My fortune, said you? Though the suggestion has in it a flavor of +unbelief, let us to the goddess at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, son of Arrius, these Apollonians have a better trick than that. +Instead of speech with a Pythia or a Sibyl, they will sell you a plain papyrus +leaf, hardly dry from the stalk, and bid you dip it in the water of a certain +fountain, when it will show you a verse in which you may hear of your +future.” +</p> + +<p> +The glow of interest departed from Ben-Hur’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“There are people who have no need to vex themselves about their +future,” he said, gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you prefer to go to the temples?” +</p> + +<p> +“The temples are Greek, are they not?” +</p> + +<p> +“They call them Greek.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Hellenes were masters of the beautiful in art; but in architecture +they sacrificed variety to unbending beauty. Their temples are all alike. How +call you the fountain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Castalia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it has repute throughout the world. Let us thither.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch kept watch on his companion as they went, and saw that for the moment +at least his good spirits were out. To the people passing he gave no attention; +over the wonders they came upon there were no exclamations; silently, even +sullenly, he kept a slow pace. +</p> + +<p> +The truth was, the sight of Messala had set Ben-Hur to thinking. It seemed +scarce an hour ago that the strong hands had torn him from his mother, scarce +an hour ago that the Roman had put seal upon the gates of his father’s +house. He recounted how, in the hopeless misery of the life—if such it +might be called—in the galleys, he had had little else to do, aside from +labor, than dream dreams of vengeance, in all of which Messala was the +principal. There might be, he used to say to himself, escape for Gratus, but +for Messala—never! And to strengthen and harden his resolution, he was +accustomed to repeat over and over, Who pointed us out to the persecutors? And +when I begged him for help—not for myself—who mocked me, and went +away laughing? And always the dream had the same ending. The day I meet him, +help me, thou good God of my people!—help me to some fitting special +vengeance! +</p> + +<p> +And now the meeting was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, if he had found Messala poor and suffering, Ben-Hur’s feeling +had been different; but it was not so. He found him more than prosperous; in +the prosperity there was a dash and glitter—gleam of sun on gilt of gold. +</p> + +<p> +So it happened that what Malluch accounted a passing loss of spirit was +pondering when the meeting should be, and in what manner he could make it most +memorable. +</p> + +<p> +They turned after a while into an avenue of oaks, where the people were going +and coming in groups; footmen here, and horsemen; there women in litters borne +slaves; and now and then chariots rolled by thunderously. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the avenue the road, by an easy grade, descended into a lowland, +where, on the right hand, there was a precipitous facing of gray rock, and on +the left an open meadow of vernal freshness. Then they came in view of the +famous Fountain of Castalia. +</p> + +<p> +Edging through a company assembled at the point, Ben-Hur beheld a jet of sweet +water pouring from the crest of a stone into a basin of black marble, where, +after much boiling and foaming, it disappeared as through a funnel. +</p> + +<p> +By the basin, under a small portico cut in the solid wall, sat a priest, old, +bearded, wrinkled, cowled—never being more perfectly eremitish. From the +manner of the people present, hardly might one say which was the attraction, +the fountain, forever sparkling, or the priest, forever there. He heard, saw, +was seen, but never spoke. Occasionally a visitor extended a hand to him with a +coin in it. With a cunning twinkle of the eyes, he took the money, and gave the +party in exchange a leaf of papyrus. +</p> + +<p> +The receiver made haste to plunge the papyrus into the basin; then, holding the +dripping leaf in the sunlight, he would be rewarded with a versified +inscription upon its face; and the fame of the fountain seldom suffered loss by +poverty of merit in the poetry. Before Ben-Hur could test the oracle, some +other visitors were seen approaching across the meadow, and their appearance +piqued the curiosity of the company, his not less than theirs. +</p> + +<p> +He saw first a camel, very tall and very white, in leading of a driver on +horseback. A houdah on the animal, besides being unusually large, was of +crimson and gold. Two other horsemen followed the camel with tall spears in +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What a wonderful camel!” said one of the company. +</p> + +<p> +“A prince from afar,” another one suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“More likely a king.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he were on an elephant, I would say he was a king.” +</p> + +<p> +A third man had a very different opinion. +</p> + +<p> +“A camel—and a white camel!” he said, authoritatively. +“By Apollo, friends, they who come yonder—you can see there are two +of them—are neither kings nor princes; they are women!” +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the dispute the strangers arrived. +</p> + +<p> +The camel seen at hand did not belie his appearance afar. A taller, statelier +brute of his kind no traveller at the fountain, though from the remotest parts, +had ever beheld. Such great black eyes! such exceedingly fine white hair! feet +so contractile when raised, so soundless in planting, so broad when +set!—nobody had ever seen the peer of this camel. And how well he became +his housing of silk, and all its frippery of gold in fringe and gold in tassel! +The tinkling of silver bells went before him, and he moved lightly, as if +unknowing of his burden. +</p> + +<p> +But who were the man and woman under the houdah? +</p> + +<p> +Every eye saluted them with the inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +If the former were a prince or a king, the philosophers of the crowd might not +deny the impartiality of Time. When they saw the thin, shrunken face buried +under an immense turban, the skin of the hue of a mummy, making it impossible +to form an idea of his nationality, they were pleased to think the limit of +life was for the great as well as the small. They saw about his person nothing +so enviable as the shawl which draped him. +</p> + +<p> +The woman was seated in the manner of the East, amidst veils and laces of +surpassing fineness. Above her elbows she wore armlets fashioned like coiled +asps, and linked to bracelets at the wrists by strands of gold; otherwise the +arms were bare and of singular natural grace, complemented with hands modelled +daintily as a child’s. One of the hands rested upon the side of the +carriage, showing tapered fingers glittering with rings, and stained at the +tips till they blushed like the pink of mother-of-pearl. She wore an open caul +upon her head, sprinkled with beads of coral, and strung with coin-pieces +called sunlets, some of which were carried across her forehead, while others +fell down her back, half-smothered in the mass of her straight blue-black hair, +of itself an incomparable ornament, not needing the veil which covered it, +except as a protection against sun and dust. From her elevated seat she looked +upon the people calmly, pleasantly, and apparently so intent upon studying them +as to be unconscious of the interest she herself was exciting; and, what was +unusual—nay, in violent contravention of the custom among women of rank +in public—she looked at them with an open face. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fair face to see; quite youthful; in form, oval: complexion not white, +like the Greek; nor brunet, like the Roman; nor blond, like the Gaul; but +rather the tinting of the sun of the Upper Nile upon a skin of such +transparency that the blood shone through it on cheek and brow with nigh the +ruddiness of lamplight. The eyes, naturally large, were touched along the lids +with the black paint immemorial throughout the East. The lips were slightly +parted, disclosing, through their scarlet lake, teeth of glistening whiteness. +To all these excellences of countenance the reader is finally besought to +superadd the air derived from the pose of a small head, classic in shape, set +upon a neck long, drooping, and graceful—the air, we may fancy, happily +described by the word queenly. +</p> + +<p> +As if satisfied with the survey of people and locality, the fair creature spoke +to the driver—an Ethiopian of vast brawn, naked to the waist—who +led the camel nearer the fountain, and caused it to kneel; after which he +received from her hand a cup, and proceeded to fill it at the basin. That +instant the sound of wheels and the trampling of horses in rapid motion broke +the silence her beauty had imposed, and, with a great outcry, the bystanders +parted in every direction, hurrying to get away. +</p> + +<p> +“The Roman has a mind to ride us down. Look out!” Malluch shouted +to Ben-Hur, setting him at the same time an example of hasty flight. +</p> + +<p> +The latter faced to the direction the sounds came from, and beheld Messala in +his chariot pushing the four straight at the crowd. This time the view was near +and distinct. +</p> + +<p> +The parting of the company uncovered the camel, which might have been more +agile than his kind generally; yet the hoofs were almost upon him, and he +resting with closed eyes, chewing the endless cud with such sense of security +as long favoritism may be supposed to have bred in him. The Ethiopian wrung his +hands afraid. In the houdah, the old man moved to escape; but he was hampered +with age, and could not, even in the face of danger, forget the dignity which +was plainly his habit. It was too late for the woman to save herself. Ben-Hur +stood nearest them, and he called to Messala, +</p> + +<p> +“Hold! Look where thou goest! Back, back!” +</p> + +<p> +The patrician was laughing in hearty good-humor; and, seeing there was but one +chance of rescue, Ben-Hur stepped in, and caught the bits of the left +yoke-steed and his mate. “Dog of a Roman! Carest thou so little for +life?” he cried, putting forth all his strength. The two horses reared, +and drew the others round; the tilting of the pole tilted the chariot; Messala +barely escaped a fall, while his complacent Myrtilus rolled back like a clod to +the ground. Seeing the peril past, all the bystanders burst into derisive +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +The matchless audacity of the Roman then manifested itself. Loosing the lines +from his body, he tossed them to one side, dismounted, walked round the camel, +looked at Ben-Hur, and spoke partly to the old man and partly to the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, I pray you—I pray you both. I am Messala,” he said; +“and, by the old Mother of the earth, I swear I did not see you or your +camel! As to these good people—perhaps I trusted too much to my skill. I +sought a laugh at them—the laugh is theirs. Good may it do them!” +</p> + +<p> +The good-natured, careless look and gesture he threw the bystanders accorded +well with the speech. To hear what more he had to say, they became quiet. +Assured of victory over the body of the offended, he signed his companion to +take the chariot to a safer distance, and addressed himself boldly to the +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast interest in the good man here, whose pardon, if not granted +now, I shall seek with the greater diligence hereafter; his daughter, I should +say.” +</p> + +<p> +She made him no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“By Pallas, thou art beautiful! Beware Apollo mistake thee not for his +lost love. I wonder what land can boast herself thy mother. Turn not away. A +truce! a truce! There is the sun of India in thine eyes; in the corners of thy +mouth, Egypt hath set her love-signs. Perpol! Turn not to that slave, fair +mistress, before proving merciful to this one. Tell me at least that I am +pardoned.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point she broke in upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Wilt thou come here?” she asked, smiling, and with gracious bend +of the head to Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Take the cup and fill it, I pray thee,” she said to the latter. +“My father is thirsty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am thy most willing servant!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur turned about to do the favor, and was face to face with Messala. Their +glances met; the Jew’s defiant; the Roman’s sparkling with humor. +</p> + +<p> +“O stranger, beautiful as cruel!” Messala said, waving his hand to +her. “If Apollo get thee not, thou shalt see me again. Not knowing thy +country, I cannot name a god to commend thee to; so, by all the gods, I will +commend thee to—myself!” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing that Myrtilus had the four composed and ready, he returned to the +chariot. The woman looked after him as he moved away, and whatever else there +was in her look, there was no displeasure. Presently she received the water; +her father drank; then she raised the cup to her lips, and, leaning down, gave +it to Ben-Hur; never action more graceful and gracious. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep it, we pray of thee! It is full of blessings—all +thine!” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the camel was aroused, and on his feet, and about to go, when the +old man called, +</p> + +<p> +“Stand thou here.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur went to him respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast served the stranger well to-day. There is but one God. In his +holy name I thank thee. I am Balthasar, the Egyptian. In the Great Orchard of +Palms, beyond the village of Daphne, in the shade of the palms, Sheik Ilderim +the Generous abideth in his tents, and we are his guests. Seek us there. Thou +shalt have welcome sweet with the savor of the grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was left in wonder at the old man’s clear voice and reverend +manner. As he gazed after the two departing, he caught sight of Messala going +as he had come, joyous, indifferent, and with a mocking laugh. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +As a rule, there is no surer way to the dislike of men than to behave well +where they have behaved badly. In this instance, happily, Malluch was an +exception to the rule. The affair he had just witnessed raised Ben-Hur in his +estimation, since he could not deny him courage and address; could he now get +some insight into the young man’s history, the results of the day would +not be all unprofitable to good master Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +On the latter point, referring to what he had as yet learned, two facts +comprehended it all—the subject of his investigation was a Jew, and the +adopted son of a famous Roman. Another conclusion which might be of importance +was beginning to formulate itself in the shrewd mind of the emissary; between +Messala and the son of the duumvir there was a connection of some kind. But +what was it?—and how could it be reduced to assurance? With all his +sounding, the ways and means of solution were not at call. In the heat of the +perplexity, Ben-Hur himself came to his help. He laid his hand on +Malluch’s arm and drew him out of the crowd, which was already going back +to its interest in the gray old priest and the mystic fountain. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Malluch,” he said, stopping, “may a man forget his +mother?” +</p> + +<p> +The question was abrupt and without direction, and therefore of the kind which +leaves the person addressed in a state of confusion. Malluch looked into +Ben-Hur’s face for a hint of meaning, but saw, instead, two bright-red +spots, one on each cheek, and in his eyes traces of what might have been +repressed tears; then he answered, mechanically, “No!” adding, with +fervor, “never;” and a moment after, when he began to recover +himself, “If he is an Israelite, never!” And when at length he was +completely recovered—“My first lesson in the synagogue was the +Shema; my next was the saying of the son of Sirach, ‘Honor thy father +with thy whole soul, and forget not the sorrows of thy mother.’” +</p> + +<p> +The red spots on Ben-Hur’s face deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“The words bring my childhood back again; and, Malluch, they prove you a +genuine Jew. I believe I can trust you.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur let go the arm he was holding, and caught the folds of the gown +covering his own breast, and pressed them close, as if to smother a pain, or a +feeling there as sharp as a pain. +</p> + +<p> +“My father,” he said, “bore a good name, and was not without +honor in Jerusalem, where he dwelt. My mother, at his death, was in the prime +of womanhood; and it is not enough to say of her she was good and beautiful: in +her tongue was the law of kindness, and her works were the praise of all in the +gates, and she smiled at days to come. I had a little sister, and she and I +were the family, and we were so happy that I, at least, have never seen harm in +the saying of the old rabbi, ‘God could not be everywhere, and, +therefore, he made mothers.’ One day an accident happened to a Roman in +authority as he was riding past our house at the head of a cohort; the +legionaries burst the gate and rushed in and seized us. I have not seen my +mother or sister since. I cannot say they are dead or living. I do not know +what became of them. But, Malluch, the man in the chariot yonder was present at +the separation; he gave us over to the captors; he heard my mother’s +prayer for her children, and he laughed when they dragged her away. Hardly may +one say which graves deepest in memory, love or hate. To-day I knew him +afar—and, Malluch—” +</p> + +<p> +He caught the listener’s arm again. +</p> + +<p> +“And, Malluch, he knows and takes with him now the secret I would give my +life for: he could tell if she lives, and where she is, and her condition; if +she—no, THEY—much sorrow has made the two as one—if they are +dead, he could tell where they died, and of what, and where their bones await +my finding.” +</p> + +<p> +“And will he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a Jew, and he is a Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Romans have tongues, and Jews, though ever so despised, have methods +to beguile them.” +</p> + +<p> +“For such as he? No; and, besides, the secret is one of state. All my +father’s property was confiscated and divided.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch nodded his head slowly, much as to admit the argument; then he asked +anew, “Did he not recognize you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He could not. I was sent to death in life, and have been long since +accounted of the dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder you did not strike him,” said Malluch, yielding to a +touch of passion. +</p> + +<p> +“That would have been to put him past serving me forever. I would have +had to kill him, and Death, you know, keeps secrets better even than a guilty +Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +The man who, with so much to avenge, could so calmly put such an opportunity +aside must be confident of his future or have ready some better design, and +Malluch’s interest changed with the thought; it ceased to be that of an +emissary in duty bound to another. Ben-Hur was actually asserting a claim upon +him for his own sake. In other words, Malluch was preparing to serve him with +good heart and from downright admiration. +</p> + +<p> +After brief pause, Ben-Hur resumed speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“I would not take his life, good Malluch; against that extreme the +possession of the secret is for the present, at least, his safeguard; yet I may +punish him, and so you give me help, I will try.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a Roman,” said Malluch, without hesitation; “and I am +of the tribe of Judah. I will help you. If you choose, put me under +oath—under the most solemn oath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me your hand, that will suffice.” +</p> + +<p> +As their hands fell apart, Ben-Hur said, with lightened feeling, “That I +would charge you with is not difficult, good friend; neither is it dreadful to +conscience. Let us move on.” +</p> + +<p> +They took the road which led to the right across the meadow spoken of in the +description of the coming to the fountain. Ben-Hur was first to break the +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Sheik Ilderim the Generous?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is his Orchard of Palms? or, rather, Malluch, how far is it beyond +the village of Daphne?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch was touched by a doubt; he recalled the prettiness of the favor shown +him by the woman at the fountain, and wondered if he who had the sorrows of a +mother in mind was about to forget them for a lure of love; yet he replied, +“The Orchard of Palms lies beyond the village two hours by horse, and one +by swift camel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you; and to your knowledge once more. Have the games of which you +told me been widely published? and when will they take place?” +</p> + +<p> +The questions were suggestive; and if they did not restore Malluch his +confidence, they at least stimulated his curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, they will be of ample splendor. The prefect is rich, and could +afford to lose his place; yet, as is the way with successful men, his love of +riches is nowise diminished; and to gain a friend at court, if nothing more, he +must make ado for the Consul Maxentius, who is coming hither to make final +preparations for a campaign against the Parthians. The money there is in the +preparations the citizens of Antioch know from experience; so they have had +permission to join the prefect in the honors intended for the great man. A +month ago heralds went to the four quarters to proclaim the opening of the +Circus for the celebration. The name of the prefect would be of itself good +guarantee of variety and magnificence, particularly throughout the East; but +when to his promises Antioch joins hers, all the islands and the cities by the +sea stand assured of the extraordinary, and will be here in person or by their +most famous professionals. The fees offered are royal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the Circus—I have heard it is second only to the +Maximus.” +</p> + +<p> +“At Rome, you mean. Well, ours seats two hundred thousand people, yours +seats seventy-five thousand more; yours is of marble, so is ours; in +arrangement they are exactly the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are the rules the same?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“If Antioch dared be original, son of Arrius, Rome would not be the +mistress she is. The laws of the Circus Maximus govern except in one +particular: there but four chariots may start at once, here all start without +reference to number.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the practise of the Greeks,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Antioch is more Greek than Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +“So then, Malluch, I may choose my own chariot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your own chariot and horses. There is no restriction upon either.” +</p> + +<p> +While replying, Malluch observed the thoughtful look on Ben-Hur’s face +give place to one of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“One thing more now, O Malluch. When will the celebration be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! your pardon,” the other answered. “To-morrow—and +the next day,” he said, counting aloud, “then, to speak in the +Roman style, if the sea-gods be propitious, the consul arrives. Yes, the sixth +day from this we have the games.” +</p> + +<p> +“The time is short, Malluch, but it is enough.” The last words were +spoken decisively. “By the prophets of our old Israel! I will take to the +reins again. Stay! a condition; is there assurance that Messala will be a +competitor?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch saw now the plan, and all its opportunities for the humiliation of the +Roman; and he had not been true descendant of Jacob if, with all his interest +wakened, he had not rushed to a consideration of the chances. His voice +actually trembled as he said, “Have you the practise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fear not, my friend. The winners in the Circus Maximus have held their +crowns these three years at my will. Ask them—ask the best of +them—and they will tell you so. In the last great games the emperor +himself offered me his patronage if I would take his horses in hand and run +them against the entries of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you did not?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch spoke eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I am a Jew”—Ben-Hur seemed shrinking within himself +as he spoke—“and, though I wear a Roman name, I dared not do +professionally a thing to sully my father’s name in the cloisters and +courts of the Temple. In the palaestrae I could indulge practise which, if +followed into the Circus, would become an abomination; and if I take to the +course here, Malluch, I swear it will not be for the prize or the +winner’s fee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold—swear not so!” cried Malluch. “The fee is ten +thousand sestertii—a fortune for life!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for me, though the prefect trebled it fifty times. Better than that, +better than all the imperial revenues from the first year of the first +Cæsar—I will make this race to humble my enemy. Vengeance is permitted +by the law.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch smiled and nodded as if saying, “Right, right—trust me a +Jew to understand a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Messala will drive,” he said, directly. “He is committed +to the race in many ways—by publication in the streets, and in the baths +and theaters, the palace and barracks; and, to fix him past retreat, his name +is on the tablets of every young spendthrift in Antioch.” +</p> + +<p> +“In wager, Malluch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, in wager; and every day he comes ostentatiously to practise, as you +saw him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! and that is the chariot, and those the horses, with which he will +make the race? Thank you, thank you, Malluch! You have served me well already. +I am satisfied. Now be my guide to the Orchard of Palms, and give me +introduction to Sheik Ilderim the Generous.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-day. His horses may be engaged to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“You like them, then?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur answered with animation, +</p> + +<p> +“I saw them from the stand an instant only, for Messala then drove up, +and I might not look at anything else; yet I recognized them as of the blood +which is the wonder as well as the glory of the deserts. I never saw the kind +before, except in the stables of Cæsar; but once seen, they are always to be +known. To-morrow, upon meeting, I will know you, Malluch, though you do not so +much as salute me; I will know you by your face, by your form, by your manner; +and by the same signs I will know them, and with the same certainty. If all +that is said of them be true, and I can bring their spirit under control of +mine, I can—” +</p> + +<p> +“Win the sestertii!” said Malluch, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Ben-Hur, as quickly. “I will do what better +becomes a man born to the heritage of Jacob—I will humble mine enemy in a +most public place. But,” he added, impatiently, “we are losing +time. How can we most quickly reach the tents of the sheik?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch took a moment for reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“It is best we go straight to the village, which is fortunately near by; +if two swift camels are to be had for hire there, we will be on the road but an +hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us about it, then.” +</p> + +<p> +The village was an assemblage of palaces in beautiful gardens, interspersed +with khans of princely sort. Dromedaries were happily secured, and upon them +the journey to the famous Orchard of Palms was begun. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +Beyond the village the country was undulating and cultivated; in fact, it was +the garden-land of Antioch, with not a foot lost to labor. The steep faces of +the hills were terraced; even the hedges were brighter of the trailing vines +which, besides the lure of shade, offered passers-by sweet promises of wine to +come, and grapes in clustered purple ripeness. Over melon-patches, and through +apricot and fig-tree groves, and groves of oranges and limes, the white-washed +houses of the farmers were seen; and everywhere Plenty, the smiling daughter of +Peace, gave notice by her thousand signs that she was at home, making the +generous traveller merry at heart, until he was even disposed to give Rome her +dues. Occasionally, also, views were had of Taurus and Lebanon, between which, +a separating line of silver, the Orontes placidly pursued its way. +</p> + +<p> +In course of their journey the friends came to the river, which they followed +with the windings of the road, now over bold bluffs, and then into vales, all +alike allotted for country-seats, and if the land was in full foliage of oak +and sycamore and myrtle, and bay and arbutus, and perfuming jasmine, the river +was bright with slanted sunlight, which would have slept where it fell but for +ships in endless procession, gliding with the current, tacking for the wind, or +bounding under the impulse of oars—some coming, some going, and all +suggestive of the sea, and distant peoples, and famous places, and things +coveted on account of their rarity. To the fancy there is nothing so winsome as +a white sail seaward blown, unless it be a white sail homeward bound, its +voyage happily done. And down the shore the friends went continuously till they +came to a lake fed by back-water from the river, clear, deep, and without +current. An old palm-tree dominated the angle of the inlet; turning to the left +at the foot of the tree, Malluch clapped his hands and shouted, +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look! The Orchard of Palms!” +</p> + +<p> +The scene was nowhere else to be found unless in the favored oases of Arabia or +the Ptolemaean farms along the Nile; and to sustain a sensation new as it was +delightful, Ben-Hur was admitted into a tract of land apparently without limit +and level as a floor. All under foot was fresh grass, in Syria the rarest and +most beautiful production of the soil; if he looked up, it was to see the sky +paley blue through the groinery of countless date-bearers, very patriarchs of +their kind, so numerous and old, and of such mighty girth, so tall, so serried, +so wide of branch, each branch so perfect with fronds, plumy and waxlike and +brilliant, they seemed enchanters enchanted. Here was the grass coloring the +very atmosphere; there the lake, cool and clear, rippling but a few feet under +the surface, and helping the trees to their long life in old age. Did the Grove +of Daphne excel this one? And the palms, as if they knew Ben-Hur’s +thought, and would win him after a way of their own, seemed, as he passed under +their arches, to stir and sprinkle him with dewy coolness. +</p> + +<p> +The road wound in close parallelism with the shore of the lake; and when it +carried the travellers down to the water’s edge, there was always on that +side a shining expanse limited not far off by the opposite shore, on which, as +on this one, no tree but the palm was permitted. +</p> + +<p> +“See that,” said Malluch, pointing to a giant of the place. +“Each ring upon its trunk marks a year of its life. Count them from root +to branch, and if the sheik tells you the grove was planted before the +Seleucidæ were heard of in Antioch, do not doubt him.” +</p> + +<p> +One may not look at a perfect palm-tree but that, with a subtlety all its own, +it assumes a presence for itself, and makes a poet of the beholder. This is the +explanation of the honors it has received, beginning with the artists of the +first kings, who could find no form in all the earth to serve them so well as a +model for the pillars of their palaces and temples; and for the same reason +Ben-Hur was moved to say, +</p> + +<p> +“As I saw him at the stand to-day, good Malluch, Sheik Ilderim appeared +to be a very common man. The rabbis in Jerusalem would look down upon him, I +fear, as a son of a dog of Edom. How came he in possession of the Orchard? And +how has he been able to hold it against the greed of Roman governors?” +</p> + +<p> +“If blood derives excellence from time, son of Arrius, then is old +Ilderim a man, though he be an uncircumcised Edomite.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch spoke warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“All his fathers before him were sheiks. One of them—I shall not +say when he lived or did the good deed—once helped a king who was being +hunted with swords. The story says he loaned him a thousand horsemen, who knew +the paths of the wilderness and its hiding-places as shepherds know the scant +hills they inhabit with their flocks; and they carried him here and there until +the opportunity came, and then with their spears they slew the enemy, and set +him upon his throne again. And the king, it is said, remembered the service, +and brought the son of the Desert to this place, and bade him set up his tent +and bring his family and his herds, for the lake and trees, and all the land +from the river to the nearest mountains, were his and his children’s +forever. And they have never been disturbed in the possession. The rulers +succeeding have found it policy to keep good terms with the tribe, to whom the +Lord has given increase of men and horses, and camels and riches, making them +masters of many highways between cities; so that it is with them any time they +please to say to commerce, ‘Go in peace,’ or ‘Stop,’ +and what they say shall be done. Even the prefect in the citadel overlooking +Antioch thinks it happy day with him when Ilderim, surnamed the Generous on +account of good deeds done unto all manner of men, with his wives and children, +and his trains of camels and horses, and his belongings of sheik, moving as our +fathers Abraham and Jacob moved, comes up to exchange briefly his bitter wells +for the pleasantness you see about us.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is it, then?” said Ben-Hur, who had been listening unmindful +of the slow gait of the dromedaries. “I saw the sheik tear his beard +while he cursed himself that he had put trust in a Roman. Cæsar, had he heard +him, might have said, ‘I like not such a friend as this; put him +away.’” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be but shrewd judgment,” Malluch replied, smiling. +“Ilderim is not a lover of Rome; he has a grievance. Three years ago the +Parthians rode across the road from Bozra to Damascus, and fell upon a caravan +laden, among other things, with the incoming tax-returns of a district over +that way. They slew every creature taken, which the censors in Rome could have +forgiven if the imperial treasure had been spared and forwarded. The farmers of +the taxes, being chargeable with the loss, complained to Cæsar, and Cæsar +held Herod to payment, and Herod, on his part, seized property of Ilderim, whom +he charged with treasonable neglect of duty. The sheik appealed to Cæsar, and +Cæsar has made him such answer as might be looked for from the unwinking +sphinx. The old man’s heart has been aching sore ever since, and he +nurses his wrath, and takes pleasure in its daily growth.” +</p> + +<p> +“He can do nothing, Malluch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Malluch, “that involves another explanation, +which I will give you, if we can draw nearer. But see!—the hospitality of +the sheik begins early—the children are speaking to you.” +</p> + +<p> +The dromedaries stopped, and Ben-Hur looked down upon some little girls of the +Syrian peasant class, who were offering him their baskets filled with dates. +The fruit was freshly gathered, and not to be refused; he stooped and took it, +and as he did so a man in the tree by which they were halted cried, +“Peace to you, and welcome!” +</p> + +<p> +Their thanks said to the children, the friends moved on at such gait as the +animals chose. +</p> + +<p> +“You must know,” Malluch continued, pausing now and then to dispose +of a date, “that the merchant Simonides gives me his confidence, and +sometimes flatters me by taking me into council; and as I attend him at his +house, I have made acquaintance with many of his friends, who, knowing my +footing with the host, talk to him freely in my presence. In that way I became +somewhat intimate with Sheik Ilderim.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Ben-Hur’s attention wandered. Before his mind’s eye +there arose the image, pure, gentle, and appealing, of Esther, the +merchant’s daughter. Her dark eyes bright with the peculiar Jewish lustre +met his in modest gaze; he heard her step as when she approached him with the +wine, and her voice as she tendered him the cup; and he acknowledged to himself +again all the sympathy she manifested for him, and manifested so plainly that +words were unnecessary, and so sweetly that words would have been but a +detraction. The vision was exceeding pleasant, but upon his turning to Malluch, +it flew away. +</p> + +<p> +“A few weeks ago,” said Malluch, continuing, “the old Arab +called on Simonides, and found me present. I observed he seemed much moved +about something, and, in deference, offered to withdraw, but he himself forbade +me. ‘As you are an Israelite,’ he said, ‘stay, for I have a +strange story to tell.’ The emphasis on the word Israelite excited my +curiosity. I remained, and this is in substance his story—I cut it short +because we are drawing nigh the tent, and I leave the details to the good man +himself. A good many years ago, three men called at Ilderim’s tent out in +the wilderness. They were all foreigners, a Hindoo, a Greek, and an Egyptian; +and they had come on camels, the largest he had ever seen, and all white. He +welcomed them, and gave them rest. Next morning they arose and prayed a prayer +new to the sheik—a prayer addressed to God and his son—this with +much mystery besides. After breaking fast with him, the Egyptian told who they +were, and whence they had come. Each had seen a star, out of which a voice had +bidden them go to Jerusalem and ask, Where is he that is born King of the +Jews?’ They obeyed. From Jerusalem they were led by a star to Bethlehem, +where, in a cave, they found a child newly born, which they fell down and +worshipped; and after worshipping it, and giving it costly presents, and +bearing witness of what it was, they took to their camels, and fled without +pause to the sheik, because if Herod—meaning him surnamed the +Great—could lay hands upon them, he would certainly kill them. And, +faithful to his habit, the sheik took care of them, and kept them concealed for +a year, when they departed, leaving with him gifts of great value, and each +going a separate way.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, indeed, a most wonderful story,” Ben-Hur exclaimed at its +conclusion. “What did you say they were to ask at Jerusalem?” +</p> + +<p> +“They were to ask, ‘Where is he that is born King of the +Jews?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that all?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was more to the question, but I cannot recall it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And they found the child?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and worshipped him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a miracle, Malluch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ilderim is a grave man, though excitable as all Arabs are. A lie on his +tongue is impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch spoke positively. Thereupon the dromedaries were forgotten, and, quite +as unmindful of their riders, they turned off the road to the growing grass. +</p> + +<p> +“Has Ilderim heard nothing more of the three men?” asked Ben-Hur. +“What became of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, that was the cause of his coming to Simonides the day of which +I was speaking. Only the night before that day the Egyptian reappeared to +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here at the door of the tent to which we are coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“How knew he the man?” +</p> + +<p> +“As you knew the horses to-day—by face and manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“By nothing else?” +</p> + +<p> +“He rode the same great white camel, and gave him the same +name—Balthasar, the Egyptian.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a wonder of the Lord’s!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur spoke with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +And Malluch, wondering, asked, “Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Balthasar, you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Balthasar, the Egyptian.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the name the old man gave us at the fountain today.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, at the reminder, Malluch became excited. +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” he said; “and the camel was the same—and +you saved the man’s life.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the woman,” said Ben-Hur, like one speaking to +himself—“the woman was his daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +He fell to thinking; and even the reader will say he was having a vision of the +woman, and that it was more welcome than that of Esther, if only because it +stayed longer with him; but no— +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me again,” he said, presently. “Were the three to ask, +‘Where is he that is to be King of the Jews?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly. The words were BORN TO BE KING OF THE JEWS. Those were the +words as the old sheik caught them first in the desert, and he has ever since +been waiting the coming of the king; nor can any one shake his faith that he +will come.” +</p> + +<p> +“How—as king?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and bringing the doom of Rome—so says the sheik.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur kept silent awhile, thinking and trying to control his feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“The old man is one of many millions,” he said, +slowly—“one of many millions each with a wrong to avenge; and this +strange faith, Malluch, is bread and wine to his hope; for who but a Herod may +be King of the Jews while Rome endures? But, following the story, did you hear +what Simonides said to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“If Ilderim is a grave man, Simonides is a wise one,” Malluch +replied. “I listened, and he said— But hark! Some one comes +overtaking us.” +</p> + +<p> +The noise grew louder, until presently they heard the rumble of wheels mixed +with the beating of horse-hoofs—a moment later Sheik Ilderim himself +appeared on horseback, followed by a train, among which were the four wine-red +Arabs drawing the chariot. The sheik’s chin, in its muffling of long +white beard, was drooped upon his breast. Our friends had out-travelled him; +but at sight of them he raised his head and spoke kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you!—Ah, my friend Malluch! Welcome! And tell me you are +not going, but just come; that you have something for me from the good +Simonides—may the Lord of his fathers keep him in life for many years to +come! Ay, take up the straps, both of you, and follow me. I have bread and +leben, or, if you prefer it, arrack, and the flesh of young kid. Come!” +</p> + +<p> +They followed after him to the door of the tent, in which, when they were +dismounted, he stood to receive them, holding a platter with three cups filled +with creamy liquor just drawn from a great smoke-stained skin bottle, pendent +from the central post. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink,” he said, heartily, “drink, for this is the +fear-naught of the tentmen.” +</p> + +<p> +They each took a cup, and drank till but the foam remained. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter now, in God’s name.” +</p> + +<p> +And when they were gone in, Malluch took the sheik aside, and spoke to him +privately; after which he went to Ben-Hur and excused himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told the sheik about you, and he will give you the trial of his +horses in the morning. He is your friend. Having done for you all I can, you +must do the rest, and let me return to Antioch. There is one there who has my +promise to meet him to-night. I have no choice but to go. I will come back +to-morrow prepared, if all goes well in the meantime, to stay with you until +the games are over.” +</p> + +<p> +With blessings given and received, Malluch set out in return. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +What time the lower horn of a new moon touched the castellated piles on Mount +Sulpius, and two thirds of the people of Antioch were out on their house-tops +comforting themselves with the night breeze when it blew, and with fans when it +failed, Simonides sat in the chair which had come to be a part of him, and from +the terrace looked down over the river, and his ships a-swing at their +moorings. The wall at his back cast its shadow broadly over the water to the +opposite shore. Above him the endless tramp upon the bridge went on. Esther was +holding a plate for him containing his frugal supper—some wheaten cakes, +light as wafers, some honey, and a bowl of milk, into which he now and then +dipped the wafers after dipping them into the honey. +</p> + +<p> +“Malluch is a laggard to-night,” he said, showing where his +thoughts were. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe he will come?” Esther asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Unless he has taken to the sea or the desert, and is yet following on, +he will come.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides spoke with quiet confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“He may write,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Esther. He would have despatched a letter when he found he could +not return, and told me so; because I have not received such a letter, I know +he can come, and will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so,” she said, very softly. +</p> + +<p> +Something in the utterance attracted his attention; it might have been the +tone, it might have been the wish. The smallest bird cannot light upon the +greatest tree without sending a shock to its most distant fibre; every mind is +at times no less sensitive to the most trifling words. +</p> + +<p> +“You wish him to come, Esther?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said, lifting her eyes to his. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Can you tell me?” he persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Because”—she hesitated, then began +again—“because the young man is—” The stop was full. +</p> + +<p> +“Our master. Is that the word?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you still think I should not suffer him to go away without telling +him to come, if he chooses, and take us—and all we have—all, +Esther—the goods, the shekels, the ships, the slaves, and the mighty +credit, which is a mantle of cloth of gold and finest silver spun for me by the +greatest of the angels of men—Success.” +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Does that move you nothing? No?” he said, with the slightest taint +of bitterness. “Well, well, I have found, Esther, the worst reality is +never unendurable when it comes out from behind the clouds through which we at +first see it darkly—never—not even the rack. I suppose it will be +so with death. And by that philosophy the slavery to which we are going must +afterwhile become sweet. It pleases me even now to think what a favored man our +master is. The fortune cost him nothing—not an anxiety, not a drop of +sweat, not so much as a thought; it attaches to him undreamed of, and in his +youth. And, Esther, let me waste a little vanity with the reflection; he gets +what he could not go into the market and buy with all the pelf in a +sum—thee, my child, my darling; thou blossom from the tomb of my lost +Rachel!” +</p> + +<p> +He drew her to him, and kissed her twice—once for herself, once for her +mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Say not so,” she said, when his hand fell from her neck. +“Let us think better of him; he knows what sorrow is, and will set us +free.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, thy instincts are fine, Esther; and thou knowest I lean upon them in +doubtful cases where good or bad is to be pronounced of a person standing +before thee as he stood this morning. But—but”—his voice rose +and hardened—“these limbs upon which I cannot stand—this body +drawn and beaten out of human shape—they are not all I bring him of +myself. Oh no, no! I bring him a soul which has triumphed over torture and +Roman malice keener than any torture—I bring him a mind which has eyes to +see gold at a distance farther than the ships of Solomon sailed, and power to +bring it to hand—ay, Esther, into my palm here for the fingers to grip +and keep lest it take wings at some other’s word—a mind skilled at +scheming”—he stopped and laughed—“Why, Esther, before +the new moon which in the courts of the Temple on the Holy Hill they are this +moment celebrating passes into its next quartering I could ring the world so as +to startle even Cæsar; for know you, child, I have that faculty which is +better than any one sense, better than a perfect body, better than courage and +will, better than experience, ordinarily the best product of the longest +lives—the faculty divinest of men, but which”—he stopped, and +laughed again, not bitterly, but with real zest—“but which even the +great do not sufficiently account, while with the herd it is a +non-existent—the faculty of drawing men to my purpose and holding them +faithfully to its achievement, by which, as against things to be done, I +multiply myself into hundreds and thousands. So the captains of my ships plough +the seas, and bring me honest returns; so Malluch follows the youth, our +master, and will”—just then a footstep was heard upon the +terrace—“Ha, Esther! said I not so? He is here—and we will +have tidings. For thy sake, sweet child—my lily just budded—I pray +the Lord God, who has not forgotten his wandering sheep of Israel, that they be +good and comforting. Now we will know if he will let thee go with all thy +beauty, and me with all my faculties.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch came to the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, good master,” he said, with a low +obeisance—“and to you, Esther, most excellent of daughters.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood before them deferentially, and the attitude and the address left it +difficult to define his relation to them; the one was that of a servant, the +other indicated the familiar and friend. On the other side, Simonides, as was +his habit in business, after answering the salutation went straight to the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“What of the young man, Malluch?” +</p> + +<p> +The events of the day were told quietly and in the simplest words, and until he +was through there was no interruption; nor did the listener in the chair so +much as move a hand during the narration; but for his eyes, wide open and +bright, and an occasional long-drawn breath, he might have been accounted an +effigy. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, thank you, Malluch,” he said, heartily, at the +conclusion; “you have done well—no one could have done better. Now +what say you of the young man’s nationality?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is an Israelite, good master, and of the tribe of Judah.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are positive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very positive.” +</p> + +<p> +“He appears to have told you but little of his life.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has somewhere learned to be prudent. I might call him distrustful. He +baffled all my attempts upon his confidence until we started from the Castalian +fount going to the village of Daphne.” +</p> + +<p> +“A place of abomination! Why went he there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would say from curiosity, the first motive of the many who go; but, +very strangely, he took no interest in the things he saw. Of the Temple, he +merely asked if it were Grecian. Good master, the young man has a trouble of +mind from which he would hide, and he went to the Grove, I think, as we go to +sepulchres with our dead—he went to bury it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That were well, if so,” Simonides said, in a low voice; then +louder, “Malluch, the curse of the time is prodigality. The poor make +themselves poorer as apes of the rich, and the merely rich carry themselves +like princes. Saw you signs of the weakness in the youth? Did he display +moneys—coin of Rome or Israel?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, none, good master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Malluch, where there are so many inducements to folly—so +much, I mean, to eat and drink—surely he made you generous offer of some +sort. His age, if nothing more, would warrant that much.” +</p> + +<p> +“He neither ate nor drank in my company.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what he said or did, Malluch, could you in anywise detect his +master-idea? You know they peep through cracks close enough to stop the +wind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me to understand you,” said Malluch, in doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know we nor speak nor act, much less decide grave questions +concerning ourselves, except as we be driven by a motive. In that respect, what +made you of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“As to that, Master Simonides, I can answer with much assurance. He is +devoted to finding his mother and sister—that first. Then he has a +grievance against Rome; and as the Messala of whom I told you had something to +do with the wrong, the great present object is to humiliate him. The meeting at +the fountain furnished an opportunity, but it was put aside as not sufficiently +public.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Messala is influential,” said Simonides, thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but the next meeting will be in the Circus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—and then?” +</p> + +<p> +“The son of Arrius will win.” +</p> + +<p> +“How know you?” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I am judging by what he says.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; there is a much better sign—his spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay; but, Malluch, his idea of vengeance—what is its scope? Does he +limit it to the few who did him the wrong, or does he take in the many? And +more—is his feeling but the vagary of a sensitive boy, or has it the +seasoning of suffering manhood to give it endurance? You know, Malluch, the +vengeful thought that has root merely in the mind is but a dream of idlest sort +which one clear day will dissipate; while revenge the passion is a disease of +the heart which climbs up, up to the brain, and feeds itself on both +alike.” +</p> + +<p> +In this question, Simonides for the first time showed signs of feeling; he +spoke with rapid utterance, and with clenched hands and the eagerness of a man +illustrating the disease he described. +</p> + +<p> +“Good my master,” Malluch replied, “one of my reasons for +believing the young man a Jew is the intensity of his hate. It was plain to me +he had himself under watch, as was natural, seeing how long he has lived in an +atmosphere of Roman jealousy; yet I saw it blaze—once when he wanted to +know Ilderim’s feeling towards Rome, and again when I told him the story +of the sheik and the wise man, and spoke of the question, ‘Where is he +that is born King of the Jews?’” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides leaned forward quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Malluch, his words—give me his words; let me judge the +impression the mystery made upon him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wanted to know the exact words. Were they TO BE or BORN TO BE? It +appeared he was struck by a seeming difference in the effect of the two +phrases.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides settled back into his pose of listening judge. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Malluch, “I told him Ilderim’s view of the +mystery—that the king would come with the doom of Rome. The young +man’s blood rose over his cheeks and forehead, and he said earnestly, +‘Who but a Herod can be king while Rome endures?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Meaning what?” +</p> + +<p> +“That the empire must be destroyed before there could be another +rule.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides gazed for a time at the ships and their shadows slowly swinging +together in the river; when he looked up, it was to end the interview. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, Malluch,” he said. “Get you to eat, and make ready +to return to the Orchard of Palms; you must help the young man in his coming +trial. Come to me in the morning. I will send a letter to Ilderim.” Then +in an undertone, as if to himself, he added, “I may attend the Circus +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +When Malluch after the customary benediction given and received was gone, +Simonides took a deep draught of milk, and seemed refreshed and easy of mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Put the meal down, Esther,” he said; “it is over.” +</p> + +<p> +She obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Here now.” +</p> + +<p> +She resumed her place upon the arm of the chair close to him. +</p> + +<p> +“God is good to me, very good,” he said, fervently. “His +habit is to move in mystery, yet sometimes he permits us to think we see and +understand him. I am old, dear, and must go; but now, in this eleventh hour, +when my hope was beginning to die, he sends me this one with a promise, and I +am lifted up. I see the way to a great part in a circumstance itself so great +that it shall be as a new birth to the whole world. And I see a reason for the +gift of my great riches, and the end for which they were designed. Verily, my +child, I take hold on life anew.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther nestled closer to him, as if to bring his thoughts from their +far-flying. +</p> + +<p> +“The king has been born” he continued, imagining he was still +speaking to her, “and he must be near the half of common life. Balthasar +says he was a child on his mother’s lap when he saw him, and gave him +presents and worship; and Ilderim holds it was twenty-seven years ago last +December when Balthasar and his companions came to his tent asking a +hiding-place from Herod. Wherefore the coming cannot now be long delayed. +To-night—to-morrow it may be. Holy fathers of Israel, what happiness in +the thought! I seem to hear the crash of the falling of old walls and the +clamor of a universal change—ay, and for the uttermost joy of men, the +earth opens to take Rome in, and they look up and laugh and sing that she is +not, while we are;” then he laughed at himself. “Why, Esther, heard +you ever the like? Surely, I have on me the passion of a singer, the heat of +blood and the thrill of Miriam and David. In my thoughts, which should be those +of a plain worker in figures and facts, there is a confusion of cymbals +clashing and harp-strings loud beaten, and the voices of a multitude standing +around a new-risen throne. I will put the thinking by for the present; only, +dear, when the king comes he will need money and men, for as he was a child +born of woman he will be but a man after all, bound to human ways as you and I +are. And for the money he will have need of getters and keepers, and for the +men leaders. There, there! See you not a broad road for my walking, and the +running of the youth our master?—and at the end of it glory and revenge +for us both?—and—and”—he paused, struck with the +selfishness of a scheme in which she had no part or good result; then added, +kissing her, “And happiness for thy mother’s child.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat still, saying nothing. Then he remembered the difference in natures, +and the law by which we are not permitted always to take delight in the same +cause or be equally afraid of the same thing. He remembered she was but a girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what are you thinking, Esther?” he said, in his common +home-like way. “If the thought have the form of a wish, give it me, +little one, while the power remains mine. For power, you know, is a fretful +thing, and hath its wings always spread for flight.” +</p> + +<p> +She answered with a simplicity almost childish, +</p> + +<p> +“Send for him, father. Send for him to-night, and do not let him go into +the Circus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” he said, prolonging the exclamation; and again his eyes fell +upon the river, where the shadows were more shadowy than ever, since the moon +had sunk far down behind Sulpius, leaving the city to the ineffectual stars. +Shall we say it, reader? He was touched by a twinge of jealousy. If she should +really love the young master! Oh no! That could not be; she was too young. But +the idea had fast grip, and directly held him still and cold. She was sixteen. +He knew it well. On the last natal day he had gone with her to the shipyard +where there was a launch, and the yellow flag which the galley bore to its +bridal with the waves had on it “Esther;” so they celebrated the +day together. Yet the fact struck him now with the force of a surprise. There +are realizations which come to us all painfully; mostly, however, such as +pertain to ourselves; that we are growing old, for instance; and, more +terrible, that we must die. Such a one crept into his heart, shadowy as the +shadows, yet substantial enough to wring from him a sigh which was almost a +groan. It was not sufficient that she should enter upon her young womanhood a +servant, but she must carry to her master her affections, the truth and +tenderness and delicacy of which he the father so well knew, because to this +time they had all been his own undividedly. The fiend whose task it is to +torture us with fears and bitter thoughts seldom does his work by halves. In +the pang of the moment, the brave old man lost sight of his new scheme, and of +the miraculous king its subject. By a mighty effort, however, he controlled +himself, and asked, calmly, “Not go into the Circus, Esther? Why, +child?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a place for a son of Israel, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rabbinical, rabbinical, Esther! Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +The tone of the inquiry was searching, and went to her heart, which began to +beat loudly—so loudly she could not answer. A confusion new and strangely +pleasant fell upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“The young man is to have the fortune,” he said, taking her hand, +and speaking more tenderly; “he is to have the ships and the +shekels—all, Esther, all. Yet I did not feel poor, for thou wert left me, +and thy love so like the dead Rachel’s. Tell me, is he to have that +too?” +</p> + +<p> +She bent over him, and laid her cheek against his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, Esther. I will be the stronger of the knowledge. In warning there +is strength.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat up then, and spoke as if she were Truth’s holy self. +</p> + +<p> +“Comfort thee, father. I will never leave thee; though he take my love, I +will be thy handmaid ever as now.” +</p> + +<p> +And, stooping, she kissed him. +</p> + +<p> +“And more,” she said, continuing: “he is comely in my sight, +and the pleading of his voice drew me to him, and I shudder to think of him in +danger. Yes, father, I would be more than glad to see him again. Still, the +love that is unrequited cannot be perfect love, wherefore I will wait a time, +remembering I am thy daughter and my mother’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very blessing of the Lord art thou, Esther! A blessing to keep me +rich, though all else be lost. And by his holy name and everlasting life, I +swear thou shalt not suffer.” +</p> + +<p> +At his request, a little later, the servant came and rolled the chair into the +room, where he sat for a time thinking of the coming of the king, while she +went off and slept the sleep of the innocent. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap39"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +The palace across the river nearly opposite Simonides’ place is said to +have been completed by the famous Epiphanes, and was all such a habitation can +be imagined; though he was a builder whose taste ran to the immense rather than +the classical, now so called—an architectural imitator, in other words, +of the Persians instead of the Greeks. +</p> + +<p> +The wall enclosing the whole island to the waters edge, and built for the +double purpose of bulwark against the river and defence against the mob, was +said to have rendered the palace unfit for constant occupancy, insomuch that +the legates abandoned it and moved to another residence erected for them on the +western ridge of Mount Sulpius, under the Temple of Jupiter. Persons were not +wanting, however, who flatly denied the bill against the ancient abode. They +said, with shrewdness at least, that the real object of the removal of the +legates was not a more healthful locality, but the assurance afforded them by +the huge barracks, named, according to the prevalent style, citadel, situated +just over the way on the eastern ridge of the mount. And the opinion had +plausible showing. Among other pertinent things, it was remarked that the +palace was kept in perpetual readiness for use; and when a consul, general of +the army, king, or visiting potentate of any kind arrived at Antioch, quarters +were at once assigned him on the island. +</p> + +<p> +As we have to do with but one apartment in the old pile, the residue of it is +left to the reader’s fancy; and as pleases him, he may go through its +gardens, baths, halls, and labyrinth of rooms to the pavilions on the roof, all +furnished as became a house of fame in a city which was more nearly +Milton’s “gorgeous East” than any other in the world. +</p> + +<p> +At this age the apartment alluded to would be termed a saloon. It was quite +spacious, floored with polished marble slabs, and lighted in the day by +skylights in which colored mica served as glass. The walls were broken by +Atlantes, no two of which were alike, but all supporting a cornice wrought with +arabesques exceedingly intricate in form, and more elegant on account of +superadditions of color—blue, green, Tyrian purple, and gold. Around the +room ran a continuous divan of Indian silks and wool of Cashmere. The furniture +consisted of tables and stools of Egyptian patterns grotesquely carved. We have +left Simonides in his chair perfecting his scheme in aid of the miraculous +king, whose coming he has decided is so close at hand. Esther is asleep; and +now, having crossed the river by the bridge, and made way through the +lion-guarded gate and a number of Babylonian halls and courts, let us enter the +gilded saloon. +</p> + +<p> +There are five chandeliers hanging by sliding bronze chains from the +ceiling—one in each corner, and in the centre one—enormous pyramids +of lighted lamps, illuminating even the demoniac faces of the Atlantes and the +complex tracery of the cornice. About the tables, seated or standing, or moving +restlessly from one to another, there are probably a hundred persons, whom we +must study at least for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +They are all young, some of them little more than boys. That they are Italians +and mostly Romans is past doubt. They all speak Latin in purity, while each one +appears in the in-door dress of the great capital on the Tiber; that is, in +tunics short of sleeve and skirt, a style of vesture well adapted to the +climate of Antioch, and especially comfortable in the too close atmosphere of +the saloon. On the divan here and there togas and lacernae lie where they have +been carelessly tossed, some of them significantly bordered with purple. On the +divan also lie sleepers stretched at ease; whether they were overcome by the +heat and fatigue of the sultry day or by Bacchus we will not pause to inquire. +</p> + +<p> +The hum of voices is loud and incessant. Sometimes there is an explosion of +laughter, sometimes a burst of rage or exultation; but over all prevails a +sharp, prolonged rattle, at first somewhat confusing to the non-familiar. If we +approach the tables, however, the mystery solves itself. The company is at the +favorite games, draughts and dice, singly or together, and the rattle is merely +of the tesserae, or ivory cubes, loudly shaken, and the moving of the hostes on +the checkered boards. +</p> + +<p> +Who are the company? +</p> + +<p> +“Good Flavius,” said a player, holding his piece in suspended +movement, “thou seest yon lacerna; that one in front of us on the divan. +It is fresh from the shop, and hath a shoulder-buckle of gold broad as a +palm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Flavius, intent upon his game, “I have seen such +before; wherefore thine may not be old, yet, by the girdle of Venus, it is not +new! What of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing. Only I would give it to find a man who knows everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! For something cheaper, I will find thee here several with purple +who will take thy offer. But play.” +</p> + +<p> +“There—check!” +</p> + +<p> +“So, by all the Jupiters! Now, what sayest thou? Again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the wager?” +</p> + +<p> +“A sestertium.” +</p> + +<p> +Then each drew his tablets and stilus and made a memorandum; and, while they +were resetting the pieces, Flavius returned to his friend’s remark. +</p> + +<p> +“A man who knows everything! Hercle! the oracles would die. What wouldst +thou with such a monster?” +</p> + +<p> +“Answer to one question, my Flavius; then, perpol! I would cut his +throat.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the question?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would have him tell me the hour— Hour, said I?—nay, the +minute—Maxentius will arrive to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good play, good play! I have you! And why the minute?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hast thou ever stood uncovered in the Syrian sun on the quay at which he +will land? The fires of the Vesta are not so hot; and, by the Stator of our +father Romulus, I would die, if die I must, in Rome. Avernus is here; there, in +the square before the Forum, I could stand, and, with my hand raised thus, +touch the floor of the gods. Ha, by Venus, my Flavius, thou didst beguile me! I +have lost. O Fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +“Again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have back my sestertium.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so.” +</p> + +<p> +And they played again and again; and when day, stealing through the skylights, +began to dim the lamps, it found the two in the same places at the same table, +still at the game. Like most of the company, they were military attaches of the +consul, awaiting his arrival and amusing themselves meantime. +</p> + +<p> +During this conversation a party entered the room, and, unnoticed at first, +proceeded to the central table. The signs were that they had come from a revel +just dismissed. Some of them kept their feet with difficulty. Around the +leader’s brow was a chaplet which marked him master of the feast, if not +the giver. The wine had made no impression upon him unless to heighten his +beauty, which was of the most manly Roman style; he carried his head high +raised; the blood flushed his lips and cheeks brightly; his eyes glittered; +though the manner in which, shrouded in a toga spotless white and of ample +folds, he walked was too nearly imperial for one sober and not a Cæsar. In +going to the table, he made room for himself and his followers with little +ceremony and no apologies; and when at length he stopped, and looked over it +and at the players, they all turned to him, with a shout like a cheer. +</p> + +<p> +“Messala! Messala!” they cried. +</p> + +<p> +Those in distant quarters, hearing the cry, re-echoed it where they were. +Instantly there were dissolution of groups, and breaking-up of games, and a +general rush towards the centre. +</p> + +<p> +Messala took the demonstration indifferently, and proceeded presently to show +the ground of his popularity. +</p> + +<p> +“A health to thee, Drusus, my friend,” he said to the player next +at his right; “a health—and thy tablets a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised the waxen boards, glanced at the memoranda of wagers, and tossed them +down. +</p> + +<p> +“Denarii, only denarii—coin of cartmen and butchers!” he +said, with a scornful laugh. “By the drunken Semele, to what is Rome +coming, when a Cæsar sits o’ nights waiting a turn of fortune to bring +him but a beggarly denarius!” +</p> + +<p> +The scion of the Drusi reddened to his brows, but the bystanders broke in upon +his reply by surging closer around the table, and shouting, “The Messala! +the Messala!” +</p> + +<p> +“Men of the Tiber,” Messala continued, wresting a box with the dice +in it from a hand near-by, “who is he most favored of the gods? A Roman. +Who is he lawgiver of the nations? A Roman. Who is he, by sword right, the +universal master?” +</p> + +<p> +The company were of the easily inspired, and the thought was one to which they +were born; in a twinkling they snatched the answer from him. +</p> + +<p> +“A Roman, a Roman!” they shouted. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet—yet”—he lingered to catch their +ears—“yet there is a better than the best of Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +He tossed his patrician head and paused, as if to sting them with his sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear ye?” he asked. “There is a better than the best of +Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay—Hercules!” cried one. +</p> + +<p> +“Bacchus!” yelled a satirist. +</p> + +<p> +“Jove—Jove!” thundered the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Messala answered, “among men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Name him, name him!” they demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” he said, the next lull. “He who to the perfection +of Rome hath added the perfection of the East; who to the arm of conquest, +which is Western, hath also the art needful to the enjoyment of dominion, which +is Eastern.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perpol! His best is a Roman, after all,” some one shouted; and +there was a great laugh, and long clapping of hands—an admission that +Messala had the advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“In the East” he continued, “we have no gods, only Wine, +Women, and Fortune, and the greatest of them is Fortune; wherefore our motto, +‘Who dareth what I dare?’—fit for the senate, fit for battle, +fittest for him who, seeking the best, challenges the worst.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice dropped into an easy, familiar tone, but without relaxing the +ascendancy he had gained. +</p> + +<p> +“In the great chest up in the citadel I have five talents coin current in +the markets, and here are the receipts for them.” +</p> + +<p> +From his tunic he drew a roll of paper, and, flinging it on the table, +continued, amidst breathless silence, every eye having him in view fixed on +his, every ear listening: +</p> + +<p> +“The sum lies there the measure of what I dare. Who of you dares so much! +You are silent. Is it too great? I will strike off one talent. What! still +silent? Come, then, throw me once for these three talents—only three; for +two; for one—one at least—one for the honor of the river by which +you were born—Rome East against Rome West!—Orontes the barbarous +against Tiber the sacred!” +</p> + +<p> +He rattled the dice overhead while waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“The Orontes against the Tiber!” he repeated, with an increase of +scornful emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +Not a man moved; then he flung the box upon the table and, laughing, took up +the receipts. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha! By the Olympian Jove, I know now ye have fortunes to make or +to mend; therefore are ye come to Antioch. Ho, Cecilius!” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Messala!” cried a man behind him; “here am I, +perishing in the mob, and begging a drachma to settle with the ragged ferryman. +But, Pluto take me! these new ones have not so much as an obolus among +them.” +</p> + +<p> +The sally provoked a burst of laughter, under which the saloon rang and rang +again. Messala alone kept his gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, thou,” he said to Cecilius, “to the chamber whence we +came, and bid the servants bring the amphorae here, and the cups and goblets. +If these our countrymen, looking for fortune, have not purses, by the Syrian +Bacchus, I will see if they are not better blessed with stomachs! Haste +thee!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned to Drusus, with a laugh heard throughout the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, my friend! Be thou not offended because I levelled the Cæsar in +thee down to the denarii. Thou seest I did but use the name to try these fine +fledglings of our old Rome. Come, my Drusus, come!” He took up the box +again and rattled the dice merrily. “Here, for what sum thou wilt, let us +measure fortunes.” +</p> + +<p> +The manner was frank, cordial, winsome. Drusus melted in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“By the Nymphae, yes!” he said, laughing. “I will throw with +thee, Messala—for a denarius.” +</p> + +<p> +A very boyish person was looking over the table watching the scene. Suddenly +Messala turned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who art thou?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +The lad drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, by Castor! and his brother too! I meant not offence. It is a rule +among men, in matters other than dice, to keep the record closest when the deal +is least. I have need of a clerk. Wilt thou serve me?” +</p> + +<p> +The young fellow drew his tablets ready to keep the score: the manner was +irresistible. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold, Messala, hold!” cried Drusus. “I know not if it be +ominous to stay the poised dice with a question; but one occurs to me, and I +must ask it though Venus slap me with her girdle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my Drusus, Venus with her girdle off is Venus in love. To thy +question—I will make the throw and hold it against mischance. +Thus—” +</p> + +<p> +He turned the box upon the table and held it firmly over the dice. +</p> + +<p> +And Drusus asked, “Did you ever see one Quintus Arrius?” +</p> + +<p> +“The duumvir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—his son?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew not he had a son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is nothing,” Drusus added, indifferently; “only, my +Messala, Pollux was not more like Castor than Arrius is like thee.” +</p> + +<p> +The remark had the effect of a signal: twenty voices took it up. +</p> + +<p> +“True, true! His eyes—his face,” they cried. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” answered one, disgusted. “Messala is a Roman; Arrius +is a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou sayest right,” a third exclaimed. “He is a Jew, or +Momus lent his mother the wrong mask.” +</p> + +<p> +There was promise of a dispute; seeing which, Messala interposed. “The +wine is not come, my Drusus; and, as thou seest, I have the freckled Pythias as +they were dogs in leash. As to Arrius, I will accept thy opinion of him, so +thou tell me more about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, be he Jew or Roman—and, by the great god Pan, I say it not +in disrespect of thy feelings, my Messala!—this Arrius is handsome and +brave and shrewd. The emperor offered him favor and patronage, which he +refused. He came up through mystery, and keepeth distance as if he felt himself +better or knew himself worse than the rest of us. In the palaestrae he was +unmatched; he played with the blue-eyed giants from the Rhine and the hornless +bulls of Sarmatia as they were willow wisps. The duumvir left him vastly rich. +He has a passion for arms, and thinks of nothing but war. Maxentius admitted +him into his family, and he was to have taken ship with us, but we lost him at +Ravenna. Nevertheless he arrived safely. We heard of him this morning. Perpol! +Instead of coming to the palace or going to the citadel, he dropped his baggage +at the khan, and hath disappeared again.” +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of the speech Messala listened with polite indifference; as it +proceeded, he became more attentive; at the conclusion, he took his hand from +the dice-box, and called out, “Ho, my Caius! Dost thou hear?” +</p> + +<p> +A youth at his elbow—his Myrtilus, or comrade, in the day’s chariot +practice—answered, much pleased with the attention, “Did I not, my +Messala, I were not thy friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou remember the man who gave thee the fall to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the love-locks of Bacchus, have I not a bruised shoulder to help me +keep it in mind?” and he seconded the words with a shrug that submerged +his ears. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, be thou grateful to the Fates—I have found thy enemy. +Listen.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Messala turned to Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us more of him—perpol!—of him who is both Jew and +Roman—by Phoebus, a combination to make a Centaur lovely! What garments +doth he affect, my Drusus?” +</p> + +<p> +“Those of the Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hearest thou, Caius?” said Messala. “The fellow is +young—one; he hath the visage of a Roman—two; he loveth best the +garb of a Jew—three; and in the palaestrae fame and fortune come of arms +to throw a horse or tilt a chariot, as the necessity may order—four. And, +Drusus, help thou my friend again. Doubtless this Arrius hath tricks of +language; otherwise he could not so confound himself, to-day a Jew, to-morrow a +Roman; but of the rich tongue of Athene—discourseth he in that as +well?” +</p> + +<p> +“With such purity, Messala, he might have been a contestant in the +Isthmia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou listening, Caius?” said Messala. “The fellow is +qualified to salute a woman—for that matter Aristomache herself—in +the Greek; and as I keep the count, that is five. What sayest thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast found him, my Messala,” Caius answered; “or I am +not myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy pardon, Drusus—and pardon of all—for speaking in riddles +thus,” Messala said, in his winsome way. “By all the decent gods, I +would not strain thy courtesy to the point of breaking, but now help thou me. +See!”—he put his hand on the dice-box again, +laughing—“See how close I hold the Pythias and their secret! Thou +didst speak, I think, of mystery in connection with the coming of the son of +Arrius. Tell me of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis nothing, Messala, nothing,” Drusus replied; “a +child’s story. When Arrius, the father, sailed in pursuit of the pirates, +he was without wife or family; he returned with a boy—him of whom we +speak—and next day adopted him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Adopted him?” Messala repeated. “By the gods, Drusus, thou +dost, indeed, interest me! Where did the duumvir find the boy? And who was +he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who shall answer thee that, Messala? who but the young Arrius himself? +Perpol! in the fight the duumvir—then but a tribune—lost his +galley. A returning vessel found him and one other—all of the crew who +survived—afloat upon the same plank. I give you now the story of the +rescuers, which hath this excellence at least—it hath never been +contradicted. They say, the duumvir’s companion on the plank was a +Jew—” +</p> + +<p> +“A Jew!” echoed Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“And a slave.” +</p> + +<p> +“How Drusus? A slave?” +</p> + +<p> +“When the two were lifted to the deck, the duumvir was in his +tribune’s armor, and the other in the vesture of a rower.” +</p> + +<p> +Messala rose from leaning against the table. +</p> + +<p> +“A galley”—he checked the debasing word, and looked around, +for once in his life at loss. Just then a procession of slaves filed into the +room, some with great jars of wine, others with baskets of fruits and +confections, others again with cups and flagons, mostly silver. There was +inspiration in the sight. Instantly Messala climbed upon a stool. +</p> + +<p> +“Men of the Tiber,” he said, in a clear voice, “let us turn +this waiting for our chief into a feast of Bacchus. Whom choose ye for +master?” +</p> + +<p> +Drusus arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Who shall be master but the giver of the feast?” he said. +“Answer, Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +They gave their reply in a shout. +</p> + +<p> +Messala took the chaplet from his head, gave it to Drusus, who climbed upon the +table, and, in the view of all, solemnly replaced it, making Messala master of +the night. +</p> + +<p> +“There came with me into the room,” he said, “some friends +just risen from table. That our feast may have the approval of sacred custom, +bring hither that one of them most overcome by wine.” +</p> + +<p> +A din of voices answered, “Here he is, here he is!” +</p> + +<p> +And from the floor where he had fallen, a youth was brought forward, so +effeminately beautiful he might have passed for the drinking-god +himself—only the crown would have dropped from his head, and the thyrsus +from his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Lift him upon the table,” the master said. +</p> + +<p> +It was found he could not sit. +</p> + +<p> +“Help him, Drusus, as the fair Nyone may yet help thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Drusus took the inebriate in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +Then addressing the limp figure, Messala said, amidst profound silence, +“O Bacchus! greatest of the gods, be thou propitious to-night. And for +myself, and these thy votaries, I vow this chaplet”—and from his +head he raised it reverently—“I vow this chaplet to thy altar in +the Grove of Daphne.” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed, replaced the crown upon his locks, then stooped and uncovered the +dice, saying, with a laugh, “See, my Drusus, by the ass of Silenus, the +denarius is mine!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a shout that set the floor to quaking, and the grim Atlantes to +dancing, and the orgies began. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap40"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +Sheik Ilderim was a man of too much importance to go about with a small +establishment. He had a reputation to keep with his tribe, such as became a +prince and patriarch of the greatest following in all the Desert east of Syria; +with the people of the cities he had another reputation, which was that of one +of the richest personages not a king in all the East; and, being rich in +fact—in money as well as in servants, camels, horses, and flocks of all +kinds—he took pleasure in a certain state, which, besides magnifying his +dignity with strangers, contributed to his personal pride and comfort. +Wherefore the reader must not be misled by the frequent reference to his tent +in the Orchard of Palms. He had there really a respectable dowar; that is to +say, he had there three large tents—one for himself, one for visitors, +one for his favorite wife and her women; and six or eight lesser ones, occupied +by his servants and such tribal retainers as he had chosen to bring with him as +a body-guard—strong men of approved courage, and skillful with bow, +spear, and horses. +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, his property of whatever kind was in no danger at the Orchard; yet +as the habits of a man go with him to town not less than the country, and as it +is never wise to slip the bands of discipline, the interior of the dowar was +devoted to his cows, camels, goats, and such property in general as might tempt +a lion or a thief. +</p> + +<p> +To do him full justice, Ilderim kept well all the customs of his people, +abating none, not even the smallest; in consequence his life at the Orchard was +a continuation of his life in the Desert; nor that alone, it was a fair +reproduction of the old patriarchal modes—the genuine pastoral life of +primitive Israel. +</p> + +<p> +Recurring to the morning the caravan arrived at the Orchard—“Here, +plant it here,” he said, stopping his horse, and thrusting a spear into +the ground. “Door to the south; the lake before it thus; and these, the +children of the Desert, to sit under at the going-down of the sun.” +</p> + +<p> +At the last words he went to a group of three great palm-trees, and patted one +of them as he would have patted his horse’s neck, or the cheek of the +child of his love. +</p> + +<p> +Who but the sheik could of right say to the caravan, Halt! or of the tent, Here +be it pitched? The spear was wrested from the ground, and over the wound it had +riven in the sod the base of the first pillar of the tent was planted, marking +the centre of the front door. Then eight others were planted—in all, +three rows of pillars, three in a row. Then, at call, the women and children +came, and unfolded the canvas from its packing on the camels. Who might do this +but the women? Had they not sheared the hair from the brown goats of the flock? +and twisted it into thread? and woven the thread into cloth? and stitched the +cloth together, making the perfect roof, dark-brown in fact, though in the +distance black as the tents of Kedar? And, finally, with what jests and +laughter, and pulls altogether, the united following of the sheik stretched the +canvas from pillar to pillar, driving the stakes and fastening the cords as +they went! And when the walls of open reed matting were put in place—the +finishing-touch to the building after the style of the Desert—with what +hush of anxiety they waited the good man’s judgment! When he walked in +and out, looking at the house in connection with the sun, the trees, and the +lake, and said, rubbing his hands with might of heartiness, “Well done! +Make the dowar now as ye well know, and to-night we will sweeten the bread with +arrack, and the milk with honey, and at every fire there shall be a kid. God +with ye! Want of sweet water there shall not be, for the lake is our well; +neither shall the bearers of burden hunger, or the least of the flock, for here +is green pasture also. God with you all, my children! Go.” +</p> + +<p> +And, shouting, the many happy went their ways then to pitch their own +habitations. A few remained to arrange the interior for the sheik; and of these +the men-servants hung a curtain to the central row of pillars, making two +apartments; the one on the right sacred to Ilderim himself, the other sacred to +his horses—his jewels of Solomon—which they led in, and with kisses +and love-taps set at liberty. Against the middle pillar they then erected the +arms-rack, and filled it with javelins and spears, and bows, arrows, and +shields; outside of them hanging the master’s sword, modelled after the +new moon; and the glitter of its blade rivalled the glitter of the jewels +bedded in its grip. Upon one end of the rack they hung the housings of the +horses, gay some of them as the livery of a king’s servant, while on the +other end they displayed the great man’s wearing apparel—his robes +woollen and robes linen, his tunics and trousers, and many colored kerchiefs +for the head. Nor did they give over the work until he pronounced it well. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the women drew out and set up the divan, more indispensable to him +than the beard down-flowing over his breast, white as Aaron’s. They put a +frame together in shape of three sides of a square, the opening to the door, +and covered it with cushions and base curtains, and the cushions with a +changeable spread striped brown and yellow; at the corners they placed pillows +and bolsters sacked in cloth blue and crimson; then around the divan they laid +a margin of carpet, and the inner space they carpeted as well; and when the +carpet was carried from the opening of the divan to the door of the tent, their +work was done; whereupon they again waited until the master said it was good. +Nothing remained then but to bring and fill the jars with water, and hang the +skin bottles of arrack ready for the hand—to-morrow the leben. Nor might +an Arab see why Ilderim should not be both happy and generous—in his tent +by the lake of sweet waters, under the palms of the Orchard of Palms. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the tent at the door of which we left Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +Servants were already waiting the master’s direction. One of them took +off his sandals; another unlatched Ben-Hur’s Roman shoes; then the two +exchanged their dusty outer garments for fresh ones of white linen. