{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56750/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56750","id":"gutenberg_56750","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56750","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Romance","Wandering Jew -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTarry thou till I come!\u201d\n\n [_see page 3._\n\nCOPYRIGHT 1901 BY FUNK & WAGNALLS CO.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n THULSTRUP ILLUSTRATED EDITION\n\n TARRY THOU\n TILL I COME\n OR\n SALATHIEL, THE WANDERING JEW\n\n _By_\n GEORGE CROLY\n\n _Introductory Letter by_\n Gen. LEWIS WALLACE\n\n _With Twenty Full-Page Drawings\n by_\n T. DE THULSTRUP\n\n NEW YORK & LONDON\n FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY\n \u00b7M\u00b7C\u00b7M\u00b7I\u00b7\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1901\n By FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY\n\n Published May, 1901\n [Registered at Stationers\u2019 Hall, London]\n _Printed in the United States of America_\n\n\n\n\nPUBLISHERS\u2019 NOTE\n\n\nThis remarkable historical romance is closely associated by the author in\nhis brief Preface with the early Second Coming of Christ, a belief that\nis held to-day by a rapidly increasing number of people in all parts of\nChristendom.\n\nThe story was first published in 1827, and was issued at different times\nunder different titles, as \u201cSalathiel, a Story of the Past, the Present,\nand the Future\u201d; and \u201cSalathiel, the Immortal, or the Wandering Jew.\u201d\nIt had wide popularity for a generation or more, the leading critical\njournals in England and America giving it great praise.\n\nIn the present revival of the story, many typographical, and some other\nerrors, that crept into the various editions, have been carefully\ncorrected, chapter and marginal headings have been added, and the dialogs\nhave been generally broken up into paragraphs in harmony with the fashion\nof to-day, and the whole book has been carefully annotated.\n\nWe are glad in the belief that we have carried out successfully General\nLewis Wallace\u2019s wish, that the story be worthily illustrated. We were\nfortunate in securing a masterful artist who shared the great enthusiasm\nof the author of \u201cBen Hur\u201d for this story of Croly\u2019s, and in his drawings\nMr. de Thulstrup has spared neither time nor labor, spending many months,\nboth here and in Europe, in the study of the details necessary to perfect\nthe pictures. We feel assured that General Wallace will now wish to\nrecast the closing sentence of his Introductory Letter.\n\nThe words that doomed Salathiel to immortality on earth, \u201cTarry Thou Till\nI Come,\u201d so fit the story that we have ventured to make them the chief\ntitle, and have so combined the new with the old that no one will be\nmisled. The colored frontispiece by Mr. de Thulstrup happily illustrates\nthe new title.\n\nIn the Appendix will be found a series of letters written for this\npublication by thirty or more representative Jewish scholars, on \u201c_Jesus\nof Nazareth from the Present Jewish Point of View_.\u201d The Appendix\ncontains other matter suggested by the legend of \u201cThe Wandering Jew,\u201d\nprepared by D. S. Gregory, LL.D., and by Arthur T. Pierson, D.D. The\ngeneral INTRODUCTION is self-explanatory.\n\nIt is believed that no book now before the public can be made nearly so\nhelpful as this one in interesting the minds of readers, young and old,\nin the events that closely followed in Palestine the Crucifixion, and\nmarked the conflict between early Judaism and Christianity, and ended in\nthe final destruction of Jerusalem.\n\nThe reader will now and then be reminded of some of the more striking\npassages in two or three of the popular religious novels published in the\npast decade. But, as it is not given even to great geniuses to remember\n_forward_, our author will scarcely be exposed to the accusation of\nhaving borrowed from these later writers.\n\nAll existing rights in this book, held in this country or England, have\nbeen purchased by us.\n\n FUNK AND WAGNALLS COMPANY.\n\nNEW YORK and LONDON.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY LETTER\n\n_From General Lewis Wallace_\n\n(Author of \u201cBen Hur\u201d)\n\n\n CRAWFORDSVILLE, IND., _September 1, 1900_.\n\nGENTLEMEN: I have learned that you have in mind the issuance of a new\nedition of Croly\u2019s story of \u201cThe Wandering Jew.\u201d Perhaps you will lend a\nwilling ear to a suggestion or two, so much is the book in my love.\n\nIn my judgment, the six greatest English novels are \u201cIvanhoe,\u201d \u201cThe Last\nof the Barons,\u201d \u201cThe Tale of Two Cities,\u201d \u201cJane Eyre,\u201d \u201cHypatia,\u201d and\nthis romance of Croly\u2019s. If Shakespeare had never been born; if Milton,\nByron, and Tennyson were singers to be, and Bacon, Darwin, and Ruskin\nunknown; if there had been no British dramatists, no British historians,\nno works in British libraries significant of British science and\nphilosophy, no alcoves glutted with bookish remains of British moralists\nand preachers, still the six works named would of themselves suffice to\nconstitute a British literature.\n\nThis is bold, I know: bold in assertion, and even bolder in the lift\nof Croly\u2019s story from the ground to a place in the upper sky. Can I\njustify the classification? Certainly, if only your patience and my time\npermitted.\n\nHere, to begin, is a broad adverse generality,\u2014the very worst of possible\narguments against the book is, that of the five great classics with which\nI have thrust it into association, it is the least known to-day by the\ngeneral public. Yet the admission is not in the least decisive of merits;\nin inquisitorial phrase it serves merely to put objections to question.\n\nIt is a religious novel, says one, sneering. That used to be urged\nagainst the \u201cPilgrim\u2019s Progress\u201d; yet the Pilgrim goes marching on, and\nI fancy his progress will stop only when the world stops. And how is\nit that of late years, at least, several novels religious in tone and\nspirit have been more than well received? Indeed, is it not a fact that\nsome of them have attained extraordinary popularity, thus gainsaying the\nnarrow Puritanism which less than a century ago put the novel under ban,\nregardless of kind and excellence?\n\nAnother objection. The style is somewhat too exalted; and then the critic\nmakes haste to stretch the alleged defect to the author\u2019s want of art.\nNow, I would not like to be dogmatic or unkind, but such points certainly\ndisclose a lamentable comprehension. Why, coiled up in that objection\nlie the very excellencies of the book. How, pray, could exaltation be\navoided? Who does not know that in description the sublime always imposes\nits own laws? Imagine, if you can, the commonplace used by a narrator\nstruggling to convey an idea of the tremendous in a hurricane at sea.\n\nAnd as to a want of art, I would like to say mildly that the absence\nof art in the book is its main charm. Any, the slightest show of\npremeditation or design would have been gross treason to nature. Does a\nwoman, struck to the heart, utter her grief by measure as a singer sings\nor a poet writes? And how is it with a man in rage or pain? Yet, verily,\nthere was never a woman or a man in speech so impelled by a sting of soul\nas Salathiel.\n\nPassing, now, the matter of criticism and mere negative dealing, I choose\nto be affirmative. Salathiel, the subject of the book, was a Jew, and in\nrank a Prince of the Tribe of Naphtali. In the persecution of Christ, his\narrest, his trial, his scourging, Salathiel was the leading insatiate;\nand such, doubtless, he would have continued down to the last minute of\nthe third hour of the Crucifixion but that the victim stopped him. At\nwhat stage of the awful crime the stoppage took place, the author leaves\nto inference; but how the incident befell and its almost inconceivable\neffect upon Salathiel, no man should again try to describe. This is from\nCroly, his words:\n\n \u201cBut in the moment of exultation I was stricken. He who\n had refused an hour of life to the victim was, in terrible\n retribution, condemned to know the misery of life interminable.\n I heard through all the voices of Jerusalem\u2014I should have heard\n through all the thunders of heaven\u2014the calm, low voice, \u2018Tarry\n thou till I come!\u2019\u201d\n\nSuch the retribution; now the effect.\n\n \u201cI felt my fate at once! I sprang away through the shouting\n hosts as if the avenging angel waved his sword above my head.\n Wild songs, furious execrations, the uproar of myriads stirred\n to the heights of passion, filled the air; still, through all,\n I heard the pursuing sentence, \u2018Tarry thou till I come,\u2019 and\n felt it to be the sentence of incurable agony! I was never to\n know the shelter of the grave!\u201d\n\nAnd then follow five paragraphs, each beginning with the same words\nuttered, as I imagine, in the tone of a shriek of anguish, \u201cImmortality\non earth!\u201d And of those paragraphs, regarded as a dissection of the moral\npart of a man by virtue of which he is susceptible of infinite happiness\nor infinite misery, I say that for completeness and eloquence they are\nwithout parallel in the language. Nor is that all. In those paragraphs,\none reading will find the definition of a punishment which in subtlety,\nin torture, and in duration is as far out of range of human origin as in\nexecution it is out of range of human power. Yet more. Instantly with\nthe comprehension of the punishment defined, the immeasurable difference\nbetween the agonies of death on a cross, though of days in duration, and\nthe agonies of immortal life under curse on earth, becomes discernible.\nIn that difference there is a divine thought in anger, an avenging\nimpulse. The superiority in misery of the punishment of Salathiel, its\nterm of sentence, its depth of suffering, its superhuman passion of\nvengeance, seem impossible to the all-patient Christ; and while we are\nconsidering its possibility, the book carries us to the question, Is\nthere a wandering Jew?\n\nI think so. Let smile now who will; yet, as I see, a whole race is the\nmultiple of the man, just as the man is the incarnation of the race.\nIsrael, the plural, merges in Salathiel, the singular, insomuch that to\nthink of the one is to think of the other. In this instance, also, the\nsimilitudes become creative, and life, nature, history, and doom, sinking\nthe race, make room for the wandering Jew.\n\nNot only do I think there is a wandering Jew, but I know him intimately.\nTo Croly he was a young man, a warrior; to me, he came an old man, a\nphilosopher. Croly beheld him irate, passionate, vengeful. I saw him\nwiser by many hundreds of years, and repentant, and trying vainly to\nbring about a brotherhood of man by preaching the unity of God. With\nCroly, he was the Prince of Naphtali; with me, he was the Prince of India.\n\nReturning now\u2014with such a subject, dealt with so magnificently, I can not\nsee how the great reading public in America can be indifferent to a new\nedition of Croly\u2019s romance. Only take us into your faith, gentlemen, and\nsee to it that the issue be worthy the theme. Be even luxurious with it;\ngive it fine paper, wide margins, large type, and choice binding; and,\nif Gustave Dor\u00e9 were living, I would further beg you to have the edition\nillustrated by him.\n\n Very respectfully,\n\n [Illustration: Lewis Wallace]\n\n_To Funk & Wagnalls Company._\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\n\u201cTarry thou till I come.\u201d These words smote Salathiel like successive\nthunder-claps, tho uttered without the noise of speech. At once a doom\nand a prophecy\u2014this Jesus, now climbing Calvary to His death, would come\nagain, and the Jew could not perish from the earth until His coming!\n\nOur author, Dr. Croly, has based his story on this old, pathetic legend.\nHe believed that \u201cThe Wandering Jew\u201d\u2014typical of the Jewish race\u2014is about\nto end his wearisome journeyings, as Christ is soon to come.[A]\n\nThat the Christ is coming, and that this coming is near at hand, is\nbelieved to-day by millions.\n\nHe is coming\u2014but how?\n\nHear Him:\n\n The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven which a woman hid in\n three measures of meal, till the whole was leavened\u2014the life\n and nature of the leaven reappearing in the quickened mass.\n\n Again: The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard-seed,\n the least of all seeds, so little that it is likely to be lost\n sight of in the count of forces; but it has life in it, and\n the power to grow and multiply, and it spreads its branches\n in every direction, each laden with seeds\u2014the life and nature\n of the first grain reappearing in every one of the myriads of\n grains.\n\n And again: The kingdom of heaven is as if a man should cast\n seed into the ground; and it should spring and grow up, he\n knoweth not how; first the blade, then the ear, after that the\n full corn in the ear. It is all natural: the earth does its\n work; the sun, the air, the water do their work, and the life\n and nature of the seed grow and multiply, reappearing in each\n grain in exact accordance with the nature of the seed. It is\n natural, but marvelous: the man \u201cknoweth not how\u201d it is done;\n but no one says, therefore, that that growth is supernatural,\n miraculous.\n\nWhence the germ of life in the seed? Whence the germ of life in the\nkingdom of heaven? Who can tell? The wind bloweth where it listeth. Thou\nseest the effect of it, but canst not tell whence it cometh, nor whither\nit goeth. So is life wherever you find it, whether at the birth of a\nyeast-plant, of grains of mustard-seed and of corn, or of the natural\nand spiritual man. But the leaven, and the grains of mustard-seed and\nof corn, and the kingdoms of the natural and the spiritual man grow and\nreach perfection by natural processes\u2014that is, in harmony with cause and\neffect\u2014each process subject to critical and scientific analysis, if that\nanalysis goes deep enough, and wide enough, and far enough.\n\nLife reappears in new life. The leaven and the seed and the Christ-life\nall reincarnate themselves in more leaven, more seed, more of the Christ\nlife. \u201cIn that day,\u201d said Jesus, \u201cye shall know that I am _in_ you.\u201d\nThose who study the New Testament can not but be impressed with how\noften, and under how many forms, is there uttered the thought, _Christ\nformed in you_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis is _the_ coming of Christ. Not that it is the _only_ coming; many\nmillions of earnest men and women believe that in the near future He will\ncome in a way palpable to our physical senses as He came nineteen hundred\nyears ago. \u201cYe men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This\nsame Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like\nmanner as ye have seen Him go into heaven\u201d (Acts i. 11).\n\nYet experiences on the physical plane are of little comparative\nvalue\u2014_comparative_. Jesus bade the doubting Thomas to reach forth his\nhand and touch Him, that he might have tangible evidence: Now, Thomas,\nyou believe because you have seen and felt; but blessed is he who\nbelieves on the higher plane of spiritual knowing. It is \u201can evil and\nadulterous generation\u201d that seeketh after proofs of spiritual things\non the sensuous level. Men saw and touched Jesus in Palestine who were\nmillions of miles from Him. Were Christ to appear in visible form, it\nmight easily be of no value whatever to come into physical contact with\nHim, to meet Him on Broadway or on the Strand; but who can measure the\nvalue of having Christ recreated in himself, as the leaven is recreated\nin the meal, and as a seed is recreated in new seed, so that men, when\nthey see that man, and talk to him, and deal with him, shall feel that\nthey have been with Christ?\n\nOne day I saw in a neighbor\u2019s flower-bed a little plant, that, as it\npushed its way above the ground, had brought with it the mother seed from\nwhich it grew. That was a literal reappearance of the planted seed; but\nit was not _the_ reappearance, not _the_ resurrection of the seed, for\nwhich a seed grows.\n\nChrist came the first time into men\u2019s vision by coming on the plane of\ntheir senses; He comes the second time into men\u2019s vision by lifting them\nup to His plane of spiritual comprehension.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis coming of Christ involves a new birth, a new creation, a new\nkingdom. It means a new step in the evolution of man. As man has stepped\nfrom the mineral kingdom to the vegetable kingdom, and from the vegetable\nkingdom to the animal kingdom, and from the animal kingdom to the kingdom\nof the natural man,[B] so now he steps from the kingdom of the natural\nman to the kingdom of the spiritual man, every portion of this step a\nnatural process subject to critical scientific analysis, if that analysis\ngoes deep enough, wide enough, far enough. It is the continuance of\nevolution without a break, without a leap (\u201cNature never makes leaps,\u201d\nsays Leibnitz; the leaps are only seeming), lifting the race by a new\nbirth through Christ the type-life up to the plane of spiritual being and\nknowing.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIs the visible second coming of Jesus fancy or truth? Our author believed\nit true, and increasing multitudes to-day believe it true. Among these\nare many of the foremost Christian teachers of this generation, as that\ntrio of great preachers recently dead, Charles H. Spurgeon, A. J. Gordon,\nand Dwight L. Moody; Newman Hall, Theodore Monod, Arthur T. Pierson, F.\nB. Meyer, J. H. Brookes, C. Cuthbert Hall. There is evidently near at\nhand an extraordinary revival of this belief.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIn the republication of this remarkable story about the Jew who is \u201cto\nwander on earth until Christ comes again,\u201d it has seemed to me that it\nwould not be inappropriate to give, by way of Introduction, and in the\nAppendix, several lines of thought bearing upon the coming of Christ.\n\n\nTHE ESSENTIAL COMING OF CHRIST\n\nI\n\nThis coming is in harmony with the laws of sequence and continuity.\n\nIn each preceding step in the evolution of man the unfolding of the\n_physical basis_ of life was from below, but the _life_ itself was from\nabove, never from below. Scientists are now practically unanimous in\nsaying that, \u201cThere is not a scintilla of evidence that the inorganic\nor mineral world has ever evolved a plant life.\u201d \u201cTo the scientist,\u201d\nsays Darwin, \u201cit is a hopeless inquiry as to how life originated.\u201d \u201cLife\nfrom an egg,\u201d is still the latest dictum of science; that is, life only\nfrom life.[C] Each of the successive steps or kingdoms has had its\ntype-life. The plant\u2014that is, the physical basis of the plant life\u2014came\nfrom the inorganic matter; the animal\u2014that is, the physical basis of the\nanimal life\u2014came from the plant and through the plant from the mineral\nkingdom; the natural man\u2014that is, the physical basis of the life of the\nnatural man\u2014came from the animal and the kingdoms below it; the spiritual\nman\u2014that is, the physical basis of the life of the spiritual man\u2014comes\nfrom the natural man and the kingdoms below him.\n\nThe development from kingdom to kingdom was a natural unfolding; yet the\nnew creature of the next higher order always came through a new birth\u2014a\ndouble birth: (1) the birth of the new type-life of the next higher\nkingdom into the evolutionary order of nature, through the hereditary\nchain; and (2) the birth of each individual into this type-life.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNone of the previous transitions from a lower to a higher kingdom has\ntaken place within historic times. The cradle at Bethlehem flashes\na searchlight down the spiral stairway up which man has come from\nplatform to platform, kingdom to kingdom. Here at last we see that the\ntype-life of the kingdom of the spiritual man is born from above into the\nhereditary chain of evolution. Many times, and in many ways, He declares\nI am \u201cfrom above.\u201d He is born a natural man, and yet possesses the life\nof the kingdom next higher, and proceeds to lift the natural man by a new\nbirth into the kingdom of the spiritual man. He is born the son of man\nand the son of God, bridging the chasm with His own being.\n\nAgain and again He says, \u201cI am the _life_\u201d; \u201cI have come that ye may have\n_life_\u201d; except ye partake of Me \u201cye have no _life_ in you.\u201d He calls\nHimself the \u201cbread of _life_,\u201d \u201cthe water of _life_.\u201d This would all be\nmeaningless were Christ talking about the life of the kingdom of the\nnatural man which all now have and have had.\n\nAs the spiritual type-life lifts the natural man into the spiritual\nkingdom, so the type-life of the natural man lifted the animal into\nthe kingdom of the natural man, and the animal type-life lifted the\nvegetable, and the vegetable type-life lifted the mineral.\n\nThere is no break in the golden thread that runs through all this series\nof development from the mineral world up to the new creature in Christ\nJesus. There is nothing in this last development contrary to nature; it\nfollows along exactly the same laws of natural unfoldment as did the\nother kingdoms. The law of continuity holds.[D] Christ is born really\ninto the kingdom of the natural man, and the natural man is born into\nthe spiritual kingdom, through Christ, the type-life. In this last stage\nof man\u2019s ascent, as in the previous ones, nature makes \u201cno leap.\u201d Think\nnot, says Christ, \u201cthat I have come to destroy the law; I have not come\nto destroy, but to fulfil\u201d; I have come to carry on My work in harmony\nwith the processes of the universe. What is law but the method that\nthe immanent God, everywhere and forever, pursues in His work? True,\nsegments of the circle He follows are easily out of the reach of our\nvision. Huxley tells us that he has no doubt that even on the physical\nplane, most important work is being done far beyond the reach of the most\npowerful microscope. He might have said, and kept easily within bounds,\n_the_ most important work.\n\nThe crystal is matter plus the principle of crystallization; so the\nplant, the animal, the natural man\u2014always the creature of the kingdom\nbelow with the plus sign, for a birth is an unfoldment and _something\nmore_. And so, the Christ life takes the character, the soul, the spirit\nof the natural man, which have developed through the ages\u2014takes them\nthrough a new birth, this time with man\u2019s consent. \u201cMarvel not that I\nsay unto you, ye must be born again.\u201d \u201cVerily, verily, I say unto thee,\nexcept a man be born from above he can not see the kingdom of God\u201d (John\niii. 3). Ye are \u201cbabes in Christ,\u201d \u201cYe are new creatures.\u201d We become\nheirs \u201cof God through Christ,\u201d crying \u201cAbba, Father.\u201d \u201cIn love\u2019s hour\nEternal Love conceives in us the child of God\u201d through the spiritual\ntype-life Christ Jesus.\n\n * * * * *\n\nChrist could not have been more explicit or more scientifically exact in\ndeclaring Himself the type-life of the spiritual man. \u201cI am the door,\u201d\n\u201cthe way,\u201d \u201cthe life\u201d; \u201cno man can come to the Father but by Me.\u201d \u201cHe\nthat hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath\nnot life\u201d; he may be a C\u00e6sar leading armies against Pompey, or a Cicero\ndeclaiming his matchless orations against Cataline, and yet be _dead_.\n\nIn the inspired picture-history of creation, an Adam is the type-life\nof the kingdom of the natural man; in the New Testament, Christ is\npresented in every way as the type-life of the kingdom of the spiritual\nman. \u201cThe first man Adam was made a living soul; the last Adam was made\na quickening spirit. Howbeit that was not first which is spiritual, but\nthat which is natural; and afterward that which is spiritual\u201d (1 Cor. xv.\n45, 46).\n\n * * * * *\n\nHere, also, the law of conformity to type is manifest. Each type-life\nis perfect, but those who are born through the type-life begin at the\nbottom; the \u201cfall\u201d is great from the type-life to the beginning of growth\nin the next higher kingdom. But from that onward the battle of evolution\nis to secure likeness to the type. \u201cWe all, with open face beholding as\nin a glass the glory of the Lord, _are changed into the same image_ from\nglory to glory\u201d (2 Cor. iii. 18). We shall be \u201cconformed to the _image of\nHis Son_\u201d (Rom. viii. 29). \u201cAs we have borne the image of the earthy, we\nshall also bear the _image of the heavenly_\u201d (1 Cor. xv. 49). After the\nnight is over we shall awake in His likeness.\n\nNewton said that he made a splendid guess at the universal law of\ngravitation when he saw the apple fall. Why may it not be permissible\nfor us to guess, from the law of conformity to type, that in every\nkingdom the new creature carries with it the pattern of its type-life,\nand that after this pattern, in the lower kingdoms, the accompanying\ncells strive to weave a nature corresponding with its kingdom, and in the\nkingdom of the spiritual man the Holy Spirit strives to weave the nature\nof the spiritual man?[E]\n\nIn the lower kingdoms it is a survival of the _fightest_, in the highest\na survival of the fittest, the struggle for life for ourselves merging\ninto a _struggle for life for others_. Even among men in the earlier\ndays, to discover the greatest man, the measuring-string was placed\naround the muscle. That was the age of Hercules. Then the time came\nwhen the measuring-string was placed around the head. That was the age\nof Bacon and Shakespeare. But the time comes in the rapidly advancing\nfuture when the measuring-string will be placed around the heart, and he\nwho measures most there will be most conformed to the Master, for he is\ngreatest who most fully gives himself for others.\n\n * * * * *\n\nEvolution goes on, hereafter, in the inner and upper world, outside and\nbeyond our vision, making many and many variations doubtless, as in the\nlower realms. In the Father\u2019s spiritual house also are many mansions.\nWe are stepping from the physiological to the psychological, from body\nand mind to spirit. As in all previous growth, the latest type-life is\nreappearing in His generation\u2014in the \u201cnew creatures\u201d of His kingdom.\n\n\nII\n\nThe outward evolution\u2014that of the physical\u2014marvelous beyond thought, is\ncomparatively insignificant. The chief evolution has been and is within.\nThe scientist is unscientific who ignores the greater evolution and\nbuilds his explanatory system on the lesser\u2014on the least. Psychology is\nalso a science. Has nature one method for the development of the physical\npart of man\u2019s being, and another for the development of the non-material\nand spiritual? Nature is not divided. What means the hereditary likeness,\nmental and spiritual\u2014not less marked than the physical? These marks often\nskip many generations and then reappear again in full. They can not,\ntherefore, be the result of education or imitation. Nor is it easy to\nbelieve that they were placed within us by a direct act of creation, as\nthe old-fashioned theological professor taught that God mixed the fossils\nwith the plastic stones at creation, somewhat as a cook mixes raisins and\nother fruits in the dough for her plum-pudding.\n\nWhat means the gradual development in the brain of the cerebrum and\ncerebellum, the organs of the soul powers, enlarging from generation to\ngeneration? These are scarcely visible in the lowest animals. They become\nlarger as we advance up the animal scale of intelligence, or psychic\npower; large in the ape, who came far along the same line that man came;\nfour times as large in the lowest Zulu as in the ape, but far larger in\nthe European and American civilized man\u2014thus slowly made perfect through\nawful struggles and sufferings, painfully growing a million years or\nmore. Is it not then reasonable to believe that there is a corresponding\npsychic or soul development from generation to generation in the unseen\nindividuality, the ego, which uses the cerebrum and cerebellum as organs;\nthat up the spiral stairway of evolution the whole man has come,\u2014his\npersonality, with its soul powers, and the physical organs of these\npowers in the brain, and the entire physical man?\n\nTo-day, in the unfolding embryo of every child, nature marvelously and\nclearly retells the history of the evolution of the physical nature of\nthe human race from the one-celled moneron to the billion-celled man. For\nthe embryo of the child is a historic map, done in flesh and blood, of\nthe evolution of man, of the forms he has assumed, broadly speaking, as\nhe climbed nature\u2019s stairway.[F]\n\nIs it hard to believe that our individuality has been born and reborn\nthrough the line of ancestry back to the type-lives, and through them\nback to the \u201cbeginning,\u201d when God took of His own life to develop,\nthrough ages of conflict, personalities other than His own who would, of\ntheir own free will, choose goodness? Is it hard to believe that at every\nsuccessive birth each parent has placed his stamp upon the individuality,\nbut that the individuality has perdured being reborn again and again into\nsuccessive higher kingdoms? Does it seem hard to believe that we should\nbe born many times? Is it then harder to believe that we should be born\n_after_ we have lived than that we should be born when we have not lived?\nThe profoundest mystery is in the first birth, in which we all believe.\nAnd why should it be thought by us incredible that, with the mingling of\nthe parental cells, the individuality exactly fitted should be reborn in\nthe line of heredity, receiving the parental stamp, being attracted by\nthe law which answers to that law which guides the atom unerringly to\nits place in the crystal\u2014that same law wonderfully exalted? Whatever and\nwherever character is, it must be obedient to the law that draws it, for\nthe law of attraction is even more irresistible in the inner world than\nis the law of gravitation in the outer world. Every man as he comes to\nhis birth comes to his own place; in a profound sense he _chooses_ his\nparents and his surroundings. As he was, he is, plus his birth-gain and\nhis growth through consent and volition; his past leads him.\n\nAnd in this last transition each man is conscious that his individuality\ncontinues, altho he passes from one kingdom into the next. The dictum\nof science is \u201cno leap, no break\u201d\u2014continuity. Then it is reasonable\nto believe that the individuality will continue through succeeding\nfuture changes, as it has continued these millions of years through the\nsuccessive past changes. It would require much credulity to believe that\nnature has travailed in pain these untold ages to develop a personality\nthat would of its own free will choose goodness, only to destroy\nthat personality as soon as made. John Fiske has well said:[G] \u201cThe\nmaterialistic assumption that the life of the soul ends with the life of\nthe body, is perhaps the most colossal instance of assumption that is\nknown in the history of philosophy.\u201d\n\nThat was a provincial notion about the universe which was held before\nCopernicus\u2019s time\u2014the belief that the sun, planets, stars, all revolved\naround the earth. Copernicus was called the destroyer of faith and\nbitterly denounced. His idea made the earth but a speck, and the Milky\nWay\u2014billions of miles long\u2014the mere yard-stick of the universe. All\nthis has immensely enlarged faith\u2014did not destroy it. Darwin, too, was\ncalled the destroyer of faith; but now we begin to see that evolution, in\ngiving man countless eons of growth, instead of keeping him a creature of\nyesterday, bounded by the cradle and grave, has immensely enlarged faith,\nand beyond thought has added to the dignity of man.\n\n\nIII\n\nAt each succeeding birth the individuality, to thrive, must be in\nharmony with its changed surroundings, and the cells that swarm in every\norganized body struggle to bring this to pass. It is the business of the\ncell to obey the pushings of the governing force in the organization\nto which it belongs. The plant needs water, minerals, air, sunshine.\nIts attendant cells hear the cry of their master and build roots into\nthe ground and branches into the air, and weave leaves into lungs and\nlaboratories. Note a vine in some cave\u2014how it works its way toward the\nhole through which sunshine is streaming, and how it causes some roots\nto build out toward a vein of water; others toward a skeleton many\nfeet away and along the bones of that skeleton\u2014hungering and thirsting\nfor minerals, water, light, heat. Hungering and thirsting\u2014asking,\nknocking\u2014the plant receives. Seek and ye shall find; strive and it shall\nbe yours. This is the law in the plant life, the law in the animal life,\nin the life of the natural man, in the life of the spiritual man.\n\nIn a deep sense, as a man thinketh so he is. The universe of cells\nwithin each man calls him \u201cmaster.\u201d Ye are gods; kings upon thrones;\nyour slightest wish is heard; your earnest, persistent desire compels\nobedience. Answer to prayer is a growth, a building up or down to what\nyou wish. Wishing is asking. Ask what you will, and from that instant\nreceiving, you receive.\n\nChrist can never _fully_ come into a man until the man has grown up to\nthe level of spiritual things. It is a sensuous generation that seeks to\nbe satisfied with consolation through the physical senses.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAll of our faculties carry their own demonstrations of truth up to the\nlevel of their development. To the pure and loving, purity and love need\nno witnesses. Every man has had placed in his hand a latch-key to the\nbeauty and wisdom\u2014to all of the excellences of the universe; but there\nis only one way of using that latch-key effectively. We must grow to a\nlevel with the latch. I must have an eye fitted for the landscape, and\nmust have a poetic soul before the landscape can read its poetry to\nme. I may believe that Beethoven\u2019s Ninth Symphony is music because a\nmaster of music has told me so; that is belief based on authority; or,\nI may measure the waves of sound and scientifically demonstrate that\nit is music; but such evidences are beggarly, and praise based on them\nwould drive a composer mad. But let me hunger and thirst after music;\nseek, pray for musical sight and soul until I develop up to the level of\nBeethoven\u2019s Symphony; then as quickly as I hear it I exclaim: \u201cThat is\nmusic!\u201d Do you ask: \u201cWho told you?\u201d I answer: \u201cNo one; I _know_ it!\u201d My\nlatch-key enters, for I am on a level with the latch. I asked, I sought,\nI knocked, until I grew up into the musical world. I must grow up to God\nbefore I can know Him; I must grow up to Christ before I can see Him. The\npure in heart shall see and hear spiritual things. I must be on God\u2019s\nlevel before even the lowly flower can tell me the thought that was in\nHis mind when He created it.\n\nSeek is the law of growth in all kingdoms; and it is the law of\ndevelopment and of the adjustment of the feeders through which each\nkingdom asserts itself to its creatures and gives them their food\nand consolation. Who has not smiled many times at the serio-humorous\nreflection of Robert Louis Stevenson on hearing of the death of Matthew\nArnold: \u201cSo, Arnold is dead! I am sorry; he won\u2019t like God.\u201d There is a\nprofoundly solemn truth under this witticism.\n\nThere is health for the plant in sun-rays; the plant had the need of\nlight, and its cells heard the cry and groped toward the light. That\ncapacity for light and that groping of the cells proved the existence of\nthe sun. The conscious feeling after God among people everywhere proves\nthe existence of God and of the spiritual world.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe new-born child must adjust its lungs to the atmosphere into which it\ncomes or it must die. It hereafter must eat and drink with its mouth,\nbreathe with its lungs; it must have new feeders. The bird, as it chips\nits way out of the egg, adjusts itself to its new surroundings. It is a\nhard trial often for a child to be weaned, yet it is love that does it.\nIt is done to give it more abundant life, not less.\n\nThis is the meaning of self-denial, fasting, repentance, suffering\u2014the\nweaning of the feeders from the old to the new environment\u2014the feeders\nthat give food and consolation. We enter into the kingdom of the\nspiritual man as the babe enters into the kingdom of the natural man.\nEvery new creature grows up from the grave of the old. Up the stairs\nof holy patience we climb the heights of the inner kingdom. Our will\nhenceforth is to yield our will, but the sensuous man contests every inch\nwith the spiritual. The perishing of the old man day by day is painful,\nand so is the renewal of the inner, for birth also is painful. We learn\nto love love, hate hate, and fear only fear; but every move upward has in\nit birth-pangs. We are in the soul\u2019s gymnasium\u2014on its battle-field. The\ncreature was made subject to vanity for a cause.[H] Says Ruskin: \u201cI do\nnot wonder often at what men suffer, but I wonder at what they lose.\u201d\n\nHow strange it is to look into a human face, and to look into human eyes,\nand to think that a son of the living God is veiled there\u2014to think of the\ngreatness of that creature, for the accomplishment of which all creation\non earth has been in travail for these untold ages!\n\nOften not anything extraordinary impresses us as we see the Christ-nature\nin a comrade; but wait; we see this kingdom of the soul only in its germ.\nThe bulb of the tiger-lily is not over-pretty, but to the eyes that\nsee the possibilities of the tiger-lily that bulb is a poem. The step\nfrom the highest morality of the natural man to the lowest round in the\nkingdom of the spiritual man is a stupendous one. John the Baptist was\nthe greatest of those born of women; but the least in the new kingdom of\nthe spiritual man is greater than he.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDo not say that you can not be born again. You can and must. It is\nnatural to step into this kingdom, as natural as growth is. The natural\nresponse of the heart is Christian, says Tertullian. Our experience\nsupports and justifies this necessity.\n\nThe great original sculptors of Greece, whom all the world now studies,\nstayed at home to study as Emerson would say, and did not bother much\nwith going to Egypt or Mesopotamia. God is a rewarder of those that\ndiligently seek Him, not by imitation, not outwardly, not with the noise\nof words that men may hear, but in the closet, in the silence of the\ninner chamber of the soul. Every man must find himself, and be himself;\nthe new birth and growth in Christ make perfect each man\u2019s individuality.\nBut there must be another conception of God than that against which the\nBuddhists warn us, that He is a \u201ccow to be milked.\u201d\n\nGod hid Himself behind the world of our physical senses that we, free of\nall compulsion, might develop the spiritual man. When that is developed,\nGod can safely reveal His infinite power and wisdom and goodness. Who\ncould make free choice in the conscious presence of an infinite One?\n\nEvolution is a sword that cuts both ways. It chooses, it condemns.\nThe fittest survive. There are many called, but few chosen. The most\npathetic and pitiful thing in all the world is to see the multitudes\nstriving to get out of the kingdom of the natural man what is not in it.\n\nPunishment comes\u2014it, too, is natural; and it is largely within.\nDegeneracy, through persistent wrong-choosing, is the law of\nnature\u2014fixed, inevitable. If a man will not choose to ascend, he loses\nhis power to choose.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe scientist is short-sighted and narrow-sighted who walls science in at\nthe boundary of his senses\u2014a mole accounting for phenomena, and leaving\nout the eye; a Laura Bridgeman accounting for whatever came into her life\nby her two or three physical senses.\n\nFoolish wise men, not to know that the surest of all proofs is to be\nlooked for in inner experience; that the most real things in the world\nare made clear not by physical proof, but by life! Darwin reached the\npoint where poetry and music were little to him; yet the world of music\nand of beauty are more certain than is Mont Blanc or Mount Washington;\nbut there is only one way to know them, and that is to grow the faculties\nof music and beauty. To the Roman soldiers who may have heard it,\nhow unsubstantial was the Sermon on the Mount; yet its truths of the\nbrotherhood of man, of the fatherhood of God, of meekness, of loving, of\njustice, of faith in the inner things, outlasted the Roman armies, saw\nthe empire ground to dust, and their speaker, one thousand nine hundred\nyears afterward, by far the most potent personality that ever lived. The\nmother\u2019s love will outpull gravity, and yet what scientist has chemically\nanalyzed it, or what dissecting-knife has revealed its whereabouts? There\nare brute women to whom this love is \u201cunthinkable,\u201d \u201cunknowable,\u201d but let\nthem grow the mother-heart, and then they can think it, know it.\n\nFoolish wise men, ye can discern the shadow of things; look up and behold\nthe substance! Rochefort said to Gambetta: \u201cDeafness is not politics.\u201d\nWhen will scientists learn that true science must have eyes and ears open\nto all experience within as well as without.\n\nOnce scientists among moles held a congress, and learnedly resolved that\nthey would believe in nothing that could not be submitted for proof to\ntheir four senses. One learned mole with bated breath said: \u201cThere must\nbe something above our four senses. I one day broke through the crust\nof the earth and felt strange sensations, and had a glimmering in the\nrudiments called eyes by our older philosophers.\u201d \u201cNonsense!\u201d said a\ngrayhead among them. \u201cLet us have no transcendentalism; everything that\nis must be explained by sound, or by touch, or by smell, or by the taste.\nAll this talk of a great central sun with light, making landscapes and\nfrom which all things come, we have no way of proving; and hence to\nbelieve it, or to admit it as an element in accounting for things, is\nunscientific. The scientific method, let us never forget, is to account\nfor all things by the elements which come within the range of our four\nsenses and the reasoning based upon these perceptions.\u201d\n\nSo it happens that to this day in the cosmic science accepted among moles\nthe sun has nothing to do with the growth of plants, the formation of\ncoal-beds, and the rotation of the seasons.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHow imperfect that history that would content itself with writing a\nbiography of the acorn, and never take into account the oak that comes\nfrom the acorn and for which the acorn exists! The oak reveals the acorn;\nwithout the oak the acorn is not explicable. How can any one understand\nthe evolution of man and not consider the vastly greater segment of his\nnature, which is the non-material and spiritual? The scientist believes\nin the indestructibility of matter. The step is a short one to the belief\nin the indestructibility of spirit. He believes in substance infinitely\nextended; the step is not a long one to belief in the personality that\nis infinitely extended. He believes that in all matter is a \u201cthinking\nsubstance.\u201d Is it harder to believe that over and in all things is a\nthinking spirit?[I] The scientist endows matter with the powers it needs\nto do all these things, and then says it does all these things.\n\nYet science, when it comes to know, when it comes to take in all the\nfacts, to go deep enough, and wide enough, and far enough, will be the\narbiter. Creed, dogma, authority, must give way to it. Magellan said:\n\u201cThe Church declares the world is flat, but I have seen its shadow on\nthe moon, and I had rather believe a shadow than the Church.\u201d That is\ntrue only when the Church makes provision for but a part of the truth,\nand when science is true to itself. The assumptions of science and the\nassumptions of the Church will have to be corrected by _experience_, the\nexperience of the _whole_ man.\n\n\nV\n\nChrist is not an idealism, but a living, throbbing, visible, audible\nBeing\u2014the real Christ; the body in Galilee was the shadow, the outward\nshell that could be crushed. The One now coming is the Mighty One who\nis out of the reach of stones and spears, the type-life and potent King\nof the kingdom of the spiritual man. And he who hath Him also hath\npower. \u201cYe shall receive _power_\u201d (Acts i. 8). \u201cStephen, full of faith\nand _power_\u201d (Acts vi. 8). \u201cThe kingdom of God is not in word, but in\n_power_\u201d (1 Cor. iv. 20). Says Paul of those at Corinth who found fault\nwith him: I will not know their speech, but their _power_ (1 Cor. iv.\n19). He who has not _power_ is not of the kingdom of the spiritual man,\nfor \u201cwhatsoever is born of God overcometh the world.\u201d This Christ is a\npresent force in the world, producing changes, quickening and directing\nenergies, and must be reckoned with. Christian civilization also proves\nitself by its _power_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut to see Him this time we must have eyes and ears fitted to recognize\nthe manifestations of the inner kingdom\u2014the kingdom of all first causes\nand real forces. He is not coming with the noise of trumpets, nor with\nwhirlwinds, nor with earthquakes; but with the silence of the growth of\nthe mustard-seed, of the leaven, of the grain of corn reaching up to the\nblade and full corn in the ear.\n\nThere can be nothing more manifest to-day to the optic nerve of the\nspiritual man than is this coming. The lightning flashing from the east\nto the west is not nearly so manifest.\n\nEvery event is alive with His appearing. His presence is the most evident\nthing in the world, the very splendor of the light hides Him. \u201cLo, I am\nwith you alway!\u201d is now known by millions to be a vital, stupendous fact.\nHe is nearer to such a heart than the mother to the babe.\n\nThis coming is in harmony with recognizable law; belief in it is logic,\nis common sense. It would be extraordinary, miraculous, if He did not now\ncome. When it is our will to do His will, we become the reincarnation\nof Christ, for \u201cChrist is formed in us.\u201d When the dominating ones in a\ncommunity, in a church, in a nation, in the world, are of this sort,\nyou see Christ reincarnated in all these. Moses, David, John, Plato,\nAugustine, Savonarola, Bunyan, were great ideal dreamers, but they were\nalso geniuses of common sense. These men were primarily men of faith and\ngreat good sense, not of credulity. They had the power and common sense\nto know that there were voices within, and to withdraw their attention\nfrom the voices without and give the real world a chance to be heard.\nThey knew that the universe would fall into chaos and that stars would be\nground to dust if these worlds were disobedient to law. They knew that\nthere was an inner universe, and that there were inner laws infinitely\nmore important. They knew it to be the A B C of common sense to conform\nto these inner laws. Christ was and is the embodiment of common sense;\nand so His followers become as they grow into the new creatures of the\nkingdom of the spiritual man.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere are voices within distinct and clear to those who have ears to\nhear; clearer than silver bells ringing up in air at midnight. One who\nhas grown this spiritual nature ceases to talk about the inward world\nbeing silent or hid\u2014yet there are clouds and doubts. These things must\nneeds be\u2014these assailed Christ to the last. And if angels do not also\nfollow, ministering to us, it is because we have not reached the plane\nof spiritual seeing. Help is always near, and it should not be necessary\nfor a prophet\u2019s hand to touch our eyes to enable us to see the mountains\ncovered with heavenly allies, or to enable us to know the signs of the\ntimes. There is no room for fear. Bismarck spoke with the accents of a\nprophet when he said: \u201cGermany fears nothing but God.\u201d The cry is gone\nout to the ends of the earth: \u201cGreat is the soul of man; make way, make\nway!\u201d\n\nThese signs of a mighty change are deepening and multiplying as we swing\ninto the new century. The Jewish people were to be trodden underfoot\nuntil the inner kingdom of love should be established; that barbarism of\nhate is now rapidly dying.\n\nWere we wise enough, events all around us would be to us prophecies of\nthe coming of the triumphant God, of the kingdom of the spiritual man.\n\nWatch! By watching we develop the ability to discern things beyond the\nsenses.\n\nAbove every cloud the light is now breaking; the earth is rolling into\nthe dawn of a marvelous day.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe yoke of ecclesiasticism is giving way to the yoke of Christ.