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter—in God’s name, enter, and take thy rest,” said +the host, heartily, in the dialect of the Market-place of Jerusalem; forthwith +he led the way to the divan. +</p> + +<p> +“I will sit here,” he said next, pointing; “and there the +stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +A woman—in the old time she would have been called a +handmaid—answered, and dexterously piled the pillows and bolsters as +rests for the back; after which they sat upon the side of the divan, while +water was brought fresh from the lake, and their feet bathed and dried with +napkins. +</p> + +<p> +“We have a saying in the Desert,” Ilderim began, gathering his +beard, and combing it with his slender fingers, “that a good appetite is +the promise of a long life. Hast thou such?” +</p> + +<p> +“By that rule, good sheik, I will live a hundred years. I am a hungry +wolf at thy door,” Ben-Hur replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thou shalt not be sent away like a wolf. I will give thee the best +of the flocks.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim clapped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Seek the stranger in the guest-tent, and say I, Ilderim, send him a +prayer that his peace may be as incessant as the flowing of waters.” +</p> + +<p> +The man in waiting bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, also,” Ilderim continued, “that I have returned with +another for breaking of bread; and, if Balthasar the wise careth to share the +loaf, three may partake of it, and the portion of the birds be none the +less.” +</p> + +<p> +The second servant went away. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us take our rest now.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Ilderim settled himself upon the divan, as at this day merchants sit +on their rugs in the bazaars of Damascus; and when fairly at rest, he stopped +combing his beard, and said, gravely, “That thou art my guest, and hast +drunk my leben, and art about to taste my salt, ought not to forbid a question: +Who art thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sheik Ilderim,” said Ben-Hur, calmly enduring his gaze, “I +pray thee not to think me trifling with thy just demand; but was there never a +time in thy life when to answer such a question would have been a crime to +thyself?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the splendor of Solomon, yes!” Ilderim answered. +“Betrayal of self is at times as base as the betrayal of a tribe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, thanks, good sheik!” Ben-Hur exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Never answer became thee better. Now I know thou dost but seek assurance +to justify the trust I have come to ask, and that such assurance is of more +interest to thee than the affairs of my poor life.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik in his turn bowed, and Ben-Hur hastened to pursue his advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“So it please thee then,” he said, “first, I am not a Roman, +as the name given thee as mine implieth.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim clasped the beard overflowing his breast, and gazed at the speaker with +eyes faintly twinkling through the shade of the heavy close-drawn brows. +</p> + +<p> +“In the next place,” Ben-Hur continued, “I am an Israelite of +the tribe of Judah.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik raised his brows a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor that merely. Sheik, I am a Jew with a grievance against Rome +compared with which thine is not more than a child’s trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man combed his beard with nervous haste, and let fall his brows until +even the twinkle of the eyes went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Still further: I swear to thee, Sheik Ilderim—I swear by the +covenant the Lord made with my fathers—so thou but give me the revenge I +seek, the money and the glory of the race shall be thine.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s brows relaxed; his head arose; his face began to beam; and it +was almost possible to see the satisfaction taking possession of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough!” he said. “If at the roots of thy tongue there is a +lie in coil, Solomon himself had not been safe against thee. That thou art not +a Roman—that as a Jew thou hast a grievance against Rome, and revenge to +compass, I believe; and on that score enough. But as to thy skill. What +experience hast thou in racing with chariots? And the horses—canst thou +make them creatures of thy will?—to know thee? to come at call? to go, if +thou sayest it, to the last extreme of breath and strength? and then, in the +perishing moment, out of the depths of thy life thrill them to one exertion the +mightiest of all? The gift, my son, is not to every one. Ah, by the splendor of +God! I knew a king who governed millions of men, their perfect master, but +could not win the respect of a horse. Mark! I speak not of the dull brutes +whose round it is to slave for slaves—the debased in blood and +image—the dead in spirit; but of such as mine here—the kings of +their kind; of a lineage reaching back to the broods of the first Pharaoh; my +comrades and friends, dwellers in tents, whom long association with me has +brought up to my plane; who to their instincts have added our wits and to their +senses joined our souls, until they feel all we know of ambition, love, hate, +and contempt; in war, heroes; in trust, faithful as women. Ho, there!” +</p> + +<p> +A servant came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Let my Arabs come!” +</p> + +<p> +The man drew aside part of the division curtain of the tent, exposing to view a +group of horses, who lingered a moment where they were as if to make certain of +the invitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” Ilderim said to them. “Why stand ye there? What have +I that is not yours? Come, I say!” +</p> + +<p> +They stalked slowly in. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Israel,” the master said, “thy Moses was a mighty +man, but—ha, ha ha!—I must laugh when I think of his allowing thy +fathers the plodding ox and the dull, slow-natured ass, and forbidding them +property in horses. Ha, ha, ha! Thinkest thou he would have done so had he seen +that one—and that—and this?” At the word he laid his hand +upon the face of the first to reach him, and patted it with infinite pride and +tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a misjudgment, sheik, a misjudgment,” Ben-Hur said, warmly. +“Moses was a warrior as well as a lawgiver beloved by God; and to follow +war—ah, what is it but to love all its creatures—these among the +rest?” +</p> + +<p> +A head of exquisite turn—with large eyes, soft as a deer’s, and +half hidden by the dense forelock, and small ears, sharp-pointed and sloped +well forward—approached then quite to his breast, the nostrils open, and +the upper lip in motion. “Who are you?” it asked, plainly as ever +man spoke. Ben-Hur recognized one of the four racers he had seen on the course, +and gave his open hand to the beautiful brute. +</p> + +<p> +“They will tell you, the blasphemers!—may their days shorten as +they grow fewer!”—the sheik spoke with the feeling of a man +repelling a personal defamation—“they will tell you, I say, that +our horses of the best blood are derived from the Nesaean pastures of Persia. +God gave the first Arab a measureless waste of sand, with some treeless +mountains, and here and there a well of bitter waters; and said to him, +‘Behold thy country!’ And when the poor man complained, the Mighty +One pitied him, and said again, ‘Be of cheer! for I will twice bless thee +above other men.’ The Arab heard, and gave thanks, and with faith set out +to find the blessings. He travelled all the boundaries first, and failed; then +he made a path into the desert, and went on and on—and in the heart of +the waste there was an island of green very beautiful to see; and in the heart +of the island, lo! a herd of camels, and another of horses! He took them +joyfully and kept them with care for what they were—best gifts of God. +And from that green isle went forth all the horses of the earth; even to the +pastures of Nesaea they went; and northward to the dreadful vales perpetually +threshed by blasts from the Sea of Chill Winds. Doubt not the story; or if thou +dost, may never amulet have charm for an Arab again. Nay, I will give thee +proof.” +</p> + +<p> +He clapped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me the records of the tribe,” he said to the servant who +responded. +</p> + +<p> +While waiting, the sheik played with the horses, patting their cheeks, combing +their forelocks with his fingers, giving each one a token of remembrance. +Presently six men appeared with chests of cedar reinforced by bands of brass, +and hinged and bolted with brass. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Ilderim, when they were all set down by the divan, +“I meant not all of them; only the records of the horses—that one. +Open it and take back the others.” +</p> + +<p> +The chest was opened, disclosing a mass of ivory tablets strung on rings of +silver wire; and as the tablets were scarcely thicker than wafers, each ring +held several hundreds of them. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” said Ilderim, taking some of the rings in his +hand—“I know with what care and zeal, my son, the scribes of the +Temple in the Holy City keep the names of the newly born, that every son of +Israel may trace his line of ancestry to its beginning, though it antedate the +patriarchs. My fathers—may the recollection of them be green +forever!—did not think it sinful to borrow the idea, and apply it to +their dumb servants. See these tablets!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took the rings, and separating the tablets saw they bore rude +hieroglyphs in Arabic, burned on the smooth surface by a sharp point of heated +metal. +</p> + +<p> +“Canst thou read them, O son of Israel?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Thou must tell me their meaning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Know thou, then, each tablet records the name of a foal of the pure +blood born to my fathers through the hundreds of years passed; and also the +names of sire and dam. Take them, and note their age, that thou mayst the more +readily believe.” +</p> + +<p> +Some of the tablets were nearly worn away. All were yellow with age. +</p> + +<p> +“In the chest there, I can tell thee now, I have the perfect history; +perfect because certified as history seldom is—showing of what stock all +these are sprung—this one, and that now supplicating thy notice and +caress; and as they come to us here, their sires, even the furthest removed in +time, came to my sires, under a tent-roof like this of mine, to eat their +measure of barley from the open hand, and be talked to as children; and as +children kiss the thanks they have not speech to express. And now, O son of +Israel, thou mayst believe my declaration—if I am a lord of the Desert, +behold my ministers! Take them from me, and I become as a sick man left by the +caravan to die. Thanks to them, age hath not diminished the terror of me on the +highways between cities; and it will not while I have strength to go with them. +Ha, ha, ha! I could tell thee marvels done by their ancestors. In a favoring +time I may do so; for the present, enough that they were never overtaken in +retreat; nor, by the sword of Solomon, did they ever fail in pursuit! That, +mark you, on the sands and under saddle; but now—I do not know—I am +afraid, for they are under yoke the first time, and the conditions of success +are so many. They have the pride and the speed and the endurance. If I find +them a master, they will win. Son of Israel! so thou art the man, I swear it +shall be a happy day that brought thee thither. Of thyself now speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know now,” said Ben-Hur, “why it is that in the love of an +Arab his horse is next to his children; and I know, also, why the Arab horses +are the best in the world; but, good sheik, I would not have you judge me by +words alone; for, as you know, all promises of men sometimes fail. Give me the +trial first on some plain hereabout, and put the four in my hand +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s face beamed again, and he would have spoken. +</p> + +<p> +“A moment, good sheik, a moment!” said Ben-Hur. “Let me say +further. From the masters in Rome I learned many lessons, little thinking they +would serve me in a time like this. I tell thee these thy sons of the Desert, +though they have separately the speed of eagles and the endurance of lions, +will fail if they are not trained to run together under the yoke. For bethink +thee, sheik, in every four there is one the slowest and one the swiftest; and +while the race is always to the slowest, the trouble is always with the +swiftest. It was so to-day; the driver could not reduce the best to harmonious +action with the poorest. My trial may have no better result; but if so, I will +tell thee of it: that I swear. Wherefore, in the same spirit I say, can I get +them to run together, moved by my will, the four as one, thou shalt have the +sestertii and the crown, and I my revenge. What sayest thou?” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim listened, combing his beard the while. At the end he said, with a +laugh, “I think better of thee, son of Israel. We have a saying in the +Desert, ‘If you will cook the meal with words, I will promise an ocean of +butter.’ Thou shalt have the horses in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment there was a stir at the rear entrance to the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“The supper—it is here! and yonder my friend Balthasar, whom thou +shalt know. He hath a story to tell which an Israelite should never tire of +hearing.” +</p> + +<p> +And to the servants he added, +</p> + +<p> +“Take the records away, and return my jewels to their apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +And they did as he ordered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap41"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p> +If the reader will return now to the repast of the wise men at their meeting in +the desert, he will understand the preparations for the supper in +Ilderim’s tent. The differences were chiefly such as were incident to +ampler means and better service. +</p> + +<p> +Three rugs were spread on the carpet within the space so nearly enclosed by the +divan; a table not more than a foot in height was brought and set within the +same place, and covered with a cloth. Off to one side a portable earthenware +oven was established under the presidency of a woman whose duty it was to keep +the company in bread, or, more precisely, in hot cakes of flour from the +handmills grinding with constant sound in a neighboring tent. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Balthasar was conducted to the divan, where Ilderim and Ben-Hur +received him standing. A loose black gown covered his person; his step was +feeble, and his whole movement slow and cautious, apparently dependent upon a +long staff and the arm of a servant. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, my friend,” said Ilderim, respectfully. “Peace +and welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian raised his head and replied, “And to thee, good +sheik—to thee and thine, peace and the blessing of the One God—God +the true and loving.” +</p> + +<p> +The manner was gentle and devout, and impressed Ben-Hur with a feeling of awe; +besides which the blessing included in the answering salutation had been partly +addressed to him, and while that part was being spoken, the eyes of the aged +guest, hollow yet luminous, rested upon his face long enough to stir an emotion +new and mysterious, and so strong that he again and again during the repast +scanned the much wrinkled and bloodless face for its meaning; but always there +was the expression bland, placid, and trustful as a child’s. A little +later he found that expression habitual. +</p> + +<p> +“This is he, O Balthasar,” said the sheik, laying his hand on +Ben-Hur’s arm, “who will break bread with us this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian glanced at the young man, and looked again surprised and doubting; +seeing which the sheik continued, “I have promised him my horses for +trial to-morrow; and if all goes well, he will drive them in the Circus.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar continued his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“He came well recommended,” Ilderim pursued, much puzzled. +“You may know him as the son of Arrius, who was a noble Roman sailor, +though”—the sheik hesitated, then resumed, with a +laugh—“though he declares himself an Israelite of the tribe of +Judah; and, by the splendor of God, I believe what he tells me!” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar could no longer withhold explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day, O most generous sheik, my life was in peril, and would have been +lost had not a youth, the counterpart of this one—if, indeed, he be not +the very same—intervened when all others fled, and saved me.” Then +he addressed Ben-Hur directly, “Art thou not he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot answer so far,” Ben-Hur replied, with modest deference. +“I am he who stopped the horses of the insolent Roman when they were +rushing upon thy camel at the Fountain of Castalia. Thy daughter left a cup +with me.” +</p> + +<p> +From the bosom of his tunic he produced the cup, and gave it to Balthasar. +</p> + +<p> +A glow lighted the faded countenance of the Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord sent thee to me at the Fountain to-day,” he said, in a +tremulous voice, stretching his hand towards Ben-Hur; “and he sends thee +to me now. I give him thanks; and praise him thou, for of his favor I have +wherewith to give thee great reward, and I will. The cup is thine; keep +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took back the gift, and Balthasar, seeing the inquiry upon +Ilderim’s face, related the occurrence at the Fountain. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” said the sheik to Ben-Hur. “Thou saidst nothing of +this to me, when better recommendation thou couldst not have brought. Am I not +an Arab, and sheik of my tribe of tens of thousands? And is not he my guest? +And is it not in my guest-bond that the good or evil thou dost him is good or +evil done to me? Whither shouldst thou go for reward but here? And whose the +hand to give it but mine?” +</p> + +<p> +His voice at the end of the speech rose to cutting shrillness. +</p> + +<p> +“Good sheik, spare me, I pray. I came not for reward, great or small; and +that I may be acquitted of the thought, I say the help I gave this excellent +man would have been given as well to thy humblest servant.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he is my friend, my guest—not my servant; and seest thou not +in the difference the favor of Fortune?” Then to Balthasar the sheik +subjoined, “Ah, by the splendor of God! I tell thee again he is not a +Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he turned away, and gave attention to the servants, whose +preparations for the supper were about complete. +</p> + +<p> +The reader who recollects the history of Balthasar as given by himself at the +meeting in the desert will understand the effect of Ben-Hur’s assertion +of disinterestedness upon that worthy. In his devotion to men there had been, +it will be remembered, no distinctions; while the redemption which had been +promised him in the way of reward—the redemption for which he was +waiting—was universal. To him, therefore, the assertion sounded somewhat +like an echo of himself. He took a step nearer Ben-Hur, and spoke to him in the +childlike way. +</p> + +<p> +“How did the sheik say I should call you? It was a Roman name, I +think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arrius, the son of Arrius.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet thou art not a Roman?” +</p> + +<p> +“All my people were Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were, saidst thou? Are they not living?” +</p> + +<p> +The question was subtle as well as simple; but Ilderim saved Ben-Hur from +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” he said to them, “the meal is ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur gave his arm to Balthasar, and conducted him to the table, where +shortly they were all seated on their rugs Eastern fashion. The lavers were +brought them, and they washed and dried their hands; then the sheik made a +sign, the servants stopped, and the voice of the Egyptian arose tremulous with +holy feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“Father of All—God! What we have is of thee; take our thanks, and +bless us, that we may continue to do thy will.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the grace the good man had said simultaneously with his brethren Gaspar +the Greek and Melchior the Hindoo, the utterance in diverse tongues out of +which had come the miracle attesting the Divine Presence at the meal in the +desert years before. +</p> + +<p> +The table to which they immediately addressed themselves was, as may be +thought, rich in the substantials and delicacies favorite in the East—in +cakes hot from the oven, vegetables from the gardens, meats singly, compounds +of meats and vegetables, milk of kine, and honey and butter—all eaten or +drunk, it should be remarked, without any of the modern +accessories—knives, forks, spoons, cups, or plates; and in this part of +the repast but little was said, for they were hungry. But when the dessert was +in course it was otherwise. They laved their hands again, had the lap-cloths +shaken out, and with a renewed table and the sharp edge of their appetites gone +they were disposed to talk and listen. +</p> + +<p> +With such a company—an Arab, a Jew, and an Egyptian, all believers alike +in one God—there could be at that age but one subject of conversation; +and of the three, which should be speaker but he to whom the Deity had been so +nearly a personal appearance, who had seen him in a star, had heard his voice +in direction, had been led so far and so miraculously by his Spirit? And of +what should he talk but that of which he had been called to testify? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap42"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p> +The shadows cast over the Orchard of Palms by the mountains at set of sun left +no sweet margin time of violet sky and drowsing earth between the day and +night. The latter came early and swift; and against its glooming in the tent +this evening the servants brought four candlesticks of brass, and set them by +the corners of the table. To each candlestick there were four branches, and on +each branch a lighted silver lamp and a supply cup of olive-oil. In light +ample, even brilliant, the group at dessert continued their conversation, +speaking in the Syriac dialect, familiar to all peoples in that part of the +world. +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian told his story of the meeting of the three in the desert, and +agreed with the sheik that it was in December, twenty-seven years before, when +he and his companions fleeing from Herod arrived at the tent praying shelter. +The narrative was heard with intense interest; even the servants lingering when +they could to catch its details. Ben-Hur received it as became a man listening +to a revelation of deep concern to all humanity, and to none of more concern +than the people of Israel. In his mind, as we shall presently see, there was +crystallizing an idea which was to change his course of life, if not absorb it +absolutely. +</p> + +<p> +As the recital proceeded, the impression made by Balthasar upon the young Jew +increased; at its conclusion, his feeling was too profound to permit a doubt of +its truth; indeed, there was nothing left him desirable in the connection but +assurances, if such were to be had, pertaining exclusively to the consequences +of the amazing event. +</p> + +<p> +And now there is wanting an explanation which the very discerning may have +heretofore demanded; certainly it can be no longer delayed. Our tale begins, in +point of date not less than fact, to trench close upon the opening of the +ministry of the Son of Mary, whom we have seen but once since this same +Balthasar left him worshipfully in his mother’s lap in the cave by +Bethlehem. Henceforth to the end the mysterious Child will be a subject of +continual reference; and slowly though surely the current of events with which +we are dealing will bring us nearer and nearer to him, until finally we see him +a man—we would like, if armed contrariety of opinion would permit it, to +add—A MAN WHOM THE WORLD COULD NOT DO WITHOUT. Of this declaration, +apparently so simple, a shrewd mind inspired by faith will make much—and +in welcome. Before his time, and since, there have been men indispensable to +particular people and periods; but his indispensability was to the whole race, +and for all time—a respect in which it is unique, solitary, divine. +</p> + +<p> +To Sheik Ilderim the story was not new. He had heard it from the three wise men +together under circumstances which left no room for doubt; he had acted upon it +seriously, for the helping a fugitive escape from the anger of the first Herod +was dangerous. Now one of the three sat at his table again, a welcome guest and +revered friend. Sheik Ilderim certainly believed the story; yet, in the nature +of things, its mighty central fact could not come home to him with the force +and absorbing effect it came to Ben-Hur. He was an Arab, whose interest in the +consequences was but general; on the other hand, Ben-Hur was an Israelite and a +Jew, with more than a special interest in—if the solecism can be +pardoned—the truth of the fact. He laid hold of the circumstance with a +purely Jewish mind. +</p> + +<p> +From his cradle, let it be remembered, he had heard of the Messiah; at the +colleges he had been made familiar with all that was known of that Being at +once the hope, the fear, and the peculiar glory of the chosen people; the +prophets from the first to the last of the heroic line foretold him; and the +coming had been, and yet was, the theme of endless exposition with the +rabbis—in the synagogues, in the schools, in the Temple, of fast-days and +feast-days, in public and in private, the national teachers expounded and kept +expounding until all the children of Abraham, wherever their lots were cast, +bore the Messiah in expectation, and by it literally, and with iron severity, +ruled and moulded their lives. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, it will be understood from this that there was much argument among +the Jews themselves about the Messiah, and so there was; but the disputation +was all limited to one point, and one only—when would he come? +</p> + +<p> +Disquisition is for the preacher; whereas the writer is but telling a tale, and +that he may not lose his character, the explanation he is making requires +notice merely of a point connected with the Messiah about which the unanimity +among the chosen people was matter of marvellous astonishment: he was to be, +when come, the KING OF THE JEWS—their political King, their Cæsar. By +their instrumentality he was to make armed conquest of the earth, and then, for +their profit and in the name of God, hold it down forever. On this faith, dear +reader, the Pharisees or Separatists—the latter being rather a political +term—in the cloisters and around the altars of the Temple, built an +edifice of hope far overtopping the dream of the Macedonian. His but covered +the earth; theirs covered the earth and filled the skies; that is to say, in +their bold, boundless fantasy of blasphemous egotism, God the Almighty was in +effect to suffer them for their uses to nail him by the ear to a door in sign +of eternal servitude. +</p> + +<p> +Returning directly to Ben-Hur, it is to be observed now that there were two +circumstances in his life the result of which had been to keep him in a state +comparatively free from the influence and hard effects of the audacious faith +of his Separatist countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place, his father followed the faith of the Sadducees, who may, in +a general way, be termed the Liberals of their time. They had some loose +opinions in denial of the soul. They were strict constructionists and rigorous +observers of the Law as found in the books of Moses; but they held the vast +mass of Rabbinical addenda to those books in derisive contempt. They were +unquestionably a sect, yet their religion was more a philosophy than a creed; +they did not deny themselves the enjoyments of life, and saw many admirable +methods and productions among the Gentile divisions of the race. In politics +they were the active opposition of the Separatists. In the natural order of +things, these circumstances and conditions, opinions and peculiarities, would +have descended to the son as certainly and really as any portion of his +father’s estate; and, as we have seen, he was actually in course of +acquiring them, when the second saving event overtook him. +</p> + +<p> +Upon a youth of Ben-Hur’s mind and temperament the influence of five +years of affluent life in Rome can be appreciated best by recalling that the +great city was then, in fact, the meeting-place of the nations—their +meeting-place politically and commercially, as well as for the indulgence of +pleasure without restraint. Round and round the golden mile-stone in front of +the Forum—now in gloom of eclipse, now in unapproachable +splendor—flowed all the active currents of humanity. If excellences of +manner, refinements of society, attainments of intellect, and glory of +achievement made no impression upon him, how could he, as the son of Arrius, +pass day after day, through a period so long, from the beautiful villa near +Misenum into the receptions of Cæsar, and be wholly uninfluenced by what he +saw there of kings, princes, ambassadors, hostages, and delegates, suitors all +of them from every known land, waiting humbly the yes or no which was to make +or unmake them? As mere assemblages, to be sure, there was nothing to compare +with the gatherings at Jerusalem in celebration of the Passover; yet when he +sat under the purple velaria of the Circus Maximus one of three hundred and +fifty thousand spectators, he must have been visited by the thought that +possibly there might be some branches of the family of man worthy divine +consideration, if not mercy, though they were of the uncircumcised—some, +by their sorrows, and, yet worse, by their hopelessness in the midst of +sorrows, fitted for brotherhood in the promises to his countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +That he should have had such a thought under such circumstances was but +natural; we think so much, at least, will be admitted: but when the reflection +came to him, and he gave himself up to it, he could not have been blind to a +certain distinction. The wretchedness of the masses, and their hopeless +condition, had no relation whatever to religion; their murmurs and groans were +not against their gods or for want of gods. In the oak-woods of Britain the +Druids held their followers; Odin and Freya maintained their godships in Gaul +and Germany and among the Hyperboreans; Egypt was satisfied with her crocodiles +and Anubis; the Persians were yet devoted to Ormuzd and Ahriman, holding them +in equal honor; in hope of the Nirvana, the Hindoos moved on patient as ever in +the rayless paths of Brahm; the beautiful Greek mind, in pauses of philosophy, +still sang the heroic gods of Homer; while in Rome nothing was so common and +cheap as gods. According to whim, the masters of the world, because they were +masters, carried their worship and offerings indifferently from altar to altar, +delighted in the pandemonium they had erected. Their discontent, if they were +discontented, was with the number of gods; for, after borrowing all the +divinities of the earth they proceeded to deify their Cæsars, and vote them +altars and holy service. No, the unhappy condition was not from religion, but +misgovernment and usurpations and countless tyrannies. The Avernus men had been +tumbled into, and were praying to be relieved from, was terribly but +essentially political. The supplication—everywhere alike, in Lodinum, +Alexandria, Athens, Jerusalem—was for a king to conquer with, not a god +to worship. +</p> + +<p> +Studying the situation after two thousand years, we can see and say that +religiously there was no relief from the universal confusion except some God +could prove himself a true God, and a masterful one, and come to the rescue; +but the people of the time, even the discerning and philosophical, discovered +no hope except in crushing Rome; that done, the relief would follow in +restorations and reorganizations; therefore they prayed, conspired, rebelled, +fought, and died, drenching the soil to-day with blood, to-morrow with +tears—and always with the same result. +</p> + +<p> +It remains to be said now that Ben-Hur was in agreement with the mass of men of +his time not Romans. The five years’ residence in the capital served him +with opportunity to see and study the miseries of the subjugated world; and in +full belief that the evils which afflicted it were political, and to be cured +only by the sword, he was going forth to fit himself for a part in the day of +resort to the heroic remedy. By practice of arms he was a perfect soldier; but +war has its higher fields, and he who would move successfully in them must know +more than to defend with shield and thrust with spear. In those fields the +general finds his tasks, the greatest of which is the reduction of the many +into one, and that one himself; the consummate captain is a fighting-man armed +with an army. This conception entered into the scheme of life to which he was +further swayed by the reflection that the vengeance he dreamed of, in +connection with his individual wrongs, would be more surely found in some of +the ways of war than in any pursuit of peace. +</p> + +<p> +The feelings with which he listened to Balthasar can be now understood. The +story touched two of the most sensitive points of his being so they rang within +him. His heart beat fast—and faster still when, searching himself, he +found not a doubt either that the recital was true in every particular, or that +the Child so miraculously found was the Messiah. Marvelling much that Israel +rested so dead to the revelation, and that he had never heard of it before that +day, two questions presented themselves to him as centring all it was at that +moment further desirable to know: +</p> + +<p> +Where was the Child then? +</p> + +<p> +And what was his mission? +</p> + +<p> +With apologies for the interruptions, he proceeded to draw out the opinions of +Balthasar, who was in nowise loath to speak. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap43"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p> +“If I could answer you,” Balthasar said, in his simple, earnest, +devout way—“oh, if I knew where he is, how quickly I would go to +him! The seas should not stay me, nor the mountains.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have tried to find him, then?” asked Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +A smile flitted across the face of the Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +“The first task I charged myself with after leaving the shelter given me +in the desert”—Balthasar cast a grateful look at +Ilderim—“was to learn what became of the Child. But a year had +passed, and I dared not go up to Judea in person, for Herod still held the +throne bloody-minded as ever. In Egypt, upon my return, there were a few +friends to believe the wonderful things I told them of what I had seen and +heard—a few who rejoiced with me that a Redeemer was born—a few who +never tired of the story. Some of them came up for me looking after the Child. +They went first to Bethlehem, and found there the khan and the cave; but the +steward—he who sat at the gate the night of the birth, and the night we +came following the star—was gone. The king had taken him away, and he was +no more seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they found some proofs, surely,” said Ben-Hur, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, proofs written in blood—a village in mourning; mothers yet +crying for their little ones. You must know, when Herod heard of our flight, he +sent down and slew the youngest-born of the children of Bethlehem. Not one +escaped. The faith of my messengers was confirmed; but they came to me saying +the Child was dead, slain with the other innocents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” exclaimed Ben-Hur, aghast. “Dead, sayest thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my son, I did not say so. I said they, my messengers, told me the +Child was dead. I did not believe the report then; I do not believe it +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see—thou hast some special knowledge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, not so,” said Balthasar, dropping his gaze. “The +Spirit was to go with us no farther than to the Child. When we came out of the +cave, after our presents were given and we had seen the babe, we looked first +thing for the star; but it was gone, and we knew we were left to ourselves. The +last inspiration of the Holy One—the last I can recall—was that +which sent us to Ilderim for safety.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the sheik, fingering his beard nervously. “You +told me you were sent to me by a Spirit—I remember it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no special knowledge,” Balthasar continued, observing the +dejection which had fallen upon Ben-Hur; “but, my son, I have given the +matter much thought—thought continuing through years, inspired by faith, +which, I assure you, calling God for witness, is as strong in me now as in the +hour I heard the voice of the Spirit calling me by the shore of the lake. If +you will listen, I will tell you why I believe the Child is living.” +</p> + +<p> +Both Ilderim and Ben-Hur looked assent, and appeared to summon their faculties +that they might understand as well as hear. The interest reached the servants, +who drew near to the divan, and stood listening. Throughout the tent there was +the profoundest silence. +</p> + +<p> +“We three believe in God.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar bowed his head as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“And he is the Truth,” he resumed. “His word is God. The +hills may turn to dust, and the seas be drunk dry by south winds; but his word +shall stand, because it is the Truth.” +</p> + +<p> +The utterance was in a manner inexpressibly solemn. +</p> + +<p> +“The voice, which was his, speaking to me by the lake, said, +‘Blessed art thou, O son of Mizraim! The Redemption cometh. With two +others from the remotenesses of the earth, thou shalt see the Savior.’ I +have seen the Savior—blessed be his name!—but the Redemption, which +was the second part of the promise, is yet to come. Seest thou now? If the +Child be dead, there is no agent to bring the Redemption about, and the word is +naught, and God—nay, I dare not say it!” +</p> + +<p> +He threw up both hands in horror. +</p> + +<p> +“The Redemption was the work for which the Child was born; and so long as +the promise abides, not even death can separate him from his work until it is +fulfilled, or at least in the way of fulfilment. Take you that now as one +reason for my belief; then give me further attention.” +</p> + +<p> +The good man paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Wilt thou not taste the wine? It is at thy hand—see,” said +Ilderim, respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar drank, and, seeming refreshed, continued: +</p> + +<p> +“The Savior I saw was born of woman, in nature like us, and subject to +all our ills—even death. Let that stand as the first proposition. +Consider next the work set apart to him. Was it not a performance for which +only a man is fitted?—a man wise, firm, discreet—a man, not a +child? To become such he had to grow as we grow. Bethink you now of the dangers +his life was subject to in the interval—the long interval between +childhood and maturity. The existing powers were his enemies; Herod was his +enemy; and what would Rome have been? And as for Israel—that he should +not be accepted by Israel was the motive for cutting him off. See you now. What +better way was there to take care of his life in the helpless growing time than +by passing him into obscurity? Wherefore I say to myself, and to my listening +faith, which is never moved except by yearning of love—I say he is not +dead, but lost; and, his work remaining undone, he will come again. There you +have the reasons for my belief. Are they not good?” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s small Arab eyes were bright with understanding, and Ben-Hur, +lifted from his dejection, said heartily, “I, at least, may not gainsay +them. What further, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hast thou not enough, my son? Well,” he began, in calmer tone, +“seeing that the reasons were good—more plainly, seeing it was +God’s will that the Child should not be found—I settled my faith +into the keeping of patience, and took to waiting.” He raised his eyes, +full of holy trust, and broke off abstractedly—“I am waiting now. +He lives, keeping well his mighty secret. What though I cannot go to him, or +name the hill or the vale of his abiding-place? He lives—it may be as the +fruit in blossom, it may be as the fruit just ripening; but by the certainty +there is in the promise and reason of God, I know he lives.” +</p> + +<p> +A thrill of awe struck Ben-Hur—a thrill which was but the dying of his +half-formed doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“Where thinkest thou he is?” he asked, in a low voice, and +hesitating, like one who feels upon his lips the pressure of a sacred silence. +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar looked at him kindly, and replied, his mind not entirely freed from +its abstraction, +</p> + +<p> +“In my house on the Nile, so close to the river that the passers-by in +boats see it and its reflection in the water at the same time—in my +house, a few weeks ago, I sat thinking. A man thirty years old, I said to +myself, should have his fields of life all ploughed, and his planting well +done; for after that it is summer-time, with space scarce enough to ripen his +sowing. The Child, I said further, is now twenty-seven—his time to plant +must be at hand. I asked myself, as you here asked me, my son, and answered by +coming hither, as to a good resting-place close by the land thy fathers had +from God. Where else should he appear, if not in Judea? In what city should he +begin his work, if not in Jerusalem? Who should be first to receive the +blessings he is to bring, if not the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; in +love, at least, the children of the Lord? If I were bidden go seek him, I would +search well the hamlets and villages on the slopes of the mountains of Judea +and Galilee falling eastwardly into the valley of the Jordan. He is there now. +Standing in a door or on a hill-top, only this evening he saw the sun set one +day nearer the time when he himself shall become the light of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar ceased, with his hand raised and finger pointing as if at Judea. All +the listeners, even the dull servants outside the divan, affected by his +fervor, were startled as if by a majestic presence suddenly apparent within the +tent. Nor did the sensation die away at once: of those at the table, each sat +awhile thinking. The spell was finally broken by Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“I see, good Balthasar,” he said, “that thou hast been much +and strangely favored. I see, also, that thou art a wise man indeed. It is not +in my power to tell how grateful I am for the things thou hast told me. I am +warned of the coming of great events, and borrow somewhat from thy faith. +Complete the obligation, I pray thee, by telling further of the mission of him +for whom thou art waiting, and for whom from this night I too shall wait as +becomes a believing son of Judah. He is to be a Savior, thou saidst; is he not +to be King of the Jews also?” +</p> + +<p> +“My son,” said Balthasar, in his benignant way, “the mission +is yet a purpose in the bosom of God. All I think about it is wrung from the +words of the Voice in connection with the prayer to which they were in answer. +Shall we refer to them again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art the teacher.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cause of my disquiet,” Balthasar began, +calmly—“that which made me a preacher in Alexandria and in the +villages of the Nile; that which drove me at last into the solitude where the +Spirit found me—was the fallen condition of men, occasioned, as I +believed, by loss of the knowledge of God. I sorrowed for the sorrows of my +kind—not of one class, but all of them. So utterly were they fallen it +seemed to me there could be no Redemption unless God himself would make it his +work; and I prayed him to come, and that I might see him. ‘Thy good works +have conquered. The Redemption cometh; thou shalt see the +Savior’—thus the Voice spake; and with the answer I went up to +Jerusalem rejoicing. Now, to whom is the Redemption? To all the world. And how +shall it be? Strengthen thy faith, my son! Men say, I know, that there will be +no happiness until Rome is razed from her hills. That is to say, the ills of +the time are not, as I thought them, from ignorance of God, but from the +misgovernment of rulers. Do we need to be told that human governments are never +for the sake of religion? How many kings have you heard of who were better than +their subjects? Oh no, no! The Redemption cannot be for a political +purpose—to pull down rulers and powers, and vacate their places merely +that others may take and enjoy them. If that were all of it, the wisdom of God +would cease to be surpassing. I tell you, though it be but the saying of blind +to blind, he that comes is to be a Savior of souls; and the Redemption means +God once more on earth, and righteousness, that his stay here may be tolerable +to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Disappointment showed plainly on Ben-Hur’s face—his head drooped; +and if he was not convinced, he yet felt himself incapable that moment of +disputing the opinion of the Egyptian. Not so Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“By the splendor of God!” he cried, impulsively, “the +judgment does away with all custom. The ways of the world are fixed, and cannot +be changed. There must be a leader in every community clothed with power, else +there is no reform.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar received the burst gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Thy wisdom, good sheik, is of the world; and thou dost forget that it is +from the ways of the world we are to be redeemed. Man as a subject is the +ambition of a king; the soul of a man for its salvation is the desire of a +God.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim, though silenced, shook his head, unwilling to believe. Ben-Hur took up +the argument for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Father—I call thee such by permission,” he +said—“for whom wert thou required to ask at the gates of +Jerusalem?” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik threw him a grateful look. +</p> + +<p> +“I was to ask of the people,” said Balthasar, quietly, +“‘Where is he that is born King of the Jews?’” +</p> + +<p> +“And you saw him in the cave by Bethlehem?” +</p> + +<p> +“We saw and worshipped him, and gave him presents—Melchior, gold; +Gaspar, frankincense; and I, myrrh.” +</p> + +<p> +“When thou dost speak of fact, O father, to hear thee is to +believe,” said Ben-Hur; “but in the matter of opinion, I cannot +understand the kind of king thou wouldst make of the Child—I cannot +separate the ruler from his powers and duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“Son,” said Balthasar, “we have the habit of studying closely +the things which chance to lie at our feet, giving but a look at the greater +objects in the distance. Thou seest now but the title—KING OF THE JEWS; +wilt thou lift thine eyes to the mystery beyond it, the stumbling-block will +disappear. Of the title, a word. Thy Israel hath seen better days—days in +which God called thy people endearingly his people, and dealt with them through +prophets. Now, if in those days he promised them the Savior I +saw—promised him as KING OF THE JEWS—the appearance must be +according to the promise, if only for the word’s sake. Ah, thou seest the +reason of my question at the gate!—thou seest, and I will no more of it, +but pass on. It may be, next, thou art regarding the dignity of the Child; if +so, bethink thee—what is it to be a successor of Herod?—by the +world’s standard of honor, what? Could not God better by his beloved? If +thou canst think of the Almighty Father in want of a title, and stooping to +borrow the inventions of men, why was I not bidden ask for a Cæsar at once? +Oh, for the substance of that whereof we speak, look higher, I pray thee! Ask +rather of what he whom we await shall be king; for I do tell, my son, that is +the key to the mystery, which no man shall understand without the key.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar raised his eyes devoutly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a kingdom on the earth, though it is not of it—a kingdom +of wider bounds than the earth—wider than the sea and the earth, though +they were rolled together as finest gold and spread by the beating of hammers. +Its existence is a fact as our hearts are facts, and we journey through it from +birth to death without seeing it; nor shall any man see it until he hath first +known his own soul; for the kingdom is not for him, but for his soul. And in +its dominion there is glory such as hath not entered +imagination—original, incomparable, impossible of increase.” +</p> + +<p> +“What thou sayest, father, is a riddle to me,” said Ben-Hur. +“I never heard of such a kingdom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did I,” said Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“And I may not tell more of it,” Balthasar added, humbly dropping +his eyes. “What it is, what it is for, how it may be reached, none can +know until the Child comes to take possession of it as his own. He brings the +key of the viewless gate, which he will open for his beloved, among whom will +be all who love him, for of such only the redeemed will be.” +</p> + +<p> +After that there was a long silence, which Balthasar accepted as the end of the +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Good sheik,” he said, in his placid way, “to-morrow or the +next day I will go up to the city for a time. My daughter wishes to see the +preparations for the games. I will speak further about the time of our going. +And, my son, I will see you again. To you both, peace and good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +They all arose from the table. The sheik and Ben-Hur remained looking after the +Egyptian until he was conducted out of the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“Sheik Ilderim,” said Ben-Hur then, “I have heard strange +things tonight. Give me leave, I pray, to walk by the lake that I may think of +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go; and I will come after you.” +</p> + +<p> +They washed their hands again; after which, at a sign from the master, a +servant brought Ben-Hur his shoes, and directly he went out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap44"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p> +Up a little way from the dower there was a cluster of palms, which threw its +shade half in the water, half on the land. A bulbul sang from the branches a +song of invitation. Ben-Hur stopped beneath to listen. At any other time the +notes of the bird would have driven thought away; but the story of the Egyptian +was a burden of wonder, and he was a laborer carrying it, and, like other +laborers, there was to him no music in the sweetest music until mind and body +were happily attuned by rest. +</p> + +<p> +The night was quiet. Not a ripple broke upon the shore. The old stars of the +old East were all out, each in its accustomed place; and there was summer +everywhere—on land, on lake, in the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s imagination was heated, his feelings aroused, his will all +unsettled. +</p> + +<p> +So the palms, the sky, the air, seemed to him of the far south zone into which +Balthasar had been driven by despair for men; the lake, with its motionless +surface, was a suggestion of the Nilotic mother by which the good man stood +praying when the Spirit made its radiant appearance. Had all these accessories +of the miracle come to Ben-Hur? or had he been transferred to them? And what if +the miracle should be repeated—and to him? He feared, yet wished, and +even waited for the vision. When at last his feverish mood was cooled, +permitting him to become himself, he was able to think. +</p> + +<p> +His scheme of life has been explained. In all reflection about it heretofore +there had been one hiatus which he had not been able to bridge or fill +up—one so broad he could see but vaguely to the other side of it. When, +finally, he was graduated a captain as well as a soldier, to what object should +he address his efforts? Revolution he contemplated, of course; but the +processes of revolution have always been the same, and to lead men into them +there have always been required, first, a cause or presence to enlist +adherents; second, an end, or something as a practical achievement. As a rule +he fights well who has wrongs to redress; but vastly better fights he who, with +wrongs as a spur, has also steadily before him a glorious result in +prospect—a result in which he can discern balm for wounds, compensation +for valor, remembrance and gratitude in the event of death. +</p> + +<p> +To determine the sufficiency of either the cause or the end, it was needful +that Ben-Hur should study the adherents to whom he looked when all was ready +for action. Very naturally, they were his countrymen. The wrongs of Israel were +to every son of Abraham, and each one was a cause vastly holy, vastly +inspiring. +</p> + +<p> +Ay, the cause was there; but the end—what should it be? +</p> + +<p> +The hours and days he had given this branch of his scheme were past +calculation—all with the same conclusion—a dim, uncertain, general +idea of national liberty. Was it sufficient? He could not say no, for that +would have been the death of his hope; he shrank from saying yes, because his +judgment taught him better. He could not assure himself even that Israel was +able single-handed to successfully combat Rome. He knew the resources of that +great enemy; he knew her art was superior to her resources. A universal +alliance might suffice, but, alas! that was impossible, except—and upon +the exception how long and earnestly he had dwelt!—except a hero would +come from one of the suffering nations, and by martial successes accomplish a +renown to fill the whole earth. What glory to Judea could she prove the +Macedonia of the new Alexander! Alas, again! Under the rabbis valor was +possible, but not discipline. And then the taunt of Messala in the garden of +Herod—“All you conquer in the six days, you lose on the +seventh.” +</p> + +<p> +So it happened he never approached the chasm thinking to surmount it, but he +was beaten back; and so incessantly had he failed in the object that he had +about given it over, except as a thing of chance. The hero might be discovered +in his day, or he might not. God only knew. Such his state of mind, there need +be no lingering upon the effect of Malluch’s skeleton recital of the +story of Balthasar. He heard it with a bewildering satisfaction—a feeling +that here was the solution of the trouble—here was the requisite hero +found at last; and he a son of the Lion tribe, and King of the Jews! Behind the +hero, lo! the world in arms. +</p> + +<p> +The king implied a kingdom; he was to be a warrior glorious as David, a ruler +wise and magnificent as Solomon; the kingdom was to be a power against which +Rome was to dash itself to pieces. There would be colossal war, and the agonies +of death and birth—then peace, meaning, of course, Judean dominion +forever. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s heart beat hard as for an instant he had a vision of Jerusalem +the capital of the world, and Zion, the site of the throne of the Universal +Master. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to the enthusiast rare fortune that the man who had seen the king was +at the tent to which he was going. He could see him there, and hear him, and +learn of him what all he knew of the coming change, especially all he knew of +the time of its happening. If it were at hand, the campaign with Maxentius +should be abandoned; and he would go and set about organizing and arming the +tribes, that Israel might be ready when the great day of the restoration began +to break. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as we have seen, from Balthasar himself Ben-Hur had the marvelous story. +Was he satisfied? +</p> + +<p> +There was a shadow upon him deeper than that of the cluster of palms—the +shadow of a great uncertainty, which—take note, O reader! which pertained +more to the kingdom than the king. +</p> + +<p> +“What of this kingdom? And what is it to be?” Ben-Hur asked himself +in thought. +</p> + +<p> +Thus early arose the questions which were to follow the Child to his end, and +survive him on earth—incomprehensible in his day, a dispute in +this—an enigma to all who do not or cannot understand that every man is +two in one—a deathless Soul and a mortal Body. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it to be?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +For us, O reader, the Child himself has answered; but for Ben-Hur there were +only the words of Balthasar, “On the earth, yet not of it—not for +men, but for their souls—a dominion, nevertheless, of unimaginable +glory.” +</p> + +<p> +What wonder the hapless youth found the phrases but the darkening of a riddle? +</p> + +<p> +“The hand of man is not in it,” he said, despairingly. “Nor +has the king of such a kingdom use for men; neither toilers, nor councillors, +nor soldiers. The earth must die or be made anew, and for government new +principles must be discovered—something besides armed +hands—something in place of Force. But what?” +</p> + +<p> +Again, O reader! +</p> + +<p> +That which we will not see, he could not. The power there is in Love had not +yet occurred to any man; much less had one come saying directly that for +government and its objects—peace and order—Love is better and +mightier than Force. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of his reverie a hand was laid upon his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a word to say, O son of Arrius,” said Ilderim, stopping by +his side—“a word, and then I must return, for the night is +going.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give you welcome, sheik.” +</p> + +<p> +“As to the things you have heard but now,” said Ilderim, almost +without pause, “take in belief all save that relating to the kind of +kingdom the Child will set up when he comes; as to so much keep virgin mind +until you hear Simonides the merchant—a good man here in Antioch, to whom +I will make you known. The Egyptian gives you coinage of his dreams which are +too good for the earth; Simonides is wiser; he will ring you the sayings of +your prophets, giving book and page, so you cannot deny that the Child will be +King of the Jews in fact—ay, by the splendor of God! a king as Herod was, +only better and far more magnificent. And then, see you, we will taste the +sweetness of vengeance. I have said. Peace to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay—sheik!” +</p> + +<p> +If Ilderim heard his call, he did not stay. +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides again!” said Ben-Hur, bitterly. “Simonides here, +Simonides there; from this one now, then from that! I am like to be well ridden +by my father’s servant, who knows at least to hold fast that which is +mine; wherefore he is richer, if indeed he be not wiser, than the Egyptian. By +the covenant! it is not to the faithless a man should go to find a faith to +keep—and I will not. But, hark! singing—and the voice a +woman’s—or an angel’s! It comes this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Down the lake towards the dower came a woman singing. Her voice floated along +the hushed water melodious as a flute, and louder growing each instant. +Directly the dipping of oars was heard in slow measure; a little later the +words were distinguishable—words in purest Greek, best fitted of all the +tongues of the day for the expression of passionate grief. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +THE LAMENT.<br> +(Egyptian.) +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I sigh as I sing for the story land<br> + Across the Syrian sea.<br> +The odorous winds from the musky sand<br> + Were breaths of life to me.<br> +They play with the plumes of the whispering palm<br> + For me, alas! no more;<br> +Nor more does the Nile in the moonlit calm<br> + Moan past the Memphian shore. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +O Nilus! thou god of my fainting soul!<br> + In dreams thou comest to me;<br> +And, dreaming, I play with the lotus bowl,<br> + And sing old songs to thee;<br> +And hear from afar the Memnonian strain,<br> + And calls from dear Simbel;<br> +And wake to a passion of grief and pain<br> + That e’er I said—Farewell! +</p> + +<br> +<p> +At the conclusion of the song the singer was past the cluster of palms. The +last word—farewell—floated past Ben-Hur weighted with all the sweet +sorrow of parting. The passing of the boat was as the passing of a deeper +shadow into the deeper night. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur drew a long breath hardly distinguishable from a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“I know her by the song—the daughter of Balthasar. How beautiful it +was! And how beautiful is she!” +</p> + +<p> +He recalled her large eyes curtained slightly by the drooping lids, the cheeks +oval and rosy rich, the lips full and deep with dimpling in the corners, and +all the grace of the tall lithe figure. +</p> + +<p> +“How beautiful she is!” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +And his heart made answer by a quickening of its movement. +</p> + +<p> +Then, almost the same instant, another face, younger and quite as +beautiful—more childlike and tender, if not so passionate—appeared +as if held up to him out of the lake. +</p> + +<p> +“Esther!” he said, smiling. “As I wished, a star has been +sent to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned, and passed slowly back to the tent. +</p> + +<p> +His life had been crowded with griefs and with vengeful preparations—too +much crowded for love. Was this the beginning of a happy change? +</p> + +<p> +And if the influence went with him into the tent, whose was it? Esther had +given him a cup. So had the Egyptian. And both had come to him at the same time +under the palms. +</p> + +<p> +Which? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book05"></a>BOOK FIFTH</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Only the actions of the just<br> +Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.”<br> + SHIRLEY.<br> +<br> +“And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law,<br> +In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.”<br> + WORDSWORTH. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap45"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +The morning after the bacchanalia in the saloon of the palace, the divan was +covered with young patricians. Maxentius might come, and the city throng to +receive him; the legion might descend from Mount Sulpius in glory of arms and +armor; from Nymphaeum to Omphalus there might be ceremonial splendors to shame +the most notable ever before seen or heard of in the gorgeous East; yet would +the many continue to sleep ignominiously on the divan where they had fallen or +been carelessly tumbled by the indifferent slaves; that they would be able to +take part in the reception that day was about as possible as for the +lay-figures in the studio of a modern artist to rise and go bonneted and plumed +through the one, two, three of a waltz. +</p> + +<p> +Not all, however, who participated in the orgy were in the shameful condition. +When dawn began to peer through the skylights of the saloon, Messala arose, and +took the chaplet from his head, in sign that the revel was at end; then he +gathered his robe about him, gave a last look at the scene, and, without a +word, departed for his quarters. Cicero could not have retired with more +gravity from a night-long senatorial debate. +</p> + +<p> +Three hours afterwards two couriers entered his room, and from his own hand +received each a despatch, sealed and in duplicate, and consisting chiefly of a +letter to Valerius Gratus, the procurator, still resident in Cæsarea. The +importance attached to the speedy and certain delivery of the paper may be +inferred. One courier was to proceed overland, the other by sea; both were to +make the utmost haste. +</p> + +<p> +It is of great concern now that the reader should be fully informed of the +contents of the letter thus forwarded, and it is accordingly given: +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“ANTIOCH, XII. Kal. Jul. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“Messala to Gratus. +</p> + +<p> +“O my Midas! +</p> + +<p> +“I pray thou take no offense at the address, seeing it is one of love and +gratitude, and an admission that thou art most fortunate among men; seeing, +also, that thy ears are as they were derived from thy mother, only +proportionate to thy matured condition. +</p> + +<p> +“O my Midas! +</p> + +<p> +“I have to relate to thee an astonishing event, which, though as yet +somewhat in the field of conjecture, will, I doubt not, justify thy instant +consideration. +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me first to revive thy recollection. Remember, a good many years +ago, a family of a prince of Jerusalem, incredibly ancient and vastly +rich—by name Ben-Hur. If thy memory have a limp or ailment of any kind, +there is, if I mistake not, a wound on thy head which may help thee to a +revival of the circumstance. +</p> + +<p> +“Next, to arouse thy interest. In punishment of the attempt upon thy +life—for dear repose of conscience, may all the gods forbid it should +ever prove to have been an accident!—the family were seized and summarily +disposed of, and their property confiscated. And inasmuch, O my Midas! as the +action had the approval of our Cæsar, who was as just as he was wise—be +there flowers upon his altars forever!—there should be no shame in +referring to the sums which were realized to us respectively from that source, +for which it is not possible I can ever cease to be grateful to thee, certainly +not while I continue, as at present, in the uninterrupted enjoyment of the part +which fell to me. +</p> + +<p> +“In vindication of thy wisdom—a quality for which, as I am now +advised, the son of Gordius, to whom I have boldly likened thee, was never +distinguished among men or gods—I recall further that thou didst make +disposition of the family of Hur, both of us at the time supposing the plan hit +upon to be the most effective possible for the purposes in view, which were +silence and delivery over to inevitable but natural death. Thou wilt remember +what thou didst with the mother and sister of the malefactor; yet, if now I +yield to a desire to learn whether they be living or dead, I know, from knowing +the amiability of thy nature, O my Gratus, that thou wilt pardon me as one +scarcely less amiable than thyself. +</p> + +<p> +“As more immediately essential to the present business, however, I take +the liberty of inviting to thy remembrance that the actual criminal was sent to +the galleys a slave for life—so the precept ran; and it may serve to make +the event which I am about to relate the more astonishing by saying here that I +saw and read the receipt for his body delivered in course to the tribune +commanding a galley. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou mayst begin now to give me more especial heed, O my most excellent +Phrygian! +</p> + +<p> +“Referring to the limit of life at the oar, the outlaw thus justly +disposed of should be dead, or, better speaking, some one of the three thousand +Oceanides should have taken him to husband at least five years ago. And if thou +wilt excuse a momentary weakness, O most virtuous and tender of men! inasmuch +as I loved him in childhood, and also because he was very handsome—I used +in much admiration to call him my Ganymede—he ought in right to have +fallen into the arms of the most beautiful daughter of the family. Of opinion, +however, that he was certainly dead, I have lived quite five years in calm and +innocent enjoyment of the fortune for which I am in a degree indebted to him. I +make the admission of indebtedness without intending it to diminish my +obligation to thee. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I am at the very point of interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Last night, while acting as master of the feast for a party just from +Rome—their extreme youth and inexperience appealed to my +compassion—I heard a singular story. Maxentius, the consul, as you know, +comes to-day to conduct a campaign against the Parthians. Of the ambitious who +are to accompany him there is one, a son of the late duumvir Quintus Arrius. I +had occasion to inquire about him particularly. When Arrius set out in pursuit +of the pirates, whose defeat gained him his final honors, he had no family; +when he returned from the expedition, he brought back with him an heir. Now be +thou composed as becomes the owner of so many talents in ready sestertii! The +son and heir of whom I speak is he whom thou didst send to the +galleys—the very Ben-Hur who should have died at his oar five years +ago—returned now with fortune and rank, and possibly as a Roman citizen, +to— Well, thou art too firmly seated to be alarmed, but I, O my Midas! I +am in danger—no need to tell thee of what. Who should know, if thou dost +not? +</p> + +<p> +“Sayst thou to all this, tut-tut? +</p> + +<p> +“When Arrius, the father, by adoption, of this apparition from the arms +of the most beautiful of the Oceanides (see above my opinion of what she should +be), joined battle with the pirates, his vessel was sunk, and but two of all +her crew escaped drowning—Arrius himself and this one, his heir. +</p> + +<p> +“The officers who took them from the plank on which they were floating +say the associate of the fortunate tribune was a young man who, when lifted to +the deck, was in the dress of a galley slave. +</p> + +<p> +“This should be convincing, to say least; but lest thou say tut-tut +again, I tell thee, O my Midas! that yesterday, by good chance—I have a +vow to Fortune in consequence—I met the mysterious son of Arrius face to +face; and I declare now that, though I did not then recognize him, he is the +very Ben-Hur who was for years my playmate; the very Ben-Hur who, if he be a +man, though of the commonest grade, must this very moment of my writing be +thinking of vengeance—for so would I were I he—vengeance not to be +satisfied short of life; vengeance for country, mother, sister, self, +and—I say it last, though thou mayst think it would be first—for +fortune lost. +</p> + +<p> +“By this time, O good my benefactor and friend! my Gratus! in +consideration of thy sestertii in peril, their loss being the worst which could +befall one of thy high estate—I quit calling thee after the foolish old +King of Phrygia—by this time, I say (meaning after having read me so +far), I have faith to believe thou hast ceased saying tut-tut, and art ready to +think what ought to be done in such emergency. +</p> + +<p> +“It were vulgar to ask thee now what shall be done. Rather let me say I +am thy client; or, better yet, thou art my Ulysses whose part it is to give me +sound direction. +</p> + +<p> +“And I please myself thinking I see thee when this letter is put into thy +hand. I see thee read it once; thy countenance all gravity, and then again with +a smile; then, hesitation ended, and thy judgment formed, it is this, or it is +that; wisdom like Mercury’s, promptitude like Cæsar’s. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun is now fairly risen. An hour hence two messengers will depart +from my door, each with a sealed copy hereof; one of them will go by land, the +other by sea, so important do I regard it that thou shouldst be early and +particularly informed of the appearance of our enemy in this part of our Roman +world. +</p> + +<p> +“I will await thy answer here. +</p> + +<p> +“Ben-Hur’s going and coming will of course be regulated by his +master, the consul, who, though he exert himself without rest day and night, +cannot get away under a month. Thou knowest what work it is to assemble and +provide for an army destined to operate in a desolate, townless country. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the Jew yesterday in the Grove of Daphne; and if he be not there +now, he is certainly in the neighborhood, making it easy for me to keep him in +eye. Indeed, wert thou to ask me where he is now, I should say, with the most +positive assurance, he is to be found at the old Orchard of Palms, under the +tent of the traitor Sheik Ilderim, who cannot long escape our strong hand. Be +not surprised if Maxentius, as his first measure, places the Arab on ship for +forwarding to Rome. +</p> + +<p> +“I am so particular about the whereabouts of the Jew because it will be +important to thee, O illustrious! when thou comest to consider what is to be +done; for already I know, and by the knowledge I flatter myself I am growing in +wisdom, that in every scheme involving human action there are three elements +always to be taken into account—time, place, and agency. +</p> + +<p> +“If thou sayest this is the place, have thou then no hesitancy in +trusting the business to thy most loving friend, who would be thy aptest +scholar as well. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +MESSALA.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap46"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +About the time the couriers departed from Messala’s door with the +despatches (it being yet the early morning hour), Ben-Hur entered +Ilderim’s tent. He had taken a plunge into the lake, and breakfasted, and +appeared now in an under-tunic, sleeveless, and with skirt scarcely reaching to +the knee. +</p> + +<p> +The sheik saluted him from the divan. +</p> + +<p> +“I give thee peace, son of Arrius,” he said, with admiration, for, +in truth, he had never seen a more perfect illustration of glowing, powerful, +confident manhood. “I give thee peace and good-will. The horses are +ready, I am ready. And thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“The peace thou givest me, good sheik, I give thee in return. I thank +thee for so much good-will. I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim clapped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I will have the horses brought. Be seated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are they yoked?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then suffer me to serve myself,” said Ben-Hur. “It is +needful that I make the acquaintance of thy Arabs. I must know them by name, O +sheik, that I may speak to them singly; nor less must I know their temper, for +they are like men: if bold, the better of scolding; if timid, the better of +praise and flattery. Let the servants bring me the harness.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the chariot?” asked the sheik. +</p> + +<p> +“I will let the chariot alone to-day. In its place, let them bring me a +fifth horse, if thou hast it; he should be barebacked, and fleet as the +others.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s wonder was aroused, and he summoned a servant immediately. +</p> + +<p> +“Bid them bring the harness for the four,” he said—“the +harness for the four, and the bridle for Sirius.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim then arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Sirius is my love, and I am his, O son of Arrius. We have been comrades +for twenty years—in tent, in battle, in all stages of the desert we have +been comrades. I will show him to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Going to the division curtain, he held it, while Ben-Hur passed under. The +horses came to him in a body. One with a small head, luminous eyes, neck like +the segment of a bended bow, and mighty chest, curtained thickly by a profusion +of mane soft and wavy as a damsel’s locks, nickered low and gladly at +sight of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good horse,” said the sheik, patting the dark-brown cheek. +“Good horse, good-morning.” Turning then to Ben-Hur, he added, +“This is Sirius, father of the four here. Mira, the mother, awaits our +return, being too precious to be hazarded in a region where there is a stronger +hand than mine. And much I doubt,” he laughed as he +spoke—“much I doubt, O son of Arrius, if the tribe could endure her +absence. She is their glory; they worship her; did she gallop over them, they +would laugh. Ten thousand horsemen, sons of the desert, will ask to-day, +‘Have you heard of Mira?’ And to the answer, ‘She is +well,’ they will say, ‘God is good! blessed be God!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Mira—Sirius—names of stars, are they not, O sheik?” +asked Ben-Hur, going to each of the four, and to the sire, offering his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“And why not?” replied Ilderim. “Wert thou ever abroad on the +desert at night?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then thou canst not know how much we Arabs depend upon the stars. We +borrow their names in gratitude, and give them in love. My fathers all had +their Miras, as I have mine; and these children are stars no less. There, see +thou, is Rigel, and there Antares; that one is Atair, and he whom thou goest to +now is Aldebaran, the youngest of the brood, but none the worse of +that—no, not he! Against the wind he will carry thee till it roar in thy +ears like Akaba; and he will go where thou sayest, son of Arrius—ay, by +the glory of Solomon! he will take thee to the lion’s jaws, if thou +darest so much.” +</p> + +<p> +The harness was brought. With his own hands Ben-Hur equipped the horses; with +his own hands he led them out of the tent, and there attached the reins. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me Sirius,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +An Arab could not have better sprung to seat on the courser’s back. +</p> + +<p> +“And now the reins.” +</p> + +<p> +They were given him, and carefully separated. +</p> + +<p> +“Good sheik,” he said, “I am ready. Let a guide go before me +to the field, and send some of thy men with water.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no trouble at starting. The horses were not afraid. Already there +seemed a tacit understanding between them and the new driver, who had performed +his part calmly, and with the confidence which always begets confidence. The +order of going was precisely that of driving, except that Ben-Hur sat upon +Sirius instead of standing in the chariot. Ilderim’s spirit arose. He +combed his beard, and smiled with satisfaction as he muttered, “He is not +a Roman, no, by the splendor of God!” He followed on foot, the entire +tenantry of the dowar—men, women, and children—pouring after him, +participants all in his solicitude, if not in his confidence. +</p> + +<p> +The field, when reached, proved ample and well fitted for the training, which +Ben-Hur began immediately by driving the four at first slowly, and in +perpendicular lines, and then in wide circles. Advancing a step in the course, +he put them next into a trot; again progressing, he pushed into a gallop; at +length he contracted the circles, and yet later drove eccentrically here and +there, right, left, forward, and without a break. An hour was thus occupied. +Slowing the gait to a walk, he drove up to Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“The work is done, nothing now but practice,” he said. “I +give you joy, Sheik Ilderim, that you have such servants as these. See,” +he continued, dismounting and going to the horses, “see, the gloss of +their red coats is without spot; they breathe lightly as when I began. I give +thee great joy, and it will go hard if”—he turned his flashing eyes +upon the old man’s face—“if we have not the victory and +our—” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, colored, bowed. At the sheik’s side he observed, for the +first time, Balthasar, leaning upon his staff, and two women closely veiled. At +one of the latter he looked a second time, saying to himself, with a flutter +about his heart, “’Tis she—’tis the Egyptian!” +Ilderim picked up his broken sentence— +</p> + +<p> +“The victory, and our revenge!” Then he said aloud, “I am not +afraid; I am glad. Son of Arrius, thou art the man. Be the end like the +beginning, and thou shalt see of what stuff is the lining of the hand of an +Arab who is able to give.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank thee, good sheik,” Ben-Hur returned, modestly. “Let +the servants bring drink for the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +With his own hands he gave the water. +</p> + +<p> +Remounting Sirius, he renewed the training, going as before from walk to trot, +from trot to gallop; finally, he pushed the steady racers into the run, +gradually quickening it to full speed. The performance then became exciting; +and there were applause for the dainty handling of the reins, and admiration +for the four, which were the same, whether they flew forward or wheeled in +varying curvature. In their action there were unity, power, grace, pleasure, +all without effort or sign of labor. The admiration was unmixed with pity or +reproach, which would have been as well bestowed upon swallows in their evening +flight. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the exercises, and the attention they received from all the +bystanders, Malluch came upon the ground, seeking the sheik. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a message for you, O sheik,” he said, availing himself of a +moment he supposed favorable for the speech—“a message from +Simonides, the merchant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides!” ejaculated the Arab. “Ah! ’tis well. May +Abaddon take all his enemies!” +</p> + +<p> +“He bade me give thee first the holy peace of God,” Malluch +continued; “and then this despatch, with prayer that thou read it the +instant of receipt.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim, standing in his place, broke the sealing of the package delivered to +him, and from a wrapping of fine linen took two letters, which he proceeded to +read. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[No. 1.] +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides to Sheik Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“O friend! +</p> + +<p> +“Assure thyself first of a place in my inner heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Then— +</p> + +<p> +“There is in thy dowar a youth of fair presence, calling himself the son +of Arrius; and such he is by adoption. +</p> + +<p> +“He is very dear to me. +</p> + +<p> +“He hath a wonderful history, which I will tell thee; come thou to-day or +to-morrow, that I may tell thee the history, and have thy counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“Meantime, favor all his requests, so they be not against honor. Should +there be need of reparation, I am bound to thee for it. +</p> + +<p> +“That I have interest in this youth, keep thou private. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember me to thy other guest. He, his daughter, thyself, and all whom +thou mayst choose to be of thy company, must depend upon me at the Circus the +day of the games. I have seats already engaged. +</p> + +<p> +“To thee and all thine, peace. +</p> + +<p> +“What should I be, O my friend, but thy friend? +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“SIMONIDES.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[No. 2.] +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides to Sheik Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“O friend! +</p> + +<p> +“Out of the abundance of my experience, I send you a word. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a sign which all persons not Romans, and who have moneys or +goods subject to despoilment, accept as warning—that is, the arrival at a +seat of power of some high Roman official charged with authority. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day comes the Consul Maxentius. +</p> + +<p> +“Be thou warned! +</p> + +<p> +“Another word of advice. +</p> + +<p> +“A conspiracy, to be of effect against thee, O friend, must include the +Herods as parties; thou hast great properties in their dominions. +</p> + +<p> +“Wherefore keep thou watch. +</p> + +<p> +“Send this morning to thy trusty keepers of the roads leading south from +Antioch, and bid them search every courier going and coming; if they find +private despatches relating to thee or thine affairs, THOU SHOULDST SEE THEM. +</p> + +<p> +“You should have received this yesterday, though it is not too late, if +you act promptly. +</p> + +<p> +“If couriers left Antioch this morning, your messengers know the byways, +and can get before them with your orders. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not hesitate. +</p> + +<p> +“Burn this after reading. +</p> + +<p> +“O my friend! thy friend, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +“SIMONIDES.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim read the letters a second time, and refolded them in the linen wrap, +and put the package under his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +The exercises in the field continued but a little longer—in all about two +hours. At their conclusion, Ben-Hur brought the four to a walk, and drove to +Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“With leave, O sheik,” he said, “I will return thy Arabs to +the tent, and bring them out again this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim walked to him as he sat on Sirius, and said, “I give them to you, +son of Arrius, to do with as you will until after the games. You have done with +them in two hours what the Roman—may jackals gnaw his bones +fleshless!—could not in as many weeks. We will win—by the splendor +of God, we will win!” +</p> + +<p> +At the tent Ben-Hur remained with the horses while they were being cared for; +then, after a plunge in the lake and a cup of arrack with the sheik, whose flow +of spirits was royally exuberant, he dressed himself in his Jewish garb again, +and walked with Malluch on into the Orchard. +</p> + +<p> +There was much conversation between the two, not all of it important. One part, +however, must not be overlooked. Ben-Hur was speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“I will give you,” he said, “an order for my property stored +in the khan this side the river by the Seleucian Bridge. Bring it to me to-day, +if you can. And, good Malluch—if I do not overtask you—” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch protested heartily his willingness to be of service. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Malluch, thank you,” said Ben-Hur. “I will take +you at your word, remembering that we are brethren of the old tribe, and that +the enemy is a Roman. First, then—as you are a man of business, which I +much fear Sheik Ilderim is not—” +</p> + +<p> +“Arabs seldom are,” said Malluch, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I do not impeach their shrewdness, Malluch. It is well, however, to +look after them. To save all forfeit or hindrance in connection with the race, +you would put me perfectly at rest by going to the office of the Circus, and +seeing that he has complied with every preliminary rule; and if you can get a +copy of the rules, the service may be of great avail to me. I would like to +know the colors I am to wear, and particularly the number of the crypt I am to +occupy at the starting; if it be next Messala’s on the right or left, it +is well; if not, and you can have it changed so as to bring me next the Roman, +do so. Have you good memory, Malluch?” +</p> + +<p> +“It has failed me, but never, son of Arrius, where the heart helped it as +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will venture, then, to charge you with one further service. I saw +yesterday that Messala was proud of his chariot, as he might be, for the best +of Cæsar’s scarcely surpass it. Can you not make its display an excuse +which will enable you to find if it be light or heavy? I would like to have its +exact weight and measurements—and, Malluch, though you fail in all else, +bring me exactly the height his axle stands above the ground. You understand, +Malluch? I do not wish him to have any actual advantage of me. I do not care +for his splendor; if I beat him, it will make his fall the harder, and my +triumph the more complete. If there are advantages really important, I want +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see, I see!” said Malluch. “A line dropped from the centre +of the axle is what you want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast it; and be glad, Malluch—it is the last of my +commissions. Let us return to the dowar.” +</p> + +<p> +At the door of the tent they found a servant replenishing the smoke-stained +bottles of leben freshly made, and stopped to refresh themselves. Shortly +afterwards Malluch returned to the city. +</p> + +<p> +During their absence, a messenger well mounted had been despatched with orders +as suggested by Simonides. He was an Arab, and carried nothing written. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap47"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +“Iras, the daughter of Balthasar, sends me with salutation and a +message,” said a servant to Ben-Hur, who was taking his ease in the tent. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the message.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would it please you to accompany her upon the lake?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will carry the answer myself. Tell her so.” +</p> + +<p> +His shoes were brought him, and in a few minutes Ben-Hur sallied out to find +the fair Egyptian. The shadow of the mountains was creeping over the Orchard of +Palms in advance of night. Afar through the trees came the tinkling of sheep +bells, the lowing of cattle, and the voices of the herdsmen bringing their +charges home. Life at the Orchard, it should be remembered, was in all respects +as pastoral as life on the scantier meadows of the desert. +</p> + +<p> +Sheik Ilderim had witnessed the exercises of the afternoon, being a repetition +of those of the morning; after which he had gone to the city in answer to the +invitation of Simonides; he might return in the night; but, considering the +immensity of the field to be talked over with his friend, it was hardly +possible. Ben-Hur, thus left alone, had seen his horses cared for; cooled and +purified himself in the lake; exchanged the field garb for his customary +vestments, all white, as became a Sadducean of the pure blood; supped early; +and, thanks to the strength of youth, was well recovered from the violent +exertion he had undergone. +</p> + +<p> +It is neither wise nor honest to detract from beauty as a quality. There cannot +be a refined soul insensible to its influence. The story of Pygmalion and his +statue is as natural as it is poetical. Beauty is of itself a power; and it was +now drawing Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian was to him a wonderfully beautiful woman—beautiful of face, +beautiful of form. In his thought she always appeared to him as he saw her at +the fountain; and he felt the influence of her voice, sweeter because in +tearful expression of gratitude to him, and of her eyes—the large, soft, +black, almond-shaped eyes declarative of her race—eyes which looked more +than lies in the supremest wealth of words to utter; and recurrences of the +thought of her were returns just so frequent of a figure tall, slender, +graceful, refined, wrapped in rich and floating drapery, wanting nothing but a +fitting mind to make her, like the Shulamite, and in the same sense, terrible +as an army with banners. In other words, as she returned to his fancy, the +whole passionate Song of Solomon came with her, inspired by her presence. With +this sentiment and that feeling, he was going to see if she actually justified +them. It was not love that was taking him, but admiration and curiosity, which +might be the heralds of love. +</p> + +<p> +The landing was a simple affair, consisting of a short stairway, and a platform +garnished by some lamp-posts; yet at the top of the steps he paused, arrested +by what he beheld. +</p> + +<p> +There was a shallop resting upon the clear water lightly as an egg-shell. An +Ethiop—the camel-driver at the Castalian fount—occupied the +rower’s place, his blackness intensified by a livery of shining white. +All the boat aft was cushioned and carpeted with stuffs brilliant with Tyrian +red. On the rudder seat sat the Egyptian herself, sunk in Indian shawls and a +very vapor of most delicate veils and scarfs. Her arms were bare to the +shoulders; and, not merely faultless in shape, they had the effect of +compelling attention to them—their pose, their action, their expression; +the hands, the fingers even, seemed endowed with graces and meaning; each was +an object of beauty. The shoulders and neck were protected from the evening air +by an ample scarf, which yet did not hide them. +</p> + +<p> +In the glance he gave her, Ben-Hur paid no attention to these details. There +was simply an impression made upon him; and, like strong light, it was a +sensation, not a thing of sight or enumeration. Thy lips are like a thread of +scarlet; thy temples are like a piece of pomegranate within thy locks. Rise up, +my love, my fair one, and come away; for, lo! the winter is past, the rain is +over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of +birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land—such was +the impression she made upon him translated into words. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” she said, observing him stop, “come, or I shall think +you a poor sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +The red of his cheek deepened. Did she know anything of his life upon the sea? +He descended to the platform at once. +</p> + +<p> +“I was afraid,” he said, as he took the vacant seat before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of sinking the boat,” he replied, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait until we are in deeper water,” she said, giving a signal to +the black, who dipped the oars, and they were off. +</p> + +<p> +If love and Ben-Hur were enemies, the latter was never more at mercy. The +Egyptian sat where he could not but see her; she, whom he had already engrossed +in memory as his ideal of the Shulamite. With her eyes giving light to his, the +stars might come out, and he not see them; and so they did. The night might +fall with unrelieved darkness everywhere else; her look would make illumination +for him. And then, as everybody knows, given youth and such companionship, +there is no situation in which the fancy takes such complete control as upon +tranquil waters under a calm night sky, warm with summer. It is so easy at such +time to glide imperceptibly out of the commonplace into the ideal. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the rudder,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied, “that were to reverse the relation. Did I +not ask you to ride with me? I am indebted to you, and would begin payment. You +may talk and I will listen, or I will talk and you will listen: that choice is +yours; but it shall be mine to choose where we go, and the way thither.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where may that be?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are alarmed again.” +</p> + +<p> +“O fair Egyptian, I but asked you the first question of every +captive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call me Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would rather call you Iras.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may think of me by that name, but call me Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Egypt is a country, and means many people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes! And such a country!” +</p> + +<p> +“I see; it is to Egypt we are going.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would we were! I would be so glad.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“You have no care for me, then,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, by that I know you were never there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is the land where there are no unhappy people, the desired of all +the rest of the earth, the mother of all the gods, and therefore supremely +blest. There, O son of Arrius, there the happy find increase of happiness, and +the wretched, going, drink once of the sweet water of the sacred river, and +laugh and sing, rejoicing like children.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are not the very poor with you there as elsewhere?” +</p> + +<p> +“The very poor in Egypt are the very simple in wants and ways,” she +replied. “They have no wish beyond enough, and how little that is, a +Greek or a Roman cannot know.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am neither Greek nor Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a garden of roses, and in the midst of it is a tree, and its +bloom is the richest of all. Whence came it, think you?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Persia, the home of the rose.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“From India, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! one of the isles of Greece.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you,” she said: “a traveller found it perishing +by the roadside on the plain of Rephaim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, in Judea!” +</p> + +<p> +“I put it in the earth left bare by the receding Nile, and the soft south +wind blew over the desert and nursed it, and the sun kissed it in pity; after +which it could not else than grow and flourish. I stand in its shade now, and +it thanks me with much perfume. As with the roses, so with the men of Israel. +Where shall they reach perfection but in Egypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Moses was but one of millions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, there was a reader of dreams. Will you forget him?” +</p> + +<p> +“The friendly Pharaohs are dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes! The river by which they dwelt sings to them in their tombs; yet +the same sun tempers the same air to the same people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alexandria is but a Roman town.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has but exchanged sceptres. Cæsar took from her that of the sword, +and in its place left that of learning. Go with me to the Brucheium, and I will +show you the college of nations; to the Serapeion, and see the perfection of +architecture; to the Library, and read the immortals; to the theatre, and hear +the heroics of the Greeks and Hindoos; to the quay, and count the triumphs of +commerce; descend with me into the streets, O son of Arrius, and, when the +philosophers have dispersed, and taken with them the masters of all the arts, +and all the gods have home their votaries, and nothing remains of the day but +its pleasures, you shall hear the stories that have amused men from the +beginning, and the songs which will never, never die.” +</p> + +<p> +As he listened, Ben-Hur was carried back to the night when, in the summer-house +in Jerusalem, his mother, in much the same poetry of patriotism, declaimed the +departed glories of Israel. +</p> + +<p> +“I see now why you wish to be called Egypt. Will you sing me a song if I +call you by that name? I heard you last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was a hymn of the Nile,” she answered, “a lament which +I sing when I would fancy I smell the breath of the desert, and hear the surge +of the dear old river; let me rather give you a piece of the Indian mind. When +we get to Alexandria, I will take you to the corner of the street where you can +hear it from the daughter of the Ganga, who taught it to me. Kapila, you should +know, was one of the most revered of the Hindoo sages.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as if it were a natural mode of expression, she began the song. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +KAPILA. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Kapila, Kapila, so young and true,<br> + I yearn for a glory like thine,<br> +And hail thee from battle to ask anew,<br> + Can ever thy Valor be mine? +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Kapila sat on his charger dun,<br> + A hero never so grave:<br> +‘Who loveth all things hath fear of none,<br> + ’Tis love that maketh me brave.<br> +A woman gave me her soul one day,<br> +The soul of my soul to be alway;<br> + Thence came my Valor to me,<br> + Go try it—try it—and see.’ +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +II. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Kapila, Kapila, so old and gray,<br> + The queen is calling for me;<br> +But ere I go hence, I wish thou wouldst say,<br> + How Wisdom first came to thee. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Kapila stood in his temple door,<br> + A priest in eremite guise:<br> +‘It did not come as men get their lore,<br> + ’Tis faith that maketh me wise.<br> +A woman gave me her heart one day,<br> +The heart of my heart to be alway;<br> + Thence came my Wisdom to me,<br> + Go try it—try it—and see.’” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur had not time to express his thanks for the song before the keel of the +boat grated upon the underlying sand, and, next moment, the bow ran upon the +shore. +</p> + +<p> +“A quick voyage, O Egypt!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“And a briefer stay!” she replied, as, with a strong push, the +black sent them shooting into the open water again. +</p> + +<p> +“You will give me the rudder now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no,” said she, laughing. “To you, the chariot; to me, the +boat. We are merely at the lake’s end, and the lesson is that I must not +sing any more. Having been to Egypt, let us now to the Grove of Daphne.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without a song on the way?” he said, in deprecation. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me something of the Roman from whom you saved us to-day,” she +asked. +</p> + +<p> +The request struck Ben-Hur unpleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish this were the Nile,” he said, evasively. “The kings +and queens, having slept so long, might come down from their tombs, and ride +with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“They were of the colossi, and would sink our boat. The pygmies would be +preferable. But tell me of the Roman. He is very wicked, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he of noble family, and rich?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot speak of his riches.” +</p> + +<p> +“How beautiful his horses were! and the bed of his chariot was gold, and +the wheels ivory. And his audacity! The bystanders laughed as he rode away; +they, who were so nearly under his wheels!” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed at the recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“They were rabble,” said Ben-Hur, bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“He must be one of the monsters who are said to be growing up in +Rome—Apollos ravenous as Cerberus. Does he reside in Antioch?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is of the East somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“Egypt would suit him better than Syria.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly,” Ben-Hur replied. “Cleopatra is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +That instant the lamps burning before the door of the tent came into view. +</p> + +<p> +“The dowar!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then, we have not been to Egypt. I have not seen Karnak or Philae or +Abydos. This is not the Nile. I have but heard a song of India, and been +boating in a dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Philae—Karnak. Mourn rather that you have not seen the Rameses at +Aboo Simbel, looking at which makes it so easy to think of God, the maker of +the heavens and earth. Or why should you mourn at all? Let us go on to the +river; and if I cannot sing”—she laughed—“because I +have said I would not, yet I can tell you stories of Egypt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on! Ay, till morning comes, and the evening, and the next +morning!” he said, vehemently. +</p> + +<p> +“Of what shall my stories be? Of the mathematicians?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the philosophers?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the magicians and genii?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of war?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of love?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you a cure for love. It is the story of a queen. Listen +reverently. The papyrus from which it was taken by the priests of Philae was +wrested from the hand of the heroine herself. It is correct in form, and must +be true: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +NE-NE-HOFRA. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +I. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no parallelism in human lives. +</p> + +<p> +“No life runs a straight line. +</p> + +<p> +“The most perfect life develops as a circle, and terminates in its +beginning, making it impossible to say, This is the commencement, that the end. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect lives are the treasures of God; of great days he wears them on +the ring-finger of his heart hand.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +II. +</p> + +<p> +“Ne-ne-hofra dwelt in a house close by Essouan, yet closer to the first +cataract—so close, indeed, that the sound of the eternal battle waged +there between river and rocks was of the place a part. +</p> + +<p> +“She grew in beauty day by day, so that it was said of her, as of the +poppies in her father’s garden, What will she not be in the time of +blooming? +</p> + +<p> +“Each year of her life was the beginning of a new song more delightful +than any of those which went before. +</p> + +<p> +“Child was she of a marriage between the North, bounded by the sea, and +the South, bounded by the desert beyond the Luna mountains; and one gave her +its passion, the other its genius; so when they beheld her, both laughed, +saying, not meanly, ‘She is mine,’ but generously, ‘Ha, ha! +she is ours.’ +</p> + +<p> +“All excellences in nature contributed to her perfection and rejoiced in +her presence. Did she come or go, the birds ruffled their wings in greeting; +the unruly winds sank to cooling zephyrs; the white lotus rose from the +water’s depth to look at her; the solemn river loitered on its way; the +palm-trees, nodding, shook all their plumes; and they seemed to say, this one, +I gave her of my grace; that, I gave her of my brightness; the other, I gave +her of my purity: and so each as it had a virtue to give. +</p> + +<p> +“At twelve, Ne-ne-hofra was the delight of Essouan; at sixteen, the fame +of her beauty was universal; at twenty, there was never a day which did not +bring to her door princes of the desert on swift camels, and lords of Egypt in +gilded barges; and, going away disconsolate, they reported everywhere, ‘I +have seen her, and she is not a woman, but Athor herself.’” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +III. +</p> + +<p> +“Now of the three hundred and thirty successors of good King Menes, +eighteen were Ethiopians, of whom Oraetes was one hundred and ten years old. He +had reigned seventy-six years. Under him the people thrived, and the land +groaned with fatness of plenty. He practised wisdom because, having seen so +much, he knew what it was. He dwelt in Memphis, having there his principal +palace, his arsenals, and his treasure-house. Frequently he went down to Butos +to talk with Latona. +</p> + +<p> +“The wife of the good king died. Too old was she for perfect embalmment; +yet he loved her, and mourned as the inconsolable; seeing which, a colchyte +presumed one day to speak to him. +</p> + +<p> +“‘O Oraetes, I am astonished that one so wise and great should not +know how to cure a sorrow like this.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Tell me a cure,’ said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Three times the colchyte kissed the floor, and then he replied, knowing +the dead could not hear him, ‘At Essouan lives Ne-ne-hofra, beautiful as +Athor the beautiful. Send for her. She has refused all the lords and princes, +and I know not how many kings; but who can say no to Oraetes?’” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +IV. +</p> + +<p> +“Ne-ne-hofra descended the Nile in a barge richer than any ever before +seen, attended by an army in barges each but a little less fine. All Nubia and +Egypt, and a myriad from Libya, and a host of Troglodytes, and not a few +Macrobii from beyond the Mountains of the Moon, lined the tented shores to see +the cortege pass, wafted by perfumed winds and golden oars. +</p> + +<p> +“Through a dromos of sphinxes and couchant double-winged lions she was +borne, and set down before Oraetes sitting on a throne specially erected at the +sculptured pylon of the palace. He raised her up, gave her place by his side, +clasped the uraeus upon her arm, kissed her, and Ne-ne-hofra was queen of all +queens. +</p> + +<p> +“That was not enough for the wise Oraetes; he wanted love, and a queen +happy in his love. So he dealt with her tenderly, showing her his possessions, +cities, palaces, people; his armies, his ships: and with his own hand he led +her through his treasure-house, saying, ‘O. Ne-ne-hofra! but kiss me in +love, and they are all thine.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And, thinking she could be happy, if she was not then, she kissed him +once, twice, thrice—kissed him thrice, his hundred and ten years +notwithstanding. +</p> + +<p> +“The first year she was happy, and it was very short; the third year she +was wretched, and it was very long; then she was enlightened: that which she +thought love of Oraetes was only daze of his power. Well for her had the daze +endured! Her spirits deserted her; she had long spells of tears, and her women +could not remember when they heard her laugh; of the roses on her cheeks only +ashes remained; she languished and faded gradually, but certainly. Some said +she was haunted by the Erinnyes for cruelty to a lover; others, that she was +stricken by some god envious of Oraetes. Whatever the cause of her decline, the +charms of the magicians availed not to restore her, and the prescript of the +doctor was equally without virtue. Ne-ne-hofra was given over to die. +</p> + +<p> +“Oraetes chose a crypt for her up in the tombs of the queens; and, +calling the master sculptors and painters to Memphis, he set them to work upon +designs more elaborate than any even in the great galleries of the dead kings. +</p> + +<p> +“‘O thou beautiful as Athor herself, my queen!’ said the +king, whose hundred and thirteen years did not lessen his ardor as a lover, +‘Tell me, I pray, the ailment of which, alas! thou art so certainly +perishing before my eyes.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You will not love me any more if I tell you,’ she said, in +doubt and fear. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not love you! I will love you the more. I swear it, by the genii +of Amente! by the eye of Osiris, I swear it! Speak!’ he cried, passionate +as a lover, authoritative as a king. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hear, then,’ she said. ‘There is an anchorite, the +oldest and holiest of his class, in a cave near Essouan. His name is Menopha. +He was my teacher and guardian. Send for him, O Oraetes, and he will tell you +that you seek to know; he will also help you find the cure for my +affliction.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Oraetes arose rejoicing. He went away in spirit a hundred years younger +than when he came.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +V. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Speak!’ said Oraetes to Menopha, in the palace at Memphis. +</p> + +<p> +“And Menopha replied, ‘Most mighty king, if you were young, I +should not answer, because I am yet pleased with life; as it is, I will say the +queen, like any other mortal, is paying the penalty of a crime.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘A crime!’ exclaimed Oraetes, angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Menopha bowed very low. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes; to herself.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I am not in mood for riddles,’ said the king. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What I say is not a riddle, as you shall hear. Ne-ne-hofra grew +up under my eyes, and confided every incident of her life to me; among others, +that she loved the son of her father’s gardener, Barbec by name.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Oraetes’s frown, strangely enough, began to dissipate. +</p> + +<p> +“‘With that love in her heart, O king, she came to you; of that +love she is dying.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where is the gardener’s son now?’ asked Oraetes. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In Essouan.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The king went out and gave two orders. To one oeris he said, ‘Go +to Essouan and bring hither a youth named Barbec. You will find him in the +garden of the queen’s father;’ to another, ‘Assemble workmen +and cattle and tools, and construct for me in Lake Chemmis an island, which, +though laden with a temple, a palace, and a garden, and all manner of trees +bearing fruit, and all manner of vines, shall nevertheless float about as the +winds may blow it. Make the island, and let it be fully furnished by the time +the moon begins to wane.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Then to the queen he said, +</p> + +<p> +“‘Be of cheer. I know all, and have sent for Barbec.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Ne-ne-hofra kissed his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“‘You shall have him to yourself, and he you to himself; nor shall +any disturb your loves for a year.’ +</p> + +<p> +“She kissed his feet; he raised her, and kissed her in return; and the +rose came back to her cheek, the scarlet to her lips, and the laughter to her +heart.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +VI. +</p> + +<p> +“For one year Ne-ne-hofra and Barbec the gardener floated as the winds +blew on the island of Chemmis, which became one of the wonders of the world; +never a home of love more beautiful; one year, seeing no one and existing for +no one but themselves. Then she returned in state to the palace in Memphis. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now whom lovest thou best?’ asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“She kissed his cheek and said, ‘Take me back, O good king, for I +am cured.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Oraetes laughed, none the worse, that moment, of his hundred and +fourteen years. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Then it is true, as Menopha said: ha, ha, ha! it is true, the +cure of love is love.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Even so,’ she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Suddenly his manner changed, and his look became terrible. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I did not find it so,’ he said. +</p> + +<p> +“She shrank affrighted. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Thou guilty!’ he continued. ‘Thy offense to Oraetes +the man he forgives; but thy offence to Oraetes the king remains to be +punished.’ +</p> + +<p> +“She cast herself at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Hush!’ he cried. ‘Thou art dead!’ +</p> + +<p> +“He clapped his hands, and a terrible procession came in—a +procession of parachistes, or embalmers, each with some implement or material +of his loathsome art. +</p> + +<p> +“The King pointed to Ne-ne-hofra. +</p> + +<p> +“‘She is dead. Do thy work well.’” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +VII. +</p> + +<p> +“Ne-ne-hofra the beautiful, after seventy-two days, was carried to the +crypt chosen for her the year before, and laid with her queenly predecessors; +yet there was no funeral procession in her honor across the sacred lake.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +At the conclusion of the story, Ben-Hur was sitting at the Egyptian’s +feet, and her hand upon the tiller was covered by his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Menopha was wrong,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Love lives by loving.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is no cure for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Oraetes found the cure.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Death.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a good listener, O son of Arrius.” +</p> + +<p> +And so with conversation and stories, they whiled the hours away. As they +stepped ashore, she said, +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow we go to the city.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will be at the games?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will send you my colors.” +</p> + +<p> +With that they separated. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap48"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +Ilderim returned to the dowar next day about the third hour. As he dismounted, +a man whom he recognized as of his own tribe came to him and said, “O +sheik, I was bidden give thee this package, with request that thou read it at +once. If there be answer, I was to wait thy pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim gave the package immediate attention. The seal was already broken. The +address ran, <i>To Valerius Gratus at Cæsarea</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Abaddon take him!” growled the sheik, at discovering a letter in +Latin. +</p> + +<p> +Had the missive been in Greek or Arabic, he could have read it; as it was, the +utmost he could make out was the signature in bold Roman +letters—M<small>ESSALA</small>—whereat his eyes twinkled. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the young Jew?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In the field with the horses,” a servant replied. +</p> + +<p> +The sheik replaced the papyrus in its envelopes, and, tucking the package under +his girdle, remounted the horse. That moment a stranger made his appearance, +coming, apparently, from the city. +</p> + +<p> +“I am looking for Sheik Ilderim, surnamed the Generous,” the +stranger said. +</p> + +<p> +His language and attire bespoke him a Roman. +</p> + +<p> +What he could not read, he yet could speak; so the old Arab answered, with +dignity, “I am Sheik Ilderim.” +</p> + +<p> +The man’s eyes fell; he raised them again, and said, with forced +composure, “I heard you had need of a driver for the games.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s lip under the white mustache curled contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Go thy way,” he said. “I have a driver.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned to ride away, but the man, lingering, spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“Sheik, I am a lover of horses, and they say you have the most beautiful +in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man was touched; he drew rein, as if on the point of yielding to the +flattery, but finally replied, “Not to-day, not to-day; some other time I +will show them to you. I am too busy just now.” +</p> + +<p> +He rode to the field, while the stranger betook himself to town again with a +smiling countenance. He had accomplished his mission. +</p> + +<p> +And every day thereafter, down to the great day of the games, a +man—sometimes two or three men—came to the sheik at the Orchard, +pretending to seek an engagement as driver. +</p> + +<p> +In such manner Messala kept watch over Ben-Hur. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap49"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +The sheik waited, well satisfied, until Ben-Hur drew his horses off the field +for the forenoon—well satisfied, for he had seen them, after being put +through all the other paces, run full speed in such manner that it did not seem +there were one the slowest and another the fastest—run in other words, as +if the four were one. +</p> + +<p> +“This afternoon, O sheik, I will give Sirius back to you.” Ben-Hur +patted the neck of the old horse as he spoke. “I will give him back, and +take to the chariot.” +</p> + +<p> +“So soon?” Ilderim asked. +</p> + +<p> +“With such as these, good sheik, one day suffices. They are not afraid; +they have a man’s intelligence, and they love the exercise. This +one,” he shook a rein over the back of the youngest of the +four—“you called him Aldebaran, I believe—is the swiftest; in +once round a stadium he would lead the others thrice his length.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim pulled his beard, and said, with twinkling eyes, “Aldebaran is +the swiftest; but what of the slowest?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is he.” Ben-Hur shook the rein over Antares. “This is +he: but he will win, for, look you, sheik, he will run his utmost all +day—all day; and, as the sun goes down, he will reach his +swiftest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right again,” said Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“I have but one fear, O sheik.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik became doubly serious. +</p> + +<p> +“In his greed of triumph, a Roman cannot keep honor pure. In the +games—all of them, mark you—their tricks are infinite; in chariot +racing their knavery extends to everything—from horse to driver, from +driver to master. Wherefore, good sheik, look well to all thou hast; from this +till the trial is over, let no stranger so much as see the horses. Would you be +perfectly safe, do more—keep watch over them with armed hand as well as +sleepless eye; then I will have no fear of the end.” +</p> + +<p> +At the door of the tent they dismounted. +</p> + +<p> +“What you say shall be attended to. By the splendor of God, no hand shall +come near them except it belong to one of the faithful. To-night I will set +watches. But, son of Arrius”—Ilderim drew forth the package, and +opened it slowly, while they walked to the divan and seated +themselves—“son of Arrius, see thou here, and help me with thy +Latin.” +</p> + +<p> +He passed the despatch to Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“There; read—and read aloud, rendering what thou findest into the +tongue of thy fathers. Latin is an abomination.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was in good spirits, and began the reading carelessly. +“‘MESSALA TO GRATUS!’” He paused. A premonition drove +the blood to his heart. Ilderim observed his agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Well; I am waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur prayed pardon, and recommenced the paper, which, it is sufficient to +say, was one of the duplicates of the letter despatched so carefully to Gratus +by Messala the morning after the revel in the palace. +</p> + +<p> +The paragraphs in the beginning were remarkable only as proof that the writer +had not outgrown his habit of mockery; when they were passed, and the reader +came to the parts intended to refresh the memory of Gratus, his voice trembled, +and twice he stopped to regain his self-control. By a strong effort he +continued. “‘I recall further,’” he read, +“‘that thou didst make disposition of the family of +Hur’”—there the reader again paused and drew a long +breath—“‘both of us at the time supposing the plan hit upon +to be the most effective possible for the purposes in view, which were silence +and delivery over to inevitable but natural death.’” +</p> + +<p> +Here Ben-Hur broke down utterly. The paper fell from his hands, and he covered +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“They are dead—dead. I alone am left.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik had been a silent, but not unsympathetic, witness of the young +man’s suffering; now he arose and said, “Son of Arrius, it is for +me to beg thy pardon. Read the paper by thyself. When thou art strong enough to +give the rest of it to me, send word, and I will return.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out of the tent, and nothing in all his life became him better. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur flung himself on the divan and gave way to his feelings. When somewhat +recovered, he recollected that a portion of the letter remained unread, and, +taking it up, he resumed the reading. “Thou wilt remember,” the +missive ran, “what thou didst with the mother and sister of the +malefactor; yet, if now I yield to a desire to learn if they be living or +dead”—Ben-Hur started, and read again, and then again, and at last +broke into exclamation. “He does not know they are dead; he does not know +it! Blessed be the name of the Lord! there is yet hope.” He finished the +sentence, and was strengthened by it, and went on bravely to the end of the +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“They are not dead,” he said, after reflection; “they are not +dead, or he would have heard of it.” +</p> + +<p> +A second reading, more careful than the first, confirmed him in the opinion. +Then he sent for the sheik. +</p> + +<p> +“In coming to your hospitable tent, O sheik,” he said, calmly, when +the Arab was seated and they were alone, “it was not in my mind to speak +of myself further than to assure you I had sufficient training to be intrusted +with your horses. I declined to tell you my history. But the chances which have +sent this paper to my hand and given it to me to be read are so strange that I +feel bidden to trust you with everything. And I am the more inclined to do so +by knowledge here conveyed that we are both of us threatened by the same enemy, +against whom it is needful that we make common cause. I will read the letter +and give you explanation; after which you will not wonder I was so moved. If +you thought me weak or childish, you will then excuse me.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik held his peace, listening closely, until Ben-Hur came to the +paragraph in which he was particularly mentioned: “‘I saw the Jew +yesterday in the Grove of Daphne;’” so ran the part, +“‘and if he be not there now, he is certainly in the neighborhood, +making it easy for me to keep him in eye. Indeed, wert thou to ask me where he +is now, I should say, with the most positive assurance, he is to be found at +the old Orchard of Palms.’” +</p> + +<p> +“A—h!” exclaimed Ilderim, in such a tone one might hardly say +he was more surprised than angry; at the same time, he clutched his beard. +</p> + +<p> +“‘At the old Orchard of Palms,’” Ben-Hur repeated, +“‘under the tent of the traitor Shiek Ilderim.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Traitor!—I?” the old man cried, in his shrillest tone, while +lip and beard curled with ire, and on his forehead and neck the veins swelled +and beat as they would burst. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet a moment, sheik,” said Ben-Hur, with a deprecatory gesture. +“Such is Messala’s opinion of you. Hear his threat.” And he +read on—“‘under the tent of the traitor Sheik Ilderim, who +cannot long escape our strong hand. Be not surprised if Maxentius, as his first +measure, places the Arab on ship for forwarding to Rome.’” +</p> + +<p> +“To Rome! Me—Ilderim—sheik of ten thousand horsemen with +spears—me to Rome!” +</p> + +<p> +He leaped rather than rose to his feet, his arms outstretched, his fingers +spread and curved like claws, his eyes glittering like a serpent’s. +</p> + +<p> +“O God!—nay, by all the gods except of Rome!—when shall this +insolence end? A freeman am I; free are my people. Must we die slaves? Or, +worse, must I live a dog, crawling to a master’s feet? Must I lick his +hand, lest he lash me? What is mine is not mine; I am not my own; for breath of +body I must be beholden to a Roman. Oh, if I were young again! Oh, could I +shake off twenty years—or ten—or five!” +</p> + +<p> +He ground his teeth and shook his hands overhead; then, under the impulse of +another idea, he walked away and back again to Ben-Hur swiftly, and caught his +shoulder with a strong grasp. +</p> + +<p> +“If I were as thou, son of Arrius—as young, as strong, as practised +in arms; if I had a motive hissing me to revenge—a motive, like thine, +great enough to make hate holy— Away with disguise on thy part and on +mine! Son of Hur, son of Hur, I say—” +</p> + +<p> +At that name all the currents of Ben-Hur’s blood stopped; surprised, +bewildered, he gazed into the Arab’s eyes, now close to his, and fiercely +bright. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur, I say, were I as thou, with half thy wrongs, bearing about +with me memories like thine, I would not, I could not, rest.” Never +pausing, his words following each other torrent-like, the old man swept on. +“To all my grievances, I would add those of the world, and devote myself +to vengeance. From land to land I would go firing all mankind. No war for +freedom but should find me engaged; no battle against Rome in which I would not +bear a part. I would turn Parthian, if I could not better. If men failed me, +still I would not give over the effort—ha, ha, ha! By the splendor of +God! I would herd with wolves, and make friends of lions and tigers, in hope of +marshalling them against the common enemy. I would use every weapon. So my +victims were Romans, I would rejoice in slaughter. Quarter I would not ask; +quarter I would not give. To the flames everything Roman; to the sword every +Roman born. Of nights I would pray the gods, the good and the bad alike, to +lend me their special terrors—tempests, drought, heat, cold, and all the +nameless poisons they let loose in air, all the thousand things of which men +die on sea and on land. Oh, I could not sleep. I—I—” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik stopped for want of breath, panting, wringing his hands. And, sooth +to say, of all the passionate burst Ben-Hur retained but a vague impression +wrought by fiery eyes, a piercing voice, and a rage too intense for coherent +expression. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in years, the desolate youth heard himself addressed by his +proper name. One man at least knew him, and acknowledged it without demand of +identity; and he an Arab fresh from the desert! +</p> + +<p> +How came the man by his knowledge? The letter? No. It told the cruelties from +which his family had suffered; it told the story of his own misfortunes, but it +did not say he was the very victim whose escape from doom was the theme of the +heartless narrative. That was the point of explanation he had notified the +sheik would follow the reading of the letter. He was pleased, and thrilled with +hope restored, yet kept an air of calmness. +</p> + +<p> +“Good sheik, tell me how you came by this letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“My people keep the roads between cities,” Ilderim answered, +bluntly. “They took it from a courier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are they known to be thy people?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. To the world they are robbers, whom it is mine to catch and +slay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again, sheik. You call me son of Hur—my father’s name. I did +not think myself known to a person on earth. How came you by the +knowledge?” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim hesitated; but, rallying, he answered, “I know you, yet I am not +free to tell you more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some one holds you in restraint?” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik closed his mouth, and walked away; but, observing Ben-Hur’s +disappointment, he came back, and said, “Let us say no more about the +matter now. I will go to town; when I return, I may talk to you fully. Give me +the letter.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim rolled the papyrus carefully, restored it to its envelopes, and became +once more all energy. +</p> + +<p> +“What sayest thou?” he asked, while waiting for his horse and +retinue. “I told what I would do, were I thou, and thou hast made no +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“I intended to answer, sheik, and I will.” Ben-Hur’s +countenance and voice changed with the feeling invoked. “All thou hast +said, I will do—all at least in the power of a man. I devoted myself to +vengeance long ago. Every hour of the five years passed, I have lived with no +other thought. I have taken no respite. I have had no pleasures of youth. The +blandishments of Rome were not for me. I wanted her to educate me for revenge. +I resorted to her most famous masters and professors—not those of +rhetoric or philosophy: alas! I had no time for them. The arts essential to a +fighting-man were my desire. I associated with gladiators, and with winners of +prizes in the Circus; and they were my teachers. The drill-masters in the great +camp accepted me as a scholar, and were proud of my attainments in their line. +O sheik, I am a soldier; but the things of which I dream require me to be a +captain. With that thought, I have taken part in the campaign against the +Parthians; when it is over, then, if the Lord spare my life and +strength—then”—he raised his clenched hands, and spoke +vehemently—“then I will be an enemy Roman-taught in all things; +then Rome shall account to me in Roman lives for her ills. You have my answer, +sheik.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim put an arm over his shoulder, and kissed him, saying, passionately, +“If thy God favor thee not, son of Hur, it is because he is dead. Take +thou this from me—sworn to, if so thy preference run: thou shalt have my +hands, and their fulness—men, horses, camels, and the desert for +preparation. I swear it! For the present, enough. Thou shalt see or hear from +me before night.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning abruptly off, the sheik was speedily on the road to the city. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap50"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +The intercepted letter was conclusive upon a number of points of great interest +to Ben-Hur. It had all the effect of a confession that the writer was a party +to the putting-away of the family with murderous intent; that he had sanctioned +the plan adopted for the purpose; that he had received a portion of the +proceeds of the confiscation, and was yet in enjoyment of his part; that he +dreaded the unexpected appearance of what he was pleased to call the chief +malefactor, and accepted it as a menace; that he contemplated such further +action as would secure him in the future, and was ready to do whatever his +accomplice in Cæsarea might advise. +</p> + +<p> +And, now that the letter had reached the hand of him really its subject, it was +notice of danger to come, as well as a confession of guilt. So when Ilderim +left the tent, Ben-Hur had much to think about, requiring immediate action. His +enemies were as adroit and powerful as any in the East. If they were afraid of +him, he had greater reason to be afraid of them. He strove earnestly to reflect +upon the situation, but could not; his feelings constantly overwhelmed him. +There was a certain qualified pleasure in the assurance that his mother and +sister were alive; and it mattered little that the foundation of the assurance +was a mere inference. That there was one person who could tell him where they +were seemed to his hope so long deferred as if discovery were now close at +hand. These were mere causes of feeling; underlying them, it must be confessed +he had a superstitious fancy that God was about to make ordination in his +behalf, in which event faith whispered him to stand still. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally, referring to the words of Ilderim, he wondered whence the Arab +derived his information about him; not from Malluch certainly; nor from +Simonides, whose interests, all adverse, would hold him dumb. Could Messala +have been the informant? No, no: disclosure might be dangerous in that quarter. +Conjecture was vain; at the same time, often as Ben-Hur was beaten back from +the solution, he was consoled with the thought that whoever the person with the +knowledge might be, he was a friend, and, being such, would reveal himself in +good time. A little more waiting—a little more patience. Possibly the +errand of the sheik was to see the worthy; possibly the letter might +precipitate a full disclosure. +</p> + +<p> +And patient he would have been if only he could have believed Tirzah and his +mother were waiting for him under circumstances permitting hope on their part +strong as his; if, in other words, conscience had not stung him with +accusations respecting them. +</p> + +<p> +To escape such accusations, he wandered far through the Orchard, pausing now +where the date-gatherers were busy, yet not too busy to offer him of their +fruit and talk with him; then, under the great trees, to watch the nesting +birds, or hear the bees swarming about the berries bursting with honeyed +sweetness, and filling all the green and golden spaces with the music of their +beating wings. +</p> + +<p> +By the lake, however, he lingered longest. He might not look upon the water and +its sparkling ripples, so like sensuous life, without thinking of the Egyptian +and her marvellous beauty, and of floating with her here and there through the +night, made brilliant by her songs and stories; he might not forget the charm +of her manner, the lightness of her laugh, the flattery of her attention, the +warmth of her little hand under his upon the tiller of the boat. From her it +was for his thought but a short way to Balthasar, and the strange things of +which he had been witness, unaccountable by any law of nature; and from him, +again, to the King of the Jews, whom the good man, with such pathos of +patience, was holding in holy promise, the distance was even nearer. And there +his mind stayed, finding in the mysteries of that personage a satisfaction +answering well for the rest he was seeking. Because, it may have been, nothing +is so easy as denial of an idea not agreeable to our wishes, he rejected the +definition given by Balthasar of the kingdom the king was coming to establish. +A kingdom of souls, if not intolerable to his Sadducean faith, seemed to him +but an abstraction drawn from the depths of a devotion too fond and dreamy. A +kingdom of Judea, on the other hand, was more than comprehensible: such had +been, and, if only for that reason, might be again. And it suited his pride to +think of a new kingdom broader of domain, richer in power, and of a more +unapproachable splendor than the old one; of a new king wiser and mightier than +Solomon—a new king under whom, especially, he could find both service and +revenge. In that mood he resumed to the dowar. +</p> + +<p> +The mid-day meal disposed of, still further to occupy himself, Ben-Hur had the +chariot rolled out into the sunlight for inspection. The word but poorly +conveys the careful study the vehicle underwent. No point or part of it escaped +him. With a pleasure which will be better understood hereafter, he saw the +pattern was Greek, in his judgment preferable to the Roman in many respects; it +was wider between the wheels, and lower and stronger, and the disadvantage of +greater weight would be more than compensated by the greater endurance of his +Arabs. Speaking generally, the carriage-makers of Rome built for the games +almost solely, sacrificing safety to beauty, and durability to grace; while the +chariots of Achilles and “the king of men,” designed for war and +all its extreme tests, still ruled the tastes of those who met and struggled +for the crowns Isthmian and Olympic. +</p> + +<p> +Next he brought the horses, and, hitching them to the chariot, drove to the +field of exercise, where, hour after hour, he practised them in movement under +the yoke. When he came away in the evening, it was with restored spirit, and a +fixed purpose to defer action in the matter of Messala until the race was won +or lost. He could not forego the pleasure of meeting his adversary under the +eyes of the East; that there might be other competitors seemed not to enter his +thought. His confidence in the result was absolute; no doubt of his own skill; +and as to the four, they were his full partners in the glorious game. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him look to it, let him look to it! Ha, Antares—Aldebaran! +Shall he not, O honest Rigel? and thou, Atair, king among coursers, shall he +not beware of us? Ha, ha! good hearts!” +</p> + +<p> +So in rests he passed from horse to horse, speaking, not as a master, but the +senior of as many brethren. +</p> + +<p> +After nightfall, Ben-Hur sat by the door of the tent waiting for Ilderim, not +yet returned from the city. He was not impatient, or vexed, or doubtful. The +sheik would be heard from, at least. Indeed, whether it was from satisfaction +with the performance of the four, or the refreshment there is in cold water +succeeding bodily exercise, or supper partaken with royal appetite, or the +reaction which, as a kindly provision of nature, always follows depression, the +young man was in good-humor verging upon elation. He felt himself in the hands +of Providence no longer his enemy. At last there was a sound of horse’s +feet coming rapidly, and Malluch rode up. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Arrius,” he said, cheerily, after salutation, “I +salute you for Sheik Ilderim, who requests you to mount and go to the city. He +is waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur asked no questions, but went in where the horses were feeding. +Aldebaran came to him, as if offering his service. He played with him lovingly, +but passed on, and chose another, not of the four—they were sacred to the +race. Very shortly the two were on the road, going swiftly and in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Some distance below the Seleucian Bridge, they crossed the river by a ferry, +and, riding far round on the right bank, and recrossing by another ferry, +entered the city from the west. The detour was long, but Ben-Hur accepted it as +a precaution for which there was good reason. +</p> + +<p> +Down to Simonides’ landing they rode, and in front of the great +warehouse, under the bridge, Malluch drew rein. +</p> + +<p> +“We are come,” he said. “Dismount.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur recognized the place. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the sheik?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Come with me. I will show you.” +</p> + +<p> +A watchman took the horses, and almost before he realized it Ben-Hur stood once +more at the door of the house up on the greater one, listening to the response +from within—“In God’s name, enter.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap51"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +Malluch stopped at the door; Ben-Hur entered alone. +</p> + +<p> +The room was the same in which he had formerly interviewed Simonides, and it +had been in nowise changed, except now, close by the arm-chair, a polished +brazen rod, set on a broad wooden pedestal, arose higher than a tall man, +holding lamps of silver on sliding arms, half-a-dozen or more in number, and +all burning. The light was clear, bringing into view the panelling on the +walls, the cornice with its row of gilded balls, and the dome dully tinted with +violet mica. +</p> + +<p> +Within a few steps, Ben-Hur stopped. +</p> + +<p> +Three persons were present, looking at him—Simonides, Ilderim, and +Esther. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced hurriedly from one to another, as if to find answer to the question +half formed in his mind, What business can these have with me? He became calm, +with every sense on the alert, for the question was succeeded by another, Are +they friends or enemies? +</p> + +<p> +At length, his eyes rested upon Esther. +</p> + +<p> +The men returned his look kindly; in her face there was something more than +kindness—something too <i>spirituel</i> for definition, which yet went to +his inner consciousness without definition. +</p> + +<p> +Shall it be said, good reader? Back of his gaze there was a comparison in which +the Egyptian arose and set herself over against the gentle Jewess; but it lived +an instant, and, as is the habit of such comparisons, passed away without a +conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur—” +</p> + +<p> +The guest turned to the speaker. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur,” said Simonides, repeating the address slowly, and +with distinct emphasis, as if to impress all its meaning upon him most +interested in understanding it, “take thou the peace of the Lord God of +our fathers—take it from me.” He paused, then added, “From me +and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker sat in his chair; there were the royal head, the bloodless face, +the masterful air, under the influence of which visitors forgot the broken +limbs and distorted body of the man. The full black eyes gazed out under the +white brows steadily, but not sternly. A moment thus, then he crossed his hands +upon his breast. +</p> + +<p> +The action, taken with the salutation, could not be misunderstood, and was not. +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides,” Ben-Hur answered, much moved, “the holy peace +you tender is accepted. As son to father, I return it to you. Only let there be +perfect understanding between us.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus delicately he sought to put aside the submission of the merchant, and, in +place of the relation of master and servant, substitute one higher and holier. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides let fall his hands, and, turning to Esther, said, “A seat for +the master, daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +She hastened, and brought a stool, and stood, with suffused face, looking from +one to the other—from Ben-Hur to Simonides, from Simonides to Ben-Hur; +and they waited, each declining the superiority direction would imply. When at +length the pause began to be embarrassing, Ben-Hur advanced, and gently took +the stool from her, and, going to the chair, placed it at the merchant’s +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I will sit here,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes met hers—an instant only; but both were better of the look. He +recognized her gratitude, she his generosity and forbearance. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides bowed his acknowledgment. +</p> + +<p> +“Esther, child, bring me the paper,” he said, with a breath of +relief. +</p> + +<p> +She went to a panel in the wall, opened it, took out a roll of papyri, and +brought and gave it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou saidst well, son of Hur,” Simonides began, while unrolling +the sheets. “Let us understand each other. In anticipation of the +demand—which I would have made hadst thou waived it—I have here a +statement covering everything necessary to the understanding required. I could +see but two points involved—the property first, and then our relation. +The statement is explicit as to both. Will it please thee to read it +now?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur received the papers, but glanced at Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Simonides, “the sheik shall not deter thee from +reading. The account—such thou wilt find it—is of a nature +requiring a witness. In the attesting place at the end thou wilt find, when +thou comest to it, the name—Ilderim, Sheik. He knows all. He is thy +friend. All he has been to me, that will he be to thee also.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides looked at the Arab, nodding pleasantly, and the latter gravely +returned the nod, saying, “Thou hast said.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur replied, “I know already the excellence of his friendship, and +have yet to prove myself worthy of it.” Immediately he continued, +“Later, O Simonides, I will read the papers carefully; for the present, +do thou take them, and if thou be not too weary, give me their +substance.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides took back the roll. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Esther, stand by me and receive the sheets, lest they fall into +confusion.” +</p> + +<p> +She took place by his chair, letting her right arm fall lightly across his +shoulder, so, when he spoke, the account seemed to have rendition from both of +them jointly. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said Simonides, drawing out the first leaf, “shows +the money I had of thy father’s, being the amount saved from the Romans; +there was no property saved, only money, and that the robbers would have +secured but for our Jewish custom of bills of exchange. The amount saved, being +sums I drew from Rome, Alexandria, Damascus, Carthage, Valentia, and elsewhere +within the circle of trade, was one hundred and twenty talents Jewish +money.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave the sheet to Esther, and took the next one. +</p> + +<p> +“With that amount—one hundred and twenty talents—I charged +myself. Hear now my credits. I use the word, as thou wilt see, with reference +rather to the proceeds gained from the use of the money.” +</p> + +<p> +From separate sheets he then read footings, which, fractions omitted, were as +follows: +</p> + +<table style="margin-left: 5em; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;"> + +<tr> +<td>By ships</td><td>60 talents</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” goods in store</td><td>110 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” cargoes in transit</td><td>75 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” camels, horses, etc.</td><td>20 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” warehouses</td><td>10 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” bills due</td><td>54 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>” money on hand and subject to draft</td><td>224 ”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td></td><td>——</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Total</td><td>553 ”</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<p> +“To these now, to the five hundred and fifty-three talents gained, add +the original capital I had from thy father, and thou hast S<small>IX</small> +H<small>UNDRED AND</small> S<small>EVENTY</small> T<small>HREE</small> +T<small>ALENTS</small>!—and all thine—making thee, O son of Hur, +the richest subject in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the papyri from Esther, and, reserving one, rolled them and offered +them to Ben-Hur. The pride perceptible in his manner was not offensive; it +might have been from a sense of duty well done; it might have been for Ben-Hur +without reference to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“And there is nothing,” he added, dropping his voice, but not his +eyes—“there is nothing now thou mayst not do.” +</p> + +<p> +The moment was one of absorbing interest to all present. Simonides crossed his +hands upon his breast again; Esther was anxious; Ilderim nervous. A man is +never so on trial as in the moment of excessive good-fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Taking the roll, Ben-Hur arose, struggling with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“All this is to me as a light from heaven, sent to drive away a night +which has been so long I feared it would never end, and so dark I had lost the +hope of seeing,” he said, with a husky voice. “I give first thanks +to the Lord, who has not abandoned me, and my next to thee, O Simonides. Thy +faithfulness outweighs the cruelty of others, and redeems our human nature. +‘There is nothing I cannot do:’ be it so. Shall any man in this my +hour of such mighty privilege be more generous than I? Serve me as a witness +now, Sheik Ilderim. Hear thou my words as I shall speak them—hear and +remember. And thou, Esther, good angel of this good man! hear thou also.” +</p> + +<p> +He stretched his hand with the roll to Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“The things these papers take into account—all of them: ships, +houses, goods, camels, horses, money; the least as well as the +greatest—give I back to thee, O Simonides, making them all thine, and +sealing them to thee and thine forever.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther smiled through her tears; Ilderim pulled his beard with rapid motion, +his eyes glistening like beads of jet. Simonides alone was calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Sealing them to thee and thine forever,” Ben-Hur continued, with +better control of himself, “with one exception, and upon one +condition.” +</p> + +<p> +The breath of the listeners waited upon his words. +</p> + +<p> +“The hundred and twenty talents which were my father’s thou shalt +return to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s countenance brightened. +</p> + +<p> +“And thou shalt join me in search of my mother and sister, holding all +thine subject to the expense of discovery, even as I will hold mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides was much affected. Stretching out his hand, he said, “I see thy +spirit, son of Hur, and I am grateful to the Lord that he hath sent thee to me +such as thou art. If I served well thy father in life, and his memory +afterwards, be not afraid of default to thee; yet must I say the exception +cannot stand.” +</p> + +<p> +Exhibiting, then, the reserved sheet, he continued, +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast not all the account. Take this and read—read +aloud.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took the supplement, and read it. +</p> + +<p> +“Statement of the servants of Hur, rendered by Simonides, steward of the +estate. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +1. Amrah, Egyptian, keeping the palace in Jerusalem.<br> +2. Simonides, the steward, in Antioch.<br> +3. Esther, daughter of Simonides.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, in all his thoughts of Simonides, not once had it entered Ben-Hur’s +mind that, by the law, a daughter followed the parent’s condition. In all +his visions of her, the sweet-faced Esther had figured as the rival of the +Egyptian, and an object of possible love. He shrank from the revelation so +suddenly brought him, and looked at her blushing; and, blushing, she dropped +her eyes before him. Then he said, while the papyrus rolled itself together, +</p> + +<p> +“A man with six hundred talents is indeed rich, and may do what he +pleases; but, rarer than the money, more priceless than the property, is the +mind which amassed the wealth, and the heart it could not corrupt when amassed. +O Simonides—and thou, fair Esther—fear not. Sheik Ilderim here +shall be witness that in the same moment ye were declared my servants, that +moment I declared ye free; and what I declare, that will I put in writing. Is +it not enough? Can I do more?” +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur,” said Simonides, “verily thou dost make +servitude lightsome. I was wrong; there are some things thou canst not do; thou +canst not make us free in law. I am thy servant forever, because I went to the +door with thy father one day, and in my ear the awl-marks yet abide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did my father that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Judge him not,” cried Simonides, quickly. “He accepted me a +servant of that class because I prayed him to do so. I never repented the step. +It was the price I paid for Rachel, the mother of my child here; for Rachel, +who would not be my wife unless I became what she was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was she a servant forever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even so.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur walked the floor in pain of impotent wish. +</p> + +<p> +“I was rich before,” he said, stopping suddenly. “I was rich +with the gifts of the generous Arrius; now comes this greater fortune, and the +mind which achieved it. Is there not a purpose of God in it all? Counsel me, O +Simonides! Help me to see the right and do it. Help me to be worthy my name, +and what thou art in law to me, that will I be to thee in fact and deed. I will +be thy servant forever.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides’ face actually glowed. +</p> + +<p> +“O son of my dead master! I will do better than help; I will serve thee +with all my might of mind and heart. Body, I have not; it perished in thy +cause; but with mind and heart I will serve thee. I swear it, by the altar of +our God, and the gifts upon the altar! Only make me formally what I have +assumed to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“Name it,” said Ben-Hur, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“As steward the care of the property will be mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Count thyself steward now; or wilt thou have it in writing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thy word simply is enough; it was so with the father, and I will not +more from the son. And now, if the understanding be +perfect”—Simonides paused. +</p> + +<p> +“It is with me,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“And thou, daughter of Rachel, speak!” said Simonides, lifting her +arm from his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Esther, left thus alone, stood a moment abashed, her color coming and going; +then she went to Ben-Hur, and said, with a womanliness singularly sweet, +“I am not better than my mother was; and, as she is gone, I pray you, O +my master, let me care for my father.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took her hand, and led her back to the chair, saying, “Thou art a +good child. Have thy will.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides replaced her arm upon his neck, and there was silence for a time in +the room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap52"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +Simonides looked up, none the less a master. +</p> + +<p> +“Esther,” he said, quietly, “the night is going fast; and, +lest we become too weary for that which is before us, let the refreshments be +brought.” +</p> + +<p> +She rang a bell. A servant answered with wine and bread, which she bore round. +</p> + +<p> +“The understanding, good my master,” continued Simonides, when all +were served, “is not perfect in my sight. Henceforth our lives will run +on together like rivers which have met and joined their waters. I think their +flowing will be better if every cloud is blown from the sky above them. You +left my door the other day with what seemed a denial of the claims which I have +just allowed in the broadest terms; but it was not so, indeed it was not. +Esther is witness that I recognized you; and that I did not abandon you, let +Malluch say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Malluch!” exclaimed Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“One bound to a chair, like me, must have many hands far-reaching, if he +would move the world from which he is so cruelly barred. I have many such, and +Malluch is one of the best of them. And, sometimes”—he cast a +grateful glance at the sheik—“sometimes I borrow from others good +of heart, like Ilderim the Generous—good and brave. Let him say if I +either denied or forgot you.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked at the Arab. +</p> + +<p> +“This is he, good Ilderim, this is he who told you of me?” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim’s eyes twinkled as he nodded his answer. +</p> + +<p> +“How, O my master,” said Simonides, “may we without trial +tell what a man is? I knew you; I saw your father in you; but the kind of man +you were I did not know. There are people to whom fortune is a curse in +disguise. Were you of them? I sent Malluch to find out for me, and in the +service he was my eyes and ears. Do not blame him. He brought me report of you +which was all good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not,” said Ben-Hur, heartily. “There was wisdom in your +goodness.” +</p> + +<p> +“The words are very pleasant to me,” said the merchant, with +feeling, “very pleasant. My fear of misunderstanding is laid. Let the +rivers run on now as God may give them direction.” +</p> + +<p> +After an interval he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I am compelled now by truth. The weaver sits weaving, and, as the +shuttle flies, the cloth increases, and the figures grow, and he dreams dreams +meanwhile; so to my hands the fortune grew, and I wondered at the increase, and +asked myself about it many times. I could see a care not my own went with the +enterprises I set going. The simooms which smote others on the desert jumped +over the things which were mine. The storms which heaped the seashore with +wrecks did but blow my ships the sooner into port. Strangest of all, I, so +dependent upon others, fixed to a place like a dead thing, had never a loss by +an agent—never. The elements stooped to serve me, and all my servants, in +fact, were faithful.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very strange,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“So I said, and kept saying. Finally, O my master, finally I came to be +of your opinion—God was in it—and, like you, I asked, What can his +purpose be? Intelligence is never wasted; intelligence like God’s never +stirs except with design. I have held the question in heart, lo! these many +years, watching for an answer. I felt sure, if God were in it, some day, in his +own good time, in his own way, he would show me his purpose, making it clear as +a whited house upon a hill. And I believe he has done so.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur listened with every faculty intent. +</p> + +<p> +“Many years ago, with my people—thy mother was with me, Esther, +beautiful as morning over old Olivet—I sat by the wayside out north of +Jerusalem, near the Tombs of the Kings, when three men passed by riding great +white camels, such as had never been seen in the Holy City. The men were +strangers, and from far countries. The first one stopped and asked me a +question. ‘Where is he that is born King of the Jews?’ As if to +allay my wonder, he went on to say, ‘We have seen his star in the east, +and have come to worship him.’ I could not understand, but followed them +to the Damascus Gate; and of every person they met on the way—of the +guard at the Gate, even—they asked the question. All who heard it were +amazed like me. In time I forgot the circumstance, though there was much talk +of it as a presage of the Messiah. Alas, alas! What children we are, even the +wisest! When God walks the earth, his steps are often centuries apart. You have +seen Balthasar?” +</p> + +<p> +“And heard him tell his story,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“A miracle!—a very miracle!” cried Simonides. “As he +told it to me, good my master, I seemed to hear the answer I had so long +waited; God’s purpose burst upon me. Poor will the King be when he +comes—poor and friendless; without following, without armies, without +cities or castles; a kingdom to be set up, and Rome reduced and blotted out. +See, see, O my master! thou flushed with strength, thou trained to arms, thou +burdened with riches; behold the opportunity the Lord hath sent thee! Shall not +his purpose be thine? Could a man be born to a more perfect glory?” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides put his whole force in the appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“But the kingdom, the kingdom!” Ben-Hur answered, eagerly. +“Balthasar says it is to be of souls.” +</p> + +<p> +The pride of the Jew was strong in Simonides, and therefore the slightly +contemptuous curl of the lip with which he began his reply: +</p> + +<p> +“Balthasar has been a witness of wonderful things—of miracles, O my +master; and when he speaks of them, I bow with belief, for they are of sight +and sound personal to him. But he is a son of Mizraim, and not even a +proselyte. Hardly may he be supposed to have special knowledge by virtue of +which we must bow to him in a matter of God’s dealing with our Israel. +The prophets had their light from Heaven directly, even as he had +his—many to one, and Jehovah the same forever. I must believe the +prophets.—Bring me the Torah, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +He proceeded without waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +“May the testimony of a whole people be slighted, my master? Though you +travel from Tyre, which is by the sea in the north, to the capital of Edom, +which is in the desert south, you will not find a lisper of the Shema, an +alms-giver in the Temple, or any one who has ever eaten of the lamb of the +Passover, to tell you the kingdom the King is coming to build for us, the +children of the covenant, is other than of this world, like our father +David’s. Now where got they the faith, ask you! We will see +presently.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther here returned, bringing a number of rolls carefully enveloped in +dark-brown linen lettered quaintly in gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep them, daughter, to give to me as I call for them,” the father +said, in the tender voice he always used in speaking to her, and continued his +argument: +</p> + +<p> +“It were long, good my master—too long, indeed—for me to +repeat to you the names of the holy men who, in the providence of God, +succeeded the prophets, only a little less favored than they—the seers +who have written and the preachers who have taught since the Captivity; the +very wise who borrowed their lights from the lamp of Malachi, the last of his +line, and whose great names Hillel and Shammai never tired of repeating in the +colleges. Will you ask them of the kingdom? Thus, the Lord of the sheep in the +Book of Enoch—who is he? Who but the King of whom we are speaking? A +throne is set up for him; he smites the earth, and the other kings are shaken +from their thrones, and the scourges of Israel flung into a cavern of fire +flaming with pillars of fire. So also the singer of the Psalms of +Solomon—‘Behold, O Lord, and raise up to Israel their king, the son +of David, at the time thou knowest, O God, to rule Israel, thy children.... And +he will bring the peoples of the heathen under his yoke to serve him.... And he +shall be a righteous king taught of God, ... for he shall rule all the earth by +the word of his mouth forever.’ And last, though not least, hear Ezra, +the second Moses, in his visions of the night, and ask him who is the lion with +human voice that says to the eagle—which is Rome—‘Thou hast +loved liars, and overthrown the cities of the industrious, and razed their +walls, though they did thee no harm. Therefore, begone, that the earth may be +refreshed, and recover itself, and hope in the justice and piety of him who +made her.’ Whereat the eagle was seen no more. Surely, O my master, the +testimony of these should be enough! But the way to the fountain’s head +is open. Let us go up to it at once.—Some wine, Esther, and then the +Torah.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou believe the prophets, master?” he asked, after drinking. +“I know thou dost, for of such was the faith of all thy +kindred.—Give me, Esther, the book which hath in it the visions of +Isaiah.” +</p> + +<p> +He took one of the rolls which she had unwrapped for him, and read, +“‘The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they +that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light +shined.... For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the +government shall be upon his shoulder.... Of the increase of his government and +peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to +order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth +even forever.’—Believest thou the prophets, O my master?—Now, +Esther, the word of the Lord that came to Micah.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him the roll he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But thou,’” he began reading—“‘but +thou, Bethlehem Ephrath, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, +yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in +Israel.’—This was he, the very child Balthasar saw and worshipped +in the cave. Believest thou the prophets, O my master?—Give me, Esther, +the words of Jeremiah.” +</p> + +<p> +Receiving that roll, he read as before, “‘Behold, the days come, +saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous branch, and a king +shall reign and prosper, and shall execute judgment and justice in the earth. +In his days Judah shall be saved, and Israel shall dwell safely.’ As a +king he shall reign—as a king, O my master! Believest thou the +prophets?—Now, daughter, the roll of the sayings of that son of Judah in +whom there was no blemish.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him the Book of Daniel. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear, my master,” he said: “‘I saw in the night +visions, and behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven.... +And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, +nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting +dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be +destroyed.’—Believest thou the prophets, O my master?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is enough. I believe,” cried Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“What then?” asked Simonides. “If the King come poor, will +not my master, of his abundance, give him help?” +</p> + +<p> +“Help him? To the last shekel and the last breath. But why speak of his +coming poor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me, Esther, the word of the Lord as it came to Zechariah,” +said Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him one of the rolls. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear how the King will enter Jerusalem.” Then he read, +“‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion.... Behold, thy King cometh +unto thee with justice and salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a +colt, the foal of an ass.’” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked away. +</p> + +<p> +“What see you, O my master?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rome!” he answered, gloomily—“Rome, and her legions. I +have dwelt with them in their camps. I know them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Simonides. “Thou shalt be a master of legions for +the King, with millions to choose from.” +</p> + +<p> +“Millions!” cried Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides sat a moment thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“The question of power should not trouble you,” he next said. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked at him inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“You were seeing the lowly King in the act of coming to his own,” +Simonides answered—“seeing him on the right hand, as it were, and +on the left the brassy legions of Cæsar, and you were asking, What can he +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was my very thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“O my master!” Simonides continued. “You do not know how +strong our Israel is. You think of him as a sorrowful old man weeping by the +rivers of Babylon. But go up to Jerusalem next Passover, and stand on the +Xystus or in the Street of Barter, and see him as he is. The promise of the +Lord to father Jacob coming out of Padan-Aram was a law under which our people +have not ceased multiplying—not even in captivity; they grew under foot +of the Egyptian; the clench of the Roman has been but wholesome nurture to +them; now they are indeed ‘a nation and a company of nations.’ Nor +that only, my master; in fact, to measure the strength of Israel—which +is, in fact, measuring what the King can do—you shall not bide solely by +the rule of natural increase, but add thereto the other—I mean the spread +of the faith, which will carry you to the far and near of the whole known +earth. Further, the habit is, I know, to think and speak of Jerusalem as +Israel, which may be likened to our finding an embroidered shred, and holding +it up as a magisterial robe of Cæsar’s. Jerusalem is but a stone of the +Temple, or the heart in the body. Turn from beholding the legions, strong +though they be, and count the hosts of the faithful waiting the old alarm, +‘To your tents, O Israel!’—count the many in Persia, children +of those who chose not to return with the returning; count the brethren who +swarm the marts of Egypt and Farther Africa; count the Hebrew colonists eking +profit in the West—in Lodinum and the trade-courts of Spain; count the +pure of blood and the proselytes in Greece and in the isles of the sea, and +over in Pontus, and here in Antioch, and, for that matter, those of that city +lying accursed in the shadow of the unclean walls of Rome herself; count the +worshippers of the Lord dwelling in tents along the deserts next us, as well as +in the deserts beyond the Nile: and in the regions across the Caspian, and up +in the old lands of Gog and Magog even, separate those who annually send gifts +to the Holy Temple in acknowledgment of God—separate them, that they may +be counted also. And when you have done counting, lo! my master, a census of +the sword hands that await you; lo! a kingdom ready fashioned for him who is to +do ‘judgment and justice in the whole earth’—in Rome not less +than in Zion. Have then the answer, What Israel can do, that can the +King.” +</p> + +<p> +The picture was fervently given. +</p> + +<p> +Upon Ilderim it operated like the blowing of a trumpet. “Oh that I had +back my youth!” he cried, starting to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur sat still. The speech, he saw, was an invitation to devote his life and +fortune to the mysterious Being who was palpably as much the centre of a great +hope with Simonides as with the devout Egyptian. The idea, as we have seen, was +not a new one, but had come to him repeatedly; once while listening to Malluch +in the Grove of Daphne; afterwards more distinctly while Balthasar was giving +his conception of what the kingdom was to be; still later, in the walk through +the old Orchard, it had risen almost, if not quite, into a resolve. At such +times it had come and gone only an idea, attended with feelings more or less +acute. Not so now. A master had it in charge, a master was working it up; +already he had exalted it into a <i>cause</i> brilliant with possibilities and +infinitely holy. The effect was as if a door theretofore unseen had suddenly +opened flooding Ben-Hur with light, and admitting him to a service which had +been his one perfect dream—a service reaching far into the future, and +rich with the rewards of duty done, and prizes to sweeten and soothe his +ambition. One touch more was needed. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us concede all you say, O Simonides,” said +Ben-Hur—“that the King will come, and his kingdom be as +Solomon’s; say also I am ready to give myself and all I have to him and +his cause; yet more, say that I should do as was God’s purpose in the +ordering of my life and in your quick amassment of astonishing fortune; then +what? Shall we proceed like blind men building? Shall we wait till the King +comes? Or until he sends for me? You have age and experience on your side. +Answer.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides answered at once. +</p> + +<p> +“We have no choice; none. This letter”—he produced +Messala’s despatch as he spoke—“this letter is the signal for +action. The alliance proposed between Messala and Gratus we are not strong +enough to resist; we have not the influence at Rome nor the force here. They +will kill you if we wait. How merciful they are, look at me and judge.” +</p> + +<p> +He shuddered at the terrible recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“O good my master,” he continued, recovering himself; “how +strong are you—in purpose, I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur did not understand him. +</p> + +<p> +“I remember how pleasant the world was to me in my youth,” +Simonides proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” said Ben-Hur, “you were capable of a great +sacrifice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; for love.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has not life other motives as strong?” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“There is ambition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ambition is forbidden a son of Israel.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then, of revenge?” +</p> + +<p> +The spark dropped upon the inflammable passion; the man’s eyes gleamed; +his hands shook; he answered, quickly, “Revenge is a Jew’s of +right; it is the law.” +</p> + +<p> +“A camel, even a dog, will remember a wrong,” cried Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +Directly Simonides picked up the broken thread of his thought. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a work, a work for the King, which should be done in advance of +his coming. We may not doubt that Israel is to be his right hand; but, alas! it +is a hand of peace, without cunning in war. Of the millions, there is not one +trained band, not a captain. The mercenaries of the Herods I do not count, for +they are kept to crush us. The condition is as the Roman would have it; his +policy has fruited well for his tyranny; but the time of change is at hand, +when the shepherd shall put on armor, and take to spear and sword, and the +feeding flocks be turned to fighting lions. Some one, my son, must have place +next the King at his right hand. Who shall it be if not he who does this work +well?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s face flushed at the prospect, though he said, “I see; but +speak plainly. A deed to be done is one thing; how to do it is another.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides sipped the wine Esther brought him, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +“The sheik, and thou, my master, shall be principals, each with a part. I +will remain here, carrying on as now, and watchful that the spring go not dry. +Thou shalt betake thee to Jerusalem, and thence to the wilderness, and begin +numbering the fighting-men of Israel, and telling them into tens and hundreds, +and choosing captains and training them, and in secret places hoarding arms, +for which I shall keep thee supplied. Commencing over in Perea, thou shalt go +then to Galilee, whence it is but a step to Jerusalem. In Perea, the desert +will be at thy back, and Ilderim in reach of thy hand. He will keep the roads, +so that nothing shall pass without thy knowledge. He will help thee in many +ways. Until the ripening time no one shall know what is here contracted. Mine +is but a servant’s part. I have spoken to Ilderim. What sayest +thou?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked at the sheik. +</p> + +<p> +“It is as he says, son of Hur,” the Arab responded. “I have +given my word, and he is content with it; but thou shalt have my oath, binding +me, and the ready hands of my tribe, and whatever serviceable thing I +have.” +</p> + +<p> +The three—Simonides, Ilderim, Esther—gazed at Ben-Hur fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Every man,” he answered, at first sadly, “has a cup of +pleasure poured for him, and soon or late it comes to his hand, and he tastes +and drinks—every man but me. I see, Simonides, and thou, O generous +sheik!—I see whither the proposal tends. If I accept, and enter upon the +course, farewell peace, and the hopes which cluster around it. The doors I +might enter and the gates of quiet life will shut behind me, never to open +again, for Rome keeps them all; and her outlawry will follow me, and her +hunters; and in the tombs near cities and the dismal caverns of remotest hills, +I must eat my crust and take my rest.” +</p> + +<p> +The speech was broken by a sob. All turned to Esther, who hid her face upon her +father’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not think of you, Esther,” said Simonides, gently, for he +was himself deeply moved. +</p> + +<p> +“It is well enough, Simonides,” said Ben-Hur. “A man bears a +hard doom better, knowing there is pity for him. Let me go on.” +</p> + +<p> +They gave him ear again. +</p> + +<p> +“I was about to say,” he continued, “I have no choice, but +take the part you assign me; and as remaining here is to meet an ignoble death, +I will to the work at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we have writings?” asked Simonides, moved by his habit of +business. +</p> + +<p> +“I rest upon your word,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“And I,” Ilderim answered. +</p> + +<p> +Thus simply was effected the treaty which was to alter Ben-Hur’s life. +And almost immediately the latter added, +</p> + +<p> +“It is done, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“May the God of Abraham help us!” Simonides exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“One word now, my friends,” Ben-Hur said, more cheerfully. +“By your leave, I will be my own until after the games. It is not +probable Messala will set peril on foot for me until he has given the +procurator time to answer him; and that cannot be in less than seven days from +the despatch of his letter. The meeting him in the Circus is a pleasure I would +buy at whatever risk.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim, well pleased, assented readily, and Simonides, intent on business, +added, “It is well; for look you, my master, the delay will give me time +to do you a good part. I understood you to speak of an inheritance derived from +Arrius. Is it in property?” +</p> + +<p> +“A villa near Misenum, and houses in Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suggest, then, the sale of the property, and safe deposit of the +proceeds. Give me an account of it, and I will have authorities drawn, and +despatch an agent on the mission forthwith. We will forestall the imperial +robbers at least this once.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have the account to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if there be nothing more, the work of the night is done,” +said Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim combed his beard complacently, saying, “And well done.” +</p> + +<p> +“The bread and wine again, Esther. Sheik Ilderim will make us happy by +staying with us till to-morrow, or at his pleasure; and thou, my +master—” +</p> + +<p> +“Let the horses be brought,” said Ben-Hur. “I will return to +the Orchard. The enemy will not discover me if I go now, and”—he +glanced at Ilderim—“the four will be glad to see me.” +</p> + +<p> +As the day dawned, he and Malluch dismounted at the door of the tent. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap53"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +Next night, about the fourth hour, Ben-Hur stood on the terrace of the great +warehouse with Esther. Below them, on the landing, there was much running +about, and shifting of packages and boxes, and shouting of men, whose figures, +stooping, heaving, hauling, looked, in the light of the crackling torches +kindled in their aid, like the laboring genii of the fantastic Eastern tales. A +galley was being laden for instant departure. Simonides had not yet come from +his office, in which, at the last moment, he would deliver to the captain of +the vessel instructions to proceed without stop to Ostia, the seaport of Rome, +and, after landing a passenger there, continue more leisurely to Valentia, on +the coast of Spain. +</p> + +<p> +The passenger is the agent going to dispose of the estate derived from Arrius +the duumvir. When the lines of the vessel are cast off, and she is put about, +and her voyage begun, Ben-Hur will be committed irrevocably to the work +undertaken the night before. If he is disposed to repent the agreement with +Ilderim, a little time is allowed him to give notice and break it off. He is +master, and has only to say the word. +</p> + +<p> +Such may have been the thought at the moment in his mind. He was standing with +folded arms, looking upon the scene in the manner of a man debating with +himself. Young, handsome, rich, but recently from the patrician circles of +Roman society, it is easy to think of the world besetting him with appeals not +to give more to onerous duty or ambition attended with outlawry and danger. We +can even imagine the arguments with which he was pressed; the hopelessness of +contention with Cæsar; the uncertainty veiling everything connected with the +King and his coming; the ease, honors, state, purchasable like goods in market; +and, strongest of all, the sense newly acquired of home, with friends to make +it delightful. Only those who have been wanderers long desolate can know the +power there was in the latter appeal. +</p> + +<p> +Let us add now, the world—always cunning enough of itself; always +whispering to the weak, Stay, take thine ease; always presenting the sunny side +of life—the world was in this instance helped by Ben-Hur’s +companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you ever at Rome?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Esther replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid of Rome,” she answered, with a perceptible tremor of +the voice. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her then—or rather down upon her, for at his side she +appeared little more than a child. In the dim light he could not see her face +distinctly; even the form was shadowy. But again he was reminded of Tirzah, and +a sudden tenderness fell upon him—just so the lost sister stood with him +on the house-top the calamitous morning of the accident to Gratus. Poor Tirzah! +Where was she now? Esther had the benefit of the feeling evoked. If not his +sister, he could never look upon her as his servant; and that she was his +servant in fact would make him always the more considerate and gentle towards +her. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot think of Rome,” she continued, recovering her voice, and +speaking in her quiet womanly way—“I cannot think of Rome as a city +of palaces and temples, and crowded with people; she is to me a monster which +has possession of one of the beautiful lands, and lies there luring men to ruin +and death—a monster which it is not possible to resist—a ravenous +beast gorging with blood. Why—” +</p> + +<p> +She faltered, looked down, stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said Ben-Hur, reassuringly. +</p> + +<p> +She drew closer to him, looked up again, and said, “Why must you make her +your enemy? Why not rather make peace with her, and be at rest? You have had +many ills, and borne them; you have survived the snares laid for you by foes. +Sorrow has consumed your youth; is it well to give it the remainder of your +days?” +</p> + +<p> +The girlish face under his eyes seemed to come nearer and get whiter as the +pleading went on; he stooped towards it, and asked, softly, “What would +you have me do, Esther?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated a moment, then asked, in return, “Is the property near Rome +a residence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is beautiful—a palace in the midst of gardens and shell-strewn +walks; fountains without and within; statuary in the shady nooks; hills around +covered with vines, and so high that Neapolis and Vesuvius are in sight, and +the sea an expanse of purpling blue dotted with restless sails. Cæsar has a +country-seat near-by, but in Rome they say the old Arrian villa is the +prettiest.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the life there, is it quiet?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was never a summer day, never a moonlit night, more quiet, save +when visitors come. Now that the old owner is gone, and I am here, there is +nothing to break its silence—nothing, unless it be the whispering of +servants, or the whistling of happy birds, or the noise of fountains at play; +it is changeless, except as day by day old flowers fade and fall, and new ones +bud and bloom, and the sunlight gives place to the shadow of a passing cloud. +The life, Esther, was all too quiet for me. It made me restless by keeping +always present a feeling that I, who have so much to do, was dropping into idle +habits, and tying myself with silken chains, and after a while—and not a +long while either—would end with nothing done.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked off over the river. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you ask?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good my master—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Esther—not that. Call me friend—brother, if you +will; I am not your master, and will not be. Call me brother.” +</p> + +<p> +He could not see the flush of pleasure which reddened her face, and the glow of +the eyes that went out lost in the void above the river. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot understand,” she said, “the nature which prefers +the life you are going to—a life of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Of violence, and it may be of blood,” he said, completing the +sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she added, “the nature which could prefer that life to +such as might be in the beautiful villa.” +</p> + +<p> +“Esther, you mistake. There is no preference. Alas! the Roman is not so +kind. I am going of necessity. To stay here is to die; and if I go there, the +end will be the same—a poisoned cup, a bravo’s blow, or a +judge’s sentence obtained by perjury. Messala and the procurator Gratus +are rich with plunder of my father’s estate, and it is more important to +them to keep their gains now than was their getting in the first instance. A +peaceable settlement is out of reach, because of the confession it would imply. +And then—then— Ah, Esther, if I could buy them, I do not know that +I would. I do not believe peace possible to me; no, not even in the sleepy +shade and sweet air of the marble porches of the old villa—no matter who +might be there to help me bear the burden of the days, nor by what patience of +love she made the effort. Peace is not possible to me while my people are lost, +for I must be watchful to find them. If I find them, and they have suffered +wrong, shall not the guilty suffer for it? If they are dead by violence, shall +the murderers escape? Oh, I could not sleep for dreams! Nor could the holiest +love, by any stratagem, lull me to a rest which conscience would not +strangle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so bad then?” she asked, her voice tremulous with feeling. +“Can nothing, nothing, be done?