\nCreed is the memory of the Church. The real yoke of Christ is not a\nburden; it has wings. He is sweetness and light. Let criticism have\nits way. The testing-time has come, give it welcome. A man must now\nstand a vital Christian, or a hypocrite, or an open enemy\u2014that will\nbe a great gain. Creeds to-day are trying to understand one another.\nChristianity is being reduced to its least common denominator, a living\nChrist. The church is finding it harder and harder to think of itself\nas a great-great-grandchild. It is coming to believe in its present\nexperiences, and to write its own creeds for to-day, and not for\nto-morrow. Since God is, the Church and the world will not necessarily\nfall to pieces if they let go their props and scaffoldings. If there be\nno God, creeds and forms and ceremonies are necessities. A living God is\nefficient and sufficient.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere is no more unfailing sign of the nearness of Christ than the\ngrowth of loving beyond the provincialism of the family, the clan, the\nclass, the nation. \u201cYe are brethren.\u201d All things in common, was not\nan impracticable dream, but a fundamental law of the kingdom of the\nspiritual Man. We must organize sooner or later on that basis. We are\nspeeding onward toward that sun. We feel its growing heat. If we do not\nlove our brethren whom we have seen, how can we love God whom we have not\nseen? What do ye mean by the communion of saints, ye who pray it Sunday\nby Sunday? Spell it out. Brotherhood is not a fiction of the imagination.\nCommunion is not a Pentecostal fantasy. A living Christ is to-day more\nthan ever on earth an aggressively unifying force. Immensely human was\nChrist\u2019s message to man\u2014Brotherhood and Fatherhood, and by those tokens\nwe recognize His present footsteps.\n\nJudge these things as you would the motions of the hands of the clock.\nLook back a half dozen centuries and make comparisons. War is recognized\nmore and more as a barbarism, and its end is over yonder hill. The court\nof nations to settle wrongs is looming above the horizon. The nation that\nloves its fellow nations is also born of God.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe humanities are in order. Over one hundred and ten million dollars\nwere contributed in the United States for educational and other charities\nwithin the last two years.[J] Nearly two million dollars were given to\nsuffering Galveston; and Carnegie\u2019s immense benefactions are but one of\nthe many indications of the full dawning of the day of living for others.\n\nA single individual the other day, a member of an unpopular race, is\nwronged in France, and all the world is aroused, and flashes thunderbolts\nof wrath under oceans and across continents until there is a beginning to\nright the wrong. Mankind is rapidly becoming\n\n \u201c\u2026 One in spirit, and in instinct bears along\n Around the earth\u2019s electric circle the swift flash of right and wrong.\u201d\n\nThe marvelous sowing about the Sea of Galilee is reaching its ripening.\nThe leaven is leavening the whole lump. The mustard-seed reappears in\nhundreds and hundreds of millions of seed. Cuba is helped to freedom for\nits own sake; the Russian Czar\u2014he at least\u2014in sincerity says: \u201cWar should\nend.\u201d In business it is ceasing to be a maxim that the benefit of the\none is ever opposed to the benefit of the many. We are learning that the\nGolden Rule and the law of self-preservation run parallel. Applied to\ncommercialism, the Golden Rule is so to make money as to give a benefit\nalso to him from whom you make it; and that, too, is common sense. The\nchildren of the inner kingdom never crowd: the more, the more room.\n\nIn all these things we see just the beginnings of the results of His\ncoming: all men of one family, God the Father, and Christ the eldest\nBrother; the sacredness of truth, of the soul, of all life; the reality\nof the inner world.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMan has climbed up in countless ages by the slow processes of evolution\nto where he can use the powers of nature through his brain\u2014becoming a\ncoworker with God in guiding the processes of evolution. Now, being\nreborn into the inner kingdom, he starts on a new and infinitely higher\ndestiny. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, the things that are laid up\nfor those thus born.\n\nWith a boundless universe within and without, and an infinite God, and\nwith an eternity to live and work in, many, many things can take place,\nand it is God\u2019s good pleasure that they shall never take place to our\nhurt. The creature of the kingdom of the spiritual man is injury-proof.\n\nAnd the command is: \u201cBe ye perfect as your Father is perfect\u201d; ever\napproaching Him in countless ages and reaching Him at the end of\neternity, had eternity an end; but since it has no end, in whatever\ndistant period and however great the distance between us, God is still\nthe Infinite One and we the finite ones.\n\nAh, how men err! The Roman Emperor, after his awful massacre of\nChristians, set up a column in memory of the extinction of the last\nChristian. But the Roman empire is in dust, and now the world is rapidly\nbecoming wholly Christian; and were that Emperor alive, he, quite likely,\nwould applaud the result. God\u2019s steppings are from star to star. Who\nknoweth His counsel?\n\nWe look back over the conflict of the ages of evolution; we now see,\nin the changing of the dunghill into shrubs and roses and into food,\nthe prophecy of all, and we marvel at our blindness in not knowing that\nthe most manifest thing in all the world, and at all times, was God the\nFather working for good, whom again and again we have compelled to cry\nout in pain (for God can suffer pain): The reproaches of men have broken\nmy heart. Looking backward, we begin to see the good in everything, that\nthere has not been a fall of a sparrow without accompanying provision\nfor the sparrow, and we grow enthusiastic and shout with the martyr of\nold: \u201cGlory be to God for everything that happens!\u201d Hand-in-hand we walk\nwith the great Father over the ages of history, riding victorious over\nmountain-tops.\n\nWe see, modifying the words of John Fiske, that in the roaring loom of\ntime, out of the endless web of events, strand by strand, was woven more\nand more clearly the living garment of God.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen Christ had passed beyond the grave, He said \u201cMary,\u201d and Mary\nsaid \u201cMaster\u201d; they spake, they understood, tho death and the grave\nintervened. The world of the physical senses has no barrier that hinders\nknowing in the kingdom of the spiritual man.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u201cThe Wandering Jew\u201d is near the end of his wanderings.\n\nAs reasoned the Apostle:[K] If the Gentiles were cut out of the\nolive-tree which is wild by nature, and were grafted contrary to nature\ninto a good olive-tree, how much more shall the Jews, which be the\nnatural branches, be grafted into their own olive-tree? For God is able\nto graft them in again. For I would not, brethren, that you should be\nignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits:\nthat blindness in part has happened to Israel, _until the fulness of the\nGentiles be come in_. AND SO ALL ISRAEL SHALL BE SAVED.\n\n I. K. F.\n\nNEW YORK, April 15, 1901.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n[A] It has been believed by many from the early ages of the Christian\nera that among the signs of Christ\u2019s coming would be the recognition\nof Him by the Jews, as \u201cone sent of the Father,\u201d and that they would\nthen be restored to the Father\u2019s favor; that this recognition would be\naccompanied by a recolonization of the Jews in Palestine; that from this\nvantage-ground, they, as a nation among nations\u2014the \u201cinherent genius of\nthe Jews for things religious\u201d again reasserting itself\u2014would lead the\nnations of earth in final triumph into the kingdom of the spiritual man.\n\nProf. R. Gottheil, of Columbia University, and president of the\nFederation of American Zionists, said, before the Zionist Congress, in\nthe summer of 1900, in London: \u201cIt is time the nations understood our\nmotives. Our purpose is gradually to colonize Palestine. We political\nZionists desire a charter from the Sultan authorizing us to settle in our\nHoly Land, and we ask the powers to approve and protect this charter.\u201d\n\n[B] This is simply a name: both kingdoms, that of the natural man and\nthat of the spiritual man, are in harmony with the laws of sequence.\n\n[C] \u201cThere is not a shadow of trustworthy direct evidence that\nabiogenesis [spontaneous generation] does take place or has taken place\nwithin the period during which the existence of life on the globe is\nrecorded.\u201d\u2014Huxley, under \u201cBiology,\u201d Encyclopedia Britannica, vol. iii.,\npage 689. \u201cThese are the generations of every plant of the field _before_\nit was in the earth.\u201d\u2014Gen. ii. 4, 5.\n\n\u201cThat it [human consciousness] can not possibly be the product of\nany cunning arrangement of material particles is demonstrated beyond\nperadventure by what we now know of the correlation of physical\nforces.\u201d\u2014Fiske, \u201cThe Destiny of Man,\u201d page 42. \u201cBy no possibility can\nthought and feeling be in any sense the products of matter.\u201d\u2014_Idem._,\npage 109.\n\n[D] Alfred Russel Wallace, who was joint discoverer with Darwin of\nevolution, and is its greatest living exponent, in his book \u201cDarwinism,\u201d\npage 474, shows the fallacy as to new causes involving any breach of\ncontinuity\u2014these new causes embracing vegetable life, animal life, and\nthe higher powers of man. He says, page 476: \u201cStill more surely can\nwe refer to it [the spiritual world] those progressive manifestations\nof life in the vegetable, the animal, and man.\u201d Also, in \u201cNatural\nSelection,\u201d page 185: \u201cThe higher powers in man are surest proof that\nthere are other and higher existences than ourselves, from whom these\nqualities may have been derived, and toward whom we may be ever tending.\u201d\n\n[E] After watching the process hour by hour (in the semi-fluid globule\nof protoplasm of the embryo), one is almost involuntarily possessed by\nthe notion that some more subtle aid to vision than an achromatic would\nshow the hidden artist, with his plan before him, striving with skilful\nmanipulation to perfect his work.\u2014Huxley, \u201cLay Sermons,\u201d page 261.\n\n[F] Romanes, in \u201cDarwin and After Darwin,\u201d chapter iv., says that the\nembryo is a r\u00e9sum\u00e9 or recapitulation of the successive phases through\nwhich the being has been developed, with explainable omissions. On page\n102 he tells of the young salamander that is so complete in its gills\nshortly before birth that if it is removed from the womb and placed in\nwater it will be able to live, breathing like a fish through its gills.\n\n[G] \u201cThe Destiny of Man,\u201d page 110.\n\n[H] \u201cIt is an inevitable deduction from the hypothesis of evolution that\nraces of sentient creatures could have come into existence under no\nother conditions [than those of pains and pleasures].\u201d\u2014\u201cData of Ethics,\u201d\nHerbert Spencer, section 33.\n\n[I] \u201cWe adhere firmly to the pure, unequivocal monism of Spinoza: Matter,\nor infinitely extended substance, and spirit (or energy), or sensitive\nand thinking substance, are the two fundamental attributes or principal\nproperties of the all-embracing divine essence of the world, the\nuniversal substance.\u201d\u2014\u201cThe Riddle of the Universe,\u201d Ernst Haeckel, p. 21.\n\n[J] From advance sheets of \u201cAppleton\u2019s Annual Cyclop\u00e6dia\u201d for 1901.\n\n[K] Rom. xi.\n\n\n\n\nAUTHOR\u2019S PREFACE\n\n\nThere has appeared from time to time in Europe, during the past thousand\nyears, a mysterious individual\u2014a sojourner in all lands, yet a citizen\nof none; professing the profoundest secrets of opulence, yet generally\nliving in a state of poverty; astonishing every one by the vigor of his\nrecollections, and the evidence of his intercourse with the eminent\ncharacters and events of every age, yet connected with none\u2014without\nlineage, possession, or pursuit on earth\u2014a wanderer and unhappy!\n\nA number of histories have been written about him; some purely\nfictitious, others founded on ill-understood records. Germany, the land\nof mysticism, has toiled the most in this idle perversion of truth. Yet\nthose narratives have been in general but a few pages, feebly founded\non the fatal sentence of his punishment for an indignity offered to the\nAuthor of the Christian faith.\n\nThat exile lives! that most afflicted of the people of affliction yet\nwalks this earth, bearing the sorrows of eighteen centuries on his\nbrow\u2014withering in soul for the guilt of an hour of madness. He has\nlong borne the scoff of man in silence; he has heard his princely rank\ndegraded to that of a menial, and heard without a murmur; he has heard\nhis unhappy offense charged to deliberate malice, when it was but the\nmisfortune of a zeal inflamed by the passions of his people; and he has\nbowed to the calumny as a portion of his punishment. But the time for\nthis forbearance is no more. He feels himself at last wearing away; and\nfeels, with a sensation like that of returning to the common fates of\nmankind, a desire to stand clear with his fellow men. In their presence\nhe will never move again; to their justice, or their mercy, he will\nnever again appeal. The wound of his soul rests, never again to be\ndisclosed, until that day when all beings shall be summoned and all\nsecrets be known.\n\nIn his final retreat he has collected these memorials. He has concealed\nnothing; he has dissembled nothing; the picture of his hopes and fears,\nhis weaknesses and his sorrows, is stamped here with sacred sincerity.\n\nOther narratives may be more specious or eloquent, but this narrative has\nthe supreme merit of reality. It may be doubted; it may even be denied.\nBut this he must endure. He has been long trained to the severity of the\nworld!\n\n THE AUTHOR.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n INTRODUCTORY LETTER FROM GENERAL LEWIS WALLACE, v\n\n INTRODUCTION, ix\n\n AUTHOR\u2019S PREFACE, xxxi\n\n BOOK I\n\n CHAPTER\n\n I.\u2014Salathiel Doomed to Immortality, 3\n\n II.\u2014An Awakening and a Summons, 10\n\n III.\u2014Salathiel\u2019s Resolution in the Temple, 15\n\n IV.\u2014Salathiel Journeys Far from Jerusalem, 22\n\n V.\u2014Eleazar Learns of Salathiel\u2019s Renunciation, 28\n\n VI.\u2014Salathiel and His People, 35\n\n VII.\u2014The Loss of a Life, 41\n\n VIII.\u2014Salathiel Confronts the Shade of Antiochus, 47\n\n IX.\u2014The Romans Driven from the Holy City, 56\n\n X.\u2014The Fall of Onias, 62\n\n XI.\u2014The Strength of Judea, 69\n\n XII.\u2014The Prince of Naphtali Confronts Desolation, 78\n\n XIII.\u2014The Wandering of a Mind Diseased, 84\n\n XIV.\u2014The Fury of a Tempest, 92\n\n XV.\u2014The Appeal of Miriam, 101\n\n XVI.\u2014The Heart of Salome, 112\n\n XVII.\u2014A Declaration of Love, 121\n\n XVIII.\u2014Salathiel Faces a Roman, 132\n\n XIX.\u2014On Board a Trireme, 138\n\n XX.\u2014The Burning of Rome, 145\n\n XXI.\u2014The Death of a Martyr, 157\n\n BOOK II\n\n XXII.\u2014The Year of Jubilee, 173\n\n XXIII.\u2014Preparing for an Attack, 181\n\n XXIV.\u2014The Departure of Constantius, 189\n\n XXV.\u2014Salathiel in Strange Company, 197\n\n XXVI.\u2014In the Lions\u2019 Lair, 205\n\n XXVII.\u2014The Escape of Salathiel the Magician, 215\n\n XXVIII.\u2014The Power of a Beggar, 221\n\n XXIX.\u2014Prisoners in a Labyrinth, 232\n\n XXX.\u2014The Revenge of a Victor, 242\n\n XXXI.\u2014The Difficulties of a Leader, 251\n\n XXXII.\u2014\u201cNever Shalt Thou Enter Jerusalem,\u201d 258\n\n XXXIII.\u2014Jubal\u2019s Warning, 265\n\n XXXIV.\u2014The Pursuit of an Enemy, 272\n\n XXXV.\u2014The Lapse of Years, 276\n\n XXXVI.\u2014Death in a Cavern, 284\n\n XXXVII.\u2014A Pirate Band, 291\n\n XXXVIII.\u2014Salathiel and the Pirate Captain, 300\n\n XXXIX.\u2014A Sea Fight, 310\n\n XL.\u2014A Burning Trireme, 317\n\n XLI.\u2014The Granddaughter of Ananus, 323\n\n BOOK III\n\n XLII.\u2014Naomi\u2019s Story, 333\n\n XLIII.\u2014Before Masada, 339\n\n XLIV.\u2014Among Roman Soldiers, 346\n\n XLV.\u2014The Reign of the Sword, 353\n\n XLVI.\u2014A Cry of Wo, 358\n\n XLVII.\u2014The Struggle for Supremacy, 362\n\n XLVIII.\u2014The Sting of a Story, 372\n\n XLIX.\u2014Salathiel\u2019s Strange Quarters, 377\n\n L.\u2014After the Struggle, 383\n\n LI.\u2014A Man of Mystery, 389\n\n LII.\u2014The Prophecy of Evil, 396\n\n LIII.\u2014A Fatal Sign, 401\n\n LIV.\u2014Concerning Septimius, 411\n\n LV.\u2014Salathiel a Prisoner, 417\n\n LVI.\u2014A Narrow Escape, 425\n\n LVII.\u2014Onias, the Enemy of Salathiel, 435\n\n LVIII.\u2014Eleazar the Convert, 445\n\n LIX.\u2014The Clemency of Titus, 455\n\n LX.\u2014The Treatment of a Prisoner, 466\n\n LXI.\u2014A Steward\u2019s Narrative, 474\n\n LXII.\u2014A Prisoner in the Tower, 487\n\n LXIII.\u2014A Minstrel\u2019s Power of Speech, 496\n\n LXIV.\u2014The Destruction of Jerusalem, 512\n\n APPENDIX\n\n Annotations, 537\n\n Jesus of Nazareth from the Present Jewish Point of View\u2014Letters\n from over Thirty Representative Jewish Scholars, 551\n\n Other Testimony to Jesus, 570\n\n The Second Coming of Christ\u2014A Succinct History, by D. S.\n Gregory, D.D., LL.D., 574\n\n Reasons for the Belief that Christ may Come Within the Next\n Twenty Years, by Arthur T. Pierson, D.D., 582\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n \u201cTarry thou till I come!\u201d _Frontispiece_\n\n \u201cAll in the Temple was confusion,\u201d 20\n\n \u201cThe archer dropped dead, with the arrow still on his bow,\u201d 64\n\n \u201c\u2018Read the Scriptures. I have prayed for you. Read\u2014\u2019\u201d 104\n\n \u201c\u2018Let your guard come,\u2019 cried I,\u201d 136\n\n \u201cI heard the gnashing of his white fangs above me,\u201d 168\n\n \u201cThe lions, made more furious by wounds, sprang upon the\n powerful horses,\u201d 208\n\n \u201cI gave the word\u2014fell upon the guard at the gate, and cast it\n open!\u201d 240\n\n \u201c\u2018Now for glory!\u2019 they cried,\u201d 268\n\n \u201cThe solitary voyager of the burning trireme,\u201d 318\n\n \u201cI had rescued Constantius!\u201d 356\n\n \u201cThe Roman rushed at him with his drawn falchion,\u201d 396\n\n \u201c\u2018Esther is gone!\u2019 was her answer,\u201d 424\n\n \u201c\u2018Now, my beloved brothers, beloved in the Lord, go forth,\u2019\n said Eleazar,\u201d 452\n\n \u201cTitus rode at the head of his stately company, himself the\n most stately of them all,\u201d 488\n\n \u201cJudea must fall,\u201d 508\n\n \u201cI heard the shouts of the conquerors, and the fall of the\n pillars of the Temple,\u201d 532\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BOOK I]\n\n\n\n\nTARRY THOU TILL I COME\n\n The superior numbers appearing throughout the text refer to\n \u201cExplanatory Notes\u201d in the first pages of the Appendix.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n_Salathiel Doomed to Immortality_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Feels Remorse]\n\n\u201cTarry thou till I come.\u201d[1] The words shot through me\u2014I felt them like\nan arrow in my heart\u2014my brain whirled\u2014my eyes grew dim. The troops, the\npriests, the populace, the world, passed away from before my senses like\nphantoms.\n\nBut my mind had a horrible clearness. As if the veil that separates the\nvisible and invisible worlds had been rent in sunder, I saw shapes and\nsigns for which mortal language has no name. The whole expanse of the\nfuture spread under my mental gaze. A preternatural light, a new power of\nmind, seemed to have been poured into my being; I saw at once the full\nguilt of my crime\u2014the fierce folly\u2014the mad ingratitude\u2014the desperate\nprofanation. I lived over again in frightful distinctness every act and\ninstant of the night of my unspeakable sacrilege. I saw, as if written\nwith a sunbeam, the countless injuries that in the rage of bigotry I had\naccumulated upon the victim; the bitter mockeries that I had devised;\nthe cruel tauntings that my lips had taught the rabble; the pitiless\nmalignity that had forbidden them to discover a trace of virtue where all\nvirtue was. The blows of the scourge still sounded in my ears. Every drop\nof the innocent blood rose up in judgment against me.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Former Triumph]\n\nAccursed be the night in which I fell before the tempter! Blotted\nout from time and eternity be the hour in which I took part with the\ntorturers! Every fiber of my frame quivers, every drop of my blood\ncurdles, as I still hear the echo of the anathema, that on the night\nof wo sprang first from my lips, \u201cHIS BLOOD BE UPON US, AND UPON OUR\nCHILDREN!\u201d\n\nI had headed the multitude; where others shrank, I urged; where others\npitied, I reviled; I scoffed at the feeble malice of the priesthood; I\nscoffed at the tardy cruelty of the Roman; I swept away by menace and by\nscorn the human reluctance of the few who dreaded to dip their hands in\nblood. Thinking to do God service, and substituting my passions for my\nGod, I threw firebrands on the hearts of a rash, jealous, and bigoted\npeople\u2014I triumphed!\n\nIn a deed which ought to have covered earth with lamentation, which was\nto make angels weep, which might have shaken the universe into dust,\nI triumphed! The decree was passed; but my frenzy was not so to be\nsatiated. I loathed the light while the victim lived. Under the charge of\n\u201ctreason to C\u00e6sar,\u201d I demanded instant execution of the sentence.\u2014\u201cNot\na day of life must be given,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cnot an hour;\u2014death, on the\ninstant; death!\u201d My clamor was echoed by the roar of millions.\n\nBut in the moment of my exultation I was stricken. He who had refused\nan hour of life to the victim was, in terrible retribution, condemned\nto know the misery of life interminable. I heard through all the voices\nof Jerusalem\u2014I should have heard through all the thunders of heaven\u2014the\ncalm, low voice, \u201cTarry thou till I come!\u201d\n\nI felt my fate at once! I sprang away through the shouting hosts as if\nthe avenging angel waved his sword above my head. Wild songs, furious\nexecrations, the uproar of myriads stirred to the heights of passion,\nfilled the air; still, through all, I heard the pursuing sentence, \u201cTarry\nthou till I come,\u201d and felt it to be the sentence of incurable agony! I\nwas never to know the shelter of the grave!\n\n[Sidenote: A Ceaseless Wanderer]\n\nImmortality on Earth!\u2014The compulsion of perpetual existence in a world\nmade for change; to feel thousands of years bowing down my wretched\nhead; alienated from all the hopes, enjoyments, and pursuits of man,\nto bear the heaviness of that existence which palls even with all the\nstimulants of the most vivid career of man; life passionless, exhausted,\nmelancholy, old. I was to be a wild beast; and a wild beast condemned to\npace the same eternal cage! A criminal bound to the floor of his dungeon\nforever! I would rather have been blown about on the storms of every\nregion of the universe.\n\nImmortality on Earth!\u2014I was still in the vigor of life; but must it be\nalways so? Must not pain, feebleness, the loss of mind, the sad decay\nof all the resources of the human being, be the natural result of time?\nMight I not sink into the perpetual sick-bed, hopeless decrepitude, pain\nwithout cure or relaxation, the extremities of famine, of disease, of\nmadness?\u2014yet this was to be borne for ages of ages!\n\nImmortality on Earth!\u2014Separation from all that cheers and ennobles life.\nI was to survive my country; to see the soil dear to my heart violated by\nthe feet of barbarians yet unborn, her sacred monuments, her trophies,\nher tombs, a scoff and a spoil. Without a resting-spot for the soles of\nmy feet, I was to witness the slave, the man of blood, the savage of the\ndesert, the furious infidel, rioting in my inheritance, digging up the\nbones of my fathers, trampling on the holy ruins of Jerusalem!\n\nImmortality on Earth!\u2014I was to feel the still keener misery of surviving\nall whom I loved; wife, child, friend, even to the last being with whom\nmy heart could imagine a human bond; all that bore a drop of my blood in\ntheir veins were to perish in my sight, and I was to stand on the verge\nof the perpetual grave, without the power to sink into its refuge. If new\naffections could ever wind their way into my frozen bosom, it must be\nonly to fill it with new sorrows; for those I loved must still be torn\nfrom me.\u2014In the world I must remain, and remain alone!\n\nImmortality on Earth!\u2014The grave that closes on the sinner, closes on\nhis sin. His weight of offense is fixed. No new guilt can gather on him\nthere. But I was to know no limit to the weight that was already crushing\nme. The guilt of life upon life, the surges of an unfathomable ocean of\ncrime, were to roll in eternal progress over my head. If the judgment of\nthe great day was terrible to him who had passed but through the common\nmeasure of existence, what must be its terrors to the wretch who was to\nappear loaded with the accumulated guilt of a thousand lives!\n\n[Sidenote: He Passes through Jerusalem]\n\nOverwhelmed with despair, I rushed through Jerusalem, with scarcely a\nconsciousness of whither I was going. It was the time of the Passover,\nwhen the city was crowded with the multitude come to the great festival\nof the year. I felt an instinctive horror of the human countenance, and\nshunned every avenue by which the tribes came in. I at last found myself\nat the Gate of Zion, that leads southward into the open country. I had\nthen no eyes for that wondrous portal which had exhausted the skill of\nthe most famous Ionian sculptors, the master-work of Herod the Great.\nBut I vainly tried to force my way through the crowds that lingered on\ntheir march to gaze upon its matchless beauty; portal alone worthy of the\nwonders to which it led, like the glory of an evening cloud opening to\nlead the eye upward to the stars.\n\nOn those days the Roman guard was withdrawn from the battlements,\nwhich I ascended to seek another escape; but the concourse, gathered\nthere to look upon the entrance of the tribes, fixed me to the spot.\nOf all the strange and magnificent sights of earth, this entrance was\nthe most fitted to swell the national pride of country and religion.\nThe dispersion, ordained by Heaven for judgment on the crimes of our\nidolatrous kings, had, through that wonder-working power by which good is\nbrought out of evil, planted our law in the remotest extremities of the\nworld. Among its proselytes were the mighty of all regions, the military\nleaders, the sages, the kings; all, at least once in their lives, coming\nto pay homage to the great central city of the faith; and all coming\nwith the pomp and attendance of their rank. The procession amounted to a\nnumber which threw after-times into the shade. Three millions of people\nhave been counted at the Passover.\n\nThe diversities of the multitude were not less striking. Every race of\nmankind, in its most marked peculiarities, there passed beneath the eye.\nThere came the long train of swarthy slaves and menials round the chariot\nof the Indian prince, clothed in the silks and jewels of regions beyond\nthe Ganges. Upon them pressed the troop of African lion-hunters, half\nnaked, but with their black limbs wreathed with pearl and fragments\nof unwrought gold. Behind them, on camels, moved patriarchal groups,\nthe Arab sheik, a venerable figure with his white locks flowing from\nbeneath his turban, leading his sons, like our father Abraham, from the\nwilderness to the Mount of Vision. Then rolled on the glittering chariot\nof the Assyrian chieftain, a regal show of purple and gems, convoyed by\nhorsemen covered with steel. The Scythian Jews, wrapped in the furs of\nwolf and bear, iron men of the North; the noble Greek, the perfection\nof the human form, with his countenance beaming the genius and beauty\nof his country; the broad and yellow features of the Chinese rabbins;\nthe fair skins and gigantic forms of the German tribes; strange clusters\nof men unknown to the limits of Europe or Asia, with their black locks,\ncomplexions of the color of gold, and slight yet sinewy limbs, marked\nwith figures of suns and stars struck into the flesh; all marched crowd\non crowd; and in strong contrast with them, the Italian on the charger\nor in the chariot, urging the living stream to the right and left, with\nthe haughtiness of the acknowledged master of mankind. The representative\nworld was before me. But all those distinctive marks of country and\ncondition, though palpably ineradicable by human means, were overpowered\nand mingled by the one grand impression of the place and the time. In\ntheir presence was the City of Holiness; the Hill of Zion lifted up its\npalaces; above them ascended, like another city in a higher region of the\nair, that TEMPLE to whose majesty the world could show no equal, to which\nthe eyes of the believer were turned from the uttermost parts of the\nearth, in whose courts Solomon, the king of earthly kings for wisdom, had\ncalled down the blessing of the Most High, and it had descended on the\naltar in fire; in whose sanctuary the King whom heaven and the heaven of\nheavens can not contain was to make His future throne, and give glory to\nHis people.\n\n[Sidenote: And Comes upon a Scene Magnificent]\n\nO Jerusalem, Jerusalem! when I think of what I saw thee then, and of what\nI have since seen thee\u2014the spoiled, the desolate, the utterly put to\nshame; when I have seen the Roman plow driven through the soil on which\nstood the Holy of Holies; the Saracen destroying even its ruins; the\nlast, worst devastator, the barbarian of the Tatar desert, sitting in\ngrim scorn upon the ramparts of the city of David; violating the tombs of\nthe prophet and the king; turning up for plunder the soil, every blade of\nwhose grass, every atom of whose dust, was sacred to the broken heart of\nIsrael; trampling with savage cruelty my countrymen that lingered among\nits walls only that they might seek a grave in the ashes of the mighty,\u2014I\nhave felt my spirit maddened within me. I have made impious wishes; I\nhave longed for the lightning to blast the tyrant. I still start from my\nbed when I hear the whirlwind, and send forth fierce prayers that its\nrage may be poured on the tents of the oppressor. I unconsciously tear\naway my white locks, and scatter them in bitterness of soul toward the\nEast. In the wildness of the moment I have imagined every cloud that\nsailed along the night a minister of the descending vengeance. I have\nseen it a throne of terrible shapes flying on the wings of the wind,\nmajestic spirits and kings of wrath hurrying through the heavens to pour\ndown sulfurous hail and fire, as upon the cities of the Dead Sea. I have\ncried out with our prophet, as the vision swept along, \u201cWho is he that\ncometh from Edom? with dyed garments from Bozra? he that is glorious in\nhis apparel, traveling in the greatness of his strength! Wherefore art\nthou red in thine apparel, and thy garments like him that treadeth the\nwinepress?\u201d and I have thought that I heard the answer: \u201cI, that speak\nin righteousness, mighty to save! I will tread them in mine anger, and\ntrample them in my fury, and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my\ngarments, and I will stain all my raiment; for the day of vengeance is in\nmine heart, and the year of my redeemed is come!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Bemoans Jerusalem\u2019s Desecration]\n\nThen, when the impulse passed away, my eyes have turned into fountains of\ntears, and I have wept until morning came, and the sounds of the world\ncalled back its recollections; and for the sacred hills and valleys that\nI had imagined in the darkness I saw only the roofs of some melancholy\ncity, in which I was a forlorn fugitive; or a wilderness, with but the\nburning sands and the robber before me; or found myself tossing on the\nocean, not more fruitless than my heart, nor more restless than my life,\nnor more unfathomable than my we. Yet to the last will I hope and love. O\nJerusalem, Jerusalem! even in my mirth, if I forget thee!\n\n[Sidenote: Beyond the City\u2019s Gate]\n\nBut those were the thoughts of after-times. On that memorable and\ndreadful day I had no perception but of some undefinable fate which was\nto banish me from mankind. I at length forced my way through the pressure\nat the gate, turned to none of the kinsmen who called to me as I passed\ntheir chariots and horses, overthrew with desperate and sudden strength\nall who impeded my progress, and scarcely felt the ground till I had left\nthe city behind, and had climbed, through rocks and ruins, the mountain\nthat rose drearily before me, like a barrier shutting out the living\nworld.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n_An Awakening and a Summons_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Dream]\n\nTerror had exhausted me; and throwing myself on the ground, under the\nshade of the palm-trees that crowned the summit of the hill, I fell\ninto an almost instant slumber. But it was unrefreshing and disturbed.\nThe events of the day again came before me, strangely mingled with\nthose of my past life, and with others of which I could form no waking\nremembrance. I saw myself sometimes debased below man, like the great\nAssyrian king, driven out to feed upon the herb of the forest, and\nwandering for years exposed to the scorching sun by day and the dews that\nsank chilling upon my naked frame by night; I then seemed filled with\nsupernatural power, and rose on wings till earth was diminished beneath\nme, and I felt myself fearfully alone. Still, there was one predominant\nsensation: that all this was for punishment, and that it was to be\nperpetual. At length, in one of my imaginary flights, I found myself\nwhirled on the wind, like a swimmer down a cataract, in helpless terror\ninto the bosom of a thunder-cloud. I felt the weight of the rolling\nvapors round me; I saw the blaze; I was stunned by a roar that shook the\nfirmament.\n\n[Sidenote: On the Mount of Corruption]\n\nMy eyes suddenly opened, yet my dream appeared only to be realized by\nmy waking. Thick clouds of heavy and heated vapor were rapidly rolling\nup from the precipices below; and at intervals a sound that I could not\ndistinguish from distant thunder burst on the wind. But the sun was\nbright, and the horizon was the dazzling blue of the eastern heaven. As\nmy senses slowly returned, for I felt like a man overpowered with wine,\nI was enabled to discover where I was. The discovery itself was terror.\nI had in my distraction fled to the mountain on which no Jew ever looked\nwithout shame and sorrow for the crimes of the greatest king into whose\nnostrils the Almighty ever poured the spirit of life, but which a Jewish\npriest, as I was, could not touch without being guilty of defilement.\nI sat on the Mount of Corruption,[2] so-called from its having once\nwitnessed the idolatries of our mighty Solomon, when, in his old age, he\ngave way to the persuasions of his heathen wives\u2014that irreparable crime\nfor which the kingdom was rent, and the strength of Israel scattered. I\nsaw in the hollows of the hill the spaces, still bearing the marks of\nburning, and barren forever, on which the temples of Moloch, Chemosh,\nand Ashtaroth had stood in sight of the House of the living God. The\nvery palm-trees under which I had snatched that wild and bitter sleep\nwere the remnant of the groves in which the foul rites of the goddesses\nof Phenicia and Assyria once filled the air with midnight abomination,\nand horrid yells of human sacrifice, almost made more fearful by the\nroar of barbarian revel, the wild dissonance of timbrel and horn, the\nbacchanalian chorus of the priesthood and people of impurity.\n\nThe vapors that rose hot and sickly before me were the smokes from the\nfires kindled in the valley of Hinnom; where the refuse of the animals\nslaughtered for the use of the city, and the other pollutions and\nremnants of things abominable to the Jew, were daily burned. The sullen\nand perpetual fires, the deadly fumes, and the aspects of the beings,\nchiefly public criminals, who were employed in this hideous task, gave\nthe idea of the place of final evil. Our prophets, in their threats\nagainst the national betrayers, against the proud and the self-willed,\nthe polluted with idols, and the polluted with that still darker and\nmore incurable idolatry, the worship of the world, pointed to the valley\nof Hinnom! The Pharisee, when he denounced the unbelief and luxury of\nthe lordly Sadducee, pointed to the valley of Hinnom! All\u2014the Pharisee,\nthe Essene, the Sadducee, in the haughty spirit that forgot the fallen\nstate of Jerusalem, and the crimes that had lowered her; the hypocrite,\nthe bigot, and the skeptic, alike mad with hopeless revenge, when they\nsaw the Roman cohorts triumphing with their idolatrous ensigns through\nthe paths once trod by the holy, or were driven aside by the torrent\nof cavalry, and the gilded chariot on which sat some insolent proconsul\nfresh from Italy,\u2014pointed to the valley of Hinnom! How often, as the days\nof Jerusalem hurried toward their end and by some fatality the violences\nof the Roman governors became more frequent and intolerable, have I seen\nthe groups of my countrymen, hunted into some byway of the city by the\nhoofs of the Roman horse, consuming with that inward wrath which was\nsoon to flame out in such horrors, flinging up their wild hands, as if\nto upbraid the tardy heavens, gnashing their teeth, and with the strong\ncontortions of the Oriental countenance, and lip scarcely audible from\nthe force of its own convulsion, muttering conspiracy. Or, in despair of\nshaking off that chain which had bound the whole earth, how often have I\nseen them appealing to the endless future, and shrouding their heads in\ntheir cloaks, like sorcerers summoning up demons, each with his quivering\nhand stretched out toward the accursed valley, and every tongue groaning\n\u201cHinnom!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Call to Duty]\n\nWhile I lay upon the summit of the mountain, in a state which gave me\nthe deepest impression of the parting of soul and body, I was startled\nby the sound of a trumpet. It was from the Temple, which, as the fires\nbelow sank with the growing heat of the day, was now visible to me. The\ntrumpet was the signal of the third hour, when the first daily sacrifice\nwas to be offered. It was the week of the class of Abiah, of which I was,\nand this day\u2019s service fell to me. Though I would have given all that I\npossessed on earth to be allowed to rest upon that spot, polluted as it\nwas, and there molder away into the dust and ashes that I had made my\nbed, I dared not shrink from that most solemn duty of the priesthood.\n\nI rose, but it was not until after many efforts that I was able to stand.\nI struggled along the summit of the ridge, holding by the stems of the\npalm-trees. The second trumpet sounded loudly, and was reechoed by the\ncliffs. I had now no time for delay, and was about to spring downward\ntoward a path which wound round the head of the valley and beyond the\nfires, when my ears were again arrested by the peal that had disturbed\nme in my sleep, and my glance, which commanded the whole circuit of the\nhills round Jerusalem, involuntarily looked for the thunder-cloud. The\nsky was without a stain; but the eminences toward the west, on whose\nlovely slopes of vineyard, rose, and orange grove my eye had so often\nreposed as on a vast Tyrian carpet tissued with purple and gold, were\nhung with gloom; a huge and sullen cloud seemed to be gathering over the\nheights, and flashes and gleams of malignant luster burst from its bosom.\nThe cloud deepened, and the distant murmur grew louder and more continued.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Returns to His Home]\n\nI hurried to the city gate. To my astonishment, I found the road, that I\nhad left, so choked up with the multitude, almost empty. The camels stood\ntethered in long trains under the trees, with scarcely an owner. The\ntents were deserted except by children and the few old persons necessary\nfor their care. The mules and horses grazed through the fields without\na keeper. I saw tents full of the animals and other offerings that the\ntribes brought up to the great feast, almost at the mercy of any hand\nthat would take them away. Where could the myriads have disappeared which\nhad covered the land a few hours before to the horizon?\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Hears Familiar Sounds]\n\nThe city was still more a subject of astonishment. A panic might have\ndriven away the concourse of strangers, at a time when the violences\nof the Roman sword had given every Jew but too frequent cause for the\nmost sensitive alarm. But all within the gate was equally deserted. The\nstreets were utterly stripped of the regular inhabitants. The Roman\nsentinels were almost the only beings whom I could discover in my passage\nof the long avenue, from the foot of the upper city to the Mount of the\nTemple. All this was favorable to my extreme anxiety to escape every eye\nof my countrymen; yet I can not tell with what a throbbing of heart, and\nvariety of feverish emotion, I at length reached the threshold of my\ndwelling. Though young, I was a husband and father. What might not have\nhappened since the sunset of the evening before? for my evil doings\u2014for\nwhich may He, with whom mercy lies at the right hand and judgment at the\nleft, have mercy on me\u2014had fatally occupied the night. I listened at the\ndoor, with my heart upon my lips. I dared not open it. My suspense was\nat length relieved by my wife\u2019s voice; she was weeping. I fell on my\nknees, and thanked Heaven that she was alive.\n\nBut my infant! I thought of the sword that smote the first-born in the\nland of bondage, and felt that Judah, guilty as Egypt, might well dread\nits punishment. Was it for my first-born that the sobs of its angel\nmother had arisen in her loneliness? Another pause of bitter suspense\u2014and\nI heard the laugh of my babe as it awoke in her arms. The first human\nsensation that I had felt for so many hours was almost overpowering; and\nwithout regarding the squalidness of my dress, and the look of famine\nand fatigue that must have betrayed where I had been, I should have\nrushed into the chamber. But at that moment the third trumpet sounded. I\nhad now no time for the things of this world. I plunged into the bath,\ncleansed myself from the pollution of the mountain, hastily girt on me\nthe sacerdotal tunic and girdle; and with the sacred fillet on my burning\nbrow, and the censer in my shaking hand, passed through the cloisters and\ntook my place before the altar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n_Salathiel\u2019s Resolution in the Temple_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Before the Temple]\n\nOf all the labors of human wealth and power devoted to worship, the\nTemple within whose courts I then stood was the most mighty. In the\nyears of my unhappy wanderings, far from the graves of my kindred, I\nhave seen all the most famous shrines of the great kingdoms of idolatry.\nConstrained by cruel circumstance, and the still sterner cruelty of man,\nI have stood before the altar of the Ephesian Diana, the masterpiece of\nIonian splendor; I have strayed through the woods of Delphi, and been\nmade a reluctant witness of the superb mysteries of that chief of the\noracles of imposture. Dragged in chains, I have been forced to join the\nprocession round the Minerva of the Acropolis, and almost forgot my\nchains in wonder at that monument of a genius which ought to have been\nconsecrated only to the true God, by whom it was given. The temple of\nthe Capitoline Jove, the Sancta Sophia of the Rome of Constantine, the\nstill more stupendous fabric in which the third Rome still bows before\nthe fisherman of Galilee\u2014all have been known to my step, that knows all\nthings but rest; but all were dreams and shadows to the grandeur, the\ndazzling beauty, the almost unearthly glory, of that Temple which once\ncovered the \u201cMount of Vision\u201d of the City of JEHOVAH.\n\nAt the distance of almost two thousand years, I have its image on my\nmind\u2019s eye with living and painful fulness. I see the court of the\nGentiles circling the whole; a fortress of the purest marble, with its\nwall rising six hundred feet from the valley; its kingly entrance, worthy\nof the fame of Solomon; its innumerable and stately buildings for the\npriests and officers of the Temple, and above them, glittering like a\nsuccession of diadems, those alabaster porticoes and colonnades in which\nthe chiefs and sages of Jerusalem sat teaching the people, or walked,\nbreathing the pure air, and gazing on the grandeur of a landscape which\nswept the whole amphitheater of the mountains. I see, rising above this\nstupendous boundary, the court of the Jewish women separated by its\nporphyry pillars and richly sculptured wall; above this, the separated\ncourt of the men; still higher, the court of the priests; and highest,\nthe crowning splendor of all, the central TEMPLE,[3] the place of the\nSanctuary and of the Holy of Holies, covered with plates of gold, its\nroof planted with lofty spear-heads of gold, the most precious marbles\nand metals everywhere flashing back the day, till Mount Moriah stood\nforth to the eye of the stranger approaching Jerusalem what it had been\nso often described by its bards and people, \u201ca mountain of snow studded\nwith jewels.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: An Interruption]\n\nThe grandeur of the worship was worthy of this glory of architecture.\nFour-and-twenty thousand Levites ministered by turns\u2014a thousand at a\ntime. Four thousand more performed the lower offices. Four thousand\nsingers and minstrels, with the harp, the trumpet, and all the richest\ninstruments of a land whose native genius was music, and whose climate\nand landscape led men instinctively to delight in the charm of sound,\nchanted the inspired songs of our warrior king, and filled up the pauses\nof prayer with harmonies that transported the spirit beyond the cares and\npassions of a troubled world.\n\nI was standing before the altar of burnt-offerings, with the Levite at\nmy side holding the lamb; the cup was in my hand, and I was about to\npour the wine on the victim, when I was startled by the sound of hurried\nfeet. In another moment the gate of the court was abruptly thrown back,\nand a figure rushed in; it was the High Priest,[4] but not in the robes\nof ceremony which it was customary for him to wear in the seasons of\nthe greater festivals. He was covered with the common vesture of the\npriesthood, and was evidently anxious to use it for total concealment.\nHis face was buried in the folds of his cloak, and he walked with blind\nprecipitation toward the sanctuary. But he had scarcely reached it when\na new feeling stopped him, and he turned to the altar, where I was\nstanding in mute surprise. The cloak fell from his visage; it was pale\nas death; the habitual sternness of feature which rendered him a terror\nto the people had collapsed into feebleness; and while he gazed on the\nflame, I thought I saw the glistening of a tear on a cheek that had\nnever exhibited human emotion before. But no time was left for question,\neven if reverence had not restrained me. He suddenly grasped the head\nof the lamb, as was customary for those who offered up an expiation for\ntheir own sins; his lip, ashy white, quivered with broken prayer; then,\nsnatching the knife from the Levite, he plunged it into the animal\u2019s\nthroat, and with his hands covered with blood, and with a groan that\nsounded despair, again rushed distractedly to the porch of the Holy\nHouse, flung aside in fierce irreverence the veil of the sanctuary, and\ndarted in.\n\n[Sidenote: The High Priest in Terror]\n\nThere was a subterranean passage from the interior of the sanctuary to\nthe High Priest\u2019s cloister, through which I conceived that he had gone.\nBut, on passing near the porch, at the close of the sacrifice, I heard a\ncry of agony from within that penetrated my soul.\n\nI had never loved the head of our priesthood. He was a haughty and\nhard-hearted man; insolent in his office, which he had obtained by no\nunsuspicious means, and a ready tool alike of the popular caprice and of\nthe tyranny of our foreign masters. But he was a man; was a man of my own\norder; and was it for one like me to triumph over even the most abject\ncriminal of earth? I ascended the steps of the porch, and, with a sinking\nheart and trembling hand, entered the sanctuary.\n\nBut\u2014what I saw there I have no power to tell! To this moment the\nrecollection overwhelms my senses. Words were not made to utter it. The\near of man was not made to hear it. Before me moved things mightier than\nof mortal vision, thronging shapes of terror, mysterious grandeurs,\nessential power, embodied prophecy! The Veil was rent in twain! How could\nman behold and live! When I lifted my face from the ground again, I saw\nbut the High Priest. He was kneeling, with his hands clasped upon his\neyes; his lips strained wide, as if laboring to utter a voice; and his\nwhole frame rigid and cold as a corpse. I vainly spoke, and attempted to\nrouse him; terror, or more than terror, had benumbed his powers; and,\nunwilling to suffer him to be seen in this extremity, I bore him in my\narms to the subterranean.\n\n[Sidenote: An Attack by the Romans]\n\nBut a tumult, of which I could scarcely conjecture the cause, checked me.\nThe trampling of multitudes, and cries of fury and fear, echoed round\nthe Temple; and in the sudden apprehension, the first and most fearful\nto the priest of Judah, that the Romans were about to commence their\noften-threatened plunder, I laid down my unhappy burden beside the door\nof the passage and returned to defend, or die with, our perishing glory.\nThe sanctuary in which I stood was wholly lighted by the lamps round its\nwalls. But when, at length, unable to suppress my alarm at the growing\nuproar, I went to the porch, I left comparative day behind me; a gloom\ndeeper than that of tempest and sicklier than that of smoke overspread\nthe sky. The sun, which I had seen like a fiery buckler hanging over the\ncity, was utterly gone. Even while I looked the darkness deepened, and\nthe blackness of night, of night without a star, fell far and fearful\nupon the horizon.\n\nIt has been my fate, and an intense part of my punishment, always to\nconceive that the calamities of nature and nations were connected with my\ncrime.[5] I have tried to reason away this impression, but it has clung\nto me like an iron chain; nothing could tear it away that left the life;\nI have felt it hanging over my brain with the weight of a thunder-cloud.\nAs I glanced into the gloom, the thought smote me that it was I who had\nbrought this Egyptian plague, this horrid privation of the first element\nof life, upon my country, perhaps upon the world, perhaps never to be\nrelieved; for it came condensing, depth on depth, till it seemed to have\nexcluded all possibility of the existence of light; it was, like that\nof our old oppressors, darkness that might be felt, the darkness of a\nuniversal grave.\n\nI formed my fierce determination at once, and resolved to fly from my\npriesthood, from my kindred, from my country; to linger out my days\u2014my\nbitter, banished days\u2014in some wilderness, where my presence would not be\na curse, where but the lion and the tiger should be my fellow dwellers,\nwhere the sands could not be made the more barren for my fatal tread,\nnor the fountains more bitter for my desperate and eternal tears. The\nsingular presence of mind found in some men in the midst of universal\nperturbation\u2014one of the most effective qualities of our nature, and\nattributed to the highest vigor of heart and understanding\u2014is not always\ndeserving of such proud parentage. It is sometimes the child of mere\nbrute ignorance of danger, sometimes of habitual ferocity; in my instance\nit was that of madness\u2014the fierce energy that leads the maniac safe over\nroofs and battlements. All in the Temple was confusion. The priests\nlay flung at the feet of the altar; or, clinging together in groups of\nhelplessness and dismay, waited speechless for the ruin that was to visit\nthem in this unnatural night. I walked through all, without a fear or a\nhope under heaven.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Midst of Confusion]\n\nThrough the solid gloom, and among heaps of men and sacred things cast\nunder my feet, like the spoil of some stormed camp, I made my way to\nmy dwelling, direct and unimpeded, as if I walked in the light of day.\nI found my wife in deeper terror at my long absence than even at the\ndarkness. She sprang forward at my voice, and, falling on my neck, shed\nthe tears of joy and love. But few words passed between us, for but few\nwere necessary, to bid her with her babe to follow me. She would have\nfollowed me to the ends of the earth.\n\nO Miriam, Miriam! how often have I thought of thee, in my long\npilgrimage! How often, like that of a spirit descended to minister\nconsolation to the wanderer, have I seen, in my midnight watching, thy\ncountenance of more than woman\u2019s beauty! To me thou hast never died.\nThy more than man\u2019s loftiness of soul; thy generous fidelity of love\nto a wayward and unhappy heart; thy patient treading with me along the\npath that I had sowed with the thorn and thistle for thy feet, but which\nshould have been covered with the wealth of princes, to be worthy of thy\nloveliness and thy virtue\u2014all rise in memory, and condemnation, before\nthe chief of sinners. Age after age have I traveled to thy lonely\ngrave; age after age have I wept and prayed upon the dust that was once\nperfection. In all the hardness forced upon me by a stern world; in\nall the hatred of mankind that the insolence of the barbarian and the\npersecutor has bound round my bosom like a mail of iron, I have preserved\none source of feeling sacred\u2014a solitary fount to feed the little\nvegetation of a withered heart: the love of thee; perhaps to be a sign of\nthat regenerate time when the curse shall be withdrawn; perhaps to be in\nmercy the source from which that more than desert, thy husband\u2019s soul,\nshall be refreshed, and the barrenness nourish with the flowers of the\nparadise of God!\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel and Miriam]\n\nThrowing off my robe of priesthood, as I then thought, forever, I went\nforth, followed by my heroic wife and bearing my child in my arms. I had\nleft behind me sumptuous things, wealth transmitted from a long line of\nillustrious ancestry. I cared not for them. Wealth a thousand times more\nprecious was within my embrace. Yet, when I touched the threshold, the\nlast sensation of divorce from all that I had been came over my mind. My\nwife felt the trembling of my frame, and, with a gentle firmness which\nin the hour of trouble often exalts the fortitude of woman above the\nheadlong and inflamed courage of the warrior, she bade me be of good\ncheer. I felt her lips on my hand at the moment\u2014the touch gave new energy\nto my whole being\u2014and I bounded forward into the ocean of darkness.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cAll in the Temple was confusion.\u201d\n\n [_see page 19._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: A Scene of Disaster]\n\nWithout impediment or error, I made my way over and among the crowds\nthat strewed the court of the Gentiles. I heard many a prayer and\nmany a groan; but I had now no more to do with man, and forced my way\nsteadily to the great portal. Thus far, if I had been stricken with\nutter blindness, I could not have been less guided by the eye. But, on\npassing into the streets of the lower city, a scattered torch, from time\nto time, struggling through the darkness, like the lamp in a sepulcher,\ngave me glimpses of the scene. The broad avenue was encumbered with\nthe living, in the semblance of the dead. All were prostrated or were\nin those attitudes into which men are thrown by terror beyond the\nstrength or spirit of man to resist. The cloud that, from my melancholy\nbed above the valley of Hinnom, I had seen rolling up the hills, was\nthis multitude. A spectacle had drawn them all by a cruel, a frantic,\ncuriosity out of Jerusalem, and left it the solitude that had surprised\nme. Preternatural eclipse and horror fell on them, and their thousands\nmadly rushed back to perish, if perish they must, within the walls of\nthe City of Holiness. Still the multitude came pouring in; their distant\ntrampling had the sound of a cataract, and their outcries of pain, and\nrage, and terror were like what I have since heard, but more feebly, sent\nup from the field of battle.\n\nI struggled on, avoiding the living torrent, and slowly treading my\nway wherever I heard the voices least numerous; but my task was one of\nextreme toil, and but for those more than the treasures of the earth to\nme, whose lives depended on my efforts, I should willingly have lain down\nand suffered the multitude to trample me into the grave. How long I thus\nstruggled I know not. But a yell of peculiar and universal terror that\nburst round me made me turn my reluctant eyes toward Jerusalem. The cause\nof this new alarm was seen at once.\n\nA large sphere of fire fiercely shot through the heavens, lighting\nits track down the murky air, and casting a disastrous and pallid\nillumination on the myriads of gazers below. It stopped above the city\nand exploded in thunder, flashing over the whole horizon, but covering\nthe Temple with a blaze which gave it the aspect of a huge mass of metal\nglowing in the furnace. Every outline of the architecture, every pillar,\nevery pinnacle, was seen with a livid and terrible distinctness. Again,\nall vanished. I heard the hollow roar of an earthquake; the ground rose\nand heaved under our feet. I heard the crash of buildings, the fall\nof fragments of the hills, and, louder than both, the groan of the\nmultitude. I caught my wife and child closer to my bosom. In the next\nmoment I felt the ground give way beneath me, a sulfurous vapor took away\nmy breath, and I was swept into the air in a whirlwind of dust and ashes!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n_Salathiel Journeys Far from Jerusalem_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Returns to Consciousness]\n\nWhen I recovered my senses, all was so much changed round me that I\ncould scarcely be persuaded that either the past or the present was not\na dream. I had no consciousness of any interval between them, more than\nthat of having closed my eyes at one instant, to open them at the next.\nYet the curtains of a tent waved round me, in a breeze fragrant with the\nbreath of roses and balsam-trees. Beyond the gardens and meadows, from\nwhich those odors sprang, a river shone, like a path of lapis lazuli, in\nthe calm effulgence of the western sun. Tents were pitched, from which\nI heard the sounds of pastoral instruments; camels were drinking and\ngrazing along the riverside; and turbaned men and maidens were ranging\nover the fields, or sitting on the banks to enjoy the cool of the\ndelicious evening.\n\nWhile I tried to collect my senses and discover whether this was more\nthan one of those sports of a wayward fancy which tantalize the bed\nof the sick mind, I heard a low hymn, and listened to the sounds with\nbreathless anxiety. The voice I knew at once\u2014it was Miriam\u2019s. But in the\ndisorder of my brain, and the strange circumstances which had filled the\nlatter days, in that total feebleness too in which I could not move a\nlimb or utter a word, a persuasion seized me that I was already beyond\nthe final boundary of mortals. All before me was like that paradise from\nwhich the crime of our great forefather had driven man into banishment.\nI remembered the convulsion of the earth in which I had sunk, and asked\nmyself, Could man be wrapped in flame and the whirlwind that tore up\nmountains like the roots of flowers, and yet live?\n\n[Sidenote: And Learns of His Narrow Escape]\n\nIn this perplexity I closed my eyes to collect my thoughts, and probably\nexhibited some strong emotion of countenance, for I was roused by a cry:\n\u201cHe lives! He lives!\u201d I looked up\u2014Miriam stood before me, clasping her\nlovely hands with the wildness of joy unspeakable, and shedding tears\nthat, large and lustrous, fell down her glowing cheeks like dew upon the\npomegranate. She threw herself upon my pillow, kissed my forehead with\nlips that breathed new life into me; then, pressing my chill hand between\nhers, knelt down and with a look worthy of that heaven on which it was\nfixed, radiant with beauty, and holiness, and joy as the face of an\nangel, offered up her thanksgiving.\n\nThe explanation of the scene that perplexed me was given in a few words,\ninterrupted only by tears and sighs of delight. With the burst of the\nearthquake the supernatural darkness had cleared away. I was flung under\nthe shelter of one of those caves which abound in the gorges of the\nmountains round Jerusalem. Miriam and her infant were flung by my side,\nyet unhurt. While I lay insensible in her arms, she, by singular good\nfortune, found herself surrounded by a troop of our kinsmen returning\nfrom the city, where terror had suffered but few to remain. They placed\nher and her infant on their camels. Me they would have consigned to the\nsepulcher of the priests; but Miriam was not to be shaken in her purpose\nto watch over me until all hope was gone. I was thus carried along\u2014and\nthey were now three days on their journey homeward. The landscape before\nme was Samaria.\n\n[Sidenote: The Power of Art]\n\nMy natural destination would have been the cities of the priests[6]\nwhich lay to the south, bordering upon Hebron. In those thirteen opulent\nand noble residences allotted to the higher ministry of the Temple,\nthey enjoyed all that could be offered by the munificent wisdom of the\nstate\u2014wealth that raised them above the pressures of life, yet not so\ngreat as to extinguish the desire of intellectual distinction or the love\nof the loftier virtues. The means of mental cultivation were provided\nfor them with more than royal liberality. Copies of the sacred books,\nmultiplied in every form, and adorned with the finest skill of the pencil\nand the sculptor in gold and other precious materials, attested at once\nthe reverence of the nation for its law, and the perfection to which\nit had brought the decorative arts. The works of strangers eminent for\ngenius or knowledge, or even for the singularity of their subject, were\nnot less to be found in those stately treasure-houses of mind. There the\npriest might relax his spirit from the sublimer studies of his country by\nthe bold and brilliant epics of Greece, the fantastic passion and figured\nbeauty of the Persian poesy, or the alternate severity and sweetness of\nthe Indian drama\u2014that startling union of all lovely images of nature, the\nbloom and fragrance of flowers, the hues of the Oriental heaven, and the\nperfumes of isles of spice and cinnamon, with the grim and subterranean\nterrors of a gigantic idolatry. There he might spread the philosophic\nwing from the glittering creations of Grecian metaphysics, to their dark\nand early oracles in the East; or, stopping in his central flight, plunge\ninto the profound of Egyptian mystery, where science lies, like the\nmummy, wrapped in a thousand folds that preserve the form, but preserve\nit with the living principle gone.\n\nMusic, of all pleasures the most intellectual, that glorious painting\nto the ear, that rich mastery of the gloomier emotions of our nature,\nwas studied by the priesthood with a skill that influenced the habits\nof the country. How often have my fiercest perturbations sunk at the\nsounds that once filled the breezes of Judea! How often, when my brain\nwas burning and the blood ran through my veins like molten brass, have I\nbeen softened down to painless tears by the chorus from our hills, the\nmellow harmonies of harp and horn blending with the voices of the youths\nand maidens of Israel! How often have I in the night listened, while\nthe chant, ascending with a native richness to which the skill of other\nnations was dissonance, floated upward like a cloud of incense, bearing\nthe aspirations of holiness and gratitude to the throne of Him whom man\nhath not seen nor can see!\n\n[Sidenote: The Glory of the Past]\n\nBut those times are sunk deep in the great gulf that absorbs the\nhappiness and genius of man. I have since traversed my country in its\nlength and breadth; I have marked with my weary feet every valley, and\nmade my restless bed upon every hill from Idumea to Lebanon, and from\nthe Assyrian sands to the waters of the Mediterranean; yet the harp and\nvoice were dead. I heard sounds on the hills, but they were the cries of\nthe villagers flying before some tyrant gatherer of a tyrant\u2019s tribute. I\nheard sounds in the midnight, but they were the howl of the wolf and the\nyell of the hyena reveling over the naked and dishonored graves, which\nthe infidel had given, in his scorn, to the people of my fathers.\n\nBut the study to which the largest expenditure of wealth and labor was\ndevoted was, as it ought to be, that of the sacred books of Israel.\nIt only makes me rebellious against the decrees of fate to think of\nthe incomparable richness and immaculate character of the volumes over\nwhich I have so often hung, and look upon the diminished and degraded\nexterior in which their wisdom now lies before man. Where are now the\ncases covered with jewels, the clasps of topaz and diamond; the golden\narks in which the volume of the hope of Israel lay, too precious not to\nbe humiliated by the contact with even the richest treasure of earth?\nWhere are the tissued curtains, which hid, as in a sanctuary, that mighty\nroll, too sacred to be glanced on by the casual eye? But, the spoiler\u2014the\nspoiler! The Arab, the Parthian, the human tiger of the north, that lies\ncrouching for a thousand years in the sheepfold of Judah! Is there not a\nsword? Is there not a judgment? Terribly will it judge the oppressor.\n\nThe home of my kinsmen was in the allotment of Naphtali. The original\ntribe had revolted in the general schism of the kingdoms of Judah and\nIsrael, and was swept into the Assyrian captivity. But on the restoration\nby Cyrus, fragments of all the captive tribes returned and were suffered\nto resume their lands. Misfortune wrought its moral on them; the chief\nfamilies pledged their allegiance once more to Judah, and were exemplary\nin paying homage to the spirit and ordinances of their religion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Alertness of the Roman]\n\nWe hastened through Samaria. The rancorous enmity borne by the Samaritans\nto the subjects of Judah, for ages made all intercourse between Jerusalem\nand the north difficult. It was often totally interrupted by war; it\nwas dangerous in peace, and the ferocious character of the population\nand the bitter antipathy of the government made it to the Jew a land of\nrobbers.[7] But among the evils of the Roman conquest was mingled this\ngood, that it suffered no subordinate tyranny. Its sword cut away at a\nblow all those minor oppressions which make the misery of provincial\nlife. If the mountain robber invaded the plain, as was his custom of old,\nthe Roman cavalry were instantly on him with the spear, until he took\nrefuge in the mountains; if he resisted in his native fastnesses, the\nlegionaries pursued him with torch and sword, stifled him if he remained\nin his cave, or stabbed him at its entrance. If quarrels arose between\nvillages, the cohorts burned them to the ground; and the execution\nwas done with a promptitude and completeness that less resembled the\nordinary operations of war than the work of superhuman power. The Roman\nknowledge of our disturbances was instantaneous. Signals established\non the hills conveyed intelligence with the speed of light, from the\nremotest corners of the land to their principal stations. Even in our\nsubsequent conspiracies, the first knowledge that they had broken out was\noften conveyed to their partizans in the next district by the movement\nof the Roman troops. Well had they chosen the eagle for their ensign.\nThey rushed with the eagle\u2019s rapidity on their victim; and when it was\nstretched in blood they left the spot of vengeance, as if they had left\nit on the wing. Their advance had the rapidity of the most hurried\nretreat and the steadiness of the most secure triumph. Their retreat left\nnothing behind but the marks of their irresistible power.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Passes through Samaria]\n\nAll the armies of the earth have since passed before me. I have seen the\nequals of the legions in courage and discipline, and their superiors in\nthose arms by which human life is at the caprice of ambition. But their\nequals I have never seen, in the individual fitness of the soldier for\nwar; in his fleetness, muscular vigor, and expertness in the use of\nhis weapons; in his quick adaptation to all the multiplied purposes of\nthe ancient campaign\u2014from the digging of a trench or the management of\na catapult to the assault of a citadel; in his iron endurance of the\nvicissitudes of climate; in the length and regularity of his marches;\nor in the rapidity, boldness, and dexterity of his maneuver in the\nfield. Yet it is but a melancholy tribute to the valor of my countrymen\nto record the Roman acknowledgment, that of all the nations conquered\nby Rome Judea bore the chain with the haughtiest dignity, and most\nfrequently and fiercely contested the supremacy of the sword.\n\nUnder that stern supremacy, the Samaritan had long rested and flourished\nin exemption from the harassing cruelty of petty war. We now passed\nwith our long caravan unguarded, and moved at will through fields rich\nwith the luxuriance of an Eastern summer, where our fathers would have\nscarcely ventured but with an army. I made no resistance to being thus\nled away to a region so remote from my own. To have returned to the\ncities of the priests would have but given me unceasing agony. Even the\ngates of Jerusalem were to my feelings anathema. The whole fabric of my\nmind had undergone a revolution. Like a man tossed at the mercy of the\ntempest, I sought but a shore\u2014and all shores were alike to him who must\nbe an exile forever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n_Eleazar Learns of Salathiel\u2019s Renunciation_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Journey Continued]\n\nThe country through which we passed, after leaving the boundaries of\nSamaria\u2014where, with all its peace, no Jew could tread but as in the land\nof strangers\u2014was new to me. My life had been till now spent in study\nor in serving the altar; and I had heard, with the usual and unwise\nindifference of men devoted to books, the praise of the picturesque and\nstately provinces that still remained to our people. I was now to see for\nmyself, and was often compelled, as we advanced, to reproach the idle\nprejudice that had so long deprived me, and might forever deprive so\nmany of my consecrated brethren, of an enjoyment cheering to the human\nheart and full of lofty and hallowed memory to the men of Israel. As we\npassed along, less traveling than wandering at pleasure, through regions\nwhere every winding of the marble hill or descent of the fruitful valley\nshowed us some sudden and romantic beauty of landscape, my kinsmen took\na natural pride in pointing out the noble features that made Canaan a\nliving history of Providence.[8]\n\n[Sidenote: A Prayer in the Valley]\n\nWhat were even the trophy-covered hills of Greece or the monumental\nplains of Italy to the hills and plains where the memorial told of the\nmiracles and the presence of the Supreme? \u201cLook to that rock,\u201d they would\nexclaim; \u201cthere descended the angel of the Presence! On the summit of\nthat cloudy ridge stood Ezekiel, when he saw the vision of the latter\ndays. Look to yonder cleft in the mountains; there fell the lightning\nfrom heaven on the Philistine.\u201d In our travel we reached a valley, a spot\nof singular beauty and seclusion, blushing with flowers and sheeted with\nthe olive from its edge down to a stream that rushed brightly through\nits bosom. There was no dwelling of man in it, but on a gentler slope\nof the declivity stood a gigantic terebinth-tree. More than curiosity\nwas attracted to this delicious spot, for the laughter and talk of the\ncaravan had instantly subsided at the sight. All, by a common impulse,\ndismounted from their horses and camels; and though it was still far from\nsunset, the tents were pitched and preparations made for prayer. The spot\nreminded me of the valley of Hebron, sacred to the Jewish heart as the\nburial-place of Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac. May they sleep in the bosom of\nthe Lord! The terebinth-tree, under which the greatest of the patriarchs\nsat and talked with the angels\u2014the fountain\u2014the cave of Macpelah, in\nwhich his mortal frame returned to the earth, to come again in glory,\nappeared to lie before me.\n\nFrom the day of my unspeakable crime, I had never joined in prayer with\nmy people. Yet, I was still a believer in the faith of Israel. I even\nclung to it with the nervous violence of one who, in a shipwreck, feels\nthat his only hope is the plank in his grasp, and that some more powerful\nhand is tearing even that plank away. But the sight of human beings\nenjoying the placid consolations of prayer had from the first moment\noverwhelmed me with so keen a sense of my misfortune\u2014the pious gentleness\nof attitude and voice, the calm uplifted hand, and low and solemn\naspiration were in so deep a contrast to the involuntary wildness and\nbroken utterings of a heart bound in more than adamantine chains, that I\nshrank from the rebuke and groaned in solitude.\n\n[Sidenote: Eleazar, the Brother of Miriam]\n\nI went forth into the valley, and was soon lost in its thick vegetation.\nThe sound of the hymn that sank down in mingled sweetness with the\nmurmuring of the evening air through the leaves, and the bubbling of\nthe brook below, alone told me that I was near human beings. I sat\nupon a fragment of turf, embroidered as never was kingly footstool and\nwith my hands clasped over my eyes, to remove from me all the images\nof life, gave way to that visionary mood of mind in which ideas come\nand pass in crowds without shape, leaving no more impression than\nthe drops of a sun-shower on the trees. I had remained long in this\nhalf-dreaming confusion, and had almost imagined myself transported to\nsome intermediate realm of being, where a part of the infliction was\nthat of being startled by keen flashes of light from some upper world,\nwhen I was roused by the voice of Eleazar, the brother of Miriam, at my\nside. His manly and generous countenance expressed mingled anxiety and\ngladness at discovering me. \u201cThe whole camp,\u201d said he, \u201chave been alarmed\nat your absence, and have searched for these three hours through every\npart of our day\u2019s journey. Miriam\u2019s distraction at length urged me to\nleave her, and it was by her instinct that I took my way down the only\npath hitherto unsearched, and where, indeed, from fear or reverence of\nthe place, few but myself would have willingly come.\u201d He called to an\nattendant, and, sending him up the side of the valley with the tidings,\nwe followed slowly, for I was still feeble. As we emerged into a more\nopen space, the moon lying on masses of cloud, like a queen pillowed on\ncouches of silver, showed me, in her strong illumination of the forest,\nthe flashes which had added to the bewildered pain of my reverie. While I\ntalked with natural animation of the splendor of the heavens, and pointed\nout the lines and figures on the moon\u2019s disk, which made it probable that\nit was, like earth, a place of habitation, he suddenly pressed my hand,\nand stopping, with his eyes fixed on my face: \u201cHow,\u201d said he, \u201cdoes it\nhappen, my friend, my brother Salathiel?\u201d I started, as if my name, the\nname of my illustrious ancestor, direct in descent from the father of\nthe faithful, were an accusation. He proceeded, with an ardent pressure\nof my quivering hand: \u201cHow is it to be accounted for that you, with such\ncontemplations and the knowledge that gives them the dignity of science,\ncan yet be so habitually given over to gloom? Serious crime I will not\nbelieve in you, though the best of us are stained. But your character is\npure; I know your nature to be too lofty for the degenerate indulgence of\nthe passions, and Miriam\u2019s love for you, a love passing that of women,\nis in itself a seal of virtue. Answer me, Can the wealth, power, or\ninfluence of your brother and his house, nay of his tribe, assist you?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Speaks of Salathiel\u2019s Gloom]\n\nI was silent. He paused, and we walked on a while, without a sound but\nthat of our tread among the leaves; but his mind was full, and it\nwould have way. \u201cSalathiel,\u201d said he, \u201cyou do injustice to yourself,\nto your wife, and to your friends. This gloom that sits eternally on\nyour forehead must wear away all your uses in society; it bathes your\nincomparable wife\u2019s pillow in tears, and it disheartens, nay distresses,\nus all. Answer me as one man of honor and integrity would another. Have\nyou been disappointed in your ambition? I know your claims. You have\nknowledge surpassing that of a multitude of your contemporaries; you\nhave talents that ought to be honored; your character is unimpeached and\nunimpeachable. Such things ought to have already raised you to eminence.\nHave you found yourself thwarted by the common artifice of official life?\nHas some paltry sycophant crept up before you by the oblique path that\nhonor disdains? Or have you felt yourself an excluded and marked man,\nmerely for the display of that manlier vigor, richer genius, and more\ngenerous and sincere impulse of heart which to the conscious inferiority\nof the rabble of understanding is gall and wormwood? Or have you taken\ntoo deeply into your resentment the common criminal negligence that\nbesets common minds in power, and makes them carelessly fling away upon\nincapacity, and guiltily withhold from worth, the rewards which were\nentrusted to them as a sacred deposit for the encouragement of national\nability and personal virtue?\u201d\n\nI strongly disavowed all conceptions of the kind, and assured him that\nI felt neither peculiar merits nor peculiar injuries. \u201cI have seen too\nmuch of what ambition and worldly success were made of, to allow hope\nto excite or failure to depress me. I am even,\u201d added I, \u201cso far from\nbeing the slave of that most vulgar intemperance of a deranged heart, the\ndiseased craving for the miserable indulgences of worldly distinction,\nthat would to Heaven I might never again enter the gates of Jerusalem!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Beside the Tomb of Isaiah]\n\nHe started back in surprise. The confession had been altogether\nunintended, and I looked up to see the burst of Jewish wrath descending\nupon me. I saw none. My kinsman\u2019s fine countenance was brightened with a\nlofty joy. \u201cThen you have renounced. But no, it is yet too soon. At your\nage, with your prospects, can you have renounced the career offered to\nyou among the rulers of Israel?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have renounced.\u201d\n\n\u201cSincerely, solemnly, upon conviction?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom the bottom of my soul, now and forever!\u201d\n\nWe had reached the open space in front of the terebinth-tree that stood\nin majesty, extending its stately branches over a space cleared of all\nother trees, a sovereign of the forest. In silence he led me under the\nshade to a small tomb, on which the light fell with broken luster.\n\u201cThis,\u201d said he, \u201cis the tomb of the greatest prophet on whose lips the\nwisdom of Heaven ever burned. There sleeps Isaiah! There is silent the\nvoice that for fifty years spoke more than the thoughts of man in the\nears of a guilty people. There are cold the hands that struck the harp\nof more than mortal sounds to the glory of Him to whom earth and its\nkingdoms are but as the dust of the balance. There lies the heart which\nneither the desert, nor the dungeon, nor the teeth of the lion, nor the\nsaw of Manasseh, could tame\u2014the denouncer of our crimes\u2014the scourge of\nour apostasy\u2014the prophet of that desolation which was to bow the grandeur\nof Judah to the grave as the tree of the mountain in the whirlwind. Saint\nand martyr, let my life be as thine; and if it be the will of God, let my\ndeath be even as thine!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Renunciation]\n\nHe threw himself on his knees and remained in prayer for a time. I knelt\nwith him, but no prayer would issue from my heart. He at length rose,\nand, leading me into the moonlight, said in a low voice: \u201cIs there\nnot, where the holy sleep, a holiness in the very ground? I waive all\nthe superstitious feelings of the idolater, worshiping the dust of the\ncreature, for the King alike of all. I pass over the natural human homage\nfor the memory of those who have risen above us by the great qualities\nof their being. But if there are supernal influences acting upon the\nmind of man; if the winged spirits that minister before the throne still\ndescend to earth on missions of mercy, I will believe that their loved\nplace is round the grave where sleeps the mortal portion of the holy. In\nall our journeys to the Temple, it has been the custom of our shattered\nand humiliated tribe to pause beside this tomb, and offer up our homage\nto that Mightiest of the mighty who made such men for the lights of\nIsrael!\u201d He then earnestly repeated the question: \u201cHave you abandoned\nyour office?\u201d \u201cYes,\u201d was the answer, \u201ctotally, with full purpose never to\nresume it. In your mountains I will live with you, and with you I will\ndie.\u201d Memory smote me as I pronounced the word; the refuge of the grave\nwas not for me!\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have relieved my spirit of a load; you are now my\nmore than brother.\u201d He clasped me in his arms. \u201cYes, Salathiel, I know\nthat your high heart must have scorned the prejudices of the Scribe\nand the Pharisee; you must have seen through and loathed the smiling\nhypocrisy, the rancorous bigotry, and the furious thirst of blood that\nare hourly sinking us below the lowest of the heathen. Hating the tyranny\nof the Roman, as I live this hour, I would rather see the city of David\ninhabited by none but the idolater, or delivered over to the curse of\nBabylon and made the couch of the lion and the serpent, than see its\ncourts filled with those impious traitors to the spirit of the law,\nthose cruel extortioners under the mask of self-denial, those malignant\nrevelers in human torture under the name of insulted religion, whose joy\nis crime, and every hour of whose being but wearies the long-suffering of\nGod and precipitates the ruin of my country.\u201d\n\nHe drew from his bosom and unrolled in the moonlight a small copy of the\nScriptures. \u201cMy brother,\u201d said he, \u201chave you read the holy prophecies of\nhim by whose grave we stand?\u201d My only answer was a smile; they were the\nchief study of the priesthood. \u201cTrue,\u201d said he; \u201cno doubt, you have read\nthe words of the prophet. But wisdom is known of her children, and of\nthem alone. Read here.\u201d\n\nI read the famous Haphtorah:[9] \u201cWho hath believed our report? and to\nwhom is the arm of the Lord revealed? For he shall grow up before him as\na tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground; he hath no form nor\ncomeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should\ndesire him. He is the despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Future Deliverer of Judah]\n\nHe stopped me, laying his hand on my arm; I felt his strong nerves\ntremble like an infant\u2019s. \u201cOf whom hath the prophet spoken?\u201d uttered he\nin a voice of intense anxiety. \u201cOf whom? Of the Deliverer that is to\nrestore Judah; Him that is to come,\u201d was my answer. \u201cHim that _is to\ncome_\u2014still _to come_?\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cGod of heaven, must the veil be\nforever on the face of Thy Israel? When shall our darkness be light, and\nthe chain of our spirit be broken!\u201d The glow and power of his countenance\nsank; he took the roll with a sigh, and replaced it in his robe; then\nwith his hands clasped across his bosom, and his head bowed, he led our\nsilent way up the side of the valley.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n_Salathiel and His People_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Position of the Jew]\n\nWe soon reached the hill country, and our road passed through what were\nonce the allotments of Issachar, Zebulun, and Asher, but by the Roman\ndivision was now Upper Galilee. My health had been rapidly restored by\nthe exercise and the balmy air. My more incurable disease was prevented\nby the journey from perhaps totally engrossing my mind. Of all the\nantagonists to mental depression, traveling is the most vigorous; not\nthe flight from place to place, as if evil were to be outrun, nor the\nenclosure of the weary of life in some narrow vehicle that adds fever and\npestilence to heaviness of heart, but the passing at our ease through the\nopen air and bright landscape of a new country. To me the novelty and\nloveliness of the land were combined with the memory of the most striking\nevents in human record. I had, too, the advantage of a companionship\nwhich would have enlivened travel through the wilderness\u2014brave and\ncheerful men and women on whose minds and forms nature laid her finest\nstamp of beauty.\n\n[Sidenote: The Semitic Type of Beauty]\n\nThe name of Jew is now but another title for humiliation. Who that sees\nthat fallen thing, with his countenance bent to the ground and his form\nwithered of its comeliness, tottering through the proud streets of Europe\nin some degrading occupation, and clothed in the robes of the beggared\nand the despised, could imagine the bold figures and gallant bearing of\nthe lion-hunters, with whom, in the midst of shouts and songs of careless\njoy, I spurred my barb up the mountain-paths of Galilee! Yet, fallen\nas he is, the physiognomy of the Jew retains a share of its original\nbeauty, sufficient to establish the claim of the people to have been the\nhandsomest race on earth. Individuals of superior comeliness may often be\nfound among the multitudes of mankind. But no nation, nor distinct part\nof any nation, can rival an equal number of the unhappy exiles of Israel\nin the original impress of that hand which made man only a little lower\nthan the angels. To conceive the Jew as he was, we should picture the\nstern and watchful contraction of the dark eye expanded; the fierce and\nridgy brow lowering no more; the lip no longer gathered in habitual fear\nor scorn; the cheek no longer sallow with want or pining, and the whole\nman elevated by the returning consciousness that he has a rank among\nnations. All his deformities have been the birth of his misfortunes. What\nbeauty can we demand from the dungeon? What dignity of aspect from the\nhewers of wood and drawers of water for mankind? Where shall we seek the\nmagnificent form and illumined countenance of the hero and the sage\u2014from\nthe heart cankered by the chain, from the plundered, the enslaved, the\npersecuted of two thousand years?\n\nOf the daughters of my country I have never seen the equals in beauty.\nOur blood was Arab, softened down by various changes of state and\nclimate, till it was finally brought to perfection in the most genial\nair and the most generous soil of the globe. The vivid features of the\nArab countenance, no longer attenuated by the desert, assumed, in the\nplenty of Egypt, that fulness and fine proportion which still belongs to\nthe dwellers by the Nile; but the true change was on our entrance into\nthe promised land. Peace, the possession of property, days spent among\nthe cheerful and healthful occupations of rural life, are in themselves\nproductive of the finer developments of the human form\u2014a form whose\nnatural tendency is to beauty. But our nation had an additional and an\nunshared source of nobleness of aspect: it was free.\n\nThe state of man in the most unfettered republics of the ancient world\nwas slavery compared with the magnanimous and secure establishment of\nthe Jewish commonwealth. During the three hundred golden years, from\nMoses to Samuel\u2014before we were given over to the madness of innovation\nfor our sins, and the demand of an earthly diadem\u2014the Jew was free in\nthe loftiest sense of freedom; free to do all good; restricted only\nfrom evil; every man pursuing the unobstructed course pointed out by his\ngenius or his fortune; every man protected by laws inviolable, or whose\nviolation was instantly visited with punishment by the Eternal Sovereign\nalike of ruler and people.\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom, Twin Sister of Virtue]\n\nFreedom! twin sister of Virtue, thou brightest of all the spirits that\ndescended in the train of Religion from the throne of God; thou that\nleadest up man again to the early glories of his being; angel, from the\ncircle of whose presence happiness spreads like the sunrise over the\ndarkness of the land; at the waving of whose scepter, knowledge and peace\nand fortitude and wisdom descend upon the wing; at the voice of whose\ntrumpet the more than grave is broken and slavery gives up her dead,\u2014when\nshall I see thy coming? When shall I hear thy summons upon the mountains\nof my country, and rejoice in the regeneration and glory of the sons\nof Judah? I have traversed nations, and, as I set my foot upon their\nboundary, I have said, \u201cFreedom is not here!\u201d I saw the naked hill, the\nmorass steaming with death, the field covered with weedy fallow, the\nsickly thicket encumbering the land; I saw the still more infallible\nsigns, the downcast visage, the form degraded at once by loathsome\nindolence and desperate poverty; the peasant, cheerless and feeble in his\nfield, the wolfish robber, the population of the cities crowded into huts\nand cells, with pestilence for their fellow; I saw the contumely of man\nto man, the furious vindictiveness of popular rage, and I pronounced at\nthe moment, \u201cThis people is not free!\u201d\n\nIn the various republics of heathen antiquity, the helot living under\nthe yoke of oppression, and the born bondsman lingering out life in\nthankless toil, at once put to flight all conceptions of freedom. In the\nmidst of altars fuming to liberty, of harangues glowing with the most\npompous protestations of scorn for servitude, of crowds inflated with the\npresumption that they disdained a master, the eye was insulted with the\nperpetual chain. The temple of Liberty was built upon the dungeon. Rome\ncame, and unconsciously avenged the insulted name of freedom; the master\nand the slave were bowed down together, and the dungeon was made the\ncommon dwelling of all.\n\n[Sidenote: Where Freedom Reigned in Name Alone]\n\nIn the Italian republics of after ages, I saw the vigor that, living\nin the native soil of empire, has always sprung up on the first call.\nThe time has changed since Italy poured its legions over the world. The\nvolcano was now sleeping; yet the fire still burned within its womb, and\nthrew out in its invisible strength the luxuriant qualities of the land\nof power. The innate Roman passion for sovereignty was no longer to find\nits triumphs in the field; it rushed up the paths of a loftier and more\nsolid glory, with a speed and a strength that left mankind wondering\nbelow. The arts, adventure, legislation, literature in all its shapes, of\nthe subtle, the rich, and the sublime, were the peaceful triumphs whose\nlaurels will entwine the Italian brow when the wreath of the C\u00e6sars is\nremembered but as a badge of national folly and individual crime.\n\nBut those republics knew freedom only by name. All, within a few\nyears from their birth, had abandoned its living principles\u2014justice,\ntemperance, and truth. I saw the soldiery of neighbor cities marching\nto mutual devastation, and I said, \u201cFreedom is not here!\u201d I saw abject\nprivation mingled with boundless luxury; in the midst of the noblest\nworks of architecture, the hovel; in the pomps of citizens covered with\ncloth of gold, gazing groups of faces haggard with beggary and sin; I\nsaw the sold tribunal, the inexorable state prison, the established spy,\nthe protected assassin, the secret torture; and I said, \u201cFreedom is not\nhere!\u201d The pageant filled the streets with more than kingly blazonry, the\ntrumpets flourished, the multitude shouted, the painter covered the walls\nwith immortal emblems, in honor of Freedom; I pointed to the dungeon, the\nrack, and the dagger! Bitterer and deeper sign than all, I pointed to the\nexile of exiles, the broken man, whom even the broken trample, of all the\nundone the most undone\u2014my outcast brother in the blood of Abraham!\n\nI am not about to be his defender; I am not regardless of his tremendous\ncrime; I can not stand up alone against the voice of universal man, which\nhas cried out that thus it shall be; but I say it from the depths of my\nsoul, and as I hope for rest to my miseries, that I never saw freedom\nsurvive in that land which loved to smite the Jew!\n\n[Sidenote: The Women of Judea]\n\nI saw one republic more, the mightiest and the last; for the justice\nof Heaven on the land, the most terrible; for the mercy of Heaven to\nmankind, the briefest in its devastation. But there all was hypocrisy\nthat was not horror; the only equal rights were those of the equal\nrobber; the sacred figure of Liberty veiled its face; and the offering on\nits violated shrine was the spoil of honor, bravery, and virtue.\n\nThe daughters of our nation, sharing in the rights of its sons, bore\nthe lofty impression that virtuous freedom always stamps on the human\nfeatures. But they had the softer graces of their sex in a degree\nunequaled in the ancient world. While the woman of the East was immured\nbehind bolts and bars, from time immemorial a prisoner, and the woman of\nthe West was a toy, a savage, or a slave, our wives and maidens enjoyed\nthe intercourses of society, which their talents were well calculated\nto cheer and adorn. They were skilled on the harp; their sweet voices\nwere tuned to the richest strains of earth; they were graceful in the\ndance; the writings of our bards were in their hands; and what nation\never possessed such illustrious founts of thought and virtue! But there\nwas another and a still higher ground for that peculiar expression which\nmakes their countenance still lighten before me, as something of more\nthan mortal beauty. The earliest consciousness of every Jewish woman\nwas, that she might, in the hand of Providence, be the sacred source of\na blessing and a glory that throws all imagination into the shade; that\nof her might be born a Being, to whom earth and all its kings should\nbow\u2014the more than man! the more than angel! veiling for a little time\nHis splendors in the form of man, to raise Israel to the scepter of the\nworld, to raise that world into a renewed paradise, and then to resume\nHis original glory, and be Sovereign, Creator, God\u2014all in all!\n\n[Sidenote: The Passing Glory of Judah\u2019s Daughters]\n\nThis consciousness, however dimmed, was never forgotten; the misfortunes\nof Judah never breaking the strong link by which we held to the future.\nThe reliance on predictions perpetually renewed, and never more vividly\nrenewed than in the midst of our misfortunes\u2014a reliance commemorated in\nall the great ceremonies of our nation, in our worship, in our festivals,\nin every baptism, in every marriage\u2014must have filled a large space in the\nsusceptible mind of woman. And what but the mind forms the countenance?\nAnd what must have been the molding of that most magnificent and\nelevating of all hopes, for centuries, on the most plastic and expressive\nfeatures in the world?\n\nSacredly reserved from intermixture with the blood of the stranger, the\nhope was spread throughout Israel. The line of David was pure, but its\nconnection had shot widely through the land. It was like the Indian tree\ntaking root through a thousand trees. Every Jewish woman might hope to\nbe the living altar on which the Light to lighten the Gentiles was to\ndescend! The humblest might be the blessed among women\u2014the mother of the\nMessiah! But all is gone! Ages of wandering, wo, poverty, contumely,\nand mixture of blood have done their work of evil. The loveliness may\npartially remain, but the glory of Judah\u2019s daughters is no more.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n_The Loss of a Life_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Wolf Chase among the Mountains]\n\nWe continued ascending through the defiles of the mountain range of\nCarmel. The gorges of the hills gave us alternate glimpses of Lower\nGalilee, and of the great sea which lay bounding the western horizon with\nazure. The morning breezes from the land, now in the full vegetation of\nthe rapid spring of Palestine, scarcely ceased to fill the heavens with\nfragrance, when the sea-wind sprang up and, with the coolness and purity\nof a gush of fountain-waters, renewed the spirit of life in the air and\nmade the whole caravan forget its fatigue. Our bold hunters spurred down\nthe valleys and up the hills with the wildness of superfluous vigor,\ntossed their lances into the air, sang their mountain songs, and shouted\nthe cries of the chase and the battle.\n\nOn one eventful day a wolf was started from its covert, and every rein\nwas let loose in a moment; nothing could stop the fearlessness of the\nriders or exhaust the fire of the steeds. The caravan, coming on slowly\nwith the women and children and lengthening out among the passes, was\nforgotten. I scorned to be left behind, and followed my daring companions\nat full speed. The wolf led us a long chase; and on the summit of a\nrock, still blazing in the sunlight like a beacon, while the plain was\ngrowing dim, he fought his last fight, and, transfixed with a hundred\nlances, died the death of a hero. But the spot which we had reached\nsupplied statelier contemplations: we were on the summit of Mount Tabor;\nthe eye wandered over the whole glory of the Land of Promise. To the\nsouth extended the mountains of Samaria, their peaked summits glowing in\nthe sun with the colored brilliancy of a chain of gems. To the east lay\nthe lake of Tiberias, a long line of purple. Northward, like a thousand\nrainbows, ascended, lit by the western flame, the mountains of Gilboa,\nthose memorable hills on which the spear of Saul was broken, and the\nfirst curse of our obstinacy was branded upon us in the blood of our\nfirst king. Closing the superb circle, and soaring into the very heavens,\nascended step by step the Antilibanus.