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you care so much for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered, simply. +</p> + +<p> +The hand was warm, and in the palm of his it was lost. He felt it tremble. Then +the Egyptian came, so the opposite of this little one; so tall, so audacious, +with a flattery so cunning, a wit so ready, a beauty so wonderful, a manner so +bewitching. He carried the hand to his lips, and gave it back. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall be another Tirzah to me, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Tirzah?” +</p> + +<p> +“The little sister the Roman stole from me, and whom I must find before I +can rest or be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then a gleam of light flashed athwart the terrace and fell upon the two; +and, looking round, they saw a servant roll Simonides in his chair out of the +door. They went to the merchant, and in the after-talk he was principal. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the lines of the galley were cast off, and she swung round, and, +midst the flashing of torches and the shouting of joyous sailors, hurried off +to the sea—leaving Ben-Hur committed to the cause of the KING WHO WAS TO +COME. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap54"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +The day before the games, in the afternoon, all Ilderim’s racing property +was taken to the city, and put in quarters adjoining the Circus. Along with it +the good man carried a great deal of property not of that class; so with +servants, retainers mounted and armed, horses in leading, cattle driven, camels +laden with baggage, his outgoing from the Orchard was not unlike a tribal +migration. The people along the road failed not to laugh at his motley +procession; on the other side, it was observed that, with all his irascibility, +he was not in the least offended by their rudeness. If he was under +surveillance, as he had reason to believe, the informer would describe the +semi-barbarous show with which he came up to the races. The Romans would laugh; +the city would be amused; but what cared he? Next morning the pageant would be +far on the road to the desert, and going with it would be every movable thing +of value belonging to the Orchard—everything save such as were essential +to the success of his four. He was, in fact, started home; his tents were all +folded; the dowar was no more; in twelve hours all would be out of reach, +pursue who might. A man is never safer than when he is under the laugh; and the +shrewd old Arab knew it. +</p> + +<p> +Neither he nor Ben-Hur overestimated the influence of Messala; it was their +opinion, however, that he would not begin active measures against them until +after the meeting in the Circus; if defeated there, especially if defeated by +Ben-Hur, they might instantly look for the worst he could do; he might not even +wait for advices from Gratus. With this view, they shaped their course, and +were prepared to betake themselves out of harm’s way. They rode together +now in good spirits, calmly confident of success on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +On the way, they came upon Malluch in waiting for them. The faithful fellow +gave no sign by which it was possible to infer any knowledge on his part of the +relationship so recently admitted between Ben-Hur and Simonides, or of the +treaty between them and Ilderim. He exchanged salutations as usual, and +produced a paper, saying to the sheik, “I have here the notice of the +editor of the games, just issued, in which you will find your horses published +for the race. You will find in it also the order of exercises. Without waiting, +good sheik, I congratulate you upon your victory.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave the paper over, and, leaving the worthy to master it, turned to +Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“To you also, son of Arrius, my congratulations. There is nothing now to +prevent your meeting Messala. Every condition preliminary to the race is +complied with. I have the assurance from the editor himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Malluch,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +Malluch proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“Your color is white, and Messala’s mixed scarlet and gold. The +good effects of the choice are visible already. Boys are now hawking white +ribbons along the streets; tomorrow every Arab and Jew in the city will wear +them. In the Circus you will see the white fairly divide the galleries with the +red.” +</p> + +<p> +“The galleries—but not the tribunal over the Porta Pompae.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; the scarlet and gold will rule there. But if we +win”—Malluch chuckled with the pleasure of the +thought—“if we win, how the dignitaries will tremble! They will +bet, of course, according to their scorn of everything not Roman—two, +three, five to one on Messala, because he is Roman.” Dropping his voice +yet lower, he added, “It ill becomes a Jew of good standing in the Temple +to put his money at such a hazard; yet, in confidence, I will have a friend +next behind the consul’s seat to accept offers of three to one, or five, +or ten—the madness may go to such height. I have put to his order six +thousand shekels for the purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Malluch,” said Ben-Hur, “a Roman will wager only in his +Roman coin. Suppose you find your friend to-night, and place to his order +sestertii in such amount as you choose. And look you, Malluch—let him be +instructed to seek wagers with Messala and his supporters; Ilderim’s four +against Messala’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch reflected a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“The effect will be to centre interest upon your contest.” +</p> + +<p> +“The very thing I seek, Malluch.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see, I see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, Malluch; would you serve me perfectly, help me to fix the public eye +upon our race—Messala’s and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch spoke quickly—“It can be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let it be done,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Enormous wagers offered will answer; if the offers are accepted, all the +better.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch turned his eyes watchfully upon Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I not have back the equivalent of his robbery?” said +Ben-Hur, partly to himself. “Another opportunity may not come. And if I +could break him in fortune as well as in pride! Our father Jacob could take no +offence.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of determined will knit his handsome face, giving emphasis to his +further speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it shall be. Hark, Malluch! Stop not in thy offer of sestertii. +Advance them to talents, if any there be who dare so high. Five, ten, twenty +talents; ay, fifty, so the wager be with Messala himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a mighty sum,” said Malluch. “I must have +security.” +</p> + +<p> +“So thou shalt. Go to Simonides, and tell him I wish the matter arranged. +Tell him my heart is set on the ruin of my enemy, and that the opportunity hath +such excellent promise that I choose such hazards. On our side be the God of +our fathers. Go, good Malluch. Let this not slip.” +</p> + +<p> +And Malluch, greatly delighted, gave him parting salutation, and started to +ride away, but returned presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” he said to Ben-Hur. “There was another matter. +I could not get near Messala’s chariot myself, but I had another measure +it; and, from his report, its hub stands quite a palm higher from the ground +than yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“A palm! So much?” cried Ben-Hur, joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +Then he leaned over to Malluch. +</p> + +<p> +“As thou art a son of Judah, Malluch, and faithful to thy kin, get thee a +seat in the gallery over the Gate of Triumph, down close to the balcony in +front of the pillars, and watch well when we make the turns there; watch well, +for if I have favor at all, I will— Nay, Malluch, let it go unsaid! Only +get thee there, and watch well.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a cry burst from Ilderim. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! By the splendor of God! what is this?” +</p> + +<p> +He drew near Ben-Hur with a finger pointing on the face of the notice. +</p> + +<p> +“Read,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“No; better thou.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took the paper, which, signed by the prefect of the province as editor, +performed the office of a modern programme, giving particularly the several +divertisements provided for the occasion. It informed the public that there +would be first a procession of extraordinary splendor; that the procession +would be succeeded by the customary honors to the god Consus, whereupon the +games would begin; running, leaping, wrestling, boxing, each in the order +stated. The names of the competitors were given, with their several +nationalities and schools of training, the trials in which they had been +engaged, the prizes won, and the prizes now offered; under the latter head the +sums of money were stated in illuminated letters, telling of the departure of +the day when the simple chaplet of pine or laurel was fully enough for the +victor, hungering for glory as something better than riches, and content with +it. +</p> + +<p> +Over these parts of the programme Ben-Hur sped with rapid eyes. At last he came +to the announcement of the race. He read it slowly. Attending lovers of the +heroic sports were assured they would certainly be gratified by an Orestean +struggle unparalleled in Antioch. The city offered the spectacle in honor of +the consul. One hundred thousand sestertii and a crown of laurel were the +prizes. Then followed the particulars. The entries were six in all—fours +only permitted; and, to further interest in the performance, the competitors +would be turned into the course together. Each four then received description. +</p> + +<p> +“I. A four of Lysippus the Corinthian—two grays, a bay, and a +black; entered at Alexandria last year, and again at Corinth, where they were +winners. Lysippus, driver. Color, yellow. +</p> + +<p> +“II. A four of Messala of Rome—two white, two black; victors of the +Circensian as exhibited in the Circus Maximus last year. Messala, driver. +Colors, scarlet and gold. +</p> + +<p> +“III. A four of Cleanthes the Athenian—three gray, one bay; winners +at the Isthmian last year. Cleanthes, driver. Color, green. +</p> + +<p> +“IV. A four of Dicaeus the Byzantine—two black, one gray, one bay; +winners this year at Byzantium. Dicaeus, driver. Color, black. +</p> + +<p> +“V. A four of Admetus the Sidonian—all grays. Thrice entered at +Cæsarea, and thrice victors. Admetus, driver. Color, blue. +</p> + +<p> +“VI. A four of Ilderim, sheik of the Desert. All bays; first race. +Ben-Hur, a Jew, driver. Color, white.” +</p> + +<p> +BEN-HUR, A JEW, DRIVER! +</p> + +<p> +Why that name instead of Arrius? +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur raised his eyes to Ilderim. He had found the cause of the Arab’s +outcry. Both rushed to the same conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +The hand was the hand of Messala! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap55"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +Evening was hardly come upon Antioch, when the Omphalus, nearly in the centre +of the city, became a troubled fountain from which in every direction, but +chiefly down to the Nymphaeum and east and west along the Colonnade of Herod, +flowed currents of people, for the time given up to Bacchus and Apollo. +</p> + +<p> +For such indulgence anything more fitting cannot be imagined than the great +roofed streets, which were literally miles on miles of porticos wrought of +marble, polished to the last degree of finish, and all gifts to the voluptuous +city by princes careless of expenditure where, as in this instance, they +thought they were eternizing themselves. Darkness was not permitted anywhere; +and the singing, the laughter, the shouting, were incessant, and in compound +like the roar of waters dashing through hollow grots, confused by a multitude +of echoes. +</p> + +<p> +The many nationalities represented, though they might have amazed a stranger, +were not peculiar to Antioch. Of the various missions of the great empire, one +seems to have been the fusion of men and the introduction of strangers to each +other; accordingly, whole peoples rose up and went at pleasure, taking with +them their costumes, customs, speech, and gods; and where they chose, they +stopped, engaged in business, built houses, erected altars, and were what they +had been at home. +</p> + +<p> +There was a peculiarity, however, which could not have failed the notice of a +looker-on this night in Antioch. Nearly everybody wore the colors of one or +other of the charioteers announced for the morrow’s race. Sometimes it +was in form of a scarf, sometimes a badge; often a ribbon or a feather. +Whatever the form, it signified merely the wearer’s partiality; thus, +green published a friend of Cleanthes the Athenian, and black an adherent of +the Byzantine. This was according to a custom, old probably as the day of the +race of Orestes—a custom, by the way, worthy of study as a marvel of +history, illustrative of the absurd yet appalling extremities to which men +frequently suffer their follies to drag them. +</p> + +<p> +The observer abroad on this occasion, once attracted to the wearing of colors, +would have very shortly decided that there were three in +predominance—green, white, and the mixed scarlet and gold. +</p> + +<p> +But let us from the streets to the palace on the island. +</p> + +<p> +The five great chandeliers in the saloon are freshly lighted. The assemblage is +much the same as that already noticed in connection with the place. The divan +has its corps of sleepers and burden of garments, and the tables yet resound +with the rattle and clash of dice. Yet the greater part of the company are not +doing anything. They walk about, or yawn tremendously, or pause as they pass +each other to exchange idle nothings. Will the weather be fair to-morrow? Are +the preparations for the games complete? Do the laws of the Circus in Antioch +differ from the laws of the Circus in Rome? Truth is, the young fellows are +suffering from ennui. Their heavy work is done; that is, we would find their +tablets, could we look at them, covered with memoranda of wagers—wagers +on every contest; on the running, the wrestling, the boxing; on everything but +the chariot-race. +</p> + +<p> +And why not on that? +</p> + +<p> +Good reader, they cannot find anybody who will hazard so much as a denarius +with them against Messala. +</p> + +<p> +There are no colors in the saloon but his. +</p> + +<p> +No one thinks of his defeat. +</p> + +<p> +Why, they say, is he not perfect in his training? Did he not graduate from an +imperial lanista? Were not his horses winners at the Circensian in the Circus +Maximus? And then—ah, yes! he is a Roman! +</p> + +<p> +In a corner, at ease on the divan, Messala himself may be seen. Around him, +sitting or standing, are his courtierly admirers, plying him with questions. +There is, of course, but one topic. +</p> + +<p> +Enter Drusus and Cecilius. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cries the young prince, throwing himself on the divan at +Messala’s feet, “Ah, by Bacchus, I am tired!” +</p> + +<p> +“Whither away?” asks Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“Up the street; up to the Omphalus, and beyond—who shall say how +far? Rivers of people; never so many in the city before. They say we will see +the whole world at the Circus to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Messala laughed scornfully. +</p> + +<p> +“The idiots! Perpol! They never beheld a Circensian with Cæsar for +editor. But, my Drusus, what found you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“O—ah! You forget,” said Cecilius. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +“The procession of whites.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mirabile!” cried Drusus, half rising. “We met a faction of +whites, and they had a banner. But—ha, ha, ha!” +</p> + +<p> +He fell back indolently. +</p> + +<p> +“Cruel Drusus—not to go on,” said Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“Scum of the desert were they, my Messala, and garbage-eaters from the +Jacob’s Temple in Jerusalem. What had I to do with them!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Cecilius, “Drusus is afraid of a laugh, but I am +not, my Messala.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak thou, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we stopped the faction, and—” +</p> + +<p> +“Offered them a wager,” said Drusus, relenting, and taking the word +from the shadow’s mouth. “And—ha, ha, ha!—one fellow +with not enough skin on his face to make a worm for a carp stepped forth, +and—ha, ha, ha!—said yes. I drew my tablets. ‘Who is your +man?’ I asked. ‘Ben-Hur, the Jew,’ said he. Then I: +‘What shall it be? How much?’ He answered, +‘A—a—’ Excuse me, Messala. By Jove’s thunder, I +cannot go on for laughter! Ha, ha, ha!” +</p> + +<p> +The listeners leaned forward. +</p> + +<p> +Messala looked to Cecilius. +</p> + +<p> +“A shekel,” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“A shekel! A shekel!” +</p> + +<p> +A burst of scornful laughter ran fast upon the repetition. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did Drusus?” asked Messala. +</p> + +<p> +An outcry over about the door just then occasioned a rush to that quarter; and, +as the noise there continued, and grew louder, even Cecilius betook himself +off, pausing only to say, “The noble Drusus, my Messala, put up his +tablets and—lost the shekel.” +</p> + +<p> +“A white! A white!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come!” +</p> + +<p> +“This way, this way!” +</p> + +<p> +These and like exclamations filled the saloon, to the stoppage of other speech. +The dice-players quit their games; the sleepers awoke, rubbed their eyes, drew +their tablets, and hurried to the common centre. +</p> + +<p> +“I offer you—” +</p> + +<p> +“And I—” +</p> + +<p> +“I—” +</p> + +<p> +The person so warmly received was the respectable Jew, Ben-Hur’s +fellow-voyager from Cyprus. He entered grave, quiet, observant. His robe was +spotlessly white; so was the cloth of his turban. Bowing and smiling at the +welcome, he moved slowly towards the central table. Arrived there, he drew his +robe about him in a stately manner, took seat, and waved his hand. The gleam of +a jewel on a finger helped him not a little to the silence which ensued. +</p> + +<p> +“Romans—most noble Romans—I salute you!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Easy, by Jupiter! Who is he?” asked Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +“A dog of Israel—Sanballat by name—purveyor for the army; +residence, Rome; vastly rich; grown so as a contractor of furnishments which he +never furnishes. He spins mischiefs, nevertheless, finer than spiders spin +their webs. Come—by the girdle of Venus! let us catch him!” +</p> + +<p> +Messala arose as he spoke, and, with Drusus, joined the mass crowded about the +purveyor. +</p> + +<p> +“It came to me on the street,” said that person, producing his +tablets, and opening them on the table with an impressive air of business, +“that there was great discomfort in the palace because offers on Messala +were going without takers. The gods, you know, must have sacrifices; and here +am I. You see my color; let us to the matter. Odds first, amounts next. What +will you give me?” +</p> + +<p> +The audacity seemed to stun his hearers. +</p> + +<p> +“Haste!” he said. “I have an engagement with the +consul.” +</p> + +<p> +The spur was effective. +</p> + +<p> +“Two to one,” cried half a dozen in a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” exclaimed the purveyor, astonished. “Only two to one, +and yours a Roman!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take three, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three say you—only three—and mine but a dog of a Jew! Give +me four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four it is,” said a boy, stung by the taunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Five—give me five,” cried the purveyor, instantly. +</p> + +<p> +A profound stillness fell upon the assemblage. +</p> + +<p> +“The consul—your master and mine—is waiting for me.” +</p> + +<p> +The inaction became awkward to the many. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me five—for the honor of Rome, five.” +</p> + +<p> +“Five let it be,” said one in answer. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sharp cheer—a commotion—and Messala himself appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Five let it be,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And Sanballat smiled, and made ready to write. +</p> + +<p> +“If Cæsar die to-morrow,” he said, “Rome will not be all +bereft. There is at least one other with spirit to take his place. Give me +six.” +</p> + +<p> +“Six be it,” answered Messala. +</p> + +<p> +There was another shout louder than the first. +</p> + +<p> +“Six be it,” repeated Messala. “Six to one—the +difference between a Roman and a Jew. And, having found it, now, O redemptor of +the flesh of swine, let us on. The amount—and quickly. The consul may +send for thee, and I will then be bereft.” +</p> + +<p> +Sanballat took the laugh against him coolly, and wrote, and offered the writing +to Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“Read, read!” everybody demanded. +</p> + +<p> +And Messala read: +</p> + +<p> +“Mem.—Chariot-race. Messala of Rome, in wager with Sanballat, also +of Rome, says he will beat Ben-Hur, the Jew. Amount of wager, twenty talents. +Odds to Sanballat, six to one. +</p> + +<p> +“Witnesses: SANBALLAT.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no noise, no motion. Each person seemed held in the pose the reading +found him. Messala stared at the memorandum, while the eyes which had him in +view opened wide, and stared at him. He felt the gaze, and thought rapidly. So +lately he stood in the same place, and in the same way hectored the countrymen +around him. They would remember it. If he refused to sign, his hero-ship was +lost. And sign he could not; he was not worth one hundred talents, nor the +fifth part of the sum. Suddenly his mind became a blank; he stood speechless; +the color fled his face. An idea at last came to his relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou Jew!” he said, “where hast thou twenty talents? Show +me.” +</p> + +<p> +Sanballat’s provoking smile deepened. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” he replied, offering Messala a paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Read, read!” arose all around. +</p> + +<p> +Again Messala read: +</p> + +<p> +“AT ANTIOCH, Tammuz 16th day. +</p> + +<p> +“The bearer, Sanballat of Rome, hath now to his order with me fifty +talents, coin of Cæsar. +</p> + +<p> +SIMONIDES.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty talents, fifty talents!” echoed the throng, in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +Then Drusus came to the rescue. +</p> + +<p> +“By Hercules!” he shouted, “the paper lies, and the Jew is a +liar. Who but Cæsar hath fifty talents at order? Down with the insolent +white!” +</p> + +<p> +The cry was angry, and it was angrily repeated; yet Sanballat kept his seat, +and his smile grew more exasperating the longer he waited. At length Messala +spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush! One to one, my countrymen—one to one, for love of our +ancient Roman name.” +</p> + +<p> +The timely action recovered him his ascendancy. +</p> + +<p> +“O thou circumcised dog!” he continued, to Sanballat, “I gave +thee six to one, did I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the Jew, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, give me now the fixing of the amount.” +</p> + +<p> +“With reserve, if the amount be trifling, have thy will,” answered +Sanballat. +</p> + +<p> +“Write, then, five in place of twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hast thou so much?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the mother of the gods, I will show you receipts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, the word of so brave a Roman must pass. Only make the sum +even—six make it, and I will write.” +</p> + +<p> +“Write it so.” +</p> + +<p> +And forthwith they exchanged writings. +</p> + +<p> +Sanballat immediately arose and looked around him, a sneer in place of his +smile. No man better than he knew those with whom he was dealing. +</p> + +<p> +“Romans,” he said, “another wager, if you dare! Five talents +against five talents that the white will win. I challenge you +collectively.” +</p> + +<p> +They were again surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” he cried, louder. “Shall it be said in the Circus +to-morrow that a dog of Israel went into the saloon of the palace full of Roman +nobles—among them the scion of a Cæsar—and laid five talents +before them in challenge, and they had not the courage to take it up?” +</p> + +<p> +The sting was unendurable. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done, O insolent!” said Drusus, “write the challenge, +and leave it on the table; and to-morrow, if we find thou hast indeed so much +money to put at such hopeless hazard, I, Drusus, promise it shall be +taken.” +</p> + +<p> +Sanballat wrote again, and, rising, said, unmoved as ever, “See, Drusus, +I leave the offer with you. When it is signed, send it to me any time before +the race begins. I will be found with the consul in a seat over the Porta +Pompae. Peace to you; peace to all.” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed, and departed, careless of the shout of derision with which they +pursued him out of the door. +</p> + +<p> +In the night the story of the prodigious wager flew along the streets and over +the city; and Ben-Hur, lying with his four, was told of it, and also that +Messala’s whole fortune was on the hazard. +</p> + +<p> +And he slept never so soundly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap56"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +The Circus at Antioch stood on the south bank of the river, nearly opposite the +island, differing in no respect from the plan of such buildings in general. +</p> + +<p> +In the purest sense, the games were a gift to the public; consequently, +everybody was free to attend; and, vast as the holding capacity of the +structure was, so fearful were the people, on this occasion, lest there should +not be room for them, that, early the day before the opening of the exhibition, +they took up all the vacant spaces in the vicinity, where their temporary +shelter suggested an army in waiting. +</p> + +<p> +At midnight the entrances were thrown wide, and the rabble, surging in, +occupied the quarters assigned to them, from which nothing less than an +earthquake or an army with spears could have dislodged them. They dozed the +night away on the benches, and breakfasted there; and there the close of the +exercises found them, patient and sight-hungry as in the beginning. +</p> + +<p> +The better people, their seats secured, began moving towards the Circus about +the first hour of the morning, the noble and very rich among them distinguished +by litters and retinues of liveried servants. +</p> + +<p> +By the second hour, the efflux from the city was a stream unbroken and +innumerable. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly as the gnomon of the official dial up in the citadel pointed the second +hour half gone, the legion, in full panoply, and with all its standards on +exhibit, descended from Mount Sulpius; and when the rear of the last cohort +disappeared in the bridge, Antioch was literally abandoned—not that the +Circus could hold the multitude, but that the multitude was gone out to it, +nevertheless. +</p> + +<p> +A great concourse on the river shore witnessed the consul come over from the +island in a barge of state. As the great man landed, and was received by the +legion, the martial show for one brief moment transcended the attraction of the +Circus. +</p> + +<p> +At the third hour, the audience, if such it may be termed, was assembled; at +last, a flourish of trumpets called for silence, and instantly the gaze of over +a hundred thousand persons was directed towards a pile forming the eastern +section of the building. +</p> + +<p> +There was a basement first, broken in the middle by a broad arched passage, +called the Porta Pompae, over which, on an elevated tribunal magnificently +decorated with insignia and legionary standards, the consul sat in the place of +honor. On both sides of the passage the basement was divided into stalls termed +carceres, each protected in front by massive gates swung to statuesque +pilasters. Over the stalls next was a cornice crowned by a low balustrade; back +of which the seats arose in theatre arrangement, all occupied by a throng of +dignitaries superbly attired. The pile extended the width of the Circus, and +was flanked on both sides by towers which, besides helping the architects give +grace to their work, served the velaria, or purple awnings, stretched between +them so as to throw the whole quarter in a shade that became exceedingly +grateful as the day advanced. +</p> + +<p> +This structure, it is now thought, can be made useful in helping the reader to +a sufficient understanding of the arrangement of the rest of the interior of +the Circus. He has only to fancy himself seated on the tribunal with the +consul, facing to the west, where everything is under his eye. +</p> + +<p> +On the right and left, if he will look, he will see the main entrances, very +ample, and guarded by gates hinged to the towers. +</p> + +<p> +Directly below him is the arena—a level plane of considerable extent, +covered with fine white sand. There all the trials will take place except the +running. +</p> + +<p> +Looking across this sanded arena westwardly still, there is a pedestal of +marble supporting three low conical pillars of gray stone, much carven. Many an +eye will hunt for those pillars before the day is done, for they are the first +goal, and mark the beginning and end of the race-course. Behind the pedestal, +leaving a passage-way and space for an altar, commences a wall ten or twelve +feet in breadth and five or six in height, extending thence exactly two hundred +yards, or one Olympic stadium. At the farther, or westward, extremity of the +wall there is another pedestal, surmounted with pillars which mark the second +goal. +</p> + +<p> +The racers will enter the course on the right of the first goal, and keep the +wall all the time to their left. The beginning and ending points of the contest +lie, consequently, directly in front of the consul across the arena; and for +that reason his seat was admittedly the most desirable in the Circus. +</p> + +<p> +Now if the reader, who is still supposed to be seated on the consular tribunal +over the Porta Pompae, will look up from the ground arrangement of the +interior, the first point to attract his notice will be the marking of the +outer boundary-line of the course—that is, a plain-faced, solid wall, +fifteen or twenty feet in height, with a balustrade on its cope, like that over +the carceres, or stalls, in the east. This balcony, if followed round the +course, will be found broken in three places to allow passages of exit and +entrance, two in the north and one in the west; the latter very ornate, and +called the Gate of Triumph, because, when all is over, the victors will pass +out that way, crowned, and with triumphal escort and ceremonies. +</p> + +<p> +At the west end the balcony encloses the course in the form of a half circle, +and is made to uphold two great galleries. +</p> + +<p> +Directly behind the balustrade on the coping of the balcony is the first seat, +from which ascend the succeeding benches, each higher than the one in front of +it; giving to view a spectacle of surpassing interest—the spectacle of a +vast space ruddy and glistening with human faces, and rich with varicolored +costumes. +</p> + +<p> +The commonalty occupy quarters over in the west, beginning at the point of +termination of an awning, stretched, it would seem, for the accommodation of +the better classes exclusively. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus the whole interior of the Circus under view at the moment of the +sounding of the trumpets, let the reader next imagine the multitude seated and +sunk to sudden silence, and motionless in its intensity of interest. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the Porta Pompae over in the east rises a sound mixed of voices and +instruments harmonized. Presently, forth issues the chorus of the procession +with which the celebration begins; the editor and civic authorities of the +city, givers of the games, follow in robes and garlands; then the gods, some on +platforms borne by men, others in great four-wheel carriages gorgeously +decorated; next them, again, the contestants of the day, each in costume +exactly as he will run, wrestle, leap, box, or drive. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly crossing the arena, the procession proceeds to make circuit of the +course. The display is beautiful and imposing. Approval runs before it in a +shout, as the water rises and swells in front of a boat in motion. If the dumb, +figured gods make no sign of appreciation of the welcome, the editor and his +associates are not so backward. +</p> + +<p> +The reception of the athletes is even more demonstrative, for there is not a +man in the assemblage who has not something in wager upon them, though but a +mite or farthing. And it is noticeable, as the classes move by, that the +favorites among them are speedily singled out: either their names are loudest +in the uproar, or they are more profusely showered with wreaths and garlands +tossed to them from the balcony. +</p> + +<p> +If there is a question as to the popularity with the public of the several +games, it is now put to rest. To the splendor of the chariots and the +superexcellent beauty of the horses, the charioteers add the personality +necessary to perfect the charm of their display. Their tunics, short, +sleeveless, and of the finest woollen texture, are of the assigned colors. A +horseman accompanies each one of them except Ben-Hur, who, for some +reason—possibly distrust—has chosen to go alone; so, too, they are +all helmeted but him. As they approach, the spectators stand upon the benches, +and there is a sensible deepening of the clamor, in which a sharp listener may +detect the shrill piping of women and children; at the same time, the things +roseate flying from the balcony thicken into a storm, and, striking the men, +drop into the chariot-beds, which are threatened with filling to the tops. Even +the horses have a share in the ovation; nor may it be said they are less +conscious than their masters of the honors they receive. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon, as with the other contestants, it is made apparent that some of the +drivers are more in favor than others; and then the discovery follows that +nearly every individual on the benches, women and children as well as men, +wears a color, most frequently a ribbon upon the breast or in the hair: now it +is green, now yellow, now blue; but, searching the great body carefully, it is +manifest that there is a preponderance of white, and scarlet and gold. +</p> + +<p> +In a modern assemblage called together as this one is, particularly where there +are sums at hazard upon the race, a preference would be decided by the +qualities or performance of the horses; here, however, nationality was the +rule. If the Byzantine and Sidonian found small support, it was because their +cities were scarcely represented on the benches. On their side, the Greeks, +though very numerous, were divided between the Corinthian and the Athenian, +leaving but a scant showing of green and yellow. Messala’s scarlet and +gold would have been but little better had not the citizens of Antioch, +proverbially a race of courtiers, joined the Romans by adopting the color of +their favorite. There were left then the country people, or Syrians, the Jews, +and the Arabs; and they, from faith in the blood of the sheik’s four, +blent largely with hate of the Romans, whom they desired, above all things, to +see beaten and humbled, mounted the white, making the most noisy, and probably +the most numerous, faction of all. +</p> + +<p> +As the charioteers move on in the circuit, the excitement increases; at the +second goal, where, especially in the galleries, the white is the ruling color, +the people exhaust their flowers and rive the air with screams. +</p> + +<p> +“Messala! Messala!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ben-Hur! Ben-Hur!” +</p> + +<p> +Such are the cries. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the passage of the procession, the factionists take their seats and resume +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, by Bacchus! was he not handsome?” exclaims a woman, whose +Romanism is betrayed by the colors flying in her hair. +</p> + +<p> +“And how splendid his chariot!” replies a neighbor, of the same +proclivities. “It is all ivory and gold. Jupiter grant he wins!” +</p> + +<p> +The notes on the bench behind them were entirely different. +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred shekels on the Jew!” +</p> + +<p> +The voice is high and shrill. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, be thou not rash,” whispers a moderating friend to the +speaker. “The children of Jacob are not much given to Gentile sports, +which are too often accursed in the sight of the Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, but saw you ever one more cool and assured? And what an arm he +has!” +</p> + +<p> +“And what horses!” says a third. +</p> + +<p> +“And for that,” a fourth one adds, “they say he has all the +tricks of the Romans.” +</p> + +<p> +A woman completes the eulogium: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and he is even handsomer than the Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged, the enthusiast shrieks again, “A hundred shekels on the +Jew!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou fool!” answers an Antiochian, from a bench well forward on +the balcony. “Knowest thou not there are fifty talents laid against him, +six to one, on Messala? Put up thy shekels, lest Abraham rise and smite +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! thou ass of Antioch! Cease thy bray. Knowest thou not it was +Messala betting on himself?” +</p> + +<p> +Such the reply. +</p> + +<p> +And so ran the controversy, not always good-natured. +</p> + +<p> +When at length the march was ended and the Porta Pompae received back the +procession, Ben-Hur knew he had his prayer. +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the East were upon his contest with Messala. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap57"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +About three o’clock, speaking in modern style, the program was concluded +except the chariot-race. The editor, wisely considerate of the comfort of the +people, chose that time for a recess. At once the vomitoria were thrown open, +and all who could hastened to the portico outside where the restaurateurs had +their quarters. Those who remained yawned, talked, gossiped, consulted their +tablets, and, all distinctions else forgotten, merged into but two +classes—the winners, who were happy, and the losers, who were grum and +captious. +</p> + +<p> +Now, however, a third class of spectators, composed of citizens who desired +only to witness the chariot-race, availed themselves of the recess to come in +and take their reserved seats; by so doing they thought to attract the least +attention and give the least offence. Among these were Simonides and his party, +whose places were in the vicinity of the main entrance on the north side, +opposite the consul. +</p> + +<p> +As the four stout servants carried the merchant in his chair up the aisle, +curiosity was much excited. Presently some one called his name. Those about +caught it and passed it on along the benches to the west; and there was hurried +climbing on seats to get sight of the man about whom common report had coined +and put in circulation a romance so mixed of good fortune and bad that the like +had never been known or heard of before. +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim was also recognized and warmly greeted; but nobody knew Balthasar or +the two women who followed him closely veiled. +</p> + +<p> +The people made way for the party respectfully, and the ushers seated them in +easy speaking distance of each other down by the balustrade overlooking the +arena. In providence of comfort, they sat upon cushions and had stools for +footrests. +</p> + +<p> +The women were Iras and Esther. +</p> + +<p> +Upon being seated, the latter cast a frightened look over the Circus, and drew +the veil closer about her face; while the Egyptian, letting her veil fall upon +her shoulders, gave herself to view, and gazed at the scene with the seeming +unconsciousness of being stared at, which, in a woman, is usually the result of +long social habitude. +</p> + +<p> +The new-comers generally were yet making their first examination of the great +spectacle, beginning with the consul and his attendants, when some workmen ran +in and commenced to stretch a chalked rope across the arena from balcony to +balcony in front of the pillars of the first goal. +</p> + +<p> +About the same time, also, six men came in through the Porta Pompae and took +post, one in front of each occupied stall; whereat there was a prolonged hum of +voices in every quarter. +</p> + +<p> +“See, see! The green goes to number four on the right; the Athenian is +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Messala—yes, he is in number two.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Corinthian—” +</p> + +<p> +“Watch the white! See, he crosses over, he stops; number one it +is—number one on the left.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the black stops there, and the white at number two.” +</p> + +<p> +“So it is.” +</p> + +<p> +These gate-keepers, it should be understood, were dressed in tunics colored +like those of the competing charioteers; so, when they took their stations, +everybody knew the particular stall in which his favorite was that moment +waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever see Messala?” the Egyptian asked Esther. +</p> + +<p> +The Jewess shuddered as she answered no. If not her father’s enemy, the +Roman was Ben-Hur’s. +</p> + +<p> +“He is beautiful as Apollo.” +</p> + +<p> +As Iras spoke, her large eyes brightened and she shook her jeweled fan. Esther +looked at her with the thought, “Is he, then, so much handsomer than +Ben-Hur?” Next moment she heard Ilderim say to her father, “Yes, +his stall is number two on the left of the Porta Pompae;” and, thinking +it was of Ben-Hur he spoke, her eyes turned that way. Taking but the briefest +glance at the wattled face of the gate, she drew the veil close and muttered a +little prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Sanballat came to the party. +</p> + +<p> +“I am just from the stalls, O sheik,” he said, bowing gravely to +Ilderim, who began combing his beard, while his eyes glittered with eager +inquiry. “The horses are in perfect condition.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim replied simply, “If they are beaten, I pray it be by some other +than Messala.” +</p> + +<p> +Turning then to Simonides, Sanballat drew out a tablet, saying, “I bring +you also something of interest. I reported, you will remember, the wager +concluded with Messala last night, and stated that I left another which, if +taken, was to be delivered to me in writing to-day before the race began. Here +it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides took the tablet and read the memorandum carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “their emissary came to ask me if you had so +much money with me. Keep the tablet close. If you lose, you know where to come; +if you win”—his face knit hard—“if you win—ah, +friend, see to it! See the signers escape not; hold them to the last shekel. +That is what they would with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Trust me,” replied the purveyor. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you not sit with us?” asked Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very good,” the other returned; “but if I leave the +consul, young Rome yonder will boil over. Peace to you; peace to all.” +</p> + +<p> +At length the recess came to an end. +</p> + +<p> +The trumpeters blew a call at which the absentees rushed back to their places. +At the same time, some attendants appeared in the arena, and, climbing upon the +division wall, went to an entablature near the second goal at the west end, and +placed upon it seven wooden balls; then returning to the first goal, upon an +entablature there they set up seven other pieces of wood hewn to represent +dolphins. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall they do with the balls and fishes, O sheik?” asked +Balthasar. +</p> + +<p> +“Hast thou never attended a race?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never before; and hardly know I why I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they are to keep the count. At the end of each round run thou +shalt see one ball and one fish taken down.” +</p> + +<p> +The preparations were now complete, and presently a trumpeter in gaudy uniform +arose by the editor, ready to blow the signal of commencement promptly at his +order. Straightway the stir of the people and the hum of their conversation +died away. Every face near-by, and every face in the lessening perspective, +turned to the east, as all eyes settled upon the gates of the six stalls which +shut in the competitors. +</p> + +<p> +The unusual flush upon his face gave proof that even Simonides had caught the +universal excitement. Ilderim pulled his beard fast and furious. +</p> + +<p> +“Look now for the Roman,” said the fair Egyptian to Esther, who did +not hear her, for, with close-drawn veil and beating heart, she sat watching +for Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +The structure containing the stalls, it should be observed, was in form of the +segment of a circle, retired on the right so that its central point was +projected forward, and midway the course, on the starting side of the first +goal. Every stall, consequently, was equally distant from the starting-line or +chalked rope above mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +The trumpet sounded short and sharp; whereupon the starters, one for each +chariot, leaped down from behind the pillars of the goal, ready to give +assistance if any of the fours proved unmanageable. +</p> + +<p> +Again the trumpet blew, and simultaneously the gate-keepers threw the stalls +open. +</p> + +<p> +First appeared the mounted attendants of the charioteers, five in all, Ben-Hur +having rejected the service. The chalked line was lowered to let them pass, +then raised again. They were beautifully mounted, yet scarcely observed as they +rode forward; for all the time the trampling of eager horses, and the voices of +drivers scarcely less eager, were heard behind in the stalls, so that one might +not look away an instant from the gaping doors. +</p> + +<p> +The chalked line up again, the gate-keepers called their men; instantly the +ushers on the balcony waved their hands, and shouted with all their strength, +“Down! down!” +</p> + +<p> +As well have whistled to stay a storm. +</p> + +<p> +Forth from each stall, like missiles in a volley from so many great guns, +rushed the six fours; and up the vast assemblage arose, electrified and +irrepressible, and, leaping upon the benches, filled the Circus and the air +above it with yells and screams. This was the time for which they had so +patiently waited!—this the moment of supreme interest treasured up in +talk and dreams since the proclamation of the games! +</p> + +<p> +“He is come—there—look!” cried Iras, pointing to +Messala. +</p> + +<p> +“I see him,” answered Esther, looking at Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +The veil was withdrawn. For an instant the little Jewess was brave. An idea of +the joy there is in doing an heroic deed under the eyes of a multitude came to +her, and she understood ever after how, at such times, the souls of men, in the +frenzy of performance, laugh at death or forget it utterly. +</p> + +<p> +The competitors were now under view from nearly every part of the Circus, yet +the race was not begun; they had first to make the chalked line successfully. +</p> + +<p> +The line was stretched for the purpose of equalizing the start. If it were +dashed upon, discomfiture of man and horses might be apprehended; on the other +hand, to approach it timidly was to incur the hazard of being thrown behind in +the beginning of the race; and that was certain forfeit of the great advantage +always striven for—the position next the division wall on the inner line +of the course. +</p> + +<p> +This trial, its perils and consequences, the spectators knew thoroughly; and if +the opinion of old Nestor, uttered that time he handed the reins to his son, +were true— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“It is not strength, but art, obtained the prize,<br> +And to be swift is less than to be wise”— +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +all on the benches might well look for warning of the winner to be now given, +justifying the interest with which they breathlessly watched for the result. +</p> + +<p> +The arena swam in a dazzle of light; yet each driver looked first thing for the +rope, then for the coveted inner line. So, all six aiming at the same point and +speeding furiously, a collision seemed inevitable; nor that merely. What if the +editor, at the last moment, dissatisfied with the start, should withhold the +signal to drop the rope? Or if he should not give it in time? +</p> + +<p> +The crossing was about two hundred and fifty feet in width. Quick the eye, +steady the hand, unerring the judgment required. If now one look away! or his +mind wander! or a rein slip! And what attraction in the ensemble of the +thousands over the spreading balcony! Calculating upon the natural impulse to +give one glance—just one—in sooth of curiosity or vanity, malice +might be there with an artifice; while friendship and love, did they serve the +same result, might be as deadly as malice. +</p> + +<p> +The divine last touch in perfecting the beautiful is animation. Can we accept +the saying, then these latter days, so tame in pastime and dull in sports, have +scarcely anything to compare to the spectacle offered by the six contestants. +Let the reader try to fancy it; let him first look down upon the arena, and see +it glistening in its frame of dull-gray granite walls; let him then, in this +perfect field, see the chariots, light of wheel, very graceful, and ornate as +paint and burnishing can make them—Messala’s rich with ivory and +gold; let him see the drivers, erect and statuesque, undisturbed by the motion +of the cars, their limbs naked, and fresh and ruddy with the healthful polish +of the baths—in their right hands goads, suggestive of torture dreadful +to the thought—in their left hands, held in careful separation, and high, +that they may not interfere with view of the steeds, the reins passing taut +from the fore ends of the carriage-poles; let him see the fours, chosen for +beauty as well as speed; let him see them in magnificent action, their masters +not more conscious of the situation and all that is asked and hoped from +them—their heads tossing, nostrils in play, now distent, now +contracted—limbs too dainty for the sand which they touch but to +spurn—limbs slender, yet with impact crushing as hammers—every +muscle of the rounded bodies instinct with glorious life, swelling, +diminishing, justifying the world in taking from them its ultimate measure of +force; finally, along with chariots, drivers, horses, let the reader see the +accompanying shadows fly; and, with such distinctness as the picture comes, he +may share the satisfaction and deeper pleasure of those to whom it was a +thrilling fact, not a feeble fancy. Every age has its plenty of sorrows; Heaven +help where there are no pleasures! +</p> + +<p> +The competitors having started each on the shortest line for the position next +the wall, yielding would be like giving up the race; and who dared yield? It is +not in common nature to change a purpose in mid-career; and the cries of +encouragement from the balcony were indistinguishable and indescribable: a roar +which had the same effect upon all the drivers. +</p> + +<p> +The fours neared the rope together. Then the trumpeter by the editor’s +side blew a signal vigorously. Twenty feet away it was not heard. Seeing the +action, however, the judges dropped the rope, and not an instant too soon, for +the hoof of one of Messala’s horses struck it as it fell. Nothing +daunted, the Roman shook out his long lash, loosed the reins, leaned forward, +and, with a triumphant shout, took the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Jove with us! Jove with us!” yelled all the Roman faction, in a +frenzy of delight. +</p> + +<p> +As Messala turned in, the bronze lion’s head at the end of his axle +caught the fore-leg of the Athenian’s right-hand trace-mate, flinging the +brute over against its yoke-fellow. Both staggered, struggled, and lost their +headway. The ushers had their will at least in part. The thousands held their +breath with horror; only up where the consul sat was there shouting. +</p> + +<p> +“Jove with us!” screamed Drusus, frantically. +</p> + +<p> +“He wins! Jove with us!” answered his associates, seeing Messala +speed on. +</p> + +<p> +Tablet in hand, Sanballat turned to them; a crash from the course below stopped +his speech, and he could not but look that way. +</p> + +<p> +Messala having passed, the Corinthian was the only contestant on the +Athenian’s right, and to that side the latter tried to turn his broken +four; and then; as ill-fortune would have it, the wheel of the Byzantine, who +was next on the left, struck the tail-piece of his chariot, knocking his feet +from under him. There was a crash, a scream of rage and fear, and the +unfortunate Cleanthes fell under the hoofs of his own steeds: a terrible sight, +against which Esther covered her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +On swept the Corinthian, on the Byzantine, on the Sidonian. +</p> + +<p> +Sanballat looked for Ben-Hur, and turned again to Drusus and his coterie. +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Taken!” answered Drusus. +</p> + +<p> +“Another hundred on the Jew!” shouted Sanballat. +</p> + +<p> +Nobody appeared to hear him. He called again; the situation below was too +absorbing, and they were too busy shouting, “Messala! Messala! Jove with +us!” +</p> + +<p> +When the Jewess ventured to look again, a party of workmen were removing the +horses and broken car; another party were taking off the man himself; and every +bench upon which there was a Greek was vocal with execrations and prayers for +vengeance. Suddenly she dropped her hands; Ben-Hur, unhurt, was to the front, +coursing freely forward along with the Roman! Behind them, in a group, followed +the Sidonian, the Corinthian, and the Byzantine. +</p> + +<p> +The race was on; the souls of the racers were in it; over them bent the +myriads. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap58"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p> +When the dash for position began, Ben-Hur, as we have seen, was on the extreme +left of the six. For a moment, like the others, he was half blinded by the +light in the arena; yet he managed to catch sight of his antagonists and divine +their purpose. At Messala, who was more than an antagonist to him, he gave one +searching look. The air of passionless hauteur characteristic of the fine +patrician face was there as of old, and so was the Italian beauty, which the +helmet rather increased; but more—it may have been a jealous fancy, or +the effect of the brassy shadow in which the features were at the moment cast, +still the Israelite thought he saw the soul of the man as through a glass, +darkly: cruel, cunning, desperate; not so excited as determined—a soul in +a tension of watchfulness and fierce resolve. +</p> + +<p> +In a time not longer than was required to turn to his four again, Ben-Hur felt +his own resolution harden to a like temper. At whatever cost, at all hazards, +he would humble this enemy! Prize, friends, wagers, honor—everything that +can be thought of as a possible interest in the race was lost in the one +deliberate purpose. Regard for life even should not hold him back. Yet there +was no passion, on his part; no blinding rush of heated blood from heart to +brain, and back again; no impulse to fling himself upon Fortune: he did not +believe in Fortune; far otherwise. He had his plan, and, confiding in himself, +he settled to the task never more observant, never more capable. The air about +him seemed aglow with a renewed and perfect transparency. +</p> + +<p> +When not half-way across the arena, he saw that Messala’s rush would, if +there was no collision, and the rope fell, give him the wall; that the rope +would fall, he ceased as soon to doubt; and, further, it came to him, a sudden +flash-like insight, that Messala knew it was to be let drop at the last moment +(prearrangement with the editor could safely reach that point in the contest); +and it suggested, what more Roman-like than for the official to lend himself to +a countryman who, besides being so popular, had also so much at stake? There +could be no other accounting for the confidence with which Messala pushed his +four forward the instant his competitors were prudentially checking their fours +in front of the obstruction—no other except madness. +</p> + +<p> +It is one thing to see a necessity and another to act upon it. Ben-Hur yielded +the wall for the time. +</p> + +<p> +The rope fell, and all the fours but his sprang into the course under urgency +of voice and lash. He drew head to the right, and, with all the speed of his +Arabs, darted across the trails of his opponents, the angle of movement being +such as to lose the least time and gain the greatest possible advance. So, +while the spectators were shivering at the Athenian’s mishap, and the +Sidonian, Byzantine, and Corinthian were striving, with such skill as they +possessed, to avoid involvement in the ruin, Ben-Hur swept around and took the +course neck and neck with Messala, though on the outside. The marvellous skill +shown in making the change thus from the extreme left across to the right +without appreciable loss did not fail the sharp eyes upon the benches; the +Circus seemed to rock and rock again with prolonged applause. Then Esther +clasped her hands in glad surprise; then Sanballat, smiling, offered his +hundred sestertii a second time without a taker; and then the Romans began to +doubt, thinking Messala might have found an equal, if not a master, and that in +an Israelite! +</p> + +<p> +And now, racing together side by side, a narrow interval between them, the two +neared the second goal. +</p> + +<p> +The pedestal of the three pillars there, viewed from the west, was a stone wall +in the form of a half-circle, around which the course and opposite balcony were +bent in exact parallelism. Making this turn was considered in all respects the +most telling test of a charioteer; it was, in fact, the very feat in which +Oraetes failed. As an involuntary admission of interest on the part of the +spectators, a hush fell over all the Circus, so that for the first time in the +race the rattle and clang of the cars plunging after the tugging steeds were +distinctly heard. Then, it would seem, Messala observed Ben-Hur, and recognized +him; and at once the audacity of the man flamed out in an astonishing manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Down Eros, up Mars!” he shouted, whirling his lash with practised +hand—“Down Eros, up Mars!” he repeated, and caught the +well-doing Arabs of Ben-Hur a cut the like of which they had never known. +</p> + +<p> +The blow was seen in every quarter, and the amazement was universal. The +silence deepened; up on the benches behind the consul the boldest held his +breath, waiting for the outcome. Only a moment thus: then, involuntarily, down +from the balcony, as thunder falls, burst the indignant cry of the people. +</p> + +<p> +The four sprang forward affrighted. No hand had ever been laid upon them except +in love; they had been nurtured ever so tenderly; and as they grew, their +confidence in man became a lesson to men beautiful to see. What should such +dainty natures do under such indignity but leap as from death? +</p> + +<p> +Forward they sprang as with one impulse, and forward leaped the car. Past +question, every experience is serviceable to us. Where got Ben-Hur the large +hand and mighty grip which helped him now so well? Where but from the oar with +which so long he fought the sea? And what was this spring of the floor under +his feet to the dizzy eccentric lurch with which in the old time the trembling +ship yielded to the beat of staggering billows, drunk with their power? So he +kept his place, and gave the four free rein, and called to them in soothing +voice, trying merely to guide them round the dangerous turn; and before the +fever of the people began to abate, he had back the mastery. Nor that only: on +approaching the first goal, he was again side by side with Messala, bearing +with him the sympathy and admiration of every one not a Roman. So clearly was +the feeling shown, so vigorous its manifestation, that Messala, with all his +boldness, felt it unsafe to trifle further. +</p> + +<p> +As the cars whirled round the goal, Esther caught sight of Ben-Hur’s +face—a little pale, a little higher raised, otherwise calm, even placid. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately a man climbed on the entablature at the west end of the division +wall, and took down one of the conical wooden balls. A dolphin on the east +entablature was taken down at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +In like manner, the second ball and second dolphin disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +And then the third ball and third dolphin. +</p> + +<p> +Three rounds concluded: still Messala held the inside position; still Ben-Hur +moved with him side by side; still the other competitors followed as before. +The contest began to have the appearance of one of the double races which +became so popular in Rome during the later Cæsarean period—Messala and +Ben-Hur in the first, the Corinthian, Sidonian, and Byzantine in the second. +Meantime the ushers succeeded in returning the multitude to their seats, though +the clamor continued to run the rounds, keeping, as it were, even pace with the +rivals in the course below. +</p> + +<p> +In the fifth round the Sidonian succeeded in getting a place outside Ben-Hur, +but lost it directly. +</p> + +<p> +The sixth round was entered upon without change of relative position. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the speed had been quickened—gradually the blood of the +competitors warmed with the work. Men and beasts seemed to know alike that the +final crisis was near, bringing the time for the winner to assert himself. +</p> + +<p> +The interest which from the beginning had centred chiefly in the struggle +between the Roman and the Jew, with an intense and general sympathy for the +latter, was fast changing to anxiety on his account. On all the benches the +spectators bent forward motionless, except as their faces turned following the +contestants. Ilderim quitted combing his beard, and Esther forgot her fears. +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!” cried Sanballat to the Romans +under the consul’s awning. +</p> + +<p> +There was no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“A talent—or five talents, or ten; choose ye!” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his tablets at them defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I will take thy sestertii,” answered a Roman youth, preparing to +write. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not so,” interposed a friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Messala hath reached his utmost speed. See him lean over his chariot +rim, the reins loose as flying ribbons. Look then at the Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +The first one looked. +</p> + +<p> +“By Hercules!” he replied, his countenance falling. “The dog +throws all his weight on the bits. I see, I see! If the gods help not our +friend, he will be run away with by the Israelite. No, not yet. Look! Jove with +us, Jove with us!” +</p> + +<p> +The cry, swelled by every Latin tongue, shook the velaria over the +consul’s head. +</p> + +<p> +If it were true that Messala had attained his utmost speed, the effort was with +effect; slowly but certainly he was beginning to forge ahead. His horses were +running with their heads low down; from the balcony their bodies appeared +actually to skim the earth; their nostrils showed blood red in expansion; their +eyes seemed straining in their sockets. Certainly the good steeds were doing +their best! How long could they keep the pace? It was but the commencement of +the sixth round. On they dashed. As they neared the second goal, Ben-Hur turned +in behind the Roman’s car. +</p> + +<p> +The joy of the Messala faction reached its bound: they screamed and howled, and +tossed their colors; and Sanballat filled his tablets with wagers of their +tendering. +</p> + +<p> +Malluch, in the lower gallery over the Gate of Triumph, found it hard to keep +his cheer. He had cherished the vague hint dropped to him by Ben-Hur of +something to happen in the turning of the western pillars. It was the fifth +round, yet the something had not come; and he had said to himself, the sixth +will bring it; but, lo! Ben-Hur was hardly holding a place at the tail of his +enemy’s car. +</p> + +<p> +Over in the east end, Simonides’ party held their peace. The +merchant’s head was bent low. Ilderim tugged at his beard, and dropped +his brows till there was nothing of his eyes but an occasional sparkle of +light. Esther scarcely breathed. Iras alone appeared glad. +</p> + +<p> +Along the home-stretch—sixth round—Messala leading, next him +Ben-Hur, and so close it was the old story: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds;<br> +With those of Tros bold Diomed succeeds;<br> +Close on Eumelus’ back they puff the wind,<br> +And seem just mounting on his car behind;<br> +Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze,<br> +And, hovering o’er, their stretching shadow sees.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus to the first goal, and round it. Messala, fearful of losing his place, +hugged the stony wall with perilous clasp; a foot to the left, and he had been +dashed to pieces; yet, when the turn was finished, no man, looking at the +wheel-tracks of the two cars, could have said, here went Messala, there the +Jew. They left but one trace behind them. +</p> + +<p> +As they whirled by, Esther saw Ben-Hur’s face again, and it was whiter +than before. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides, shrewder than Esther, said to Ilderim, the moment the rivals turned +into the course, “I am no judge, good sheik, if Ben-Hur be not about to +execute some design. His face hath that look.” +</p> + +<p> +To which Ilderim answered, “Saw you how clean they were and fresh? By the +splendor of God, friend, they have not been running! But now watch!” +</p> + +<p> +One ball and one dolphin remained on the entablatures; and all the people drew +a long breath, for the beginning of the end was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +First, the Sidonian gave the scourge to his four, and, smarting with fear and +pain, they dashed desperately forward, promising for a brief time to go to the +front. The effort ended in promise. Next, the Byzantine and the Corinthian each +made the trial with like result, after which they were practically out of the +race. Thereupon, with a readiness perfectly explicable, all the factions except +the Romans joined hope in Ben-Hur, and openly indulged their feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“Ben-Hur! Ben-Hur!” they shouted, and the blent voices of the many +rolled overwhelmingly against the consular stand. +</p> + +<p> +From the benches above him as he passed, the favor descended in fierce +injunctions. +</p> + +<p> +“Speed thee, Jew!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take the wall now!” +</p> + +<p> +“On! loose the Arabs! Give them rein and scourge!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him not have the turn on thee again. Now or never!” +</p> + +<p> +Over the balustrade they stooped low, stretching their hands imploringly to +him. +</p> + +<p> +Either he did not hear, or could not do better, for halfway round the course +and he was still following; at the second goal even still no change! +</p> + +<p> +And now, to make the turn, Messala began to draw in his left-hand steeds, an +act which necessarily slackened their speed. His spirit was high; more than one +altar was richer of his vows; the Roman genius was still president. On the +three pillars only six hundred feet away were fame, increase of fortune, +promotions, and a triumph ineffably sweetened by hate, all in store for him! +That moment Malluch, in the gallery, saw Ben-Hur lean forward over his Arabs, +and give them the reins. Out flew the many-folded lash in his hand; over the +backs of the startled steeds it writhed and hissed, and hissed and writhed +again and again; and though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in +its quick report; and as the man passed thus from quiet to resistless action, +his face suffused, his eyes gleaming, along the reins he seemed to flash his +will; and instantly not one, but the four as one, answered with a leap that +landed them alongside the Roman’s car. Messala, on the perilous edge of +the goal, heard, but dared not look to see what the awakening portended. From +the people he received no sign. Above the noises of the race there was but one +voice, and that was Ben-Hur’s. In the old Aramaic, as the sheik himself, +he called to the Arabs, +</p> + +<p> +“On, Atair! On, Rigel! What, Antares! dost thou linger now? Good +horse—oho, Aldebaran! I hear them singing in the tents. I hear the +children singing and the women—singing of the stars, of Atair, Antares, +Rigel, Aldebaran, victory!—and the song will never end. Well done! Home +to-morrow, under the black tent—home! On, Antares! The tribe is waiting +for us, and the master is waiting! ’Tis done! ’tis done! Ha, ha! We +have overthrown the proud. The hand that smote us is in the dust. Ours the +glory! Ha, ha!—steady! The work is done—soho! Rest!” +</p> + +<p> +There had never been anything of the kind more simple; seldom anything so +instantaneous. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment chosen for the dash, Messala was moving in a circle round the +goal. To pass him, Ben-Hur had to cross the track, and good strategy required +the movement to be in a forward direction; that is, on a like circle limited to +the least possible increase. The thousands on the benches understood it all: +they saw the signal given—the magnificent response; the four close +outside Messala’s outer wheel; Ben-Hur’s inner wheel behind the +other’s car—all this they saw. Then they heard a crash loud enough +to send a thrill through the Circus, and, quicker than thought, out over the +course a spray of shining white and yellow flinders flew. Down on its right +side toppled the bed of the Roman’s chariot. There was a rebound as of +the axle hitting the hard earth; another and another; then the car went to +pieces; and Messala, entangled in the reins, pitched forward headlong. +</p> + +<p> +To increase the horror of the sight by making death certain, the Sidonian, who +had the wall next behind, could not stop or turn out. Into the wreck full speed +he drove; then over the Roman, and into the latter’s four, all mad with +fear. Presently, out of the turmoil, the fighting of horses, the resound of +blows, the murky cloud of dust and sand, he crawled, in time to see the +Corinthian and Byzantine go on down the course after Ben-Hur, who had not been +an instant delayed. +</p> + +<p> +The people arose, and leaped upon the benches, and shouted and screamed. Those +who looked that way caught glimpses of Messala, now under the trampling of the +fours, now under the abandoned cars. He was still; they thought him dead; but +far the greater number followed Ben-Hur in his career. They had not seen the +cunning touch of the reins by which, turning a little to the left, he caught +Messala’s wheel with the iron-shod point of his axle, and crushed it; but +they had seen the transformation of the man, and themselves felt the heat and +glow of his spirit, the heroic resolution, the maddening energy of action with +which, by look, word, and gesture, he so suddenly inspired his Arabs. And such +running! It was rather the long leaping of lions in harness; but for the +lumbering chariot, it seemed the four were flying. When the Byzantine and +Corinthian were halfway down the course, Ben-Hur turned the first goal. +</p> + +<p> +AND THE RACE WAS WON! +</p> + +<p> +The consul arose; the people shouted themselves hoarse; the editor came down +from his seat, and crowned the victors. +</p> + +<p> +The fortunate man among the boxers was a low-browed, yellow-haired Saxon, of +such brutalized face as to attract a second look from Ben-Hur, who recognized a +teacher with whom he himself had been a favorite at Rome. From him the young +Jew looked up and beheld Simonides and his party on the balcony. They waved +their hands to him. Esther kept her seat; but Iras arose, and gave him a smile +and a wave of her fan—favors not the less intoxicating to him because we +know, O reader, they would have fallen to Messala had he been the victor. +</p> + +<p> +The procession was then formed, and, midst the shouting of the multitude which +had had its will, passed out of the Gate of Triumph. +</p> + +<p> +And the day was over. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap59"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p> +Ben-Hur tarried across the river with Ilderim; for at midnight, as previously +determined, they would take the road which the caravan, then thirty hours out, +had pursued. +</p> + +<p> +The sheik was happy; his offers of gifts had been royal; but Ben-Hur had +refused everything, insisting that he was satisfied with the humiliation of his +enemy. The generous dispute was long continued. +</p> + +<p> +“Think,” the sheik would say, “what thou hast done for me. In +every black tent down to the Akaba and to the ocean, and across to the +Euphrates, and beyond to the sea of the Scythians, the renown of my Mira and +her children will go; and they who sing of them will magnify me, and forget +that I am in the wane of life; and all the spears now masterless will come to +me, and my sword-hands multiply past counting. Thou dost not know what it is to +have sway of the desert such as will now be mine. I tell thee it will bring +tribute incalculable from commerce, and immunity from kings. Ay, by the sword +of Solomon! doth my messenger seek favor for me of Cæsar, that will he get. +Yet nothing—nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +And Ben-Hur would answer, +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, sheik, have I not thy hand and heart? Let thy increase of power and +influence inure to the King who comes. Who shall say it was not allowed thee +for him? In the work I am going to, I may have great need. Saying no now will +leave me to ask of thee with better grace hereafter.” +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of a controversy of the kind, two messengers arrived—Malluch +and one unknown. The former was admitted first. +</p> + +<p> +The good fellow did not attempt to hide his joy over the event of the day. +</p> + +<p> +“But, coming to that with which I am charged,” he said, “the +master Simonides sends me to say that, upon the adjournment of the games, some +of the Roman faction made haste to protest against payment of the money +prize.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim started up, crying, in his shrillest tones, +</p> + +<p> +“By the splendor of God! the East shall decide whether the race was +fairly won.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, good sheik,” said Malluch, “the editor has paid the +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis well.” +</p> + +<p> +“When they said Ben-Hur struck Messala’s wheel, the editor laughed, +and reminded them of the blow the Arabs had at the turn of the goal.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what of the Athenian?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” cried Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” echoed Ilderim. “What fortune these Roman monsters +have! Messala escaped?” +</p> + +<p> +“Escaped—yes, O sheik, with life; but it shall be a burden to him. +The physicians say he will live, but never walk again.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked silently up to heaven. He had a vision of Messala, chairbound +like Simonides, and, like him, going abroad on the shoulders of servants. The +good man had abode well; but what would this one with his pride and ambition? +</p> + +<p> +“Simonides bade me say, further,” Malluch continued, +“Sanballat is having trouble. Drusus, and those who signed with him, +referred the question of paying the five talents they lost to the Consul +Maxentius, and he has referred it to Cæsar. Messala also refused his losses, +and Sanballat, in imitation of Drusus, went to the consul, where the matter is +still in advisement. The better Romans say the protestants shall not be +excused; and all the adverse factions join with them. The city rings with the +scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +“What says Simonides?” asked Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“The master laughs, and is well pleased. If the Roman pays, he is ruined; +if he refuses to pay, he is dishonored. The imperial policy will decide the +matter. To offend the East would be a bad beginning with the Parthians; to +offend Sheik Ilderim would be to antagonize the Desert, over which lie all +Maxentius’s lines of operation. Wherefore Simonides bade me tell you to +have no disquiet; Messala will pay.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim was at once restored to his good-humor. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us be off now,” he said, rubbing his hands. “The +business will do well with Simonides. The glory is ours. I will order the +horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay,” said Malluch. “I left a messenger outside. Will you +see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the splendor of God! I forgot him.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch retired, and was succeeded by a lad of gentle manners and delicate +appearance, who knelt upon one knee, and said, winningly, “Iras, the +daughter of Balthasar, well known to good Sheik Ilderim, hath intrusted me with +a message to the sheik, who, she saith, will do her great favor so he receive +her congratulations on account of the victory of his four.” +</p> + +<p> +“The daughter of my friend is kind,” said Ilderim, with sparkling +eyes. “Do thou give her this jewel, in sign of the pleasure I have from +her message.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a ring from his finger as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I will as thou sayest, O sheik,” the lad replied, and continued, +“The daughter of the Egyptian charged me further. She prays the good +Sheik Ilderim to send word to the youth Ben-Hur that her father hath taken +residence for a time in the palace of Idernee, where she will receive the youth +after the fourth hour to-morrow. And if, with her congratulations, Sheik +Ilderim will accept her gratitude for this other favor done, she will be ever +so pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +The sheik looked at Ben-Hur, whose face was suffused with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“By your leave, O sheik, I will see the fair Egyptian.” +</p> + +<p> +Ilderim laughed, and said, “Shall not a man enjoy his youth?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Ben-Hur answered the messenger. +</p> + +<p> +“Say to her who sent you that I, Ben-Hur, will see her at the palace of +Idernee, wherever that may be, to-morrow at noon.” +</p> + +<p> +The lad arose, and, with silent salute, departed. +</p> + +<p> +At midnight Ilderim took the road, having arranged to leave a horse and a guide +for Ben-Hur, who was to follow him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap60"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p> +Going next day to fill his appointment with Iras, Ben-Hur turned from the +Omphalus, which was in the heart of the city, into the Colonnade of Herod, and +came shortly to the palace of Idernee. +</p> + +<p> +From the street he passed first into a vestibule, on the sides of which were +stairways under cover, leading up to a portico. Winged lions sat by the stairs; +in the middle there was a gigantic ibis spouting water over the floor; the +lions, ibis, walls, and floor were reminders of the Egyptians: everything, even +the balustrading of the stairs, was of massive gray stone. +</p> + +<p> +Above the vestibule, and covering the landing of the steps, arose the portico, +a pillared grace, so light, so exquisitely proportioned, it was at that period +hardly possible of conception except by a Greek. Of marble snowy white, its +effect was that of a lily dropped carelessly upon a great bare rock. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur paused in the shade of the portico to admire its tracery and finish, +and the purity of its marble; then he passed on into the palace. Ample +folding-doors stood open to receive him. The passage into which he first +entered was high, but somewhat narrow; red tiling formed the floor, and the +walls were tinted to correspond. Yet this plainness was a warning of something +beautiful to come. +</p> + +<p> +He moved on slowly, all his faculties in repose. Presently he would be in the +presence of Iras; she was waiting for him; waiting with song and story and +badinage, sparkling, fanciful, capricious—with smiles which glorified her +glance, and glances which lent voluptuous suggestion to her whisper. She had +sent for him the evening of the boat-ride on the lake in the Orchard of Palms; +she had sent for him now; and he was going to her in the beautiful palace of +Idernee. He was happy and dreamful rather than thoughtless. +</p> + +<p> +The passage brought him to a closed door, in front of which he paused; and, as +he did so, the broad leaves began to open of themselves, without creak or sound +of lock or latch, or touch of foot or finger. The singularity was lost in the +view that broke upon him. +</p> + +<p> +Standing in the shade of the dull passage, and looking through the doorway, he +beheld the atrium of a Roman house, roomy and rich to a fabulous degree of +magnificence. +</p> + +<p> +How large the chamber was cannot be stated, because of the deceit there is in +exact proportions; its depth was vista-like, something never to be said of an +equal interior. When he stopped to make survey, and looked down upon the floor, +he was standing upon the breast of a Leda, represented as caressing a swan; +and, looking farther, he saw the whole floor was similarly laid in mosaic +pictures of mythological subjects. And there were stools and chairs, each a +separate design, and a work of art exquisitely composed, and tables much +carven, and here and there couches which were invitations of themselves. The +articles of furniture, which stood out from the walls, were duplicated on the +floor distinctly as if they floated unrippled water; even the panelling of the +walls, the figures upon them in painting and bas-relief, and the fresco of the +ceiling were reflected on the floor. The ceiling curved up towards the centre, +where there was an opening through which the sunlight poured without hindrance, +and the sky, ever so blue, seemed in hand-reach; the impluvium under the +opening was guarded by bronzed rails; the gilded pillars supporting the roof at +the edges of the opening shone like flame where the sun struck them, and their +reflections beneath seemed to stretch to infinite depth. And there were +candelabra quaint and curious, and statuary and vases; the whole making an +interior that would have befitted well the house on the Palatine Hill which +Cicero bought of Crassus, or that other, yet more famous for extravagance, the +Tusculan villa of Scaurus. +</p> + +<p> +Still in his dreamful mood, Ben-Hur sauntered about, charmed by all he beheld, +and waiting. He did not mind a little delay; when Iras was ready, she would +come or send a servant. In every well-regulated Roman house the atrium was the +reception chamber for visitors. +</p> + +<p> +Twice, thrice, he made the round. As often he stood under the opening in the +roof, and pondered the sky and its azure depth; then, leaning against a pillar, +he studied the distribution of light and shade, and its effects; here a veil +diminishing objects, there a brilliance exaggerating others; yet nobody came. +Time, or rather the passage of time, began at length to impress itself upon +him, and he wondered why Iras stayed so long. Again he traced out the figures +upon the floor, but not with the satisfaction the first inspection gave him. He +paused often to listen: directly impatience blew a little fevered breath upon +his spirit; next time it blew stronger and hotter; and at last he woke to a +consciousness of the silence which held the house in thrall, and the thought of +it made him uneasy and distrustful. Still he put the feeling off with a smile +and a promise. “Oh, she is giving the last touch to her eyelids, or she +is arranging a chaplet for me; she will come presently, more beautiful of the +delay!” He sat down then to admire a candelabrum—a bronze plinth on +rollers, filigree on the sides and edges; the post at one end, and on the end +opposite it an altar and a female celebrant; the lamp-rests swinging by +delicate chains from the extremities of drooping palm-branches; altogether a +wonder in its way. But the silence would obtrude itself: he listened even as he +looked at the pretty object—he listened, but there was not a sound; the +palace was still as a tomb. +</p> + +<p> +There might be a mistake. No, the messenger had come from the Egyptian, and +this was the palace of Idernee. Then he remembered how mysteriously the door +had opened so soundlessly, so of itself. He would see! +</p> + +<p> +He went to the same door. Though he walked ever so lightly the sound of his +stepping was loud and harsh, and he shrank from it. He was getting nervous. The +cumbrous Roman lock resisted his first effort to raise it; and the +second—the blood chilled in his cheeks—he wrenched with all his +might: in vain—the door was not even shaken. A sense of danger seized +him, and for a moment he stood irresolute. +</p> + +<p> +Who in Antioch had the motive to do him harm? +</p> + +<p> +Messala! +</p> + +<p> +And this palace of Idernee? He had seen Egypt in the vestibule, Athens in the +snowy portico; but here, in the atrium, was Rome; everything about him betrayed +Roman ownership. True, the site was on the great thoroughfare of the city, a +very public place in which to do him violence; but for that reason it was more +accordant with the audacious genius of his enemy. The atrium underwent a +change; with all its elegance and beauty, it was no more than a trap. +Apprehension always paints in black. +</p> + +<p> +The idea irritated Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +There were many doors on the right and left of the atrium, leading, doubtless, +to sleeping-chambers; he tried them, but they were all firmly fastened. +Knocking might bring response. Ashamed to make outcry, he betook himself to a +couch, and, lying down, tried to reflect. +</p> + +<p> +All too plainly he was a prisoner; but for what purpose? and by whom? +</p> + +<p> +If the work were Messala’s! He sat up, looked about, and smiled +defiantly. There were weapons in every table. But birds had been starved in +golden cages; not so would he—the couches would serve him as +battering-rams; and he was strong, and there was such increase of might in rage +and despair! +</p> + +<p> +Messala himself could not come. He would never walk again; he was a cripple +like Simonides; still he could move others. And where were there not others to +be moved by him? Ben-Hur arose, and tried the doors again. Once he called out; +the room echoed so that he was startled. With such calmness as he could assume, +he made up his mind to wait a time before attempting to break a way out. +</p> + +<p> +In such a situation the mind has its ebb and flow of disquiet, with intervals +of peace between. At length—how long, though, he could not have +said—he came to the conclusion that the affair was an accident or +mistake. The palace certainly belonged to somebody; it must have care and +keeping: and the keeper would come; the evening or the night would bring him. +Patience! +</p> + +<p> +So concluding, he waited. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour passed—a much longer period to Ben-Hur—when the door +which had admitted him opened and closed noiselessly as before, and without +attracting his attention. +</p> + +<p> +The moment of the occurrence he was sitting at the farther end of the room. A +footstep startled him. +</p> + +<p> +“At last she has come!” he thought, with a throb of relief and +pleasure, and arose. +</p> + +<p> +The step was heavy, and accompanied with the gride and clang of coarse sandals. +The gilded pillars were between him and the door; he advanced quietly, and +leaned against one of them. Presently he heard voices—the voices of +men—one of them rough and guttural. What was said he could not +understand, as the language was not of the East or South of Europe. +</p> + +<p> +After a general survey of the room, the strangers crossed to their left, and +were brought into Ben-Hur’s view—two men, one very stout, both +tall, and both in short tunics. They had not the air of masters of the house or +domestics. Everything they saw appeared wonderful to them; everything they +stopped to examine they touched. They were vulgarians. The atrium seemed +profaned by their presence. At the same time, their leisurely manner and the +assurance with which they proceeded pointed to some right or business; if +business, with whom? +</p> + +<p> +With much jargon they sauntered this way and that, all the time gradually +approaching the pillar by which Ben-Hur was standing. Off a little way, where a +slanted gleam of the sun fell with a glare upon the mosaic of the floor, there +was a statue which attracted their notice. In examining it, they stopped in the +light. +</p> + +<p> +The mystery surrounding his own presence in the palace tended, as we have seen, +to make Ben-Hur nervous; so now, when in the tall stout stranger he recognized +the Northman whom he had known in Rome, and seen crowned only the day before in +the Circus as the winning pugilist; when he saw the man’s face, scarred +with the wounds of many battles, and imbruted by ferocious passions; when he +surveyed the fellow’s naked limbs, very marvels of exercise and training, +and his shoulders of Herculean breadth, a thought of personal danger started a +chill along every vein. A sure instinct warned him that the opportunity for +murder was too perfect to have come by chance; and here now were the myrmidons, +and their business was with him. He turned an anxious eye upon the +Northman’s comrade—young, black-eyed, black-haired, and altogether +Jewish in appearance; he observed, also, that both the men were in costume +exactly such as professionals of their class were in the habit of wearing in +the arena. Putting the several circumstances together, Ben-Hur could not be +longer in doubt: he had been lured into the palace with design. Out of reach of +aid, in this splendid privacy, he was to die! +</p> + +<p> +At a loss what to do, he gazed from man to man, while there was enacted within +him that miracle of mind by which life is passed before us in awful detail, to +be looked at by ourselves as if it were another’s; and from the +evolvement, from a hidden depth, cast up, as it were, by a hidden hand, he was +given to see that he had entered upon a new life, different from the old one in +this: whereas, in that, he had been the victim of violences done to him, +henceforth he was to be the aggressor. Only yesterday he had found his first +victim! To the purely Christian nature the presentation would have brought the +weakness of remorse. Not so with Ben-Hur; his spirit had its emotions from the +teachings of the first lawgiver, not the last and greatest one. He had dealt +punishment, not wrong, to Messala. By permission of the Lord, he had triumphed; +and he derived faith from the circumstance—faith the source of all +rational strength, especially strength in peril. +</p> + +<p> +Nor did the influence stop there. The new life was made appear to him a mission +just begun, and holy as the King to come was holy, and certain as the coming of +the King was certain—a mission in which force was lawful if only because +it was unavoidable. Should he, on the very threshold of such an errand, be +afraid? +</p> + +<p> +He undid the sash around his waist, and, baring his head and casting off his +white Jewish gown, stood forth in an undertunic not unlike those of the enemy, +and was ready, body and mind. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the +pillar, and calmly waited. +</p> + +<p> +The examination of the statue was brief. Directly the Northman turned, and said +something in the unknown tongue; then both looked at Ben-Hur. A few more words, +and they advanced towards him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he asked, in Latin. +</p> + +<p> +The Northman fetched a smile which did not relieve his face of its brutalism, +and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“Barbarians.