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s View from Mount Tabor]\n\nOf all the sights that nature offers to the eye and mind of man,\nmountains have always stirred my strongest feelings. I have seen the\nocean when it was turned up from the bottom by tempest, and noon was\nlike night with the conflict of the billows and the storm that tore and\nscattered them in mist and foam across the sky. I have seen the desert\nrise around me, and calmly, in the midst of thousands uttering cries\nof horror and paralyzed by fear, have contemplated the sandy pillars\ncoming like the advance of some gigantic city of conflagration flying\nacross the wilderness, every column glowing with intense fire and every\nblast with death; the sky vaulted with gloom, the earth a furnace. But\nwith me, the mountain\u2014in tempest or in calm, whether the throne of the\nthunder or with the evening sun painting its dells and declivities\nin colors dipped in heaven\u2014has been the source of the most absorbing\nsensations: _there_ stands magnitude, giving the instant impression of a\npower above man\u2014grandeur that defies decay\u2014antiquity that tells of ages\nunnumbered\u2014beauty that the touch of time makes only more beautiful\u2014use\nexhaustless for the service of man\u2014strength imperishable as the globe;\nthe monument of eternity\u2014the truest earthly emblem of that ever-living,\nunchangeable, irresistible Majesty by whom and for whom all things were\nmade!\n\nI was gazing on the Antilibanus, and peopling its distant slopes with\nfigures of other worlds ascending and descending, as in the patriarch\u2019s\ndream, when I was roused by the trampling steed of one of my kinsmen\nreturning with the wolf\u2019s head, the trophy of his superior prowess, at\nhis saddle-bow.\n\n[Sidenote: Jubal\u2019s Tribal Pride]\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d said he, \u201cyou disdained to share the last battle of that dog of the\nGalilees? But we shall show you something better worth the chase when we\nreach home. The first snow that drives the lions down from Lebanon, or\nthe first hot wind that sends the panthers flying before it from Assyria,\nwill have all our villages up in arms; every man who can draw a bow or\nthrow a lance will be on the mountains; and then we shall give you the\nhonors of a hunter in exchange for your philosophy.\u201d He uttered this with\na jovial laugh, and a hand grasping mine with the grip of a giant. \u201cYet,\u201d\nsaid he, and a shade passed over his brow, \u201cI wish we had something\nbetter to do; you must not look down upon Jubal, and the tribe of your\nbrother Eleazar, as mere rovers after wolves and panthers.\u201d[10]\n\nI willingly declared my respect for the intrepidity and dexterity\nwhich the mountain life insured. I applauded its health, activity, and\ncheerfulness. \u201cYet,\u201d interrupted Jubal sternly, \u201cwhat can be done while\nthose Romans are everywhere round us?\u201d He stopped short, reined up his\nhorse with a sudden force that made the animal spring from the ground,\nflung his lance high in air, caught it in the fall, and having thus\nrelieved his indignation, returned to discuss with me the chances of a\nRoman war. \u201cLook at those,\u201d said he, pointing to the horsemen who were\nnow bounding across the declivities to rejoin the caravan; \u201ctheir horses\nare flame, their bodies are iron, and their souls would be both if they\nhad a leader.\u201d \u201cEleazar is brave,\u201d I replied. \u201cBrave as his own lance,\u201d\nwas the answer; \u201cno warmer heart, wiser head, or firmer arm moves at this\nhour within the borders of the land. But he despairs.\u201d \u201cHe knows,\u201d said\nI, \u201cthe Roman power and the Jewish weakness.\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth\u2014both, too well!\u201d was the reply. \u201cBut he forgets the power that is\nin the cause of a people fighting for their law and for their rights, in\nthe midst of glorious remembrances, nay, in the hope of a help greater\nthan that of the sword. Look at the tract beyond those linden-trees.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Jubal, the Jewish Warrior]\n\nHe pointed to a broken extent of ground, darkly distinguishable from the\nrest of the plain. \u201cOn that ground, to this moment wearing the look of a\ngrave, was drawn up the host of Sisera; under that ground is its grave.\nBy this stone,\u201d and he struck his lance on a rough pillar defaced by\ntime, \u201cstood Deborah the prophetess, prophesying against the thousands\nand tens of thousands of the heathen below. On this hill were drawn\nup the army of Barak, as a drop in the ocean compared with the infidel\nmultitudes. They were the ancestors of the men whom you now see trooping\nbefore you; the men of Naphtali, with their brothers of Zebulun. On this\nspot they gathered their might like the storm of heaven. From this spot\nthey poured down like its whirlwinds and lightnings upon the taunting\nenemy. God was their leader. They rushed upon the nine hundred scythed\nchariots, upon the mailed cavalry, upon the countless infantry. Of all,\nbut one escaped from the plain of Jezreel, and that one only to perish in\nhis flight by the degradation of a woman\u2019s hand!\u201d He wheeled round his\nfoaming horse, and appealed to me. \u201cAre the Roman legions more numerous\nthan that host of the dead? Is Israel now less valiant, less wronged,\nor less indignant? Shall no prophet arise among us again? Shall it not\nbe sung again, as it was then sung to the harps of Israel: \u2018Zebulun and\nNaphtali were a people that jeoparded their lives unto the death in the\nhigh places of the field\u2019?\u201d\n\nI looked with involuntary wonder at the change wrought in him by those\nproud recollections. The rude and jovial hunter was no more; the Jewish\nwarrior stood before me, filled with the double impulse of generous scorn\nof the oppression and of high dependence on the fate of his nation. His\ncountenance was ennobled, his form seemed to dilate, his voice grew\nsonorous as a trumpet. A sudden burst of the declining sun broke upon\nhis figure, and threw a sheet of splendor across the scarlet turban,\nthe glittering tunic, the spear-point lifted in the strenuous hand, the\nrichly caparisoned front and sanguine nostrils of his impatient charger.\nA Gentile would have worshiped him as the tutelar genius of war. I saw\nin him but the man that our history and our law were ordained beyond all\nothers to have made\u2014the native strength of character raised into heroism\nby the conviction of a guiding and protecting Providence.\n\nThe conversation was not forgotten on either side; and it bore fruit,\nfearful fruit, in time.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Plunge Down the Precipice]\n\nWe had reached on our return a commanding point, from which we looked\ninto the depths already filling with twilight, and through whose blue\nvapors the caravan toiled slowly along, like a wearied fleet in some\nbillowy sea. Suddenly a tumult was perceived below; shouts of confusion\nand terror rose, and the whole caravan was seen scattering in all\ndirections through the passes. For the first moment we thought that it\nhad been attacked by the mountain robbers. We grasped our lances, and\ngalloped down the side of the hill to charge them, when we were stopped\nat once by a cry from the ridge which we had just left. It struck through\nmy heart\u2014the voice was Miriam\u2019s. To my unspeakable horror, I saw her\ndromedary, mad with fear and pouring blood, rush along the edge of the\nprecipice. I saw the figure clinging to his neck. The light forsook my\neyes, and but for the grasp of Jubal, I must have fallen to the ground.\nHis voice aroused me. When I looked round again, the shouts had died, the\ntroop had disappeared\u2014it seemed all a dream!\n\nBut, again, the shouts came doubling upon the wind, and far as the eye\ncould pierce through the dusk, I saw the white robe of Miriam flying\nalong like a vapor. I threw the reins on my horse\u2019s neck\u2014I roused\nhim with my voice\u2014I rushed with the fearlessness of despair through\nthe hills\u2014I overtook the troop\u2014I outstripped them\u2014still the vision\nflew before me. At length it sank. The dromedary had plunged down the\nprecipice, a depth of hideous darkness. A torrent roared below. I struck\nin the spur to follow. My horse wheeled round on the edge; while I strove\nto force him to the leap, my kinsmen came up, with Eleazar at their head.\nBold as they were, they all recoiled from the frightful depth. Even in\nthat wild moment I had time to feel that this was but the beginning of my\ninflictions, and that I was to be the ruin of all that belonged to me. In\nconsciousness unspeakable, I sprang from my startled steed, and before a\nhand could check me I plunged in. A cry of astonishment and horror rang\nin my ears as I fell. The roar of waters was then around me. I struggled\nwith the torrent, gasped, and heard no more.\n\n[Sidenote: The Spring of a Wolf]\n\nThis desperate effort saved the life of Miriam. We were found apparently\ndead, clasped in each other\u2019s arms, at some distance down the stream.\nThe plunge had broken the band by which she was fixed on the saddle. She\nfloated, and we were thrown together by the eddy. After long effort, we\nwere restored. But the lamentations of my matchless wife were restrained\nbeside my couch, only to burst forth when she was alone. We had lost our\ninfant!\n\nThe chase of the wolves in the mountain had driven them across the\nmarch of the caravan. One of those savages sprang upon the flank of\nthe dromedary. The animal, in the agony of its wounds, burst away; its\nproverbial fleetness baffled pursuit, and it was almost fortunate that it\nat length bounded over the precipice, as, in the mountain country, its\nprecious burden must have perished by the lion or by famine. Miriam held\nher babe with the strong grasp of a mother, but in the torrent that grasp\nwas dissolved. All our search was in vain. My wife wept; but I had in her\nrescued my chief treasure on earth, and was partially consoled by the\nsame deep feeling which pronounced that I might have been punished by the\nloss of all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n_Salathiel Confronts the Shade of Antiochus_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Discontent]\n\nLet me hasten through some years.[11] The sunshine of life was gone; in\nall my desire to conform to the habits of my new career, I found myself\nincapable of contentment. But the times, that had long resembled the\nstagnation of a lake, were beginning to be shaken. Rome herself, the\nprey of conspiracy, gradually held her foreign scepter with a feebler\nhand. Gaul and Germany were covered with gathering clouds, and their\nflashes were answered from the Asiatic hills. With the relaxation of\nthe paramount authority, the chain of subordinate oppression, as always\nhappens, was made tighter. As the master was enfeebled, the menials were\nless in awe; and Judea rapidly felt what must be the evils of a military\ngovernment without the strictness of military discipline.\n\n[Sidenote: His Painful Recollections]\n\nI protest against being charged with ambition. But I had a painful sense\nof the guilt of suffering even such powers as I might possess to waste\naway, without use to some part of mankind. I was weary of the utter\nunproductiveness of the animal enjoyments, in which I saw the multitude\nround me content to linger into old age. I longed for an opportunity\nof contributing my mite to the solid possessions by which posterity is\nwiser, happier, or purer than the generation before it\u2014some trivial\ntribute to that mighty stream of time which ought to go on, continually\nbringing richer fertility as it flowed. I was not grieved by the change\nwhich I saw overshadowing the gorgeous empire of Rome. My unspeakable\ncrime may have thrown a deeper tinge on those contemplations. But by a\nsingular fatality, and perhaps for the increase of my punishment, I was\nleft for long periods in each year to the common impressions of life.\nThe wisdom, which even my great misfortune might have forced upon me,\nwas withheld; and the being who, in the conviction of his mysterious\ndestiny, must have looked upon earth and its pursuits as man looks upon\nthe labors and the life of flies\u2014as atoms in the sunshine\u2014as measureless\nemptiness and trifling\u2014was given over to be disturbed by the impulses of\ngenerations on whose dust he was to sit, and to see other generations\nrise round him, themselves to sink alike into dust, while he still sat an\nimage of endurance, torturing, but imperishable.\n\nThere was a season in each year when those recollections returned with\noverwhelming vividness. If all other knowledge of the approach of the\nPassover could have escaped me, there were signs, fearful signs, that\nwarned me of that hour of my wo. A periodic dread of the sight of man, a\nsudden sense of my utter separation from the interests of the transitory\nbeings around me, wild dreams, days of immovable abstraction, yet\nfilled with the breathing picture of all that I had done on the day of\nmy guilt in Jerusalem, rose before me with such intense reality that I\nlived again through the scene. The successive progress of my crime\u2014the\nswift and stinging consciousness of condemnation\u2014the flash of fearful\nknowledge, that showed me futurity\u2014all were felt with the keenness of a\nbeing from whom his fleshly nature has been stripped away and the soul\nbared to every visitation of pain. I stood, like a disembodied spirit, in\nsuffering.\n\nYet I could not be restrained from following my tribe on their annual\nprogress to the Holy City. To see from afar the towers of the Temple\nwas with me like a craving for life\u2014but I never dared to set my foot\nwithin its gates. On some pretense or other, and sometimes through real\npowerlessness, arising from the conflict of my heart, I lingered behind,\nyet within the distance from which the city could be seen. There among\nthe precipices I wandered through the day, listening to the various\nuproar of the mighty multitude, or wistfully catching some echo of the\nhymns in the Temple\u2014sounds that stole from my eye many a tear\u2014till\ndarkness fell, the city slumbered, and the blast of the Roman trumpets,\nas they divided the night, reminded me of the fallen glories of my\ncountry.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Beside the Lake]\n\nIn one of those wanderings I had followed the courses of the Kedron,\nwhich, from a brook under the walls of Jerusalem, swells to a river\non its descent to the Dead Sea. The blood of the sacrifices from the\nconduits of the altars curdled on its surface and stained the sands\npurple. It looked like a wounded vein from the mighty heart above. I\nstill strayed on, wrapped in sad forebodings of the hour when its stains\nmight be of more than sacrifice, until I found myself on the edge of the\nlake. Who has ever seen that black expanse without a shudder? There were\nthe engulfed cities. Around it life was extinct\u2014no animal bounded\u2014no bird\nhovered. The distant rushing of the Jordan, as it forced its current\nthrough the heavy waters, or the sigh of the wind through the reeds,\nalone broke the silence of this mighty grave. Of the melancholy objects\nof nature, none is more depressing than a large expanse of stagnant\nwaters. No gloom of forest or wildness of mountain is so overpowering as\nthis dreary, unrelieved flatness\u2014the marshy border, the sickly vegetation\nof the shore, the leaden color which even the sky above it wears, tinged\nby its sepulchral atmosphere. But the waters before me were not left to\nthe dreams of a saddened fancy\u2014they were a sepulcher. Myriads of human\nbeings lay beneath them, entombed in sulfurous beds. The wrath of Heaven\nhad been there! The day of destruction seemed to pass again before my\neyes, as I lay gazing upon those sullen depths. I saw them once more\na plain covered with richness; cities glittering in the morning sun;\nmultitudes pouring out from their gates to sports and festivals; the\nland exulting with life and luxuriance: Then a cloud gathered above. I\nheard the thunder: it was answered by the earthquake. Fire burst from\nthe skies: it was answered by a thousand founts of fire spouting from\nthe plain. The distant hills blazed and threw volcanic showers over the\ncities. Round them was a tide of burning bitumen. The earthquake heaved\nagain. All sank into the gulf. I heard the roar of the distant waters.\nThey rushed into the bed of fire; the doom was done; the cities of the\nplain were gone down to the blackness of darkness forever!\n\n[Sidenote: A Meeting]\n\nI was idly watching the bursts of suffocating vapor, that shoot up at\nintervals from the rising masses of bitumen, when I was startled by\na wild laugh and wilder figure beside me. I sprang to my feet, and\nprepared for defense with my poniard. The figure waved its hand, in\nsign to sheathe the unnecessary weapon, and said, in a tone strange and\nmelancholy: \u201cYou are in my power, but I do not come to injure you. I\nhave been contemplating your countenance for some time; I have seen your\ndisturbed features\u2014your wringing hands\u2014your convulsed form\u2014are you even\nas I am?\u201d\n\nThe voice was singularly mild; yet I never heard a sound that so keenly\npierced my brain. The speaker was of the tallest stature of man\u2014every\nsinew and muscle exhibiting gigantic strength; yet with the symmetry of\na Greek statue. But his countenance was the true wonder\u2014it was of the\nfinest mold of manly beauty; the contour was Greek, though the hue was\nSyrian\u2014yet the dark tinge of country gave way at times to a corpse-like\npaleness. I had full leisure for the view, for he stood gazing on me\nwithout a word and I remained fixed on my defense. At length he said:\n\u201cPut up that poniard! You could no more hurt me than you could resist me.\nLook here!\u201d He wrenched a huge mass of rock from the ground and whirled\nit far into the lake, as if it had been a pebble. I gazed with speechless\nastonishment. \u201cYes,\u201d pursued the figure, \u201cthey throw me into their\nprisons\u2014they lash me\u2014they stretch me on the rack\u2014they burn my flesh.\u201d As\nhe spoke he flung aside his robe and showed his broad breast covered with\nscars. \u201cShort-sighted fools! little they know him who suffers or him who\ncommands. If it were not my will to endure, I could crush my tormentors\nas I crush an insect. They chain me, too,\u201d said he with a laugh of scorn.\nHe drew out the arm which had been hitherto wrapped in his robe. It was\nloaded with heavy links of iron. He grasped one of them in his hand,\ntwisted it off with scarcely an effort, and flung it up a sightless\ndistance in the air. \u201cSuch are bars and bolts to me! When my time is come\nto suffer, I submit to be tortured! When that time is past, I tear away\ntheir fetters, burst their dungeons, and walk forth trampling their armed\nmen.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Craves Power]\n\nI sheathed the dagger. \u201cDoes this strength amaze you?\u201d said the being;\n\u201clook to yonder dust\u201d\u2014and he pointed to a cloud of sand that came flying\nalong the shore. \u201cI could outstrip that whirlwind; I could plunge unhurt\ninto the depths of that sea; I could ascend that mountain swifter than\nthe eagle; I could ride that thunder-cloud.\u201d\n\nAs he threw himself back, gazing upon the sky with his grand form buoyant\nwith vigor and his arm raised, he looked like one to whom height or depth\ncould offer no obstacle. His mantle flew out along the blast, like the\nunfurling of a mighty wing. There was something in his look and voice\nthat gave irresistible conviction to his words. Conscious mastery was in\nall about him. I should not have felt surprise to see him spring up into\nthe clouds!\n\nMy mind grew inflamed by his presence. My blood burned with sensations\nfor which language was no name\u2014a thirst of power\u2014a scorn of earth\u2014a proud\nand fiery longing for the command of the hidden mysteries of nature. I\nfelt as the great ancestor of mankind might have felt when the tempter\ntold him, \u201cYe shall be even as gods.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me your power!\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cthe world to me is worthless; with\nman all my ties are broken; let me live in the desert, and be even as you\nare; give me your power.\u201d \u201cMy power?\u201d he repeated, with a ghastly laugh\nthat was echoed round the wilderness by what seemed voices innumerable\nuntil it died away in a distant groan. \u201cLook on this forehead!\u201d\u2014he threw\nback the corner of his mantle. A furrow was drawn round his brow, covered\nwith gore, and gaping like a fresh wound. \u201cHere,\u201d cried he, \u201csat the\ndiadem. I was Epiphanes.\u201d[12]\n\n[Sidenote: Which Antiochus Promises]\n\n\u201cYou, Antiochus! the tyrant\u2014the persecutor\u2014the spoiler\u2014the accursed of\nIsrael!\u201d I bounded backward in sudden horror. I saw before me one of\nthose spirits of the evil dead who are allowed from time to time to\nreappear on earth in the body, whether of the dead or the living. For\nsome cause that none could unfold, Judea had been, within the last few\nyears, haunted by those beings more than for centuries. Strange rites,\ndangerously borrowed from the idolaters, were resorted to for our relief\nfrom this new terror: the pulling of the mandrake at the eclipse of\nthe moon\u2014incantations\u2014midnight offerings\u2014the root of Baaras, that was\nsaid to flash flame and kill the animal that drew it from the ground.\nOur Sadducees and skeptics, wise in their own conceit, declared that\npossession was but a human disease, a wilder insanity. But, with the\nrange and misery of madness, there were tremendous distinctions, which\nraised it beyond all the ravages of the hurt mind or the afflicted\nframe\u2014the look, the language, the horror, of the possessed were above\nman. They defied human restraint; they lived in wildernesses where the\nvery serpents died; the fiery sun of the East, the inclemency of the\nfiercest winter, had no power to break down their strength. But they\nhad stronger signs. They spoke of things to which the wisdom of the\nwisest was folly; they told of the remotest future, with the force of\nprophecy; they gave glimpses of a knowledge brought from realms of being\ninaccessible to living man; last and loftiest sign, they did homage\nto HIS coming, whom a cloud of darkness, the guilty and impenetrable\ndarkness of the heart, had veiled from my unhappy nation. But their\nworship was terror\u2014they believed and trembled.\n\n\u201cPower,\u201d said the possessed, and his large and unmoving eyes seemed\nlighting up with fire from within; \u201cpower you shall have, and hate it;\nwealth you shall have, and hate it; life you shall have, and hate it; yet\nyou shall know the heights and depths of man. You shall be the worm among\na nation of worms; you shall be steeped in ruin to the lips; you shall\nundergo the bitterness of death, until\u2014\u2014\u201d His brow writhed; he gnashed\nhis teeth, and convulsively sprang from the ground, as if an arrow had\nshot through him.\n\nThe current of his thoughts suddenly changed. Things above man were not\nto be uttered to the ear unopened by the grave. \u201cCome,\u201d said he, \u201cson of\nmisfortune, emblem of the nation that living shall die, and dying shall\nlive; that, trampled by all, shall trample upon all; that, bleeding\nfrom a thousand wounds, shall be unhurt; that, beggared, shall wield\nthe wealth of nations; that, without a name, shall sway the councils\nof kings; that, without a city, shall inhabit in all kingdoms; that,\nscattered like the dust, shall be bound together like the rock; that,\nperishing by the sword, by the chain, by famine, by fire, shall yet be\nimperishable, unnumbered, glorious as the stars of heaven.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Overpowered]\n\nOverwhelmed with sensations, rushing in a flood through my heart, I had\ncast myself upon the ground; the flashing of the fiery eye before me\nconsumed my blood; and, fainting, I lay with my face upon the sand. But\nhis words were deeply heard; with every sound of his searching voice they\nstruck into my soul. He grasped me; and I was lifted up like an infant in\nhis clutch. \u201cCome,\u201d said he, \u201cand see what is reserved for you and for\nyour people.\u201d\n\nHe darted forward with a speed that took away my breath; he ran\u2014he\nbounded\u2014he flew. \u201cNow, behold,\u201d he uttered in an accent as composed as if\nhe had not moved a limb. I looked, and found myself on one of the hills\nclose to the great southern gate of Jerusalem. Years had passed since I\nventured so nigh. But I now gazed on the city of pomp and beauty with an\ninvoluntary wonder that I could have ever deserted a scene so lovely and\nso loved.\n\nIt was the twilight of a summer evening. Tower and wall lay bathed in a\nsea of purple; the Temple rose from its center like an island of light;\nthe host of heaven came riding up the blue fields above; the sounds of\nday died in harmony. All was the sweetness, calmness, and splendor of a\nvision painted in the clouds.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said the possessed, \u201cI was once master, conqueror, avenger; yet\nI was but the instrument to punish your furious dissensions\u2014your guilty\nabandonment of the law of your leader\u2014your more than Gentile apostasy\nfrom the worship of Him who is to be worshiped with more than the blood\nof bulls and goats. A power hidden from my idolatrous eyes went before me\nand broke down the courage of your people. I marched through your gates\non the neck of the godless warrior; I plundered the wealth of your rich\nmen, made worldly by their wealth; I slew your priesthood, already the\nbetrayers of their altar; I overthrew your places of worship, already\ndefiled; I covered the ruins with the blood of swine; I raised idols in\nthe sanctuary; I bore away the golden vessels of the Temple, and gave\nthem to the insult of the Syrian; I slew your males, I made captives\nof your women; I abolished your sacrifices, and pronounced in my hour\nof blasphemy that within the walls of Jerusalem the flame should never\nagain be kindled to the Supreme. The deed was mine, but the cause was the\niniquity of your people.\u201d\n\nThe history of devastation roused in me those feelings native to the Jew\nby which I had been taught to look with abhorrence on the devastator.\n\n\u201cLet me be gone,\u201d I exclaimed, struggling from his grasp. \u201cStrange and\nterrible being, let me hear no more this outrage on God and man. I am\nguilty, too guilty, in having listened to you for a moment.\u201d\n\nHe laid his hand upon my brow, and I felt my strength dissolve at the\ntouch.\n\n[Sidenote: A Prophecy of the Future]\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said he, \u201cbut first be a witness of the future. A fiercer destroyer\nthan Epiphanes shall come, to punish a darker crime than ever stained\nyour forefathers. A destruction shall come to which the past was the\nsport of children. Tower and wall, citadel and temple, shall be dust.\nThe sword shall do its work\u2014the chain shall do its work\u2014the flame shall\ndo its work. Bad spirits shall rejoice; good spirits shall weep; Israel\nshall be clothed in sackcloth and ashes for a time, impenetrable by a\ncreated eye. The world shall exult, trample, scorn, and slay. Blindness,\nmadness, and misery shall be the portion of the people. Now, behold!\u201d\n\nHe stood, with his arm stretched out toward the Temple. All before me\nwas tranquillity itself; night had suddenly fallen deeper than usual;\nthe stars had been wrapped in clouds, that yet gathered without a wind;\na faint tinge of light from the summit of Mount Moriah, the gleam of the\nnever-extinguished altar of the daily sacrifice, alone marked the central\ncourt of the Temple. I turned from the almost death-like stillness of the\nscene, with a look of involuntary disbelief, to the face of my fearful\nguide; even in the deep darkness every feature of it was strangely\nvisible.\n\n[Sidenote: The Beginning of Evil]\n\nA low murmur from the city caught my ear; it rapidly grew loud, various,\nwild; it was soon intermingled with the clash of arms. Trumpets now rang;\nI recognized the charging shout of the Romans; I heard the tumultuous\nroar of my countrymen in return. The darkness was converted into light;\ntorches blazed along the battlements; the Tower of Antonia, the Roman\ncitadel, with its massy bulwarks and immense altitude, rose from a\ntossing expanse of flame below like a colossal funeral-pile; I could\nsee on its summit the alarm, the rapid signals, the hasty snatching up\nof spear and shield, the confusion of the garrison which that night\u2019s\nvengeance was to offer up on the pile. The roar of battle rose, it\ndeepened into cries of agony, it swelled again into furious exultation\u2014\u2014\n\nI thought of my countrymen butchered by some new caprice of power; of my\nkinsmen, perhaps at that instant involved in the massacre; of the city,\nevery stone and beam of which was dear to my embittered heart, given up\nto the vengeance of the idolater! The prediction of its ruin was in my\nears, and I longed to perish with my tribe. I panted with every shout of\nthe battle; every new sheet of flame that rolled upward from the burning\nhouses fevered me; I longed to rush into the uproar with the speed of the\nwhirlwind. But the terrible hand was still upon my forehead, and I was\nfeeble as a broken reed. \u201cBehold,\u201d said the possessed, \u201cthose are but the\nbeginnings of evil.\u201d I felt a sudden return of my strength; I looked up;\nhe was gone!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n_The Romans Driven from the Holy City_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Scene of Desolation]\n\nI plunged into the valley, and found it filled with fugitives, incapable\nfrom terror of giving me any account of the conflict. Women and children,\nhastily thrown on the mules and camels, continued to pour through the\ncountry. The road wound through hills, and tho sometimes approaching\nnear enough to the walls to be illuminated by the blaze of the torches\nand beacons, yet, from its general darkness and intricacy, I was left\nto make my way by the sounds of the struggle. But I was quickly within\nreach of ample evidence of what was doing in that night of havoc. The\nbend of the road, from which the first view of the grand portico was\nseen, had been the rallying-point for the multitude driven out by the\nunexpected resistance of the garrison. The tide of fight had thence ebbed\nand flowed, and I found the spot covered with the dead and dying. In\nmy haste, I fell over one of the wounded; he groaned and prayed me for\na cup of water. I knew the voice of Jairus, one of the boldest of our\nmountaineers, and bore him to the hillside that he might not be trampled\nby the crowd. He thanked me, and said: \u201cIf you be a man of Israel, fly to\nEleazar. Take this spear\u2014another moment may be too late.\u201d I seized the\nspear and sprang forward.\n\nThe multitude had repelled the Romans and forced them up the broad\ncentral street of the city. But a reenforcement from the Tower of Antonia\nhad joined the troops, and were driving back the victors with ruinous\ndisorder. I heard the war-cries of the tribes as they called to the\nrescue, and the charge, \u201cOnward, Judah!\u201d \u201cHo, for Zebulun!\u201d \u201cGlory to\nNaphtali!\u201d I thought of the times of Jewish triumph, and saw before me\nthe warriors of the Maccabees. Nerved with new sensations, the strong\ninstincts which make the war-horse paw the ground at the trumpet and make\nmen rush headlong upon death, heightened by the stinging recollections\nof our days of freedom, I forced my path through the multitude that\ntossed and whirled like the eddies of the ocean. I found my kinsmen in\nfront, battling desperately against the long spears of a Roman column,\nthat, solid as iron, and favored by the higher ground, was pressing down\nall before it. The resistance was heroic, but unavailing; and when I\nburst forward, I found at my side nothing but faces dark with despair or\ncovered with wounds. In front was a wall of shields and helmets, glaring\nin the light of the conflagration that was now rapidly spreading on\nall sides. The air was scorching, the smoke rolling against us in huge\nvolumes; burning and loss of blood were consuming the multitude. But\nwhat is in the strength of the soldier or the bravery of discipline to\ndaunt the desperate energy of men fighting for their country\u2014and, above\nall men, of the Israelite, fighting in sight of the profaned Temple? The\nnative frame, exercised by the habits of our temperate and agricultural\nlife, was one of surpassing muscular strength; and man for man thrown\nnaked into the field, we could have torn the Roman garrison into\nfragments for the fowls of the air. But their arms, and the help which\nthey received from the nature of the ground, were too strong for the\nassault of men fighting with no shield but their cloaks and no arms but a\npilgrim\u2019s staff or some weapon caught up from a dead enemy.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Wounded]\n\nYet on me there came a wild impression that this night was to make or\nunmake me; an undefined feeling that in the shedding of my blood in sight\nof the Temple there might be some palliative, some washing away of my\ncrime. I sprang forward between the combatants and defied the boldest\nof the legionaries; the battle paused for an instant, and my name was\nshouted in exultation by ten thousand voices. A shower of lances from the\nbattlements was instantly poured upon me. I felt myself wounded, but the\nfeeling only roused me to bolder daring. Tearing off my gory mantle, I\nlifted it on the point of my javelin, and, with the poniard in my right\nhand, devoted the Romans to ruin in the name of the Temple.\n\n[Sidenote: The Death of a Roman Tribune]\n\nThe enemy, in their native superstition, shrank from a being who looked\nthe messenger of angry Heaven. The naked figure, the blood streaming from\nmy wounds, the wild and mystic sound of my words, might have reminded\nthem of the diviners who had often terrorized their souls in their own\nland. I burst into the circle of their spears, waving my standard and\ncalling on my nation to follow. I smote to the right and left. The\nentrance that I had made in the iron bulwark was instantly filled by the\nmultitude. All discipline now gave way. The weight of the Roman armor\nwas ruinous to men grappled hand to hand by the light and sinewy agility\nof the Jew. We rushed on, trampling down cuirass and buckler, till we\ndrove the enemy like sheep before us to the first gate of the Tower of\nAntonia. Arrows, lances, stones, in showers from the battlements, then\ncould not stop the valor of the people. We rushed on to assault the gate.\nSabinus, the tribune of the legion, rallied the remnant of the fugitives,\nand under cover of the battlements made a last attempt to change the\nfortunes of the night. Exhausted as I was, bruised and bleeding, my feet\nand hands lacerated with the burning ruins, my tongue cleaving to my\nmouth with deadly thirst, I rushed upon him. He had been known to the\nJews as a tyrant and plunderer for the many years of his command. No\ntrophy of the battle could have been so cheering to them as his head.\nBut he had the bravery of his country, and it was now augmented by rage.\nThe despair of being able to clear himself before imperial jealousy for\nthat night\u2019s disasters must have made life worthless to him. He bounded\non the drawbridge at my cry. Our meeting was brief; my poniard broke on\nhis cuirass; his falchion descended with a blow that would have cloven\na headpiece of steel. I sprang aside and caught it on the shaft of my\njavelin standard, which it cut clear in two. I returned the blow with the\nfragment. The iron pierced his throat; he flung up his hands, staggered\nback, and dropped dead. The roar of Israel rent the heavens!\n\nScarcely more alive than the trunk at my feet, I fell back among the\nthrong. But whatever may be the envy of courts, no injustice is done in\nthe field. The successful leader is sure of his reward from the gallant\nspirits that he has conducted to victory. I was hailed with shouts\u2014I was\nlifted on the shoulders of the multitude; the men of Naphtali proudly\nclaimed me for their own, and when I clasped the hand of my brave friend\nJubal, whom I found in the foremost rank, covered with dust and blood, he\nexclaimed: \u201cRemember Barak; remember Mount Tabor!\u201d\n\nI looked round in vain for one with whom I had parted but a few\ndays before, and without whom I scarcely dared to meet Miriam. Her\nnoble brother was not to be seen. Had he fallen? Jubal understood my\ncountenance, and mournfully pointed to the citadel, which rose above us,\nfrowning down on our impotent rage.\n\n[Sidenote: Eleazar a Prisoner]\n\n\u201cEleazar is a prisoner?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cThere can be no hope for him from the hypocritical clemency of those\nbarbarians of Italy,\u201d was the answer; \u201cit was with him that the\ninsurrection began. Some new Roman insolence had commanded that our\npeople should offer a sacrifice to the image of the emperor\u2014to the\npolluted, bloodthirsty tyrant of Rome and mankind. Eleazar shrank from\nthis act of horror. The tribune, that dog of Rome, whose tongue you have\nsilenced\u2014so may perish all the enemies of the Holy City!\u2014commanded that\nour chieftain should be scourged at the altar. The cords were round\nhis arms; the spearmen were at his back; they marched him through the\nstreets calling on all the Jews to look upon the punishment that was\nequally reserved for all. Our indignation burst forth in groans and\nprayers. I hastily gathered the males of our tribe; we snatched up what\narms we could, and were rushing to his rescue when we saw him sweeping\nthe guard before him. He had broken his bands by a desperate effort. We\nfell upon the pursuers. Blood was now drawn, and we knew the vengeance\nof the Romans. To break up and scatter through the country would have\nbeen only to give our throats to their cavalry. Eleazar determined to\nanticipate the attack. Messengers were sent round to the leaders of\nthe tribes, and the seizure of the Roman fortress was resolved on. We\ngathered at nightfall and drove in the outposts. But the garrison was now\nroused. We were beaten down by a storm of darts and javelins, and must\nhave been undone but for your appearance. In the first onset, Eleazar,\nwhile cheering us to the charge, was struck by a stone from an engine.\nI saw him fall among a circle of the enemy, and hastened to his rescue,\nbut when I reached the spot he was gone, and my last sight of him was at\nyonder gate, as he was borne in, waving his hand\u2014his last farewell to\nNaphtali.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Moment of Execution]\n\nDeep silence followed his broken accents; he hung his head on his hand,\nand the tears glistened through his fingers. The circle of brave men\nround us wrapped their heads in their mantles. I could not contain\nthe bitterness of my soul. Years had cemented my friendship for the\nvirtuous and generous-hearted brother of my beloved. He had borne with\nmy waywardness\u2014he had done all that man could do to soften my heart,\nto enlighten my darkness, to awaken me to a wisdom surpassing rubies.\nI lifted up my voice and wept. The brazen blast of a trumpet from the\nbattlements suddenly raised all our eyes. Troops moved slowly along the\nwalls of the fortress; they ascended the central tower. Their ranks\nopened, and in the midst was seen by the torch-light a man of Israel.\nThey had brought him to that place of exposure, in the double cruelty of\nincreasing his torture and ours by death in the presence of the people.\nA universal groan burst from below. He felt it, and meekly pointed with\nhis hand to that Heaven where no tortures shall disturb the peace of the\ndeparted. The startling sound of the trumpet stung the ear again\u2014it was\nthe signal for execution. I saw the archer advance to take aim at him. He\ndrew the shaft. Almost unconsciously I seized a sling from the hands of\none of our tribe. I whirled it. The archer dropped dead, with the arrow\nstill on his bow.\n\n[Sidenote: The Rescue of Eleazar]\n\nTo those who had not seen the cause, the effect was almost a miracle. The\nair pealed with acclamation; a thousand slings instantly swept the escort\nfrom the battlements; the walls were left naked\u2014ladders were raised\u2014ropes\nwere slung\u2014axes were brandished; the activity of our hunters and\nmountaineers availed itself of every crevice and projection of the walls;\nthey climbed on each other\u2019s shoulders; they leaped from point to point,\nwhere the antelope could have scarcely found footing; they ran over\nnarrow and fenced walls and curtains, where, in open daylight and with\nhis senses awake to the danger, no man could have moved. Torches without\nnumber now showered upon all that was combustible. At length, the central\ntower took fire. We fought no longer in darkness; the flames rolled sheet\non sheet above our heads, throwing light over the whole horizon. We\nwere soon in no want of help; the tribes poured in at the sight of the\nconflagration, and no valor could resist their enthusiasm. Some cried out\nthat they saw beings mightier than man descending to fight the battle\nof the favored nation; some that the day of Joshua had returned, and\nthat a light of more than earthly luster was visible in the burning! But\nthe battle was no longer doubtful. The Romans, reduced in number by the\nstruggle in the streets, exhausted by the last attack, and aware, from\nthe destruction of their magazines, that their most successful resistance\nmust be ended by famine, called out for terms. I had but one answer\u2014\u201cThe\nlife of Eleazar.\u201d[13] The drawbridge fell and he appeared\u2014the next moment\nhe was in my arms!\n\nThe garrison marched out. I restrained the violence of their conquerors,\nirritated by the memory of years of insult. Not a hair of a Roman head\nwas touched. They were led down to the valley of Kedron, where they\nwere disarmed, and thence sent without delay under a safeguard to their\ncountrymen in Idumea. In one night the Holy City was cleared of every\nfoot of the idolater.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n_The Fall of Onias_\n\n\n[Sidenote: After the Conflict]\n\nWhile the people were in a state of the wildest triumph, the joy of\ntheir leaders was tempered by many formidable reflections. The power of\nthe enemy was still unshaken; the surprise of a single garrison, tho a\ndistinguished evidence of what might be done by native valor, was trivial\non the scale of a war that must be conducted against the mistress of\nthe civilized world. The policy of Rome was known; she never gave up a\nconquest while it could be retained by the most lavish and persevering\nexpenditure of her strength. Her treasury would be stripped of every\ntalent, and Italy left without a soldier, before she would surrender the\nmost fruitless spot, an acre of sand or a point of rock in Judea.\n\nI went forth, but not among the leaders nor among the people; I turned\naway equally from the council and the triumph. A deeper feeling urged\nme to wander round those courts where my spirit had so often turned in\nmy exile. The battle had reached even there, and the pollution of blood\nwas on the consecrated ground. The Roman soldiers, in their advance, had\ndriven the people to take refuge in the cloisters of the Temple, and the\ndead lying thickly among the columns showed how fierce even that brief\nand partial struggle had been. With a torch in my hand, I trod through\nthose heaps of what once was man to have one parting look at the scene\nwhere I had passed so many blameless hours. I stood before the porch of\nmy own cloister, almost listening for the sound of the familiar voices\nwithin. The long interval of time was compressed into an instant.\n\n[Sidenote: The Return Home of Salathiel]\n\nI awoke from this reverie with something like scorn at the idleness\nof human fancy, and struck open the door. There was no answer; but\nthe bolts, loosened by time, gave way, and I was again the master of\nmy mansion. It had been uninhabited since my flight; why, I could not\nconceive. But as I passed from room to room I found them all as if they\nhad been left but the hour before. The embroidery, which Miriam wrought\nwith a skill distinguished even among the daughters of the Temple, was\nstill fixed in its frame before the silken couch; there lay the harp that\nrelieved her hours of graceful toil; the tissued sandals were waiting for\nthe delicate feet; the veil, the vermilion mantle that designated her\nrank, the tabor, the armlets and necklaces of precious stones, still hung\nupon the tripods, untouched by the spoiler. There was but one evidence\nof time among them\u2014but that bore its bitter moral. It was the dust that\nhung heavy upon the curtains of precious needlework and chilled the\nrichness of the Tyrian purple\u2014decay, that teacher without a tongue, the\nlonely emblem of what the bustle of mankind must come to at last; the\ndull memorial of the proud, the beautiful, the brave! All was the silence\nof the tomb! With the torch in my hand, throwing its red reflection on\nthe walls and remembrances round me, I sat, like the mummy of an Egyptian\nking in the sepulcher\u2014in the midst of the things that I had loved, yet\nforever divorced from them by an irresistible law!\n\nI impatiently broke forth into the open air. The stars were waning; a\ngray streak of dawn was whitening the summit of the Mount of Olives. As\nI passed by Herod\u2019s palace and lifted my eyes in wonder at the unusual\nsight of a group of Jews keeping watch, where but the day before the\nRoman governor lorded it and none but the Roman soldier durst stand, I\nsaw Jubal hurrying out and making signs to me through the crowd, from\nthe esplanade above. I was instantly recognized, and all made way for\nmy ascent up those gorgeous and almost countless steps of porphyry that\nformed one of the wonders of Jerusalem.\n\n\u201cWe have been in alarm about you,\u201d said he hastily; \u201cbut come to the\ncouncil; we have wasted half the night in perplexing ourselves. Some are\ntimid, and call out for submission on any terms; some are rash, and would\nplunge us unprepared into the Roman camps. There are obviously many who\nwithout regard for the hope of freedom or the holiness of our cause, look\nupon the crisis only as a means of personal aggrandizement. And lastly,\nwe are not without our traitors, who confound all opinions and who are\nmaking work for Roman gold and iron. Your voice will decide. Speak at\nonce, and speak our mind; your kinsmen will support it with their lives.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Vast Assemblage]\n\nThe council was held in the amphitheater of the palace. The heads of\nfamilies and principal men of the people had crowded into it until the\ncouncil, instead of the privacy of a few chieftains, assumed the look\nof a great popular assembly. Tens of thousands had forced themselves\ninto the seats; every bosom responding to every accent of the orator, a\nmighty instrument vibrating through all its strings to the master\u2019s hand.\nAccustomed as I was, by the festivals of our nation, to the sight of\ngreat bodies of men swayed by a common impulse, I stopped in astonishment\nat the entrance of the colossal circle. Three-fourths of it was almost\ntotally dark, giving a shadowy intimation of human beings by the light\nof a few scattered torches, or the feeble dawn that rounded the extreme\nheight with a ring of pale and moon-like rays. But in the center of the\narena a fire blazed, and showed the leaders of the deliberation seated in\nthe splendid chairs once assigned to the Roman governors and legionary\ntribunes. Eleazar filled the temporary throne.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cThe archer dropped dead, with the arrow still on his bow.\u201d\n\n [_see page 60._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The Shadow of Rome]\n\nThe chief man of the land of Ephraim was haranguing the assembly as I\nentered. \u201cGo to war with Rome!\u201d[14] pronounced he; \u201cyou might as well go\nto war with the ocean, for her power is as wide; you might as well fight\nthe storm, for her vengeance is as rapid; you might as well call up the\narmies of Judea against the pestilence, for her sword is as sweeping, as\nsudden, and as sure. Who but madmen would go to war without allies? and\nwhere are yours to be looked for? Rome is the mistress of all nations.