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the palace of Idernee. Whom seek you? Stand and answer.” +</p> + +<p> +The words were spoken with earnestness. The strangers stopped; and in his turn +the Northman asked, “Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“A Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +The giant laid his head back upon his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha! I have heard how a god once came from a cow licking a salted +stone; but not even a god can make a Roman of a Jew.” +</p> + +<p> +The laugh over, he spoke to his companion again, and they moved nearer. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold!” said Ben-Hur, quitting the pillar. “One word.” +</p> + +<p> +They stopped again. +</p> + +<p> +“A word!” replied the Saxon, folding his immense arms across his +breast, and relaxing the menace beginning to blacken his face. “A word! +Speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are Thord the Northman.” +</p> + +<p> +The giant opened his blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You were lanista in Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +Thord nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I was your scholar.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Thord, shaking his head. “By the beard of Irmin, I +had never a Jew to make a fighting-man of.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I will prove my saying.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“You came here to kill me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let this man fight me singly, and I will make the proof on his +body.” +</p> + +<p> +A gleam of humor shone in the Northman’s face. He spoke to his companion, +who made answer; then he replied with the naivete of a diverted child, +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till I say begin.” +</p> + +<p> +By repeated touches of his foot, he pushed a couch out on the floor, and +proceeded leisurely to stretch his burly form upon it; when perfectly at ease, +he said, simply, “Now begin.” +</p> + +<p> +Without ado, Ben-Hur walked to his antagonist. +</p> + +<p> +“Defend thyself,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The man, nothing loath, put up his hands. +</p> + +<p> +As the two thus confronted each other in approved position, there was no +discernible inequality between them; on the contrary, they were as like as +brothers. To the stranger’s confident smile, Ben-Hur opposed an +earnestness which, had his skill been known, would have been accepted fair +warning of danger. Both knew the combat was to be mortal. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur feinted with his right hand. The stranger warded, slightly advancing +his left arm. Ere he could return to guard, Ben-Hur caught him by the wrist in +a grip which years at the oar had made terrible as a vise. The surprise was +complete, and no time given. To throw himself forward; to push the arm across +the man’s throat and over his right shoulder, and turn him left side +front; to strike surely with the ready left hand; to strike the bare neck under +the ear—were but petty divisions of the same act. No need of a second +blow. The myrmidon fell heavily, and without a cry, and lay still. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur turned to Thord. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! What! By the beard of Irmin!” the latter cried, in +astonishment, rising to a sitting posture. Then he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha! I could not have done it better myself.” +</p> + +<p> +He viewed Ben-Hur coolly from head to foot, and, rising, faced him with +undisguised admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“It was my trick—the trick I have practised for ten years in the +schools of Rome. You are not a Jew. Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew Arrius the duumvir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quintus Arrius? Yes, he was my patron.” +</p> + +<p> +“He had a son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Thord, his battered features lighting dully, “I +knew the boy; he would have made a king gladiator. Cæsar offered him his +patronage. I taught him the very trick you played on this one here—a +trick impossible except to a hand and arm like mine. It has won me many a +crown.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am that son of Arrius.” +</p> + +<p> +Thord drew nearer, and viewed him carefully; then his eyes brightened with +genuine pleasure, and, laughing, he held out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha! He told me I would find a Jew here—a Jew—a dog +of a Jew—killing whom was serving the gods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you so?” asked Ben-Hur, taking the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“He—Messala—ha, ha, ha!” +</p> + +<p> +“When, Thord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought he was hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will never walk again. On his bed he told me between groans.” +</p> + +<p> +A very vivid portrayal of hate in a few words; and Ben-Hur saw that the Roman, +if he lived, would still be capable and dangerous, and follow him +unrelentingly. Revenge remained to sweeten the ruined life; therefore the +clinging to fortune lost in the wager with Sanballat. Ben-Hur ran the ground +over, with a distinct foresight of the many ways in which it would be possible +for his enemy to interfere with him in the work he had undertaken for the King +who was coming. Why not he resort to the Roman’s methods? The man hired +to kill him could be hired to strike back. It was in his power to offer higher +wages. The temptation was strong; and, half yielding, he chanced to look down +at his late antagonist lying still, with white upturned face, so like himself. +A light came to him, and he asked, “Thord, what was Messala to give you +for killing me?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand sestertii.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have them yet; and so you do now what I tell you, I will add +three thousand more to the sum.” +</p> + +<p> +The giant reflected aloud, +</p> + +<p> +“I won five thousand yesterday; from the Roman one—six. Give me +four, good Arrius—four more—and I will stand firm for you, though +old Thor, my namesake, strike me with his hammer. Make it four, and I will kill +the lying patrician, if you say so. I have only to cover his mouth with my +hand—thus.” +</p> + +<p> +He illustrated the process by clapping his hand over his own mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Ben-Hur; “ten thousand sestertii is a fortune. +It will enable you to return to Rome, and open a wine-shop near the Great +Circus, and live as becomes the first of the lanistae.” +</p> + +<p> +The very scars on the giant’s face glowed afresh with the pleasure the +picture gave him. +</p> + +<p> +“I will make it four thousand,” Ben-Hur continued; “and in +what you shall do for the money there will be no blood on your hands, Thord. +Hear me now. Did not your friend here look like me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would have said he was an apple from the same tree.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if I put on his tunic, and dress him in these clothes of mine, and +you and I go away together, leaving him here, can you not get your sestertii +from Messala all the same? You have only to make him believe it me that is +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Thord laughed till the tears ran into his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha, ha! Ten thousand sestertii were never won so easily. And a +wine-shop by the Great Circus!—all for a lie without blood in it! Ha, ha, +ha! Give me thy hand, O son of Arrius. Get on now, and—ha, ha, +ha!—if ever you come to Rome, fail not to ask for the wine-shop of Thord +the Northman. By the beard of Irmin, I will give you the best, though I borrow +it from Cæsar!” +</p> + +<p> +They shook hands again; after which the exchange of clothes was effected. It +was arranged then that a messenger should go at night to Thord’s +lodging-place with the four thousand sestertii. When they were done, the giant +knocked at the front door; it opened to him; and, passing out of the atrium, he +led Ben-Hur into a room adjoining, where the latter completed his attire from +the coarse garments of the dead pugilist. They separated directly in the +Omphalus. +</p> + +<p> +“Fail not, O son of Arrius, fail not the wine-shop near the Great Circus! +Ha, ha, ha! By the beard of Irmin, there was never fortune gained so cheap. The +gods keep you!” +</p> + +<p> +Upon leaving the atrium, Ben-Hur gave a last look at the myrmidon as he lay in +the Jewish vestments, and was satisfied. The likeness was striking. If Thord +kept faith, the cheat was a secret to endure forever. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +At night, in the house of Simonides, Ben-Hur told the good man all that had +taken place in the palace of Idernee; and it was agreed that, after a few days, +public inquiry should be set afloat for the discovery of the whereabouts of the +son of Arrius. Eventually the matter was to be carried boldly to Maxentius; +then, if the mystery came not out, it was concluded that Messala and Gratus +would be at rest and happy, and Ben-Hur free to betake himself to Jerusalem, to +make search for his lost people. +</p> + +<p> +At the leave-taking, Simonides sat in his chair out on the terrace overlooking +the river, and gave his farewell and the peace of the Lord with the impressment +of a father. Esther went with the young man to the head of the steps. +</p> + +<p> +“If I find my mother, Esther, thou shalt go to her at Jerusalem, and be a +sister to Tirzah.” +</p> + +<p> +And with the words he kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +Was it only a kiss of peace? +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the river next to the late quarters of Ilderim, where he found the +Arab who was to serve him as guide. The horses were brought out. +</p> + +<p> +“This one is thine,” said the Arab. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked, and, lo! it was Aldebaran, the swiftest and brightest of the +sons of Mira, and, next to Sirius, the beloved of the sheik; and he knew the +old man’s heart came to him along with the gift. +</p> + +<p> +The corpse in the atrium was taken up and buried by night; and, as part of +Messala’s plan, a courier was sent off to Gratus to make him at rest by +the announcement of Ben-Hur’s death—this time past question. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long a wine-shop was opened near the Circus Maximus, with inscription over +the door: +</p> + +<h4>THORD THE NORTHMAN.</h4> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book06"></a>BOOK SIXTH</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Is that a Death? and are there two?<br> +Is Death that woman’s mate?<br> +<br> +Her skin was as white as leprosy,<br> +The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,<br> +Who thicks man’s blood with cold.”<br> +<br> +COLERIDGE. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap61"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +Our story moves forward now thirty days from the night Ben-Hur left Antioch to +go out with Sheik Ilderim into the desert. +</p> + +<p> +A great change has befallen—great at least as respects the fortunes of +our hero. <i>Valerius Gratus has been succeeded by Pontius Pilate!</i> +</p> + +<p> +The removal, it may be remarked, cost Simonides exactly five talents Roman +money in hand paid to Sejanus, who was then in height of power as imperial +favorite; the object being to help Ben-Hur, by lessening his exposure while in +and about Jerusalem attempting discovery of his people. To such pious use the +faithful servant put the winnings from Drusus and his associates; all of whom, +having paid their wagers, became at once and naturally the enemies of Messala, +whose repudiation was yet an unsettled question in Rome. +</p> + +<p> +Brief as the time was, already the Jews knew the change of rulers was not for +the better. +</p> + +<p> +The cohorts sent to relieve the garrison of Antonia made their entry into the +city by night; next morning the first sight that greeted the people resident in +the neighborhood was the walls of the old Tower decorated with military +ensigns, which unfortunately consisted of busts of the emperor mixed with +eagles and globes. A multitude, in passion, marched to Cæsarea, where Pilate +was lingering, and implored him to remove the detested images. Five days and +nights they beset his palace gates; at last he appointed a meeting with them in +the Circus. When they were assembled, he encircled them with soldiers; instead +of resisting, they offered him their lives, and conquered. He recalled the +images and ensigns to Cæsarea, where Gratus, with more consideration, had kept +such abominations housed during the eleven years of his reign. +</p> + +<p> +The worst of men do once in a while vary their wickednesses by good acts; so +with Pilate. He ordered an inspection of all the prisons in Judea, and a return +of the names of the persons in custody, with a statement of the crimes for +which they had been committed. Doubtless, the motive was the one so common with +officials just installed—dread of entailed responsibility; the people, +however, in thought of the good which might come of the measure, gave him +credit, and, for a period, were comforted. The revelations were astonishing. +Hundreds of persons were released against whom there were no accusations; many +others came to light who had long been accounted dead; yet more amazing, there +was opening of dungeons not merely unknown at the time by the people, but +actually forgotten by the prison authorities. With one instance of the latter +kind we have now to deal; and, strange to say, it occurred in Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +The Tower of Antonia, which will be remembered as occupying two thirds of the +sacred area on Mount Moriah, was originally a castle built by the Macedonians. +Afterwards, John Hyrcanus erected the castle into a fortress for the defence of +the Temple, and in his day it was considered impregnable to assault; but when +Herod came with his bolder genius, he strengthened its walls and extended them, +leaving a vast pile which included every appurtenance necessary for the +stronghold he intended it to be forever; such as offices, barracks, armories, +magazines, cisterns, and last, though not least, prisons of all grades. He +levelled the solid rock, and tapped it with deep excavations, and built over +them; connecting the whole great mass with the Temple by a beautiful colonnade, +from the roof of which one could look down over the courts of the sacred +structure. In such condition the Tower fell at last out of his hands into those +of the Romans, who were quick to see its strength and advantages, and convert +it to uses becoming such masters. All through the administration of Gratus it +had been a garrisoned citadel and underground prison terrible to +revolutionists. Woe when the cohorts poured from its gates to suppress +disorder! Woe not less when a Jew passed the same gates going in under arrest! +</p> + +<p> +With this explanation, we hasten to our story. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +The order of the new procurator requiring a report of the persons in custody +was received at the Tower of Antonia, and promptly executed; and two days have +gone since the last unfortunate was brought up for examination. The tabulated +statement, ready for forwarding, lies on the table of the tribune in command; +in five minutes more it will be on the way to Pilate, sojourning in the palace +up on Mount Zion. +</p> + +<p> +The tribune’s office is spacious and cool, and furnished in a style +suitable to the dignity of the commandant of a post in every respect so +important. Looking in upon him about the seventh hour of the day, the officer +appears weary and impatient; when the report is despatched, he will to the roof +of the colonnade for air and exercise, and the amusement to be had watching the +Jews over in the courts of the Temple. His subordinates and clerks share his +impatience. +</p> + +<p> +In the spell of waiting a man appeared in a doorway leading to an adjoining +apartment. He rattled a bunch of keys, each heavy as a hammer, and at once +attracted the chief’s attention. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Gesius! come in,” the tribune said. +</p> + +<p> +As the new-comer approached the table behind which the chief sat in an +easy-chair, everybody present looked at him, and, observing a certain +expression of alarm and mortification on his face, became silent that they +might hear what he had to say. +</p> + +<p> +“O tribune!” he began, bending low, “I fear to tell what now +I bring you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another mistake—ha, Gesius?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I could persuade myself it is but a mistake, I would not be +afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“A crime then—or, worse, a breach of duty. Thou mayst laugh at +Cæsar, or curse the gods, and live; but if the offence be to the +eagles—ah, thou knowest, Gesius—go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is now about eight years since Valerius Gratus selected me to be +keeper of prisoners here in the Tower,” said the man, deliberately. +“I remember the morning I entered upon the duties of my office. There had +been a riot the day before, and fighting in the streets. We slew many Jews, and +suffered on our side. The affair came, it was said, of an attempt to +assassinate Gratus, who had been knocked from his horse by a tile thrown from a +roof. I found him sitting where you now sit, O tribune, his head swathed in +bandages. He told me of my selection, and gave me these keys, numbered to +correspond with the numbers of the cells; they were the badges of my office, he +said, and not to be parted with. There was a roll of parchment on the table. +Calling me to him, he opened the roll. ‘Here are maps of the +cells,’ said he. There were three of them. ‘This one,’ he +went on, ‘shows the arrangement of the upper floor; this second one gives +you the second floor; and this last is of the lower floor. I give them to you +in trust.’ I took them from his hand, and he said, further, ‘Now +you have the keys and the maps; go immediately, and acquaint yourself with the +whole arrangement; visit each cell, and see to its condition. When anything is +needed for the security of a prisoner, order it according to your judgment, for +you are the master under me, and no other.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I saluted him, and turned to go away; he called me back. ‘Ah, I +forgot,’ he said. ‘Give me the map of the third floor.’ I +gave it to him, and he spread it upon the table. ‘Here, Gesius,’ he +said, ‘see this cell.’ He laid his finger on the one numbered V. +‘There are three men confined in that cell, desperate characters, who by +some means got hold of a state secret, and suffer for their curiosity, +which’—he looked at me severely—‘in such matters is +worse than a crime. Accordingly, they are blind and tongueless, and are placed +there for life. They shall have nothing but food and drink, to be given them +through a hole, which you will find in the wall covered by a slide. Do you +hear, Gesius?’ I made him answer. ‘It is well,’ he continued. +‘One thing more which you shall not forget, or’—he looked at +me threateningly—‘The door of their cell—cell number V. on +the same floor—this one, Gesius’—he put his finger on the +particular cell to impress my memory—‘shall never be opened for any +purpose, neither to let one in nor out, not even yourself.’ ‘But if +they die?’ I asked. ‘If they die,’ he said, ‘the cell +shall be their tomb. They were put there to die, and be lost. The cell is +leprous. Do you understand?’ With that he let me go.” +</p> + +<p> +Gesius stopped, and from the breast of his tunic drew three parchments, all +much yellowed by time and use; selecting one of them, he spread it upon the +table before the tribune, saying, simply, “This is the lower +floor.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole company looked at +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE MAP +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img01.jpg" width="500" height="122" alt="[map]"> +</div> + +<p> +“This is exactly, O tribune, as I had it from Gratus. See, there is cell +number V.,” said Gesius. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” the tribune replied. “Go on now. The cell was +leprous, he said.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would like to ask you a question,” remarked the keeper, +modestly. +</p> + +<p> +The tribune assented. +</p> + +<p> +“Had I not a right, under the circumstances, to believe the map a true +one?” +</p> + +<p> +“What else couldst thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is not a true one.” +</p> + +<p> +The chief looked up surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a true one,” the keeper repeated. “It shows but +five cells upon that floor, while there are six.” +</p> + +<p> +“Six, sayest thou?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will show you the floor as it is—or as I believe it to +be.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon a page of his tablets, Gesius drew the following diagram, and gave it to +the tribune: +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/img02.jpg" width="500" height="185" alt="[map]"> +</div> + + +<p> +“Thou hast done well,” said the tribune, examining the drawing, and +thinking the narrative at an end. “I will have the map corrected, or, +better, I will have a new one made, and given thee. Come for it in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he arose. +</p> + +<p> +“But hear me further, O tribune.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow, Gesius, to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That which I have yet to tell will not wait.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune good-naturedly resumed his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I will hurry,” said the keeper, humbly, “only let me ask +another question. Had I not a right to believe Gratus in what he further told +me as to the prisoners in cell number V.?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was thy duty to believe there were three prisoners in the +cell—prisoners of state—blind and without tongues.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the keeper, “that was not true either.” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” said the tribune, with returning interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear, and judge for yourself, O tribune. As required, I visited all the +cells, beginning with those on the first floor, and ending with those on the +lower. The order that the door of number V. should not be opened had been +respected; through all the eight years food and drink for three men had been +passed through a hole in the wall. I went to the door yesterday, curious to see +the wretches who, against all expectation, had lived so long. The locks refused +the key. We pulled a little, and the door fell down, rusted from its hinges. +Going in, I found but one man, old, blind, tongueless, and naked. His hair +dropped in stiffened mats below his waist. His skin was like the parchment +there. He held his hands out, and the finger-nails curled and twisted like the +claws of a bird. I asked him where his companions were. He shook his head in +denial. Thinking to find the others, we searched the cell. The floor was dry; +so were the walls. If three men had been shut in there, and two of them had +died, at least their bones would have endured.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wherefore thou thinkest—” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, O tribune, there has been but one prisoner there in the eight +years.” +</p> + +<p> +The chief regarded the keeper sharply, and said, “Have a care; thou art +more than saying Valerius lied.” +</p> + +<p> +Gesius bowed, but said, “He might have been mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he was right,” said the tribune, warmly. “By thine own +statement he was right. Didst thou not say but now that for eight years food +and drink had been furnished three men?” +</p> + +<p> +The bystanders approved the shrewdness of their chief; yet Gesius did not seem +discomfited. +</p> + +<p> +“You have but half the story, O tribune. When you have it all, you will +agree with me. You know what I did with the man: that I sent him to the bath, +and had him shorn and clothed, and then took him to the gate of the Tower, and +bade him go free. I washed my hands of him. To-day he came back, and was +brought to me. By signs and tears he at last made me understand he wished to +return to his cell, and I so ordered. As they were leading him off, he broke +away and kissed my feet, and, by piteous dumb imploration, insisted I should go +with him; and I went. The mystery of the three men stayed in my mind. I was not +satisfied about it. Now I am glad I yielded to his entreaty.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole company at this point became very still. +</p> + +<p> +“When we were in the cell again, and the prisoner knew it, he caught my +hand eagerly, and led me to a hole like that through which we were accustomed +to pass him his food. Though large enough to push your helmet through, it +escaped me yesterday. Still holding my hand, he put his face to the hole and +gave a beast-like cry. A sound came faintly back. I was astonished, and drew +him away, and called out, ‘Ho, here!’ At first there was no answer. +I called again, and received back these words, ‘Be thou praised, O +Lord!’ Yet more astonishing, O tribune, the voice was a woman’s. +And I asked, ‘Who are you?’ and had reply, ‘A woman of +Israel, entombed here with her daughter. Help us quickly, or we die.’ I +told them to be of cheer, and hurried here to know your will.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune arose hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou wert right, Gesius,” he said, “and I see now. The map +was a lie, and so was the tale of the three men. There have been better Romans +than Valerius Gratus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the keeper. “I gleaned from the prisoner that he +had regularly given the women of the food and drink he had received.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is accounted for,” replied the tribune, and observing the +countenances of his friends, and reflecting how well it would be to have +witnesses, he added, “Let us rescue the women. Come all.” +</p> + +<p> +Gesuis was pleased. +</p> + +<p> +“We will have to pierce the wall,” he said. “I found where a +door had been, but it was filled solidly with stones and mortar.” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune stayed to say to a clerk, “Send workmen after me with tools. +Make haste; but hold the report, for I see it will have to be corrected.” +</p> + +<p> +In a short time they were gone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap62"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +“A woman of Israel, entombed here with her daughter. Help us quickly, or +we die.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the reply Gesius, the keeper, had from the cell which appears on his +amended map as VI. The reader, when he observed the answer, knew who the +unfortunates were, and, doubtless, said to himself, “At last the mother +of Ben-Hur, and Tirzah, his sister!” +</p> + +<p> +And so it was. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of their seizure, eight years before, they had been carried to the +Tower, where Gratus proposed to put them out of the way. He had chosen the +Tower for the purpose as more immediately in his own keeping, and cell VI. +because, first, it could be better lost than any other; and, secondly, it was +infected with leprosy; for these prisoners were not merely to be put in a safe +place, but in a place to die. They were, accordingly, taken down by slaves in +the night-time, when there were no witnesses of the deed; then, in completion +of the savage task, the same slaves walled up the door, after which they were +themselves separated, and sent away never to be heard of more. To save +accusation, and, in the event of discovery, to leave himself such justification +as might be allowed in a distinction between the infliction of a punishment and +the commission of a double murder, Gratus preferred sinking his victims where +natural death was certain, though slow. That they might linger along, he +selected a convict who had been made blind and tongueless, and sank him in the +only connecting cell, there to serve them with food and drink. Under no +circumstances could the poor wretch tell the tale or identify either the +prisoners or their doomsman. So, with a cunning partly due to Messala, the +Roman, under color of punishing a brood of assassins, smoothed a path to +confiscation of the estate of the Hurs, of which no portion ever reached the +imperial coffers. +</p> + +<p> +As the last step in the scheme, Gratus summarily removed the old keeper of the +prisons; not because he knew what had been done—for he did not—but +because, knowing the underground floors as he did, it would be next to +impossible to keep the transaction from him. Then, with masterly ingenuity, the +procurator had new maps drawn for delivery to a new keeper, with the omission, +as we have seen, of cell VI. The instructions given the latter, taken with the +omission on the map, accomplished the design—the cell and its unhappy +tenants were all alike lost. +</p> + +<p> +What may be thought of the life of the mother and daughter during the eight +years must have relation to their culture and previous habits. Conditions are +pleasant or grievous to us according to our sensibilities. It is not extreme to +say, if there was a sudden exit of all men from the world, heaven, as +prefigured in the Christian idea, would not be a heaven to the majority; on the +other hand, neither would all suffer equally in the so-called Tophet. +Cultivation has its balances. As the mind is made intelligent, the capacity of +the soul for pure enjoyment is proportionally increased. Well, therefore, if it +be saved! If lost, however, alas that it ever had cultivation! its capacity for +enjoyment in the one case is the measure of its capacity to suffer in the +other. Wherefore repentance must be something more than mere remorse for sins; +it comprehends a change of nature befitting heaven. +</p> + +<p> +We repeat, to form an adequate idea of the suffering endured by the mother of +Ben-Hur, the reader must think of her spirit and its sensibilities as much as, +if not more than, of the conditions of the immurement; the question being, not +what the conditions were, but how she was affected by them. And now we may be +permitted to say it was in anticipation of this thought that the scene in the +summer-house on the roof of the family palace was given so fully in the +beginning of the Second Book of our story. So, too, to be helpful when the +inquiry should come up, we ventured the elaborate description of the palace of +the Hurs. +</p> + +<p> +In other words, let the serene, happy, luxurious life in the princely house be +recalled and contrasted with this existence in the lower dungeon of the Tower +of Antonia; then if the reader, in his effort to realize the misery of the +woman, persists in mere reference to conditions physical, he cannot go amiss; +as he is a lover of his kind, tender of heart, he will be melted with much +sympathy. But will he go further; will he more than sympathize with her; will +he share her agony of mind and spirit; will he at least try to measure +it—let him recall her as she discoursed to her son of God and nations and +heroes; one moment a philosopher, the next a teacher, and all the time a +mother. +</p> + +<p> +Would you hurt a man keenest, strike at his self-love; would you hurt a woman +worst, aim at her affections. +</p> + +<p> +With quickened remembrance of these unfortunates—remembrance of them as +they were—let us go down and see them as they are. +</p> + +<p> +The cell VI. was in form as Gesius drew it on his map. Of its dimensions but +little idea can be had; enough that it was a roomy, roughened interior, with +ledged and broken walls and floor. +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning, the site of the Macedonian Castle was separated from the site +of the Temple by a narrow but deep cliff somewhat in shape of a wedge. The +workmen, wishing to hew out a series of chambers, made their entry in the north +face of the cleft, and worked in, leaving a ceiling of the natural stone; +delving farther, they executed the cells V., IV., III., II., I., with no +connection with number VI. except through number V. In like manner, they +constructed the passage and stairs to the floor above. The process of the work +was precisely that resorted to in carving out the Tombs of the Kings, yet to be +seen a short distance north of Jerusalem; only when the cutting was done, cell +VI. was enclosed on its outer side by a wall of prodigious stones, in which, +for ventilation, narrow apertures were left bevelled like modern port-holes. +Herod, when he took hold of the Temple and Tower, put a facing yet more massive +upon this outer wall, and shut up all the apertures but one, which yet admitted +a little vitalizing air, and a ray of light not nearly strong enough to redeem +the room from darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Such was cell VI. +</p> + +<p> +Startle not now! +</p> + +<p> +The description of the blind and tongueless wretch just liberated from cell V. +may be accepted to break the horror of what is coming. +</p> + +<p> +The two women are grouped close by the aperture; one is seated, the other is +half reclining against her; there is nothing between them and the bare rock. +The light, slanting upwards, strikes them with ghastly effect, and we cannot +avoid seeing they are without vesture or covering. At the same time we are +helped to the knowledge that love is there yet, for the two are in each +other’s arms. Riches take wings, comforts vanish, hope withers away, but +love stays with us. Love is God. +</p> + +<p> +Where the two are thus grouped the stony floor is polished shining smooth. Who +shall say how much of the eight years they have spent in that space there in +front of the aperture, nursing their hope of rescue by that timid yet friendly +ray of light? When the brightness came creeping in, they knew it was dawn; when +it began to fade, they knew the world was hushing for the night, which could +not be anywhere so long and utterly dark as with them. The world! Through that +crevice, as if it were broad and high as a king’s gate, they went to the +world in thought, and passed the weary time going up and down as spirits go, +looking and asking, the one for her son, the other for her brother. On the seas +they sought him, and on the islands of the seas; to-day he was in this city, +to-morrow in that other; and everywhere, and at all times, he was a flitting +sojourner; for, as they lived waiting for him, he lived looking for them. How +often their thoughts passed each other in the endless search, his coming, +theirs going! It was such sweet flattery for them to say to each other, +“While he lives, we shall not be forgotten; as long as he remembers us, +there is hope!” The strength one can eke from little, who knows till he +has been subjected to the trial? +</p> + +<p> +Our recollections of them in former days enjoin us to be respectful; their +sorrows clothe them with sanctity. Without going too near, across the dungeon, +we see they have undergone a change of appearance not to be accounted for by +time or long confinement. The mother was beautiful as a woman, the daughter +beautiful as a child; not even love could say so much now. Their hair is long, +unkempt, and strangely white; they make us shrink and shudder with an +indefinable repulsion, though the effect may be from an illusory glozing of the +light glimmering dismally through the unhealthy murk; or they may be enduring +the tortures of hunger and thirst, not having had to eat or drink since their +servant, the convict, was taken away—that is, since yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah, reclining against her mother in half embrace, moans piteously. +</p> + +<p> +“Be quiet, Tirzah. They will come. God is good. We have been mindful of +him, and forgotten not to pray at every sounding of the trumpets over in the +Temple. The light, you see, is still bright; the sun is standing in the south +sky yet, and it is hardly more than the seventh hour. Somebody will come to us. +Let us have faith. God is good.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus the mother. The words were simple and effective, although, eight years +being now to be added to the thirteen she had attained when last we saw her, +Tirzah was no longer a child. +</p> + +<p> +“I will try and be strong, mother,” she said. “Your suffering +must be as great as mine; and I do so want to live for you and my brother! But +my tongue burns, my lips scorch. I wonder where he is, and if he will ever, +ever find us!” +</p> + +<p> +There is something in the voices that strikes us singularly—an unexpected +tone, sharp, dry, metallic, unnatural. +</p> + +<p> +The mother draws the daughter closer to her breast, and says, “I dreamed +about him last night, and saw him as plainly, Tirzah, as I see you. We must +believe in dreams, you know, because our fathers did. The Lord spoke to them so +often in that way. I thought we were in the Women’s Court just before the +Gate Beautiful; there were many women with us; and he came and stood in the +shade of the Gate, and looked here and there, at this one and that. My heart +beat strong. I knew he was looking for us, and stretched my arms to him, and +ran, calling him. He heard me and saw me, but he did not know me. In a moment +he was gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would it not be so, mother, if we were to meet him in fact? We are so +changed.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be so; but—” The mother’s head droops, and +her face knits as with a wrench of pain; recovering, however, she goes +on—“but we could make ourselves known to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah tossed her arms, and moaned again. +</p> + +<p> +“Water, mother, water, though but a drop.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother stares around in blank helplessness. She has named God so often, and +so often promised in his name, the repetition is beginning to have a mocking +effect upon herself. A shadow passes before her dimming the dim light, and she +is brought down to think of death as very near, waiting to come in as her faith +goes out. Hardly knowing what she does, speaking aimlessly, because speak she +must, she says again, +</p> + +<p> +“Patience, Tirzah; they are coming—they are almost here.” +</p> + +<p> +She thought she heard a sound over by the little trap in the partition-wall +through which they held all their actual communication with the world. And she +was not mistaken. A moment, and the cry of the convict rang through the cell. +Tirzah heard it also; and they both arose, still keeping hold of each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Praised be the Lord forever!” exclaimed the mother, with the +fervor of restored faith and hope. +</p> + +<p> +“Ho, there!” they heard next; and then, “Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +The voice was strange. What matter? Except from Tirzah, they were the first and +only words the mother had heard in eight years. The revulsion was +mighty—from death to life—and so instantly! +</p> + +<p> +“A woman of Israel, entombed here with her daughter. Help us quickly, or +we die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be of cheer. I will return.” +</p> + +<p> +The women sobbed aloud. They were found; help was coming. From wish to wish +hope flew as the twittering swallows fly. They were found; they would be +released. And restoration would follow—restoration to all they had +lost—home, society, property, son and brother! The scanty light glozed +them with the glory of day, and, forgetful of pain and thirst and hunger, and +of the menace of death, they sank upon the floor and cried, keeping fast hold +of each other the while. +</p> + +<p> +And this time they had not long to wait. Gesius, the keeper, told his tale +methodically, but finished it at last. The tribune was prompt. +</p> + +<p> +“Within there!” he shouted through the trap. +</p> + +<p> +“Here!” said the mother, rising. +</p> + +<p> +Directly she heard another sound in another place, as of blows on the +wall—blows quick, ringing, and delivered with iron tools. She did not +speak, nor did Tirzah, but they listened, well knowing the meaning of it +all—that a way to liberty was being made for them. So men a long time +buried in deep mines hear the coming of rescuers, heralded by thrust of bar and +beat of pick, and answer gratefully with heart-throbs, their eyes fixed upon +the spot whence the sounds proceed; and they cannot look away, lest the work +should cease, and they be returned to despair. +</p> + +<p> +The arms outside were strong, the hands skillful, the will good. Each instant +the blows sounded more plainly; now and then a piece fell with a crash; and +liberty came nearer and nearer. Presently the workmen could be heard speaking. +Then—O happiness!—through a crevice flashed a red ray of torches. +Into the darkness it cut incisive as diamond brilliance, beautiful as if from a +spear of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“It is he, mother, it is he! He has found us at last!” cried +Tirzah, with the quickened fancy of youth. +</p> + +<p> +But the mother answered meekly, “God is good!” +</p> + +<p> +A block fell inside, and another—then a great mass, and the door was +open. A man grimed with mortar and stone-dust stepped in, and stopped, holding +a torch over his head. Two or three others followed with torches, and stood +aside for the tribune to enter. +</p> + +<p> +Respect for women is not all a conventionality, for it is the best proof of +their proper nature. The tribune stopped, because they fled from him—not +with fear, be it said, but shame; nor yet, O reader, from shame alone! From the +obscurity of their partial hiding he heard these words, the saddest, most +dreadful, most utterly despairing of the human tongue: +</p> + +<p> +“Come not near us—unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +The men flared their torches while they stared at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Unclean, unclean!” came from the corner again, a slow tremulous +wail exceedingly sorrowful. With such a cry we can imagine a spirit vanishing +from the gates of Paradise, looking back the while. +</p> + +<p> +So the widow and mother performed her duty, and in the moment realized that the +freedom she had prayed for and dreamed of, fruit of scarlet and gold seen afar, +was but an apple of Sodom in the hand. +</p> + +<p> +SHE AND TIRZAH WERE—LEPERS! +</p> + +<p> +Possibly the reader does not know all the word means. Let him be told it with +reference to the Law of that time, only a little modified in this. +</p> + +<p> +“These four are accounted as dead—the blind, the leper, the poor, +and the childless.” Thus the Talmud. +</p> + +<p> +That is, to be a leper was to be treated as dead—to be excluded from the +city as a corpse; to be spoken to by the best beloved and most loving only at a +distance; to dwell with none but lepers; to be utterly unprivileged; to be +denied the rites of the Temple and the synagogue; to go about in rent garments +and with covered mouth, except when crying, “Unclean, unclean!” to +find home in the wilderness or in abandoned tombs; to become a materialized +specter of Hinnom and Gehenna; to be at all times less a living offence to +others than a breathing torment to self; afraid to die, yet without hope except +in death. +</p> + +<p> +Once—she might not tell the day or the year, for down in the haunted hell +even time was lost—once the mother felt a dry scurf in the palm of her +right hand, a trifle which she tried to wash away. It clung to the member +pertinaciously; yet she thought but little of the sign till Tirzah complained +that she, too, was attacked in the same way. The supply of water was scant, and +they denied themselves drink that they might use it as a curative. At length +the whole hand was attacked; the skin cracked open, the fingernails loosened +from the flesh. There was not much pain withal, chiefly a steadily increasing +discomfort. Later their lips began to parch and seam. One day the mother, who +was cleanly to godliness, and struggled against the impurities of the dungeon +with all ingenuity, thinking the enemy was taking hold on Tirzah’s face, +led her to the light, and, looking with the inspiration of a terrible dread, +lo! the young girl’s eyebrows were white as snow. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, the anguish of that assurance! +</p> + +<p> +The mother sat awhile speechless, motionless, paralyzed of soul, and capable of +but one thought—leprosy, leprosy! +</p> + +<p> +When she began to think, mother-like, it was not of herself, but her child, +and, mother-like, her natural tenderness turned to courage, and she made ready +for the last sacrifice of perfect heroism. She buried her knowledge in her +heart; hopeless herself, she redoubled her devotion to Tirzah, and with +wonderful ingenuity—wonderful chiefly in its very +inexhaustibility—continued to keep the daughter ignorant of what they +were beset with, and even hopeful that it was nothing. She repeated her little +games, and retold her stories, and invented new ones, and listened with ever so +much pleasure to the songs she would have from Tirzah, while on her own wasting +lips the psalms of the singing king and their race served to bring soothing of +forgetfulness, and keep alive in them both the recollection of the God who +would seem to have abandoned them—the world not more lightly or utterly. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, steadily, with horrible certainty, the disease spread, after a while +bleaching their heads white, eating holes in their lips and eyelids, and +covering their bodies with scales; then it fell to their throats shrilling +their voices, and to their joints, hardening the tissues and +cartilages—slowly, and, as the mother well knew, past remedy, it was +affecting their lungs and arteries and bones, at each advance making the +sufferers more and more loathsome; and so it would continue till death, which +might be years before them. +</p> + +<p> +Another day of dread at length came—the day the mother, under impulsion +of duty, at last told Tirzah the name of their ailment; and the two, in agony +of despair, prayed that the end might come quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Still, as is the force of habit, these so afflicted grew in time not merely to +speak composedly of their disease; they beheld the hideous transformation of +their persons as of course, and in despite clung to existence. One tie to earth +remained to them; unmindful of their own loneliness, they kept up a certain +spirit by talking and dreaming of Ben-Hur. The mother promised reunion with him +to the sister, and she to the mother, not doubting, either of them, that he was +equally faithful to them, and would be equally happy of the meeting. And with +the spinning and respinning of this slender thread they found pleasure, and +excused their not dying. In such manner as we have seen, they were solacing +themselves the moment Gesius called them, at the end of twelve hours’ +fasting and thirst. +</p> + +<p> +The torches flashed redly through the dungeon, and liberty was come. “God +is good,” the widow cried—not for what had been, O reader, but for +what was. In thankfulness for present mercy, nothing so becomes us as losing +sight of past ills. +</p> + +<p> +The tribune came directly; then in the corner to which she had fled, suddenly a +sense of duty smote the elder of the women, and straightway the awful +warning— +</p> + +<p> +“Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +Ah, the pang the effort to acquit herself of that duty cost the mother! Not all +the selfishness of joy over the prospect could keep her blind to the +consequences of release, now that it was at hand. The old happy life could +never be again. If she went near the house called home, it would be to stop at +the gate and cry, “Unclean, unclean!” She must go about with the +yearnings of love alive in her breast strong as ever, and more sensitive even, +because return in kind could not be. The boy of whom she had so constantly +thought, and with all sweet promises such as mothers find their purest delight +in, must, at meeting her, stand afar off. If he held out his hands to her, and +called “Mother, mother,” for very love of him she must answer, +“Unclean, unclean!” And this other child, before whom, in want of +other covering, she was spreading her long tangled locks, bleached unnaturally +white—ah! that she was she must continue, sole partner of her blasted +remainder of life. Yet, O reader, the brave woman accepted the lot, and took up +the cry which had been its sign immemorially, and which thenceforward was to be +her salutation without change—“Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +The tribune heard it with a tremor, but kept his place. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Two women dying of hunger and thirst. Yet”—the mother did +not falter—“come not near us, nor touch the floor or the wall. +Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me thy story, woman—thy name, and when thou wert put here, +and by whom, and for what.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was once in this city of Jerusalem a Prince Ben-Hur, the friend of +all generous Romans, and who had Cæsar for his friend. I am his widow, and +this one with me is his child. How may I tell you for what we were sunk here, +when I do not know, unless it was because we were rich? Valerius Gratus can +tell you who our enemy was, and when our imprisonment began. I cannot. See to +what we have been reduced—oh, see, and have pity!” +</p> + +<p> +The air was heavy with the pest and the smoke of the torches, yet the Roman +called one of the torch-bearers to his side, and wrote the answer nearly word +for word. It was terse, and comprehensive, containing at once a history, an +accusation, and a prayer. No common person could have made it, and he could not +but pity and believe. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou shalt have relief, woman,” he said, closing the tablets. +“I will send thee food and drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“And raiment, and purifying water, we pray you, O generous Roman!” +</p> + +<p> +“As thou wilt,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“God is good,” said the widow, sobbing. “May his peace abide +with you!” +</p> + +<p> +“And, further,” he added, “I cannot see thee again. Make +preparation, and to-night I will have thee taken to the gate of the Tower, and +set free. Thou knowest the law. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke to the men, and went out the door. +</p> + +<p> +Very shortly some slaves came to the cell with a large gurglet of water, a +basin and napkins, a platter with bread and meat, and some garments of +women’s wear; and, setting them down within reach of the prisoners, they +ran away. +</p> + +<p> +About the middle of the first watch, the two were conducted to the gate, and +turned into the street. So the Roman quit himself of them, and in the city of +their fathers they were once more free. +</p> + +<p> +Up to the stars, twinkling merrily as of old, they looked; then they asked +themselves, +</p> + +<p> +“What next? and where to?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap63"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +About the hour Gesius, the keeper, made his appearance before the tribune in +the Tower of Antonia, a footman was climbing the eastern face of Mount Olivet. +The road was rough and dusty, and vegetation on that side burned brown, for it +was the dry season in Judea. Well for the traveller that he had youth and +strength, not to speak of the cool, flowing garments with which he was clothed. +</p> + +<p> +He proceeded slowly, looking often to his right and left; not with the vexed, +anxious expression which marks a man going forward uncertain of the way, but +rather the air with which one approaches as old acquaintance after a long +separation—half of pleasure, half of inquiry; as if he were saying, +“I am glad to be with you again; let me see in what you are +changed.” +</p> + +<p> +As he arose higher, he sometimes paused to look behind him over the gradually +widening view terminating in the mountains of Moab; but when at length he drew +near the summit, he quickened his step, unmindful of fatigue, and hurried on +without pause or turning of the face. On the summit—to reach which he +bent his steps somewhat right of the beaten path—he came to a dead stop, +arrested as if by a strong hand. Then one might have seen his eyes dilate, his +cheeks flush, his breath quicken, effects all of one bright sweeping glance at +what lay before him. +</p> + +<p> +The traveller, good reader, was no other than Ben-Hur; the spectacle, +Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +Not the Holy City of to-day, but the Holy City as left by Herod—the Holy +City of the Christ. Beautiful yet, as seen from old Olivet, what must it have +been then? +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur betook him to a stone and sat down, and, stripping his head of the +close white handkerchief which served it for covering, made the survey at +leisure. +</p> + +<p> +The same has been done often since by a great variety of persons, under +circumstances surpassingly singular—by the son of Vespasian, by the +Islamite, by the Crusader, conquerors all of them; by many a pilgrim from the +great New World, which waited discovery nearly fifteen hundred years after the +time of our story; but of the multitude probably not one has taken that view +with sensations more keenly poignant, more sadly sweet, more proudly bitter, +than Ben-Hur. He was stirred by recollections of his countrymen, their triumphs +and vicissitudes, their history the history of God. The city was of their +building, at once a lasting testimony of their crimes and devotion, their +weakness and genius, their religion and their irreligion. Though he had seen +Rome to familiarity, he was gratified. The sight filled a measure of pride +which would have made him drunk with vainglory but for the thought, princely as +the property was, it did not any longer belong to his countrymen; the worship +in the Temple was by permission of strangers; the hill where David dwelt was a +marbled cheat—an office in which the chosen of the Lord were wrung and +wrung for taxes, and scourged for very deathlessness of faith. These, however, +were pleasures and griefs of patriotism common to every Jew of the period; in +addition, Ben-Hur brought with him a personal history which would not out of +mind for other consideration whatever, which the spectacle served only to +freshen and vivify. +</p> + +<p> +A country of hills changes but little; where the hills are of rock, it changes +not at all. The scene Ben-Hur beheld is the same now, except as respects the +city. The failure is in the handiwork of man alone. +</p> + +<p> +The sun dealt more kindly by the west side of Olivet than by the east, and men +were certainly more loving towards it. The vines with which it was partially +clad, and the sprinkling of trees, chiefly figs and old wild olives, were +comparatively green. Down to the dry bed of the Cedron the verdure extended, a +refreshment to the vision; there Olivet ceased and Moriah began—a wall of +bluff boldness, white as snow, founded by Solomon, completed by Herod. Up, up +the wall the eye climbed course by course of the ponderous rocks composing +it—up to Solomon’s Porch, which was as the pedestal of the +monument, the hill being the plinth. Lingering there a moment, the eye resumed +its climbing, going next to the Gentiles’ Court, then to the +Israelites’ Court, then to the Women’s Court, then to the Court of +the Priests, each a pillared tier of white marble, one above the other in +terraced retrocession; over them all a crown of crowns infinitely sacred, +infinitely beautiful, majestic in proportions, effulgent with beaten +gold—lo! the Tent, the Tabernacle, the Holy of Holies. The Ark was not +there, but Jehovah was—in the faith of every child of Israel he was there +a personal Presence. As a temple, as a monument, there was nowhere anything of +man’s building to approach that superlative apparition. Now, not a stone +of it remains above another. Who shall rebuild that building? When shall the +rebuilding be begun? So asks every pilgrim who has stood where Ben-Hur +was—he asks, knowing the answer is in the bosom of God, whose secrets are +not least marvellous in their well-keeping. And then the third question, What +of him who foretold the ruin which has so certainly befallen? God? Or man of +God? Or—enough that the question is for us to answer. +</p> + +<p> +And still Ben-Hur’s eyes climbed on and up—up over the roof of the +Temple, to the hill Zion, consecrated to sacred memories, inseparable from the +anointed kings. He knew the Cheesemonger’s Valley dipped deep down +between Moriah and Zion; that it was spanned by the Xystus; that there were +gardens and palaces in its depths; but over them all his thoughts soared with +his vision to the great grouping on the royal hill—the house of Caiaphas, +the Central Synagogue, the Roman Praetorium, Hippicus the eternal, and the sad +but mighty cenotaphs Phasaelus and Mariamne—all relieved against Gareb, +purpling in the distance. And when midst them he singled out the palace of +Herod, what could he but think of the King Who Was Coming, to whom he was +himself devoted, whose path he had undertaken to smooth, whose empty hands he +dreamed of filling? And forward ran his fancy to the day the new King should +come to claim his own and take possession of it—of Moriah and its Temple; +of Zion and its towers and palaces; of Antonia, frowning darkly there just to +the right of the Temple; of the new unwalled city of Bezetha; of the millions +of Israel to assemble with palm-branches and banners, to sing rejoicing because +the Lord had conquered and given them the world. +</p> + +<p> +Men speak of dreaming as if it were a phenomenon of night and sleep. They +should know better. All results achieved by us are self-promised, and all +self-promises are made in dreams awake. Dreaming is the relief of labor, the +wine that sustains us in act. We learn to love labor, not for itself, but for +the opportunity it furnishes for dreaming, which is the great under-monotone of +real life, unheard, unnoticed, because of its constancy. Living is dreaming. +Only in the grave are there no dreams. Let no one smile at Ben-Hur for doing +that which he himself would have done at that time and place under the same +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +The sun stooped low in its course. Awhile the flaring disk seemed to perch +itself on the far summit of the mountains in the west, brazening all the sky +above the city, and rimming the walls and towers with the brightness of gold. +Then it disappeared as with a plunge. The quiet turned Ben-Hur’s thought +homeward. There was a point in the sky a little north of the peerless front of +the Holy of Holies upon which he fixed his gaze: under it, straight as a +leadline would have dropped, lay his father’s house, if yet the house +endured. +</p> + +<p> +The mellowing influences of the evening mellowed his feelings, and, putting his +ambitions aside, he thought of the duty that was bringing him to Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +Out in the desert while with Ilderim, looking for strong places and acquainting +himself with it generally, as a soldier studies a country in which he has +projected a campaign, a messenger came one evening with the news that Gratus +was removed, and Pontius Pilate sent to take his place. +</p> + +<p> +Messala was disabled and believed him dead; Gratus was powerless and gone; why +should Ben-Hur longer defer the search for his mother and sister? There was +nothing to fear now. If he could not himself see into the prisons of Judea, he +could examine them with the eyes of others. If the lost were found, Pilate +could have no motive in holding them in custody—none, at least, which +could not be overcome by purchase. If found, he would carry them to a place of +safety, and then, in calmer mind, his conscience at rest, this one first duty +done, he could give himself more entirely to the King Who Was Coming. He +resolved at once. That night he counselled with Ilderim, and obtained his +assent. Three Arabs came with him to Jericho, where he left them and the +horses, and proceeded alone and on foot. Malluch was to meet him in Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s scheme, be it observed, was as yet a generality. +</p> + +<p> +In view of the future, it was advisable to keep himself in hiding from the +authorities, particularly the Romans. Malluch was shrewd and trusty; the very +man to charge with the conduct of the investigation. +</p> + +<p> +Where to begin was the first point. He had no clear idea about it. His wish was +to commence with the Tower of Antonia. Tradition not of long standing planted +the gloomy pile over a labyrinth of prison-cells, which, more even than the +strong garrison, kept it a terror to the Jewish fancy. A burial, such as his +people had been subjected to, might be possible there. Besides, in such a +strait, the natural inclination is to start search at the place where the loss +occurred, and he could not forget that his last sight of the loved ones was as +the guard pushed them along the street in the direction to the Tower. If they +were not there now, but had been, some record of the fact must remain, a clew +which had only to be followed faithfully to the end. +</p> + +<p> +Under this inclination, moreover, there was a hope which he could not forego. +From Simonides he knew Amrah, the Egyptian nurse, was living. It will be +remembered, doubtless, that the faithful creature, the morning the calamity +overtook the Hurs, broke from the guard and ran back into the palace, where, +along with other chattels, she had been sealed up. During the years following, +Simonides kept her supplied; so she was there now, sole occupant of the great +house, which, with all his offers, Gratus had not been able to sell. The story +of its rightful owners sufficed to secure the property from strangers, whether +purchasers or mere occupants. People going to and fro passed it with whispers. +Its reputation was that of a haunted house; derived probably from the +infrequent glimpses of poor old Amrah, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in a +latticed window. Certainly no more constant spirit ever abided than she; nor +was there ever a tenement so shunned and fitted for ghostly habitation. Now, if +he could get to her, Ben-Hur fancied she could help him to knowledge which, +though faint, might yet be serviceable. Anyhow, sight of her in that place, so +endeared by recollection, would be to him a pleasure next to finding the +objects of his solicitude. +</p> + +<p> +So, first of all things, he would go to the old house, and look for Amrah. +</p> + +<p> +Thus resolved, he arose shortly after the going-down of the sun, and began +descent of the Mount by the road which, from the summit, bends a little north +of east. Down nearly at the foot, close by the bed of the Cedron, he came to +the intersection with the road leading south to the village of Siloam and the +pool of that name. There he fell in with a herdsman driving some sheep to +market. He spoke to the man, and joined him, and in his company passed by +Gethsemane on into the city through the Fish Gate. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap64"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +It was dark when, parting with the drover inside the gate, Ben-Hur turned into +a narrow lane leading to the south. A few of the people whom he met saluted +him. The bouldering of the pavement was rough. The houses on both sides were +low, dark, and cheerless; the doors all closed: from the roofs, occasionally, +he heard women crooning to children. The loneliness of his situation, the +night, the uncertainty cloaking the object of his coming, all affected him +cheerlessly. With feelings sinking lower and lower, he came directly to the +deep reservoir now known as the Pool of Bethesda, in which the water reflected +the over-pending sky. Looking up, he beheld the northern wall of the Tower of +Antonia, a black frowning heap reared into the dim steel-gray sky. He halted as +if challenged by a threatening sentinel. +</p> + +<p> +The Tower stood up so high, and seemed so vast, resting apparently upon +foundations so sure, that he was constrained to acknowledge its strength. If +his mother were there in living burial, what could he do for her? By the strong +hand, nothing. An army might beat the stony face with ballista and ram, and be +laughed at. Against him alone, the gigantic southeast turret looked down in the +self-containment of a hill. And he thought, cunning is so easily baffled; and +God, always the last resort of the helpless—God is sometimes so slow to +act! +</p> + +<p> +In doubt and misgiving, he turned into the street in front of the Tower, and +followed it slowly on to the west. +</p> + +<p> +Over in Bezetha he knew there was a khan, where it was his intention to seek +lodging while in the city; but just now he could not resist the impulse to go +home. His heart drew him that way. +</p> + +<p> +The old formal salutation which he received from the few people who passed him +had never sounded so pleasantly. Presently, all the eastern sky began to silver +and shine, and objects before invisible in the west—chiefly the tall +towers on Mount Zion—emerged as from a shadowy depth, and put on spectral +distinctness, floating, as it were, above the yawning blackness of the valley +below, very castles in the air. +</p> + +<p> +He came, at length, to his father’s house. +</p> + +<p> +Of those who read this page, some there will be to divine his feelings without +prompting. They are such as had happy homes in their youth, no matter how far +that may have been back in time—homes which are now the starting-points +of all recollection; paradises from which they went forth in tears, and which +they would now return to, if they could, as little children; places of laughter +and singing, and associations dearer than any or all the triumphs of +after-life. +</p> + +<p> +At the gate on the north side of the old house Ben-Hur stopped. In the corners +the wax used in the sealing-up was still plainly seen, and across the valves +was the board with the inscription— +</p> + +<h4>“THIS IS THE PROPERTY OF<br> +THE EMPEROR.”</h4> + +<p> +Nobody had gone in or out the gate since the dreadful day of the separation. +Should he knock as of old? It was useless, he knew; yet he could not resist the +temptation. Amrah might hear, and look out of one of the windows on that side. +Taking a stone, he mounted the broad stone step, and tapped three times. A dull +echo replied. He tried again, louder than before; and again, pausing each time +to listen. The silence was mocking. Retiring into the street, he watched the +windows; but they, too, were lifeless. The parapet on the roof was defined +sharply against the brightening sky; nothing could have stirred upon it unseen +by him, and nothing did stir. +</p> + +<p> +From the north side he passed to the west, where there were four windows which +he watched long and anxiously, but with as little effect. At times his heart +swelled with impotent wishes; at others, he trembled at the deceptions of his +own fancy. Amrah made no sign—not even a ghost stirred. +</p> + +<p> +Silently, then, he stole round to the south. There, too, the gate was sealed +and inscribed. The mellow splendor of the August moon, pouring over the crest +of Olivet, since termed the Mount of Offence, brought the lettering boldly out; +and he read, and was filled with rage. All he could do was to wrench the board +from its nailing, and hurl it into the ditch. Then he sat upon the step, and +prayed for the New King, and that his coming might be hastened. As his blood +cooled, insensibly he yielded to the fatigue of long travel in the summer heat, +and sank down lower, and, at last, slept. +</p> + +<p> +About that time two women came down the street from the direction of the Tower +of Antonia, approaching the palace of the Hurs. They advanced stealthily, with +timid steps, pausing often to listen. At the corner of the rugged pile, one +said to the other, in a low voice, +</p> + +<p> +“This is it, Tirzah!” +</p> + +<p> +And Tirzah, after a look, caught her mother’s hand, and leaned upon her +heavily, sobbing, but silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go on, my child, because”—the mother hesitated and +trembled; then, with an effort to be calm, continued—“because when +morning comes they will put us out of the gate of the city to—return no +more.” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah sank almost to the stones. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes!” she said, between sobs; “I forgot. I had the +feeling of going home. But we are lepers, and have no homes; we belong to the +dead!” +</p> + +<p> +The mother stooped and raised her tenderly, saying, “We have nothing to +fear. Let us go on.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, lifting their empty hands, they could have run upon a legion and put it +to flight. +</p> + +<p> +And, creeping in close to the rough wall, they glided on, like two ghosts, till +they came to the gate, before which they also paused. Seeing the board, they +stepped upon the stone in the scarce cold tracks of Ben-Hur, and read the +inscription—“This is the Property of the Emperor.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the mother clasped her hands, and, with upraised eyes, moaned in +unutterable anguish. +</p> + +<p> +“What now, mother? You scare me!” +</p> + +<p> +And the answer was, presently, “Oh, Tirzah, the poor are dead! He is +dead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother! They took everything from him—everything—even +this house!” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor!” said Tirzah, vacantly. +</p> + +<p> +“He will never be able to help us.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow—to-morrow, my child, we must find a seat by the wayside, +and beg alms as the lepers do; beg, or—” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah leaned upon her again, and said, whispering, “Let us—let us +die!” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” the mother said, firmly. “The Lord has appointed our +times, and we are believers in the Lord. We will wait on him even in this. Come +away!” +</p> + +<p> +She caught Tirzah’s hand as she spoke, and hastened to the west corner of +the house, keeping close to the wall. No one being in sight there, they kept on +to the next corner, and shrank from the moonlight, which lay exceedingly bright +over the whole south front, and along a part of the street. The mother’s +will was strong. Casting one look back and up to the windows on the west side, +she stepped out into the light, drawing Tirzah after her; and the extent of +their affliction was then to be seen—on their lips and cheeks, in their +bleared eyes, in their cracked hands; especially in the long, snaky locks, +stiff with loathsome ichor, and, like their eyebrows, ghastly white. Nor was it +possible to have told which was mother, which daughter; both alike seemed +witch-like old. +</p> + +<p> +“Hist!” said the mother. “There is some one lying upon the +step—a man. Let us go round him.” +</p> + +<p> +They crossed to the opposite side of the street quickly, and, in the shade +there, moved on till before the gate, where they stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“He is asleep, Tirzah!” +</p> + +<p> +The man was very still. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here, and I will try the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, the mother stole noiselessly across, and ventured to touch the +wicket; she never knew if it yielded, for that moment the man sighed, and, +turning restlessly, shifted the handkerchief on his head in such manner that +the face was left upturned and fair in the broad moonlight. She looked down at +it and started; then looked again, stooping a little, and arose and clasped her +hands and raised her eyes to heaven in mute appeal. An instant so, and she ran +back to Tirzah. +</p> + +<p> +“As the Lord liveth, the man is my son—thy brother!” she +said, in an awe-inspiring whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother?—Judah?” +</p> + +<p> +The mother caught her hand eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” she said, in the same enforced whisper, “let us look +at him together—once more—only once—then help thou thy +servants, Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the street hand in hand ghostly-quick, ghostly-still. When their +shadows fell upon him, they stopped. One of his hands was lying out upon the +step palm up. Tirzah fell upon her knees, and would have kissed it; but the +mother drew her back. +</p> + +<p> +“Not for thy life; not for thy life! Unclean, unclean!” she +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah shrank from him, as if he were the leprous one. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was handsome as the manly are. His cheeks and forehead were swarthy +from exposure to the desert sun and air; yet under the light mustache the lips +were red, and the teeth shone white, and the soft beard did not hide the full +roundness of chin and throat. How beautiful he appeared to the mother’s +eyes! How mightily she yearned to put her arms about him, and take his head +upon her bosom and kiss him, as had been her wont in his happy childhood! Where +got she the strength to resist the impulse? From her love, O, reader!—her +mother-love, which, if thou wilt observe well, hath this unlikeness to any +other love: tender to the object, it can be infinitely tyrannical to itself, +and thence all its power of self-sacrifice. Not for restoration to health and +fortune, not for any blessing of life, not for life itself, would she have left +her leprous kiss upon his cheek! Yet touch him she must; in that instant of +finding him she must renounce him forever! How bitter, bitter hard it was, let +some other mother say! She knelt down, and, crawling to his feet, touched the +sole of one of his sandals with her lips, yellow though it was with the dust of +the street—and touched it again and again; and her very soul was in the +kisses. +</p> + +<p> +He stirred, and tossed his hand. They moved back, but heard him mutter in his +dream, +</p> + +<p> +“Mother! Amrah! Where is—” +</p> + +<p> +He fell off into the deep sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah stared wistfully. The mother put her face in the dust, struggling to +suppress a sob so deep and strong it seemed her heart was bursting. Almost she +wished he might waken. +</p> + +<p> +He had asked for her; she was not forgotten; in his sleep he was thinking of +her. Was it not enough? +</p> + +<p> +Presently mother beckoned to Tirzah, and they arose, and taking one more look, +as if to print his image past fading, hand in hand they recrossed the street. +Back in the shade of the wall there, they retired and knelt, looking at him, +waiting for him to wake—waiting some revelation, they knew not what. +Nobody has yet given us a measure for the patience of a love like theirs. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by, the sleep being yet upon him, another woman appeared at the corner +of the palace. The two in the shade saw her plainly in the light; a small +figure, much bent, dark-skinned, gray-haired, dressed neatly in servant’s +garb, and carrying a basket full of vegetables. +</p> + +<p> +At sight of the man upon the step the new-comer stopped; then, as if decided, +she walked on—very lightly as she drew near the sleeper. Passing round +him, she went to the gate, slid the wicket latch easily to one side, and put +her hand in the opening. One of the broad boards in the left valve swung ajar +without noise. She put the basket through, and was about to follow, when, +yielding to curiosity, she lingered to have one look at the stranger whose face +was below her in open view. +</p> + +<p> +The spectators across the street heard a low exclamation, and saw the woman rub +her eyes as if to renew their power, bend closer down, clasp her hands, gaze +wildly around, look at the sleeper, stoop and raise the outlying hand, and kiss +it fondly—that which they wished so mightily to do, but dared not. +</p> + +<p> +Awakened by the action, Ben-Hur instinctively withdrew the hand; as he did so, +his eyes met the woman’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah! O Amrah, is it thou?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The good heart made no answer in words, but fell upon his neck, crying for joy. +</p> + +<p> +Gently he put her arms away, and lifting the dark face wet with tears, kissed +it, his joy only a little less than hers. Then those across the way heard him +say, +</p> + +<p> +“Mother—Tirzah—O Amrah, tell me of them! Speak, speak, I pray +thee!” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah only cried afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou has seen them, Amrah. Thou knowest where they are; tell me they are +at home.” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah moved, but her mother, divining her purpose, caught her and whispered, +“Do not go—not for life. Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +Her love was in tyrannical mood. Though both their hearts broke, he should not +become what they were; and she conquered. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, Amrah, so entreated, only wept the more. +</p> + +<p> +“Wert thou going in?” he asked, presently, seeing the board swung +back. “Come, then. I will go with thee.” He arose as he spoke. +“The Romans—be the curse of the Lord upon them!—the Romans +lied. The house is mine. Rise, Amrah, and let us go in.” A moment and +they were gone, leaving the two in the shade to behold the gate staring blankly +at them—the gate which they might not ever enter more. They nestled +together in the dust. +</p> + +<p> +They had done their duty. +</p> + +<p> +Their love was proven. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning they were found, and driven out the city with stones. +</p> + +<p> +“Begone! Ye are of the dead; go to the dead!” +</p> + +<p> +With the doom ringing in their ears, they went forth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap65"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +Nowadays travellers in the Holy Land looking for the famous place with the +beautiful name, the King’s Garden, descend the bed of the Cedron or the +curve of Gihon and Hinnom as far as the old well En-rogel, take a drink of the +sweet living water, and stop, having reached the limit of the interesting in +that direction. They look at the great stones with which the well is curbed, +ask its depth, smile at the primitive mode of drawing the purling treasure, and +waste some pity on the ragged wretch who presides over it; then, facing about, +they are enraptured with the mounts Moriah and Zion, both of which slope +towards them from the north, one terminating in Ophel, the other in what used +to be the site of the city of David. In the background, up far in the sky, the +garniture of the sacred places is visible: here the Haram, with its graceful +dome; yonder the stalward remains of Hippicus, defiant even in ruins. When that +view has been enjoyed, and is sufficiently impressed upon the memory, the +travellers glance at the Mount of Offence standing in rugged stateliness at +their right hand, and then at the Hill of Evil Counsel over on the left, in +which, if they be well up in Scriptural history and in the traditions +rabbinical and monkish, they will find a certain interest not to be overcome by +superstitious horror. +</p> + +<p> +It were long to tell all the points of interest grouped around that hill; for +the present purpose, enough that its feet are planted in the veritable orthodox +Hell of the moderns—the Hell of brimstone and fire—in the old +nomenclature Gehenna; and that now, as in the days of Christ, its bluff face +opposite the city on the south and southeast is seamed and pitted with tombs +which have been immemorially the dwelling-places of lepers, not singly, but +collectively. There they set up their government and established their society; +there they founded a city and dwelt by themselves, avoided as the accursed of +God. +</p> + +<p> +The second morning after the incidents of the preceding chapter, Amrah drew +near the well En-rogel, and seated herself upon a stone. One familiar with +Jerusalem, looking at her, would have said she was the favorite servant of some +well-to-do family. She brought with her a water-jar and a basket, the contents +of the latter covered with a snow-white napkin. Placing them on the ground at +her side, she loosened the shawl which fell from her head, knit her fingers +together in her lap, and gazed demurely up to where the hill drops steeply down +into Aceldama and the Potter’s Field. +</p> + +<p> +It was very early, and she was the first to arrive at the well. Soon, however, +a man came bringing a rope and a leathern bucket. Saluting the little +dark-faced woman, he undid the rope, fixed it to the bucket, and waited +customers. Others who chose to do so might draw water for themselves, he was a +professional in the business, and would fill the largest jar the stoutest woman +could carry for a gerah. +</p> + +<p> +Amrah sat still, and had nothing to say. Seeing the jar, the man asked after a +while if she wished it filled; she answered him civilly, “Not now;” +whereupon he gave her no more attention. When the dawn was fairly defined over +Olivet, his patrons began to arrive, and he had all he could do to attend to +them. All the time she kept her seat, looking intently up at the hill. +</p> + +<p> +The sun made its appearance, yet she sat watching and waiting; and while she +thus waits, let us see what her purpose is. +</p> + +<p> +Her custom had been to go to market after nightfall. Stealing out unobserved, +she would seek the shops in the Tyropoeon, or those over by the Fish Gate in +the east, make her purchases of meat and vegetables, and return and shut +herself up again. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasure she derived from the presence of Ben-Hur in the old house once +more may be imagined. She had nothing to tell him of her mistress or +Tirzah—nothing. He would have had her move to a place not so lonesome; +she refused. She would have had him take his own room again, which was just as +he had left it; but the danger of discovery was too great, and he wished above +all things to avoid inquiry. He would come and see her often as possible. +Coming in the night, he would also go away in the night. She was compelled to +be satisfied, and at once occupied herself contriving ways to make him happy. +That he was a man now did not occur to her; nor did it enter her mind that he +might have put by or lost his boyish tastes; to please him, she thought to go +on her old round of services. He used to be fond of confections; she remembered +the things in that line which delighted him most, and resolved to make them, +and have a supply always ready when he came. Could anything be happier? So next +night, earlier than usual, she stole out with her basket, and went over to the +Fish Gate Market. Wandering about, seeking the best honey, she chanced to hear +a man telling a story. +</p> + +<p> +What the story was the reader can arrive at with sufficient certainty when told +that the narrator was one of the men who had held torches for the commandant of +the Tower of Antonia when, down in cell VI., the Hurs were found. The +particulars of the finding were all told, and she heard them, with the names of +the prisoners, and the widow’s account of herself. +</p> + +<p> +The feelings with which Amrah listened to the recital were such as became the +devoted creature she was. She made her purchases, and returned home in a dream. +What a happiness she had in store for her boy! She had found his mother! +</p> + +<p> +She put the basket away, now laughing, now crying. Suddenly she stopped and +thought. It would kill him to be told that his mother and Tirzah were lepers. +He would go through the awful city over on the Hill of Evil Counsel—into +each infected tomb he would go without rest, asking for them, and the disease +would catch him, and their fate would be his. She wrung her hands. What should +she do? +</p> + +<p> +Like many a one before her, and many a one since, she derived inspiration, if +not wisdom, from her affection, and came to a singular conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +The lepers, she knew, were accustomed of mornings to come down from their +sepulchral abodes in the hill, and take a supply of water for the day from the +well En-rogel. Bringing their jars, they would set them on the ground and wait, +standing afar until they were filled. To that the mistress and Tirzah must +come; for the law was inexorable, and admitted no distinction. A rich leper was +no better than a poor one. +</p> + +<p> +So Amrah decided not to speak to Ben-Hur of the story she had heard, but go +alone to the well and wait. Hunger and thirst would drive the unfortunates +thither, and she believed she could recognize them at sight; if not, they might +recognize her. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Ben-Hur came, and they talked much. To-morrow Malluch would arrive; +then the search should be immediately begun. He was impatient to be about it. +To amuse himself he would visit the sacred places in the vicinity. The secret, +we may be sure, weighed heavily on the woman, but she held her peace. +</p> + +<p> +When he was gone she busied herself in the preparation of things good to eat, +applying her utmost skill to the work. At the approach of day, as signalled by +the stars, she filled the basket, selected a jar, and took the road to +En-rogel, going out by the Fish Gate which was earliest open, and arriving as +we have seen. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after sunrise, when business at the well was most pressing, and the +drawer of water most hurried; when, in fact, half a dozen buckets were in use +at the same time, everybody making haste to get away before the cool of the +morning melted into the heat of the day, the tenantry of the hill began to +appear and move about the doors of their tombs. Somewhat later they were +discernible in groups, of which not a few were children so young that they +suggested the holiest relation. Numbers came momentarily around the turn of the +bluff—women with jars upon their shoulders, old and very feeble men +hobbling along on staffs and crutches. Some leaned upon the shoulders of +others; a few—the utterly helpless—lay, like heaps of rags, upon +litters. Even that community of superlative sorrow had its love-light to make +life endurable and attractive. Distance softened without entirely veiling the +misery of the outcasts. +</p> + +<p> +From her seat by the well Amrah kept watch upon the spectral groups. She +scarcely moved. More than once she imagined she saw those she sought. That they +were there upon the hill she had no doubt; that they must come down and near +she knew; when the people at the well were all served they would come. +</p> + +<p> +Now, quite at the base of the bluff there was a tomb which had more than once +attracted Amrah by its wide gaping. A stone of large dimensions stood near its +mouth. The sun looked into it through the hottest hours of the day, and +altogether it seemed uninhabitable by anything living, unless, perchance, by +some wild dogs returning from scavenger duty down in Gehenna. Thence, however, +and greatly to her surprise, the patient Egyptian beheld two women come, one +half supporting, half leading, the other. They were both white-haired; both +looked old; but their garments were not rent, and they gazed about them as if +the locality were new. The witness below thought she even saw them shrink +terrified at the spectacle offered by the hideous assemblage of which they +found themselves part. Slight reasons, certainly, to make her heart beat +faster, and draw her attention to them exclusively; but so they did. +</p> + +<p> +The two remained by the stone awhile; then they moved slowly, painfully, and +with much fear towards the well, whereat several voices were raised to stop +them; yet they kept on. The drawer of water picked up some pebbles, and made +ready to drive them back. The company cursed them. The greater company on the +hill shouted shrilly, “Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” thought Amrah of the two, as they kept +coming—“surely, they are strangers to the usage of lepers.” +</p> + +<p> +She arose, and went to meet them, taking the basket and jar. The alarm at the +well immediately subsided. +</p> + +<p> +“What a fool,” said one, laughing, “what a fool to give good +bread to the dead in that way!” +</p> + +<p> +“And to think of her coming so far!” said another. “I would +at least make them meet me at the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah, with better impulse, proceeded. If she should be mistaken! Her heart +arose into her throat. And the farther she went the more doubtful and confused +she became. Four or five yards from where they stood waiting for her she +stopped. +</p> + +<p> +That the mistress she loved! whose hand she had so often kissed in gratitude! +whose image of matronly loveliness she had treasured in memory so faithfully! +And that the Tirzah she had nursed through babyhood! whose pains she had +soothed, whose sports she had shared! that the smiling, sweet-faced, songful +Tirzah, the light of the great house, the promised blessing of her old age! Her +mistress, her darling—they? The soul of the woman sickened at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +“These are old women,” she said to herself. “I never saw them +before. I will go back.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned away. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah,” said one of the lepers. +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian dropped the jar, and looked back, trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Who called me?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah.” +</p> + +<p> +The servant’s wondering eyes settled upon the speaker’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“We are they you are seeking.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah fell upon her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“O my mistress, my mistress! As I have made your God my God, be he +praised that he has led me to you!” +</p> + +<p> +And upon her knees the poor overwhelmed creature began moving forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, Amrah! Come not nearer. Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +The words sufficed. Amrah fell upon her face, sobbing so loud the people at the +well heard her. Suddenly she arose upon her knees again. +</p> + +<p> +“O my mistress, where is Tirzah?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am, Amrah, here! Will you not bring me a little water?” +</p> + +<p> +The habit of the servant renewed itself. Putting back the coarse hair fallen +over her face, Amrah arose and went to the basket and uncovered it. +</p> + +<p> +“See,” she said, “here are bread and meat.” +</p> + +<p> +She would have spread the napkin upon the ground, but the mistress spoke again, +</p> + +<p> +“Do not so, Amrah. Those yonder may stone you, and refuse us drink. Leave +the basket with me. Take up the jar and fill it, and bring it here. We will +carry them to the tomb with us. For this day you will then have rendered all +the service that is lawful. Haste, Amrah.” +</p> + +<p> +The people under whose eyes all this had passed made way for the servant, and +even helped her fill the jar, so piteous was the grief her countenance showed. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” a woman asked. +</p> + +<p> +Amrah meekly answered, “They used to be good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Raising the jar upon her shoulder, she hurried back. In forgetfulness, she +would have gone to them, but the cry “Unclean, unclean! Beware!” +arrested her. Placing the water by the basket, she stepped back, and stood off +a little way. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Amrah,” said the mistress, taking the articles into +possession. “This is very good of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nothing more I can do?” asked Amrah. +</p> + +<p> +The mother’s hand was upon the jar, and she was fevered with thirst; yet +she paused, and rising, said firmly, “Yes, I know that Judah has come +home. I saw him at the gate night before last asleep on the step. I saw you +wake him.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah clasped her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“O my mistress! You saw it, and did not come!” +</p> + +<p> +“That would have been to kill him. I can never take him in my arms again. +I can never kiss him more. O Amrah, Amrah, you love him, I know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the true heart, bursting into tears again, and +kneeling. “I would die for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prove to me what you say, Amrah.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you shall not tell him where we are or that you have seen +us—only that, Amrah.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he is looking for you. He has come from afar to find you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must not find us. He shall not become what we are. Hear, Amrah. You +shall serve us as you have this day. You shall bring us the little we +need—not long now—not long. You shall come every morning and +evening thus, and—and”—the voice trembled, the strong will +almost broke down—“and you shall tell us of him, Amrah; but to him +you shall say nothing of us. Hear you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it will be so hard to hear him speak of you, and see him going about +looking for you—to see all his love, and not tell him so much as that you +are alive!” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell him we are well, Amrah?” +</p> + +<p> +The servant bowed her head in her arms. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” the mistress continued; “wherefore to be silent +altogether. Go now, and come this evening. We will look for you. Till then, +farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +“The burden will be heavy, O my mistress, and hard to bear,” said +Amrah, falling upon her face. +</p> + +<p> +“How much harder would it be to see him as we are,” the mother +answered as she gave the basket to Tirzah. “Come again this +evening,” she repeated, taking up the water, and starting for the tomb. +</p> + +<p> +Amrah waited kneeling until they had disappeared; then she took the road +sorrowfully home. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening she returned; and thereafter it became her custom to serve them +in the morning and evening, so that they wanted for nothing needful. The tomb, +though ever so stony and desolate, was less cheerless than the cell in the +Tower had been. Daylight gilded its door, and it was in the beautiful world. +Then, one can wait death with so much more faith out under the open sky. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap66"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +The morning of the first day of the seventh month—Tishri in the Hebrew, +October in English—Ben-Hur arose from his couch in the khan ill satisfied +with the whole world. +</p> + +<p> +Little time had been lost in consultation upon the arrival of Malluch. The +latter began the search at the Tower of Antonia, and began it boldly, by a +direct inquiry of the tribune commanding. He gave the officer a history of the +Hurs, and all the particulars of the accident to Gratus, describing the affair +as wholly without criminality. The object of the quest now, he said, was if any +of the unhappy family were discovered alive to carry a petition to the feet of +Cæsar, praying restitution of the estate and return to their civil rights. +Such a petition, he had no doubt, would result in an investigation by the +imperial order, a proceeding of which the friends of the family had no fear. +</p> + +<p> +In reply the tribune stated circumstantially the discovery of the women in the +Tower, and permitted a reading of the memorandum he had taken of their account +of themselves; when leave to copy it was prayed, he even permitted that. +</p> + +<p> +Malluch thereupon hurried to Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +It were useless to attempt description of the effect the terrible story had +upon the young man. The pain was not relieved by tears or passionate outcries; +it was too deep for any expression. He sat still a long time, with pallid face +and laboring heart. Now and then, as if to show the thoughts which were most +poignant, he muttered, +</p> + +<p> +“Lepers, lepers! They—my mother and Tirzah—they lepers! How +long, how long, O Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +One moment he was torn by a virtuous rage of sorrow, next by a longing for +vengeance which, it must be admitted, was scarcely less virtuous. +</p> + +<p> +At length he arose. +</p> + +<p> +“I must look for them. They may be dying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will you look?” asked Malluch. +</p> + +<p> +“There is but one place for them to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Malluch interposed, and finally prevailed so far as to have the management of +the further attempt intrusted to him. Together they went to the gate over on +the side opposite the Hill of Evil Counsel, immemorially the lepers’ +begging-ground. There they stayed all day, giving alms, asking for the two +women, and offering rich rewards for their discovery. So they did in repetition +day after day through the remainder of the fifth month, and all the sixth. +There was diligent scouring of the dread city on the hill by lepers to whom the +rewards offered were mighty incentives, for they were only dead in law. Over +and over again the gaping tomb down by the well was invaded, and its tenants +subjected to inquiry; but they kept their secret fast. The result was failure. +And now, the morning of the first day of the seventh month, the extent of the +additional information gained was that not long before two leprous women had +been stoned from the Fish Gate by the authorities. A little pressing of the +clew, together with some shrewd comparison of dates, led to the sad assurance +that the sufferers were the Hurs, and left the old questions darker than ever. +Where were they? And what had become of them? +</p> + +<p> +“It was not enough that my people should be made lepers,” said the +son, over and over again, with what intensity of bitterness the reader may +imagine; “that was not enough. Oh no! They must be stoned from their +native city! My mother is dead! she has wandered to the wilderness! she is +dead! Tirzah is dead! I alone am left. And for what? How long, O God, thou Lord +God of my fathers, how long shall this Rome endure?” +</p> + +<p> +Angry, hopeless, vengeful, he entered the court of the khan, and found it +crowded with people come in during the night. While he ate his breakfast, he +listened to some of them. To one party he was specially attracted. They were +mostly young, stout, active, hardy men, in manner and speech provincial. In +their look, the certain indefinable air, the pose of the head, glance of the +eye, there was a spirit which did not, as a rule, belong to the outward seeming +of the lower orders of Jerusalem; the spirit thought by some to be a +peculiarity of life in mountainous districts, but which may be more surely +traced to a life of healthful freedom. In a short time he ascertained they were +Galileans, in the city for various purposes, but chiefly to take part in the +Feast of Trumpets, set for that day. They became to him at once objects of +interest, as hailing from the region in which he hoped to find readiest support +in the work he was shortly to set about. +</p> + +<p> +While observing them, his mind running ahead in thought of achievements +possible to a legion of such spirits disciplined after the severe Roman style, +a man came into the court, his face much flushed, his eyes bright with +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you here?” he said to the Galileans. “The rabbis and +elders are going from the Temple to see Pilate. Come, make haste, and let us go +with them.” +</p> + +<p> +They surrounded him in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“To see Pilate! For what?” +</p> + +<p> +“They have discovered a conspiracy. Pilate’s new aqueduct is to be +paid for with money of the Temple.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, with the sacred treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +They repeated the question to each other with flashing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Corban—money of God. Let him touch a shekel of it if he +dare!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” cried the messenger. “The procession is by this time +across the bridge. The whole city is pouring after. We may be needed. Make +haste!” +</p> + +<p> +As if the thought and the act were one, there was quick putting away of useless +garments, and the party stood forth bareheaded, and in the short sleeveless +under-tunics they were used to wearing as reapers in the field and boatmen on +the lake—the garb in which they climbed the hills following the herds, +and plucked the ripened vintage, careless of the sun. Lingering only to tighten +their girdles, they said, “We are ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Ben-Hur spoke to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Men of Galilee,” he said, “I am a son of Judah. Will you +take me in your company?” +</p> + +<p> +“We may have to fight,” they replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then, I will not be first to run away!” +</p> + +<p> +They took the retort in good humor, and the messenger said, “You seem +stout enough. Come along.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur put off his outer garments. +</p> + +<p> +“You think there may be fighting?” he asked, quietly, as he +tightened his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“The guard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Legionaries?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom else can a Roman trust?” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you to fight with?” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at him silently. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he continued, “we will have to do the best we can; +but had we not better choose a leader? The legionaries always have one, and so +are able to act with one mind.” +</p> + +<p> +The Galileans stared more curiously, as if the idea were new to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us at least agree to stay together,” he said. “Now I am +ready, if you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +The khan, it should not be forgotten, was in Bezetha, the new town; and to get +to the Praetorium, as the Romans resonantly styled the palace of Herod on Mount +Zion, the party had to cross the lowlands north and west of the Temple. By +streets—if they may be so called—trending north and south, with +intersections hardly up to the dignity of alleys, they passed rapidly round the +Akra district to the Tower of Mariamne, from which the way was short to the +grand gate of the walled heights. In going, they overtook, or were overtaken +by, people like themselves stirred to wrath by news of the proposed +desecration. When, at length, they reached the gate of the Praetorium, the +procession of elders and rabbis had passed in with a great following, leaving a +greater crowd clamoring outside. +</p> + +<p> +A centurion kept the entrance with a guard drawn up full armed under the +beautiful marble battlements. The sun struck the soldiers fervidly on helm and +shield; but they kept their ranks indifferent alike to its dazzle and to the +mouthings of the rabble. Through the open bronze gates a current of citizens +poured in, while a much lesser one poured out. +</p> + +<p> +“What is going on?” one of the Galileans asked an outcomer. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” was the reply. “The rabbis are before the door of +the palace asking to see Pilate. He has refused to come out. They have sent one +to tell him they will not go away till he has heard them. They are +waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go in,” said Ben-Hur, in his quiet way, seeing what his +companions probably did not, that there was not only a disagreement between the +suitors and the governor, but an issue joined, and a serious question as to who +should have his will. +</p> + +<p> +Inside the gate there was a row of trees in leaf, with seats under them. The +people, whether going or coming, carefully avoided the shade cast gratefully +upon the white, clean-swept pavement; for, strange as it may seem, a rabbinical +ordinance, alleged to have been derived from the law, permitted no green thing +to be grown within the walls of Jerusalem. Even the wise king, it was said, +wanting a garden for his Egyptian bride, was constrained to found it down in +the meeting-place of the valleys above En-rogel. +</p> + +<p> +Through the tree-tops shone the outer fronts of the palace. Turning to the +right, the party proceeded a short distance to a spacious square, on the west +side of which stood the residence of the governor. An excited multitude filled +the square. Every face was directed towards a portico built over a broad +doorway which was closed. Under the portico there was another array of +legionaries. +</p> + +<p> +The throng was so close the friends could not well have advanced if such had +been their desire; they remained therefore in the rear, observers of what was +going on. About the portico they could see the high turbans of the rabbis, +whose impatience communicated at times to the mass behind them; a cry was +frequent to the effect “Pilate, if thou be a governor, come forth, come +forth!” +</p> + +<p> +Once a man coming out pushed through the crowd, his face red with anger. +</p> + +<p> +“Israel is of no account here,” he said, in a loud voice. “On +this holy ground we are no better than dogs of Rome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will he not come out, think you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come? Has he not thrice refused?” +</p> + +<p> +“What will the rabbis do?” +</p> + +<p> +“As at Cæsarea—camp here till he gives them ear.” +</p> + +<p> +“He will not dare touch the treasure, will he?” asked one of the +Galileans. +</p> + +<p> +“Who can say? Did not a Roman profane the Holy of Holies? Is there +anything sacred from Romans?” +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed, and though Pilate deigned them no answer, the rabbis and crowd +remained. Noon came, bringing a shower from the west, but no change in the +situation, except that the multitude was larger and much noisier, and the +feeling more decidedly angry. The shouting was almost continuous, Come forth, +come forth! The cry was sometimes with disrespectful variations. Meanwhile +Ben-Hur held his Galilean friends together. He judged the pride of the Roman +would eventually get the better of his discretion, and that the end could not +be far off. Pilate was but waiting for the people to furnish him an excuse for +resort to violence. +</p> + +<p> +And at last the end came. In the midst of the assemblage there was heard the +sound of blows, succeeded instantly by yells of pain and rage, and a most +furious commotion. The venerable men in front of the portico faced about +aghast. The common people in the rear at first pushed forward; in the centre, +the effort was to get out; and for a short time the pressure of opposing forces +was terrible. A thousand voices made inquiry, raised all at once; as no one had +time to answer, the surprise speedily became a panic. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur kept his senses. +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot see?” he said to one of the Galileans. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will raise you up.” +</p> + +<p> +He caught the man about the middle, and lifted him bodily. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I see now,” said the man. “There are some armed with clubs, +and they are beating the people. They are dressed like Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Romans, as the Lord liveth! Romans in disguise. Their clubs fly like +flails! There, I saw a rabbi struck down—an old man! They spare +nobody!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur let the man down. +</p> + +<p> +“Men of Galilee,” he said, “it is a trick of Pilate’s. +Now, will you do what I say, we will get even with the club-men.” +</p> + +<p> +The Galilean spirit arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes!” they answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go back to the trees by the gate, and we may find the planting of +Herod, though unlawful, has some good in it after all. Come!” +</p> + +<p> +They ran back all of them fast as they could; and, by throwing their united +weight upon the limbs, tore them from the trunks. In a brief time they, too, +were armed. Returning, at the corner of the square they met the crowd rushing +madly for the gate. Behind, the clamor continued—a medley of shrieks, +groans, and execrations. +</p> + +<p> +“To the wall!” Ben-Hur shouted. “To the wall!—and let +the herd go by!” +</p> + +<p> +So, clinging to the masonry at their right hand, they escaped the might of the +rush, and little by little made headway until, at last, the square was reached. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep together now, and follow me!” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Ben-Hur’s leadership was perfect; and as he pushed into the +seething mob his party closed after him in a body. And when the Romans, +clubbing the people and making merry as they struck them down, came hand to +hand with the Galileans, lithe of limb, eager for the fray, and equally armed, +they were in turn surprised. Then the shouting was close and fierce; the crash +of sticks rapid and deadly; the advance furious as hate could make it. No one +performed his part as well as Ben-Hur, whose training served him admirably; +for, not merely he knew to strike and guard; his long arm, perfect action, and +incomparable strength helped him, also, to success in every encounter. He was +at the same time fighting-man and leader. The club he wielded was of goodly +length and weighty, so he had need to strike a man but once. He seemed, +moreover, to have eyes for each combat of his friends, and the faculty of being +at the right moment exactly where he was most needed. In his fighting cry there +were inspiration for his party and alarm for his enemies. Thus surprised and +equally matched, the Romans at first retired, but finally turned their backs +and fled to the portico. The impetuous Galileans would have pursued them to the +steps, but Ben-Hur wisely restrained them. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, my men!” he said. “The centurion yonder is coming with +the guard. They have swords and shields; we cannot fight them. We have done +well; let us get back and out of the gate while we may.” +</p> + +<p> +They obeyed him, though slowly; for they had frequently to step over their +countrymen lying where they had been felled; some writhing and groaning, some +praying help, others mute as the dead. But the fallen were not all Jews. In +that there was consolation. +</p> + +<p> +The centurion shouted to them as they went off; Ben-Hur laughed at him, and +replied in his own tongue, “If we are dogs of Israel, you are jackals of +Rome. Remain here, and we will come again.” +</p> + +<p> +The Galileans cheered, and laughing went on. +</p> + +<p> +Outside the gate there was a multitude the like of which Ben-Hur had never +seen, not even in the circus at Antioch. The house-tops, the streets, the slope +of the hill, appeared densely covered with people wailing and praying. The air +was filled with their cries and imprecations. +</p> + +<p> +The party were permitted to pass without challenge by the outer guard. But +hardly were they out before the centurion in charge at the portico appeared, +and in the gateway called to Ben-Hur, +</p> + +<p> +“Ho, insolent! Art thou a Roman or a Jew?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur answered, “I am a son of Judah, born here. What wouldst thou with +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stay and fight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Singly?” +</p> + +<p> +“As thou wilt!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur laughed derisively. +</p> + +<p> +“O brave Roman! Worthy son of the bastard Roman Jove! I have no +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou shalt have mine,” the centurion answered. “I will +borrow of the guard here.” +</p> + +<p> +The people in hearing of the colloquy became silent; and from them the hush +spread afar. But lately Ben-Hur had beaten a Roman under the eyes of Antioch +and the Farther East; now, could he beat another one under the eyes of +Jerusalem, the honor might be vastly profitable to the cause of the New King. +He did not hesitate. Going frankly to the centurion, he said, “I am +willing. Lend me thy sword and shield.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the helm and breastplate?” asked the Roman. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep them. They might not fit me.” +</p> + +<p> +The arms were as frankly delivered, and directly the centurion was ready. All +this time the soldiers in rank close by the gate never moved; they simply +listened. As to the multitude, only when the combatants advanced to begin the +fight the question sped from mouth to mouth, “Who is he?” And no +one knew. +</p> + +<p> +Now the Roman supremacy in arms lay in three things—submission to +discipline, the legionary formation of battle, and a peculiar use of the short +sword. In combat, they never struck or cut; from first to last they +thrust—they advanced thrusting, they retired thrusting; and generally +their aim was at the foeman’s face. All this was well known to Ben-Hur. +As they were about to engage he said, +</p> + +<p> +“I told thee I was a son of Judah; but I did not tell that I am +lanista-taught. Defend thyself!” +</p> + +<p> +At the last word Ben-Hur closed with his antagonist. A moment, standing foot to +foot, they glared at each other over the rims of their embossed shields; then +the Roman pushed forward and feinted an under-thrust. The Jew laughed at him. A +thrust at the face followed. The Jew stepped lightly to the left; quick as the +thrust was, the step was quicker. Under the lifted arm of the foe he slid his +shield, advancing it until the sword and sword-arm were both caught on its +upper surface; another step, this time forward and left, and the man’s +whole right side was offered to the point. The centurion fell heavily on his +breast, clanging the pavement, and Ben-Hur had won. With his foot upon his +enemy’s back, he raised his shield overhead after a gladiatorial custom, +and saluted the imperturbable soldiers by the gate. +</p> + +<p> +When the people realized the victory they behaved like mad. On the houses far +as the Xystus, fast as the word could fly, they waved their shawls and +handkerchiefs and shouted; and if he had consented, the Galileans would have +carried Ben-Hur off upon their shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +To a petty officer who then advanced from the gate he said, “Thy comrade +died like a soldier. I leave him undespoiled. Only his sword and shield are +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +With that, he walked away. Off a little he spoke to the Galileans. +</p> + +<p> +“Brethren, you have behaved well. Let us now separate, lest we be +pursued. Meet me to-night at the khan in Bethany. I have something to propose +to you of great interest to Israel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” they asked him. +</p> + +<p> +“A son of Judah,” he answered, simply. +</p> + +<p> +A throng eager to see him surged around the party. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come to Bethany?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we will come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then bring with you this sword and shield that I may know you.” +</p> + +<p> +Pushing brusquely through the increasing crowd, he speedily disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +At the instance of Pilate, the people went up from the city, and carried off +their dead and wounded, and there was much mourning for them; but the grief was +greatly lightened by the victory of the unknown champion, who was everywhere +sought, and by every one extolled. The fainting spirit of the nation was +revived by the brave deed; insomuch that in the streets and up in the Temple +even, amidst the solemnities of the feast, old tales of the Maccabees were told +again, and thousands shook their heads whispering wisely, +</p> + +<p> +“A little longer, only a little longer, brethren, and Israel will come to +her own. Let there be faith in the Lord, and patience.” +</p> + +<p> +In such manner Ben-Hur obtained hold on Galilee, and paved the way to greater +services in the cause of the King Who Was Coming. +</p> + +<p> +And with what result we shall see. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book07"></a>BOOK SEVENTH</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“And, waking, I beheld her there<br> +Sea-dreaming in the moted air,<br> +A siren lithe and debonair,<br> +With wristlets woven of scarlet weeds,<br> +And oblong lucent amber beads<br> +Of sea-kelp shining in her hair.”<br> +<br> +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap67"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +The meeting took place in the khan of Bethany as appointed. Thence Ben-Hur went +with the Galileans into their country, where his exploits up in the old +Market-place gave him fame and influence. Before the winter was gone he raised +three legions, and organized them after the Roman pattern. He could have had as +many more, for the martial spirit of that gallant people never slept. The +proceeding, however, required careful guarding as against both Rome and Herod +Antipas. Contenting himself for the present with the three, he strove to train +and educate them for systematic action. For that purpose he carried the +officers over into the lava-beds of Trachonitis, and taught them the use of +arms, particularly the javelin and sword, and the manoeuvering peculiar to the +legionary formation; after which he sent them home as teachers. And soon the +training became a pastime of the people. +</p> + +<p> +As may be thought, the task called for patience, skill, zeal, faith, and +devotion on his part—qualities into which the power of inspiring others +in matters of difficulty is always resolvable; and never man possessed them in +greater degree or used them to better effect. How he labored! And with utter +denial of self! Yet withal he would have failed but for the support he had from +Simonides, who furnished him arms and money, and from Ilderim, who kept watch +and brought him supplies. And still he would have failed but for the genius of +the Galileans. +</p> + +<p> +Under that name were comprehended the four tribes—Asher, Zebulon, +Issachar, and Naphthali—and the districts originally set apart to them. +The Jew born in sight of the Temple despised these brethren of the north; but +the Talmud itself has said, “The Galilean loves honor, and the Jew +money.” +</p> + +<p> +Hating Rome fervidly as they loved their own country, in every revolt they were +first in the field and last to leave it. One hundred and fifty thousand +Galilean youths perished in the final war with Rome. For the great festal days, +they went up to Jerusalem marching and camping like armies; yet they were +liberal in sentiment, and even tolerant to heathenism. In Herod’s +beautiful cities, which were Roman in all things, in Sepphoris and Tiberias +especially, they took pride, and in the building them gave loyal support. They +had for fellow-citizens men from the outside world everywhere, and lived in +peace with them. To the glory of the Hebrew name they contributed poets like +the singer of the Song of Songs and prophets like Hosea. +</p> + +<p> +Upon such a people, so quick, so proud, so brave, so devoted, so imaginative, a +tale like that of the coming of the King was all-powerful. That he was coming +to put Rome down would have been sufficient to enlist them in the scheme +proposed by Ben-Hur; but when, besides, they were assured he was to rule the +world, more mighty than Cæsar, more magnificent than Solomon, and that the +rule was to last forever, the appeal was irresistible, and they vowed +themselves to the cause body and soul. They asked Ben-Hur his authority for the +sayings, and he quoted the prophets, and told them of Balthasar in waiting over +in Antioch; and they were satisfied, for it was the old much-loved legend of +the Messiah, familiar to them almost as the name of the Lord; the +long-cherished dream with a time fixed for its realization. The King was not +merely coming now; he was at hand. +</p> + +<p> +So with Ben-Hur the winter months rolled by, and spring came, with gladdening +showers blown over from the summering sea in the west; and by that time so +earnestly and successfully had he toiled that he could say to himself and his +followers, “Let the good King come. He has only to tell us where he will +have his throne set up. We have the sword-hands to keep it for him.” +</p> + +<p> +And in all his dealings with the many men they knew him only as a son of Judah, +and by that name. +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +One evening, over in Trachonitis, Ben-Hur was sitting with some of his +Galileans at the mouth of the cave in which he quartered, when an Arab courier +rode to him, and delivered a letter. Breaking the package, he read, +</p> + +<p> +“Jerusalem, Nisan IV. +</p> + +<p> +“A prophet has appeared who men say is Elias. He has been in the +wilderness for years, and to our eyes he is a prophet; and such also is his +speech, the burden of which is of one much greater than himself, who, he says, +is to come presently, and for whom he is now waiting on the eastern shore of +the River Jordan. I have been to see and hear him, and the one he is waiting +for is certainly the King you are awaiting. Come and judge for yourself. +</p> + +<p> +“All Jerusalem is going out to the prophet, and with many people else the +shore on which he abides is like Mount Olivet in the last days of the Passover. +</p> + +<p> +“MALLUCH.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur’s face flushed with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“By this word, O my friends,” he said—“by this word, +our waiting is at end. The herald of the King has appeared and announced +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon hearing the letter read, they also rejoiced at the promise it held out. +</p> + +<p> +“Get ready now,” he added, “and in the morning set your faces +homeward; when arrived there, send word to those under you, and bid them be +ready to assemble as I may direct. For myself and you, I will go see if the +King be indeed at hand, and send you report. Let us, in the meantime, live in +the pleasure of the promise.” +</p> + +<p> +Going into the cave, he addressed a letter to Ilderim, and another to +Simonides, giving notice of the news received, and of his purpose to go up +immediately to Jerusalem. The letters he despatched by swift messengers. When +night fell, and the stars of direction came out, he mounted, and with an Arab +guide set out for the Jordan, intending to strike the track of the caravans +between Rabbath-Ammon and Damascus. +</p> + +<p> +The guide was sure, and Aldebaran swift; so by midnight the two were out of the +lava fastness speeding southward. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap68"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +It was Ben-Hur’s purpose to turn aside at the break of day, and find a +safe place in which to rest; but the dawn overtook him while out in the Desert, +and he kept on, the guide promising to bring him afterwhile to a vale shut in +by great rocks, where there were a spring, some mulberry-trees, and herbage in +plenty for the horses. +</p> + +<p> +As he rode thinking of the wondrous events so soon to happen, and of the +changes they were to bring about in the affairs of men and nations, the guide, +ever on the alert, called attention to an appearance of strangers behind them. +Everywhere around the Desert stretched away in waves of sand, slowly yellowing +in the growing light, and without any green thing visible. Over on the left, +but still far off, a range of low mountains extended, apparently interminable. +In the vacancy of such a waste an object in motion could not long continue a +mystery. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a camel with riders,” the guide said, directly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are there others behind?” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“It is alone. No, there is a man on horseback—the driver, +probably.” +</p> + +<p> +A little later Ben-Hur himself could see the camel was white and unusually +large, reminding him of the wonderful animal he had seen bring Balthasar and +Iras to the fountain in the Grove of Daphne. There could be no other like it. +Thinking then of the fair Egyptian, insensibly his gait became slower, and at +length fell into the merest loiter, until finally he could discern a curtained +houdah, and two persons seated within it. If they were Balthasar and Iras! +Should he make himself known to them? But it could not be: this was the +Desert—and they were alone. But while he debated the question the long +swinging stride of the camel brought its riders up to him. He heard the ringing +of the tiny bells, and beheld the rich housings which had been so attractive to +the crowd at the Castalian fount. He beheld also the Ethiopian, always +attendant upon the Egyptians. The tall brute stopped close by his horse, and +Ben-Hur, looking up, lo! Iras herself under the raised curtain looking down at +him, her great swimming eyes bright with astonishment and inquiry! +</p> + +<p> +“The blessing of the true God upon you!” said Balthasar, in his +tremulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +“And to thee and thine be the peace of the Lord,” Ben-Hur replied. +</p> + +<p> +“My eyes are weak with years,” said Balthasar; “but they +approve you that son of Hur whom lately I knew an honored guest in the tent of +Ilderim the Generous.” +</p> + +<p> +“And thou art that Balthasar, the wise Egyptian, whose speech concerning +certain holy things in expectation is having so much to do with the finding me +in this waste place. What dost thou here?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is never alone who is where God is—and God is +everywhere,” Balthasar answered, gravely; “but in the sense of your +asking, there is a caravan short way behind us going to Alexandria; and as it +is to pass through Jerusalem, I thought best to avail myself of its company as +far as the Holy City, whither I am journeying. This morning, however, in +discontent with its slow movement—slower because of a Roman cohort in +attendance upon it—we rose early, and ventured thus far in advance. As to +robbers along the way, we are not afraid, for I have here a signet of Sheik +Ilderim; against beasts of prey, God is our sufficient trust.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur bowed and said, “The good sheik’s signet is a safeguard +wherever the wilderness extends, and the lion shall be swift that overtakes +this king of his kind.” +</p> + +<p> +He patted the neck of the camel as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” said Iras, with a smile which was not lost upon the youth, +whose eyes, it must be admitted, had several times turned to her during the +interchange of speeches with the elder—“Yet even he would be better +if his fast were broken. Kings have hunger and headaches. If you be, indeed, +the Ben-Hur of whom my father has spoken, and whom it was my pleasure to have +known as well, you will be happy, I am sure, to show us some near path to +living water, that with its sparkle we may grace a morning’s meal in the +Desert.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur, nothing loath, hastened to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Fair Egyptian, I give you sympathy. Can you bear suffering a little +longer, we will find the spring you ask for, and I promise that its draught +shall be as sweet and cooling as that of the more famous Castalia. With leave, +we will make haste.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give you the blessing of the thirsty,” she replied; “and +offer you in return a bit of bread from the city ovens, dipped in fresh butter +from the dewy meadows of Damascus.” +</p> + +<p> +“A most rare favor! Let us go on.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, Ben-Hur rode forward with the guide, one of the inconveniences of +travelling with camels being that it is necessarily an interdiction of polite +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwhile the party came to a shallow wady, down which, turning to the right +hand, the guide led them. The bed of the cut was somewhat soft from recent +rains, and quite bold in its descent. Momentarily, however, it widened; and +erelong the sides became bluffs ribbed with rocks much scarred by floods +rushing to lower depths ahead. Finally, from a narrow passage, the travellers +entered a spreading vale which was very delightful; but come upon suddenly from +the yellow, unrelieved, verdureless plain, it had the effect of a freshly +discovered Paradise. The water-channels winding here and there, definable by +crisp white shingling, appeared like threads tangled among islands green with +grasses and fringed with reeds. Up from the final depths of the valley of the +Jordan some venturous oleanders had crept, and with their large bloom now +starred the sunken place. One palm-tree arose in royal assertion. The bases of +the boundary-walls were cloaked with clambering vines, and under a leaning +cliff over on the left the mulberry grove had planted itself, proclaiming the +spring which the party were seeking. And thither the guide conducted them, +careless of whistling partridges and lesser birds of brighter hues roused +whirring from the reedy coverts. +</p> + +<p> +The water started from a crack in the cliff which some loving hand had enlarged +into an arched cavity. Graven over it in bold Hebraic letters was the word GOD. +The graver had no doubt drunk there, and tarried many days, and given thanks in +that durable form. From the arch the stream ran merrily over a flag spotted +with bright moss, and leaped into a pool glassy clear; thence it stole away +between grassy banks, nursing the trees before it vanished in the thirsty sand. +A few narrow paths were noticeable about the margin of the pool; otherwise the +space around was untrodden turf, at sight of which the guide was assured of +rest free from intrusion by men. The horses were presently turned loose, and +from the kneeling camel the Ethiopian assisted Balthasar and Iras; whereupon +the old man, turning his face to the east, crossed his hands reverently upon +his breast and prayed. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me a cup,” Iras said, with some impatience. +</p> + +<p> +From the houdah the slave brought her a crystal goblet; then she said to +Ben-Hur, +</p> + +<p> +“I will be your servant at the fountain.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked to the pool together. He would have dipped the water for her, but +she refused his offer, and kneeling, held the cup to be filled by the stream +itself; nor yet content, when it was cooled and overrunning, she tendered him +the first draught. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, putting the graceful hand aside, and seeing only the +large eyes half hidden beneath the arches of the upraised brows, “be the +service mine, I pray.” +</p> + +<p> +She persisted in having her way. +</p> + +<p> +“In my country, O son of Hur, we have a saying, ‘Better a cupbearer +to the fortunate than minister to a king.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Fortunate!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +There were both surprise and inquiry in the tone of his voice and in his look, +and she said quickly, +</p> + +<p> +“The gods give us success as a sign by which we may know them on our +side. Were you not winner in the Circus?” +</p> + +<p> +His cheeks began to flush. +</p> + +<p> +“That was one sign. There is another. In a combat with swords you slew a +Roman.” +</p> + +<p> +The flush deepened—not so much for the triumphs themselves as the +flattery there was in the thought that she had followed his career with +interest. A moment, and the pleasure was succeeded by a reflection. The combat, +he knew, was matter of report throughout the East; but the name of the victor +had been committed to a very few—Malluch, Ilderim, and Simonides. Could +they have made a confidante of the woman? So with wonder and gratification he +was confused; and seeing it, she arose and said, holding the cup over the pool, +</p> + +<p> +“O gods of Egypt! I give thanks for a hero discovered—thanks that +the victim in the Palace of Idernee was not my king of men. And so, O holy +gods, I pour and drink.” +</p> + +<p> +Part of the contents of the cup she returned to the stream, the rest she drank. +When she took the crystal from her lips, she laughed at him. +</p> + +<p> +“O son of Hur, is it a fashion of the very brave to be so easily overcome +by a woman? Take the cup now, and see if you cannot find a happy word in it for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the cup, and stooped to refill it. +</p> + +<p> +“A son of Israel has no gods whom he can libate,” he said, playing +with the water to hide his amazement, now greater than before. What more did +the Egyptian know about him? Had she been told of his relations with Simonides? +And there was the treaty with Ilderim—had she knowledge of that also? He +was struck with mistrust. Somebody had betrayed his secrets, and they were +serious. And, besides, he was going to Jerusalem, just then of all the world +the place where such intelligence possessed by an enemy might be most dangerous +to him, his associates, and the cause. But was she an enemy? It is well for us +that, while writing is slow, thought is instantaneous. When the cup was fairly +cooled, he filled it and arose, saying, with indifference well affected, +</p> + +<p> +“Most fair, were I an Egyptian or a Greek or a Roman, I would +say”—he raised the goblet overhead as he spoke—“O ye +better gods! I give thanks that there are yet left to the world, despite its +wrongs and sufferings, the charm of beauty and the solace of love, and I drink +to her who best represents them—to Iras, loveliest of the daughters of +the Nile!” +</p> + +<p> +She laid her hand softly upon his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“You have offended against the law. The gods you have drunk to are false +gods. Why shall I not tell the rabbis on you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” he replied, laughing, “that is very little to tell for +one who knows so much else that is really important.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will go further—I will go to the little Jewess who makes the +roses grow and the shadows flame in the house of the great merchant over in +Antioch. To the rabbis I will accuse you of impenitence; to her—” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will repeat what you have said to me under the lifted cup, with the +gods for witnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +He was still a moment, as if waiting for the Egyptian to go on. With quickened +fancy he saw Esther at her father’s side listening to the despatches he +had forwarded—sometimes reading them. In her presence he had told +Simonides the story of the affair in the Palace of Idernee. She and Iras were +acquainted; this one was shrewd and worldly; the other was simple and +affectionate, and therefore easily won. Simonides could not have broken +faith—nor Ilderim—for if not held by honor, there was no one, +unless it might be himself, to whom the consequences of exposure were more +serious and certain. Could Esther have been the Egyptian’s informant? He +did not accuse her; yet a suspicion was sown with the thought, and suspicions, +as we all know, are weeds of the mind which grow of themselves, and most +rapidly when least wanted. Before he could answer the allusion to the little +Jewess, Balthasar came to the pool. +</p> + +<p> +“We are greatly indebted to you, son of Hur,” he said, in his grave +manner. “This vale is very beautiful; the grass, the trees, the shade, +invite us to stay and rest, and the spring here has the sparkle of diamonds in +motion, and sings to me of a loving God. It is not enough to thank you for the +enjoyment we find; come sit with us, and taste our bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suffer me first to serve you.” +</p> + +<p> +With that Ben-Hur filled the goblet, and gave it to Balthasar, who lifted his +eyes in thanksgiving. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately the slave brought napkins; and after laving their hands and drying +them, the three seated themselves in Eastern style under the tent which years +before had served the Wise Men at the meeting in the Desert. And they ate +heartily of the good things taken from the camel’s pack. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap69"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +The tent was cosily pitched beneath a tree where the gurgle of the stream was +constantly in ear. Overhead the broad leaves hung motionless on their stems; +the delicate reed-stalks off in the pearly haze stood up arrowy-straight; +occasionally a home-returning bee shot humming athwart the shade, and a +partridge creeping from the sedge drank, whistled to his mate, and ran away. +The restfulness of the vale, the freshness of the air, the garden beauty, the +Sabbath stillness, seemed to have affected the spirits of the elder Egyptian; +his voice, gestures, and whole manner were unusually gentle; and often as he +bent his eyes upon Ben-Hur conversing with Iras, they softened with pity. +</p> + +<p> +“When we overtook you, son of Hur,” he said, at the conclusion of +the repast, “it seemed your face was also turned towards Jerusalem. May I +ask, without offence, if you are going so far?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to the Holy City.” +</p> + +<p> +“For the great need I have to spare myself prolonged toil, I will further +ask you, Is there a shorter road than that by Rabbath-Ammon?” +</p> + +<p> +“A rougher route, but shorter, lies by Gerasa and Rabbath-Gilead. It is +the one I design taking.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am impatient,” said Balthasar. “Latterly my sleep has been +visited by dreams—or rather by the same dream in repetition. A +voice—it is nothing more—comes and tells me, +‘Haste—arise! He whom thou hast so long awaited is at +hand.’” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean he that is to be King of the Jews?” Ben-Hur asked, gazing +at the Egyptian in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“Even so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have heard nothing of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, except the words of the voice in the dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, then, are tidings to make you glad as they made me.” +</p> + +<p> +From his gown Ben-Hur drew the letter received from Malluch. The hand the +Egyptian held out trembled violently. He read aloud, and as he read his +feelings increased; the limp veins in his neck swelled and throbbed. At the +conclusion he raised his suffused eyes in thanksgiving and prayer. He asked no +questions, yet had no doubts. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou hast been very good to me, O God,” he said. “Give me, I +pray thee, to see the Saviour again, and worship him, and thy servant will be +ready to go in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +The words, the manner, the singular personality of the simple prayer, touched +Ben-Hur with a sensation new and abiding. God never seemed so actual and so +near by; it was as if he were there bending over them or sitting at their +side—a Friend whose favors were to be had by the most unceremonious +asking—a Father to whom all his children were alike in love—Father, +not more of the Jew than of the Gentile—the Universal Father, who needed +no intermediates, no rabbis, no priests, no teachers. The idea that such a God +might send mankind a Saviour instead of a king appeared to Ben-Hur in a light +not merely new, but so plain that he could almost discern both the greater want +of such a gift and its greater consistency with the nature of such a Deity. So +he could not resist asking, +</p> + +<p> +“Now that he has come, O Balthasar, you still think he is to be a +Saviour, and not a king?” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar gave him a look thoughtful as it was tender. +</p> + +<p> +“How shall I understand you?” he asked, in return. “The +Spirit, which was the Star that was my guide of old, has not appeared to me +since I met you in the tent of the good sheik; that is to say, I have not seen +or heard it as formerly. I believe the voice that spoke to me in my dreams was +it; but other than that I have no revelation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will recall the difference between us,” said Ben-Hur, with +deference. “You were of opinion that he would be a king, but not as +Cæsar is; you thought his sovereignty would be spiritual, not of the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” the Egyptian answered; “and I am of the same +opinion now. I see the divergence in our faith. You are going to meet a king of +men, I a Saviour of souls.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused with the look often seen when people are struggling, with introverted +effort, to disentangle a thought which is either too high for quick discernment +or too subtle for simple expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me try, O son of Hur,” he said, directly, “and help you +to a clear understanding of my belief; then it may be, seeing how the spiritual +kingdom I expect him to set up can be more excellent in every sense than +anything of mere Cæsarean splendor, you will better understand the reason of +the interest I take in the mysterious person we are going to welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you when the idea of a Soul in every man had its origin. +Most likely the first parents brought it with them out of the garden in which +they had their first dwelling. We all do know, however, that it has never +perished entirely out of mind. By some peoples it was lost, but not by all; in +some ages it dulled and faded, in others it was overwhelmed with doubts; but, +in great goodness, God kept sending us at intervals mighty intellects to argue +it back to faith and hope. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should there be a Soul in every man? Look, O son of Hur—for +one moment look at the necessity of such a device. To lie down and die, and be +no more—no more forever—time never was when man wished for such an +end; nor has the man ever been who did not in his heart promise himself +something better. The monuments of the nations are all protests against +nothingness after death; so are statues and inscriptions; so is history. The +greatest of our Egyptian kings had his effigy cut-out of a hill of solid rock. +Day after day he went with a host in chariots to see the work; at last it was +finished, never effigy so grand, so enduring: it looked like him—the +features were his, faithful even in expression. Now may we not think of him +saying in that moment of pride, ‘Let Death come; there is an after-life +for me!’ He had his wish. The statue is there yet. +</p> + +<p> +“But what is the after-life he thus secured? Only a recollection by +men—a glory unsubstantial as moonshine on the brow of the great bust; a +story in stone—nothing more. Meantime what has become of the king? There +is an embalmed body up in the royal tombs which once was his—an effigy +not so fair to look at as the other out in the Desert. But where, O son of Hur, +where is the king himself? Is he fallen into nothingness? Two thousand years +have gone since he was a man alive as you and I are. Was his last breath the +end of him? +</p> + +<p> +“To say yes would be to accuse God; let us rather accept his better plan +of attaining life after death for us—actual life, I mean—the +something more than a place in mortal memory; life with going and coming, with +sensation, with knowledge, with power and all appreciation; life eternal in +term though it may be with changes of condition. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask you what God’s plan is? The gift of a Soul to each of us at +birth, with this simple law—there shall be no immortality except through +the Soul. In that law see the necessity of which I spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us turn from the necessity now. A word as to the pleasure there is +in the thought of a Soul in each of us. In the first place, it robs death of +its terrors by making dying a change for the better, and burial but the +planting of a seed from which there will spring a new life. In the next place, +behold me as I am—weak, weary, old, shrunken in body, and graceless; look +at my wrinkled face, think of my failing senses, listen to my shrilled voice. +Ah! what happiness to me in the promise that when the tomb opens, as soon it +will, to receive the worn-out husk I call myself, the now viewless doors of the +universe, which is but the palace of God, will swing wide ajar to receive me, a +liberated immortal Soul! +</p> + +<p> +“I would I could tell the ecstasy there must be in that life to come! Do +not say I know nothing about it. This much I know, and it is enough for +me—the being a Soul implies conditions of divine superiority. In such a +being there is no dust, nor any gross thing; it must be finer than air, more +impalpable than light, purer than essence—it is life in absolute purity. +</p> + +<p> +“What now, O son of Hur? Knowing so much, shall I dispute with myself or +you about the unnecessaries—about the form of my soul? Or where it is to +abide? Or whether it eats and drinks? Or is winged, or wears this or that? No. +It is more becoming to trust in God. The beautiful in this world is all from +his hand declaring the perfection of taste; he is the author of all form; he +clothes the lily, he colors the rose, he distils the dew-drop, he makes the +music of nature; in a word, he organized us for this life, and imposed its +conditions; and they are such guaranty to me that, trustful as a little child, +I leave to him the organization of my Soul, and every arrangement for the life +after death. I know he loves me.” +</p> + +<p> +The good man stopped and drank, and the hand carrying the cup to his lips +trembled; and both Iras and Ben-Hur shared his emotion and remained silent. +Upon the latter a light was breaking. He was beginning to see, as never before, +that there might be a spiritual kingdom of more import to men than any earthly +empire; and that after all a Saviour would indeed be a more godly gift than the +greatest king. +</p> + +<p> +“I might ask you now,” said Balthasar, continuing, “whether +this human life, so troubled and brief, is preferable to the perfect and +everlasting life designed for the Soul? But take the question, and think of it +for yourself, formulating thus: Supposing both to be equally happy, is one hour +more desirable than one year? From that then advance to the final inquiry, what +are threescore and ten years on earth to all eternity with God? By-and-by, son +of Hur, thinking in such manner, you will be filled with the meaning of the +fact I present you next, to me the most amazing of all events, and in its +effects the most sorrowful; it is that the very idea of life as a Soul is a +light almost gone out in the world. Here and there, to be sure, a philosopher +may be found who will talk to you of a Soul, likening it to a principle; but +because philosophers take nothing upon faith, they will not go the length of +admitting a Soul to be a being, and on that account its purpose is compressed +darkness to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything animate has a mind measurable by its wants. Is there to you +no meaning in the singularity that power in full degree to speculate upon the +future was given to man alone? By the sign as I see it, God meant to make us +know ourselves created for another and a better life, such being in fact the +greatest need of our nature. But, alas! into what a habit the nations have +fallen! They live for the day, as if the present were the all in all, and go +about saying, ‘There is no to-morrow after death; or if there be, since +we know nothing about it, be it a care unto itself.’ So when Death calls +them, ‘Come,’ they may not enter into enjoyment of the glorious +after-life because of their unfitness. That is to say, the ultimate happiness +of man was everlasting life in the society of God. Alas, O son of Hur, that I +should say it! but as well yon sleeping camel constant in such society as the +holiest priests this day serving the highest altars in the most renowned +temples. So much are men given to this lower earthly life! So nearly have they +forgotten that other which is to come! +</p> + +<p> +“See now, I pray you, that which is to be saved to us. +</p> + +<p> +“For my part, speaking with the holiness of truth, I would not give one +hour of life as a Soul for a thousand years of life as a man.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the Egyptian seemed to become unconscious of companionship and fall away +into abstraction. +</p> + +<p> +“This life has its problems,” he said, “and there are men who +spend their days trying to solve them; but what are they to the problems of the +hereafter? What is there like knowing God? Not a scroll of the mysteries, but +the mysteries themselves would for that hour at least lie before me revealed; +even the innermost and most awful—the power which now we shrink from +thought of—which rimmed the void with shores, and lighted the darkness, +and out of nothing appointed the universe. All places would be opened. I would +be filled with divine knowledge; I would see all glories, taste all delights; I +would revel in being. And if, at the end of the hour, it should please God to +tell me, ‘I take thee into my service forever,’ the furthest limit +of desire would be passed; after which the attainable ambitions of life, and +its joys of whatever kind, would not be so much as the tinkling of little +bells.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar paused as if to recover from very ecstasy of feeling; and to Ben-Hur +it seemed the speech had been the delivery of a Soul speaking for itself. +</p> + +<p> +“I pray pardon, son of Hur,” the good man continued, with a bow the +gravity of which was relieved by the tender look that followed it, “I +meant to leave the life of a Soul, its conditions, pleasures, superiority, to +your own reflection and finding out. The joy of the thought has betrayed me +into much speech. I set out to show, though ever so faintly, the reason of my +faith. It grieves me that words are so weak. But help yourself to truth. +Consider first the excellence of the existence which was reserved for us after +death, and give heed to the feelings and impulses the thought is sure to awaken +in you—heed them, I say, because they are your own Soul astir, doing what +it can to urge you in the right way. Consider next that the afterlife has +become so obscured as to justify calling it a lost light. If you find it, +rejoice, O son of Hur—rejoice as I do, though in beggary of words. For +then, besides the great gift which is to be saved to us, you will have found +the need of a Saviour so infinitely greater than the need of a king; and he we +are going to meet will not longer hold place in your hope a warrior with a +sword or a monarch with a crown. +</p> + +<p> +“A practical question presents itself—How shall we know him at +sight? If you continue in your belief as to his character—that he is to +be a king as Herod was—of course you will keep on until you meet a man +clothed in purple and with a sceptre. On the other hand, he I look for will be +one poor, humble, undistinguished—a man in appearance as other men; and +the sign by which I will know him will be never so simple. He will offer to +show me and all mankind the way to the eternal life; the beautiful pure Life of +the Soul.” +</p> + +<p> +The company sat a moment in silence which was broken by Balthasar. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us arise now,” he said—“let us arise and set +forward again. What I have said has caused a return of impatience to see him +who is ever in my thought; and if I seem to hurry you, O son of Hur—and +you, my daughter—be that my excuse.” +</p> + +<p> +At his signal the slave brought them wine in a skin bottle; and they poured and +drank, and shaking the lap-cloths out arose. +</p> + +<p> +While the slave restored the tent and wares to the box under the houdah, and +the Arab brought up the horses, the three principals laved themselves in the +pool. +</p> + +<p> +In a little while they were retracing their steps back through the wady, +intending to overtake the caravan if it had passed them by. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap70"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +The caravan, stretched out upon the Desert, was very picturesque; in motion, +however, it was like a lazy serpent. By-and-by its stubborn dragging became +intolerably irksome to Balthasar, patient as he was; so, at his suggestion, the +party determined to go on by themselves. +</p> + +<p> +If the reader be young, or if he has yet a sympathetic recollection of the +romanticisms of his youth, he will relish the pleasure with which Ben-Hur, +riding near the camel of the Egyptians, gave a last look at the head of the +straggling column almost out of sight on the shimmering plain. +</p> + +<p> +To be definite as may be, and perfectly confidential, Ben-Hur found a certain +charm in Iras’s presence. If she looked down upon him from her high +place, he made haste to get near her; if she spoke to him, his heart beat out +of its usual time. The desire to be agreeable to her was a constant impulse. +Objects on the way, though ever so common, became interesting the moment she +called attention to them; a black swallow in the air pursued by her pointing +finger went off in a halo; if a bit of quartz or a flake of mica was seen to +sparkle in the drab sand under kissing of the sun, at a word he turned aside +and brought it to her; and if she threw it away in disappointment, far from +thinking of the trouble he had been put to, he was sorry it proved so +worthless, and kept a lookout for something better—a ruby, perchance a +diamond. So the purple of the far mountains became intensely deep and rich if +she distinguished it with an exclamation of praise; and when, now and then, the +curtain of the houdah fell down, it seemed a sudden dulness had dropped from +the sky bedraggling all the landscape. Thus disposed, yielding to the sweet +influence, what shall save him from the dangers there are in days of the close +companionship with the fair Egyptian incident to the solitary journey they were +entered upon? +</p> + +<p> +For that there is no logic in love, nor the least mathematical element, it is +simply natural that she shall fashion the result who has the wielding of the +influence. +</p> + +<p> +To quicken the conclusion, there were signs, too, that she well knew the +influence she was exercising over him. From some place under hand she had since +morning drawn a caul of golden coins, and adjusted it so the gleaming strings +fell over her forehead and upon her cheeks, blending lustrously with the +flowing of her blue-black hair. From the same safe deposit she had also +produced articles of jewelry—rings for finger and ear, bracelets, a +necklace of pearls—also, a shawl embroidered with threads of fine +gold—the effect of all which she softened with a scarf of Indian lace +skillfully folded about her throat and shoulders. And so arrayed, she plied +Ben-Hur with countless coquetries of speech and manner; showering him with +smiles; laughing in flute-like tremolo—and all the while following him +with glances, now melting-tender, now sparkling-bright. By such play Antony was +weaned from his glory; yet she who wrought his ruin was really not half so +beautiful as this her countrywoman. +</p> + +<p> +And so to them the nooning came, and the evening. +</p> + +<p> +The sun at its going down behind a spur of the old Bashan, left the party +halted by a pool of clear water of the rains out in the Abilene Desert. There +the tent was pitched, the supper eaten, and preparations made for the night. +</p> + +<p> +The second watch was Ben-Hur’s; and he was standing, spear in hand, +within arm-reach of the dozing camel, looking awhile at the stars, then over +the veiled land. The stillness was intense; only after long spells a warm +breath of wind would sough past, but without disturbing him, for yet in thought +he entertained the Egyptian, recounting her charms, and sometimes debating how +she came by his secrets, the uses she might make of them, and the course he +should pursue with her. And through all the debate Love stood off but a little +way—a strong temptation, the stronger of a gleam of policy behind. At the +very moment he was most inclined to yield to the allurement, a hand very fair +even in the moonless gloaming was laid softly upon his shoulder. The touch +thrilled him; he started, turned—and she was there. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you asleep,” he said, presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Sleep is for old people and little children, and I came out to look at +my friends, the stars in the south—those now holding the curtains of +midnight over the Nile. But confess yourself surprised!” +</p> + +<p> +He took the hand which had fallen from his shoulder, and said, “Well, was +it by an enemy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! To be an enemy is to hate, and hating is a sickness which Isis +will not suffer to come near me. She kissed me, you should know, on the heart +when I was a child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your speech does not sound in the least like your father’s. Are +you not of his faith?” +</p> + +<p> +“I might have been”—and she laughed low—“I might +have been had I seen what he has. I may be when I get old like him. There +should be no religion for youth, only poetry and philosophy; and no poetry +except such as is the inspiration of wine and mirth and love, and no philosophy +that does not nod excuse for follies which cannot outlive a season. My +father’s God is too awful for me. I failed to find him in the Grove of +Daphne. He was never heard of as present in the atria of Rome. But, son of Hur, +I have a wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“A wish! Where is he who could say it no?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will try you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell it then.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very simple. I wish to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew closer as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed, and replied, lightly, “O Egypt!—I came near saying dear +Egypt!—does not the sphinx abide in your country?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are one of its riddles. Be merciful, and give me a little clew to +help me understand you. In what do I need help? And how can you help me?” +</p> + +<p> +She took her hand from him, and, turning to the camel, spoke to it endearingly, +and patted its monstrous head as it were a thing of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“O thou last and swiftest and stateliest of the herds of Job! Sometimes +thou, too, goest stumbling, because the way is rough and stony and the burden +grievous. How is it thou knowest the kind intent by a word; and always makest +answer gratefully, though the help offered is from a woman? I will kiss thee, +thou royal brute!”—she stooped and touched its broad forehead with +her lips, saying immediately, “because in thy intelligence there is no +suspicion!” +</p> + +<p> +And Ben-Hur, restraining himself, said calmly, “The reproach has not +failed its mark, O Egypt! I seem to say thee no; may it not be because I am +under seal of honor, and by my silence cover the lives and fortunes of +others?” +</p> + +<p> +“May be!” she said, quickly. “It is so.” +</p> + +<p> +He shrank a step, and asked, his voice sharp with amazement, “What all +knowest thou?” +</p> + +<p> +She answered, after a laugh, +</p> + +<p> +“Why do men deny that the senses of women are sharper than theirs? Your +face has been under my eyes all day. I had but to look at it to see you bore +some weight in mind; and to find the weight, what had I to do more than recall +your debates with my father? Son of Hur!”—she lowered her voice +with singular dexterity, and, going nearer, spoke so her breath was warm upon +his cheek—“son of Hur! he thou art going to find is to be King of +the Jews, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +His heart beat fast and hard. +</p> + +<p> +“A King of the Jews like Herod, only greater,” she continued. +</p> + +<p> +He looked away—into the night, up to the stars; then his eyes met hers, +and lingered there; and her breath was on his lips, so near was she. +</p> + +<p> +“Since morning,” she said, further, “we have been having +visions. Now if I tell you mine, will you serve me as well? What! silent +still?” +</p> + +<p> +She pushed his hand away, and turned as if to go; but he caught her, and said, +eagerly, “Stay—stay and speak!” +</p> + +<p> +She went back, and with her hand upon his shoulder, leaned against him; and he +put his arm around her, and drew her close, very close; and in the caress was +the promise she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, and tell me thy visions, O Egypt, dear Egypt! A +prophet—nay, not the Tishbite, not even the Lawgiver—could have +refused an asking of thine. I am at thy will. Be merciful—merciful, I +pray.” +</p> + +<p> +The entreaty passed apparently unheard, for looking up and nestling in his +embrace, she said, slowly, “The vision which followed me was of +magnificent war—war on land and sea—with clashing of arms and rush +of armies, as if Cæsar and Pompey were come again, and Octavius and Antony. A +cloud of dust and ashes arose and covered the world, and Rome was not any more; +all dominion returned to the East; out of the cloud issued another race of +heroes; and there were vaster satrapies and brighter crowns for giving away +than were ever known. And, son of Hur, while the vision was passing, and after +it was gone, I kept asking myself, ‘What shall he not have who served the +King earliest and best?’” +</p> + +<p> +Again Ben-Hur recoiled. The question was the very question which had been with +him all day. Presently he fancied he had the clew he wanted. +</p> + +<p> +“So,” he said, “I have you now. The satrapies and crowns are +the things to which you would help me. I see, I see! And there never was such +queen as you would be, so shrewd, so beautiful, so royal—never! But, +alas, dear Egypt! by the vision as you show it me the prizes are all of war, +and you are but a woman, though Isis did kiss you on the heart. And crowns are +starry gifts beyond your power of help, unless, indeed, you have a way to them +more certain than that of the sword. If so, O Egypt, Egypt, show it me, and I +will walk in it, if only for your sake.” +</p> + +<p> +She removed his arm, and said, “Spread your cloak upon the +sand—here, so I can rest against the camel. I will sit, and tell you a +story which came down the Nile to Alexandria, where I had it.” +</p> + +<p> +He did as she said, first planting the spear in the ground near by. +</p> + +<p> +“And what shall I do?” he said, ruefully, when she was seated. +“In Alexandria is it customary for the listeners to sit or stand?” +</p> + +<p> +From the comfortable place against the old domestic she answered, laughing, +“The audiences of story-tellers are wilful, and sometimes they do as they +please.” +</p> + +<p> +Without more ado he stretched himself upon the sand, and put her arm about his +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And directly she began: +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +HOW THE BEAUTIFUL CAME TO THE EARTH. +</p> + +<p> +“You must know, in the first place, that Isis was—and, for that +matter, she may yet be—the most beautiful of deities; and Osiris, her +husband, though wise and powerful, was sometimes stung with jealousy of her, +for only in their loves are the gods like mortals. +</p> + +<p> +“The palace of the Divine Wife was of silver, crowning the tallest +mountain in the moon, and thence she passed often to the sun, in the heart of +which, a source of eternal light, Osiris kept his palace of gold too shining +for men to look at. +</p> + +<p> +“One time—there are no days with the gods—while she was full +pleasantly with him on the roof of the golden palace, she chanced to look, and +afar, just on the line of the universe, saw Indra passing with an army of +simians, all borne upon the backs of flying eagles. He, the Friend of Living +Things—so with much love is Indra called—was returning from his +final war with the hideous Rakshakas—returning victorious; and in his +suite were Rama, the hero, and Sita, his bride, who, next to Isis herself, was +the very most beautiful. And Isis arose, and took off her girdle of stars, and +waved it to Sita—to Sita, mind you—waved it in glad salute. And +instantly, between the marching host and the two on the golden roof, a +something as of night fell, and shut out the view; but it was not +night—only the frown of Osiris. +</p> + +<p> +“It happened the subject of his speech that moment was such as none else +than they could think of; and he arose, and said, majestically, ‘Get thee +home. I will do the work myself. To make a perfectly happy being I do not need +thy help. Get thee gone.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Now Isis had eyes large as those of the white cow which in the temple +eats sweet grasses from the hands of the faithful even while they say their +prayers; and her eyes were the color of the cows, and quite as tender. And she +too arose and said, smiling as she spoke, so her look was little more than the +glow of the moon in the hazy harvest-month, ‘Farewell, good my lord. You +will call me presently, I know; for without me you cannot make the perfectly +happy creature of which you were thinking, any more’—and she +stopped to laugh, knowing well the truth of the saying—‘any more, +my lord, than you yourself can be perfectly happy without me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘We will see,’ he said. +</p> + +<p> +“And she went her way, and took her needles and her chair, and on the +roof of the silver palace sat watching and knitting. +</p> + +<p> +“And the will of Osiris, at labor in his mighty breast, was as the sound +of the mills of all the other gods grinding at once, so loud that the near +stars rattled like seeds in a parched pod; and some dropped out and were lost. +And while the sound kept on she waited and knit; nor lost she ever a stitch the +while. +</p> + +<p> +“Soon a spot appeared in the space over towards the sun; and it grew +until it was great as the moon, and then she knew a world was intended; but +when, growing and growing, at last it cast her planet in the shade, all save +the little point lighted by her presence, she knew how very angry he was; yet +she knit away, assured that the end would be as she had said. +</p> + +<p> +“And so came the earth, at first but a cold gray mass hanging listless in +the hollow void. Later she saw it separate into divisions; here a plain, there +a mountain, yonder a sea, all as yet without a sparkle. And then, by a +river-bank, something moved; and she stopped her knitting for wonder. The +something arose, and lifted its hands to the sun in sign of knowledge whence it +had its being. And this First Man was beautiful to see. And about him were the +creations we call nature—the grass, the trees, birds, beasts, even the +insects and reptiles. +</p> + +<p> +“And for a time the man went about happy in his life: it was easy to see +how happy he was. And in the lull of the sound of the laboring will Isis heard +a scornful laugh, and presently the words, blown across from the sun, +</p> + +<p> +“‘Thy help, indeed! Behold a creature perfectly happy!’ +</p> + +<p> +“And Isis fell to knitting again, for she was patient as Osiris was +strong; and if he could work, she could wait; and wait she did, knowing that +mere life is not enough to keep anything content. +</p> + +<p> +“And sure enough. Not long until the Divine Wife could see a change in +the man. He grew listless, and kept to one place prone by the river, and looked +up but seldom, and then always with a moody face. Interest was dying in him. +And when she made sure of it, even while she was saying to herself, ‘The +creature is sick of his being,’ there was a roar of the creative will at +work again, and in a twinkling the earth, theretofore all a thing of coldest +gray, flamed with colors; the mountains swam in purple, the plains bearing +grass and trees turned green, the sea blue, and the clouds varied +infinitely.” +</p> + +<p> +And the man sprang up and clapped his hands, for he was cured and happy again. +</p> + +<p> +“And Isis smiled, and knit away, saying to herself, ‘It was well +thought, and will do a little while; but mere beauty in a world is not enough +for such a being. My lord must try again.’ +</p> + +<p> +“With the last word, the thunder of the will at work shook the moon, and, +looking, Isis dropped her knitting and clapped her hands; for theretofore +everything on the earth but the man had been fixed to a given place; now all +living, and much that was not living, received the gift of Motion. The birds +took to wing joyously; beasts great and small went about, each in its way; the +trees shook their verdurous branches, nodding to the enamoured winds; the +rivers ran to the seas, and the seas tossed in their beds and rolled in crested +waves, and with surging and ebbing painted the shores with glistening foam; and +over all the clouds floated like sailed ships unanchored. +</p> + +<p> +“And the man rose up happy as a child; whereat Osiris was pleased, so +that he shouted, ‘Ha, ha! See how well I am doing without thee!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The good wife took up her work, and answered ever so quietly, ‘It +was well thought, my lord—ever so well thought—and will serve +awhile.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And as before, so again. The sight of things in motion became to the man +as of course. The birds in flight, the rivers running, the seas in tumult of +action, ceased to amuse him, and he pined again even worse. +</p> + +<p> +“And Isis waited, saying to herself, ‘Poor creature! He is more +wretched than ever.’ +</p> + +<p> +“And, as if he heard the thought, Osiris stirred, and the noise of his +will shook the universe; the sun in its central seat alone stood firm. And Isis +looked, but saw no change; then while she was smiling, assured that her +lord’s last invention was sped, suddenly the creature arose, and seemed +to listen; and his face brightened, and he clapped his hands for joy, for +Sounds were heard the first time on earth—sounds dissonant, sounds +harmonious. The winds murmured in the trees; the birds sang, each kind a song +of its own, or chattered in speech; the rivulets running to the rivers became +so many harpers with harps of silver strings all tinkling together; and the +rivers running to the seas surged on in solemn accord, while the seas beat the +land to a tune of thunder. There was music, music everywhere, and all the time; +so the man could not but be happy. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Isis mused, thinking how well, how wondrous well, her lord was +doing; but presently she shook her head: Color, Motion, Sound—and she +repeated them slowly—there was no element else of beauty except Form and +Light, and to them the earth had been born. Now, indeed, Osiris was done; and +if the creature should again fall off into wretchedness, her help must be +asked; and her fingers flew—two, three, five, even ten stitches she took +at once. +</p> + +<p> +“And the man was happy a long time—longer than ever before; it +seemed, indeed, he would never tire again. But Isis knew better; and she waited +and waited, nor minded the many laughs flung at her from the sun; she waited +and waited, and at last saw signs of the end. Sounds became familiar to him, +and in their range, from the chirruping of the cricket under the roses to the +roar of the seas and the bellow of the clouds in storm, there was not anything +unusual. And he pined and sickened, and sought his place of moping by the +river, and at last fell down motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Isis in pity spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My lord,’ she said, ‘the creature is dying.’ +</p> + +<p> +“But Osiris, though seeing it all, held his peace; he could do no more. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Shall I help him?’ she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Osiris was too proud to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Isis took the last stitch in her knitting, and gathering her work +in a roll of brilliance flung it off—flung it so it fell close to the +man. And he, hearing the sound of the fall so near by, looked up, and lo! a +Woman—the First Woman—was stooping to help him! She reached a hand +to him; he caught it and arose; and nevermore was miserable, but evermore +happy.” +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Such, O son of Hur! is the genesis of the beautiful, as they tell it on +the Nile.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused. +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty invention, and cunning,” he said, directly; “but it +is imperfect. What did Osiris afterwards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” she replied. “He called the Divine Wife back to the +sun, and they went on all pleasantly together, each helping the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shall I not do as the first man?” +</p> + +<p> +He carried the hand resting upon his neck to his lips. “In love—in +love!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +His head dropped softly into her lap. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find the King,” she said, placing her other hand +caressingly upon his head. “You will go on and find the King and serve +him. With your sword you will earn his richest gifts; and his best soldier will +be my hero.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his face, and saw hers close above. In all the sky there was that +moment nothing so bright to him as her eyes, enshadowed though they were. +Presently he sat up, and put his arms about her, and kissed her passionately, +saying, “O Egypt, Egypt! If the King has crowns in gift, one shall be +mine; and I will bring it and put it here over the place my lips have marked. +You shall be a queen—my queen—no one more beautiful! And we will be +ever, ever so happy!” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will tell me everything, and let me help you in all?” she +said, kissing him in return. +</p> + +<p> +The question chilled his fervor. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not enough that I love you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfect love means perfect faith,” she replied. “But never +mind—you will know me better.” +</p> + +<p> +She took her hand from him and arose. +</p> + +<p> +“You are cruel,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Moving away, she stopped by the camel, and touched its front face with her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +“O thou noblest of thy kind!—that, because there is no suspicion in +thy love.” +</p> + +<p> +An instant, and she was gone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap71"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +The third day of the journey the party nooned by the river Jabbok, where there +were a hundred or more men, mostly of Peraea, resting themselves and their +beasts. Hardly had they dismounted, before a man came to them with a pitcher of +water and a bowl, and offered them drink; as they received the attention with +much courtesy, he said, looking at the camel, “I am returning from the +Jordan, where just now there are many people from distant parts, travelling as +you are, illustrious friend; but they had none of them the equal of your +servant here. A very noble animal. May I ask of what breed he is sprung?” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar answered, and sought his rest; but Ben-Hur, more curious, took up the +remark. +</p> + +<p> +“At what place on the river are the people?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“At Bethabara.” +</p> + +<p> +“It used to be a lonesome ford,” said Ben-Hur. “I cannot +understand how it can have become of such interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” the stranger replied; “you, too, are from abroad, +and have not heard the good tidings.” +</p> + +<p> +“What tidings?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, a man has appeared out of the wilderness—a very holy +man—with his mouth full of strange words, which take hold of all who hear +them. He calls himself John the Nazarite, son of Zacharias, and says he is the +messenger sent before the Messiah.” +</p> + +<p> +Even Iras listened closely while the man continued: +</p> + +<p> +“They say of this John that he has spent his life from childhood in a +cave down by En-Gedi, praying and living more strictly than the Essenes. Crowds +go to hear him preach. I went to hear him with the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have all these, your friends, been there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Most of them are going; a few are coming away.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does he preach?” +</p> + +<p> +“A new doctrine—one never before taught in Israel, as all say. He +calls it repentance and baptism. The rabbis do not know what to make of him; +nor do we. Some have asked him if he is the Christ, others if he is Elias; but +to them all he has the answer, ‘I am the voice of one crying in the +wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord!’” +</p> + +<p> +At this point the man was called away by his friends; as he was going, +Balthasar spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Good stranger!” he said, tremulously, “tell us if we shall +find the preacher at the place you left him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, at Bethabara.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who should this Nazarite be?” said Ben-Hur to Iras, “if not +the herald of our King?” +</p> + +<p> +In so short a time he had come to regard the daughter as more interested in the +mysterious personage he was looking for than the aged father! Nevertheless, the +latter with a positive glow in his sunken eyes half arose, and said, +</p> + +<p> +“Let us make haste. I am not tired.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned away to help the slave. +</p> + +<p> +There was little conversation between the three at the stopping-place for the +night west of Ramoth-Gilead. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us arise early, son of Hur,” said the old man. “The +Saviour may come, and we not there.” +</p> + +<p> +“The King cannot be far behind his herald,” Iras whispered, as she +prepared to take her place on the camel. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow we will see!” Ben-Hur replied, kissing her hand. +</p> + +<p> +Next day about the third hour, out of the pass through which, skirting the base +of Mount Gilead, they had journeyed since leaving Ramoth, the party came upon +the barren steppe east of the sacred river. Opposite them they saw the upper +limit of the old palm lands of Jericho, stretching off to the hill-country of +Judea. Ben-Hur’s blood ran quickly, for he knew the ford was close at +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Content you, good Balthasar,” he said; “we are almost +there.” +</p> + +<p> +The driver quickened the camel’s pace. Soon they caught sight of booths +and tents and tethered animals; and then of the river, and a multitude +collected down close by the bank, and yet another multitude on the western +shore. Knowing that the preacher was preaching, they made greater haste; yet, +as they were drawing near, suddenly there was a commotion in the mass, and it +began to break up and disperse. +</p> + +<p> +They were too late! +</p> + +<p> +“Let us stay here,” said Ben-Hur to Balthasar, who was wringing his +hands. “The Nazarite may come this way.” +</p> + +<p> +The people were too intent upon what they had heard, and too busy in +discussion, to notice the new-comers. When some hundreds were gone by, and it +seemed the opportunity to so much as see the Nazarite was lost to the latter, +up the river not far away they beheld a person coming towards them of such +singular appearance they forgot all else. +</p> + +<p> +Outwardly the man was rude and uncouth, even savage. Over a thin, gaunt visage +of the hue of brown parchment, over his shoulders and down his back below the +middle, in witch-like locks, fell a covering of sun-scorched hair. His eyes +were burning-bright. All his right side was naked, and of the color of his +face, and quite as meagre; a shirt of the coarsest +camel’s-hair—coarse as Bedouin tent-cloth—clothed the rest of +his person to the knees, being gathered at the waist by a broad girdle of +untanned leather. His feet were bare. A scrip, also of untanned leather, was +fastened to the girdle. He used a knotted staff to help him forward. His +movement was quick, decided, and strangely watchful. Every little while he +tossed the unruly hair from his eyes, and peered round as if searching for +somebody. +</p> + +<p> +The fair Egyptian surveyed the son of the Desert with surprise, not to say +disgust. Presently, raising the curtain of the houdah, she spoke to Ben-Hur, +who sat his horse near by. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the herald of thy King?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Nazarite,” he replied, without looking up. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, he was himself more than disappointed. Despite his familiarity with +the ascetic colonists in En-Gedi—their dress, their indifference to all +worldly opinion, their constancy to vows which gave them over to every +imaginable suffering of body, and separated them from others of their kind as +absolutely as if they had not been born like them—and notwithstanding he +had been notified on the way to look for a Nazarite whose simple description of +himself was a Voice from the Wilderness—still Ben-Hur’s dream of +the King who was to be so great and do so much had colored all his thought of +him, so that he never doubted to find in the forerunner some sign or token of +the goodliness and royalty he was announcing. Gazing at the savage figure +before him, the long trains of courtiers whom he had been used to see in the +thermae and imperial corridors at Rome arose before him, forcing a comparison. +Shocked, shamed, bewildered, he could only answer, +</p> + +<p> +“It is the Nazarite.” +</p> + +<p> +With Balthasar it was very different. The ways of God, he knew, were not as men +would have them. He had seen the Saviour a child in a manger, and was prepared +by his faith for the rude and simple in connection with the Divine +reappearance. So he kept his seat, his hands crossed upon his breast, his lips +moving in prayer. He was not expecting a king. +</p> + +<p> +In this time of such interest to the new-comers, and in which they were so +differently moved, another man had been sitting by himself on a stone at the +edge of the river, thinking yet, probably, of the sermon he had been hearing. +Now, however, he arose, and walked slowly up from the shore, in a course to +take him across the line the Nazarite was pursuing and bring him near the +camel. +</p> + +<p> +And the two—the preacher and the stranger—kept on until they came, +the former within twenty yards of the animal, the latter within ten feet. Then +the preacher stopped, and flung the hair from his eyes, looked at the stranger, +threw his hands up as a signal to all the people in sight; and they also +stopped, each in the pose of a listener; and when the hush was perfect, slowly +the staff in the Nazarite’s right hand came down and pointed to the +stranger. +</p> + +<p> +All those who before were but listeners became watchers also. +</p> + +<p> +At the same instant, under the same impulse, Balthasar and Ben-Hur fixed their +gaze upon the man pointed out, and both took the same impression, only in +different degree. He was moving slowly towards them in a clear space a little +to their front, a form slightly above the average in stature, and slender, even +delicate. His action was calm and deliberate, like that habitual to men much +given to serious thought upon grave subjects; and it well became his costume, +which was an undergarment full-sleeved and reaching to the ankles, and an outer +robe called the talith; on his left arm he carried the usual handkerchief for +the head, the red fillet swinging loose down his side. Except the fillet and a +narrow border of blue at the lower edge of the talith, his attire was of linen +yellowed with dust and road stains. Possibly the exception should be extended +to the tassels, which were blue and white, as prescribed by law for rabbis. His +sandals were of the simplest kind. He was without scrip or girdle or staff. +</p> + +<p> +These points of appearance, however, the three beholders observed briefly, and +rather as accessories to the head and face of the man, which—especially +the latter—were the real sources of the spell they caught in common with +all who stood looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +The head was open to the cloudless light, except as it was draped with hair +long and slightly waved, and parted in the middle, and auburn in tint, with a +tendency to reddish golden where most strongly touched by the sun. Under a +broad, low forehead, under black well arched brows, beamed eyes dark-blue and +large, and softened to exceeding tenderness by lashes of the great length +sometimes seen on children, but seldom, if ever, on men. As to the other +features, it would have been difficult to decide whether they were Greek or +Jewish. The delicacy of the nostrils and mouth was unusual to the latter type; +and when it was taken into account with the gentleness of the eyes, the pallor +of the complexion, the fine texture of the hair, and the softness of the beard, +which fell in waves over his throat to his breast, never a soldier but would +have laughed at him in encounter, never a woman who would not have confided in +him at sight, never a child that would not, with quick instinct, have given him +its hand and whole artless trust; nor might any one have said he was not +beautiful. +</p> + +<p> +The features, it should be further said, were ruled by a certain expression +which, as the viewer chose, might with equal correctness have been called the +effect of intelligence, love, pity, or sorrow; though, in better speech, it was +a blending of them all—a look easy to fancy as the mark of a sinless soul +doomed to the sight and understanding of the utter sinfulness of those among +whom it was passing; yet withal no one could have observed the face with a +thought of weakness in the man; so, at least, would not they who know that the +qualities mentioned—love, sorrow, pity—are the results of a +consciousness of strength to bear suffering oftener than strength to do; such +has been the might of martyrs and devotees and the myriads written down in +saintly calendars. And such, indeed, was the air of this one. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly he drew near—nearer the three. +</p> + +<p> +Now Ben-Hur, mounted and spear in hand, was an object to claim the glance of a +king; yet the eyes of the man approaching were all the time raised above +him—and not to Iras, whose loveliness has been so often remarked, but to +Balthasar, the old and unserviceable. +</p> + +<p> +The hush was profound. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the Nazarite, still pointing with his staff, cried, in a loud voice, +</p> + +<p> +“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world!” +</p> + +<p> +The many standing still, arrested by the action of the speaker, and listening +for what might follow, were struck with awe by words so strange and past their +understanding; upon Balthasar they were overpowering. He was there to see once +more the Redeemer of men. The faith which had brought him the singular +privileges of the time long gone abode yet in his heart; and if now it gave him +a power of vision above that of his fellows—a power to see and know him +for whom he was looking—better than calling the power a miracle, let it +be thought of as the faculty of a soul not yet entirely released from the +divine relations to which it had been formerly admitted, or as the fitting +reward of a life in that age so without examples of holiness—a life +itself a miracle. The ideal of his faith was before him, perfect in face, form, +dress, action, age; and he was in its view, and the view was recognition. Ah, +now if something should happen to identify the stranger beyond all doubt! +</p> + +<p> +And that was what did happen. +</p> + +<p> +Exactly at the fitting moment, as if to assure the trembling Egyptian, the +Nazarite repeated the outcry, +</p> + +<p> +“Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world!” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar fell upon his knees. For him there was no need of explanation; and as +if the Nazarite knew it, he turned to those more immediately about him staring +in wonder, and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“This is he of whom I said, After me cometh a man which is preferred +before me, for he was before me. And I knew him not: but that he should be +manifest to Israel, therefore am I come baptizing with water. I saw the Spirit +descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him. And I knew him not: +but he that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom +thou shalt see the Spirit descending and remaining on him, the same is he which +baptizeth with the Holy Ghost. And I saw and bare record, that +this”—he paused, his staff still pointing at the stranger in the +white garments, as if to give a more absolute certainty to both his words and +the conclusions intended—“I bare record, THAT THIS IS THE SON OF +GOD!