\nWould you make a war of fortresses? Rome has in her possession all your\nwalled towns. Every tower from Dan to Beersheba has a Roman banner on its\nbattlements. Would you meet her in the plain? Where are your horsemen?\nThe Roman cavalry would be upon you before you could draw your swords,\nand would trample you into the sand. Would you make the campaign in the\nmountains? The Roman generals would disdain to waste a drop of blood upon\nyou; they would only have to block up the passes and leave famine to do\nthe rest. Harvest is not come, and if it were, you dare not descend to\nthe plains to gather it. You are told to rely upon the strength of the\ncountry. Have the fiery sands of the desert, or the marshes of Germany,\nor the snows of Scythia, or the stormy waters of Britain defended\n_them_? Does Egypt, within your sight, give you no example? A land of\ninexhaustible fertility, crowded with seven millions of men passionately\ndevoted to their country, opulent, brave, and sustained by the countless\nmillions of Africa, with a country defended on both flanks by the\nwilderness, in the rear inaccessible to the Roman, exposing the narrowest\nand most defensible front of any nation on earth; yet Egypt, in spite of\nthe Libyan valor and the Greek genius, is garrisoned at this hour by a\nsingle Roman legion! The Roman bird grasping the thunder in its talons,\nand touching with one wing the sunrise and with the other the sunset,\nthrows its shadow over the world. Shall we call it to stoop upon us? Must\nwe spread for it the new banquet of the blood of Israel?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Influence of Onias]\n\nHow different is the power of speech upon men sitting in the common,\npeaceful circumstances of public assemblage, from its tyranny over\nminds anxious about their own fates! All that I had ever seen of public\nexcitement was stone and ice to the burning interest that hung upon every\nword of the orator. The name of Onias was famous in Judea, but I now saw\nhim for the first time. His had been a life of ambition, compassed often\nby desperate means, and wo be to the man who stood between him and his\nobject. By the dagger and by subserviency to the Roman procurators he\nhad risen to the highest rank below the throne. In the distractions of a\ntime which broke off the regular succession of the sons of Aaron, Onias\nhad even been High Priest; but Eleazar, heading the popular indignation,\nhad expelled him from the Temple after one month of troubled supremacy. I\ncould read his history in the haughty figure and daring yet wily visage\nthat stood in bold relief before the central flame. But to the assemblage\nhis declamation had infinite power; they listened as to the words of life\nand death; they had come, not to delight their ears with showy periods,\nbut to hear what they must do to escape that inexorable fury which might\nwithin a few days or hours be let loose upon every individual head. All\nwas alternately the deepest silence and the most tumultuous agitation.\nAt his strong appeals they writhed their athletic forms, they gnashed\ntheir teeth, they tore their hair; some crouched to the ground with their\nfaces buried in their hands, as if shutting out the coming horrors; some\nstarted upright, brandishing their rude weapons and tossing their naked\nlimbs in gestures of defiance; some sat bending down and throwing back\ntheir long locks, that not a syllable might escape; others knelt, with\ntheir quivering hands clasped and their pallid countenances turned up in\nagony of prayer. Many had been wounded, and their foreheads and limbs,\nhastily bound up, were still stained with gore. Turbans and robes, rent\nand discolored with dust and burning, were on every side, and the whole\nimmense multitude bore the look of men who had but just struggled out of\nsome great calamity to find themselves on the verge of one still more\nirremediable.\n\nThe orator found that his impression was made, and he hastened to the\nclose. For this he reserved the sting. \u201cIf it be the desire of those\nwho seek the downfall of Judah that we should go to war, let it be the\nfirst wisdom of those who seek its safety to disappoint, to defy, and to\ndenounce them.\u201d The words were followed by a visible movement among the\nhearers. \u201cLet an embassy be instantly sent to the proconsul,\u201d said he,\n\u201clamenting the excesses of the night and offering hostages for peace.\u201d\nThe silence grew breathless; the orator, wrapped in his robe, and bending\nhis head, like a tiger crouching, waited for the work of the passions;\nthen suddenly starting up and fixing his stormy gaze full on Eleazar,\nthundered out: \u201cAnd at the head of those hostages, let the incendiary who\ncaused this night\u2019s havoc be sent, and sent in chains!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Turns the Tide]\n\nThe words were received with fierce applause by the assemblage, and\ncrowds rushed into the arena to enforce them by the seizure of Eleazar.\nI glanced at him; his life hung by a hair, but not a feature of his\nnoble countenance was disturbed. I sprang upon the pavement at the foot\nof the throne; every moment was precious; the multitude were raging\nwith the fury of wild beasts. My voice was at length heard; the name of\nSalathiel had become powerful, and the tumult partially subsided. My\nwords were few, but they came from the heart. I asked them, was it to be\nthought of that they should deliver up men of their own nation, of their\npurest blood, the last scions of the noblest families of Israel, into\nthe hands of the idolater! And for what crime? For an act which every\ntrue Israelite would glory to have done: for rescuing the altar of the\nliving God from pollution. I bade them beware of dipping their hands in\nrighteous blood, for the gratification of a revenge that had for twenty\nyears poisoned the breast of a hoary traitor to his priesthood and his\ncountry. There was a dead silence. I continued:\n\n\u201cWe are threatened with the irresistible power of Rome. Are we to forget\nthat Rome is at this moment torn with internal miseries, her provinces in\nrevolt, her senate decimated, her citizens turned into a mass of jailers\nand prisoners, and, darkest sign of degradation, that Nero is upon her\nthrone?\u201d The multitude began to be moved.\n\n\u201cWhom,\u201d said I, \u201chave we conquered this night? A Roman garrison. Where\nhave we conquered them? In the midst of their walls and machines. By\nwhom was the conquest achieved? By the unarmed, undisciplined, unguided\nmen of Israel. The shepherd and the tiller of the ground, with but the\nstaff and sling, smote the cuirassed Roman, as the son of Jesse smote the\nPhilistine!\u201d\n\nThe native bravery of the people lived again, and they shouted, in the\nlanguage of the Temple: \u201cGlory to the King of Israel! Glory to the God of\nDavid!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Declaration of War]\n\nOnias saw the tide turning, and started from his seat to address the\nassembly; but he was overpowered with outcries of anger. Furious at the\nloss of his fame and his revenge, he rushed through the arena toward\nthe spot where I stood. Jubal, ever gallant and watchful, bounded to my\nside, and seizing the traitor\u2019s hand in the act of unsheathing a dagger,\nwrested the weapon from him, and was ready to plunge it in his heart at\na sign from me. Eleazar\u2019s sonorous voice was then first heard. \u201cLet no\nviolence be done upon that slave of his passions. No Jewish blood must\nstain our holy cause. Return, Onias, to your tribe, and give the rest of\nyour days to repentance.\u201d Jubal cast the baffled homicide from his grasp\nfar into the crowd.\n\nThe universal echo now was \u201cwar!\u201d \u201cRuin to the idolater. War for the\nTemple.\u201d \u201cWar,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cis wisdom, honor, security. Let us bow our\nnecks again, and we shall be rewarded by the ax. The Romans never forgive\nuntil the brave man who resists is either a slave or a corpse; the work\nof this night has put us beyond pardon, and our only hope is in arms,\nthe appeal to that sovereign justice before which nothing is strong but\nvirtue, truth, and patriotism. War is inevitable.\u201d\n\nMy words, few as they were, rekindled the chilled ardor of the national\nheart. They were followed by shouts for instant battle. \u201cWar against\nthe world! liberty to Israel!\u201d Some voices began a hymn; the habits of\nthe people prepared them for this powerful mode of expressing their\nsympathies. The whole assembly spontaneously stood up and joined in the\nhymn. The magnificent invocation of David, \u201cLet God arise, and let his\nenemies be scattered,\u201d ascended in solemn harmonies on the wings of the\nmorning. It was heard over the awaking city, and answered; the chant of\nglory spread to the encampments on the surrounding hills, and in every\npause we heard the responses rolling on the air in rich thunder.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n_The Strength of Judea_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Spirit of War]\n\nThe result of our deliberation was that Israel should be summoned to\nmake a last grand effort; that Jerusalem should be left with a strong\ngarrison, as the center of the armies; and that every chieftain should\nset forth to stir up the energies of his people.\n\nEleazar and his kinsmen were instantly upon the road to the mountains,\nand all was haste and that mixture of anxiety and animation which makes\nall other life tasteless and colorless to the warrior. With what new\nvividness did the coming conflict invest the varied and romantic country\nthrough which we had already journeyed so often! The hill, the ravine,\nthe superb sweep of forest that we once looked on with but the vague\nindulgence of the picturesque eye, now filled us with the vision of camps\nand battles. Hunters of the lion, we had felt something of this interest\nin tracing the ground where we were to combat the kingly savage. But what\nwere the triumphs of the chase to the mighty chances of that struggle in\nwhich a kingdom was to be the field and the Roman glory the prey!\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Reflects]\n\nMan is belligerent by nature, and the thought of war summons up\nsensations and even faculties within him that in the common course of\nlife would have been no more discoverable than the bottom of the sea; the\nmoral earthquake must come to open the heart for all men to gaze upon.\nEven Eleazar\u2019s calm and grave wisdom felt the spirit of the time, and\nhe reasoned on the probabilities of the struggle with the lofty ardor\nof a king preparing to win a new throne. Jubal\u2019s sanguine temper was\nunrestrainable; he was the war-horse in the sight of the banners; his\nbronzed cheek glowed with hope and exultation. He saw in every cloud of\ndust a Roman squadron, and grasped his lance and wheeled his foaming\ncharger with the eager joy of a soldier longing to assuage his thirst for\nbattle.\n\nThe weight on my melancholy mind was beyond the power of chance or time\nto remove, but a new strength was in the crisis. The world to me was\ncovered with clouds eternal, but it was now brightened by a wild and\nkeen luster; I saw my way by the lightning. An irresistible conviction\nstill told me that the last day of Israel was approaching, and that no\nsacrifice of valor or victory could avert the ruin. In the midst of the\nloudest exhilaration of the fearless hearts around me, the picture of the\ncoming ruin would grow upon my eyes.[15] I saw my generous friends perish\none by one; my household desolate; every name that I ever loved passed\naway. When I bent my eyes round the horizon luxuriating in the golden\nsunshine of the east, I saw but a huge altar, covered with the fatal\nofferings of a slaughtered people.\n\n[Sidenote: The Memory of Past Years]\n\nAnd this was seen, not with the misty uncertainty of a mind prone to\ndreams of evil, but with a clearness of foresight, a distinct and defined\nreality, that left no room for conjecture. Yet\u2014and here was the bitterest\npart of my meditation\u2014what was all this ruin to me? What were those men\nand women and households and lands but as the leaves on the wind to me! I\nmight strive in the last extremities of their struggle. I might undergo\nthe agonies of death with them a thousand times; and I inwardly pledged\nmyself never to desert their cause while through pain or sorrow I could\ncling to it; but this devotion, however protracted, must have an end. I\nmust see the final hour of them all, and more unhappy, more destitute,\nmore undone than all, I must be deprived of the consolation of making\nmy tomb with the righteous and laying my weary heart in the slumbers of\ntheir grave! Still, I experienced more than the keenest fervor of the\nimpulse which was now burning around me. With me it was not kingly care,\nnor the animal ardency of the soldier. It was the high stimulation of\nsomething like the infusion of a new principle of existence. I felt as if\nI had become the vehicle of a descended spirit. A ceaseless current of\nthought ran through my brain. Old knowledge that I had utterly forgotten\nrevived in me with spontaneous freshness. Casual impressions and long\npast years arose, with their stamps and marks as clear as if a hoard of\nmedals had been suddenly brought to light and thrown before me. I ran\nover in my recollection persons and names with painful accuracy. The\nconceptions of those for whom I once felt habitual deference were now\nseen by me in their nakedness. All that was habitual was passed away; I\nsaw intuitively the vanity and giddiness, the inconsequential reasoning,\nthe bewildering prejudice, that made up what in other days I had called\nthe wisdom of the wise.\n\nAs I threw out in the most unpremeditated language the ideas thus\nglowing and struggling for escape, I found that the impression of some\nextraordinary excitement in me was universal. Accustomed to be heard with\nthe attention due to my rank, I now saw the eyes of my fellow travelers\nturned on me with an evident and deferential surprise. When I talked of\nthe hopes of the country, of the resources of the enemy, of the kingdoms\nthat would be ready to make common cause with us against the galling\ntyranny of Nero, of the glory of fighting for our altars, and of the\nimperishable honors of those whose blood earned peace for their children,\nthey listened as to something more than man. \u201cWas I the prophet delegated\nat last to lead Judea to her glory?\u201d\n\nAt those discourses, bursting from my lips with unconscious fire, the old\nmen would vow the remnant of their days to the field; the young would\nsweep over the country performing the evolutions of the Roman cavalry,\nthen return brandishing their weapons and demanding to be let loose on\nthe first cohort that crossed the horizon. With me every pulse now was\nwar. The interest which this new direction of our minds gave to all\nthings grew more intense. I spurred to the barren heath; it had now no\ndeformity, for upon it I saw the spot from which battle might be offered\nto an army advancing through the valley below. The marsh that spread\nits yellow stagnation over the plain might be worth a province for the\nprotection of my camp. The thicket, the broken bank of the torrent, the\nbluff promontory, the rock, the sand, every repellent feature of the\nlandscape was invested with the value of a thing of life and death, a\nportion of the great stake in the game that was so soon to be played for\nrestoration or ruin.\n\n[Sidenote: The Land of Judea]\n\nThose are the delights of soldiership, the indescribable and brilliant\ncolorings which the sense of danger, the desire for fame, and the hope of\ntriumph throw over life and nature. Yet, if war was ever to be forgiven\nfor its cause, to be justified by the high remembrances and desperate\ninjuries of a people, or to be encouraged by the physical strength of\na country, it was this, the final war of Israel. In all my wanderings\nI have seen no kingdom, for defense, equal to Judea.[16] It had in the\nhighest degree the three grand essentials, compactness of territory,\ndensity of population, and strength of frontier. If I were at this hour\nto be sent forth to select from the earth a kingdom, I should say, even\nextinguishing the recollections of my being and the love which I bear to\nthe very weeds of my country\u2014for beauty, for climate, for natural wealth,\nand for invincible security, give me Judea!\n\nThe Land of Promise had been chosen by the Supreme Wisdom for the\ninheritance of a people destined to be unconquerable while they continued\npure. It was surrounded on all sides but one by mountains and deserts,\nand that one was defended by the sea, which at the same time opened\nto it the intercourse with the richest countries of the west. On the\nnorth, opposed to the vast population of Asia Minor, it was protected\nby the double range of the Libanus and Antilibanus, a region of forests\nand defiles at all seasons almost impassable to chariots and cavalry,\nand during winter barred up with torrents and snows. The whole frontier\nto the east and south was a wall of mountain rising from a desert\u2014a\ndurable barrier over which no enemy, exhausted by the privations of an\nAsiatic march, could force their way against a brave army waiting fresh\nwithin its own confines. But even if the Syrian wastes of sand and the\nfiery soil of Arabia left the invaders strength to master the mountain\ndefenses, the whole interior was full of the finest positions for defense\nthat ever caught the soldier\u2019s eye.\n\n[Sidenote: The Preparations for War]\n\nAll the mountains sent branches through the champaign. As we spurred up\nthe sides of Carmel, we saw an horizon covered with cloud-like hills.\nEvery city was built on an eminence and capable of being instantly\nconverted into a fortress. But while an army kept the field, the larger\noperations of strategy would have found matchless support in the course\nof the Jordan, the second defense of Judea; a line passing through the\nwhole central country from north to south, with the lake of Tiberias and\nthe lake Asphaltites at either extreme, at once defending and supplying\nthe movements in front, flank, and rear.\n\nThe territory thus defensible had an additional and superior strength in\nthe character and habits of its population. In a space of two hundred\nmiles long by a hundred broad, its inhabitants once amounted to nearly\nfour millions, tillers of the soil, bold tribes, invigorated by their\nlife of industry and connected with one another by the most intimate and\nfrequent intercourse, under the divine command. By the law of Moses\u2014may\nhe rest in glory!\u2014every man from twenty to sixty was liable to be called\non for the general defense; and the customary armament of the tribes was\nappointed at six hundred thousand men!\n\nThe munitions of war were in abundance. All the varieties of troops\nknown in the ancient armies were to be found in Judea, in the highest\ndiscipline; from the spearsman to the archer and the slinger, from the\nheavy-armed soldier of the fortress to the ranger of the desert and the\nmountain. Cavalry was prohibited, for the great purpose of the Jewish\narmament was defense. The spirit of the Jewish code was peace. By the\nprohibition of cavalry, no conquests could be made on the bordering\nkingdoms of interminable plains. The command that the males of the tribes\nshould go up thrice in the year to the great festivals of Jerusalem was\nequally opposed to the encroachments on the neighboring states. It was\nnot until Israel had abandoned the purity of the original covenant with\nHeaven that the evils of ambition or tyranny were felt within her borders.\n\nIsrael\u2019s whole policy was under a divine sanction, and her whole\npreservation was distinguished by the perpetual agency of miracle, for\nthe obvious purpose of compelling the people to know the God of their\nfathers. But the physical strength of such a people in such a territory\nwas incalculable. Severity of climate will not ultimately repel an\ninvader, for that severity scatters and exhausts the native population.\nDifficulties of country have always been overcome by a daring invader in\nthe attack of a feeble or negligent people. To what nation were their\nsnows, their marshes, or their sands a barrier against the great armies\nof the ancient or the modern world? The Alps and the Pyrenees have been\npassed as often as they have been attempted. But no empire can conquer\na nation of millions of men determined to resist; no army that could be\nthrown across the frontier would find the means of penetrating through a\ncompact population, of which every man was a soldier and every soldier\nwas fighting for his own.\n\n[Sidenote: The Effect of Determined Resistance]\n\nThe Jew was, by his law, a free proprietor of the soil.[17] He was no\nserf, no broken vassal. He inherited his portion of the land by an\nirrevocable title. Debt, misfortune, or time could not extinguish his\nright. Capable of being alienated from him for a few years, the land\nwas returned to him at the Jubilee. He was then once more a possessor,\nthe master of a competence, and restored to his rank amongst his fellow\nmen. This bond, the most benevolent and the strongest that ever bound\nman to a country, was the bond of the Covenant. If Israel had held the\ninstitutions of her lawgiver inviolate, she would have seen the Assyrian,\nthe Egyptian, and the Roman, with all their multitudes, only food for\nthe vulture. But we were a rebellious people; we sullied the purity of\nthe Mosaic ordinances; we abandoned the sublime ceremonial of divine\nworship for the profligate rites of paganism; we rejected the Lord of the\ntheocracy for the pomps of an earthly king. Then the mighty protection\nthat had been to us as an eagle\u2019s wings and as a wall of fire was\nwithdrawn. Our first punishment was by our own hand; the union of Israel\nwas a band of flax in the flame. The tribes revolted. The time was come\nfor the hostile idolater to do his work. We were overwhelmed by enemies\nin alliance with our own blood. The banners of Jacob were seen waving\nbeside the banners of Ashtaroth and Apis. An opening was made into the\nbosom of the land for all invasion; the barriers of the mountain and the\ndesert were in vain; the proverbial bravery of the Jew only rendered his\nchain more severe; and the policy that of old united the highest wisdom\nwith the most benevolent mercy became at once the scoff and problem of\nthe pagan world.\n\n[Sidenote: The Land of Invasion]\n\nBut opulence, salubrity, and luxuriance of production belonged to the\nsite of the land of Israel. It lay central between the richest regions of\nthe world. It was the natural road of the traffic of India with the west;\nthat traffic which raised Tyre and Sidon from rocks and shallows on a\nfragment of the shore of Judea into magnificent cities, and which was yet\nto raise into political power and unrivaled wealth the rocks and shallows\nof the remotest shore of the Mediterranean. Our mountain ranges tempered\nthe hot winds from the wilderness. The sea cooled the summer heats with\nthe living breeze, and tempered the chill of winter. Our fields teemed\nwith perpetual fruits and flowers.\n\nThe extent of the land, tho narrow, when contrasted with the surrounding\nkingdoms, was yet not to be measured by its lineal boundaries;[18] a\ncountry intersected everywhere by chains of hills capable of cultivation\nto the summit, alike multiplies its surface and varies its climate. We\nhad at the foot of the hill the products of the torrid zone; on its side\nthose of the temperate; on its summit the robust vegetation of the north.\nThe ascending circles of the orange-grove, the vineyard, and the forest\ncovered it with perpetual beauty.\n\nThis scene of matchless productiveness is fair and fertile no more.\nFor ages before my eyes opened on the land of my fathers the national\nmisfortunes had impaired its original loveliness. The schism of the\ntribes, the ravages of successive invaders, and still more, the continued\npresence of the idolater and the alien in the heart of the land, turned\nlarge portions of it into desert. The final fall almost destroyed the\ntraces of its fruitfulness. What can be demanded from the soil lorded\nover by the tyranny of the Moslem, stripped of its population, and given\nup to the mendicant, the monk, and the robber?\n\nBut more than human evil smote my unhappy country. The curse pronounced\nby our great prophet three thousand years ago has been deeply fulfilled.\n\u201cThe stranger that shall come from a far land shall say, when he\nbeholdeth the plagues of the land, and the sickness that the Lord hath\nlaid upon it, the land of brimstone and salt and burning, even all\nnations shall say, Wherefore hath the Lord done this unto this land? What\nmeaneth the heat of this great anger? Then men shall say, Because they\nhave forsaken the covenant of the Lord God of their fathers!\u201d\n\nThe soil has been blasted. Sterility has struck into its heart. Whole\nprovinces are covered with sands and ashes. It has the look of an\nexhausted volcano.\n\n[Sidenote: What Might Have Been]\n\nYet, what might have been the progress of this people! The glory of\nIsrael is no fine vision of the fancy. The same prophetic word which has\ngiven terrible demonstration of its reality in our ruin declares the\nhope once held forth to our obedience. Judea was to have borne the first\nrank among nations; to have been an object of universal honor; to have\nbeen unconquerable; to have enjoyed unwearied fertility; to have been\nprotected from the casualties of the elements; to have been free from\ndisease, the life of its people continuing to the farthest limit of our\nnature. A blessing was to be upon the labors, the possessions, and the\npersons of the tribes; all Israel a holy nation in the highest sense of\nthe word\u2014a sovereign race to which the world should pay a willing and\nhappy homage.\n\nWhat must have been the operation of this illustrious instance of the\npreservative power of Heaven on the darkened empires; of the scriptural\nlights perpetually beaming from Judea; of the living, palpable happiness\nand obedience to the Supreme; of the perpetual security of the land in\nthe divine protection; of the internal peace, health, plenteousness, and\nfreedom? Man is weak and passionate, but no blindness could have hid from\nhis contemplations this proof of the human value of virtue.\n\n[Sidenote: The Influence of Judea]\n\nWe must add to this the direct influence of a governing people, placed\nin its rank for the express purpose of a guide to nations. Combining\nthe knowledge and devotedness of a priesthood with the actual power and\ndignity of kings; by its own constitution as safe from all encroachments\nas prohibited from all aggression; informed by the immediate wisdom and\nsustained by the visible arm of Omnipotence, Judea might have changed the\nearth into a paradise, and raised universal man to the highest happiness,\nknowledge, and grandeur of human nature!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n_The Prince of Naphtali Confronts Desolation_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Choice of a Leader]\n\nWar was now inevitable. Attempts had been made by our rulers to\npropitiate the Roman emperor, but their answer was the march of a legion\nto Jerusalem. The seizure of some of the people who had made themselves\nconspicuous in the late capture of the citadel followed, and an order was\ndespatched to the governor of Galilee for the execution of Eleazar. His\ntribe instantly assembled and all voices were for resistance. My noble\nkinsman, still pacific, offered himself as the victim. But this generous\nsacrifice we all denounced, and called for war. The appointment of a\nleader was next debated in a hurried assemblage, to which every head of a\nvillage came in arms. No man could contest the command with Eleazar. But\nhe declined it from a sense of his inexperience in war in a few simple\nwords.\n\nThen, suddenly bursting into ardor, he exclaimed: \u201cOur war is holy! It is\nnot to be hazarded on the claims of hereditary rank, personal freedom,\nor even on national favoritism. The only claims which the nation must\nacknowledge in its extremity are the rights of tried talent, experienced\nintrepidity, and unquestionable service. Such a leader stands among us\nat this moment.\u201d Every eye was turned upon _me_. \u201cYes,\u201d exclaimed my\nnoble kinsman, \u201cyou have already made your choice. Genius, valor, and\nsuccess have combined to mark one man for the leader of Israel. He is\nworthy of the diadem.\u201d Then turning to me and lifting his hand, as if he\nwas letting fall the diadem upon my head, \u201cGo forth,\u201d cried he in a tone\nof almost prophetic grandeur, \u201cGo forth, prince of Naphtali, leader of\nIsrael, to break the chains of Judah and conquer in the cause of man and\nHeaven!\u201d The words were received with acclamation.\n\nI vainly protested against the general voice, that I was a priest of the\nTemple of the house of Aaron, of the tribe of Levi, and bound to Naphtali\nonly by ties of kindred and gratitude. I was answered by a multitude of\nvoices that my summons was actually in the service of the Temple; that\nwar extinguished all office but that of defending the country; that I had\nlong retired from the duties of the priesthood; that Moses was at once\nthe priest and the leader; that Samuel was at once the prophet and the\nsovereign of Israel; above all, that I had shown myself, by daring and\nsuccess, almost superior to man, the Heaven-elected leader of Israel.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Becomes a Leader]\n\nI acknowledged that my heart was with the answerers, and I at length gave\nway to what even I believed to be the will of more than man. A thousand\nfalchions, wielded by as sinewy hands as ever drew sword, were instantly\nmoved round my head. I was placed on a shield, and in this ancient\nfashion of our countrymen I was inaugurated prince of Naphtali. This was\none of the blinding flashes that broke in from time to time on my gloomy\ncareer. When the assemblage dispersed and I returned toward my mountain\nhome, I was still in the excitement of the scene. I even began to imagine\nthat my terrible sentence was about to be lightened, perhaps to pass\naway; my station in life was now fixed; services of the highest rank in\nthe noblest cause were before me, and I felt myself exclaiming, even to\nthe solitude, \u201cI am prince of Naphtali!\u201d[19] My exultation was soon to\nhave a fall.\n\nIt was the evening of one of the freshest days of the loveliest season of\nearth, the spring of Palestine. All nature was clothed with its robe of\ngenial beauty; the olives on the higher grounds had put forth their first\ngreen, and with every slight gust that swept across them heaved like\nsheets of emerald; the birds sang in a thousand notes from every bush;\nthe sheep and camels lay in the meadows visibly enjoying the sweet air;\nthe shepherds sat gathered together on the side of some gentle eminence,\ntalking, or listening to the songs of the maidens who came in long lines\nto the fountains below. The heavens gave prospect of a glorious day in\nthe colors shown only to the Oriental eyes; hues so brilliant that many\na traveler stops on the verge of the valleys arrested, in his haste\nhomeward, by the pomp above. All was the loveliness and joy of pastoral\nlife, in the only country where I ever found it realized. The mind is\nto be medicined by natural loveliness, and mine was doubly cheered. To\nreturn to our home is at all times a delight; but the new conjuncture,\nthe high hopes of the future, and the consciousness that a career of the\nmost distinguished honors might be opening before my steps, made this\nreturn more vivid than all the past; and when we reached the foot of\nthe long ascent from which my dwelling was visible I felt an impatience\nbeyond restraint, and spurred up the hill with my tidings. How fine the\near becomes when quickened by the heart! As the mountain road, now more\ndifficult by the darkness of the wild pines and cedars that crowned\nthe summit, compelled me to slacken my pace, I thought that I could\ndistinguish the household voices, the barking of my hounds, and the laugh\nof the retainers and peasantry that during the summer crowded my doors.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Daughters]\n\nI pictured the dearer group that had so often welcomed me. The early and\ncruel loss of my son had not been repaired. I was not destined to be the\nfather of a race; but two daughters were given to me, and in the absence\nof all ambition, they were more than a recompense. Salome, the elder, was\nnow approaching womanhood; she had the dark eyes and animated beauty of\nher mother; the foot of the antelope was not lighter; and her wreathed\nsmile, her laugh of innocence, and her buoyancy of soul forbade sorrow\nin her sight. How changed I afterward saw that face of living joy! What\nfloods of sorrow bathed those cheeks, that once shamed the Persian rose!\n\nThe younger was scarcely more than a child; her mind and her form were\nyet equally in the bud, but she had an eye of the deepest azure, a living\nstar; and even in her playfulness there was an elevation, a lofty and\nfervent spirit, that made me often forget her years. She was mistress of\nmusic almost by nature, and the cadences and rich modulations that poured\nfrom her harp, under fingers slight and feeble, as if the stalks of\nflowers had been flung across the strings, were like secrets of harmony\ntreasured for her touch alone. Our prophets, the true masters of the\nsublime, were her rapturous study. Their truths might yet be veiled, but\ntheir genius blazed broad upon her sensitive soul.\n\n[Sidenote: A Sound in the Thicket]\n\nI pictured my children hastening through the portal, hand in hand with\ntheir noble mother, still in the prime of matronly beauty, to give me\nwelcome. The light thickened, and the intricacy of the forest impeded\nme. At length, wearied by the delay, I sprang from my horse, left him to\nmake his way as best he could, and pushed forward through a thicket which\ncrept round the skirts of the forest. As I struggled onward, listening\nwith sharpened anxiety for every sound of home, I heard a noise like that\nof a wild beast rustling close at my side. The thicket was now dark. My\neyes were useless. I drew my simitar, and plunged it straight before me.\nThe blow was instantly followed by a shriek. Friend or enemy, silence\nwas now impossible, and I demanded who was nigh. I was answered but by\ngroans; my next step was on a human body. Shocked and startled, I lifted\nit in my arms and bore the dying man to an open space where the moonlight\nglimmered. To my unspeakable horror, he was one of my most favored\nattendants, whom I had left in the principal charge of my household; I\nhad slain him. I tore up my mantle to stanch his wound, but he fiercely\nrepelled my hand. In an undefined dread of some evil to my family, I\ncommanded him to speak, if but one word, and tell me that all was safe.\nHe buried his face in his mantle.\n\nIn the whirlwind of my thoughts I flung him from me, that I might go\nforward and know the good or evil; but he clung round my feet, and\nexerted his last breath to implore me not to leave him to die alone.\n\n\u201cYou have killed me,\u201d said he, in broken accents; \u201cbut it was only the\nhand of the Avenger. I was corrupted by gold. You have terrible enemies\namong the leaders of Jerusalem; a desperate deed has been done.\u201d\n\nMy suspense amounted to agony; I made another effort to cast off the\ntrammels of the assassin, but he still implored.\n\n\u201cEvil things were whispered against you. I was told that you had been\nconvicted of a horrible crime.\u201d The sound shot through my senses; he must\nhave felt the trembling of my frame, for he for the first time looked\nupon my face.\n\n\u201cMy sight is gone,\u201d groaned he, and fell back. I dared not meet the\nglance even of his clouding eyes. \u201cThey said that you were condemned to\nan unspeakable punishment and that the man who swept the world of you and\nyours did God service. In my hour of sin the tempter met me, and this day\nfrom sunrise have I lurked on your road to strike my benefactor and my\nlord. In the dark I lost my way in the thicket; but vengeance found me.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy wife, my children, are they safe?\u201d I exclaimed.\n\nHe quivered, relaxed his hold, and uttering \u201cForgive!\u201d two or three\ntimes, with nervous agony, expired.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Finds Ruin]\n\nA single bound from this spot of death placed me on a point of rock from\nwhich I had often gazed on my little world in the valley. The moon was\nnow bright and the view unobstructed. I looked down. Were my eyes dim?\nThere was no habitation beneath me; the grove, the garden, were there,\nsleeping in the moonlight; but all that had the semblance of life was\ngone! I rushed down and found myself among ruins and ashes still hot. I\ncalled aloud\u2014in terror and distraction, I yelled to the night, but no\nvoice answered me. My foot struck upon something in the grass; it was a\nsword dyed with recent blood. There had been burning, plunder, slaughter\nhere in this treasure-house of my heart; desolation had been busy in the\ncenter of what was to me life\u2014more than life. I raved; I flew through\nthe fields; I rushed back, to convince myself that I was not in some\nfrightful dream. What I endured that night I never endured again; that\nconflict of fear, astonishment, love, and misery could be contained but\nonce even in my bosom; in all others it must have been death. In the\nmoment of reviving hope I had been smitten. While my spirit was ascending\non the wings of justified ambition and sacred love of country, I had been\ndashed down to earth, a desolate and a desperate man.\n\nWhat I did thenceforth, or how I passed through that night, I know\nnot; but I was found in the morning with my robe fantastically thrown\nover me like a royal mantle, and a fragment of half-burned wood for a\nscepter in my hand, performing the part of a monarch, giving orders for\nthe rebuilding of my palace, and marshaling the movements of an army of\nshrubs and weeds. I was led away with the lofty reluctance of a captive\nsovereign, to the household of Eleazar.\n\n[Sidenote: A Fruitless Search]\n\nThe wrath and grief of my kinsmen were without bounds. Every defile\nof the mountains was searched\u2014every straggler seized; messengers were\ndespatched across the frontier with offers of ransom to the chiefs of\nthe desert, in case my family should have escaped the sword. Threats of\nsevere retaliation were used by the Roman governor of the province; all\nwas in vain. The only intelligence was from a shepherd, who, two nights\nbefore, had seen a troop which he supposed to be Arabs, ride swiftly by\nthe gates of Kuriathim, our nearest city; but this intelligence only\nadded to the misfortune. The habits of those robbers were proverbially\nsavage; they lived by the torch and the sword; they slaughtered the men\nwithout mercy; the females they generally sold into endless captivity. To\nleave no trace of their route, they slaughtered the captives whom they\ncould not carry through their hurried marches. To leave no trace of what\nthey had done, they burned the place of massacre. But this ruin was from\nother and more malignant hands!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n_The Wandering of a Mind Diseased_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Tyranny of Imagination]\n\nWhat I might have suffered in the agony of a bereaved husband and father\nwas spared me. My visitation was of another kind; dreadful, yet perhaps\nnot so preeminently wretched, nor so deeply striking at the roots of\nlife. My brain had received an overwhelming blow.[20] Imagination was to\nbe my tyrant; and every occurrence of life, every aspect of humanity,\nevery variety of nature, day and night, sunshine and storm, made a\nportion of its fearful empire. What is insanity but a more vivid and\nterrible dream? It has the dream-like tumult of events, the rapidity of\ntransit, the quick invention, the utter disregard of place and time. The\ndifference lies in its intensity. The madman is awake; and the open eye\nadministers a horrid reality to the fantastic vision. The vigor of the\nsenses gives a living and resistless strength to the vagueness of the\nfancy; it compels together the fleeting mists of the mind, and embodies\nthem into shapes of deadly power.\n\nI was mad! but all my madness was not painful. Books, my old delight,\nstill lulled my mind. I turned the pages of some volume; then fancy\nwaved her wand, and built upon its contents a world of adventure. Every\nlanguage appeared to open treasures to me. I roved through all lands;\nI saw all those eminent in rank or genius; I drank of the fountains\nof poetry; I addressed listening senates, and heard the air echo with\napplause. Wit, beauty, talent, laid their inestimable tributes at my\nfeet. I was exalted to the highest triumphs of mind; and then came my\nfate. In the midst of my glory came a cloud, and I was miserable. This\nbitter sense of defeat was a characteristic of my visions. Be the cup\never so sweet, it had a poison drop at bottom.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel in the Past]\n\nThe history of my country was most frequent on my mind. I imagined myself\nthe great King of Babylon. From the superb architecture of those palaces,\nin which Nebuchadnezzar forgot that he was but a man, I issued my\nmandates to a hundred monarchs. I saw the satraps of the East bow their\njeweled necks before my throne. I rode at the head of countless armies,\nlord of Asia, and prospective conqueror of all the realms that saw the\nsun. In the swellings of my haughty soul I exclaimed, like him, \u201cIs not\nthis the great Babylon that I have built?\u201d and like him, in the very\nuttering of the words I was cast out, humbled to the grass of the field,\nhideous, brutal, and wretched.\u2026\n\nI was Belshazzar. I sat in the halls of glory. I heard the harps of\nminstrels, the voices of singing men and women. The banquet was before\nme; I was surrounded by the trophies of irresistible conquest. Beauty,\nflattery, splendor, the delight of the senses, the keener feast of\nvanity, the rich anticipation of triumph measureless and endless, made\nme all but a god. I put the profaned cup of the Temple to my lips.\nThunder pealed; the serene sky, the only canopy worthy of my banquet and\nmy throne, was sheeted over with lightning. I swallowed the wine\u2014it was\npoison and fire in my veins. The gigantic hand came forth and wrote upon\nthe wall.\u2026\n\nThe moon, that ancient mistress of the diseased mind, strongly exerted\nher spells on mine. I loved her light, but it was only when it mingled\nsoftly with the shadows of the forest and the landscape. I welcomed\nher return from darkness as the coming of some guardian genius to shed\nat once beauty and healing on its path. Darkness was to me a source\nof terror; daylight overwhelmed me, but the gentle splendor of the\ncrescent had a dewy and refreshing influence on my faculties. I exposed\nmy feverish forehead to her beams, as if to bathe it in celestial balm.\nI felt in her gradual increase, an increase of power to soothe and\nconsole. This indulgence grew into a kind of visionary passion. I saw\nin the crescent, as it sailed up the ether, a galley crowded with forms\nof surpassing loveliness, faces that bent down and smiled upon me, and\nhands that showered treasures, to be collected by mine alone. But excess\neven of her light always disturbed me. From the full splendor of the moon\nthere was no escape; the rays smote upon me with merciless infliction; I\nfled to the woods as a hunted deer; a thousand shafts of light penetrated\nthe shade. I hid myself in the depths of my chamber; flames of lambent\nsilver, curling and darting in forms innumerable, shot round my couch.\nUpon the inequalities of the ground, or the waves of the fountain and the\nriver, serpents of the most inimitable luster, yet of the most deadly\npoison, coiled and sprang after me with a rapidity that mocked human\nfeet. If I dared to glance upward, I beheld a menacing visage distending\nto an immeasurable magnitude, and ready to pour down wrath; or an orb\nwith its mountains and oceans swinging loose through the heaven and\nrolling down upon my solitary brow.\n\n[Sidenote: The Hours of Terror]\n\nBut those were my hours of comparative happiness. I had visions of\nunspeakable terror; flights through regions of space, that left earth\nand the sun incalculable millions of miles behind; flights ceaseless,\nhopeless\u2014still hurrying onward with more than winged speed through\ninfinite worlds, and still enduring; the heart sickening and withering\nwith a consciousness of being swept beyond the bounds of living things,\nand of being doomed to this forever.\n\nThose trials changed into every shape of desperation.\n\n[Sidenote: The Increase of Gloom]\n\n\u2026 I was driven out to sea in a bark that let in every wave. I struggled\nto reach the land; I tore my sinews with toil; I saw the trees, the\nshore, the hills, sink in slow, yet sure succession; I felt in the hands\nof an invisible power, bent on my undoing. The storm subsided, the\nsun shone, the ocean was without a surge. Still I struggled; with the\nstrength of despair I toiled to regain the land\u2014to retard the viewless\nforce that was perpetually urging me further from existence. I began to\nsuffer thirst and hunger. They grew to pain, to torture, to madness. I\nfelt as if molten lead were poured down my throat. I put my arm to my\nmouth, and shuddering, quenched my thirst in my own veins. It returned\ninstantly with a more fiery sting. There was nothing in the elements to\ngive me hope\u2014to draw off thought from my own fate\u2014to deaden the venomed\nsensibilities that quivered through every fiber. The wind slept; the\nsky was cloudless; the sea smooth as glass; not a distant sail, not a\nwandering bird, not a springing fish, not even a floating weed, broke\nthe terrible monotony. The sun did not pass down the horizon. All above\nme was unvaried, motionless sky; all around me, unvaried, motionless\nocean. I alone moved\u2014still urged further from the chance of life; still\nundergoing new accessions of agony that made the past trivial. I tasted\nthe water beside me; it added fire to fire. I convulsively darted out my\nwithered hands, as if they could have drawn down the rain or grasped the\ndew. I withered piecemeal, yet with a continuing consciousness in every\nfragment of my frame!\n\n[Sidenote: Changes of the Imagination]\n\nMy visitation changed.\u2026 I wandered at midnight through a country of\nmountains. Worn out with fatigue, I lay down upon a rock. I found it\nheave under me. I heard a thunder-peal. A sudden blaze kindled the sky.\nBewildered and stunned, I started to my feet. The mountains were on\nflame; a hundred mouths poured down torrents of liquid fire; they came\nshooting in sulfurous cataracts down the chasms. The forests burned\nbefore them like a garment\u2014the rocks melted\u2014the rivers flew up in sheets\nof vapor\u2014the valleys were basins of glowing ore\u2014the clouds of smoke\nand ashes gathered over my head in a solid vault of gloom, sullenly\nilluminated by the conflagration below\u2014the land was a cavern of fire. In\nterror inconceivable, I ran, I bounded, I plunged down declivities, I\nswam rivers; still the fiery torrents hunted my steps as if they had been\ncommissioned against me alone. I felt them gathering speed on me; when\nI bounded, the spot from which I sprang was on flame before I alighted\non the ground. I climbed a promontory with an effort that exhausted my\nlast nerve. The fatal lava swept round its foot and in another instant\nmust encircle me. I ran along the edge of a precipice that made the brain\nturn; the fire chased me from pinnacle to pinnacle. I clung to the weeds\nand trunks of trees on its sides, and, in fear of being dashed to pieces,\ntremblingly let myself down the wall of perpendicular rock. Breathless\nand dying at the bottom of the descent, I glanced upward; the flame of\nthe thicket on the brow showed me my pursuer. I saw the rapid swelling of\nthe molten tide. In another moment it plunged through the air in a white\ncolumn; the valley was instantly an expanse of conflagration\u2014every spot\nwas inundated with the blaze. I flew, with scorching feet, with every\nsinew of my frame parched and dried of its substance\u2014with my eyes blinded\nand my lungs burned up by the suffocating fumes that rushed before,\naround, and above me.\n\nAt length my limit was reached. The land afforded no further room for\nflight. I stood on the verge of the ocean. Death was inevitable. I\nhad but the choice. Before me spread the world of waters, sad, dim,\nfathomless, interminable; behind me, the world of flame. By a last\ndesperate effort, I plunged into the ocean. The indefatigable lava rolled\non, mass on mass, like armies rushing to the assault. The billows shrank\nbefore the fiery shock, sheets of vapor rolled up; still the eruption\nrolled on, and the returning billows fought against it. The conflict\nshook the land; the mountain shore crumbled down; the sands melted and\nburned vitreous; the atmosphere discharged scalding torrents; the winds,\nshaken from their balance, raged with the violence of more than tempest.\nThunder roared in peals that shook the earth, the ocean, and the heavens.\nIn the midst of all I lived, tossed like a grain of sand in the whirlwind.