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is he, it is he!” Balthasar cried, with upraised tearful eyes. +Next moment he sank down insensible. +</p> + +<p> +In this time, it should be remembered, Ben-Hur was studying the face of the +stranger, though with an interest entirely different. He was not insensible to +its purity of feature, and its thoughtfulness, tenderness, humility, and +holiness; but just then there was room in his mind for but one +thought—Who is this man? And what? Messiah or king? Never was apparition +more unroyal. Nay, looking at that calm, benignant countenance, the very idea +of war and conquest, and lust of dominion, smote him like a profanation. He +said, as if speaking to his own heart, Balthasar must be right and Simonides +wrong. This man has not come to rebuild the throne of Solomon; he has neither +the nature nor the genius of Herod; king he may be, but not of another and +greater than Rome. +</p> + +<p> +It should be understood now that this was not a conclusion with Ben-Hur, but an +impression merely; and while it was forming, while yet he gazed at the +wonderful countenance, his memory began to throe and struggle. +“Surely,” he said to himself, “I have seen the man; but where +and when?” That the look, so calm, so pitiful, so loving, had somewhere +in a past time beamed upon him as that moment it was beaming upon Balthasar +became an assurance. Faintly at first, at last a clear light, a burst of +sunshine, the scene by the well at Nazareth what time the Roman guard was +dragging him to the galleys returned, and all his being thrilled. Those hands +had helped him when he was perishing. The face was one of the pictures he had +carried in mind ever since. In the effusion of feeling excited, the explanation +of the preacher was lost by him, all but the last words—words so +marvellous that the world yet rings with them: +</p> + +<p> +“—this is the SON OF GOD!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur leaped from his horse to render homage to his benefactor; but Iras +cried to him, “Help, son of Hur, help, or my father will die!” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, looked back, then hurried to her assistance. She gave him a cup; +and leaving the slave to bring the camel to its knees, he ran to the river for +water. The stranger was gone when he came back. +</p> + +<p> +At last Balthasar was restored to consciousness. Stretching forth his hands, he +asked, feebly, “Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” asked Iras. +</p> + +<p> +An intense instant interest shone upon the good man’s face, as if a last +wish had been gratified, and he answered, +</p> + +<p> +“He—the Redeemer—the Son of God, whom I have seen +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Believest thou so?” Iras asked in a low voice of Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“The time is full of wonders; let us wait,” was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +And next day while the three were listening to him, the Nazarite broke off in +mid-speech, saying reverently, “Behold the Lamb of God!” +</p> + +<p> +Looking to where he pointed, they beheld the stranger again. As Ben-Hur +surveyed the slender figure, and holy beautiful countenance compassionate to +sadness, a new idea broke upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Balthasar is right—so is Simonides. May not the Redeemer be a king +also?” +</p> + +<p> +And he asked one at his side, “Who is the man walking yonder?” +</p> + +<p> +The other laughed mockingly, and replied, +</p> + +<p> +“He is the son of a carpenter over in Nazareth.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="book08"></a>BOOK EIGHTH</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Who could resist? Who in this universe?<br> +She did so breathe ambrosia, so immerse<br> +My fine existence in a golden clime.<br> +She took me like a child of suckling-time,<br> +And cradled me in roses. Thus condemn’d,<br> +The current of my former life was stemm’d,<br> +And to this arbitrary queen of sense<br> +I bow’d a tranced vassal.”—KEATS, Endymion.<br> +<br> +<br> +“I am the resurrection and the life.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap72"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +“Esther—Esther! Speak to the servant below that he may bring me a +cup of water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you not rather have wine, father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him bring both.” +</p> + +<p> +This was in the summer-house upon the roof of the old palace of the Hurs in +Jerusalem. From the parapet overlooking the court-yard Esther called to a man +in waiting there; at the same moment another man-servant came up the steps and +saluted respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +“A package for the master,” he said, giving her a letter enclosed +in linen cloth, tied and sealed. +</p> + +<p> +For the satisfaction of the reader, we stop to say that it is the twenty-first +day of March, nearly three years after the annunciation of the Christ at +Bethabara. +</p> + +<p> +In the meanwhile, Malluch, acting for Ben-Hur, who could not longer endure the +emptiness and decay of his father’s house, had bought it from Pontius +Pilate; and, in process of repair, gates, courts, lewens, stairways, terraces, +rooms, and roof had been cleansed and thoroughly restored; not only was there +no reminder left of the tragic circumstances so ruinous to the family, but the +refurnishment was in a style richer than before. At every point, indeed, a +visitor was met by evidences of the higher tastes acquired by the young +proprietor during his years of residence in the villa by Misenum and in the +Roman capital. +</p> + +<p> +Now it should not be inferred from this explanation that Ben-Hur had publicly +assumed ownership of the property. In his opinion, the hour for that was not +yet come. Neither had he yet taken his proper name. Passing the time in the +labors of preparation in Galilee, he waited patiently the action of the +Nazarene, who became daily more and more a mystery to him, and by prodigies +done, often before his eyes, kept him in a state of anxious doubt both as to +his character and mission. Occasionally he came up to the Holy City, stopping +at the paternal house; always, however, as a stranger and a guest. +</p> + +<p> +These visits of Ben-Hur, it should also be observed, were for more than mere +rest from labor. Balthasar and Iras made their home in the palace; and the +charm of the daughter was still upon him with all its original freshness, while +the father, though feebler in body, held him an unflagging listener to speeches +of astonishing power, urging the divinity of the wandering miracle-worker of +whom they were all so expectant. +</p> + +<p> +As to Simonides and Esther, they had arrived from Antioch only a few days +before this their reappearance—a wearisome journey to the merchant, +borne, as he had been, in a palanquin swung between two camels, which, in their +careening, did not always keep the same step. But now that he was come, the +good man, it seemed, could not see enough of his native land. He delighted in +the perch upon the roof, and spent most of his day hours there seated in an +arm-chair, the duplicate of that one kept for him in the cabinet over the +store-house by the Orontes. In the shade of the summer-house he could drink +fully of the inspiring air lying lightly upon the familiar hills; he could +better watch the sun rise, run its course, and set as it used to in the +far-gone, not a habit lost; and with Esther by him it was so much easier up +there close to the sky, to bring back the other Esther, his love in youth, his +wife, dearer growing with the passage of years. And yet he was not unmindful of +business. Every day a messenger brought him a despatch from Sanballat, in +charge of the big commerce behind; and every day a despatch left him for +Sanballat with directions of such minuteness of detail as to exclude all +judgment save his own, and all chances except those the Almighty has refused to +submit to the most mindful of men. +</p> + +<p> +As Esther started in return to the summer-house, the sunlight fell softly upon +the dustless roof, showing her a woman now—small, graceful in form, of +regular features, rosy with youth and health, bright with intelligence, +beautiful with the outshining of a devoted nature—a woman to be loved +because loving was a habit of life irrepressible with her. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the package as she turned, paused, looked at it a second time +more closely than at first; and the blood rose reddening her cheeks—the +seal was Ben-Hur’s. With quickened steps she hastened on. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides held the package a moment while he also inspected the seal. Breaking +it open, he gave her the roll it contained. +</p> + +<p> +“Read,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were upon her as he spoke, and instantly a troubled expression fell +upon his own face. +</p> + +<p> +“You know who it is from, I see, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—from—our master.” +</p> + +<p> +Though the manner was halting, she met his gaze with modest sincerity. Slowly +his chin sank into the roll of flesh puffed out under it like a cushion. +</p> + +<p> +“You love him, Esther,” he said, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you thought well of what you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have tried not to think of him, father, except as the master to whom I +am dutifully bound. The effort has not helped me to strength.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good girl, a good girl, even as thy mother was,” he said, +dropping into reverie, from which she roused him by unrolling the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord forgive me, but—but thy love might not have been vainly +given had I kept fast hold of all I had, as I might have done—such power +is there in money!” +</p> + +<p> +“It would have been worse for me had you done so, father; for then I had +been unworthy a look from him, and without pride in you. Shall I not read +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a moment,” he said. “Let me, for your sake, my child, +show you the worst. Seeing it with me may make it less terrible to you. His +love, Esther, is all bestowed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” she said, calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“The Egyptian has him in her net,” he continued. “She has the +cunning of her race, with beauty to help her—much beauty, great cunning; +but, like her race again, no heart. The daughter who despises her father will +bring her husband to grief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does she that?” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Balthasar is a wise man who has been wonderfully favored for a Gentile, +and his faith becomes him; yet she makes a jest of it. I heard her say, +speaking of him yesterday, ‘The follies of youth are excusable; nothing +is admirable in the aged except wisdom, and when that goes from them, they +should die.’ A cruel speech, fit for a Roman. I applied it to myself, +knowing a feebleness like her father’s will come to me also—nay, it +is not far off. But you, Esther, will never say of me—no, +never—‘It were better he were dead.’ No, your mother was a +daughter of Judah.” +</p> + +<p> +With half-formed tears, she kissed him, and said, “I am my mother’s +child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and my daughter—my daughter, who is to me all the Temple was +to Solomon.” +</p> + +<p> +After a silence, he laid his hand upon her shoulder, and resumed: “When +he has taken the Egyptian to wife, Esther, he will think of you with repentance +and much calling of the spirit; for at last he will awake to find himself but +the minister of her bad ambition. Rome is the centre of all her dreams. To her +he is the son of Arrius the duumvir, not the son of Hur, Prince of +Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther made no attempt to conceal the effect of these words. +</p> + +<p> +“Save him, father! It is not too late!” she said, entreatingly. +</p> + +<p> +He answered, with a dubious smile, “A man drowning may be saved; not so a +man in love.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have influence with him. He is alone in the world. Show him his +danger. Tell him what a woman she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“That might save him from her. Would it give him to you, Esther? +No,” and his brows fell darkly over his eyes. “I am a servant, as +my fathers were for generations; yet I could not say to him, ‘Lo, master, +my daughter! She is fairer than the Egyptian, and loves thee better!’ I +have caught too much from years of liberty and direction. The words would +blister my tongue. The stones upon the old hills yonder would turn in their +beds for shame when I go out to them. No, by the patriarchs, Esther, I would +rather lay us both with your mother to sleep as she sleeps!” +</p> + +<p> +A blush burned Esther’s whole face. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not mean you to tell him so, father. I was concerned for him +alone—for his happiness, not mine. Because I have dared love him, I shall +keep myself worthy his respect; so only can I excuse my folly. Let me read his +letter now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, read it.” +</p> + +<p> +She began at once, in haste to conclude the distasteful subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Nisan, 8th day. +</p> + +<p> +“On the road from Galilee to Jerusalem. +</p> + +<p> +“The Nazarene is on the way also. With him, though without his knowledge, +I am bringing a full legion of mine. A second legion follows. The Passover will +excuse the multitude. He said upon setting out, ‘We will go up to +Jerusalem, and all things that are written by the prophets concerning me shall +be accomplished.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Our waiting draws to an end. +</p> + +<p> +“In haste. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to thee, Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“BEN-HUR.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther returned the letter to her father, while a choking sensation gathered in +her throat. There was not a word in the missive for her—not even in the +salutation had she a share—and it would have been so easy to have written +“and to thine, peace.” For the first time in her life she felt the +smart of a jealous sting. +</p> + +<p> +“The eighth day,” said Simonides, “the eighth day; and this, +Esther, this is the—” +</p> + +<p> +“The ninth,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then, they may be in Bethany now.” +</p> + +<p> +“And possibly we may see him to-night,” she added, pleased into +momentary forgetfulness. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be, it may be! To-morrow is the Feast of Unleavened Bread, and he +may wish to celebrate it; so may the Nazarene; and we may see him—we may +see both of them, Esther.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point the servant appeared with the wine and water. Esther helped her +father, and in the midst of the service Iras came upon the roof. +</p> + +<p> +To the Jewess the Egyptian never appeared so very, very beautiful as at that +moment. Her gauzy garments fluttered about her like a little cloud of mist; her +forehead, neck, and arms glittered with the massive jewelry so affected by her +people. Her countenance was suffused with pleasure. She moved with buoyant +steps, and self-conscious, though without affectation. Esther at the sight +shrank within herself, and nestled closer to her father. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, Simonides, and to the pretty Esther peace,” said +Iras, inclining her head to the latter. “You remind me, good +master—if I may say it without offence-you remind me of the priests in +Persia who climb their temples at the decline of day to send prayers after the +departing sun. Is there anything in the worship you do not know, let me call my +father. He is Magian-bred.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fair Egyptian,” the merchant replied, nodding with grave +politeness, “your father is a good man who would not be offended if he +knew I told you his Persian lore is the least part of his wisdom.” +</p> + +<p> +Iras’s lip curled slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“To speak like a philosopher, as you invite me,” she said, +“the least part always implies a greater. Let me ask what you esteem the +greater part of the rare quality you are pleased to attribute to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides turned upon her somewhat sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Pure wisdom always directs itself towards God; the purest wisdom is +knowledge of God; and no man of my acquaintance has it in higher degree, or +makes it more manifest in speech and act, than the good Balthasar.” +</p> + +<p> +To end the parley, he raised the cup and drank. +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian turned to Esther a little testily. +</p> + +<p> +“A man who has millions in store, and fleets of ships at sea, cannot +discern in what simple women like us find amusement. Let us leave him. By the +wall yonder we can talk.” +</p> + +<p> +They went to the parapet then, stopping at the place where, years before, +Ben-Hur loosed the broken tile upon the head of Gratus. +</p> + +<p> +“You have not been to Rome?” Iras began, toying the while with one +of her unclasped bracelets. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Esther, demurely. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you not wished to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, how little there has been of your life!” +</p> + +<p> +The sigh that succeeded the exclamation could not have been more piteously +expressive had the loss been the Egyptian’s own. Next moment her laugh +might have been heard in the street below; and she said “Oh, oh, my +pretty simpleton! The half-fledged birds nested in the ear of the great bust +out on the Memphian sands know nearly as much as you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, seeing Esther’s confusion, she changed her manner, and said in a +confiding tone, “You must not take offence. Oh no! I was playing. Let me +kiss the hurt, and tell you what I would not to any other—not if Simbel +himself asked it of me, offering a lotus-cup of the spray of the Nile!” +</p> + +<p> +Another laugh, masking excellently the look she turned sharply upon the Jewess, +and she said, “The King is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther gazed at her in innocent surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“The Nazarene,” Iras continued—“he whom our fathers +have been talking about so much, whom Ben-Hur has been serving and toiling for +so long”—her voice dropped several tones lower—“the +Nazarene will be here to-morrow, and Ben-Hur to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther struggled to maintain her composure, but failed: her eyes fell, the +tell-tale blood surged to her cheek and forehead, and she was saved sight of +the triumphant smile that passed, like a gleam, over the face of the Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +“See, here is his promise.” +</p> + +<p> +And from her girdle she took a roll. +</p> + +<p> +“Rejoice with me, O my friend! He will be here tonight! On the Tiber +there is a house, a royal property, which he has pledged to me; and to be its +mistress is to be—” +</p> + +<p> +A sound of some one walking swiftly along the street below interrupted the +speech, and she leaned over the parapet to see. Then she drew back, and cried, +with hands clasped above her head, “Now blessed be Isis! ’Tis +he—Ben-Hur himself! That he should appear while I had such thought of +him! There are no gods if it be not a good omen. Put your arms about me, +Esther—and a kiss!” +</p> + +<p> +The Jewess looked up. Upon each cheek there was a glow; her eyes sparkled with +a light more nearly of anger than ever her nature emitted before. Her +gentleness had been too roughly overridden. It was not enough for her to be +forbidden more than fugitive dreams of the man she loved; a boastful rival must +tell her in confidence of her better success, and of the brilliant promises +which were its rewards. Of her, the servant of a servant, there had been no +hint of remembrance; this other could show his letter, leaving her to imagine +all it breathed. So she said, +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou love him so much, then, or Rome so much better?” +</p> + +<p> +The Egyptian drew back a step; then she bent her haughty head quite near her +questioner. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he to thee, daughter of Simonides?” +</p> + +<p> +Esther, all thrilling, began, “He is my—” +</p> + +<p> +A thought blasting as lightning stayed the words: she paled, trembled, +recovered, and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“He is my father’s friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Her tongue had refused to admit her servile condition. +</p> + +<p> +Iras laughed more lightly than before. +</p> + +<p> +“Not more than that?” she said. “Ah, by the lover-gods of +Egypt, thou mayst keep thy kisses—keep them. Thou hast taught me but now +that there are others vastly more estimable waiting me here in Judea; +and”—she turned away, looking back over her shoulder—“I +will go get them. Peace to thee.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther saw her disappear down the steps, when, putting her hands over her face, +she burst into tears so they ran scalding through her fingers—tears of +shame and choking passion. And, to deepen the paroxysm to her even temper so +strange, up with a new meaning of withering force rose her father’s +words—“Thy love might not have been vainly given had I kept fast +hold of all I had, as I might have done.” +</p> + +<p> +And all the stars were out, burning low above the city and the dark wall of +mountains about it, before she recovered enough to go back to the summer-house, +and in silence take her accustomed place at her father’s side, humbly +waiting his pleasure. To such duty it seemed her youth, if not her life, must +be given. And, let the truth be said, now that the pang was spent, she went not +unwillingly back to the duty. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap73"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +An hour or thereabouts after the scene upon the roof, Balthasar and Simonides, +the latter attended by Esther, met in the great chamber of the palace; and +while they were talking, Ben-Hur and Iras came in together. +</p> + +<p> +The young Jew, advancing in front of his companion, walked first to Balthasar, +and saluted him, and received his reply; then he turned to Simonides, but +paused at sight of Esther. +</p> + +<p> +It is not often we have hearts roomy enough for more than one of the absorbing +passions at the same time; in its blaze the others may continue to live, but +only as lesser lights. So with Ben-Hur, much study of possibilities, indulgence +of hopes and dreams, influences born of the condition of his country, +influences more direct—that of Iras, for example—had made him in +the broadest worldly sense ambitious; and as he had given the passion place, +allowing it to become a rule, and finally an imperious governor, the resolves +and impulses of former days faded imperceptibly out of being, and at last +almost out of recollection. It is at best so easy to forget our youth; in his +case it was but natural that his own sufferings and the mystery darkening the +fate of his family should move him less and less as, in hope at least, he +approached nearer and nearer the goals which occupied all his visions. Only let +us not judge him too harshly. +</p> + +<p> +He paused in surprise at seeing Esther a woman now, and so beautiful; and as he +stood looking at her a still voice reminded him of broken vows and duties +undone: almost his old self returned. +</p> + +<p> +For an instant he was startled; but recovering, he went to Esther, and said, +“Peace to thee, sweet Esther—peace; and thou, +Simonides”—he looked to the merchant as he spoke—“the +blessing of the Lord be thine, if only because thou hast been a good father to +the fatherless.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther heard him with downcast face; Simonides answered, +</p> + +<p> +“I repeat the welcome of the good Balthasar, son of Hur—welcome to +thy father’s house; and sit, and tell us of thy travels, and of thy work, +and of the wonderful Nazarene—who he is, and what. If thou art not at +ease here, who shall be? Sit, I pray—there, between us, that we may all +hear.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther stepped out quickly and brought a covered stool, and set it for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” he said to her, gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +When seated, after some other conversation, he addressed himself to the men. +</p> + +<p> +“I have come to tell you of the Nazarene.” +</p> + +<p> +The two became instantly attentive. +</p> + +<p> +“For many days now I have followed him with such watchfulness as one may +give another upon whom he is waiting so anxiously. I have seen him under all +circumstances said to be trials and tests of men; and while I am certain he is +a man as I am, not less certain am I that he is something more.” +</p> + +<p> +“What more?” asked Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you—” +</p> + +<p> +Some one coming into the room interrupted him; he turned, and arose with +extended hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah! Dear old Amrah!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +She came forward; and they, seeing the joy in her face, thought not once how +wrinkled and tawny it was. She knelt at his feet, clasped his knees, and kissed +his hands over and over; and when he could he put the lank gray hair from her +cheeks, and kissed them, saying, “Good Amrah, have you nothing, nothing +of them—not a word—not one little sign?” +</p> + +<p> +Then she broke into sobbing which made him answer plainer even than the spoken +word. +</p> + +<p> +“God’s will has been done,” he next said, solemnly, in a tone +to make each listener know he had no hope more of finding his people. In his +eyes there were tears which he would not have them see, because he was a man. +</p> + +<p> +When he could again, he took seat, and said, “Come, sit by me, +Amrah—here. No? then at my feet; for I have much to say to these good +friends of a wonderful man come into the world.” +</p> + +<p> +But she went off, and stooping with her back to the wall, joined her hands +before her knees, content, they all thought, with seeing him. Then Ben-Hur, +bowing to the old men, began again: +</p> + +<p> +“I fear to answer the question asked me about the Nazarene without first +telling you some of the things I have seen him do; and to that I am the more +inclined, my friends, because to-morrow he will come to the city, and go up +into the Temple, which he calls his father’s house, where, it is further +said, he will proclaim himself. So, whether you are right, O Balthasar, or you, +Simonides, we and Israel shall know to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar rubbed his hands tremulously together, and asked, “Where shall +I go to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“The pressure of the crowd will be very great. Better, I think, that you +all go upon the roof above the cloisters—say upon the Porch of +Solomon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you be with us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Ben-Hur, “my friends will require me, perhaps, in +the procession.” +</p> + +<p> +“Procession!” exclaimed Simonides. “Does he travel in +state?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur saw the argument in mind. +</p> + +<p> +“He brings twelve men with him, fishermen, tillers of the soil, one a +publican, all of the humbler class; and he and they make their journeys on +foot, careless of wind, cold, rain, or sun. Seeing them stop by the wayside at +nightfall to break bread or lie down to sleep, I have been reminded of a party +of shepherds going back to their flocks from market, not of nobles and kings. +Only when he lifts the corners of his handkerchief to look at some one or shake +the dust from his head, I am made known he is their teacher as well as their +companion—their superior not less than their friend. +</p> + +<p> +“You are shrewd men,” Ben-Hur resumed, after a pause. “You +know what creatures of certain master motives we are, and that it has become +little less than a law of our nature to spend life in eager pursuit of certain +objects; now, appealing to that law as something by which we may know +ourselves, what would you say of a man who could be rich by making gold of the +stones under his feet, yet is poor of choice?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Greeks would call him a philosopher,” said Iras. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, daughter,” said Balthasar, “the philosophers had never +the power to do such thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“How know you this man has?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur answered quickly, “I saw him turn water into wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very strange, very strange,” said Simonides; “but it is not +so strange to me as that he should prefer to live poor when he could be so +rich. Is he so poor?” +</p> + +<p> +“He owns nothing, and envies nobody his owning. He pities the rich. But +passing that, what would you say to see a man multiply seven loaves and two +fishes, all his store, into enough to feed five thousand people, and have full +baskets over? That I saw the Nazarene do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw it?” exclaimed Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, and ate of the bread and fish.” +</p> + +<p> +“More marvellous still,” Ben-Hur continued, “what would you +say of a man in whom there is such healing virtue that the sick have but to +touch the hem of his garment to be cured, or cry to him afar? That, too, I +witnessed, not once, but many times. As we came out of Jericho two blind men by +the wayside called to the Nazarene, and he touched their eyes, and they saw. So +they brought a palsied man to him, and he said merely, ‘Go unto thy +house,’ and the man went away well. What say you to these things?” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant had no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Think you now, as I have heard others argue, that what I have told you +are tricks of jugglery? Let me answer by recalling greater things which I have +seen him do. Look first to that curse of God—comfortless, as you all +know, except by death—leprosy.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words Amrah dropped her hands to the floor, and in her eagerness to +hear him half arose. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you say,” said Ben-Hur, with increased +earnestness—“what would you say to have seen that I now tell you? A +leper came to the Nazarene while I was with him down in Galilee, and said, +‘Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.’ He heard the cry, +and touched the outcast with his hand, saying, ‘Be thou clean;’ and +forthwith the man was himself again, healthful as any of us who beheld the +cure, and we were a multitude.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Amrah arose, and with her gaunt fingers held the wiry locks from her eyes. +The brain of the poor creature had long since gone to heart, and she was +troubled to follow the speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, again,” said Ben-Hur, without stop, “ten lepers came +to him one day in a body, and falling at his feet, called out—I saw and +heard it all—called out, ‘Master, Master, have mercy upon +us!’ He told them, ‘Go, show yourselves to the priest, as the law +requires; and before you are come there ye shall be healed.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And were they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. On the road going their infirmity left them, so that there was +nothing to remind us of it except their polluted clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such thing was never heard before—never in all Israel!” said +Simonides, in undertone. +</p> + +<p> +And then, while he was speaking, Amrah turned away, and walked noiselessly to +the door, and went out; and none of the company saw her go. +</p> + +<p> +“The thoughts stirred by such things done under my eyes I leave you to +imagine,” said Ben-Hur, continuing; “but my doubts, my misgivings, +my amazement, were not yet at the full. The people of Galilee are, as you know, +impetuous and rash; after years of waiting their swords burned their hands; +nothing would do them but action. ‘He is slow to declare himself; let us +force him,’ they cried to me. And I too became impatient. If he is to be +king, why not now? The legions are ready. So as he was once teaching by the +seaside we would have crowned him whether or not; but he disappeared, and was +next seen on a ship departing from the shore. Good Simonides, the desires that +make other men mad—riches, power, even kingships offered out of great +love by a great people—move this one not at all. What say you?” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant’s chin was low upon his breast; raising his head, he +replied, resolutely, “The Lord liveth, and so do the words of the +prophets. Time is in the green yet; let to-morrow answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” said Balthasar, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +And Ben-Hur said, “Be it so.” Then he went on: “But I have +not yet done. From these things, not too great to be above suspicion by such as +did not see them in performance as I did, let me carry you now to others +infinitely greater, acknowledged since the world began to be past the power of +man. Tell me, has any one to your knowledge ever reached out and taken from +Death what Death has made his own? Who ever gave again the breath of a life +lost? Who but—” +</p> + +<p> +“God!” said Balthasar, reverently. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“O wise Egyptian! I may not refuse the name you lend me. What would +you—or you, Simonides—what would you either or both have said had +you seen as I did, a man, with few words and no ceremony, without effort more +than a mother’s when she speaks to wake her child asleep, undo the work +of Death? It was down at Nain. We were about going into the gate, when a +company came out bearing a dead man. The Nazarene stopped to let the train +pass. There was a woman among them crying. I saw his face soften with pity. He +spoke to her, then went and touched the bier, and said to him who lay upon it +dressed for burial, ‘Young man, I say unto thee, Arise!’ And +instantly the dead sat up and talked.” +</p> + +<p> +“God only is so great,” said Balthasar to Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“Mark you,” Ben-Hur proceeded, “I do but tell you things of +which I was a witness, together with a cloud of other men. On the way hither I +saw another act still more mighty. In Bethany there was a man named Lazarus, +who died and was buried; and after he had lain four days in a tomb, shut in by +a great stone, the Nazarene was shown to the place. Upon rolling the stone +away, we beheld the man lying inside bound and rotting. There were many people +standing by, and we all heard what the Nazarene said, for he spoke in a loud +voice: ‘Lazarus, come forth!’ I cannot tell you my feelings when in +answer, as it were, the man arose and came out to us with all his cerements +about him. ‘Loose him,’ said the Nazarene next, ‘loose him, +and let him go.’ And when the napkin was taken from the face of the +resurrected, lo, my friends! the blood ran anew through the wasted body, and he +was exactly as he had been in life before the sickness that took him off. He +lives yet, and is hourly seen and spoken to. You may go see him to-morrow. And +now, as nothing more is needed for the purpose, I ask you that which I came to +ask, it being but a repetition of what you asked me, O Simonides, What more +than a man is this Nazarene?” +</p> + +<p> +The question was put solemnly, and long after midnight the company sat and +debated it; Simonides being yet unwilling to give up his understanding of the +sayings of the prophets, and Ben-Hur contending that the elder disputants were +both right—that the Nazarene was the Redeemer, as claimed by Balthasar, +and also the destined king the merchant would have. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow we will see. Peace to you all.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, Ben-Hur took his leave, intending to return to Bethany. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap74"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +The first person to go out of the city upon the opening of the Sheep’s +Gate next morning was Amrah, basket on arm. No questions were asked her by the +keepers, since the morning itself had not been more regular in coming than she; +they knew her somebody’s faithful servant, and that was enough for them. +</p> + +<p> +Down the eastern valley she took her way. The side of Olivet, darkly green, was +spotted with white tents recently put up by people attending the feasts; the +hour, however, was too early for the strangers to be abroad; still, had it not +been so, no one would have troubled her. Past Gethsemane; past the tombs at the +meeting of the Bethany roads; past the sepulchral village of Siloam she went. +Occasionally the decrepit little body staggered; once she sat down to get her +breath; rising shortly, she struggled on with renewed haste. The great rocks on +either hand, if they had had ears, might have heard her mutter to herself; +could they have seen, it would have been to observe how frequently she looked +up over the Mount, reproving the dawn for its promptness; if it had been +possible for them to gossip, not improbably they would have said to each other, +“Our friend is in a hurry this morning; the mouths she goes to feed must +be very hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +When at last she reached the King’s Garden she slackened her gait; for +then the grim city of the lepers was in view, extending far round the pitted +south hill of Hinnom. +</p> + +<p> +As the reader must by this time have surmised, she was going to her mistress, +whose tomb, it will be remembered, overlooked the well En-Rogel. +</p> + +<p> +Early as it was, the unhappy woman was up and sitting outside, leaving Tirzah +asleep within. The course of the malady had been terribly swift in the three +years. Conscious of her appearance, with the refined instincts of her nature, +she kept her whole person habitually covered. Seldom as possible she permitted +even Tirzah to see her. +</p> + +<p> +This morning she was taking the air with bared head, knowing there was no one +to be shocked by the exposure. The light was not full, but enough to show the +ravages to which she had been subject. Her hair was snow-white and unmanageably +coarse, falling over her back and shoulders like so much silver wire. The +eyelids, the lips, the nostrils, the flesh of the cheeks, were either gone or +reduced to fetid rawness. The neck was a mass of ash-colored scales. One hand +lay outside the folds of her habit rigid as that of a skeleton; the nails had +been eaten away; the joints of the fingers, if not bare to the bone, were +swollen knots crusted with red secretion. Head, face, neck, and hand indicated +all too plainly the condition of the whole body. Seeing her thus, it was easy +to understand how the once fair widow of the princely Hur had been able to +maintain her incognito so well through such a period of years. +</p> + +<p> +When the sun would gild the crest of Olivet and the Mount of Offence with light +sharper and more brilliant in that old land than in the West, she knew Amrah +would come, first to the well, then to a stone midway the well and the foot of +the hill on which she had her abode, and that the good servant would there +deposit the food she carried in the basket, and fill the water-jar afresh for +the day. Of her former plentitude of happiness, that brief visit was all that +remained to the unfortunate. She could then ask about her son, and be told of +his welfare, with such bits of news concerning him as the messenger could +glean. Usually the information was meagre enough, yet comforting; at times she +heard he was at home; then she would issue from her dreary cell at break of +day, and sit till noon, and from noon to set of sun, a motionless figure draped +in white, looking, statue-like, invariably to one point—over the Temple +to the spot under the rounded sky where the old house stood, dear in memory, +and dearer because he was there. Nothing else was left her. Tirzah she counted +of the dead; and as for herself, she simply waited the end, knowing every hour +of life was an hour of dying—happily, of painless dying. +</p> + +<p> +The things of nature about the hill to keep her sensitive to the world’s +attractions were wretchedly scant; beasts and birds avoided the place as if +they knew its history and present use; every green thing perished in its first +season; the winds warred upon the shrubs and venturous grasses, leaving to +drought such as they could not uproot. Look where she would, the view was made +depressingly suggestive by tombs—tombs above her, tombs below, tombs +opposite her own tomb—all now freshly whitened in warning to visiting +pilgrims. In the sky—clear, fair, inviting—one would think she +might have found some relief to her ache of mind; but, alas! in making the +beautiful elsewhere the sun served her never so unfriendly—it did but +disclose her growing hideousness. But for the sun she would not have been the +horror she was to herself, nor been waked so cruelly from dreams of Tirzah as +she used to be. The gift of seeing can be sometimes a dreadful curse. +</p> + +<p> +Does one ask why she did not make an end to her sufferings? +</p> + +<p> +THE LAW FORBADE HER! +</p> + +<p> +A Gentile may smile at the answer; but so will not a son of Israel. +</p> + +<p> +While she sat there peopling the dusky solitude with thoughts even more +cheerless, suddenly a woman came up the hill staggering and spent with +exertion. +</p> + +<p> +The widow arose hastily, and covering her head, cried, in a voice unnaturally +harsh, “Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +In a moment, heedless of the notice, Amrah was at her feet. All the long-pent +love of the simple creature burst forth: with tears and passionate exclamations +she kissed her mistress’s garments, and for a while the latter strove to +escape from her; then, seeing she could not, she waited till the violence of +the paroxysm was over. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you done, Amrah?” she said. “Is it by such +disobedience you prove your love for us? Wicked woman! You are lost; and +he—your master—you can never, never go back to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah grovelled sobbing in the dust. +</p> + +<p> +“The ban of the Law is upon you, too; you cannot return to Jerusalem. +What will become of us? Who will bring us bread? O wicked, wicked Amrah! We are +all, all undone alike!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy, mercy!” Amrah answered from the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“You should have been merciful to yourself, and by so doing been most +merciful to us. Now where can we fly? There is no one to help us. O false +servant! The wrath of the Lord was already too heavy upon us.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Tirzah, awakened by the noise, appeared at the door of the tomb. The pen +shrinks from the picture she presented. In the half-clad apparition, patched +with scales, lividly seamed, nearly blind, its limbs and extremities swollen to +grotesque largeness, familiar eyes however sharpened by love could not have +recognized the creature of childish grace and purity we first beheld her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it Amrah, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +The servant tried to crawl to her also. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, Amrah!” the widow cried, imperiously. “I forbid you +touching her. Rise, and get you gone before any at the well see you here. Nay, +I forgot—it is too late! You must remain now and share our doom. Rise, I +say!” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah rose to her knees, and said, brokenly and with clasped hands, “O +good mistress! I am not false—I am not wicked. I bring you good +tidings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of Judah?” and as she spoke, the widow half withdrew the cloth +from her head. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a wonderful man,” Amrah continued, “who has power +to cure you. He speaks a word, and the sick are made well, and even the dead +come to life. I have come to take you to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Amrah!” said Tirzah, compassionately. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” cried Amrah, detecting the doubt underlying the +expression—“no, as the Lord lives, even the Lord of Israel, my God +as well as yours, I speak the truth. Go with me, I pray, and lose no time. This +morning he will pass by on his way to the city. See! the day is at hand. Take +the food here—eat, and let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother listened eagerly. Not unlikely she had heard of the wonderful man, +for by this time his fame had penetrated every nook in the land. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is he?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A Nazarene.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you about him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Judah.” +</p> + +<p> +“Judah told you? Is he at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“He came last night.” +</p> + +<p> +The widow, trying to still the beating of her heart, was silent awhile. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Judah send you to tell us this?” she next asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No. He believes you dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was a prophet once who cured a leper,” the mother said +thoughtfully to Tirzah; “but he had his power from God.” Then +addressing Amrah, she asked, “How does my son know this man so +possessed?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was travelling with him, and heard the lepers call, and saw them go +away well. First there was one man; then there were ten; and they were all made +whole.” +</p> + +<p> +The elder listener was silent again. The skeleton hand shook. We may believe +she was struggling to give the story the sanction of faith, which is always an +absolutist in demand, and that it was with her as with the men of the day, +eye-witnesses of what was done by the Christ, as well as the myriads who have +succeeded them. She did not question the performance, for her own son was the +witness testifying through the servant; but she strove to comprehend the power +by which work so astonishing could be done by a man. Well enough to make +inquiry as to the fact; to comprehend the power, on the other hand, it is first +necessary to comprehend God; and he who waits for that will die waiting. With +her, however, the hesitation was brief. To Tirzah she said, +</p> + +<p> +“This must be the Messiah!” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke not coldly, like one reasoning a doubt away, but as a woman of Israel +familiar with the promises of God to her race—a woman of understanding, +ready to be glad over the least sign of the realization of the promises. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a time when Jerusalem and all Judea were filled with a story +that he was born. I remember it. By this time he should be a man. It must +be—it is he. Yes,” she said to Amrah, “we will go with you. +Bring the water which you will find in the tomb in a jar, and set the food for +us. We will eat and be gone.” +</p> + +<p> +The breakfast, partaken under excitement, was soon despatched, and the three +women set out on their extraordinary journey. As Tirzah had caught the +confident spirit of the others, there was but one fear that troubled the party. +Bethany, Amrah said, was the town the man was coming from; now from that to +Jerusalem there were three roads, or rather paths—one over the first +summit of Olivet, a second at its base, a third between the second summit and +the Mount of Offence. The three were not far apart; far enough, however, to +make it possible for the unfortunates to miss the Nazarene if they failed the +one he chose to come by. +</p> + +<p> +A little questioning satisfied the mother that Amrah knew nothing of the +country beyond the Cedron, and even less of the intentions of the man they were +going to see, if they could. She discerned, also, that both Amrah and +Tirzah—the one from confirmed habits of servitude, the other from natural +dependency—looked to her for guidance; and she accepted the charge. +</p> + +<p> +“We will go first to Bethphage,” she said to them. “There, if +the Lord favor us, we may learn what else to do.” +</p> + +<p> +They descended the hill to Tophet and the King’s Garden, and paused in +the deep trail furrowed through them by centuries of wayfaring. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid of the road,” the matron said. “Better that we +keep to the country among the rocks and trees. This is feast-day, and on the +hill-sides yonder I see signs of a great multitude in attendance. By going +across the Mount of Offence here we may avoid them.” +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah had been walking with great difficulty; upon hearing this her heart +began to fail her. +</p> + +<p> +“The mount is steep, mother; I cannot climb it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, we are going to find health and life. See, my child, how the +day brightens around us! And yonder are women coming this way to the well. They +will stone us if we stay here. Come, be strong this once.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus the mother, not less tortured herself, sought to inspire the daughter; and +Amrah came to her aid. To this time the latter had not touched the persons of +the afflicted, nor they her; now, in disregard of consequences as well as of +command, the faithful creature went to Tirzah, and put her arm over her +shoulder, and whispered, “Lean on me. I am strong, though I am old; and +it is but a little way off. There—now we can go.” +</p> + +<p> +The face of the hill they essayed to cross was somewhat broken with pits, and +ruins of old structures; but when at last they stood upon the top to rest, and +looked at the spectacle presented them over in the northwest—at the +Temple and its courtly terraces, at Zion, at the enduring towers white beetling +into the sky beyond—the mother was strengthened with a love of life for +life’s sake. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Tirzah,” she said—“look at the plates of gold on +the Gate Beautiful. How they give back the flames of the sun, brightness for +brightness! Do you remember we used to go up there? Will it not be pleasant to +do so again? And think—home is but a little way off. I can almost see it +over the roof of the Holy of Holies; and Judah will be there to receive +us!” +</p> + +<p> +From the side of the middle summit garnished green with myrtle and olive trees, +they saw, upon looking that way next, thin columns of smoke rising lightly and +straight up into the pulseless morning, each a warning of restless pilgrims +astir, and of the flight of the pitiless hours, and the need of haste. +</p> + +<p> +Though the good servant toiled faithfully to lighten the labor in descending +the hill-side, not sparing herself in the least, the girl moaned at every step; +sometimes in extremity of anguish she cried out. Upon reaching the +road—that is, the road between the Mount of Offence and the middle or +second summit of Olivet—she fell down exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on with Amrah, mother, and leave me here,” she said, faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Tirzah. What would the gain be to me if I were healed and you +not? When Judah asks for you, as he will, what would I have to say to him were +I to leave you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him I loved him.” +</p> + +<p> +The elder leper arose from bending over the fainting sufferer, and gazed about +her with that sensation of hope perishing which is more nearly like +annihilation of the soul than anything else. The supremest joy of the thought +of cure was inseparable from Tirzah, who was not too old to forget, in the +happiness of healthful life to come, the years of misery by which she had been +so reduced in body and broken in spirit. Even as the brave woman was about +leaving the venture they were engaged in to the determination of God, she saw a +man on foot coming rapidly up the road from the east. +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, Tirzah! Be of cheer,” she said. “Yonder I know is +one to tell us of the Nazarene.” +</p> + +<p> +Amrah helped the girl to a sitting posture, and supported her while the man +advanced. +</p> + +<p> +“In your goodness, mother, you forget what we are. The stranger will go +around us; his best gift to us will be a curse, if not a stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“We will see.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no other answer to be given, since the mother was too well and sadly +acquainted with the treatment outcasts of the class to which she belonged were +accustomed to at the hands of her countrymen. +</p> + +<p> +As has been said, the road at the edge of which the group was posted was little +more than a worn path or trail, winding crookedly through tumuli of limestone. +If the stranger kept it, he must meet them face to face; and he did so, until +near enough to hear the cry she was bound to give. Then, uncovering her head, a +further demand of the law, she shouted shrilly, +</p> + +<p> +“Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +To her surprise, the man came steadily on. +</p> + +<p> +“What would you have?” he asked, stopping opposite them not four +yards off. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou seest us. Have a care,” the mother said, with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman, I am the courier of him who speaketh but once to such as thou and +they are healed. I am not afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Nazarene?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Messiah,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true that he cometh to the city to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is now at Bethphage.” +</p> + +<p> +“On what road, master?” +</p> + +<p> +“This one.” +</p> + +<p> +She clasped her hands, and looked up thankfully. +</p> + +<p> +“For whom takest thou him?” the man asked, with pity. +</p> + +<p> +“The Son of God,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay thou here then; or, as there is a multitude with him, take thy +stand by the rock yonder, the white one under the tree; and as he goeth by fail +not to call to him; call, and fear not. If thy faith but equal thy knowledge, +he will hear thee though all the heavens thunder. I go to tell Israel, +assembled in and about the city, that he is at hand, and to make ready to +receive him. Peace to thee and thine, woman.” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger moved on. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear, Tirzah? Did you hear? The Nazarene is on the road, on this +one, and he will hear us. Once more, my child—oh, only once! and let us +to the rock. It is but a step.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus encouraged Tirzah took Amrah’s hand and arose; but as they were +going, Amrah said, “Stay; the man is returning.” And they waited +for him. +</p> + +<p> +“I pray your grace, woman,” he said, upon overtaking them. +“Remembering that the sun will be hot before the Nazarene arrives, and +that the city is near by to give me refreshment should I need it, I thought +this water would do thee better than it will me. Take it and be of good cheer. +Call to him as he passes.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed the words by offering her a gourd full of water, such as +foot-travellers sometimes carried with them in their journeys across the hills; +and instead of placing the gift on the ground for her to take up when he was at +a safe distance, he gave it into her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Art thou a Jew?” she asked, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“I am that, and better; I am a disciple of the Christ who teacheth daily +by word and example this thing which I have done unto you. The world hath long +known the word charity without understanding it. Again I say peace and good +cheer to thee and thine.” +</p> + +<p> +He went on, and they went slowly to the rock he had pointed out to them, high +as their heads, and scarcely thirty yards from the road on the right. Standing +in front of it, the mother satisfied herself they could be seen and heard +plainly by passers-by whose notice they desired to attract. There they cast +themselves under the tree in its shade, and drank of the gourd, and rested +refreshed. Ere long Tirzah slept, and fearing to disturb her, the others held +their peace. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap75"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +During the third hour the road in front of the resting-place of the lepers +became gradually more and more frequented by people going in the direction of +Bethphage and Bethany; now, however, about the commencement of the fourth hour, +a great crowd appeared over the crest of Olivet, and as it defiled down the +road thousands in number, the two watchers noticed with wonder that every one +in it carried a palm-branch freshly cut. As they sat absorbed by the novelty, +the noise of another multitude approaching from the east drew their eyes that +way. Then the mother awoke Tirzah. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the meaning of it all?” the latter asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He is coming,” answered the mother. “These we see are from +the city going to meet him; those we hear in the east are his friends bearing +him company; and it will not be strange if the processions meet here before us. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear, if they do, we cannot be heard.” +</p> + +<p> +The same thought was in the elder’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah,” she asked, “when Judah spoke of the healing of the +ten, in what words did he say they called to the Nazarene?” +</p> + +<p> +“Either they said, ‘Lord, have mercy upon us,’ or +‘Master, have mercy.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that?” +</p> + +<p> +“No more that I heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet it was enough,” the mother added, to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Amrah, “Judah said he saw them go away +well.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the people in the east came up slowly. When at length the foremost of +them were in sight, the gaze of the lepers fixed upon a man riding in the midst +of what seemed a chosen company which sang and danced about him in extravagance +of joy. The rider was bareheaded and clad all in white. When he was in distance +to be more clearly observed, these, looking anxiously, saw an olive-hued face +shaded by long chestnut hair slightly sunburned and parted in the middle. He +looked neither to the right nor left. In the noisy abandon of his followers he +appeared to have no part; nor did their favor disturb him in the least, or +raise him out of the profound melancholy into which, as his countenance showed, +he was plunged. The sun beat upon the back of his head, and lighting up the +floating hair gave it a delicate likeness to a golden nimbus. Behind him the +irregular procession, pouring forward with continuous singing and shouting, +extended out of view. There was no need of any one to tell the lepers that this +was he—the wonderful Nazarene! +</p> + +<p> +“He is here, Tirzah,” the mother said; “he is here. Come, my +child.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she glided in front of the white rock and fell upon her knees. +</p> + +<p> +Directly the daughter and servant were by her side. Then at sight of the +procession in the west, the thousands from the city halted, and began to wave +their green branches, shouting, or rather chanting (for it was all in one +voice), +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the +Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +And all the thousands who were of the rider’s company, both those near +and those afar, replied so the air shook with the sound, which was as a great +wind threshing the side of the hill. Amidst the din, the cries of the poor +lepers were not more than the twittering of dazed sparrows. +</p> + +<p> +The moment of the meeting of the hosts was come, and with it the opportunity +the sufferers were seeking; if not taken, it would be lost forever, and they +would be lost as well. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearer, my child—let us get nearer. He cannot hear us,” said +the mother. +</p> + +<p> +She arose, and staggered forward. Her ghastly hands were up, and she screamed +with horrible shrillness. The people saw her—saw her hideous face, and +stopped awe-struck—an effect for which extreme human misery, visible as +in this instance, is as potent as majesty in purple and gold. Tirzah, behind +her a little way, fell down too faint and frightened to follow farther. +</p> + +<p> +“The lepers! the lepers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stone them!” +</p> + +<p> +“The accursed of God! Kill them!” +</p> + +<p> +These, with other yells of like import, broke in upon the hosannas of the part +of the multitude too far removed to see and understand the cause of the +interruption. Some there were, however, near by familiar with the nature of the +man to whom the unfortunates were appealing—some who, by long intercourse +with him, had caught somewhat of his divine compassion: they gazed at him, and +were silent while, in fair view, he rode up and stopped in front of the woman. +She also beheld his face—calm, pitiful, and of exceeding beauty, the +large eyes tender with benignant purpose. +</p> + +<p> +And this was the colloquy that ensued: +</p> + +<p> +“O Master, Master! Thou seest our need; thou canst make us clean. Have +mercy upon us—mercy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Believest thou I am able to do this?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou art he of whom the prophets spake—thou art the +Messiah!” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes grew radiant, his manner confident. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” he said, “great is thy faith; be it unto thee even +as thou wilt.” +</p> + +<p> +He lingered an instant after, apparently unconscious of the presence of the +throng—an instant—then he rode away. +</p> + +<p> +To the heart divinely original, yet so human in all the better elements of +humanity, going with sure prevision to a death of all the inventions of men the +foulest and most cruel, breathing even then in the forecast shadow of the awful +event, and still as hungry and thirsty for love and faith as in the beginning, +how precious and ineffably soothing the farewell exclamation of the grateful +woman: +</p> + +<p> +“To God in the highest, glory! Blessed, thrice blessed, the Son whom he +hath given us!” +</p> + +<p> +Immediately both the hosts, that from the city and that from Bethphage, closed +around him with their joyous demonstrations, with hosannas and waving of palms, +and so he passed from the lepers forever. Covering her head, the elder hastened +to Tirzah, and folded her in her arms, crying, “Daughter, look up! I have +his promise; he is indeed the Messiah. We are saved—saved!” And the +two remained kneeling while the procession, slowly going, disappeared over the +mount. When the noise of its singing afar was a sound scarcely heard the +miracle began. +</p> + +<p> +There was first in the hearts of the lepers a freshening of the blood; then it +flowed faster and stronger, thrilling their wasted bodies with an infinitely +sweet sense of painless healing. Each felt the scourge going from her; their +strength revived; they were returning to be themselves. Directly, as if to make +the purification complete, from body to spirit the quickening ran, exalting +them to a very fervor of ecstasy. The power possessing them to this good end +was most nearly that of a draught of swift and happy effect; yet it was unlike +and superior in that its healing and cleansing were absolute, and not merely a +delicious consciousness while in progress, but the planting, growing, and +maturing all at once of a recollection so singular and so holy that the simple +thought of it should be of itself ever after a formless yet perfect +thanksgiving. +</p> + +<p> +To this transformation—for such it may be called quite as properly as a +cure—there was a witness other than Amrah. The reader will remember the +constancy with which Ben-Hur had followed the Nazarene throughout his +wanderings; and now, recalling the conversation of the night before, there will +be little surprise at learning that the young Jew was present when the leprous +woman appeared in the path of the pilgrims. He heard her prayer, and saw her +disfigured face; he heard the answer also, and was not so accustomed to +incidents of the kind, frequent as they had been, as to have lost interest in +them. Had such thing been possible with him, still the bitter disputation +always excited by the simplest display of the Master’s curative gift +would have sufficed to keep his curiosity alive. Besides that, if not above it +as an incentive, his hope to satisfy himself upon the vexed question of the +mission of the mysterious man was still upon him strong as in the beginning; we +might indeed say even stronger, because of a belief that now quickly, before +the sun went down, the man himself would make all known by public proclamation. +At the close of the scene, consequently, Ben-Hur had withdrawn from the +procession, and seated himself upon a stone to wait its passage. +</p> + +<p> +From his place he nodded recognition to many of the people—Galileans in +his league, carrying short swords under their long abbas. After a little a +swarthy Arab came up leading two horses; at a sign from Ben-Hur he also drew +out. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here,” the young master said, when all were gone by, even the +laggards. “I wish to be at the city early, and Aldebaran must do me +service.” +</p> + +<p> +He stroked the broad forehead of the horse, now in his prime of strength and +beauty, then crossed the road towards the two women. +</p> + +<p> +They were to him, it should be borne in mind, strangers in whom he felt +interest only as they were subjects of a superhuman experiment, the result of +which might possibly help him to solution of the mystery that had so long +engaged him. As he proceeded, he glanced casually at the figure of the little +woman over by the white rock, standing there, her face hidden in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“As the Lord liveth, it is Amrah!” he said to himself. +</p> + +<p> +He hurried on, and passing by the mother and daughter, still without +recognizing them, he stopped before the servant. +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah,” he said to her, “Amrah, what do you here?” +</p> + +<p> +She rushed forward, and fell upon her knees before him, blinded by her tears, +nigh speechless with contending joy and fear. +</p> + +<p> +“O master, master! Thy God and mine, how good he is!” +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge we gain from much sympathy with others passing through trials is +but vaguely understood; strangely enough, it enables us, among other things, to +merge our identity into theirs often so completely that their sorrows and their +delights become our own. So poor Amrah, aloof and hiding her face, knew the +transformation the lepers were undergoing without a word spoken to +her—knew it, and shared all their feeling to the full. Her countenance, +her words, her whole manner, betrayed her condition; and with swift +presentiment he connected it with the women he had just passed: he felt her +presence there at that time was in some way associated with them, and turned +hastily as they arose to their feet. His heart stood still, he became rooted in +his tracks—dumb past outcry—awe-struck. +</p> + +<p> +The woman he had seen before the Nazarene was standing with her hands clasped +and eyes streaming, looking towards heaven. The mere transformation would have +been a sufficient surprise; but it was the least of the causes of his emotion. +Could he be mistaken? Never was there in life a stranger so like his mother; +and like her as she was the day the Roman snatched her from him. There was but +one difference to mar the identity—the hair of this person was a little +streaked with gray; yet that was not impossible of reconcilement, since the +intelligence which had directed the miracle might have taken into consideration +the natural effects of the passage of years. And who was it by her side, if not +Tirzah?—fair, beautiful, perfect, more mature, but in all other respects +exactly the same in appearance as when she looked with him over the parapet the +morning of the accident to Gratus. He had given them over as dead, and time had +accustomed him to the bereavement; he had not ceased mourning for them, yet, as +something distinguishable, they had simply dropped out of his plans and dreams. +Scarcely believing his senses, he laid his hand upon the servant’s head, +and asked, tremulously, +</p> + +<p> +“Amrah, Amrah—my mother! Tirzah! tell me if I see aright.” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to them, O master, speak to them!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He waited no longer, but ran, with outstretched arms, crying, “Mother! +mother! Tirzah! Here I am!” +</p> + +<p> +They heard his call, and with a cry as loving started to meet him. Suddenly the +mother stopped, drew back, and uttered the old alarm, +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, Judah, my son; come not nearer. Unclean, unclean!” +</p> + +<p> +The utterance was not from habit, grown since the dread disease struck her, as +much as fear; and the fear was but another form of the ever-thoughtful maternal +love. Though they were healed in person, the taint of the scourge might be in +their garments ready for communication. He had no such thought. They were +before him; he had called them, they had answered. Who or what should keep them +from him now? Next moment the three, so long separated, were mingling their +tears in each other’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +The first ecstasy over, the mother said, “In this happiness, O my +children, let us not be ungrateful. Let us begin life anew by acknowledgment of +him to whom we are all so indebted.” +</p> + +<p> +They fell upon their knees, Amrah with the rest; and the prayer of the elder +outspoken was as a psalm. +</p> + +<p> +Tirzah repeated it word for word; so did Ben-Hur, but not with the same clear +mind and questionless faith; for when they were risen, he asked, +</p> + +<p> +“In Nazareth, where the man was born, mother, they call him the son of a +carpenter. What is he?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes rested upon him with all their old tenderness, and she answered as she +had answered the Nazarene himself— +</p> + +<p> +“He is the Messiah.” +</p> + +<p> +“And whence has he his power?” +</p> + +<p> +“We may know by the use he makes of it. Can you tell me any ill he has +done?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“By that sign then I answer, He has his power from God.” +</p> + +<p> +It is not an easy thing to shake off in a moment the expectations nurtured +through years until they have become essentially a part of us; and though +Ben-Hur asked himself what the vanities of the world were to such a one, his +ambition was obdurate and would not down. He persisted as men do yet every day +in measuring the Christ by himself. How much better if we measured ourselves by +the Christ! +</p> + +<p> +Naturally, the mother was the first to think of the cares of life. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall we do now, my son? Where shall we go?” +</p> + +<p> +Then Ben-Hur, recalled to duty, observed how completely every trace of the +scourge had disappeared from his restored people; that each had back her +perfection of person; that, as with Naaman when he came up out of the water, +their flesh had come again like unto the flesh of a little child; and he took +off his cloak, and threw it over Tirzah. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it,” he said, smiling; “the eye of the stranger would +have shunned you before, now it shall not offend you.” +</p> + +<p> +The act exposed a sword belted to his side. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a time of war?” asked the mother, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, then, are you armed?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be necessary to defend the Nazarene.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus Ben-Hur evaded the whole truth. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he enemies? Who are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, mother, they are not all Romans!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he not of Israel, and a man of peace?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was never one more so; but in the opinion of the rabbis and +teachers he is guilty of a great crime.” +</p> + +<p> +“What crime?” +</p> + +<p> +“In his eyes the uncircumcised Gentile is as worthy favor as a Jew of the +strictest habit. He preaches a new dispensation.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother was silent, and they moved to the shade of the tree by the rock. +Calming his impatience to have them home again and hear their story, he showed +them the necessity of obedience to the law governing in cases like theirs, and +in conclusion called the Arab, bidding him take the horses to the gate by +Bethesda and await him there; whereupon they set out by the way of the Mount of +Offence. The return was very different from the coming; they walked rapidly and +with ease, and in good time reached a tomb newly made near that of Absalom, +overlooking the depths of Cedron. Finding it unoccupied, the women took +possession, while he went on hastily to make the preparations required for +their new condition. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap76"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +Ben-Hur pitched two tents out on the Upper Cedron east a short space of the +Tombs of the Kings, and furnished them with every comfort at his command; and +thither, without loss of time, he conducted his mother and sister, to remain +until the examining priest could certify their perfect cleansing. +</p> + +<p> +In course of the duty, the young man had subjected himself to such serious +defilement as to debar him from participation in the ceremonies of the great +feast, then near at hand. He could not enter the least sacred of the courts of +the Temple. Of necessity, not less than choice, therefore, he stayed at the +tents with his beloved people. There was a great deal to hear from them, and a +great deal to tell them of himself. +</p> + +<p> +Stories such as theirs—sad experiences extending through a lapse of +years, sufferings of body, acuter sufferings of mind—are usually long in +the telling, the incidents seldom following each other in threaded connection. +He listened to the narrative and all they told him, with outward patience +masking inward feeling. In fact, his hatred of Rome and Romans reached a higher +mark than ever; his desire for vengeance became a thirst which attempts at +reflection only intensified. In the almost savage bitterness of his humor many +mad impulses took hold of him. The opportunities of the highways presented +themselves with singular force of temptation; he thought seriously of +insurrection in Galilee; even the sea, ordinarily a retrospective horror to +him, stretched itself map-like before his fancy, laced and interlaced with +lines of passage crowded with imperial plunder and imperial travellers; but the +better judgment matured in calmer hours was happily too firmly fixed to be +supplanted by present passion however strong. Each mental venture in reach of +new expedients brought him back to the old conclusion—that there could be +no sound success except in a war involving all Israel in solid union; and all +musing upon the subject, all inquiry, all hope, ended where they began—in +the Nazarene and his purposes. +</p> + +<p> +At odd moments the excited schemer found a pleasure in fashioning a speech for +that person: +</p> + +<p> +“Hear, O Israel! I am he, the promised of God, born King of the +Jews—come to you with the dominion spoken of by the prophets. Rise now, +and lay hold on the world!” +</p> + +<p> +Would the Nazarene but speak these few words, what a tumult would follow! How +many mouths performing the office of trumpets would take them up and blow them +abroad for the massing of armies! +</p> + +<p> +Would he speak them? +</p> + +<p> +And eager to begin the work, and answering in the worldly way, Ben-Hur lost +sight of the double nature of the man, and of the other possibility, that the +divine in him might transcend the human. In the miracle of which Tirzah and his +mother were the witnesses even more nearly than himself, he saw and set apart +and dwelt upon a power ample enough to raise and support a Jewish crown over +the wrecks of the Italian, and more than ample to remodel society, and convert +mankind into one purified happy family; and when that work was done, could any +one say the peace which might then be ordered without hindrance was not a +mission worthy a son of God? Could any one then deny the Redeemership of the +Christ? And discarding all consideration of political consequences, what +unspeakable personal glory there would then be to him as a man? It was not in +the nature of any mere mortal to refuse such a career. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime down the Cedron, and in towards Bezetha, especially on the roadsides +quite up to the Damascus Gate, the country filled rapidly with all kinds of +temporary shelters for pilgrims to the Passover. Ben-Hur visited the strangers, +and talked with them; and returning to his tents, he was each time more and +more astonished at the vastness of their numbers. And when he further +discovered that every part of the world was represented among them—cities +upon both shores of the Mediterranean far off as the Pillars of the West, +river-towns in distant India, provinces in northernmost Europe; and that, +though they frequently saluted him with tongues unacquainted with a syllable of +the old Hebrew of the fathers, these representatives had all the same +object—celebration of the notable feast—an idea tinged mistily with +superstitious fancy forced itself upon him. Might he not after all have +misunderstood the Nazarene? Might not that person by patient waiting be +covering silent preparation, and proving his fitness for the glorious task +before him? How much better this time for the movement than that other when, by +Gennesaret, the Galileans would have forced assumption of the crown? Then the +support would have been limited to a few thousands; now his proclamation would +be responded to by millions—who could say how many? Pursuing this theory +to its conclusions, Ben-Hur moved amidst brilliant promises, and glowed with +the thought that the melancholy man, under gentle seeming and wondrous +self-denial, was in fact carrying in disguise the subtlety of a politician and +the genius of a soldier. +</p> + +<p> +Several times also, in the meanwhile, low-set, brawny men, bareheaded and +black-bearded, came and asked for Ben-Hur at the tent; his interviews with them +were always apart; and to his mother’s question who they were he +answered, +</p> + +<p> +“Some good friends of mine from Galilee.” +</p> + +<p> +Through them he kept informed of the movements of the Nazarene, and of the +schemes of the Nazarene’s enemies, Rabbinical and Roman. That the good +man’s life was in danger, he knew; but that there were any bold enough to +attempt to take it at that time, he could not believe. It seemed too securely +intrenched in a great fame and an assured popularity. The very vastness of the +attendance in and about the city brought with it a seeming guaranty of safety. +And yet, to say truth, Ben-Hur’s confidence rested most certainly upon +the miraculous power of the Christ. Pondering the subject in the purely human +view, that the master of such authority over life and death, used so frequently +for the good of others, would not exert it in care of himself was simply as +much past belief as it was past understanding. +</p> + +<p> +Nor should it be forgotten that all these were incidents of occurrence between +the twenty-first day of March—counting by the modern calendar—and +the twenty-fifth. The evening of the latter day Ben-Hur yielded to his +impatience, and rode to the city, leaving behind him a promise to return in the +night. +</p> + +<p> +The horse was fresh, and choosing his own gait, sped swiftly. The eyes of the +clambering vines winked at the rider from the garden fences on the way; there +was nothing else to see him, nor child nor woman nor man. Through the rocky +float in the hollows of the road the agate hoofs drummed, ringing like cups of +steel; but without notice from any stranger. In the houses passed there were no +tenants; the fires by the tent-doors were out; the road was deserted; for this +was the first Passover eve, and the hour “between the evenings” +when the visiting millions crowded the city, and the slaughter of lambs in +offering reeked the fore-courts of the Temple, and the priests in ordered lines +caught the flowing blood and carried it swiftly to the dripping +altars—when all was haste and hurry, racing with the stars fast coming +with the signal after which the roasting and the eating and the singing might +go on, but not the preparation more. +</p> + +<p> +Through the great northern gate the rider rode, and lo! Jerusalem before the +fall, in ripeness of glory, illuminated for the Lord. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap77"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +Ben-Hur alighted at the gate of the khan from which the three Wise Men more +than thirty years before departed, going down to Bethlehem. There, in keeping +of his Arab followers, he left the horse, and shortly after was at the wicket +of his father’s house, and in a yet briefer space in the great chamber. +He called for Malluch first; that worthy being out, he sent a salutation to his +friends the merchant and the Egyptian. They were being carried abroad to see +the celebration. The latter, he was informed, was very feeble, and in a state +of deep dejection. +</p> + +<p> +Young people of that time who were supposed hardly to know their own hearts +indulged the habit of politic indirection quite as much as young people in the +same condition indulge it in this time; so when Ben-Hur inquired for the good +Balthasar, and with grave courtesy desired to know if he would be pleased to +see him, he really addressed the daughter a notice of his arrival. While the +servant was answering for the elder, the curtain of the doorway was drawn +aside, and the younger Egyptian came in, and walked—or floated, upborne +in a white cloud of the gauzy raiment she so loved and lived in—to the +centre of the chamber, where the light cast by lamps from the seven-armed +brazen stick planted upon the floor was the strongest. With her there was no +fear of light. +</p> + +<p> +The servant left the two alone. +</p> + +<p> +In the excitement occasioned by the events of the few days past Ben-Hur had +scarcely given a thought to the fair Egyptian. If she came to his mind at all, +it was merely as a briefest pleasure, a suggestion of a delight which could +wait for him, and was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +But now the influence of the woman revived with all its force the instant +Ben-Hur beheld her. He advanced to her eagerly, but stopped and gazed. Such a +change he had never seen! +</p> + +<p> +Theretofore she had been a lover studious to win him—in manner all +warmth, each glance an admission, each action an avowal. She had showered him +with incense of flattery. While he was present, she had impressed him with her +admiration; going away, he carried the impression with him to remain a +delicious expectancy hastening his return. It was for him the painted eyelids +drooped lowest over the lustrous almond eyes; for him the love-stories caught +from the professionals abounding in the streets of Alexandria were repeated +with emphasis and lavishment of poetry; for him endless exclamations of +sympathy, and smiles, and little privileges with hand and hair and cheek and +lips, and songs of the Nile, and displays of jewelry, and subtleties of lace in +veils and scarfs, and other subtleties not less exquisite in flosses of Indian +silk. The idea, old as the oldest of peoples, that beauty is the reward of the +hero had never such realism as she contrived for his pleasure; insomuch that he +could not doubt he was her hero; she avouched it in a thousand artful ways as +natural with her as her beauty—winsome ways reserved, it would seem, by +the passionate genius of old Egypt for its daughters. +</p> + +<p> +Such the Egyptian had been to Ben-Hur from the night of the boat-ride on the +lake in the Orchard of Palms. But now! +</p> + +<p> +Elsewhere in this volume the reader may have observed a term of somewhat +indefinite meaning used reverently in a sacred connection; we repeat it now +with a general application. There are few persons who have not a double nature, +the real and the acquired; the latter a kind of addendum resulting from +education, which in time often perfects it into a part of the being as +unquestionable as the first. Leaving the thought to the thoughtful, we proceed +to say that now the real nature of the Egyptian made itself manifest. +</p> + +<p> +It was not possible for her to have received a stranger with repulsion more +incisive; yet she was apparently as passionless as a statue, only the small +head was a little tilted, the nostrils a little drawn, and the sensuous lower +lip pushed the upper the least bit out of its natural curvature. +</p> + +<p> +She was the first to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Your coming is timely, O son of Hur,” she said, in a voice sharply +distinct. “I wish to thank you for hospitality; after to-morrow I may not +have the opportunity to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur bowed slightly without taking his eyes from her. +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of a custom which the dice-players observe with good result +among themselves,” she continued. “When the game is over, they +refer to their tablets and cast up their accounts; then they libate the gods +and put a crown upon the happy winner. We have had a game—it has lasted +through many days and nights. Why, now that it is at an end, shall not we see +to which the chaplet belongs?” +</p> + +<p> +Yet very watchful, Ben-Hur answered, lightly, “A man may not balk a woman +bent on having her way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” she continued, inclining her head, and permitting the +sneer to become positive—“tell me, O prince of Jerusalem, where is +he, that son of the carpenter of Nazareth, and son not less of God, from whom +so lately such mighty things were expected?” +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand impatiently, and replied, “I am not his keeper.” +</p> + +<p> +The beautiful head sank forward yet lower. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he broken Rome to pieces?” +</p> + +<p> +Again, but with anger, Ben-Hur raised his hand in deprecation. +</p> + +<p> +“Where has he seated his capital?” she proceeded. “Cannot I +go see his throne and its lions of bronze? And his palace—he raised the +dead; and to such a one, what is it to raise a golden house? He has but to +stamp his foot and say the word, and the house is, pillared like Karnak, and +wanting nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +There was by this time slight ground left to believe her playing; the questions +were offensive, and her manner pointed with unfriendliness; seeing which, he on +his side became more wary, and said, with good humor, “O Egypt, let us +wait another day, even another week, for him, the lions, and the palace.” +</p> + +<p> +She went on without noticing the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“And how is it I see you in that garb? Such is not the habit of governors +in India or vice-kings elsewhere. I saw the satrap of Teheran once, and he wore +a turban of silk and a cloak of cloth of gold, and the hilt and scabbard of his +sword made me dizzy with their splendor of precious stones. I thought Osiris +had lent him a glory from the sun. I fear you have not entered upon your +kingdom—the kingdom I was to share with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The daughter of my wise guest is kinder than she imagines herself; she +is teaching me that Isis may kiss a heart without making it better.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur spoke with cold courtesy, and Iras, after playing with the pendent +solitaire of her necklace of coins, rejoined, “For a Jew, the son of Hur +is clever. I saw your dreaming Cæsar make his entry into Jerusalem. You told +us he would that day proclaim himself King of the Jews from the steps of the +Temple. I beheld the procession descend the mountain bringing him. I heard +their singing. They were beautiful with palms in motion. I looked everywhere +among them for a figure with a promise of royalty—a horseman in purple, a +chariot with a driver in shining brass, a stately warrior behind an orbed +shield, rivalling his spear in stature. I looked for his guard. It would have +been pleasant to have seen a prince of Jerusalem and a cohort of the legions of +Galilee.” +</p> + +<p> +She flung her listener a glance of provoking disdain, then laughed heartily, as +if the ludicrousness of the picture in her mind were too strong for contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“Instead of a Sesostris returning in triumph or a Cæsar helmed and +sworded—ha, ha, ha!—I saw a man with a woman’s face and hair, +riding an ass’s colt, and in tears. The King! the Son of God! the +Redeemer of the world! Ha, ha, ha!” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself, Ben-Hur winced. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not quit my place, O prince of Jerusalem,” she said, before +he could recover. “I did not laugh. I said to myself, ‘Wait. In the +Temple he will glorify himself as becomes a hero about to take possession of +the world.’ I saw him enter the Gate of Shushan and the Court of the +Women. I saw him stop and stand before the Gate Beautiful. There were people +with me on the porch and in the courts, and on the cloisters and on the steps +of the three sides of the Temple there were other people—I will say a +million of people, all waiting breathlessly to hear his proclamation. The +pillars were not more still than we. Ha, ha, ha! I fancied I heard the axles of +the mighty Roman machine begin to crack. Ha, ha, ha! O prince, by the soul of +Solomon, your King of the World drew his gown about him and walked away, and +out by the farthest gate, nor opened his mouth to say a word; and—the +Roman machine is running yet!” +</p> + +<p> +In simple homage to a hope that instant lost—a hope which, as it began to +fall and while it was falling, he unconsciously followed with a parting look +down to its disappearance—Ben-Hur lowered his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +At no previous time, whether when Balthasar was plying him with arguments, or +when miracles were being done before his face, had the disputed nature of the +Nazarene been so plainly set before him. The best way, after all, to reach an +understanding of the divine is by study of the human. In the things superior to +men we may always look to find God. So with the picture given by the Egyptian +of the scene when the Nazarene turned from the Gate Beautiful; its central +theme was an act utterly beyond performance by a man under control of merely +human inspirations. A parable to a parable-loving people, it taught what the +Christ had so often asserted—that his mission was not political. There +was not much more time for thought of all this than that allowed for a common +respiration; yet the idea took fast hold of Ben-Hur, and in the same instant he +followed his hope of vengeance out of sight, and the man with the woman’s +face and hair, and in tears, came near to him—near enough to leave +something of his spirit behind. +</p> + +<p> +“Daughter of Balthasar,” he said, with dignity, “if this be +the game of which you spoke to me, take the chaplet—I accord it yours. +Only let us make an end of words. That you have a purpose I am sure. To it, I +pray, and I will answer you; then let us go our several ways, and forget we +ever met. Say on; I will listen, but not to more of that which you have given +me.” +</p> + +<p> +She regarded him intently a moment, as if determining what to do—possibly +she might have been measuring his will—then she said, coldly, “You +have my leave—go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you,” he responded, and walked away. +</p> + +<p> +As he was about passing out of the door, she called to him. +</p> + +<p> +“A word.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped where he was, and looked back. +</p> + +<p> +“Consider all I know about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“O most fair Egyptian,” he said, returning, “what all do you +know about me?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him absently. +</p> + +<p> +“You are more of a Roman, son of Hur, then any of your Hebrew +brethren.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I so unlike my countrymen?” he asked, indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +“The demi-gods are all Roman now,” she rejoined. +</p> + +<p> +“And therefore you will tell me what more you know about me?” +</p> + +<p> +“The likeness is not lost upon me. It might induce me to save you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Save me!” +</p> + +<p> +The pink-stained fingers toyed daintily with the lustrous pendant at the +throat, and her voice was exceeding low and soft; only a tapping on the floor +with her silken sandal admonished him to have a care. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a Jew, an escaped galley-slave, who killed a man in the Palace +of Idernee,” she began, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was startled. +</p> + +<p> +“The same Jew slew a Roman soldier before the Market-place here in +Jerusalem; the same Jew has three trained legions from Galilee to seize the +Roman governor to-night; the same Jew has alliances perfected for war upon +Rome, and Ilderim the Sheik is one of his partners.” +</p> + +<p> +Drawing nearer him, she almost whispered, +</p> + +<p> +“You have lived in Rome. Suppose these things repeated in ears we know +of. Ah! you change color.” +</p> + +<p> +He drew back from her with somewhat of the look which may be imagined upon the +face of a man who, thinking to play with a kitten, has run upon a tiger; and +she proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“You are acquainted in the antechamber, and know the Lord Sejanus. +Suppose it were told him with the proofs in hand—or without the +proofs—that the same Jew is the richest man in the East—nay, in all +the empire. The fishes of the Tiber would have fattening other than that they +dig out of its ooze, would they not? And while they were feeding—ha! son +of Hur!—what splendor there would be on exhibition in the Circus! Amusing +the Roman people is a fine art; getting the money to keep them amused is +another art even finer; and was there ever an artist the equal of the Lord +Sejanus?” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur was not too much stirred by the evident baseness of the woman for +recollection. Not unfrequently when all the other faculties are numb and +failing memory does its offices with the greatest fidelity. The scene at the +spring on the way to the Jordan reproduced itself; and he remembered thinking +then that Esther had betrayed him, and thinking so now, he said calmly as he +could, +</p> + +<p> +“To give you pleasure, daughter of Egypt, I acknowledge your cunning, and +that I am at your mercy. It may also please you to hear me acknowledge I have +no hope of your favor. I could kill you, but you are a woman. The Desert is +open to receive me; and though Rome is a good hunter of men, there she would +follow long and far before she caught me, for in its heart there are +wildernesses of spears as well as wildernesses of sand, and it is not unlovely +to the unconquered Parthian. In the toils as I am—dupe that I have +been—yet there is one thing my due: who told you all you know about me? +In flight or captivity, dying even, there will be consolation in leaving the +traitor the curse of a man who has lived knowing nothing but wretchedness. Who +told you all you know about me?” +</p> + +<p> +It might have been a touch of art, or might have been sincere—that as it +may—the expression of the Egyptian’s face became sympathetic. +</p> + +<p> +“There are in my country, O son of Hur,” she said, presently, +“workmen who make pictures by gathering vari-colored shells here and +there on the sea-shore after storms, and cutting them up, and patching the +pieces as inlaying on marble slabs. Can you not see the hint there is in the +practice to such as go searching for secrets? Enough that from this person I +gathered a handful of little circumstances, and from that other yet another +handful, and that afterwhile I put them together, and was happy as a woman can +be who has at disposal the fortune and life of a man whom”—she +stopped, and beat the floor with her foot, and looked away as if to hide a +sudden emotion from him; with an air of even painful resolution she presently +finished the sentence—“whom she is at loss what to do with.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is not enough,” Ben-Hur said, unmoved by the +play—“it is not enough. To-morrow you will determine what to do +with me. I may die.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” she rejoined quickly and with emphasis, “I had +something from Sheik Ilderim as he lay with my father in a grove out in the +Desert. The night was still, very still, and the walls of the tent, sooth to +say, were poor ward against ears outside listening to—birds and beetles +flying through the air.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at the conceit, but proceeded: +</p> + +<p> +“Some other things—bits of shell for the picture—I had +from—” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“The son of Hur himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was there no other who contributed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not one.” +</p> + +<p> +Hur drew a breath of relief, and said, lightly, “Thanks. It were not well +to keep the Lord Sejanus waiting for you. The Desert is not so sensitive. +Again, O Egypt, peace!” +</p> + +<p> +To this time he had been standing uncovered; now he took the handkerchief from +his arm where it had been hanging, and adjusting it upon his head, turned to +depart. But she arrested him; in her eagerness, she even reached a hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He looked back at her, but without taking the hand, though it was very +noticeable for its sparkling of jewels; and he knew by her manner that the +reserved point of the scene which was so surprising to him was now to come. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, and do not distrust me, O son of Hur, if I declare I know why the +noble Arrius took you for his heir. And, by Isis! by all the gods of Egypt! I +swear I tremble to think of you, so brave and generous, under the hand of the +remorseless minister. You have left a portion of your youth in the atria of the +great capital; consider, as I do, what the Desert will be to you in contrast of +life. Oh, I give you pity—pity! And if you but do what I say, I will save +you. That, also, I swear, by our holy Isis!” +</p> + +<p> +Words of entreaty and prayer these, poured forth volubly and with earnestness +and the mighty sanction of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“Almost—almost I believe you,” Ben-Hur said, yet +hesitatingly, and in a voice low and indistinct; for a doubt remained with him +grumbling against the yielding tendency of the man—a good sturdy doubt, +such a one as has saved many a life and fortune. +</p> + +<p> +“The perfect life for a woman is to live in love; the greatest happiness +for a man is the conquest of himself; and that, O prince, is what I have to ask +of you.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke rapidly, and with animation; indeed, she had never appeared to him so +fascinating. +</p> + +<p> +“You had once a friend,” she continued. “It was in your +boyhood. There was a quarrel, and you and he became enemies. He did you wrong. +After many years you met him again in the Circus at Antioch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Messala!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Messala. You are his creditor. Forgive the past; admit him to +friendship again; restore the fortune he lost in the great wager; rescue him. +The six talents are as nothing to you; not so much as a bud lost upon a tree +already in full leaf; but to him— Ah, he must go about with a broken +body; wherever you meet him he must look up to you from the ground. O Ben-Hur, +noble prince! to a Roman descended as he is beggary is the other most odious +name for death. Save him from beggary!” +</p> + +<p> +If the rapidity with which she spoke was a cunning invention to keep him from +thinking, either she never knew or else had forgotten that there are +convictions which derive nothing from thought, but drop into place without +leave or notice. It seemed to him, when at last she paused to have his answer, +that he could see Messala himself peering at him over her shoulder; and in its +expression the countenance of the Roman was not that of a mendicant or a +friend; the sneer was as patrician as ever, and the fine edge of the hauteur as +flawless and irritating. +</p> + +<p> +“The appeal has been decided then, and for once a Messala takes nothing. +I must go and write it in my book of great occurrences—a judgment by a +Roman against a Roman! But did he—did Messala send you to me with this +request, O Egypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has a noble nature, and judged you by it.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur took the hand upon arm. +</p> + +<p> +“As you know him in such friendly way, fair Egyptian, tell me, would he +do for me, there being a reversal of the conditions, that he asks of me? +Answer, by Isis! Answer, for the truth’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +There was insistence in the touch of his hand, and in his look also. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she began, “he is—” +</p> + +<p> +“A Roman, you were about to say; meaning that I, a Jew, must not +determine dues from me to him by any measure of dues from him to me; being a +Jew, I must forgive him my winnings because he is a Roman. If you have more to +tell me, daughter of Balthasar, speak quickly, quickly; for by the Lord God of +Israel, when this heat of blood, hotter waxing, attains its highest, I may not +be able longer to see that you are a woman, and beautiful! I may see but the +spy of a master the more hateful because the master is a Roman. Say on, and +quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +She threw his hand off and stepped back into the full light, with all the evil +of her nature collected in her eyes and voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou drinker of lees, feeder upon husks! To think I could love thee, +having seen Messala! Such as thou were born to serve him. He would have been +satisfied with release of the six talents; but I say to the six thou shalt add +twenty—twenty, dost thou hear? The kissings of my little finger which +thou hast taken from him, though with my consent, shall be paid for; and that I +have followed thee with affection of sympathy, and endured thee so long, enter +into the account not less because I was serving him. The merchant here is thy +keeper of moneys. If by to-morrow at noon he has not thy order acted upon in +favor of my Messala for six-and-twenty talents—mark the sum!—thou +shalt settle with the Lord Sejanus. Be wise and—farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +As she was going to the door, he put himself in her way. +</p> + +<p> +“The old Egypt lives in you,” he said. “Whether you see +Messala to-morrow or the next day, here or in Rome, give him this message. Tell +him I have back the money, even the six talents, he robbed me of by robbing my +father’s estate; tell him I survived the galleys to which he had me sent, +and in my strength rejoice in his beggary and dishonor; tell him I think the +affliction of body which he has from my hand is the curse of our Lord God of +Israel upon him more fit than death for his crimes against the helpless; tell +him my mother and sister whom he had sent to a cell in Antonia that they might +die of leprosy, are alive and well, thanks to the power of the Nazarene whom +you so despise; tell him that, to fill my measure of happiness, they are +restored to me, and that I will go hence to their love, and find in it more +than compensation for the impure passions which you leave me to take to him; +tell him—this for your comfort, O cunning incarnate, as much as +his—tell him that when the Lord Sejanus comes to despoil me he will find +nothing; for the inheritance I had from the duumvir, including the villa by +Misenum, has been sold, and the money from the sale is out of reach, afloat in +the marts of the world as bills of exchange; and that this house and the goods +and merchandise and the ships and caravans with which Simonides plies his +commerce with such princely profits are covered by imperial safeguards—a +wise head having found the price of the favor, and the Lord Sejanus preferring +a reasonable gain in the way of gift to much gain fished from pools of blood +and wrong; tell him if all this were not so, if the money and property were all +mine, yet should he not have the least part of it, for when he finds our Jewish +bills, and forces them to give up their values, there is yet another resort +left me—a deed of gift to Cæsar—so much, O Egypt, I found out in +the atria of the great capital; tell him that along with my defiance I do not +send him a curse in words, but, as a better expression of my undying hate, I +send him one who will prove to him the sum of all curses; and when he looks at +you repeating this my message, daughter of Balthasar, his Roman shrewdness will +tell him all I mean. Go now—and I will go.” +</p> + +<p> +He conducted her to the door, and, with ceremonious politeness, held back the +curtain while she passed out. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you,” he said, as she disappeared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap78"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +When Ben-Hur left the guest-chamber, there was not nearly so much life in his +action as when he entered it; his steps were slower, and he went along with his +head quite upon his breast. Having made discovery that a man with a broken back +may yet have a sound brain, he was reflecting upon the discovery. +</p> + +<p> +Forasmuch as it is easy after a calamity has befallen to look back and see the +proofs of its coming strewn along the way, the thought that he had not even +suspected the Egyptian as in Messala’s interest, but had gone blindly on +through whole years putting himself and his friends more and more at her mercy, +was a sore wound to the young man’s vanity. “I remember,” he +said to himself, “she had no word of indignation for the perfidious Roman +at the Fountain of Castalia! I remember she extolled him at the boat-ride on +the lake in the Orchard of Palms! And, ah!”—he stopped, and beat +his left hand violently with his right—“ah! that mystery about the +appointment she made with me at the Palace of Idernee is no mystery now!” +</p> + +<p> +The wound, it should be observed, was to his vanity; and fortunately it is not +often that people die of such hurts, or even continue a long time sick. In +Ben-Hur’s case, moreover, there was a compensation; for presently he +exclaimed aloud, “Praised be the Lord God that the woman took not a more +lasting hold on me! I see I did not love her.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as if he had already parted with not a little of the weight on his mind, +he stepped forward more lightly; and, coming to the place on the terrace where +one stairway led down to the court-yard below, and another ascended to the +roof, he took the latter and began to climb. As he made the last step in the +flight he stopped again. +</p> + +<p> +“Can Balthasar have been her partner in the long mask she has been +playing? No, no. Hypocrisy seldom goes with wrinkled age like that. Balthasar +is a good man.” +</p> + +<p> +With this decided opinion he stepped upon the roof. There was a full moon +overhead, yet the vault of the sky at the moment was lurid with light cast up +from the fires burning in the streets and open places of the city, and the +chanting and chorusing of the old psalmody of Israel filled it with plaintive +harmonies to which he could not but listen. The countless voices bearing the +burden seemed to say, “Thus, O son of Judah, we prove our worshipfulness +of the Lord God, and our loyalty to the land he gave us. Let a Gideon appear, +or a David, or a Maccabaeus, and we are ready.” +</p> + +<p> +That seemed an introduction; for next he saw the man of Nazareth. +</p> + +<p> +In certain moods the mind is disposed to mock itself with inapposite fancies. +</p> + +<p> +The tearful woman-like face of the Christ stayed with him while he crossed the +roof to the parapet above the street on the north side of the house, and there +was in it no sign of war; but rather as the heavens of calm evenings look peace +upon everything, so it looked, provoking the old question, What manner of man +is he? +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur permitted himself one glance over the parapet, then turned and walked +mechanically towards the summer-house. +</p> + +<p> +“Let them do their worst,” he said, as he went slowly on. “I +will not forgive the Roman. I will not divide my fortune with him, nor will I +fly from this city of my fathers. I will call on Galilee first, and here make +the fight. By brave deeds I will bring the tribes to our side. He who raised up +Moses will find us a leader, if I fail. If not the Nazarene, then some other of +the many ready to die for freedom.” +</p> + +<p> +The interior of the summer-house, when Ben-Hur, slow sauntering, came to it, +was murkily lighted. The faintest of shadows lay along the floor from the +pillars on the north and west sides. Looking in, he saw the arm-chair usually +occupied by Simonides drawn to a spot from which a view of the city over +towards the Market-place could be best had. +</p> + +<p> +“The good man is returned. I will speak with him, unless he be +asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked in, and with a quiet step approached the chair. Peering over the high +back, he beheld Esther nestled in the seat asleep—a small figure snugged +away under her father’s lap-robe. The hair dishevelled fell over her +face. Her breathing was low and irregular. Once it was broken by a long sigh, +ending in a sob. Something—it might have been the sigh or the loneliness +in which he found her—imparted to him the idea that the sleep was a rest +from sorrow rather than fatigue. Nature kindly sends such relief to children, +and he was used to thinking Esther scarcely more than a child. He put his arms +upon the back of the chair, and thought. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not wake her. I have nothing to tell her—nothing +unless—unless it be my love.... She is a daughter of Judah, and +beautiful, and so unlike the Egyptian; for there it is all vanity, here all +truth; there ambition, here duty; there selfishness, here self-sacrifice.... +Nay, the question is not do I love her, but does she love me? She was my friend +from the beginning. The night on the terrace at Antioch, how child-like she +begged me not to make Rome my enemy, and had me tell her of the villa by +Misenum, and of the life there! That she should not see I saw her cunning drift +I kissed her. Can she have forgotten the kiss! I have not. I love her.... They +do not know in the city that I have back my people. I shrank from telling it to +the Egyptian; but this little one will rejoice with me over their restoration, +and welcome them with love and sweet services of hand and heart. She will be to +my mother another daughter; in Tirzah she will find her other self. I would +wake her and tell her these things, but—out on the sorceress of Egypt! Of +that folly I could not command myself to speak. I will go away, and wait +another and a better time. I will wait. Fair Esther, dutiful child, daughter of +Judah!” +</p> + +<p> +He retired silently as he came. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap79"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +The streets were full of people going and coming, or grouped about the fires +roasting meat, and feasting and singing, and happy. The odor of scorching flesh +mixed with the odor of cedar-wood aflame and smoking loaded the air; and as +this was the occasion when every son of Israel was full brother to every other +son of Israel, and hospitality was without bounds, Ben-Hur was saluted at every +step, while the groups by the fires insisted, “Stay and partake with us. +We are brethren in the love of the Lord.” But with thanks to them he +hurried on, intending to take horse at the khan and return to the tents on the +Cedron. +</p> + +<p> +To make the place, it was necessary for him to cross the thoroughfare so soon +to receive sorrowful Christian perpetuation. There also the pious celebration +was at its height. Looking up the street, he noticed the flames of torches in +motion streaming out like pennons; then he observed that the singing ceased +where the torches came. His wonder rose to its highest, however, when he became +certain that amidst the smoke and dancing sparks he saw the keener sparkling of +burnished spear-tips, arguing the presence of Roman soldiers. What were they, +the scoffing legionaries, doing in a Jewish religious procession? The +circumstance was unheard of, and he stayed to see the meaning of it. +</p> + +<p> +The moon was shining its best; yet, as if the moon and the torches, and the +fires in the street, and the rays streaming from windows and open doors were +not enough to make the way clear, some of the processionists carried lighted +lanterns; and fancying he discovered a special purpose in the use of such +equipments, Ben-Hur stepped into the street so close to the line of march as to +bring every one of the company under view while passing. The torches and the +lanterns were being borne by servants, each of whom was armed with a bludgeon +or a sharpened stave. Their present duty seemed to be to pick out the smoothest +paths among the rocks in the street for certain dignitaries among +them—elders and priests; rabbis with long beards, heavy brows, and beaked +noses; men of the class potential in the councils of Caiaphas and Hannas. Where +could they be going? Not to the Temple, certainly, for the route to the sacred +house from Zion, whence these appeared to be coming, was by the Xystus. And +their business—if peaceful, why the soldiers? +</p> + +<p> +As the procession began to go by Ben-Hur, his attention was particularly called +to three persons walking together. They were well towards the front, and the +servants who went before them with lanterns appeared unusually careful in the +service. In the person moving on the left of this group he recognized a chief +policeman of the Temple; the one on the right was a priest; the middle man was +not at first so easily placed, as he walked leaning heavily upon the arms of +the others, and carried his head so low upon his breast as to hide his face. +His appearance was that of a prisoner not yet recovered from the fright of +arrest, or being taken to something dreadful—to torture or death. The +dignitaries helping him on the right and left, and the attention they gave him, +made it clear that if he were not himself the object moving the party, he was +at least in some way connected with the object—a witness or a guide, +possibly an informer. So if it could be found who he was the business in hand +might be shrewdly guessed. With great assurance, Ben-Hur fell in on the right +of the priest, and walked along with him. Now if the man would lift his head! +And presently he did so, letting the light of the lanterns strike full in his +face, pale, dazed, pinched with dread; the beard roughed; the eyes filmy, +sunken, and despairing. In much going about following the Nazarene, Ben-Hur had +come to know his disciples as well as the Master; and now, at sight of the +dismal countenance, he cried out, +</p> + +<p> +“The ’Scariot!” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the head of the man turned until his eyes settled upon Ben-Hur, and his +lips moved as if he were about to speak; but the priest interfered. +</p> + +<p> +“Who art thou? Begone!” he said to Ben-Hur, pushing him away. +</p> + +<p> +The young man took the push good-naturedly, and, waiting an opportunity, fell +into the procession again. Thus he was carried passively along down the street, +through the crowded lowlands between the hill Bezetha and the Castle of +Antonia, and on by the Bethesda reservoir to the Sheep Gate. There were people +everywhere, and everywhere the people were engaged in sacred observances. +</p> + +<p> +It being Passover night, the valves of the Gate stood open. The keepers were +off somewhere feasting. In front of the procession as it passed out +unchallenged was the deep gorge of the Cedron, with Olivet beyond, its dressing +of cedar and olive trees darker of the moonlight silvering all the heavens. Two +roads met and merged into the street at the gate—one from the northeast, +the other from Bethany. Ere Ben-Hur could finish wondering whether he were to +go farther, and if so, which road was to be taken, he was led off down into the +gorge. And still no hint of the purpose of the midnight march. +</p> + +<p> +Down the gorge and over the bridge at the bottom of it. There was a great +clatter on the floor as the crowd, now a straggling rabble, passed over beating +and pounding with their clubs and staves. A little farther, and they turned off +to the left in the direction of an olive orchard enclosed by a stone wall in +view from the road. Ben-Hur knew there was nothing in the place but old gnarled +trees, the grass, and a trough hewn out of a rock for the treading of oil after +the fashion of the country. While, yet more wonder-struck, he was thinking what +could bring such a company at such an hour to a quarter so lonesome, they were +all brought to a standstill. Voices called out excitedly in front; a chill +sensation ran from man to man; there was a rapid falling-back, and a blind +stumbling over each other. The soldiers alone kept their order. +</p> + +<p> +It took Ben-Hur but a moment to disengage himself from the mob and run forward. +There he found a gateway without a gate admitting to the orchard, and he halted +to take in the scene. +</p> + +<p> +A man in white clothes, and bareheaded, was standing outside the entrance, his +hands crossed before him—a slender, stooping figure, with long hair and +thin face—in an attitude of resignation and waiting. +</p> + +<p> +It was the Nazarene! +</p> + +<p> +Behind him, next the gateway, were the disciples in a group; they were excited, +but no man was ever calmer than he. The torchlight beat redly upon him, giving +his hair a tint ruddier than was natural to it; yet the expression of the +countenance was as usual all gentleness and pity. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite this most unmartial figure stood the rabble, gaping, silent, awed, +cowering—ready at a sign of anger from him to break and run. And from him +to them—then at Judas, conspicuous in their midst—Ben-Hur +looked—one quick glance, and the object of the visit lay open to his +understanding. Here was the betrayer, there the betrayed; and these with clubs +and staves, and the legionaries, were brought to take him. +</p> + +<p> +A man may not always tell what he will do until the trial is upon him. This was +the emergency for which Ben-Hur had been for years preparing. The man to whose +security he had devoted himself, and upon whose life he had been building so +largely, was in personal peril; yet he stood still. Such contradictions are +there in human nature! To say truth, O reader, he was not entirely recovered +from the picture of the Christ before the Gate Beautiful as it had been given +by the Egyptian; and, besides that, the very calmness with which the mysterious +person confronted the mob held him in restraint by suggesting the possession of +a power in reserve more than sufficient for the peril. Peace and good-will, and +love and non-resistance, had been the burden of the Nazarene’s teaching; +would he put his preaching into practice? He was master of life; he could +restore it when lost; he could take it at pleasure. What use would he make of +the power now? Defend himself? And how? A word—a breath—a thought +were sufficient. That there would be some signal exhibition of astonishing +force beyond the natural Ben-Hur believed, and in that faith waited. And in all +this he was still measuring the Nazarene by himself—by the human +standard. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the clear voice of the Christ arose. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom seek ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jesus of Nazareth,” the priest replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I am he.” +</p> + +<p> +At these simplest of words, spoken without passion or alarm, the assailants +fell back several steps, the timid among them cowering to the ground; and they +might have let him alone and gone away had not Judas walked over to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Hail, master!” +</p> + +<p> +With this friendly speech, he kissed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Judas,” said the Nazarene, mildly, “betrayest thou the Son +of man with a kiss? Wherefore art thou come?” +</p> + +<p> +Receiving no reply, the Master spoke to the crowd again. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom seek ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jesus of Nazareth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you that I am he. If, therefore, you seek me, let these go +their way.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words of entreaty the rabbis advanced upon him; and, seeing their +intent, some of the disciples for whom he interceded drew nearer; one of them +cut off a man’s ear, but without saving the Master from being taken. And +yet Ben-Hur stood still! Nay, while the officers were making ready with their +ropes the Nazarene was doing his greatest charity—not the greatest in +deed, but the very greatest in illustration of his forbearance, so far +surpassing that of men. +</p> + +<p> +“Suffer ye thus far,” he said to the wounded man, and healed him +with a touch. +</p> + +<p> +Both friends and enemies were confounded—one side that he could do such a +thing, the other that he would do it under the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely he will not allow them to bind him!” +</p> + +<p> +Thus thought Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Put up thy sword into the sheath; the cup which my Father hath given me, +shall I not drink it?” From the offending follower, the Nazarene turned +to his captors. “Are you come out as against a thief, with swords and +staves to take me? I was daily with you in the Temple, and you took me not; but +this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” +</p> + +<p> +The posse plucked up courage and closed about him; and when Ben-Hur looked for +the faithful they were gone—not one of them remained. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd about the deserted man seemed very busy with tongue, hand, and foot. +Over their heads, between the torch-sticks, through the smoke, sometimes in +openings between the restless men, Ben-Hur caught momentary glimpses of the +prisoner. Never had anything struck him as so piteous, so unfriended, so +forsaken! Yet, he thought, the man could have defended himself—he could +have slain his enemies with a breath, but he would not. What was the cup his +father had given him to drink? And who was the father to be so obeyed? Mystery +upon mystery—not one, but many. +</p> + +<p> +Directly the mob started in return to the city, the soldiers in the lead. +Ben-Hur became anxious; he was not satisfied with himself. Where the torches +were in the midst of the rabble he knew the Nazarene was to be found. Suddenly +he resolved to see him again. He would ask him one question. +</p> + +<p> +Taking off his long outer garment and the handkerchief from his head, he threw +them upon the orchard wall, and started after the posse, which he boldly +joined. Through the stragglers he made way, and by littles at length reached +the man who carried the ends of the rope with which the prisoner was bound. +</p> + +<p> +The Nazarene was walking slowly, his head down, his hands bound behind him; the +hair fell thickly over his face, and he stooped more than usual; apparently he +was oblivious to all going on around him. In advance a few steps were priests +and elders talking and occasionally looking back. When, at length, they were +all near the bridge in the gorge, Ben-Hur took the rope from the servant who +had it, and stepped past him. +</p> + +<p> +“Master, master!” he said, hurriedly, speaking close to the +Nazarene’s ear. “Dost thou hear, master? A word—one word. +Tell me—” +</p> + +<p> +The fellow from whom he had taken the rope now claimed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” Ben-Hur continued, “goest thou with these of thine +own accord?” +</p> + +<p> +The people were come up now, and in his own ears asking angrily, “Who art +thou, man?” +</p> + +<p> +“O master,” Ben-Hur made haste to say, his voice sharp with +anxiety, “I am thy friend and lover. Tell me, I pray thee, if I bring +rescue, wilt thou accept it?” +</p> + +<p> +The Nazarene never so much as looked up or allowed the slightest sign of +recognition; yet the something which when we are suffering is always telling it +to such as look at us, though they be strangers, failed not now. “Let him +alone,” it seemed to say; “he has been abandoned by his friends; +the world has denied him; in bitterness of spirit, he has taken farewell of +men; he is going he knows not where, and he cares not. Let him alone.” +</p> + +<p> +And to that Ben-Hur was now driven. A dozen hands were upon him, and from all +sides there was shouting, “He is one of them. Bring him along; club +him—kill him!” +</p> + +<p> +With a gust of passion which gave him many times his ordinary force, Ben-Hur +raised himself, turned once about with arms outstretched, shook the hands off, +and rushed through the circle which was fast hemming him in. The hands +snatching at him as he passed tore his garments from his back, so he ran off +the road naked; and the gorge, in keeping of the friendly darkness, darker +there than elsewhere, received him safe. +</p> + +<p> +Reclaiming his handkerchief and outer garments from the orchard wall, he +followed back to the city gate; thence he went to the khan, and on the good +horse rode to the tents of his people out by the Tombs of the Kings. +</p> + +<p> +As he rode, he promised himself to see the Nazarene on the +morrow—promised it, not knowing that the unfriended man was taken +straightway to the house of Hannas to be tried that night. +</p> + +<p> +The heart the young man carried to his couch beat so heavily he could not +sleep; for now clearly his renewed Judean kingdom resolved itself into what it +was—only a dream. It is bad enough to see our castles overthrown one +after another with an interval between in which to recover from the shock, or +at least let the echoes of the fall die away; but when they go +altogether—go as ships sink, as houses tumble in earthquakes—the +spirits which endure it calmly are made of stuffs sterner than common, and +Ben-Hur’s was not of them. Through vistas in the future, he began to +catch glimpses of a life serenely beautiful, with a home instead of a palace of +state, and Esther its mistress. Again and again through the leaden-footed hours +of the night he saw the villa by Misenum, and with his little countrywoman +strolled through the garden, and rested in the panelled atrium; overhead the +Neapolitan sky, at their feet the sunniest of sun-lands and the bluest of bays. +</p> + +<p> +In plainest speech, he was entering upon a crisis with which to-morrow and the +Nazarene will have everything to do. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap80"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +Next morning, about the second hour, two men rode full speed to the doors of +Ben-Hur’s tents, and dismounting, asked to see him. He was not yet risen, +but gave directions for their admission. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, brethren,” he said, for they were of his Galileans, +and trusted officers. “Will you be seated?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” the senior replied, bluntly, “to sit and be at ease is +to let the Nazarene die. Rise, son of Judah, and go with us. The judgment has +been given. The tree of the cross is already at Golgotha.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur stared at them. +</p> + +<p> +“The cross!” was all he could for the moment say. +</p> + +<p> +“They took him last night, and tried him,” the man continued. +“At dawn they led him before Pilate. Twice the Roman denied his guilt; +twice he refused to give him over. At last he washed his hands, and said, +‘Be it upon you then;’ and they answered—” +</p> + +<p> +“Who answered?” +</p> + +<p> +“They—the priests and people—‘His blood be upon us and +our children.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Holy father Abraham!” cried Ben-Hur; “a Roman kinder to an +Israelite than his own kin! And if—ah, if he should indeed be the son of +God, what shall ever wash his blood from their children? It must not +be—’tis time to fight!” +</p> + +<p> +His face brightened with resolution, and he clapped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“The horses—and quickly!” he said to the Arab who answered +the signal. “And bid Amrah send me fresh garments, and bring my sword! It +is time to die for Israel, my friends. Tarry without till I come.” +</p> + +<p> +He ate a crust, drank a cup of wine, and was soon upon the road. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither would you go first?” asked the Galilean. +</p> + +<p> +“To collect the legions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” the man replied, throwing up his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Why alas?” +</p> + +<p> +“Master”—the man spoke with shame—“master, I and +my friend here are all that are faithful. The rest do follow the +priests.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seeking what?” and Ben-Hur drew rein. +</p> + +<p> +“To kill him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the Nazarene?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have said it.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur looked slowly from one man to the other. He was hearing again the +question of the night before: “The cup my Father hath given me, shall I +not drink it?” In the ear of the Nazarene he was putting his own +question, “If I bring thee rescue, wilt thou accept it?” He was +saying to himself, “This death may not be averted. The man has been +travelling towards it with full knowledge from the day he began his mission: it +is imposed by a will higher than his; whose but the Lord’s! If he is +consenting, if he goes to it voluntarily, what shall another do?” Nor +less did Ben-Hur see the failure of the scheme he had built upon the fidelity +of the Galileans; their desertion, in fact, left nothing more of it. But how +singular it should happen that morning of all others! A dread seized him. It +was possible his scheming, and labor, and expenditure of treasure might have +been but blasphemous contention with God. When he picked up the reins and said, +“Let us go, brethren,” all before him was uncertainty. The faculty +of resolving quickly, without which one cannot be a hero in the midst of +stirring scenes, was numb within him. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go, brethren; let us to Golgotha.” +</p> + +<p> +They passed through excited crowds of people going south, like themselves. All +the country north of the city seemed aroused and in motion. +</p> + +<p> +Hearing that the procession with the condemned might be met with somewhere near +the great white towers left by Herod, the three friends rode thither, passing +round southeast of Akra. In the valley below the Pool of Hezekiah, passage-way +against the multitude became impossible, and they were compelled to dismount, +and take shelter behind the corner of a house and wait. +</p> + +<p> +The waiting was as if they were on a river bank, watching a flood go by, for +such the people seemed. +</p> + +<p> +There are certain chapters in the First Book of this story which were written +to give the reader an idea of the composition of the Jewish nationality as it +was in the time of Christ. They were also written in anticipation of this hour +and scene; so that he who has read them with attention can now see all Ben-Hur +saw of the going to the crucifixion—a rare and wonderful sight! +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour—an hour—the flood surged by Ben-Hur and his +companions, within arm’s reach, incessant, undiminished. At the end of +that time he could have said, “I have seen all the castes of Jerusalem, +all the sects of Judea, all the tribes of Israel, and all the nationalities of +earth represented by them.” The Libyan Jew went by, and the Jew of Egypt, +and the Jew from the Rhine; in short, Jews from all East countries and all West +countries, and all islands within commercial connection; they went by on foot, +on horseback, on camels, in litters and chariots, and with an infinite variety +of costumes, yet with the same marvellous similitude of features which to-day +particularizes the children of Israel, tried as they have been by climates and +modes of life; they went by speaking all known tongues, for by that means only +were they distinguishable group from group; they went by in haste—eager, +anxious, crowding—all to behold one poor Nazarene die, a felon between +felons. +</p> + +<p> +These were the many, but they were not all. +</p> + +<p> +Borne along with the stream were thousands not Jews—thousands hating and +despising them—Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Syrians, Africans, Egyptians, +Easterns. So that, studying the mass, it seemed the whole world was to be +represented, and, in that sense, present at the crucifixion. +</p> + +<p> +The going was singularly quiet. A hoof-stroke upon a rock, the glide and rattle +of revolving wheels, voices in conversation, and now and then a calling voice, +were all the sounds heard above the rustle of the mighty movement. Yet was +there upon every countenance the look with which men make haste to see some +dreadful sight, some sudden wreck, or ruin, or calamity of war. And by such +signs Ben-Hur judged that these were the strangers in the city come up to the +Passover, who had had no part in the trial of the Nazarene, and might be his +friends. +</p> + +<p> +At length, from the direction of the great towers, Ben-Hur heard, at first +faint in the distance, a shouting of many men. +</p> + +<p> +“Hark! they are coming now,” said one of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +The people in the street halted to hear; but as the cry rang on over their +heads, they looked at each other, and in shuddering silence moved along. +</p> + +<p> +The shouting drew nearer each moment; and the air was already full of it and +trembling, when Ben-Hur saw the servants of Simonides coming with their master +in his chair, and Esther walking by his side; a covered litter was next behind +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace to you, O Simonides—and to you, Esther,” said Ben-Hur, +meeting them. “If you are for Golgotha, stay until the procession passes; +I will then go with you. There is room to turn in by the house here.” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant’s large head rested heavily upon his breast; rousing +himself, he answered, “Speak to Balthasar; his pleasure will be mine. He +is in the litter.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur hastened to draw aside the curtain. The Egyptian was lying within, his +wan face so pinched as to appear like a dead man’s. The proposal was +submitted to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Can we see him?” he inquired, faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“The Nazarene? yes; he must pass within a few feet of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Lord!” the old man cried, fervently. “Once more, once +more! Oh, it is a dreadful day for the world!” +</p> + +<p> +Shortly the whole party were in waiting under shelter of the house. They said +but little, afraid, probably, to trust their thoughts to each other; everything +was uncertain, and nothing so much so as opinions. Balthasar drew himself +feebly from the litter, and stood supported by a servant; Esther and Ben-Hur +kept Simonides company. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the flood poured along, if anything, more densely than before; and the +shouting came nearer, shrill up in the air, hoarse along the earth, and cruel. +At last the procession was up. +</p> + +<p> +“See!” said Ben-Hur, bitterly; “that which cometh now is +Jerusalem.” +</p> + +<p> +The advance was in possession of an army of boys, hooting and screaming, +“The King of the Jews! Room, room for the King of the Jews!” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides watched them as they whirled and danced along, like a cloud of summer +insects, and said, gravely, “When these come to their inheritance, son of +Hur, alas for the city of Solomon!” +</p> + +<p> +A band of legionaries fully armed followed next, marching in sturdy +indifference, the glory of burnished brass about them the while. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the NAZARENE! +</p> + +<p> +He was nearly dead. Every few steps he staggered as if he would fall. A stained +gown badly torn hung from his shoulders over a seamless undertunic. His bare +feet left red splotches upon the stones. An inscription on a board was tied to +his neck. A crown of thorns had been crushed hard down upon his head, making +cruel wounds from which streams of blood, now dry and blackened, had run over +his face and neck. The long hair, tangled in the thorns, was clotted thick. The +skin, where it could be seen, was ghastly white. His hands were tied before +him. Back somewhere in the city he had fallen exhausted under the transverse +beam of his cross, which, as a condemned person, custom required him to bear to +the place of execution; now a countryman carried the burden in his stead. Four +soldiers went with him as a guard against the mob, who sometimes, nevertheless, +broke through, and struck him with sticks, and spit upon him. Yet no sound +escaped him, neither remonstrance nor groan; nor did he look up until he was +nearly in front of the house sheltering Ben-Hur and his friends, all of whom +were moved with quick compassion. Esther clung to her father; and he, strong of +will as he was, trembled. Balthasar fell down speechless. Even Ben-Hur cried +out, “O my God! my God!” Then, as if he divined their feelings or +heard the exclamation, the Nazarene turned his wan face towards the party, and +looked at them each one, so they carried the look in memory through life. They +could see he was thinking of them, not himself, and the dying eyes gave them +the blessing he was not permitted to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are thy legions, son of Hur?” asked Simonides, aroused. +</p> + +<p> +“Hannas can tell thee better than I.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, faithless?” +</p> + +<p> +“All but these two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then all is lost, and this good man must die!” +</p> + +<p> +The face of the merchant knit convulsively as he spoke, and his head sank upon +his breast. He had borne his part in Ben-Hur’s labors well, and he had +been inspired by the same hopes, now blown out never to be rekindled. +</p> + +<p> +Two other men succeeded the Nazarene bearing cross-beams. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are these?” Ben-Hur asked of the Galileans. +</p> + +<p> +“Thieves appointed to die with the Nazarene,” they replied. +</p> + +<p> +Next in the procession stalked a mitred figure clad all in the golden vestments +of the high-priest. Policemen from the Temple curtained him round about; and +after him, in order, strode the sanhedrim, and a long array of priests, the +latter in their plain white garments, overwrapped by abnets of many folds and +gorgeous colors. +</p> + +<p> +“The son-in-law of Hannas,” said Ben-Hur, in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Caiaphas! I have seen him,” Simonides replied, adding, after a +pause during which he thoughtfully watched the haughty pontiff, “And now +am I convinced. With such assurance as proceeds from clear enlightenment of the +spirit—with absolute assurance—now know I that he who first goes +yonder with the inscription about his neck is what the inscription proclaims +him—KING OF THE JEWS. A common man, an impostor, a felon, was never thus +waited upon. For look! Here are the nations—Jerusalem, Israel. Here is +the ephod, here the blue robe with its fringe, and purple pomegranates, and +golden bells, not seen in the street since the day Jaddua went out to meet the +Macedonian—proofs all that this Nazarene is King. Would I could rise and +go after him!” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur listened surprised; and directly, as if himself awakening to his +unusual display of feeling, Simonides said, impatiently, +</p> + +<p> +“Speak to Balthasar, I pray you, and let us begone. The vomit of +Jerusalem is coming.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Esther spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I see some women there, and they are weeping. Who are they?” +</p> + +<p> +Following the pointing of her hand, the party beheld four women in tears; one +of them leaned upon the arm of a man of aspect not unlike the Nazarene’s. +Presently Ben-Hur answered, +</p> + +<p> +“The man is the disciple whom the Nazarene loves the best of all; she who +leans upon his arm is Mary, the Master’s mother; the others are friendly +women of Galilee.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther pursued the mourners with glistening eyes until the multitude received +them out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +It may be the reader will fancy the foregoing snatches of conversation were had +in quiet; but it was not so. The talking was, for the most part, like that +indulged by people at the seaside under the sound of the surf; for to nothing +else can the clamor of this division of the mob be so well likened. +</p> + +<p> +The demonstration was the forerunner of those in which, scarce thirty years +later, under rule of the factions, the Holy City was torn to pieces; it was +quite as great in numbers, as fanatical and bloodthirsty; boiled and raved, and +had in it exactly the same elements—servants, camel-drivers, marketmen, +gate-keepers, gardeners, dealers in fruits and wines, proselytes, and +foreigners not proselytes, watchmen and menials from the Temple, thieves, +robbers, and the myriad not assignable to any class, but who, on such occasions +as this, appeared no one could say whence, hungry and smelling of caves and old +tombs—bareheaded wretches with naked arms and legs, hair and beard in +uncombed mats, and each with one garment the color of clay; beasts with abysmal +mouths, in outcry effective as lions calling each other across desert spaces. +Some of them had swords; a greater number flourished spears and javelins; +though the weapons of the many were staves and knotted clubs, and slings, for +which latter selected stones were stored in scrips, and sometimes in sacks +improvised from the foreskirts of their dirty tunics. Among the mass here and +there appeared persons of high degree—scribes, elders, rabbis, Pharisees +with broad fringing, Sadducees in fine cloaks—serving for the time as +prompters and directors. If a throat tired of one cry, they invented another +for it; if brassy lungs showed signs of collapse, they set them going again; +and yet the clamor, loud and continuous as it was, could have been reduced to a +few syllables—King of the Jews! Room for the King of the +Jews!—Defiler of the Temple!—Blasphemer of God!—Crucify him, +crucify him! And of these cries the last one seemed in greatest favor, because, +doubtless, it was more directly expressive of the wish of the mob, and helped +to better articulate its hatred of the Nazarene. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said Simonides, when Balthasar was ready to +proceed—“come, let us forward.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur did not hear the call. The appearance of the part of the procession +then passing, its brutality and hunger for life, were reminding him of the +Nazarene—his gentleness, and the many charities he had seen him do for +suffering men. Suggestions beget suggestions; so he remembered suddenly his own +great indebtedness to the man; the time he himself was in the hands of a Roman +guard going, as was supposed, to a death as certain and almost as terrible as +this one of the cross; the cooling drink he had at the well by Nazareth, and +the divine expression of the face of him who gave it; the later goodness, the +miracle of Palm-Sunday; and with these recollections, the thought of his +present powerlessness to give back help for help or make return in kind stung +him keenly, and he accused himself. He had not done all he might; he could have +watched with the Galileans, and kept them true and ready; and this—ah! +this was the moment to strike! A blow well given now would not merely disperse +the mob and set the Nazarene free; it would be a trumpet-call to Israel, and +precipitate the long-dreamt-of war for freedom. The opportunity was going; the +minutes were bearing it away; and if lost! God of Abraham! Was there nothing to +be done—nothing? +</p> + +<p> +That instant a party of Galileans caught his eye. He rushed through the press +and overtook them. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me,” he said. “I would have speech with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The men obeyed him, and when they were under shelter of the house, he spoke +again: +</p> + +<p> +“You are of those who took my swords, and agreed with me to strike for +freedom and the King who was coming. You have the swords now, and now is the +time to strike with them. Go, look everywhere, and find our brethren, and tell +them to meet me at the tree of the cross making ready for the Nazarene. Haste +all of you! Nay, stand not so! The Nazarene is the King, and freedom dies with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at him respectfully, but did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Then one of them replied, +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Judah”—by that name they knew him—“son of +Judah, it is you who are deceived, not we or our brethren who have your swords. +The Nazarene is not the King; neither has he the spirit of a king. We were with +him when he came into Jerusalem; we saw him in the Temple; he failed himself, +and us, and Israel; at the Gate Beautiful he turned his back upon God and +refused the throne of David. He is not King, and Galilee is not with him. He +shall die the death. But hear you, son of Judah. We have your swords, and we +are ready now to draw them and strike for freedom; and so is Galilee. Be it for +freedom, O son of Judah, for freedom! and we will meet you at the tree of the +cross.” +</p> + +<p> +The sovereign moment of his life was upon Ben-Hur. Could he have taken the +offer and said the word, history might have been other than it is; but then it +would have been history ordered by men, not God—something that never was, +and never will be. A confusion fell upon him; he knew not how, though +afterwards he attributed it to the Nazarene; for when the Nazarene was risen, +he understood the death was necessary to faith in the resurrection, without +which Christianity would be an empty husk. The confusion, as has been said, +left him without the faculty of decision; he stood helpless—wordless +even. Covering his face with his hand, he shook with the conflict between his +wish, which was what he would have ordered, and the power that was upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come; we are waiting for you,” said Simonides, the fourth time. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he walked mechanically after the chair and the litter. Esther walked +with him. Like Balthasar and his friends, the Wise Men, the day they went to +the meeting in the desert, he was being led along the way. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap81"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +When the party—Balthasar, Simonides, Ben-Hur, Esther, and the two +faithful Galileans—reached the place of crucifixion, Ben-Hur was in +advance leading them. How they had been able to make way through the great +press of excited people, he never knew; no more did he know the road by which +they came or the time it took them to come. He had walked in total +unconsciousness, neither hearing nor seeing anybody or anything, and without a +thought of where he was going, or the ghostliest semblance of a purpose in his +mind. In such condition a little child could have done as much as he to prevent +the awful crime he was about to witness. The intentions of God are always +strange to us; but not more so than the means by which they are wrought out, +and at last made plain to our belief. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur came to a stop; those following him also stopped. As a curtain rises +before an audience, the spell holding him in its sleep-awake rose, and he saw +with a clear understanding. +</p> + +<p> +There was a space upon the top of a low knoll rounded like a skull, and dry, +dusty, and without vegetation, except some scrubby hyssop. The boundary of the +space was a living wall of men, with men behind struggling, some to look over, +others to look through it. An inner wall of Roman soldiery held the dense outer +wall rigidly to its place. A centurion kept eye upon the soldiers. Up to the +very line so vigilantly guarded Ben-Hur had been led; at the line he now stood, +his face to the northwest. The knoll was the old Aramaic Golgotha—in +Latin, Calvaria; anglicized, Calvary; translated, The Skull. +</p> + +<p> +On its slopes, in the low places, on the swells and higher hills, the earth +sparkled with a strange enamelling. Look where he would outside the walled +space, he saw no patch of brown soil, no rock, no green thing; he saw only +thousands of eyes in ruddy faces; off a little way in the perspective only +ruddy faces without eyes; off a little farther only a broad, broad circle, +which the nearer view instructed him was also of faces. And this was the +ensemble of three millions of people; under it three millions of hearts +throbbing with passionate interest in what was taking place upon the knoll; +indifferent as to the thieves, caring only for the Nazarene, and for him only +as he was an object of hate or fear or curiosity—he who loved them all, +and was about to die for them. +</p> + +<p> +In the spectacle of a great assemblage of people there are always the +bewilderment and fascination one feels while looking over a stretch of sea in +agitation, and never had this one been exceeded; yet Ben-Hur gave it but a +passing glance, for that which was going on in the space described would permit +no division of his interest. +</p> + +<p> +Up on the knoll so high as to be above the living wall, and visible over the +heads of an attending company of notables, conspicuous because of his mitre and +vestments and his haughty air, stood the high priest. Up the knoll still +higher, up quite to the round summit, so as to be seen far and near, was the +Nazarene, stooped and suffering, but silent. The wit among the guard had +complemented the crown upon his head by putting a reed in his hand for a +sceptre. Clamors blew upon him like +blasts—laughter—execrations—sometimes both together +indistinguishably. A man—ONLY a man, O reader, would have charged the +blasts with the remainder of his love for the race, and let it go forever. +</p> + +<p> +All the eyes then looking were fixed upon the Nazarene. It may have been pity +with which he was moved; whatever the cause, Ben-Hur was conscious of a change +in his feelings. A conception of something better than the best of this +life—something so much better that it could serve a weak man with +strength to endure agonies of spirit as well as of body; something to make +death welcome—perhaps another life purer than this one—perhaps the +spirit-life which Balthasar held to so fast, began to dawn upon his mind +clearer and clearer, bringing to him a certain sense that, after all, the +mission of the Nazarene was that of guide across the boundary for such as loved +him; across the boundary to where his kingdom was set up and waiting for him. +Then, as something borne through the air out of the almost forgotten, he heard +again, or seemed to hear, the saying of the Nazarene, +</p> + +<p> +“I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.” +</p> + +<p> +And the words repeated themselves over and over, and took form, and the dawn +touched them with its light, and filled them with a new meaning. And as men +repeat a question to grasp and fix the meaning, he asked, gazing at the figure +on the hill fainting under its crown, Who the Resurrection? and who the Life? +</p> + +<p> +“I AM,” +</p> + +<p> +the figure seemed to say—and say it for him; for instantly he was +sensible of a peace such as he had never known—the peace which is the end +of doubt and mystery, and the beginning of faith and love and clear +understanding. +</p> + +<p> +From this dreamy state Ben-Hur was aroused by the sound of hammering. On the +summit of the knoll he observed then what had escaped him before—some +soldiers and workmen preparing the crosses. The holes for planting the trees +were ready, and now the transverse beams were being fitted to their places. +</p> + +<p> +“Bid the men make haste,” said the high-priest to the centurion. +“These”—and he pointed to the Nazarene—“must be +dead by the going-down of the sun, and buried that the land may not be defiled. +Such is the Law.” +</p> + +<p> +With a better mind, a soldier went to the Nazarene and offered him something to +drink, but he refused the cup. Then another went to him and took from his neck +the board with the inscription upon it, which he nailed to the tree of the +cross—and the preparation was complete. +</p> + +<p> +“The crosses are ready,” said the centurion to the pontiff, who +received the report with a wave of the hand and the reply, +</p> + +<p> +“Let the blasphemer go first. The Son of God should be able to save +himself. We will see.” +</p> + +<p> +The people to whom the preparation in its several stages was visible, and who +to this time had assailed the hill with incessant cries of impatience, +permitted a lull which directly became a universal hush. The part of the +infliction most shocking, at least to the thought, was reached—the men +were to be nailed to their crosses. When for that purpose the soldiers laid +their hands upon the Nazarene first, a shudder passed through the great +concourse; the most brutalized shrank with dread. Afterwards there were those +who said the air suddenly chilled and made them shiver. +</p> + +<p> +“How very still it is!” Esther said, as she put her arm about her +father’s neck. +</p> + +<p> +And remembering the torture he himself had suffered, he drew her face down upon +his breast, and sat trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Avoid it, Esther, avoid it!” he said. “I know not but all +who stand and see it—the innocent as well as the guilty—may be +cursed from this hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar sank upon his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur,” said Simonides, with increasing +excitement—“son of Hur, if Jehovah stretch not forth his hand, and +quickly, Israel is lost—and we are lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur answered, calmly, “I have been in a dream, Simonides, and heard +in it why all this should be, and why it should go on. It is the will of the +Nazarene—it is God’s will. Let us do as the Egyptian here—let +us hold our peace and pray.” +</p> + +<p> +As he looked up on the knoll again, the words were wafted to him through the +awful stillness— +</p> + +<p> +“I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed reverently as to a person speaking. +</p> + +<p> +Up on the summit meantime the work went on. The guard took the Nazarene’s +clothes from him; so that he stood before the millions naked. The stripes of +the scourging he had received in the early morning were still bloody upon his +back; yet he was laid pitilessly down, and stretched upon the +cross—first, the arms upon the transverse beam; the spikes were +sharp—a few blows, and they were driven through the tender palms; next, +they drew his knees up until the soles of the feet rested flat upon the tree; +then they placed one foot upon the other, and one spike fixed both of them +fast. The dulled sound of the hammering was heard outside the guarded space; +and such as could not hear, yet saw the hammer as it fell, shivered with fear. +And withal not a groan, or cry, or word of remonstrance from the sufferer: +nothing at which an enemy could laugh; nothing a lover could regret. +</p> + +<p> +“Which way wilt thou have him faced?” asked a soldier, bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“Towards the Temple,” the pontiff replied. “In dying I would +have him see the holy house hath not suffered by him.” +</p> + +<p> +The workmen put their hands to the cross, and carried it, burden and all, to +the place of planting. At a word, they dropped the tree into the hole; and the +body of the Nazarene also dropped heavily, and hung by the bleeding hands. +Still no cry of pain—only the exclamation divinest of all recorded +exclamations, +</p> + +<p> +“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” +</p> + +<p> +The cross, reared now above all other objects, and standing singly out against +the sky, was greeted with a burst of delight; and all who could see and read +the writing upon the board over the Nazarene’s head made haste to +decipher it. Soon as read, the legend was adopted by them and communicated, and +presently the whole mighty concourse was ringing the salutation from side to +side, and repeating it with laughter and groans, +</p> + +<p> +“King of the Jews! Hail, King of the Jews!” +</p> + +<p> +The pontiff, with a clearer idea of the import of the inscription, protested +against it, but in vain; so the titled King, looking from the knoll with dying +eyes, must have had the city of his fathers at rest below him—she who had +so ignominiously cast him out. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was rising rapidly to noon; the hills bared their brown breasts +lovingly to it; the more distant mountains rejoiced in the purple with which it +so regally dressed them. In the city, the temples, palaces, towers, pinnacles, +and all points of beauty and prominence seemed to lift themselves into the +unrivalled brilliance, as if they knew the pride they were giving the many who +from time to time turned to look at them. Suddenly a dimness began to fill the +sky and cover the earth—at first no more than a scarce perceptible fading +of the day; a twilight out of time; an evening gliding in upon the splendors of +noon. But it deepened, and directly drew attention; whereat the noise of the +shouting and laughter fell off, and men, doubting their senses, gazed at each +other curiously: then they looked to the sun again; then at the mountains, +getting farther away; at the sky and the near landscape, sinking in shadow; at +the hill upon which the tragedy was enacting; and from all these they gazed at +each other again, and turned pale, and held their peace. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a mist or passing cloud,” Simonides said soothingly to +Esther, who was alarmed. “It will brighten presently.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur did not think so. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a mist or a cloud,” he said. “The spirits who live +in the air—the prophets and saints—are at work in mercy to +themselves and nature. I say to you, O Simonides, truly as God lives, he who +hangs yonder is the Son of God.” +</p> + +<p> +And leaving Simonides lost in wonder at such a speech from him, he went where +Balthasar was kneeling near by, and laid his hand upon the good man’s +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“O wise Egyptian, hearken! Thou alone wert right—the Nazarene is +indeed the Son of God.” +</p> + +<p> +Balthasar drew him down to him, and replied, feebly, “I saw him a child +in the manger where he was first laid; it is not strange that I knew him sooner +than thou; but oh that I should live to see this day! Would I had died with my +brethren! Happy Melchior! Happy, happy Gaspar!” +</p> + +<p> +“Comfort thee!” said Ben-Hur. “Doubtless they too are +here.” +</p> + +<p> +The dimness went on deepening into obscurity, and that into positive darkness, +but without deterring the bolder spirits upon the knoll. One after the other +the thieves were raised on their crosses, and the crosses planted. The guard +was then withdrawn, and the people set free closed in upon the height, and +surged up it, like a converging wave. A man might take a look, when a new-comer +would push him on, and take his place, to be in turn pushed on—and there +were laughter and ribaldry and revilements, all for the Nazarene. +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! If thou be King of the Jews, save thyself,” a soldier +shouted. +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” said a priest, “if he will come down to us now, we will +believe in him.” +</p> + +<p> +Others wagged their heads wisely, saying, “He would destroy the Temple, +and rebuild it in three days, but cannot save himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Others still: “He called himself the Son of God; let us see if God will +have him.” +</p> + +<p> +What all there is in prejudice no one has ever said. The Nazarene had never +harmed the people; far the greater part of them had never seen him except in +this his hour of calamity; yet—singular contrariety!—they loaded +him with their curses, and gave their sympathy to the thieves. +</p> + +<p> +The supernatural night, dropped thus from the heavens, affected Esther as it +began to affect thousands of others braver and stronger. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go home,” she prayed—twice, three times—saying, +“It is the frown of God, father. What other dreadful things may happen, +who can tell? I am afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides was obstinate. He said little, but was plainly under great +excitement. Observing, about the end of the first hour, that the violence of +the crowding up on the knoll was somewhat abated, at his suggestion the party +advanced to take position nearer the crosses. Ben-Hur gave his arm to +Balthasar; yet the Egyptian made the ascent with difficulty. From their new +stand, the Nazarene was imperfectly visible, appearing to them not more than a +dark suspended figure. They could hear him, however—hear his sighing, +which showed an endurance or exhaustion greater than that of his +fellow-sufferers; for they filled every lull in the noises with their groans +and entreaties. +</p> + +<p> +The second hour after the suspension passed like the first one. To the Nazarene +they were hours of insult, provocation, and slow dying. He spoke but once in +the time. Some women came and knelt at the foot of his cross. Among them he +recognized his mother with the beloved disciple. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” he said, raising his voice, “behold thy son!” +And to the disciple, “Behold thy mother!” +</p> + +<p> +The third hour came, and still the people surged round the hill, held to it by +some strange attraction, with which, in probability, the night in midday had +much to do. They were quieter than in the preceding hour; yet at intervals they +could be heard off in the darkness shouting to each other, multitude calling +unto multitude. It was noticeable, also, that coming now to the Nazarene, they +approached his cross in silence, took the look in silence, and so departed. +This change extended even to the guard, who so shortly before had cast lots for +the clothes of the crucified; they stood with their officers a little apart, +more watchful of the one convict than of the throngs coming and going. If he +but breathed heavily, or tossed his head in a paroxysm of pain, they were +instantly on the alert. Most marvellous of all, however, was the altered +behavior of the high-priest and his following, the wise men who had assisted +him in the trial in the night, and, in the victim’s face, kept place by +him with zealous approval. When the darkness began to fall, they began to lose +their confidence. There were among them many learned in astronomy, and familiar +with the apparitions so terrible in those days to the masses; much of the +knowledge was descended to them from their fathers far back; some of it had +been brought away at the end of the Captivity; and the necessities of the +Temple service kept it all bright. These closed together when the sun commenced +to fade before their eyes, and the mountains and hills to recede; they drew +together in a group around their pontiff, and debated what they saw. “The +moon is at its full,” they said, with truth, “and this cannot be an +eclipse.” Then, as no one could answer the question common with them +all—as no one could account for the darkness, or for its occurrence at +that particular time, in their secret hearts they associated it with the +Nazarene, and yielded to an alarm which the long continuance of the phenomenon +steadily increased. In their place behind the soldiers, they noted every word +and motion of the Nazarene, and hung with fear upon his sighs, and talked in +whispers. The man might be the Messiah, and then— But they would wait and +see! +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Ben-Hur was not once visited by the old spirit. The perfect +peace abode with him. He prayed simply that the end might be hastened. He knew +the condition of Simonides’ mind—that he was hesitating on the +verge of belief. He could see the massive face weighed down by solemn +reflection. He noticed him casting inquiring glances at the sun, as seeking the +cause of the darkness. Nor did he fail to notice the solicitude with which +Esther clung to him, smothering her fears to accommodate his wishes. +</p> + +<p> +“Be not afraid,” he heard him say to her; “but stay and watch +with me. Thou mayst live twice the span of my life, and see nothing of human +interest equal to this; and there may be revelations more. Let us stay to the +close.” +</p> + +<p> +When the third hour was about half gone, some men of the rudest +class—wretches from the tombs about the city—came and stopped in +front of the centre cross. +</p> + +<p> +“This is he, the new King of the Jews,” said one of them. +</p> + +<p> +The others cried, with laughter, “Hail, all hail, King of the +Jews!” +</p> + +<p> +Receiving no reply, they went closer. +</p> + +<p> +“If thou be King of the Jews, or Son of God, come down,” they said, +loudly. +</p> + +<p> +At this, one of the thieves quit groaning, and called to the Nazarene, +“Yes, if thou be Christ, save thyself and us.” +</p> + +<p> +The people laughed and applauded; then, while they were listening for a reply, +the other felon was heard to say to the first one, “Dost thou not fear +God? We receive the due rewards of our deeds; but this man hath done nothing +amiss.” +</p> + +<p> +The bystanders were astonished; in the midst of the hush which ensued, the +second felon spoke again, but this time to the Nazarene: +</p> + +<p> +“Lord,” he said, “remember me when thou comest into thy +kingdom.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides gave a great start. “When thou comest into thy kingdom!” +It was the very point of doubt in his mind; the point he had so often debated +with Balthasar. +</p> + +<p> +“Didst thou hear?” said Ben-Hur to him. “The kingdom cannot +be of this world. Yon witness saith the King is but going to his kingdom; and, +in effect, I heard the same in my dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” said Simonides, more imperiously than ever before in speech +to Ben-Hur. “Hush, I pray thee! If the Nazarene should +answer—” +</p> + +<p> +And as he spoke the Nazarene did answer, in a clear voice, full of confidence: +</p> + +<p> +“Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides waited to hear if that were all; then he folded his hands and said, +“No more, no more, Lord! The darkness is gone; I see with other +eyes—even as Balthasar, I see with eyes of perfect faith.” +</p> + +<p> +The faithful servant had at last his fitting reward. His broken body might +never be restored; nor was there riddance of the recollection of his +sufferings, or recall of the years embittered by them; but suddenly a new life +was shown him, with assurance that it was for him—a new life lying just +beyond this one—and its name was Paradise. There he would find the +Kingdom of which he had been dreaming, and the King. A perfect peace fell upon +him. +</p> + +<p> +Over the way, in front of the cross, however, there were surprise and +consternation. The cunning casuists there put the assumption underlying the +question and the admission underlying the answer together. For saying through +the land that he was the Messiah, they had brought the Nazarene to the cross; +and, lo! on the cross, more confidently than ever, he had not only reasserted +himself, but promised enjoyment of his Paradise to a malefactor. They trembled +at what they were doing. The pontiff, with all his pride, was afraid. Where got +the man his confidence except from Truth? And what should the Truth be but God? +A very little now would put them all to flight. +</p> + +<p> +The breathing of the Nazarene grew harder, his sighs became great gasps. Only +three hours upon the cross, and he was dying! +</p> + +<p> +The intelligence was carried from man to man, until every one knew it; and then +everything hushed; the breeze faltered and died; a stifling vapor loaded the +air; heat was superadded to darkness; nor might any one unknowing the fact have +thought that off the hill, out under the overhanging pall, there were three +millions of people waiting awe-struck what should happen next—they were +so still! +</p> + +<p> +Then there went out through the gloom, over the heads of such as were on the +hill within hearing of the dying man, a cry of despair, if not reproach: +</p> + +<p> +“My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken me?” +</p> + +<p> +The voice startled all who heard it. One it touched uncontrollably. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers in coming had brought with them a vessel of wine and water, and +set it down a little way from Ben-Hur. With a sponge dipped into the liquor, +and put on the end of a stick, they could moisten the tongue of a sufferer at +their pleasure. Ben-Hur thought of the draught he had had at the well near +Nazareth; an impulse seized him; catching up the sponge, he dipped it into the +vessel, and started for the cross. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him be!” the people in the way shouted, angrily. “Let +him be!” +</p> + +<p> +Without minding them, he ran on, and put the sponge to the Nazarene’s +lips. +</p> + +<p> +Too late, too late! +</p> + +<p> +The face then plainly seen by Ben-Hur, bruised and black with blood and dust as +it was, lighted nevertheless with a sudden glow; the eyes opened wide, and +fixed upon some one visible to them alone in the far heavens; and there were +content and relief, even triumph, in the shout the victim gave. +</p> + +<p> +“It is finished! It is finished!” +</p> + +<p> +So a hero, dying in the doing a great deed, celebrates his success with a last +cheer. +</p> + +<p> +The light in the eyes went out; slowly the crowned head sank upon the laboring +breast. Ben-Hur thought the struggle over; but the fainting soul recollected +itself, so that he and those around him caught the other and last words, spoken +in a low voice, as if to one listening close by: +</p> + +<p> +“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” +</p> + +<p> +A tremor shook the tortured body; there was a scream of fiercest anguish, and +the mission and the earthly life were over at once. The heart, with all its +love, was broken; for of that, O reader, the man died! +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur went back to his friends, saying, simply, “It is over; he is +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +In a space incredibly short the multitude was informed of the circumstance. No +one repeated it aloud; there was a murmur which spread from the knoll in every +direction; a murmur that was little more than a whispering, “He is dead! +he is dead!” and that was all. The people had their wish; the Nazarene +was dead; yet they stared at each other aghast. His blood was upon them! And +while they stood staring at each other, the ground commenced to shake; each man +took hold of his neighbor to support himself; in a twinkling the darkness +disappeared, and the sun came out; and everybody, as with the same glance, +beheld the crosses upon the hill all reeling drunken-like in the earthquake. +They beheld all three of them; but the one in the centre was arbitrary; it +alone would be seen; and for that it seemed to extend itself upwards, and lift +its burden, and swing it to and fro higher and higher in the blue of the sky. +And every man among them who had jeered at the Nazarene; every one who had +struck him; every one who had voted to crucify him; every one who had marched +in the procession from the city; every one who had in his heart wished him +dead, and they were as ten to one, felt that he was in some way individually +singled out from the many, and that if he would live he must get away quickly +as possible from that menace in the sky. They started to run; they ran with all +their might; on horseback, and camels, and in chariots they ran, as well as on +foot; but then as if it were mad at them for what they had done, and had taken +up the cause of the unoffending and friendless dead, the earthquake pursued +them, and tossed them about, and flung them down, and terrified them yet more +by the horrible noise of great rocks grinding and rending beneath them. They +beat their breasts and shrieked with fear. His blood was upon them! The +home-bred and the foreign, priest and layman, beggar, Sadducee, Pharisee, were +overtaken in the race, and tumbled about indiscriminately. If they called on +the Lord, the outraged earth answered for him in fury, and dealt them all +alike. It did not even know wherein the high-priest was better than his guilty +brethren; overtaking him, it tripped him up also, and smirched the fringing of +his robe, and filled the golden bells with sand, and his mouth with dust. He +and his people were alike in the one thing at least—the blood of the +Nazarene was upon them all! +</p> + +<p> +When the sunlight broke upon the crucifixion, the mother of the Nazarene, the +disciple, and the faithful women of Galilee, the centurion and his soldiers, +and Ben-Hur and his party, were all who remained upon the hill. These had not +time to observe the flight of the multitude; they were too loudly called upon +to take care of themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“Seat thyself here,” said Ben-Hur to Esther, making a place for her +at her father’s feet. “Now cover thine eyes and look not up; but +put thy trust in God, and the spirit of yon just man so foully slain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Simonides, reverently, “let us henceforth speak +of him as the Christ.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so,” said Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a wave of the earthquake struck the hill. The shrieks of the thieves +upon the reeling crosses were terrible to hear. Though giddy with the movements +of the ground, Ben-Hur had time to look at Balthasar, and beheld him prostrate +and still. He ran to him and called—there was no reply. The good man was +dead! Then Ben-Hur remembered to have heard a cry in answer, as it were, to the +scream of the Nazarene in his last moment; but he had not looked to see from +whom it had proceeded; and ever after he believed the spirit of the Egyptian +accompanied that of his Master over the boundary into the kingdom of Paradise. +The idea rested not only upon the cry heard, but upon the exceeding fitness of +the distinction. If faith were worthy reward in the person of Gaspar, and love +in that of Melchior, surely he should have some special meed who through a long +life and so excellently illustrated the three virtues in +combination—Faith, Love, and Good Works. +</p> + +<p> +The servants of Balthasar had deserted their master; but when all was over, the +two Galileans bore the old man in his litter back to the city. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sorrowful procession that entered the south gate of the palace of the +Hurs about the set of sun that memorable day. About the same hour the body of +the Christ was taken down from the cross. +</p> + +<p> +The remains of Balthasar were carried to the guest-chamber. All the servants +hastened weeping to see him; for he had the love of every living thing with +which he had in anywise to do; but when they beheld his face, and the smile +upon it, they dried their tears, saying, “It is well. He is happier this +evening than when he went out in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur would not trust a servant to inform Iras what had befallen her father. +He went himself to see her and bring her to the body. He imagined her grief; +she would now be alone in the world; it was a time to forgive and pity her. He +remembered he had not asked why she was not of the party in the morning, or +where she was; he remembered he had not thought of her; and, from shame, he was +ready to make any amends, the more so as he was about to plunge her into such +acute grief. +</p> + +<p> +He shook the curtains of her door; and though he heard the ringing of the +little bells echoing within, he had no response; he called her name, and again +he called—still no answer. He drew the curtain aside and went into the +room; she was not there. He ascended hastily to the roof in search of her; nor +was she there. He questioned the servants; none of them had seen her during the +day. After a long quest everywhere through the house, Ben-Hur returned to the +guest-chamber, and took the place by the dead which should have been hers; and +he bethought him there how merciful the Christ had been to his aged servant. At +the gate of the kingdom of Paradise happily the afflictions of this life, even +its desertions, are left behind and forgotten by those who go in and rest. +</p> + +<p> +When the gloom of the burial was nigh gone, on the ninth day after the healing, +the law being fulfilled, Ben-Hur brought his mother and Tirzah home; and from +that day, in that house the most sacred names possible of utterance by men were +always coupled worshipfully together, +</p> + +<p> +GOD THE FATHER AND CHRIST THE SON. +</p> + +<p> +———— +</p> + +<p> +About five years after the crucifixion, Esther, the wife of Ben-Hur, sat in her +room in the beautiful villa by Misenum. It was noon, with a warm Italian sun +making summer for the roses and vines outside. Everything in the apartment was +Roman, except that Esther wore the garments of a Jewish matron. Tirzah and two +children at play upon a lion skin on the floor were her companions; and one had +only to observe how carefully she watched them to know that the little ones +were hers. +</p> + +<p> +Time had treated her generously. She was more than ever beautiful, and in +becoming mistress of the villa, she had realized one of her cherished dreams. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this simple, home-like scene, a servant appeared in the +doorway, and spoke to her. +</p> + +<p> +“A woman in the atrium to speak with the mistress.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let her come. I will receive her here.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the stranger entered. At sight of her the Jewess arose, and was about +to speak; then she hesitated, changed color, and finally drew back, saying, +“I have known you, good woman. You are—” +</p> + +<p> +“I was Iras, the daughter of Balthasar.” +</p> + +<p> +Esther conquered her surprise, and bade the servant bring the Egyptian a seat. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Iras, coldly. “I will retire directly.” +</p> + +<p> +The two gazed at each other. We know what Esther presented—a beautiful +woman, a happy mother, a contented wife. On the other side, it was very plain +that fortune had not dealt so gently with her former rival. The tall figure +remained with some of its grace; but an evil life had tainted the whole person. +The face was coarse; the large eyes were red and pursed beneath the lower lids; +there was no color in her cheeks. The lips were cynical and hard, and general +neglect was leading rapidly to premature old age. Her attire was ill chosen and +draggled. The mud of the road clung to her sandals. Iras broke the painful +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“These are thy children?” +</p> + +<p> +Esther looked at them, and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Will you not speak to them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would scare them,” Iras replied. Then she drew closer to Esther, +and seeing her shrink, said, “Be not afraid. Give thy husband a message +for me. Tell him his enemy is dead, and that for the much misery he brought me +I slew him.” +</p> + +<p> +“His enemy!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Messala. Further, tell thy husband that for the harm I sought to do +him I have been punished until even he would pity me.” +</p> + +<p> +Tears arose in Esther’s eyes, and she was about to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” said Iras, “I do not want pity or tears. Tell him, +finally, I have found that to be a Roman is to be a brute. Farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +She moved to go. Esther followed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, and see my husband. He has no feeling against you. He sought for +you everywhere. He will be your friend. I will be your friend. We are +Christians.” +</p> + +<p> +The other was firm. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I am what I am of choice. It will be over shortly.” +</p> + +<p> +“But”—Esther hesitated—“have we nothing you would +wish; nothing to—to—” +</p> + +<p> +The countenance of the Egyptian softened; something like a smile played about +her lips. She looked at the children upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“There is something,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Esther followed her eyes, and with quick perception answered, “It is +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Iras went to them, and knelt on the lion’s skin, and kissed them both. +Rising slowly, she looked at them; then passed to the door and out of it +without a parting word. She walked rapidly, and was gone before Esther could +decide what to do. +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur, when he was told of the visit, knew certainly what he had long +surmised—that on the day of the crucifixion Iras had deserted her father +for Messala. Nevertheless, he set out immediately and hunted for her vainly; +they never saw her more, or heard of her. The blue bay, with all its laughing +under the sun, has yet its dark secrets. Had it a tongue, it might tell us of +the Egyptian. +</p> + +<p> +Simonides lived to be a very old man. In the tenth year of Nero’s reign, +he gave up the business so long centred in the warehouse at Antioch. To the +last he kept a clear head and a good heart, and was successful. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, in the year named, he sat in his arm-chair on the terrace of the +warehouse. Ben-Hur and Esther, and their three children, were with him. The +last of the ships swung at mooring in the current of the river; all the rest +had been sold. In the long interval between this and the day of the crucifixion +but one sorrow had befallen them: that was when the mother of Ben-Hur died; and +then and now their grief would have been greater but for their Christian faith. +</p> + +<p> +The ship spoken of had arrived only the day before, bringing intelligence of +the persecution of Christians begun by Nero in Rome, and the party on the +terrace were talking of the news when Malluch, who was still in their service, +approached and delivered a package to Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Who brings this?” the latter asked, after reading. +</p> + +<p> +“An Arab.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“He left immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said Ben-Hur to Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +He read then the following letter: +</p> + +<p> +“I, Ilderim, the son of Ilderim the Generous, and sheik of the tribe of +Ilderim, to Judah, son of Hur. +</p> + +<p> +“Know, O friend of my father’s, how my father loved you. Read what +is herewith sent, and you will know. His will is my will; therefore what he +gave is thine. +</p> + +<p> +“All the Parthians took from him in the great battle in which they slew +him I have retaken—this writing, with other things, and vengeance, and +all the brood of that Mira who in his time was mother of so many stars. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace be to you and all yours. +</p> + +<p> +“This voice out of the desert is the voice of +</p> + +<p> +“Ilderim, Shiek.” +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur next unrolled a scrap of papyrus yellow as a withered mulberry leaf. It +required the daintiest handling. Proceeding, he read: +</p> + +<p> +“Ilderim, surnamed the Generous, sheik of the tribe of Ilderim, to the +son who succeeds me. +</p> + +<p> +“All I have, O son, shall be thine in the day of thy succession, except +that property by Antioch known as the Orchard of Palms; and it shall be to the +son of Hur who brought us such glory in the Circus—to him and his +forever. +</p> + +<p> +“Dishonor not thy father. ILDERIM THE GENEROUS, Sheik.” +</p> + +<p> +</p> + +<p> +“What say you?” asked Ben-Hur, of Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +Esther took the papers pleased, and read them to herself. Simonides remained +silent. His eyes were upon the ship; but he was thinking. At length he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Son of Hur,” he said, gravely, “the Lord has been good to +you in these later years. You have much to be thankful for. Is it not time to +decide finally the meaning of the gift of the great fortune now all in your +hand, and growing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I decided that long ago. The fortune was meant for the service of the +Giver; not a part, Simonides, but all of it. The question with me has been, How +can I make it most useful in his cause? And of that tell me, I pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonides answered, +</p> + +<p> +“The great sums you have given to the Church here in Antioch, I am +witness to. Now, instantly almost with this gift of the generous sheik’s, +comes the news of the persecution of the brethren in Rome. It is the opening of +a new field. The light must not go out in the capital.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me how I can keep it alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you. The Romans, even this Nero, hold two things +sacred—I know of no others they so hold—they are the ashes of the +dead and all places of burial. If you cannot build temples for the worship of +the Lord above ground, then build them below the ground; and to keep them from +profanation, carry to them the bodies of all who die in the faith.” +</p> + +<p> +Ben-Hur arose excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a great idea,” he said. “I will not wait to begin it. +Time forbids waiting. The ship that brought the news of the suffering of our +brethren shall take me to Rome. I will sail to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned to Malluch. +</p> + +<p> +“Get the ship ready, Malluch, and be thou ready to go with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is well,” said Simonides. +</p> + +<p> +“And thou, Esther, what sayest thou?” asked Ben-Hur. +</p> + +<p> +Esther came to his side, and put her hand on his arm, and answered, +</p> + +<p> +“So wilt thou best serve the Christ. O my husband, let me not hinder, but +go with thee and help.” +</p> + +<hr> + +<p> +If any of my readers, visiting Rome, will make the short journey to the +Catacomb of San Calixto, which is more ancient than that of San Sebastiano, he +will see what became of the fortune of Ben-Hur, and give him thanks. Out of +that vast tomb Christianity issued to supersede the Cæsars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEN-HUR: A TALE OF THE CHRIST ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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