\n\nStrange and harassing as those trials of my mind were, they had yet\ncontained some appeals to individual energy, some excitement of personal\npowers, that produced a kind, of cheering self-applause. I was Prometheus\non his rock chained and remediless, yet still resisting and unconquered.\nBut the real misery was when I was passive.\n\n\u2026 I strayed through an Egyptian city. Buildings numberless, of the most\nregal designs, rose round me; the walls were covered with sculptures of\nextraordinary richness; noble statues lined the public ways; wealth in\nthe wildest profusion was visible wherever the foot trod. Endless ranges\nof porphyry and alabaster columns glittered in the noonday sun. Superb\nascents of marble steps mounted before me, to heights that strained the\neye. Arch over arch studded with the luster of precious stones climbed\nuntil they lay like rainbows upon the sky. Colossal towers circling with\nsuccessive colonnades of dazzling brightness, ascended\u2014airy citadels,\nlooking down upon earth, and colored with the infinite dyes and lusters\nof the clouds. But all was silence in this scene of pomp. There was no\ntread of human being heard within the circuit of a city, fit for more\nthan man. The utter extinction of all that gives the idea of life was\nstartling; there was not the note of a passing bird, nor the chirp of a\ngrasshopper. I instinctively shrank from the sight of things lovely in\nthemselves, yet which froze my mind by their image of the tomb. But to\nescape was impossible; there was an impression of powerlessness upon me,\nfor whose melancholy I can find no words. My feet were chainless, but\nnever fetter clung with such a retarding weight as that invisible bond\nby which I was fixed to the spot. Ages on ages seemed to have heavily\nsunk away, and still I stood, bound by the same manacle, standing on the\nsame spot, looking on the same objects. To this I would have preferred\nthe fiercest extremes of suffering. Of all passions that dwell within\nthe heart of man, the passion for change is the most incapable of being\nextinguished or eluded.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Twilight]\n\nBut a change at length came. The sun sank. Twilight fell, shade on shade,\non tower and column until total darkness shrouded the scene of glory.\nYet, as if a new faculty of sight were given to me, the thickest darkness\ndid not blunt the eye. I still saw all things\u2014the minutest figures of\nthe architecture, the finest carving of the airy castles, whose height\nwas, even in the sunshine, almost too remote for vision. Suddenly there\nechoed the murmur of many voices, the tramping of many feet; the colossal\ngates opened and a procession of forms innumerable entered; they were of\nevery period of life, of every pursuit, of every rank, of every country.\nAll the various emblems of station, all the weapons and implements of\nmankind, all costumes, rich and strange, civilized and savage; all the\nattributes and adjuncts of the occupations of society were in that\nmighty train. The monarch, sceptered and crowned passed on his throne;\nthe soldier reining in his charger; the philosopher gazing on his volume;\nthe priest bearing the instruments of sacrifice. It was the triumph of\na power ruling all mankind; but ruling them when their world has passed\naway\u2014DEATH.\n\n[Sidenote: A Spectral Procession]\n\nWhile I gazed in breathless awe, I found myself involved in the\nprocession. Resistance was in vain. I was conscious that I might as\nwell have struggled against the tides of the ocean, or thought to stop\nthe revolution of the globe. We advanced through the place of darkness\nby millions of millions, yet without crowding the majestic avenue or\nreaching its close. I rapidly recognized a multitude of faces which I\nhad known from the models and memorials of the past ages. But the power\nthat marshaled them had no regard for time. The pale, fixed Asiatic\ncountenance of Ninus moved beside the glowing cheek and flashing eye of\nAlexander. The patriarch followed the C\u00e6sar. The thousand years were as\none day, the one day as a thousand years.\n\nAgain the whole stately train suddenly melted before the eye, and I\nwas alone, in tenfold darkness\u2014entombed. I lay in the sepulcher, but\nwith the full vividness of life, and with a perfect knowledge that\nthere it was my doom to lie forever. A miraculous foresight gave me\nthe fearful privilege of looking, into the most remote futurity. Ages\non ages unfolded themselves, with all their wonders, to tantalize me.\nI saw worlds awake from chaos and return to it in flood and flame. I\nsaw systems swept away like the sand. The universe withered with years,\nand rolled up like the parchment scroll. I saw new regions of space,\nglowing with a new creation; the angelic hierarchies rising through new\nenergies, new triumphs, new orders of existence; developments of power\nand magnificence, of sublime mercy and essential glory, too high for the\nconception of mortal faculties. Yet I was still to be entombed! No ray\nof light, no sound, no trace of external being, no sympathy of flesh or\nspirit, of earth or heaven was to reach me. The four narrow walls, the\nwinding-sheet, the worm, were my world! I seemed to lie thus, for periods\nbeyond all counting; powerless to move a limb; the sleepless, conscious,\nvivid victim of misery unspeakable\u2014the bondsman of the sepulcher!\n\n[Sidenote: A Vivid Imagination]\n\nIn those wanderings, I experienced not even the slightest recollection\nof the cause which had so sternly shaken my brain; wife, children,\ncountry, were a blank. Imagination, that strangest and most imperious\nof our faculties, whose soarings from earth to heaven may be among\nthe indications of power beyond the grave, disdains to linger on the\nrealities of our being. It delights in the commanding, the bold, the\nsuperb. In my instance it had the wildness of disease; but who has\never felt its workings, even in the dream of health, without wonder at\nits passion for the richer and more highly relieved remembrances; its\nsingular skill in throwing together the loftier portions of life and\nnature, to the total disregard of the level; its subtlety in the seizure\nof the circumstances of pain, its fabrication of adventure, at once of\nthe most regular consecutiveness, and the wildest originality; and all\ncharacterized by the same spontaneous swiftness of change and illimitable\ncommand over space and time, a power of instant flight from continent to\ncontinent, and from world to world\u2014the transit that would actually fill\nup years and ages the work of a moment!\u2014the actual moment expanding into\nyears and ages!\n\nWhat are those but the infant attributes of the disembodied spirit!\u2014the\nimperfect developments of a state of being to which time and space are\nas nothing\u2014when man, shaking off the covering of the grave, shall be\nclothed with the might of angels!\u2014the splendid denizen of Infinitude and\nEternity!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n_The Fury of a Tempest_\n\n\nAt length the past returned to my mind. Dim recollections, shadows\nthat alternately advanced and eluded me, sketches of forms and events,\nlike pictures unfinished by the pencil, lay before me, colorless and\nundefined. But day by day the outlines grew more complete, the figures\nassumed a body, they lived\u2014they moved\u2014they uttered sounds; and while to\nother eyes I was a solitary and hopeless fugitive from human converse,\nto my own I was surrounded by a circle of all that I loved, yet with a\ncontinued sense of privation, a mysterious feeling of something imperfect\nin the indulgence that dashed my cup with bitterness.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Further Wanders]\n\nWith the increase of my strength, I became a wanderer to great distances\namong the mountains. No persuasion of my kinsmen could restrain me from\nthose excursions. The mildness of a climate in which the population\nsleep in the open air, and the abundance of fruits, met the two chief\ndifficulties of traveling. I felt an irresistible impulse to penetrate\nthe mountain ranges that rose in chains of purple and azure before me.\nWith the artifice of the diseased mind, I made my few preparations in\nsecret, and with but scrip and staff, marched forth to tread hill and\nvalley, city and desert, were it to the last limit of the globe.\n\nThrough what diversities of scene or impediments of road I passed no\nrecollection remains with me. The same instinct which guides the bird\nled me to the fruit-tree and the stream, taught me where to shelter for\nthe night, and gave me sagacity enough for the avoidance of the habitual\ndangers of a route seldom tried but by the wolf and the robber.\n\nMy frame, gradually invigorated by exercise, bore me through all,\nand I scaled the chain of Libanus with an unwearied foot. There I\nreached the skirts of a region where the snow scarcely melts, even in\nthe burning summer of Syria. The falling of the leaf and the furious\nblasts that burst through the ravines told me that I had spent months\nin my pilgrimage, and that I must brave winter on its throne. Still I\npersevered. I felt a new excitement in the new difficulty of the season;\nI longed to try my power of endurance against the storm, to wrestle with\nthe whirlwind, to baffle the torrent. The very sight of the snow, as it\nbegan to sheet the sides of the lower hills, gave me a vague idea of a\nbrighter realm of existence; it united the pinnacles with the clouds; the\nnoble promontories and forest-covered eminences no longer rose in stern\ncontrast with the sky; they were dipped in celestial blue; they wore\nthe silvery and sparkling luster of the morning skies; they blushed in\nthe effulgence of the sunset, with as rich a crimson as the cloud that\ncrowned them.\n\n[Sidenote: In Sight of the Groves of Lebanon]\n\nBut all was not fantastic vision. From the summit of one of those hills\nI saw what was then worth a pilgrimage through half the world to see,\nthe cedar grove of Lebanon.[21] After a day of unusual fatigue and\nperplexity, I had found my path blocked up by a perpendicular pile of\nrock. To all but myself the difficulty might have been impracticable;\nbut my habits had given me the spring and sinew of a panther; I bounded\nagainst the marble, and after long effort, by the help of weeds and\nscattered roots of the wild vines, climbed my perilous way to the summit.\nAn endless range of Syria lay beneath; the sea and the wilderness gleamed\non my left and right; and a rich succession of dells, crowded with the\ndate, the olive, and the grape, in their autumnal dyes, spread out before\nme, as far as the eye could reach, in a land whose air is pure as crystal.\n\nA sound of trumpets and wild harmonies arose, and I discovered, at an\nalmost viewless depth below, a concourse of people moving through the\nhollows of the mountains. The tendency of man to man is irresistible;\nand that unexpected sight, where but the wild beast and the eagle were\nto have been my companions, gave me the first sensation of pleasure that\nI had long experienced. Bounding from rock to rock with a hazardous\nrapidity which arrested the crowd in astonishment and alarm, I joined\nthem, just in time to see the shafts and slings laid down, which they had\nprepared for my coming, in the uncertainty whether I were a wolf or the\nleader of a troop of mountain robbers!\n\n[Sidenote: On Scriptural Ground]\n\nThey formed one of the many caravans which annually gathered from the\nshores of the Mediterranean to worship at Lebanon. Their homage to\nsacred groves had been transmitted from the earliest antiquity, and was\nuniversal in the realms of paganism. To the Jew, worship on the hill and\nunder the tree was prohibited; but the forest that Solomon had chosen,\nthe trees of which the first Temple was built, the foliage which shaded\nthe first planters of the earth, must to the descendant of Abraham be\nfull of reverent interest. The ground was Scriptural; the fiery string\nof the prophet Ezekiel had been struck in its praise; the noblest\nraptures of our poets celebrated the glory of Lebanon; the names of the\nsurrounding landscape recalled lofty and lovely memories; the vale of\nEDEN led to the mountain of the Cedars!\n\nTo my fellow-travelers, traditions tinged by the fervid coloring of the\nOriental fancy heightened the native power of the spot. On the summits\nof the trees were said to descend at appointed times those ministering\nspirits whose purpose is to rectify the ways of man. There stooped on the\nwing the bearers of the sword against the evil monarchs; there brooded\nthe angel of the tempest; there the invisible ruler of the pestilence\nblew with his breath and nations sickened; there, in night and in the\ninterval of storms, was heard the trumpet that, before kings dreamed\nof quarrel, announced the collision of guilty empires for their common\nruin. The violation of the grove was supposed to be visited with the most\ninexorable calamity; the hand that cut down a tree for any ordinary use\nwithered from the body; all misfortunes fell upon the man; his wealth\ndisappeared, his children died in their prime; if life was suffered\nto linger in himself, it was only to perpetuate the warning of his\npunishment. Yet, there were gentler distinctions mingled with those stern\nattributes. Above the hill was the pagan entrance to the skies. Once in\nthe year, the celestial gate rolled back on its golden hinges to sounds\nsurpassing mortal music; the heavens dropped balm; the prayer offered on\nthat night reached at once the supreme throne; the tear was treasured in\nthe volume of light, and the worshiper who died before the envious coming\nof the morn ascended to a felicity, earned by others only through the\ntardy trial of the grave! Even the river, which ran round the mountain\u2019s\nfoot, bore its share of virtue; its water, unpolluted by the decays of\nautumn or the turbidness of winter, showed the preservative power of a\nsuperior spell; it was entitled the Holy Stream, and sealed vessels of\nits water were sent even to India and Italy as presents of health and\nsanctity to kings, gifts worthy of kings.\n\n[Sidenote: A Caravan of Worshipers]\n\nWhen we entered the last defile, the minstrels and singers of the caravan\ncommenced a p\u00e6an. Altars fumed from various points of the chasm above and\nthe Syrian priests were seen in their robes performing the empty rites of\nidolatry. I turned away from this perversion of human reason, and pressed\nforward through the lingering multitude until the forest rose in its\nmajesty before me.\n\n[Sidenote: The Woodland Temple]\n\nMy step was now checked in solemn admiration. I saw the earliest products\nof the earth\u2014the patriarchs of the vegetable world. The first generation\nof the reviving globe had sat beneath these green and lovely arches;\nthe final generation was to sit beneath them. No roof so noble ever\nrose above the heads of monarchs, tho it were covered with gold and\ndiamonds! The forest had been greatly impaired in its extent and beauty\nby the sacrilegious hand of war. The perpetual conflicts of the Syrian\nand Egyptian dynasties had laid the ax to it with remorseless violation.\nIt once spread over the whole range of the mountains; its diminished\nstrength now, like the relics of a mighty army, made its stand among the\ncentral fortresses of its native region; and there majestically bade\ndefiance to the further assault of steel and fire. The forms of the\ntrees seemed made for duration; the trunks were of prodigious thickness,\nsmooth and round as pillars of marble; some rising to a great height,\nand throwing out a vast level roof of foliage; some dividing into a\ncluster of trunks, and with their various heights of branch and leaf\nmaking a succession of verdurous caves; some propagating themselves by\ncircles of young cedars, risen where the fruit had dropped upon the\nground; the whole bearing the aspect of a colossal temple of nature\u2014the\nshafted column, the deep arch, the solid buttresses, branching off into\nthe richest caprices of Oriental architecture, the solemn roof, high\nabove, pale, yet painted by the strong sunlight through the leaves with\ntransparent and tesselated dyes, various as the colors of the Indian loom.\n\nIn the momentary feeling of awe and of wonder, I could comprehend why\npaganism loved to worship under the shade of forests and why the poets\nof paganism filled that shade with the presence of deities. The airy\nwhisperings, the deep loneliness, the rich twilight, were the very food\nof mystery. Even the forms that towered before the eye, those ancient\ntrees, the survivors of the general law of mortality, gigantic, hoary,\ncovered with their weedy robes, bowing their aged heads in the blast,\nand uttering strange sounds and groanings in the struggle, gave to the\nhigh-wrought superstition of the time the images of things unearthly; the\noracle, and the God! Or, was this impression but the obscure revival of\none of those lovely truths that shone upon the days of Paradise when man\ndrew knowledge from its fount in nature, and all but his own passions\nwere disclosed to the first-born of creation?\n\nThe caravan encamped in the depth of the valley, and the grove was soon\ncrowded with worshipers, in whose homage I could take no share. Fires\nwere lighted on the large stones, which had for ages served the purpose\nof altars; and the names of the Syrian idols were shouted and sung in the\nfierce exultation of a worship but slightly purified from its original\nbarbarism. As the night fell, I withdrew to the entrance of the defile\nand gave a last glance at Lebanon. In the grove, filled with fires, and\nechoing with wild music and dances of riot, I saw the emblem of my fallen\ncountry; the holiness, old as the memory of nations, profaned; yet the\nexistence preserved, and still to be preserved; Israel, once throned upon\nits mountains, now diminished of its beauty, to be yet more diminished,\nbut to live when all else perished; to be restored, and to cover its\nnative hills again with glory. I buried my face in my robe, and throwing\nmyself down by the skirt of one of the tents, gave way to meditations,\nsweet and bitter. They passed into my sleep and I was once more in the\nbosom of my family.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Demand]\n\nI heard my name pronounced! I listened; the name of my wife followed. I\nlooked to the sky, to the forest, to convince me that this was no mockery\nof the diseased mind. I was fully awake. I lifted up the corner of the\ntent. Savage figures were sitting over their cups, inflamed into quarrel;\nand, in the midst of high words and execrations, I heard their story.\nThey were robbers from Mount Amanus,[22] come equally to purify their\nhands by offering sacrifice at Lebanon, and to recompense themselves\nfor their lost time by robbing on the way home. The quarrel had arisen\nfrom the proposal of one of them to extend their expedition into Judea,\na proposal which he sustained by mentioning the success of his previous\nenterprises. My name was again sent from mouth to mouth, and I found that\nit was inscribed on some jewel which formed a part of his plunder. The\nthought struck me that this might afford a clue. I burst into the tent\nand demanded tidings of my wife and children. The ruffians started, as if\nin the presence of a specter.\n\n\u201cWhere,\u201d I repeated, \u201care my family? I am Salathiel!\u201d\n\n\u201cSafe enough,\u201d said the foremost.\n\n\u201cAre they alive?\u201d I cried; \u201clead me where they are, and you shall have\nwhatever ransom you desire.\u201d\n\nThe ruffian laughed. \u201cWhy, as for ransom, all the money has been made\nby them that is likely to be made for some time, unless the Greek that\nbought them repents of his bargain.\u201d\n\nThe speech was received with loud laughter. I grew furious.\n\n\u201cVillains, you have murdered them. Tell me the whole\u2014show me where they\nlie, or I will deliver you up to the chief of the caravan as robbers and\nmurderers.\u201d\n\nThey were appalled; with a single stride I was at the throat of the\nleading ruffian, and seized the jewel; it was my bridal present to\nMiriam! My hand trembled, my eyes grew dim at the glance. But in the next\nmoment I found myself pinioned, a gag forced into my mouth, a cloak flung\nover me, and I heard the discussion\u2014whether I was to be stabbed on the\nspot, left to die of famine, or have my tongue cut out, and thus unfitted\nfor telling secrets, be turned to gain and sold for a slave.\n\n[Sidenote: In Search of a Family]\n\nBut this was not to be my lot. The quarrel of the banditti increased with\ntheir wine; blows were given; the solitary lamp was thrown down in the\nconflict; it caught some combustible matter, and the tent was in a blaze.\nBy a violent exertion I loosened the cords from my arms, and in the\nconfusion fled unseen. The fire spread, and my last glance at the valley\nshowed the encampment turned into a sheet of fire. Alone, and exhausted\nwith deadly fatigue, I yet had but one thought, that of seeking my family\nthrough the world. I wandered on through the vast range of wild country\nthat guards Syria on the side of the desert. I was parched by the burning\nnoon, I was frozen by the keen winds of night; I hungered and thirsted,\nyet the determination was strong as death, and I persevered. I at length\nreached the foot of Mount Amanus, traversed the chain, saw from it the\ninterminable plains of Asia Minor, the desert of Aleppo, the shores\nof Tripoli, and was then left only to choose in which I should again\ncommence my hopeless pilgrimage.\n\nThere is something in great distress of mind that throws a strange\nprotection round the sufferer. I passed the Roman guards unquestioned\u2014the\nrobber left me without inquiring whether I was worth his dagger. The\nwolves, driven down by famine, and devouring all else that had life,\nneglected the banquet that I might have supplied. Yet I shrank from\nnothing, and marched on through city, cave and forest. But one evening\nthe sky was loaded with a tempest that drove even me to seek for shelter.\nI found it in one of the caverns, that so often scare the mariner\u2019s eye,\non the iron-bound shore of Cilicia.\n\nFatigue soon threw me into a heavy slumber. The weight of the tempest\ntoward midnight roused me, and from the mouth of the cavern I gazed\non the lightning that disclosed at every explosion the sea rolling in\nfoaming ridges before the gale. In the intervals of the gusts I heard,\nto my surprise, the murmur of many voices, apparently in prayer, close\nbeside me. But all my interest was suddenly fixed on the sea by the sight\nof a large war-galley running before the wind. She had neither sail nor\noar. Her masts were gone and but for the crowd of people on her deck,\nwhose distracted attitudes I could clearly see by the flashes, she looked\na floating tomb.\n\n[Sidenote: The Rescue in a Tempest]\n\nTo warn the galley of the nearness of the shore, I gathered the brushwood\nbeside me, and set it on fire. A shout from the crew told that my signal\nwas understood, and I rushed down the bed of a stream that fretted its\nway through the precipice. Before I reached the shore, I saw various\nfires blazing above, and many figures hurrying down on a purpose like my\nown. We had not arrived too soon. The galley, after desperate efforts to\nkeep the sea, had run for an inlet of the rocks and was embayed; surge\non surge, each higher than the one before, now rolled over the ill-fated\nvessel, and each swept some portion of her crew into the deep. We rushed\ninto the waves and had succeeded in drawing many to shore when a broader\nburst, the concentrated force of the tempest, thundered on the galley;\nshe was broken into splinters. Stunned and half-suffocated with the\nsurge, I grasped, in the mere instinct of self-preservation, at whatever\nwas nearest and, through infinite hazard, reached the shore with a body\nin my arms. Need I tell my terror, anxiety, hope, and joy when I found\nthat this being, whom I saw at length breathing, moving, pronouncing my\nname, falling on my neck, was Miriam!\n\n[Sidenote: Among Robbers]\n\nMy daughters, too, were rescued. The nearness of the shore saved the\ncrew, who, until they saw the fire on the rocks, had given themselves up\nto despair. The chance of help led them to steer close inland, and I was\ncongratulated as the general preserver. Miriam\u2019s story was brief. Our\ndwelling had been surrounded by a troop of robbers. The household were\nsurprised in their sleep. Resistance was vain; the rest was plunder\nand captivity. The robbers, fearful of pursuit, took the road to the\nmountains at full speed. My wife and daughters were treated with unusual\ncare, lest their beauty should be injured, and thus their value in the\nslave-market of Tripoli impaired. As the robber told me, they had been\npurchased by a merchant of Cyprus, and by him conveyed to his island to\nbe sold to some more opulent master. There they were redeemed by an act\nof equal generosity and valor, and were returning to Judea when they were\novertaken by the storm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\n_The Appeal of Miriam_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Changes of Time]\n\nWhen the first tumult of our spirits was passed, I had leisure to see\nwhat changes the interval had made in faces so loved. Miriam\u2019s betrayed\nthe hours of distress and pain that she must have passed through, but her\nnoble style of beauty, the emanation of a noble mind, was as conspicuous\nas ever. I even thought, when her eyes met mine from time to time, that\nthey shone with a loftier intelligence, as if misfortune had raised their\nvision above the things of our trivial world. My daughters\u2019 forms had\nmatured, but Salome, the elder, had to a certain degree her mother\u2019s\nlook; her glance was bright, yet she was often lost in meditation, and\nthe rapid changes of her cheek from the deepest crimson to the whiteness\nof the snow alarmed me with menaces of early decay. Esther, too, had\nundergone her revolution. But it was of the brightest texture. The seas,\nthe skies, the mountains of Greece, filled her glowing spirit with images\nof new life. She had listened with boundless delight to the traditions\nof that most brilliant of all people; the works of the pencil and the\nchisel had met her eye in a profuseness and perfection that she had never\ncontemplated before; her harp had echoed to names of romantic valor\nand proud patriotism; and as I gazed on her in those hours when in the\nfeeling that she was unobserved she gave way to the rich impulses of her\nsoul, I thought alternately of the prophetess and of the muse.\n\nThe shipwreck converted the solitary shore into a little village; the\nsailors collected the fragments of the vessel and formed them into huts;\nthe caves that ran along the level of the sands supplied habitations in\nthemselves, and by the assistance of those dwellers on the precipice, who\nhad so unexpectedly started to light, the first difficulties of a wild\ncoast were sufficiently combated. The bustling activity of the Greek\nmariners and the adroitness with which they availed themselves of all\ncontrivances for passing the heavy hour, their sleights-of-hand, sports\nand dances, their recitations of popular poems, and their boat-songs,\nkept the spot in continual animation.\n\nThis was my first contact with the actual people, and I acknowledged\ntheir right to have been distinguished among the most showy disturbers of\nmankind. The evil of the character too was displayed without much trouble\nof disguise. They habitually gamed till they had no better stake than the\nfragments of their own clothing; but they would game for a shell, for a\nstone that they picked up on the sands, for anything. They quarreled with\nas perfect facility as they gamed; the knife was out quick as lightning,\nbut to do them justice their wrath was as brief. The combatants embraced\nat a word, danced, kissed, and wept; then drank, gamed, quarreled, and\nwere sworn brothers again. But this was Greece in its lowest rank.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Meets Constantius]\n\nConstantius, the commander of the galley, was a specimen of the land\nwhich produced a Plato and a Pericles. When I first saw him led to\nme by Miriam as the champion who had restored her and her children\nto happiness, I saw virtue and manliness of the highest order in his\nfeatures. He was in his prime, but a scar across his forehead and\nthe severities of martial life had given early seriousness to his\ncountenance. But his conversation had the full spirit of the spring-time\nof life. It was incomparably various and animated, altogether free from\nprofessional pedantry; it had the interest that belongs to professional\nfeelings. Military adventure, striking traits of warlike intelligence,\nthe composition of the fleets and armies of the various states that\nfought under the wing of the Roman eagle, were topics on which his fire\nwas exhaustless. On those I listened to him with the strong sympathy of\none to whom war must henceforth be the grand pursuit; war for national\nfreedom\u2014war purified of its evil by the most illustrious cause that ever\nunsheathed the sword.\n\nHe had conversation for us all. His intercourse with the ruling lands\nof the earth gave him a copious store of recollections, picturesque and\nstrange. Esther combated and questioned the traveler. Salome listened to\nthe warrior\u2014listened and loved. He had higher topics of which I was yet\nto hear. In the inhabitants of the precipice he found a little colony of\nhis countrymen, fugitive Christians driven out by persecution, to make\ntheir home in the wilderness of nature.[23] The long range of caverns\nwhich perforated the rock gave them a roof. The fertility of the soil,\nand the occasional visit of a bark sent by their concealed friends,\nsupplied the necessaries of life, and there they awaited the close of\nthat ferocious tyranny which at length roused the world against Nero\u2014or\nawaited the end of all suffering in the grave. A succession of storms\nrendered traveling impossible and detained us among those hermits for\nsome days. I found them intelligent and, in general, men of the higher\nranks of knowledge and condition. Some were of celebrated families, and\nhad left behind them opulence and authority. A few were peasants. But\nmisfortune and, still more, principle, extinguished all that was abrupt\nin the inequality of ranks without leaving license in its stead. Jew as\nI was, and steadily bound to the customs of my country, I yet did honor\nto the patience, the humility, and the devotedness of those exiled men.\nI even once attended their worship on the first day of the week, assured\nthat the abomination of idols was not to be found there, and that I\nshould hear nothing insulting to the name of Israel.\n\n[Sidenote: A Simple Worship]\n\nThe ceremonial was simple. Those who had witnessed the heaven-commanded\nmagnificence of the Temple might smile at the bareness of walls of rock,\nfigured only with the wild herbage; or those who had seen the extravagant\nand complicated rites of paganism might scorn the few and obvious forms\nof the homage. But there was the spirit of strong prayer, the breathing\nof the heart, the unanswerable sincerity. Every violence of the mere\nanimal frame was unknown. I saw no pagan convulsion, no fierceness of\noutcry and gesture, not even the vehement solemnity of the Jew. All was\ncalm; tears stole down, but they stole in silence; knees were bowed,\nbut there was no prostration; prayers fervent and lofty were poured\nforth, but they were in accents uttered less from the lip than from\nthe soul\u2014appeals of hallowed confidence, as to a Being who was sure to\nhear the voice of children to a Father who, wherever two or three were\ngathered together, was in the midst of them.\n\nAt length the storms cleared away and the sky wore the native azure of\nthe climate. A messenger despatched to Cyprus returned with a vessel for\nthe embarkation of the Greeks. Camels and mules were procured from the\nneighboring country for our journey, and the morning was fixed on which\nwe were to separate. Yet with so much reason for joy, few resolutions\ncould have been received with less favor. Constantius almost shunned\nsociety or shared in it with a silence and depression that made his\nphilosophy more than questionable. Miriam was engaged in long conferences\nwith Salome, from which they both came away much saddened. Esther was\nthus my chief companion, and she talked of the shore, the sea, and even\nof the tempests, with heightened interest. The Greeks, sailor and soldier\nalike, loved too well the romantic ease and careless adventure of the\nplace to look with complacency on the little vessel in which they were\nto be borne once more into the land of restraint. The fugitive colony\nwere not the slowest in their regrets. They had been deeply prepared for\nhuman vicissitudes, and had humbled themselves to all things; yet such is\nthe strong and natural connection of man with man that they lamented the\nsolitude to which they must again be left, like the commencement of a new\nexile.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018Read the Scriptures. I have prayed for you. Read\u2014\u2019\u201d\n\n [_see page 109._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The Moment of Departure]\n\nThere are few things more singular than the blindness which, in matters\nof the highest importance to ourselves, often hides the truth that is as\nplain as noon to all other eyes. The cause which had deprived Constantius\nof his eloquence and Salome of her animation was obvious to every one but\nme. Nor was the mystery yet to be disclosed to my tardy knowledge. I had\nstrayed through the cliffs, as was my custom after the heat of the day,\nand was taking a last look at the sea from the edge of the precipice.\nThe sands far below me were covered with preparations for the voyage,\nwhich, like our journey, was to commence with the rising sun. The little\nvessel lay, a glittering toy, at anchor with her thread-like streamers\nplaying in the breeze. The sailors were fishing, preparing their evening\nmeal, heaving water and provisions down the rocks, or enjoying themselves\nover flagons of Syrian wine round their fires. All was the activity of a\nseaport, but from the height on which I stood, all was but the activity\nof a mole-hill.\n\n\u201cAnd is it of such materials,\u201d mused I, \u201cthat ambition is made? Is it to\ncommand, to be gazed on, to be shouted after by such mites and atoms as\nthose, that life is exhausted in watching and weariness; that our true\nenjoyments are sacrificed; that the present and the future are equally\ncast from us; that the hand is dipped in blood and the earth desolated?\nWhat must Alexander\u2019s triumph have looked to one who saw it from the\ntowers of Babylon? A triumph of emmets!\u201d I smiled at the moral of three\nhundred feet of precipice.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Alone with Miriam]\n\nA step beside me put my philosophy to flight. My wife stood there, and\nnever saw I her beauty more beautiful. The exertion of the ascent had\ncolored her cheek; the breeze had scattered her raven locks across a\nforehead of the purest white; her lips wore the smile so long absent,\nand there was altogether an air of hope and joy in her countenance that\nmade me instinctively ask of what good news she was the bearer. Without a\nword, she sat down beside me and pressed my hand; she fixed her eyes on\nmine, tried to speak, and failing, fell on my neck and burst into tears.\nAlarmed by her sobs and the wild beating of her heart, I was about to\nrise for assistance when she detained me, and the smile returned; she\nbared her forehead to the breeze, and recovering, disburdened her soul.\n\n\u201cHow many billows,\u201d said she, gazing on the sea, \u201cwill roll between\nthat little bark and this shore to-morrow! There is always something\nmelancholy in parting. Yet if that vessel could feel, with what delight\nwould she not wing her way to Cyprus, lovely Cyprus!\u201d\n\nI was surprised. \u201cMiriam! this from you? Can you regret the place of\npaganism\u2014the land of your captivity?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d was the answer, with a look of lofty truth; \u201cI abhorred the guilty\nprofanations of the pagan; and who can love the dungeon? Even were Cyprus\na paradise, I should have felt unhappy in the separation from my country\nand from you. Yet those alone who have seen the matchless loveliness of\nthe island\u2014the perpetual animation of life in a climate and in the midst\nof scenes made for happiness\u2014can know the sacrifice that must be made by\nits people in leaving it, and leaving it perhaps forever.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe crew of that galley are not to be tried by long exile. In two days\nat furthest, they will anchor in their own harbour,\u201d was my only answer.\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam Speaks of Constantius]\n\n\u201cAnd how deeply must the sacrifice be enhanced by the abandonment of\nrank, wealth, professional honors!\u2014and this is the sacrifice on which I\nhave been sent to consult my husband.\u201d\n\nI was totally at a loss to conceive of whom she spoke.\n\n\u201cOur friend\u2014our deliverer from captivity or death\u2014the generous being who,\nthrough infinite hazards, restored your wife and children to happiness\nand home\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cConstantius? Impossible! At the very age of ambition, with his talents,\nhis knowledge of life, his prospects of distinction!\u201d\n\n\u201cConstantius will never return to Cyprus in that galley\u2014will never draw\nsword for Rome again\u2014will never quit the land given by Heaven to our\nfathers, if such be the will of Salathiel.\u201d\n\n\u201cStrange. But his motives? He is superior to the fickleness that abandons\nan honorable course of life through the pure love of novelty\u2014or is he\nweary of the absurdities of paganism?\u201d\n\n\u201cThoroughly weary\u2014more than weary: he has abjured them forever and ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou rejoice me. But it was to be expected from his manly mind. You\nhave brought an illustrious convert, my beloved! and if your captivity\nhas done this, it was the will of Heaven. Constantius shall be led\nwith distinction to the Temple and be one of ourselves. Judea may yet\nrequire such men. Our holy religion may exult in such conquests from the\ndarkness of the idolatrous world.\u201d\n\nThe voice of the hermits at their evening prayer now arose and held\nus in a silence which neither seemed inclined to break. Many thoughts\npressed on my mind: the addition to our circle of a man whom I honored\nand esteemed; the accession of a practised soldier to our cause; the near\napproach of the hour of conflict; the precarious fate of those I loved\nin the great convulsion which was to rend away the Roman yoke or leave\nJudea a tomb. I accidentally looked up and saw that Miriam had been as\nabstracted as myself. But war and policy were not in the contemplations\nof the beaming countenance; nor their words on the lips that quivered\nand crimsoned before me. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, and she was in\nevident prayer, which I desired not to disturb.\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam\u2019s Candor]\n\nShe at length caught my glance and blushed like one detected; but quickly\nrecovering, said in a tone never to be forgotten: \u201cMy husband! my lord!\nmy love! would that I dared open my whole spirit to you! would that you\ncould read for yourself the truths written in my heart!\u201d\n\n\u201cMiriam!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is no reproach. But I know your strength of opinion\u2014your passion\nfor all that concerns the glory of Israel; your right, the right of\ntalents and character to the foremost rank among the priesthood\u2014and those\nthings repel me.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak out at once. We can have no concealments, Miriam; candor, candor\nin all things.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have heard the prayers of those exiles; you acknowledge\ntheir acquirements and understandings; they have sacrificed much,\neverything\u2014friends, country, the world. Can such men have been imposed\non? Can they have imposed on themselves? Is it possible that their\nsacrifices could have been made for a fiction?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps not; the question is difficult. We are strangely the slaves\nof impulse. Men every day abandon the most obvious good for the most\npalpable follies. Enthusiasm is a minor madness.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut are those exiles enthusiasts? They are grave men, experienced in\nlife; their language is totally free from extravagance; they reason with\nsingular clearness; they live with the most striking command over the\nhabits of their original condition. Greeks as they are, you see no haste\nof temper, you hear no violence of language among them. Once idolaters,\nthey shrink from the thought of idols. Now fugitive and persecuted, they\npray for their persecutors. Sharing the lair of wild beasts, and driven\nout from all that they knew and loved, they utter no complaint\u2014they even\nrejoice in their calamity and offer up praises to the mercy that shut the\ngates of earth upon their steps, only to open the gates of heaven.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Hope of Israel]\n\n\u201cI am no persecutor, Miriam. Nay, I honor the self-denial, as I doubt\nnot the sincerity of those men. But if they have thrown off a portion of\ntheir early blindness, why not desire the full illumination? Why linger\nhalf-way between falsehood and truth? It is not, as you know, our custom\nto solicit proselytes. But such men might be not unworthy of the hope of\nIsrael.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is to the hope of Israel that they have come, that they cling, that\nthey look up for a recompense\u2014a glorious recompense for their sufferings.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them then join us at sunrise, and come to our holy city.\u201d\n\n\u201cSalathiel, the time is declared when men shall worship not in that\nmountain alone, but through all lands; when the yoke of our law shall be\nlightened and the weary shall have rest; when the altar shall pass away\nas the illustrious victim has passed, and the wisdom of heaven shall be\nthe possession of all mankind.\u201d\n\nI looked at her in astonishment. \u201cMiriam, this from you! from a daughter\nof the blood of Jacob! from the wife of a servant of the Temple! Have you\nbecome a Christian?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have done nothing in presumption. I have prayed to the Source of light\nthat He would enlighten my understanding; I have, night and day, examined\nthe law and the prophets. Bear with my weakness, Salathiel, if it be\nproved weakness. But if it be wisdom, knowledge, and truth, I implore you\nby our love, nay, by the higher interests of your own soul, follow my\nexample.\u201d\n\nIt was impossible to answer harshly to a remonstrance expressed with\nthe overflowing fondness of the heart: I could only remind her of the\nunchangeable promises made to Judaism.\n\n\u201cBut it is of those promises I speak,\u201d urged she; \u201cwe have seen the day\nthat our father Abraham longed to see; that mighty Being, the Lord of\neternity, the express image of the glory of the Invisible, the hope of\nthe patriarch, the promise of the prophet, has come.\u201d\n\nI was alarmed.\n\n\u201cYet Israel is divided and enslaved, torn by capricious tyranny, and\nhurrying to the common ruin of doomed nations. Is this the triumphant\nkingdom of prophecy?\u201d\n\n\u201cSalathiel, I have doubted like you; but I have been at length convinced\nout of the mouths of the prophets themselves. Have they not declared that\nIsrael should suffer before it triumphed, and suffer too for a period\nthat strikes the mind with terror? that the King of Israel should be\nexcluded from his kingdom\u2014nay, take upon him the form of a servant\u2014nay,\ndie, and die by a death of pain and shame the death of a slave and\ncriminal?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is so written. But it is beyond our power to reconcile.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray then for the power, and it will be given to you. Ask for the spirit\nof holy intelligence, and it will enlighten you. Pride is the crime of\nour nation. Humility would take the veil from the eyes of our people.\nSalathiel, my lord, the being treasured in my heart! read the Scriptures.\nI have prayed for you. Read\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how can the promise of the kingdom be denied? It is the theme\nfirst, last, and without end of all the inspired masters of Israel. What\nsplendor and reality of history was ever more vivid and real than the\nglorious promises of Isaiah?\u201d I murmured.\n\n[Sidenote: The Coming of the Messiah]\n\n\u201cYet what force and minuteness of picturing ever excelled Isaiah\u2019s\ndescription of the lowliness, the obscurity, the rejection, the agonies,\nand the death of the Messiah? Why shall we suppose that the one\ndescription is true and the other false? Has not the same inspiration\ngiven both? Why shall we conceive that the Messiah and His kingdom\nmust appear together? We see the time of His first coming defined to a\nyear, by our great prophet Daniel. But where do we see the time of the\ntriumphant kingdom defined? Why may it not follow at a distance of ages?\nWe know that we shall stand at the latter day upon the earth and in our\nflesh shall see God. Why shall not the triumph be reserved for that day\nof glory? Are our people now fit to be a nation of kings? Or are the best\nof us, in the mortal feebleness of our nature, fit to share in a triumph\nin which angels are to minister? fit dwellers of a city from which error\nand evil are to be excluded; in which there is to be no tear, no human\nsuffering, no remembered bitterness; \u2018a city whose builder and maker\nis God\u2019; within whose walls live holiness, power, and virtue; on whose\nthrone sits the Omnipotent!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Considers Paganism]\n\nSensations to which I dared not give utterance oppressed me; my crime, my\nfate, rose up before the mental eye. I had no answer for this admirable\nwoman. Her pure zeal and her holiness of heart touched me deeply. But\nlet no man blame my stubbornness until he has weighed the influence of\nfeelings, born in a people, strengthened by their history, reenforced by\nmiracle, and authenticated by the words of inspiration. That Judaism was\npurity itself to the worship and morals of the pagan world, that it was\nthe continued object of a particular Providence, that it alone possessed\nthe revelations of God, were facts that defied doubt. And that those\nhigh distinctions should be made void, and the slavish mind of paganism\nbe admitted into our privileges\u2014still more, that it should be admitted\nto the exclusion of the chosen line\u2014seemed to me a conclusion that no\nreasoning could substantiate; a fantastic and airy fiction to which no\nreasoning could be applied.\n\nThe moon ascended in serenity, and her orb, slightly tinged by the\nmany-colored clouds that lay upon the horizon, threw a faint silver\nupon the precipice. The sounds below were hushed; the moving figures,\nthe vessel, the sea, the cliffs, were totally veiled in purple mist. We\ncould not have been more alone if we had been seated on a cloud, and the\nbeauty, the exalted gesture, and the glowing wisdom of the being before\nme were like those that we conceive of spirits delegated to lead the\ndisembodied mind upward from world to world. A sea-bird winging its way\nabove our heads broke the reverie. I reminded my teacher that it grew\nlate and our absence might produce anxiety.\n\n[Sidenote: The Secret of a Scroll]\n\n\u201cSalathiel,\u201d said she, with mingled fervor and softness, \u201cyou know I\nlove you; never was heart more fondly bound to another than is mine to\nyou. I am grateful for your permission to receive Constantius into our\ntribe. But one obligation, infinitely dearer, you can confer on me\u2014read\nthis scroll.\u201d She drew from her bosom a letter, written to his church\nby one of the Christian leaders in Asia. \u201cI desire not to offend your\nconvictions, nor to hasten you into a rash adoption of those of others.\nBut in this scroll you will find philosophy without its pride, and\nknowledge without its guile; you will find, furthermore, the disclosure\nof those mysteries which have so long perplexed our people. Read, and may\nHe who can bring wisdom out of the lips of babes, and make the wisdom\nof the wise foolishness, shed His light upon the generous heart of my\nhusband!\u201d\n\nAt another time I might have started in horror from this avowal of her\nfaith. But the scene, the circumstances, an unaccountable internal\nimpression\u2014a voice of the soul, prohibited me. I took her trembling hand,\nand without a word led her down to our dwelling.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\n_The Heart of Salome_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Again Travels Homeward]\n\nNo tidings sooner make themselves known than those of the heart. We\nfound our daughters waiting anxiously at the entrance of the cave, which\nhad been fitted up for our temporary shelter. Before a word could be\nexchanged, a glance from Miriam told the success of her mission, and\nanxiety was turned into delight. Esther danced round me and was eloquent\nin her gratitude. Salome shed silent tears, and when I attempted to wipe\nthem away, fell fainting into my arms. We spent a part of the night in\nthe open air; the last wine and fruits of our store were brought out;\nthe Cypriot exiles came down from their rocks; the crew of the galley,\nalready on board, danced, sang, and drank to the success of the voyage;\nand it was not till the moon, our only lamp, was about to be extinguished\nin the waters, that we thought of closing our final night on the Syrian\nshore.\n\n[Sidenote: A Surprising Change]\n\nWe traveled along the coast as far as Berytus; then turning to the\neastward, crossed the Libanus and the mountain country that branches into\nUpper Galilee. Our coming had been long announced, and we found Eleazar,\nJubal, and our chief kinsmen waiting at one of the passes to lead us\nhome in triumph. The joy of our tribe was honest if it was tumultuous,\nand many a shout disturbed the solitude as we moved along. My impatience\nincreased when we reached the well-known hills that sheltered what\nwas once my home. Yet I remembered too keenly the shock of seeing its\ndesolation not to dread the first sight of the spot, and rode away from\nthe group at full speed that my nervousness might have time to subside\nbefore their arrival. But at the foot of the last ascent I drew the rein.\nEvery tree, every bush, almost every stone, had been familiar to me in\nmy wanderings, and were now painful memorials of the long malady of my\nmind.\n\nEleazar, who watched me during the latter part of the journey with\nsomething of a consciousness of my thoughts, put spurs to his horse, and\nfound me standing, pale and palpitating.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said he, \u201cwe must not alarm Miriam by thinking too much of\nthe past; let us try if the top of the hill will not give us a better\nprospect than the bottom.\u201d\n\nI shrank from the attempt.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d said I; \u201cthe horror that the prospect once gave me must not be\nrenewed. Let us change the route, no matter how far round; the sight of\nthat ruin would distract me to the last hour of my life.\u201d\n\nHe only smiled in reply, and catching my bridle, galloped forward. A few\nseconds placed us on the summit of the hill. Could I believe my eyes! All\nbelow was as if rapine had never been there. The gardens, the cattle, the\ndwellings, lay a living picture under the eye.\n\n\u201cThis is miracle!\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cNo; or it is but the miracle of a little activity and a great deal of\ngood will,\u201d was the answer of my companion. \u201cYour kinsmen did this at\nthe time when you were slumbering with the wolf and bear in the Libanus;\nNature did her part in covering your fields and gardens; and those\nsheep and cattle are a tribute of gratitude from your brother for the\npreservation of his life.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Policy of Rome]\n\nOur troop now ascended the height. The land lay beneath them in the\nluxuriance of summer. They were ardent in their expressions of surprise\nand pleasure. We rushed down the defile, and I was once more master of a\nhome. Public events had rapidly ripened in my absence.[24] Popular wrath\nwas stimulated by increased exaction. Law was more palpably perverted\ninto insolence. Order was giving way on all sides. The Roman garrisons,\nneglected and ill paid, were adopting the desperate habits of the\npopulace, and in the general scorn of religion and right, the country\nwas becoming a horde of robbers. The ultimate causes of this singular\ndegeneracy might be remote and set in action by a vengeance above man;\nbut the immediate causes were plain to every eye.\n\nThe general principles of Rome in the government of her conquests were\nmanly and wise. When the soldier had done his work\u2014and it was done\nvigorously, yet with but little violence beyond that which was essential\nfor complete subjugation\u2014the sword slept as an instrument of evil, and\nawoke only as an instrument of justice.\n\nIf neighboring kingdoms quarreled, a legion marched across the border\nand brought the belligerents to sudden reason; dismissed their armies to\ntheir hearths and altars, and sent the angry chiefs to reconcile their\nclaims in an Italian dungeon. If a disputed succession threatened to\nembroil the general peace, the proconsul ordered the royal competitors to\nembark for Rome, and there settle the right before the senate.\n\nThe barbaric invasions which had periodically ravaged the Eastern empires\neven in their day of power were repelled with a terrible vigor. The\nlegions left the desert covered with the tribe for the feast of the\nvulture, and showed to Europe the haughty leaders of the Tatar, Gothic,\nand Arab myriads in fetters, dragging wains, digging in mines, or\nsweeping the highways.\n\nIf peace could be an equivalent for freedom, the equivalent was never\nso amply secured. The world within this iron boundary nourished; the\nactivity and talent of man were urged to the highest pitch; the conquered\ncountries were turned from wastes and forests into fertility; ports\nwere dug upon naked shores; cities swelled from villages; population\nspread over the soil once pestilential and breeding only the weed and\nthe serpent. The sea was covered with trade; the pirate and the marauder\nwere unheard of or hunted down. Commercial enterprise shot its lines and\ncommunications over the map of the earth, and regions were then familiar\nwhich even the activity of the revived ages of Europe has scarcely made\nknown.\n\n[Sidenote: The Absence of Genius]\n\nThose were the wonders of great power steadily directed to a great\npurpose. General coercion was the simple principle, and the only\ntalisman of a Roman Emperor was the chain, except where it was casually\ncommuted for the sword; the universality of the compression atoned for\nhalf its evil. The natural impulse of man is to improvement; he requires\nonly security from rapine. The Roman supremacy raised round him an\nimpregnable wall. It was the true government for an era when the habits\nof reason had not penetrated the general human mind. Its chief evil was\nin its restraint of those nobler and loftier aspirations of genius and\nthe heart which from time to time raise the general scale of mankind.\n\nNothing is more observable than the decay of original literature, of the\nfiner architecture and of philosophical invention, under the empire.\nEven military genius, the natural product of a system that lived but on\nmilitary fame, disappeared; the brilliant diversity of warlike talent\nthat shone on the very verge of the succession of the C\u00e6sars sank like\nfalling stars, to rise no more. No captain was again to display the\nsplendid conception of Pompey\u2019s boundless campaigns; the lavish heroism\nand inexhaustible resource of Antony; or the mixture of undaunted\npersonal enterprise and profound tactic, the statesmanlike thought,\ngenerous ambition, and high-minded pride that made C\u00e6sar the very emblem\nof Rome. But the imperial power had the operation of one of those great\nlaws of nature which through partial evil sustain the earth\u2014a gravitating\nprinciple which, if it checked the ascent of some gifted beings beyond\nthe dull level of life, yet kept the infinite multitude of men and things\nfrom flying loose beyond all utility and all control.\n\n[Sidenote: Roman Avarice]\n\nYet it was only for a time. The empire was but the superstructure of the\nrepublic, a richer, more luxuriant, and more transitory object for the\neye of the world, and the storm was already gathering that was to shake\nit to the ground. The corruptions of the palace first opened the imperial\nruin. They soon extended through every department of the state. If the\nhabitual fears of the tyrant in the midst of a headlong populace could\nscarcely restrain him in Rome, what must be the excesses of his minions\nwhere no fear was felt, where complaint was stifled by the dagger, and\nwhere the government was bought with bribes, to be replaced only by\nlicensed rapine!\n\nThe East was the chief victim. The vast northern and western provinces\nof the empire pressed too closely on Rome, were too poor and too warlike\nto be the favorite objects of Italian rapacity. There a new tax raised\nan insurrection; the proconsular demand of a loan was answered by a\nflight which stripped the land, or by the march of some unheard-of tribe,\npouring down from the desert to avenge their countrymen. The character,\ntoo, of the people, influenced the choice of their governors. Brave and\nexperienced soldiers, not empty and vicious courtiers, must command\nthe armies that were thus liable to be hourly in battle, and on whose\ndiscipline depended the slumbers of every pillow in Italy. Stern as is\nthe life of camps, it has its virtues, and men are taught consideration\nfor the feelings, rights, and resentments of man by a teacher that makes\nits voice heard through the tumult of battle and the pride of victory.\nBut all was reversed in Asia, remote, rich, habituated to despotism,\ndivided in language, religion, and blood; with nothing of that fierce,\nyet generous clanship, which made the Gaul of the Belgian marshes listen\nto the trumpet of the Gaul of Narbonne, and the German of the Vistula\nburn with the wrongs of the German of the Rhine.\n\n[Sidenote: The Discovery of Danger]\n\nUnder Nero, Judea was devoured by Roman avarice. She had not even the sad\nconsolation of owing her evils to the ravage of those nobler beasts of\nprey in human shape that were to be found in the other provinces\u2014she was\ndevoured by locusts. The polluted palace supplied her governors; a slave\nlifted into office by a fellow slave; a pampered profligate, exhausted by\nthe expenses of the capital; a condemned and notorious extortioner, with\nno other spot to hide his head, were the gifts of Nero to my country.\nPilate, Felix, Festus, Albinus, Florus, a race more profligate and cruel\nas our catastrophe approached, tore the very bowels of the land. Of the\nlast two it was said that Albinus should have been grateful to Florus\nfor proving that he was not the basest of mankind, by the evidence that\na baser existed; that he had a respect for virtue by his condescending\nto commit those robberies in private which his successor committed in\npublic; and that he had human feeling by his abstaining from blood where\nhe could gain nothing by murder; while Florus disdained alike concealment\nand cause, and slaughtered for the public pleasure of the sword!\n\nA number of partial insurrections, easily suppressed, displayed the wrath\nof the people and indulged the cruelty of the procurator. They indulged\nalso his avarice. Defeat was followed by confiscation; and Florus even\nboasted that he desired nothing more prosperous than insurrection in\nevery village of Judea. He was about to be gratified before he had\nprepared himself for this luxury!\n\nA menial in my house was detected with letters from an agent of the\nRoman governor. They required details of my habits and resources, which\nsatisfied me that I had become an object of vengeance. From the time of\nmy return I had seen with bitterness of soul the insults to my country.\nI had summoned my friends to ascertain what might be our means of\nresistance, and found them as willing and devoted as became men; but our\nresources for more than the first burst of popular wrath, the seizure\nof some petty Roman garrison, or the capture of a convoy, were nothing.\nThe jealousies of the chief men of the tribes, the terrors of Rome, the\npositions of the Roman troops, cutting off military communication between\nthe north and south of Judea, made the attempt hopeless, and it was\nabandoned for the time. Even those letters which marked me for a victim\nmade no change in my determination that if I could not escape danger by\nindividual means, no public blood should be laid to my charge. For a few\nmonths all was tranquil; the habits of rural life are calculated to keep\ndepressing thoughts at a distance. My wife and daughters returned to\ntheir graceful pursuits, with the added pleasure of novelty after so long\na cessation. I hunted through the hills with Constantius, or, traversing\nthe country which might yet be the scene of events, availed myself of the\nknowledge of a master of the whole science of Roman war.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Love for History]\n\nAt home the works of the great poets of the West, with whom our guest had\nmade us familiar, varied the hours; but I found a still more stirring\nand congenial interest in the histories of Greek valor, and in the study\nof the mighty minds that made and unmade empires.\n\nWith the touching and picturesque narrative of Herodotus in my hand, I\npantingly followed the adventures of the most brilliant of nations. I\nfought the battle with them against the Persian; I saw them gathered in\nlittle startled groups on the hills, or flying in their little galleys\nfrom island to island, the land deserted, the sea covered with fugitives;\nthe Persian fleets loaded with Asiatic pomp, darkening the waters like a\nthunder-cloud\u2014and in a moment all changed! The millions of Asia scattered\nlike dust before the wind\u2014Greece lifted to the height of martial glory,\nand commencing a career of triumph still more illustrious, that triumph\nof the mind in which, through the remotest vicissitudes of earth, she was\nto have no conqueror.\n\nI especially and passionately pursued the campaigns of that extraordinary\nman Arrian, whose valor, vanity, and fortune make him one of the\nlandmarks of human nature. In Alexander I delighted in tracing the native\nform of the Greek through the embroidered robes of royalty and triumph.\nIn his romantic intrepidity and deliberate science, his alternations of\nprofound thought and fantastic folly, the passion for praise and the\ncontempt for its offerers, the rash temper and the noble magnanimity,\nthe love for the arts and the thirst for that perpetual war before which\nthey fly, the philosophic scorn of privation and the feeble lapses into\nself-indulgence; the generous forecast, which peopled deserts and founded\ncities, and the giddy and fatal neglect which left his diadem to be\nfought for and his family to be the prey of rival rebellions,\u2014I saw the\ntrue man of the republic; not the lord of the rugged hills of Macedon,\nbut the Athenian of the day of popular splendor and folly, with only the\ndifference of the scepter.\n\nTo me those studies were like a new door opened into the boundless palace\nof human nature. I felt that sense of novelty, vigor, and fresh life\nthat the frame feels in breathing the morning air over the landscape of\na new country. It was a voyage on an unknown sea, where every headland\nadministers to the delight of curiosity. In this there was nothing of the\ncommon pedantry of the schools. My knowledge of life had hitherto been\nlimited by my original destination. A Jew and a priest, there was but one\nsolemn avenue through which I was to see the glimpses of the external\nworld. The vista was now opened beyond all limit; visions of conquest,\nof honor among nations, of praise to the last posterity, clustered round\nmy head. There were times when in this exultation even my doom was\nforgotten. The momentary oblivion may have been permitted merely to blunt\nthe edge of incurable misfortune. I was permitted at intervals to recruit\nthe strength that was to be tried till the end of time.\n\n[Sidenote: Eleazar\u2019s Disclosure]\n\nI was one day immersed in Polybius, with my master in soldiership at my\nside, guiding me by his living comment through the wonders of the Punic\ncampaigns, when Eleazar entered, with a look that implied his coming on a\nmatter of importance. Constantius rose to withdraw.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said my brother, \u201cthe subject of my mission is one that should\nnot be concealed from the preserver of our kindred. It may be one of\nhappiness to us all. Salome has arrived at the age when the daughters of\nIsrael marry. She must give way to our general wish and play the matron\nat last.\u201d\n\nHe turned with a smile to Constantius, and asked his assent to the\nopinion; he received no answer. The young Greek had plunged more deeply\nthan ever into the passage of the Alps.\n\n\u201cAnd who is the suitor?\u201d I inquired.\n\n\u201cOne worthy of her and you. A generous, bold, warm-hearted kinsman, in\nthe spring of life, sufficiently opulent, for he will probably be my\nheir, prepared to honor you, and, I believe, long and deeply attached to\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cJubal! There is not a man in our tribe to whom I would more gladly\ngive her. Let my friend Jubal come. Congratulate me, Constantius; you\nshall now at last see festivity in our land in scorn of the Roman. You\nhave seen us in flight and captivity; you shall now witness some of the\nhappiness that was in Judah before we knew the flapping of an Italian\nbanner, and which shall be, if fortune smile, when Rome is like Babylon.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Jubal\u2019s Cause]\n\nConstantius suddenly rose from his volume, and thrusting it within the\nfolds of his tunic, was leaving the apartment.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said I, \u201cyou must remain; Miriam and Salome shall be sent for, and\nin your presence the contract signed.\u201d\n\nFor the first time I perceived the excessive pallidness of his\ncountenance, and asked whether I had not trespassed too much on his\npatience with my studies.\n\nHis only reply was: \u201cIs there no liberty of choice in the marriages of\nIsrael? Will you decide without consulting her, whom this contract is to\nrender happy or miserable while she lives?\u201d He rushed from the room.\n\nMiriam came\u2014but alone. Her daughter had wandered out into one of our many\ngardens. She received Eleazar with sisterly fondness, but her features\nwore the air of constraint. She heard the mission, but \u201cshe had no\nopinion to give in the absence of Salome. She knew too well the happiness\nof having chosen for herself to wish to force the consent of her child.\nLet Salome be consulted.\u201d\n\nThe flourish of music and the trampling of horses broke up our reluctant\nconference. Jubal had already come with a crowd of his friends. We\nhastened to receive him at the porch, and he bounded into the court on\nhis richly caparisoned barb, at the head of a troop in festal habiliments.\n\nThe men of Israel loved pomp of dress and handsome steeds. The group\nbefore me might have made a body-guard for a Persian king. Jubal had long\nlooked on my daughter with the admiration due to her singular beauty; it\nwas the custom to wed within our tribe; he was the favorite and the heir\nof her uncle; she had never absolutely banished him from her presence,\nand in the buoyancy of natural spirits, the boldness of a temperament\nborn for a soldier, and perhaps in the allowable consciousness of a showy\nform, he had admitted none of the perplexities of a trembling lover.\nSalome was at length announced, and the proposed husband was left to\nplead his own cause.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\n_A Declaration of Love_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Overhears Salome]\n\nWe received the friends of our intended son with the accustomed\nhospitality, but to me the tumult of many voices, and even the sight of a\ncrowd, however happy, still excited the old disturbances of a shaken mind.\n\nI left my guests to the care of Eleazar, and galloped into the fields to\ngather composure from the air of fruits and flowers. A homeward glance\nshowed me, to my surprise, the whole troop mounted, and in another moment\nat speed across the hills. I hastened back. Miriam met me. My kinsman had\nopenly disclaimed my alliance.\n\nIndignant and disappointed, I prepared to follow him and demand the cause\nof this insult. As I passed one of the pavilions, my daughter\u2019s voice\narrested me. She was talking to Constantius. Scorning mere curiosity,\nI yet was anxious for sincere explanation. I felt that if Salome had a\nwish which she feared to divulge to her father, this was my only hope of\nobtaining the knowledge. The voices were low, and I could, for a while,\ncatch but a broken sentence.\n\n\u201cI owed it to him,\u201d said she, \u201cnot to deceive his partiality. He offered\nall that it could have done a Jewish maiden honor to receive\u2014his heart,\nhand, and fortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you rejected them all?\u201d said Constantius. \u201cHave you no regrets for\nthe lover\u2014no fears of the father?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the lover I had too high an esteem to give him a promise which I\ncould not keep. I knew his generous nature. I told him at once that there\nwas an invincible obstacle!\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like incomparably to know what that obstacle could be?\u201d said\nConstantius.\n\nAstonishment fixed me to the spot. I was unable to move a step.\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius and Salome]\n\nThe natural playfulness of the sweet and light-hearted girl became\nmanifest, and she replied \u201cthat a philosopher ought to know all things\nwithout questioning.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there is much in the world that defies philosophy, my fair Salome;\nand of all its problems, the most perplexing is the mind of woman!\u2014of\nyoung, lovely, dangerous woman!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Constantius, you abandon the philosopher and play the poet.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet without the poet\u2019s imagination. No; I need picture no beauty from\nthe clouds\u2014no nymph from the fountains\u2014no loveliness that haunts the\ntrees, and breathes more than mortal melody on the ear. Salome! my muse\nis before me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a Greek,\u201d said she, after a slight interval, \u201cand Greeks are\nprivileged to talk\u2014and to deceive.\u201d\n\n\u201cSalome! I am a Greek no longer. What I shall yet be may depend upon the\nfairest artist that ever fashioned the human mind. But mine are not the\nwords of inexperience. I am on this day five-and-twenty years old. My\nlife has led me into all that is various in the intercourse of earth.\nI have seen woman in her beauty, in her talent, in her art, in her\naccomplishment; from the cottage to the throne\u2014but I never felt her real\npower before.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich am I to believe\u2014the possible or the impossible? A soldier! a\nnoble! a Greek! and of all Greeks, one of Cyprus! the offerer of your\neloquence at every shrine where your own lovely countrywomen stood by the\naltar!\u2014I too have seen the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay all the Graces forbid that you should ever see it, but what it would\nbe made by such as you\u2014a place of gentleness and harmony\u2014a place of\nfondness and innocence\u2014a paradise!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow you are further from the philosopher than ever; but\u2014I must listen no\nmore; the sun is taking its leave of us, and blushing its last through\nthe vines for all the fine romance that it has heard from Constantius.\nFarewell, philosophy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen farewell, philosophy,\u201d said Constantius, and caught her hand as she\nwas lightly moving from the pavilion. He led her toward the casement.\n\u201cThen farewell, philosophy, my sweet; and welcome truth, virtue, and\nnature. I loved you in your captivity; I loved you in your freedom;\non the sea, on the shore, in the desert, in your home, I loved you. In\nlife I will love you, in death we shall not be divided. This is not the\nlanguage of mere admiration, the rapture of a fancy dazzled by the bright\neyes of my Salome. It is the language of reason, of sacred truth, of\nhonor bound by higher than human bonds; of fondness that even the tomb\nwill render only more ardent and sublime. Here, in the sight of Heaven, I\npledge an immortal to an immortal.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Love of Constantius]\n\nAstonishment and grief alone prevented my exclaiming aloud against\nthis bond on the affections of my child. The marriage of the Israelite\nwith the stranger was prohibited by our law, and still more severely\nprohibited by the later ordinances of our teachers. But marriage with a\nfugitive, an alien, a son of the idolater, whose proselytism had never\nbeen avowed, and whose skill in the ways of the world might be at this\nhour undermining the peace or the faith of my whole family\u2014the idea was\ntenfold profanation! I checked myself only to have complete evidence.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said my daughter, in a voice mingled with many a sigh, \u201cif this\nshould become known to my father\u2014and known it must be\u2014how can we hope for\nhis consent? Now, Constantius, you will have to learn what it is to deal\nwith our nation. We have prejudices, lofty, tho blind\u2014indissoluble, tho\nfantastic. My father\u2019s consent is beyond all hope.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is honorable\u2014he has human feeling\u2014he loves you.\u201d\n\n\u201cFondly, I believe, and I must not thus return his love; no, tho my\nhappiness were to be the forfeit, I must not pain his heart by the\ndisobedience of his child.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Salome, my sweet Salome! are obstinacy and prejudice to be obeyed\nagainst the understanding and the heart? Can a father counsel his child\nto a crime, and would it not be one to give your faith to this Jubal, if\nyou could not love him?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have decided that already. Never will I wed Jubal.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet what is it that you would disobey\u2014a cruel and fantastic scruple of\nyour teachers, the perverters of your law? Must we sacrifice reason\nto prejudice, truth to caprice, the law of nature and of heaven to the\nforgeries and follies of the Scribes? Mine you are, and mine you shall\nbe, my wife by a law more sacred, more powerful, and more pure. The time\nof bondage is passed. A new law, a new hope, have come to break the\nchains of the Jew and enlighten the darkness of the Gentile. You have\nheard that law; your generous heart and unclouded understanding have\nreceived it, and now by that common hope, my beloved, we are one, tho\nseas and mountains should separate us\u2014tho the malice of fortune and the\ntyranny of man should forbid our union; still, in flight, in the dungeon,\nin the last hour of a troubled existence, we are one. Now, Salome, I will\ngo, but go to seek your father.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Assertion]\n\nMy indignation rose to its height. I had heard my child taught to rebel.\nI had heard myself pronounced the slave of prejudice. But the open\ndeclaration that my authority was to be to my child a law no more let\nloose the whole storm of my soul. I rushed forward; Salome uttered a cry\nand sank senseless upon the ground. Constantius raised her up and bore\nher to a vase, from which he sprinkled water upon her forehead.\n\n\u201cLeave her!\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cbetter for her to remain in that\ninsensibility, better to be dead than an apostate. Villain, begone! it\nis only in scorn that a father\u2019s vengeance suffers you to live. Fly from\nthis house, from this country. Go, traitor, and let me never see you\nmore.\u201d\n\nI tore the fainting girl from his arms. He made no resistance, no reply.\nSalome recovered with a gush of tears, and feebly pronounced his name.\n\n\u201cI am with you still, my love,\u201d Constantius assured her.\n\nShe looked up and, as if she had then first seen me, sprang forward with\na look of terror.\n\n[Sidenote: The Wrath of a Father]\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said I, \u201cgo to your chamber, weak girl, and on your knees, atone\nfor your disobedience, for your abandonment of the faith of your\nfathers. But no, it is impossible; you can not have been so guilty; this\nGreek\u2014this foreign bringer-in of fables\u2014this smooth intruder on the\npeace of families, can not have so triumphed over your understanding.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been rash, sir,\u201d said Constantius loftily; \u201cI may have been\nunwise, too, in my language; but I have been no deceiver. Not for the\nwealth of kings\u2014not even for the more precious treasure of the heart I\nlove\u2014would I sully my lips with a falsehood.\u201d\n\n\u201cBegone!\u201d cried I; \u201cI am insulted by your presence. Go and pervert\nothers\u2014hypocrite; or rather, take my contemptuous forgiveness and repent,\nin sackcloth and ashes, the basest crime of the basest mind. Come,\ndaughter, and leave the baffled idolater to think of his crime.\u201d\n\nI was leading her away\u2014she hesitated, and I cast her from me.\nConstantius, with his cheek burning and his eye flashing, approached her.\nMy taunts had at length roused him.\n\n\u201cNow, Salome,\u201d said he, haughtily glancing on me, \u201cinjured as I am, I\ndisclaim an idle deference for an authority used only to give pain. You\nare my betrothed; you shall be my bride. Let us go forth and try our\nchance together through the world.\u201d\n\nShe was silent and wept only more violently. But with one hand covering\nher face, she repelled him with the other.\n\n\u201cThen you will be the wife of Jubal?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cNever!\u201d she firmly pronounced. \u201cSo help me heaven, never!\u201d\n\n\u201cRetire, girl,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cand weep tears of blood for your rebellion!\nGo, stranger\u2014ingrate\u2014deceiver\u2014and never darken my threshold more. Aye,\nnow I see the cause of my brave kinsman\u2019s departure. He was circumvented.\nA wilier tongue was here before him. He disdained to reveal the\ndaughter\u2019s folly to the insulted father. But this shall not avail either\nof you. He shall return.\u201d\n\nSalome cast an imploring glance to heaven and sank upon her knees before\nme. Constantius advanced to her; but I bounded between them\u2014my dagger was\ndrawn.\n\n\u201cTouch her, and you die.\u201d\n\nHe smiled scornfully, and approached to raise her from the ground.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Seeks Jubal]\n\n\u201cGive that wretched child up to me this moment,\u201d I exclaimed in fury, \u201cor\nmay the bitterness of a father\u2019s curse be on her head!\u201d\n\nHe staggered back; then pressing his lips upon her forehead, gave her to\nme and strode from the pavilion.\n\nI flew to the house of Eleazar. I found him anxious and agitated. Calm\nas his usual manner was, the late transaction had left its traces on his\ndemeanor and countenance. Jubal was in the apartment, which he traversed\nbackward and forward in high indignation. He made no return to my salute\nbut by stopping short and gazing full on me with a look of mingled anger\nand surprise.\n\n\u201cJubal,\u201d said I, \u201ckinsman, we must be friends.\u201d I held out my hand, which\nhe took with no fervent pressure. \u201cI am here only to explain this idle\noffense.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt requires no explanation,\u201d interrupted Jubal sternly; \u201cI, and I\nalone, am to blame\u2014if there be any one to blame in the matter. The offer\nmay have been hasty, or unwelcome, or unpardonable, from one like me,\nstill without rank in the tribe; it may have been fit that I should be\nhaughtily rejected by the family of the descendant of Aaron; but,\u201d said\nhe, pressing his strong hand upon his throat, as if to keep down a burst\nof passion, \u201cthe subject is at an end\u2014now and forever at an end.\u201d\n\nHe recommenced his striding through the chamber.\n\n\u201cLet us hear all, my friend,\u201d said I; \u201cI know that Salome thinks highly\nof your spirit and of your heart. Was there any palliation offered? Did\nshe disclose any secret reason for a conduct which is so opposite to her\nnatural regard for you, and which, she must feel, is so offensive to me?\nBut insult from my family, impossible!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Accused]\n\n\u201cHear, then. I had not alighted from my horse when I saw displeasure\nwritten in the face of every female in your household. From the very\nhandmaids up to their mistress, they had, with the instinct of woman,\ndiscovered my object, and, with the usual deliberation of the sex, had\nmade up their minds without hearing a syllable. Your wife received me,\nit is true, with the grace that belongs to her above women, but she was\nvisibly cold. My kinswoman Esther absolutely shrank from me and scorned\nto return a word. Salome fled. As for the attendants, they frowned and\nmuttered at me in all directions, with the most candid wrath possible.\nIn short, I could not have fared worse had I been a Roman come to take\npossession, or an Arab riding up to rifle every soul in the house.\u201d\n\n\u201cOminous enough!\u201d said Eleazar, with his grave smile. \u201cThe opinions\nof the sex are irresistible. With half my knowledge of them, Jubal,\nyou would have turned your horse\u2019s head homeward at once, and given up\nyour hopes of a bride at least till the next day, or the next hour, or\nwhatever may be the usual time for the sex\u2019s change of mind. Cheer up,\nkinsman; caparison yourself in another dress, let time do its work\u2014ride\nover to Salathiel\u2019s dwelling to-morrow and find a smile for every frown\nof to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you saw Salome!\u201d said I. \u201cI am impatient to hear how she could have\nventured to offend. Could she dare to refuse my brother\u2019s request without\na reason?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; her conduct was altogether without disguise. She first tried to\nlaugh me out of my purpose, then argued, then wept; and finally, told me\nthat our alliance was impossible.\u201d\n\n\u201cRash girl! but she has been led into this folly by others; yet the chief\nfolly was my own. Aye, my eyes were dim, where a mole would have seen. I\nsuffered a showy, plausible villain to remain under my roof till he has,\nby what arts I know not, wiled away the duty and the understanding\u2014nay,\nI fear, the religion of my child.\u201d I smote my breast in sorrow and\nhumiliation.\n\nJubal burst from the apartment and returned with his lance in his hand,\nquivering with wrath.\n\n\u201cNow all is cleared,\u201d cried he; \u201cthe true cause was the magic of that\nidolater. I know the arts of paganism to bewitch the senses of woman\u2014the\nincantations, the perfumes, the midnight fires, and images and songs. But\nlet him come within the throw of this javelin and then try whether all\nhis magic can shield him.\u201d\n\nEleazar grasped his robe as he was again rushing out.\n\n[Sidenote: Eleazar\u2019s Advice]\n\n\u201cStop, madman! Is it with hands dipped in blood that you are to solicit\nthe heart of Salome? Give me that horrid weapon; and you, Salathiel, curb\nyour wild spirit and listen to a brother who can have no interest but in\nthe happiness of both and all. If Salome, whom I loved an infant on the\nknee and love to this moment, the most ingenuous and happy-hearted being\non earth, has been betrayed into a fondness for this stranger, have we\nthe right to force her inclinations? I know the depth of understanding\nthat lies under her playfulness; can she have been deceived, and least\nof all by those arts? Impossible! If she has sacrificed her obedience to\nthe noble form and high accomplishments of the Greek, we can only lament\nher exposure to a captivation made to subdue the heart of woman since the\nworld began.\u201d\n\n\u201cJubal,\u201d interrupted I, \u201cgive me that manly and honest hand; Eleazar\u2019s\nwisdom is too calm to understand a father or a lover. You shall return\nwith me, you shall be my son; Salathiel has no other. This foolish girl\nwill be sorry for her follies and rejoice to receive you. The Greek is\ndriven from my house. And let me see who there will henceforth disobey.\u201d\nThe lover\u2019s face brightened with joy.\n\n\u201cWell, make your experiment,\u201d said Eleazar, rising. \u201cSo ends all councils\nof war in more confusion than they began. But if I had a wife and\ndaughters\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course you would manage them to perfection. So say all who have never\nhad either.\u201d\n\nEleazar\u2019s cheek colored slightly; but with his recovering smile of\nbenevolence he followed us to the porch, and wished us success in our\nexpedition.\n\n[Sidenote: A Forced Betrothal]\n\nWe found the household tranquillized again. Miriam received me with one\nof those radiant smiles that are a husband\u2019s best welcome home. She\nhad succeeded in calming the minds of her daughters, and\u2014a much more\ndifficult task\u2014in suppressing the wrath of the numerous female domestics\nwho had, as usual, constructed out of the graces of the Greek and the\nbeauty of Salome a little romance of their own. In the whole course of my\nlife I never met a female, from the flat-nosed and ebony-colored monster\nof the tropics to the snow-white and sublime divinity of a Greek isle,\nwithout a touch of romance; repulsiveness could not conceal it, age could\nnot extinguish it, vicissitude could not change it. I have found it in\nall times and places, like a spring of fresh waters starting up even from\nthe flint, cheering the cheerless, softening the insensible, renovating\nthe withered; a secret whisper in the ear of every woman alive, that to\nthe last, passion might flutter its pinions round her brow. The strong\nprejudices of our nation had here given way, rebellion was but hushed,\nand I was warned by many a look of the unwelcome suitor that I brought\namong them.\n\nBut from Salome there was no remonstrance. I should have listened to\nnone. The consciousness of my own want of judgment in suffering a man so\ncalculated to attract the eye of innocent youth to become an inmate in my\nhouse; the vexation which I felt at the dismissal of my brother\u2019s heir;\nand last and keenest pang, the inroad made in the faith of a daughter\nof Israel, combined to exasperate me beyond the bounds of patience. I\nloved my child with the strongest affection of a heart rocked by all the\ntides of passion; but I could bear to look upon the pale beauty of her\nface\u2014nay, in the wrath of the hour, could have seen her borne to the\ngrave\u2014rather than permit the command to be disputed by which she was to\nwed in our tribe.\n\n[Sidenote: The Flight of Salome]\n\nTo shorten a period of which I felt the full bitterness, the marriage\npreparations were hurried on. Never was the ceremony anticipated with\nless joy; we were all unhappy. Eleazar remonstrated, but in vain. Jubal\nretracted, but I compelled him to adhere to his proposal. Miriam was\ncloseted perpetually with the betrothed, and of the whole household\nEsther alone walked or talked with me, and it was then only to give me\ndescriptions of her sister\u2019s misery or to pursue me through the endless\nmazes of argument on the hardship of being forced to be happy. The\npreparations proceeded. The piece of silver was given, the contracts were\nsigned, the presents of both families were made; the portion was agreed\nupon. It was not customary to require the appearance of the bride until\nthe celebration itself, and Salome was invisible during those days of\nactivity in which, however, I took the chief interest, for nothing could\nbe further from zeal than the conduct of the other agents, Jubal alone\nexcepted. He had regained the easily recovered confidence of youth, and\nperhaps prided himself on the triumph over a rival so formidable. Two or\nthree petitions for an interview came to me from my daughter. But I knew\ntheir purport, and steadily determined not to hazard the temptation of\nher tears.\n\nThe day came, and with it the guests; our dwelling was full of\nbanqueting. The evening arrived when the ceremony was to be performed and\nthe bride led home to her husband\u2019s house in the usual triumph. One of\nour customs was that a procession of the bridegroom\u2019s younger friends,\nmale and female, should be formed outside the house to wait for the\ncoming forth of the married pair. The ceremony was borrowed by other\nnations; but in our bright climate and cloudless nights, the profusion\nof lamps and torches, the burning perfumes, glittering dresses, and\nfantastic joy of the dancing and singing crowd, had unequaled liveliness\nand beauty. I remained at my casement, gazing on the brilliant escort\nthat, as it gathered and arranged itself along the gardens, looked like\na flight of glow-worms. But no marriage summons came. I grew impatient.\nMy only answer was the sight of Jubal rushing from the house and an\noutcry among the women. Salome was not to be found! She had been left by\nherself for a few hours, as was the custom, to arrange her thoughts for\na ceremony which we considered religious in the highest degree. On the\nbridegroom\u2019s arrival, she had disappeared!\n\nThe blow struck me deep. Had I driven her into the arms of the Greek\nby my severity? Had I driven her out of her senses, or out of life?\nConjecture on conjecture stung me. I reprobated my own cruelty, refused\nconsolation, and spent the night in alternate self-upbraidings and\nprayers for my unhappy child.\n\n[Sidenote: The Search in Vain]\n\nSearch was indefatigably made. The fiery jealousy of Jubal, the manly\nanxiety of Eleazar, the hurt feelings of our tribe, insulted by the\npossibility that their chieftain\u2019s heir should have been scorned, and\nthat the triumph should be to an alien, were all embarked in the\npursuit. But search was in vain; and after days and nights of weariness,\nI returned to my home, there to be met by sorrowing faces, and to feel\nthat every tear was forced by my own obstinacy. I shrank into solitude.\nI exclaimed that the vengeance, the more than vengeance of my crime, had\nstruck its heaviest blow on me in the loss of my child.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\n_Salathiel Faces a Roman_\n\n\n[Sidenote: In Pursuit]\n\nI was in one of those fits of abstraction, revolving the misery in which\nmy beloved daughter might be, if indeed she were in existence, when the\ndoor of my chamber opened softly and one of my domestics appeared, making\na signal of silence. This was he whom I had detected in correspondence\nwith the Roman agent and forgiven through the entreaties of Miriam. The\nman had since shown remarkable interest in the recovery of my daughter,\nand thus completely reinstated himself. He knelt before me, and with\nmore humility than I desired, implored my pardon for having again held\nintercourse with the Roman.\n\n\u201cIt was my zeal,\u201d said he, \u201cto gain intelligence, for I knew that nothing\npassed in the provinces a secret from him. This letter is his answer, and\nperhaps I shall be forgiven for the sake of what it contains.\u201d\n\nI read it with trembling avidity. It was mysterious; described two\nfugitives who had made their escape to C\u00e6sarea, and intimated that as\nthey were about to fly into Asia Minor, the pursuit must be immediate and\nconducted with the utmost secrecy.\n\n[Sidenote: Before Gessius Florus]\n\nI was instantly on horseback. Dreading to disturb my family by false\nhopes, I ordered out my hounds, ranged the hills in sight of my dwelling;\nand then turning off, struck in the spur, and attended only by the\ndomestic, went full speed to C\u00e6sarea. From the summit of Mount Carmel I\nlooked down upon the city and the broad Mediterranean. But my eyes then\nfelt no delight in the grandeur of art or nature. The pompous structures\non which Herod the Great had expended a treasure beyond count, and which\nthe residence of the governor made the Roman capital of Judea, were to me\nbut so many dens and dungeons in which my child might be hidden. The sea\nshowed me only the path by which she might have been borne away, or the\ngrave in which her wanderings were to close.\n\nBy extraordinary speed I entered the gates just as the trumpet was\nsounding for their close. My attendant went forth to obtain information,\nand I was left pacing my chamber, to which I had been brought in feverish\nsuspense. I did not suffer it long. The door opened, and a group of\nsoldiers ordered me to follow them. Resistance was useless. They led me\nto the palace. There I was delivered from guard to guard, through a long\nsuccession of apartments, until we reached the door of a banqueting-room.\nThe festivity within was high, and if I could have then sympathized\nwith singing and laughter, I might have had full indulgence during the\nimmeasurable hour that I lingered out, a broken wretch, exhausted by\ndesperate effort, sick at heart, and of course eager for the result of an\ninterview with the Roman procurator, a man whose name was equivalent to\nvice, extortion, and love of blood throughout Judea.\n\nAt length the feast was at an end. I was summoned, and for the first time\nsaw Gessius Florus,[25] a little bloated figure, with a countenance that\nto the casual observer was the model of gross good-nature, a twinkling\neye, and a lip on the perpetual laugh. His bald forehead wore a wreath of\nflowers, and his tunic and the couch on which he lay breathed perfume.\nThe table before him was a long vista of sculptured cups, and golden\nvases and candelabra.\n\n\u201cI am sorry to have detained you so long,\u201d said he, \u201cbut this was the\nEmperor\u2019s birthday, and as good subjects we have kept it accordingly.\u201d\n\nDuring this speech he was engaged in contemplating the wine-bubbles as\nthey sparkled above the brim of a large amethystine goblet. A pale and\ndelicate Italian boy, sumptuously dressed, the only one of the guests who\nremained, perceiving that I was fatigued, filled a cup and presented it.\n\n\u201cRight, Septimius,\u201d said the debauchee; \u201cmake the Jew drink the Emperor\u2019s\nhealth.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Procurator\u2019s Story]\n\nThe youth bowed gracefully before me, and again offered the cup; but the\ntime was not for indulgence, and I laid it on the table.\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s long life and glory to Nero Claudius C\u00e6sar, our pious, merciful,\nand invincible Emperor!\u201d cried Florus, and only when he had drunk to the\nbottom of the goblet, found leisure to look upon his prisoner.\n\nHe either felt or affected surprise, and, turning to his young companion,\nsaid: \u201cBy Hercules, boy, what grand fellows those Jews make! The helmet\nis nothing to the turban, after all. What magnificence of beard! No\nItalian chin has the vigor to grow anything so superb; then the neck,\nlike the bull of Milo; and those blazing eyes! If I had but a legion of\nsuch spearsmen\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI grew impatient and said: \u201cI stand here, procurator, in your bonds. I\ndemand why? I have business that requires my instant attention and I\ndesire to be gone.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow have I treated you so inhospitably,\u201d said he, laughing, \u201cthat you\nexpect I shall finish by shutting my doors upon you at this time of\nnight?\u201d He glanced upon his tablets and read my name. \u201cAye,\u201d said he,\n\u201cand after I had been so long wishing for the honor of your company. Jew,\ntake your wine and sit down upon that couch, and tell me what brought you\nto C\u00e6sarea.\u201d\n\nI told him briefly the circumstances. He roared with laughter, desired\nme to repeat them, and swore that \u201cBy all the gods! it was the very best\npiece of pleasantry he had heard since he set foot in Judea.\u201d I stood up\nin irrepressible indignation.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said he, \u201cwill you go without hearing my story in return?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Use of the Rack]\n\nHe filled his goblet again to the brim, buried his purple visage in a\nvase of roses, and having inhaled the fragrance, and chosen an easy\nposture, said coldly: \u201cJew, you have told me a most excellent story,\nand it is only fair that I should tell you one in return; not half so\namusing, I admit, but to the full as true. Jew, you are a traitor!\u201d I\nstarted back. \u201cJew,\u201d said he, \u201cyou must in common civility hear me out.\nThe truth is, that your visit has been so often anticipated and so long\ndelayed that I can not bear to part with you yet; you are an apostate;\nyou encourage those Christian dogs. Why does the man stare? You are in\ncommunication with rebels, and I might have had the honor of meeting you\nin the field, if you had not put yourself into my hands in C\u00e6sarea.\u201d\n\nHe pronounced those words of death in the most tranquil tone; not a\nmuscle moved; the cup which he held brimful in his hand never overflowed.\n\n\u201cJew,\u201d said he, \u201cnow be honest, and so far set an example to your nation.\nWhere is the money that has been gathered for this rebellion? You are too\nsagacious a soldier to think of going to war without the mainspring of\nthe machine.\u201d\n\nI scorned to deny the intended insurrection, but \u201cmoney I had collected\nnone.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said he, \u201cyou are now compelling me to a measure which I do not\nlike. Ho! guard!\u201d A soldier presented himself. \u201cDesire that the rack\nshall be got ready.\u201d The man retired. \u201cYou see, Jew, this is all your own\ndoing. Give up the money, and I give up the rack. And the surrender of\nthe coin is asked merely in compassion to yourselves, for without it you\ncan not rebel, and the more you rebel the more you will be beaten.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeware, Gessius Florus,\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cbeware! I am your prisoner,\nentrapped, as I now see, by a villain, or by the greater villain who\ncorrupted him. You may rack me if you will; you may insult my feelings,\ntear my flesh, take my life, but for this there shall be retribution.\nThrough Upper Galilee, from Tiberias to the top of Libanus, this act\nof blood will ring, and be answered by blood. I have kinsmen many,\ncountrymen myriads. A single wrench of my sinews may lift a hundred\nthousand arms against your city, and leave of yourself nothing but the\nremembrance, of your crimes.\u201d\n\nHe bounded from his couch; the native fiend flashed out in his\ncountenance. I waited his attack, with my hand on the poniard within my\nsash. My look probably deterred him, for he flung himself back again, and\nbursting into a loud laugh, exclaimed:\n\n[Sidenote: On to Rome]\n\n\u201cBravely spoken. Septimius, we must send the Jew to Rome, to teach our\norators. Aye, I know Upper Galilee too well not to know that rebellion is\nmore easily raised there than the taxes. And it was for that reason that\nI invited you to come to C\u00e6sarea. In the midst of your tribe, capture\nwould have cost half a legion; here a single jailer will do the business.\nHo! guard!\u201d he called aloud.\n\nI heard the screwing of the rack in the next room and unsheathed the\nponiard. The blade glittered in his eyes. Septimius came between us, and\ntried to turn the procurator\u2019s purpose.\n\n\u201cLet your guard come,\u201d cried I, \u201cand by the sacredness of the Temple, one\nof us dies. I will not live to be tortured, or you shall not live to see\nit.\u201d\n\nIf the door had opened, I was prepared to dart upon him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, after a whispered expostulation from Septimius, \u201cyou\nmust go and settle the matter with the Emperor. The fact is, that I am\ntoo tender-hearted to govern such a nation of dagger-bearers. So, to\nNero! If we can not send the Emperor money, we will at least send him\nmen.\u201d\n\nHe laughed vehemently at the conception; ordered the singing and dancing\nslaves to return; called for wine, and plunged again into his favorite\ncup.\n\nSeptimius arose, and led me into another chamber. I remonstrated against\nthe injustice of my seizure. He lamented it, but said that the orders\nfrom Rome were strict, and that I was denounced by some of the chiefs\nin Jerusalem as the head of the late insurrection and the projector of\na new one. The procurator, he added, had been for some time anxious to\nget me into his power without raising a disturbance among my tribe; the\ntreachery of my domestic had been employed to effect this, and \u201cnow,\u201d\nconcluded he, \u201cmy best wish for you\u2014a wish prompted by motives of which\nyou can form no conjecture\u2014is that you may be sent to Rome. Every day\nthat sees you in C\u00e6sarea sees you in the utmost peril. At the first rumor\nof insurrection, your life will be the sacrifice.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut my family! What will be their feelings? Can I not at least acquaint\nthem with my destination?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018Let your guard come,\u2019 cried I.\u201d\n\n [_see page 136._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The Hoisting of Sails]\n\n\u201cIt is impossible. And now, to let you into a state secret, the Emperor\nhas ordered that you should be sent to Rome. Florus menaced you only to\nextort money. He now knows you better, and would gladly enlist you in the\nRoman cause. This I know to be hopeless. But I dread his caprice, and\nshall rejoice to see the sails hoisted that are to carry you to Rome.\nFarewell; your family shall have due intelligence.\u201d\n\nHe was at the door of the chamber, but suddenly returned, and pressing my\nhand, said again: \u201cFarewell, and remember that neither all Romans, nor\neven all Greeks, may be alike!\u201d He then with a graceful obeisance left\nthe room.\n\nFatigue hung with a leaden weight upon my eyelids. I tried vain\nexperiments to keep myself from slumber in this perilous vicinage. The\nhuge silver chandelier, that threw a blaze over the fretted roof, began\nto twinkle before me; the busts and statues gradually mingled, and I was\nonce more in the land of visions. Home was before my eyes. I was suddenly\ntossed upon the ocean.\n\nI stood before Nero and was addressing him with a formal harangue, when\nthe whole tissue was broken up by a sullen voice commanding me to rise.\nA soldier, sword in hand, soon entered; he pointed to the door where an\narmed party were seen, and informed me that I was ordered for immediate\nembarkation.\n\nIt was scarcely past midnight; the stars were still in their splendor;\nthe pharos threw a long line of flame on the waters; the city sounds\nwere hushed, and silent as a procession to the grave, we moved down to\nwhere the tall vessel lay rocking with the breeze. At her side, a Nubian\nslave put a note into my hand; it was from the young Roman, requesting\nmy acceptance of wine and fruits from the palace, and wishing me a\nprosperous result to my voyage. The sails were hoisted; the stately\nmole, that even in the night looked a mount of marble, was cleared;\nthe libation was poured to the Tritons for our speedy passage, and the\nblazing pharos was rapidly seen but as a twinkling star.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\n_On Board a Trireme_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain of the Trireme]\n\nOur trireme flew before the wind. By daybreak the coast was only a pale\nline along the waters; but Carmel still towered proudly eminent, and with\nits top alternately clouded and glittering in the sun might have been\ntaken for a gigantic beacon throwing up alternate smoke and flame. With\nwhat eyes did I continue to look, until the mighty hill, too, sank in the\nwaters! But thought still lingered on the shore. I saw, with a keenness\nmore than of the eye, the family circle; through many an hour of gazing\non the waters, I was all but standing in the midst of those walls which I\nmight never more see; listening to the uncomplaining sighs of Miriam, the\nimpassioned remonstrances of my sole remaining child, and busied in the\nstill harder task of finding out some defense against the self-accusation\nthat laid the charge of rashness and cruelty heavy upon my soul.\n\nBut the scene round me was the very reverse of moody meditation. The\ncaptain was a thorough Italian trierarch, ostentatious, gay, given to\nsuperstition, and occasionally a little of a free thinker. His ship was\nto him child, wife, and world; and at every maneuver he claimed from us\nsuch tribute as a father might for the virtues of his favorite offspring;\nperpetual luck was in everything that she did; she knew every headland\nfrom Cyprus to Ostia; a pilot was a mere supernumerary; she could run the\nwhole course without the helm, if she pleased. She beat the _Liburnian_\nfor speed; the _Cypriot_ for comfort; the _Sicilian_ for safety; and\nevery other vessel on the seas for every other quality. All he asked was\nto live in her, while he lived at all, and to go down in her when the\nFates were at last to cut his thread, as they did those of all captains,\nwhether on sea or land.\n\n[Sidenote: A Motley Crowd]\n\nThe panegyric of the good ship _Ganymede_ was in some degree merited;\nshe carried us on boldly. For a sea in which the winds are constant when\nthey come, but in which the calms are as constant as the winds, nothing\ncould have been more perfectly adapted than the ancient galley. If the\ngale arose, the ship shot along like the eagle that bore her Trojan\nnamesake\u2014light, strong, with her white sails full of the breeze, and\ncleaving the surge with the rapidity of an arrow. If the wind fell we\nfloated in a pavilion, screened from the sun, refreshed with perfumes\nburning on poop, brow, and masts, surrounded with gilding and, the\ncarvings and paintings of the Greek artists, drinking delicious wines,\nlistening to song and story, and in all this enjoyment gliding insensibly\nalong on a lake of absolute sapphire encircled and varied by the most\npicturesque and lovely islands in the world.\n\nThe _Ganymede_ had been under especial orders from Rome for my\ntransmission; but the captain felt too much respect for the procurator\nnot to trespass on the letter of the law so far as to fill up the\nvacancies of his hold with merchandise, in which Florus drove a steady\ncontraband trade. Having done so much to gratify the governor\u2019s\ndistinguishing propensity, he next provided for his own; and loaded his\ngallant vessel mercilessly with passengers, as much prohibited as his\nmerchandise. While we were yet in sight of land, I walked a lonely deck;\nbut when the salutary fear of the galleys on the station was passed,\nevery corner of the _Ganymede_ let loose a living cargo.\n\nFor the Jewish chieftain going from Florus on a mission to the Emperor,\nas the captain conceived me and my purpose to be, a separate portion of\nthe deck was kept sacred. But I mingled from time to time with the crowd,\nand thus contrived to preserve at once my respect and my popularity.\nNever was there a more miscellaneous collection. We transported into\nEurope a Chaldee sorcerer, an Indian gymnosophist, an Arab teacher of\nastrology, a Magian from Persepolis, and a Platonist from Alexandria.\nSuch were our contributions to Oriental science.\n\nWe had, besides, a dealer in sleight-of-hand from Damascus; an Egyptian\nwith tame monkeys and a model of a pyramid; a Syrian serpent-teacher; an\nIdumean maker of amulets against storm and calm, thirst and hunger, and\nevery other disturbance and distress of life; an Armenian discoverer of\nthe stone by which gold-mines were to be found; a Byzantine inventor of\nthe true Oriental pearls; a dealer from the Caspian in gums superseding\nall that Arabia ever wept; an Epicurean philosopher who professed\nindolence, and who, to do him justice, was a striking example of his\ndoctrine; and a Stoic who, having gone his rounds of the Roman garrisons\nas a teacher of dancing, a curer of wines, and a flute-player, had now\nrisen into the easier vocation of a philosopher.\n\n[Sidenote: Differences of Opinion]\n\nOf course, among these professors, the discoverer of gold was the most\nmoneyless; the maker of amulets against misfortune the most miserable;\nand the Stoic the most impatient. The Epicurean alone adhered to the\nspirit of his profession.\n\nBut the unstable elements round us were a severe trial for any human\nphilosophy but that of a thorough optimist. Wind and water, the two most\nimperious of all things, were our masters; and a calm, a breeze, or even\na billow, often tried our reasoners too roughly for the honor of tempers\nso saturated with wisdom. On those occasions the Platonist defended the\nantiquity of Egypt with double pertinacity; the Chaldee derided its\nnovelty by the addition of a hundred thousand years to his chronology of\nBabylon; the Indian with increased scorn, wrinkling his brown visage,\ntold them that both Babylon and Egypt were baubles of yesterday compared\nwith the million years of India.\n\nThe dagger would have silenced many a discussion on the chief good, the\norigin of benevolence, and the beauty of virtue, but for the voice of the\ncaptain, which like thunder cleared the air. He, I will allow, was the\ntruest philosopher of us all. The trierarch was an unconscious optimist;\nnothing could touch him in the shape of misfortune, for to him it had no\nexistence. If the storm rose, \u201cwe should get the more rapidly into port\u201d;\nif the calm came to fix us scorching on the face of the waters, \u201cnothing\ncould be safer.\u201d If our provisions fell short, \u201cabstemiousness now and\nthen was worth a generation of doctors.\u201d If the sun burned above us with\nthe fire of a ball of red-hot iron, \u201cit was the test of fair weather\u201d; if\nthe sky was a mass of vapor, \u201cwe escaped being roasted alive.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosophy of a Captain]\n\nHis maxims on higher subjects were equally consoling. \u201cIf man had to\nstruggle through life, struggle was the nursing-mother of greatness;\nif he were opulent, he had gained the end without the trouble. If he\nhad disease, he learned patience, essential for sailor, soldier, and\nphilosopher alike; if he enjoyed health, who could doubt the blessing?\nIf he lived long, he had time for pleasure; if he died early, he escaped\nthe chances of the tables\u2019 turning.\u201d The optimist applied his principle\nto me, by gravely informing me that \u201cthough it depended on the Emperor\u2019s\nstate of digestion whether I should or should not carry back my head\nfrom his presence, yet if I lived, I should see the games of the Circus,\nand if I did not, I should in all probability care but little about the\nmatter.\u201d\n\nNothing in the variety of later Europe gives me a parallel to the\ndistinctions of rank and profession, style of subsistence, and\nphysiognomy of society in the ancient world. Human nature was classed\nin every kingdom, province, and city almost as rigidly as the different\nraces of mankind. The divisions of the slave, the freedman, the citizen,\nthe artist, the priest, the man of literature, and the man of public life\nwere cut with a plowshare whose furrows were never filled up. Life had\nthe curious mixture of costume, the palpable diversity of purpose, and\nthe studied intricacy of a drama.\n\nOur voyage was rapid, but even a lingering transit would have been\ncheered by the innumerable objects of beauty and memory which rise on\nevery side in the passage through a Grecian sea. The islands were then\nuntouched by the spoiler; the opulence of Rome had been added to Attic\ntaste; and temples, theaters, and palaces, starting from groves, or\nstudding the sides of the stately hills, and reflected in the mirror\nof bays, smooth and bright as polished steel, held the eye a continual\ncaptive. On the sea, nights of vessels, steering in all directions,\nglittering with the emblems of their nations, the colored pennants, the\npainted prows, and gilded images of their protecting deities, covered\nthe horizon with life. We had reached the southern cape of Greece, and\nwere, with a boldness unusual to ancient navigation, stretching across\nin a starless night for the coast of Italy, when we caught a sound of\ndistant music that recalled the poetic dreams of nymphs and tritons. The\nsound swelled and sank on the wind, as if it came from the depths of the\nsea or the bosom of the clouds. As we parted from the land, it swelled\nhigher until it filled the midnight with pompous harmony. To sleep was\nprofanation, and we all gathered on the deck, exhausting nature and art\nin conjectures of the cause.\n\n[Sidenote: The Imperial Fleet]\n\nThe harmony approached and receded at intervals, grew in volume and\nrichness, then stole away in wild murmurs, to revive with still more\nluxuriant sweetness. Night passed in delight and conjecture. Morning\nalone brought the solution.\n\nFull in the blaze of sunrise steered the imperial fleet, returning\nin triumph from the Olympic games, with the Emperor on board. We had\nunconsciously approached it during the darkness.\n\nThe whole scene wore the aspect of a vision summoned by the hand of\nan enchanter. The sea was covered with the fleet in order of battle.\nSome of the galleys were of vast size, and all were gleaming with gold\nand decorations; silken sails, garlands on the masts, trophies hung\nover the sides, and embroidered streamers of every shape and hue, met\nthe morning light. We passed the wing of the fleet, close enough to\nsee the sacrificial fires on the poop of the imperial quinquereme. A\ncrowd in purple and military habits was standing round a throne, above\nwhich proudly waved the scarlet flag of command. A figure advanced; all\nforeheads were bowed, acclamations rent the air, the trumpets of the\nfleet flourished, and the lofty harmonies that had charmed us in the\nnight again swelled upon the wind and followed us, long after the whole\nfloating splendor had dissolved into the distant blue.\n\nAt length the headlands of the noble bay of Tarentum rose above the\nhorizon. While we were running with the speed of a lapwing, the captain,\nto our surprise, shortened sail. I soon discovered that no philosophy was\nperfect; that even the optimist thought that daylight might be worse\nthan useless, and that a blot had been left on creation in the shape of a\ncustom-house officer.\n\nNight fell at last; the moon, to which our captain had taken a sudden\naversion, was as cloudy as he could desire, and we rushed in between\nthe glimmering watch-towers on the Iapygian and Lacinian promontories.\nThe glow of light along the waters soon pointed out where the luxurious\ncitizens of Tarentum were enjoying the banquet in their barges and\nvillas. Next came the hum of the great city, whose popular boast was,\nlike that of later times, that it had more festivals than days in the\nyear.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Lands]\n\nBut the trierarch\u2019s often-told delight at finding himself free to rove\namong the indulgences of his favorite shore had lost its poignancy; and\nwith a firmness which set the Stoic in a rage, the Epicurean in a state\nof rebellion, and the whole tribe of our sages in a temper of mere mortal\nremonstrance, he resisted alike the remonstrance and the allurement, and\nsullenly cast anchor in the center of the bay.\n\nIt was not until song and feast had died, and all was hushed, that he\nstole with the slightest possible noise to the back of the mole, and\nsending us below, disburdened his conscience and the hold of the good\nship _Ganymede_. I had no time to give to the glories of Tarentum.\nNero\u2019s approach hurried my departure. The centurion who had me in charge\ntrembled at the idea of delay, and we rode through the midst of three\nhundred thousand sleepers in streets of marble and ranks of statues, as\nsilently and swiftly as if we had been the ghosts of their ancestors.\n\nWhen the day broke we found ourselves among the Lucanian hills, then\nno desert, but crowded with population and bright with the memorials\nof Italian opulence and taste. From the inn where we halted to change\nhorses, the Tarentine gulf spread broad and bold before the eye.\n\nThe city of luxury and of power, once the ruler of Southern Italy, and\nmistress of the seas that sent out armies and fleets, worthy to contest\nthe supremacy with Pyrrhus and the Carthaginian, was, from this spot,\nsunk like all the works of man, into littleness. But the gulf, like all\nthe works of nature, grew in grandeur. Its circular shore edged with\nthirteen cities, the deep azure of its smooth waters inlaid with the\nflashes of sunrise, and traversed by fleets, diminished to toys, reminded\nme of one of the magnificent Roman shields, with its center of sanguine\nsteel, the silver incrustation of the rim, and the storied sculpture. We\npassed at full speed through the Lucanian and Samnian provinces, fine\nsweeps of cultivated country, interspersed with the hunting-grounds of\nthe great patricians; forests that had not felt the ax for centuries, and\nhills and valleys sheeted with the vine and rose.\n\n[Sidenote: In Rome]\n\nBut on reaching the border of Latium, I was already in Rome; I traveled\na day\u2019s journey among streets and in the midst of a crowded and hurrying\npopulation. The whole was one huge suburb with occasional glimpses of a\ncentral mount, crowned with glittering and gilded structures.\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d said the centurion, with somewhat of religious reverence,\n\u201cbehold the eternal Capitol!\u201d\n\nI entered Rome at night, passing through an endless number of narrow and\nintricate streets where hovels, the very abode of want, were mingled with\npalaces blazing with lights and echoing with festivity. The centurion\u2019s\nhouse was at length reached. He showed me to an apartment, and left me,\nsaying, \u201cthat I must prepare to be brought before the Emperor immediately\non his arrival.\u201d\n\nI am now, thought I, in the heart of the heart of the world; in the midst\nof that place of power from which the destiny of nations issues; in the\ngreat treasure-house to which men come from the ends of the earth for\nknowledge, for justice, for wealth, honor, thrones! And what am I?\u2014a\nsolitary slave!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\n_The Burning of Rome_\n\n\nWith the original mixture of Ionian and northern blood in his veins,\nthe character of the Roman was at once tasteful and barbarian. Like the\nAsiatic, delighting in luxury, like the Tatar, delighting in gore, he\nturned the elegance of the Greek games into the combat of gladiators. He\nwas a voluptuary, but the gravest of all voluptuaries. Of all nations the\nRoman bore the strongest resemblance to that people of conquerors who at\nlength swept its name from Byzantium; superb, but slavish; fierce, but\nsensual; brave as the lion, but base in its appetites as the jackal; a\npeople made for the possession of empire and for its corruption.[26]\n\nOf all men he had the least resemblance to his successor. Haughty,\nsagacious, and solemn, tho ravening for rapine, and merciless in his\nrevenge, he bequeathed nothing to that miscellany of mankind which has\nfollowed him, but his passion for shows.\n\n[Sidenote: Roman Pageantry]\n\nRome was all shows. Its innumerable public events were all thrown into\nthe shape of pageantry. Its worship, elections, the departure and return\nof governors and consuls, every operation of public life, was modeled\ninto a pomp, and in the boundless extent of the empire those operations\nwere crowding on one another every day. The multitude that can still\nbe set in motion by a wooden saint was then summoned by the stirring\nceremonial of empire, the actual sovereignty of the globe. What must\nhave been the strong excitement, the perpetual concourse, the living and\nvarious activity of a city from which flowed the stream of power through\nthe world, to return to it loaded with all that the opulence, skill, and\nsplendor of the world could give.\n\nTriumphs to whose grandeur and singularity the pomps of later days are\nbut as the attempts of paupers and children; rites on which the very\nexistence of the state was to depend; the levy and march of armies which\nwere to carry fate to the remotest corners of the earth; the kings of the\nEast and West coming to solicit diadems or to deprecate the irresistible\nwrath of Rome; vast theaters; public games that tasked the whole\nfertility of Roman talent, and the most prodigal lavishness of imperial\nluxury, were the movers that among the four millions of Rome made life a\nhurricane.\n\nI saw it in its full and grand commotion; I saw it in its desperate\nagony; I saw it in its frivolous revival, and I shall see it in an hour,\nwilder, weaker, and more terrible than all. I remained under the charge\nof the centurion. No man could be better fitted for a state jailer.\nCivility sat on his lips, but caution the most profound sat beside her.\nHe professed to have the deepest dependence on my honor, yet he never let\nme move beyond his eye. But I had no desire to escape. The crisis must\ncome, and I was as well inclined to meet it then as to have it lingering\nover me.\n\n[Sidenote: Summoned Before the Emperor]\n\nIntelligence in a few days arrived from Brundusium of the Emperor\u2019s\nlanding, and of his intention to remain at Antium until his triumphal\nentry should be prepared. My fate now hung in the balance. I was ordered\nto attend the imperial presence. At the vestibule of the Antian palace my\ncareful centurion deposited me in the hands of a senator.\n\nAs I followed him through the halls, a young female richly attired, and\nof the most beautiful face and form, crossed us, light and graceful\nas a dancing nymph. The senator bowed profoundly. She beckoned to him\nand they exchanged a few words. I was probably the subject, for her\ncountenance, sparkling with the animation of youth and loveliness, grew\npale at once; she clasped both her hands upon her eyes and rushed into an\ninner chamber. She knew Nero well; and dearly she was yet to pay for her\nknowledge.\n\nThe senator, to my inquiring glance, answered in a whisper, \u201cThe Empress\nPopp\u00e6a.\u201d\n\nA few steps onward and I stood in the presence of the most formidable\nbeing on earth. Yet whatever might have been my natural agitation at the\ntime, I could scarcely restrain a smile at the first sight of Nero.[27]\n\n[Sidenote: Nero the Tyrant]\n\nI saw a pale, undersized, light-haired young man, sitting before a table\nwith a lyre on it, and a parrot\u2019s cage, to whose inmate he was teaching\nGreek with great assiduity. But for the regal furniture of the cabinet I\nshould have supposed myself led by mistake into an interview with some\nstruggling poet. He shot round one quick glance on the opening of the\ndoor, and then proceeded to give lessons to his bird. I had leisure to\ngaze on the tyrant and parricide.\n\nPhysiognomy is a true science. The man of profound thought, the man of\nactive ability, and, above all, the man of genius has his character\nstamped on his countenance by nature; the man of violent passions and the\nvoluptuary have it stamped by habit. But the science has its limits: it\nhas no stamp for mere cruelty. The features of the human monster before\nme were mild and almost handsome; a heavy eye and a figure tending to\nfulness gave the impression of a quiet mind, and but for an occasional\nrestlessness of brow and a brief glance from under it, in which the\nleaden eye darted suspicion, I should have pronounced Nero one of the\nmost indolently harmless of mankind.\n\nHe now remanded his pupil to its perch, took up the lyre, and throwing a\nnot unskilful hand over the strings in the intervals of his performance,\nlanguidly addressed a broken sentence to me.\n\n[Sidenote: The Escape]\n\n\u201cYou have come, I understand, from Judea; they tell me that you have\nbeen, or are to be, a general of the insurrection. You must be put to\ndeath; your countrymen give me a great deal of trouble, and I always\nregret to be troubled with them. But to send you back would be only an\nencouragement to them, and to keep you here among strangers would be\nonly a cruelty to you. I am charged with cruelty; you see the charge is\nnot true. I am lampooned every day; I know the scribblers, but they must\nlampoon or starve and I leave them to do both. Have you brought any news\nfrom Judea? They have not had a true prince there since the first Herod\nand he was quite a Greek, a cut-throat and a man of taste. He understood\nthe arts. I sent for you to see what sort of animal a Jewish rebel was.\nYour dress is handsome, but too light for our winters. You can not die\nbefore sunset, as until then I am engaged with my music-master. We all\nmust die when our time comes. Farewell\u2014till sunset may Jupiter protect\nyou!\u201d\n\nI retired to execution, and before the door closed heard this\naccomplished disposer of life and death preluding upon his lyre with\nincreased energy. I was conducted to a turret until the period in which\nthe Emperor\u2019s engagement with his music-master should leave him at\nleisure to see me die!\n\nYet there was kindness even under the roof of Nero, and a liberal hand\nhad covered the table in my cell. The hours passed heavily along, but\nthey passed; and I was watching the last rays of my last sun when I\nsuddenly perceived a cloud rise in the direction of Rome. It grew\nbroader, deeper, darker as I gazed; its center was suddenly tinged with\nred; the tinge spread; the whole mass of cloud became crimson; the sun\nwent down, and another sun seemed to have risen in its stead. I heard the\nclattering of horses\u2019 feet in the courtyards below; trumpets sounded;\nthere was evident confusion in the palace; the troops hurried under arms,\nand I saw a squadron of cavalry set off at full speed.\n\nAs I was gazing on the spectacle before me, which perpetually became\nmore menacing, the door of my cell slowly opened, and a masked figure\nstood upon the threshold. I had made up my mind, and demanding if he were\nthe executioner, told him \u201cI was ready.\u201d The figure paused, listened to\nthe sounds below, and after looking for a while on the troops in the\ncourtyard, signified by signs that I had a chance of saving my life.\n\n[Sidenote: Rome Aflame]\n\nThe love of existence rushed back upon me; I eagerly inquired what was to\nbe done. He drew from under his cloak the dress of a Roman slave, which\nI put on, and noiselessly followed his steps through a long succession\nof small and strangely intricate passages. We found no difficulty from\nguards or domestics. The whole palace was in a state of extraordinary\nalarm. Every human being was packing up something or other; rich vases,\nmyrrhine cups, gold services, were lying in heaps on the floors; books,\ncostly dresses, instruments of music, all the appendages of luxury, were\nflung loose in every direction\u2014signs of the sudden breaking up of the\ncourt. I might have plundered the value of a province with impunity.\nStill we wound our hurried way. In passing along one of the corridors,\nthe voice of sorrow struck the ear; my mysterious guide hesitated; I\nglanced through the slab of crystal that showed the chamber within.\n\nIt was the one in which I had seen the Emperor, but his place was now\nfilled by the form of youth and beauty which had crossed me on my\narrival. She was weeping bitterly,[28] and reading with passionate\nindignation a long list of names, probably one of those rolls in which\nNero registered his intended victims, and which in the haste of departure\nhe had left open. A second glance saw her tear the paper into a thousand\nfragments and scatter them in the fountain that gushed upon the floor. I\nleft this lovely and unhappy creature, this dove in the vulture\u2019s talons,\nwith almost a pang. A few steps more brought us into the open air, but\namong bowers that covered our path with darkness. At the extremity of\nthe gardens my guide struck with his dagger upon a door; it was opened;\nwe found horses outside; he sprang on one; I sprang on its fellow, and\npalace, guards, and death were left far behind.\n\n[Sidenote: The Progress of Destruction]\n\nHe galloped so furiously that I found it impossible to speak, and it\nwas not till we had reached an eminence a few miles from Rome, where we\nbreathed our horses, that I could ask to whom I had been indebted for\nmy escape. But I could not extract a word from him. He made signs of\nsilence and pointed with wild anxiety to the scene that spread below. It\nwas of a grandeur and terror indescribable. Rome was an ocean of flame!\nHeight and depth were covered with red surges that rolled before the\nblast like an endless tide. The flames burst up the sides of the hills,\nwhich they turned into instant volcanoes, exploding volumes of smoke and\nfire; then plunged into the depths in a hundred glowing cataracts; then\nclimbed and consumed again. The distant sound of the great city in her\nconvulsion went to the soul. The air was filled with the steady roar of\nthe advancing blaze, the crash of falling houses, and the hideous outcry\nof the myriads flying through the streets, or surrounded and perishing in\nthe conflagration.\n\nHostile to Rome as I was, I could not restrain the exclamation: \u201cThere\ngoes the fruit of conquest, the glory of ages, the purchase of the\nblood of millions! Was vanity made for man?\u201d My guide continued looking\nforward with intense earnestness, as if he were perplexed by what avenue\nto enter the burning city. I demanded who he was, and whither he would\nlead me. He returned no answer. A long spire of flame that shot up from\na hitherto-untouched quarter engrossed all his senses. He struck in the\nspur, and making a wild gesture to me to follow, darted down the hill.\n\nI pursued; we found the Appian choked with wagons, baggage of every\nkind, and terrified crowds hurrying into the open country. To force a\nway through them was impossible. All was clamor, violent struggle, and\nhelpless death. Men and women of the highest rank were hurrying on foot,\nor trampled by the rabble that had then lost all respect of condition.\nOne dense mass of miserable life, irresistible from its weight, crushed\nby the narrow streets and scorched by the flames over their heads,\ncontinued to roll through the gates like an endless stream of black lava.\n\nWe now turned back and attempted an entrance through the gardens of some\nof the villas that skirted the city wall near the Palatine. All were\ndeserted, and after some dangerous bounds over the burning ruins we\nfound ourselves in the streets. The fire had originally broken out on\nthe Palatine, and hot smoke that wrapped and half-blinded us hung thick\nas night upon the wrecks of pavilions and palaces; but the dexterity and\nknowledge of my inexplicable guide carried us on. It was in vain that I\ninsisted upon knowing the purpose of this terrible traverse. He pressed\nhis hand on his heart in reassurance of his fidelity, and still spurred\non.\n\nWe now passed under the shade of an immense range of lofty buildings,\nwhose gloomy and solid strength seemed to bid defiance to chance and\ntime. A sudden scream appalled me.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Arena]\n\nA ring of fire swept round its summit; burning cordage, sheets of canvas,\nand a shower of all things combustible flew into the air above our heads.\nAn uproar followed, unlike all that I had ever heard, a hideous mixture\nof howls, shrieks, and groans. The flames rolled down the narrow street\nbefore us and made the passage next to impossible. While we hesitated,\na huge fragment of the building heaved, as if in an earthquake, and\nfortunately for us fell inward. The whole scene of terror was then open.\n\nThe great amphitheater of Statilius Taurus had caught fire; the stage\nwith its inflammable furniture was blazing below. The flames were\nwheeling up, circle above circle, through the seventy thousand seats\nthat rose from the ground to the roof. I stood in unspeakable awe and\nwonder on the side of this colossal cavern, this mighty temple of the\ncity of fire. At length a descending blast cleared away the smoke that\ncovered the arena. The cause of those horrid cries was now visible. The\nwild beasts kept for the games had broken from their dens. Maddened by\naffright and pain, lions, tigers, panthers, wolves, whole herds of the\nmonsters of India and Africa, were enclosed in an impassable barrier\nof fire. They bounded, they fought, they screamed, they tore; they ran\nhowling round and round the circle; they made desperate leaps upward\nthrough the blaze; when flung back, they fell, only to fasten their fangs\nin each other, and with their parching jaws bathed in blood, die raging.\n\n[Sidenote: Mamartine, the Roman Prison]\n\nI looked anxiously to see whether any human being was involved in this\nfearful catastrophe; but to my relief, I could see none. The keepers\nand attendants had obviously escaped. As I expressed my gladness I was\nstartled by a loud cry from my guide, the first sound that I had heard\nhim utter. He pointed to the opposite side of the amphitheater. There\nindeed sat an object of melancholy interest\u2014a man who had either been\nunable to escape or had determined to die. Escape was now impossible.\nHe sat in desperate calmness on his funeral pile. He was a gigantic\nEthiopian slave, entirely naked. He had chosen his place, as if in\nmockery, on the imperial throne; the fire was above him and around him,\nand under this tremendous canopy he gazed without the movement of a\nmuscle on the combat of the wild beasts below, a solitary sovereign, with\nthe whole tremendous game played for himself, and inaccessible to the\npower of man.\n\nI was forced away from this absorbing spectacle, and we once more\nthreaded the long and intricate streets of Rome. As we approached the end\nof one of those bewildering passages, scarcely wide enough for us to ride\nabreast, I was startled by the sudden illumination of the sky immediately\nabove, and, rendered cautious by the experience of our hazards, called to\nmy companion to return. He pointed behind me and showed the fire breaking\nout in the houses by which we had just galloped. I followed on. A crowd\nthat poured from the adjoining streets cut off our retreat. Hundreds\nrapidly mounted on the houses in front, in the hope by throwing them\ndown to check the conflagration. The obstacle once removed, we saw the\nsource of the light\u2014spectacle of horror! The great prison of Rome, the\nMamartine, was on fire.\n\nNever can I forget the sights and sounds\u2014the dismay\u2014the hopeless\nagony\u2014the fury and frenzy that then overwhelmed all hearts. The jailers\nhad been forced to fly before they could loose the fetters or open\nthe cells of the prisoners. We saw those gaunt and wo-begone wretches\ncrowding to their casements, and imploring impossible help; clinging\nto the heated bars; toiling with their impotent grasp to tear out the\nmassive stones; some hopelessly wringing their hands; some calling on\nthe terrified spectators, by every name of humanity, to save them; some\nventing their despair in execrations and blasphemies that made the blood\nrun cold; others, after many a wild effort to break loose, dashing\ntheir heads against the walls or stabbing themselves. The people gave\nthem outcry for outcry, but the flame forbade approach. Before I could\nextricate myself from the multitude, a whirl of fiery ashes shot upward\nfrom the falling roof; the walls burst into a thousand fragments, and the\nhuge prison, with all its miserable inmates, was a heap of embers!\n\n[Sidenote: Through Increasing Misery]\n\nExhausted as I was by this endless fatigue and yet more by the melancholy\nsights that surrounded every step, no fatigue seemed to be felt by\nthe singular being who governed my movements. He sprang through the\nburning ruins; he plunged into the sulfurous smoke; he never lost the\ndirection that he had first taken; and tho baffled and forced to turn\nback a hundred times, he again rushed on his track with the directness\nof an arrow. For me to make my way back to the gates would be even more\ndifficult than to push forward. My ultimate safety might be in following,\nand I followed. To stand still and to move seemed equally perilous.\n\nThe streets, even with the improvements of Augustus, were still scarcely\nwider than the breadth of the little Volscian carts that crowded them.\nThey were crooked, long, and obstructed by every impediment of a city\nbuilt in haste after the burning by the Gauls, and with no other plan\nthan the caprice of its hurried tenantry. The houses were of immense\nheight, chiefly wood, many roofed with thatch, and all covered or\ncemented with pitch. The true surprise is that it had not been burned\nonce a year from the time of its building. Nero, that hereditary\nconcentration of vice, of whose ancestor\u2019s yellow beard the Roman orator\nsaid, \u201cNo wonder that his beard was brass, when his mouth was iron\nand his heart lead,\u201d the parricide and the poisoner, might plausibly\nexonerate himself of an act which might have been the deed of a drunken\nmendicant in any of the fifty thousand hovels of this gigantic aggregate\nof everything that could turn to flame.\n\nWe passed along through all the horrid varieties of misery, guilt, and\nriot that could find their place in a great public calamity; groups\ngazing in wo on the wreck of their fortunes in vapor and fire; groups\nplundering in the midst of the flame; crowds of rioters, escaped felons,\nand murderers, exulting in the public ruin, and dancing and drinking with\nBacchanalian uproar; gangs of robbers stabbing the fugitives, to strip\nthem; revenge, avarice, despair, profligacy, let loose naked; undisguised\ndemons, to swell the wretchedness of this tremendous infliction upon a\nblood-covered empire.\n\nStill we spurred on, but our jaded horses at length sank under us; and\nleaving them to find their way into the fields, we struggled forward\non foot. The air had hitherto been calm, but now gusts began to rise,\nthunder growled, and the signs of tempest increased. We had gained an\nuntouched quarter of the city, and had pushed our weary passage up to the\ngates of a large patrician palace, when we were startled by a broad sheet\nof flame rushing through the sky. The storm had come in its rage.\n\n[Sidenote: The Palace Aflame]\n\nThe range of public magazines of wood, cordage, tar, and oil, in the\nvalley between the C\u0153lian and Palatine hills, had at length been involved\nin the conflagration. All that we had seen before was darkness to the\nfierce splendor of this burning. The tempest tore off the roofs and swept\nthem like floating islands of fire through the sky. The most distant\nquarters on which they fell were instantly wrapped in flame. One broad\nmass, whirling from an immense height, broke upon the palace before us. A\ncry of terror was heard within. The gates were flung open, and a crowd of\ndomestics and persons of both sexes, attired for a banquet, poured into\nthe streets. The palace was wrapped in flame.\n\nMy guide then for the first time lost his self-possession. He staggered\ntoward me with the appearance of a man who had received a spear-head in\nhis bosom. I caught him before he fell, but his head sank, his knees bent\nunder him, and his white lips quivered with unintelligible sounds. I\ncould distinguish only the words\u2014\u201cGone, gone forever!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Finds Salome]\n\nThe flames had already seized upon the principal floors of the palace,\nand the volumes of smoke that poured through every window and entrance\nrendered the attempt to save those still within a work of extreme hazard.\nBut ladders were rapidly placed, ropes were flung, and the activity of\nthe attendants and retainers was boldly exerted, until all were presumed\nto have been saved and the building was left to burn. My overwhelmed\nguide was lying on the ground when a sudden scream was heard, and a\nfigure in the robes and with the rosy crown of a banquet\u2014strange contrast\nto her fearful situation\u2014was seen flying from window to window in the\nupper part of the mansion. It was supposed that she had fainted in\nthe first terror and been forgotten. The height, the fierceness of the\nflame, which now completely mastered resistance, the volumes of smoke\nthat suffocated every man who approached, made the chance of saving this\nunfortunate being utterly desperate in the opinion of the multitude.\n\nI shuddered at the horrors of this desertion. I looked round at my\ncompanion; he was kneeling in helpless agony, with his hands lifted up\nto heaven. Another scream, wilder than ever, pierced my senses. I seized\nan ax from one of the domestics, caught a ladder from another, and in a\nparoxysm of hope, fear, and pity scaled the burning wall. A shout from\nbelow followed me.\n\nI entered at the first window that I could reach. All before me was\ncloud. I rushed on, struggled, stumbled over furniture and fragments of\nall kinds; fell, rose again, found myself trampling upon precious things,\nplate and crystal; and still, ax in hand, forced my way. I at length\nreached the apartment where I had seen the figure. It had vanished!\n\nA strange superstition of childhood, a thought that I might have been\nlured by some spirit of evil into this place of ruin, suddenly came\nover me. I stopped to gather my faculties. I leaned against one of the\npillars\u2014it was hot; the floor shook and cracked under my tread; the walls\nheaved, the flame hissed below, while overhead roared the whirlwind and\nburst the thunder-peal.\n\nMy brain was fevered by agitation and fatigue. The golden lamps still\nburning; the long tables disordered, yet glittering with the ornaments of\npatrician luxury; the Tyrian couches; the scarlet canopy that covered the\nwhole range of the tables, and gave the hall the aspect of an imperial\npavilion, partially torn down in the confusion of the flight, all assumed\nto me a horrid and bewildering splendor. The smoke was already rising\nthrough the crevices of the floor; a huge volume of yellow vapor slowly\nwreathed and arched round the chair at the head of the banquet-table. I\ncould have imaged a fearful lord of the feast under that cloudy veil.\nEverything round me was marked with preternatural fear, magnificence, and\nruin.\n\nA low groan broke my reverie. I heard the broken words:\n\n[Sidenote: Pursued by Fire]\n\n\u201cOh, bitter fruit of disobedience! Oh, my father! oh, my mother! shall\nI never see you again? For one crime I am doomed. Eternal mercy, let\nmy crime be washed away! Let my spirit ascend pure! Farewell, mother,\nsister, father, husband!\u201d\n\nWith the last word I heard a fall, as if the spirit had left the body.\n\nI sprang toward the sound\u2014I met but the solid wall.\n\n\u201cHorrible illusion!\u201d I cried. \u201cAm I mad, or the victim of the powers of\ndarkness?\u201d\n\nI tore away the hangings\u2014a door was before me. I burst it through with a\nblow of the ax, and saw stretched on the floor, and insensible\u2014Salome!\n\nI caught my child in my arms; I bathed her forehead with my tears;\nI besought her to look up, to give some sign of life, to hear the\nfull forgiveness of my breaking heart. She looked not, answered not,\nbreathed not. To make a last effort for her life, I carried her into\nthe banquet-room. But the fire had forced its way there; the storm had\ncarried the flame through the long galleries, and spires of lurid light\nalready darting through the doors, gave fearful evidence that the last\nstone of the palace must soon go down.\n\nI bore my unhappy daughter toward the window, but the height was deadly;\nno gesture could be seen through the piles of smoke; the help of man\nwas in vain. To my increased misery, the current of air revived Salome\nat the instant when I hoped that by insensibility she would escape the\nfinal pang. She breathed, stood and opening her eyes, fixed on me the\nvacant stare of one scarcely roused from sleep. Still clasped in my arms\nshe gazed again, but my wild face, covered with dust, my half-burned\nhair, the ax gleaming in my hand, terrified her; she uttered a scream and\ndarted away from me, headlong into the center of the burning. I rushed\nafter her, calling on her name. A column of fire shot up between us; I\nfelt the floor sink; all was then suffocation\u2014I struggled and fell.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\n_The Death of a Martyr_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Return to Consciousness]\n\nI awoke with a sensation of pain in every limb. A female voice was\nsinging a faint song near me. But the past was like a dream. I\ninvoluntarily looked down for the gulf on which I had trod; I looked\nupward for the burning rafters. I saw nothing but an earthen floor and a\nlow roof hung with dried grapes and herbs. I uttered a cry. The singer\napproached me. There was nothing in her aspect to nurture a diseased\nimagination; she was an old and emaciated creature who yet rejoiced in\nmy restoration. She in turn called her husband, a venerable Jew, whose\nfirst act was to offer thanksgiving to the God of Israel for the safety\nof a chief of His nation. But to my inquiries for the fate of my child,\nhe could give no answer; he had discovered me among the ruins of the\npalace of the \u00c6milii, to which he, with many of his countrymen, had been\nattracted, with the object of collecting whatever remnants of furniture\nmight be left by the flames. I had fallen by the edge of a fountain which\nextinguished the fire in its vicinage, and I was found breathing. During\nthree days I had lain insensible. The Jew now went out and brought back\nwith him some of the elders of our people, who, notwithstanding the\ndecree of the Emperor Claudius, had remained in Rome, tho in increased\nprivacy. I was carried to their house of assemblage, concealed among\ngroves and vineyards beyond the gates, and attended to with a care which\nmight cure all things but the wounds of the mind. On the great object\nof my solicitude, the fate of my Salome, I could obtain no relief. I\nwandered over the site of the palace; it was now a mass of ashes and\ncharcoal; its ruins had been probed by hundreds; but search for even a\ntrace of what would have been to me dearer than a mountain of gold, was\nin vain.\n\n[Sidenote: The Cry for Revenge]\n\nThe conflagration continued for six days, and every day of the number\ngave birth to some monstrous report of its origin. Of the fourteen\ndistricts of Rome, but four remained. Thousands had lost their lives,\ntens of thousands were utterly undone; the whole empire shook under the\nblow. Then came the still deeper horror.\n\nFear makes the individual feeble, but it makes the multitude ferocious.\nA universal cry arose for revenge. Great public misfortunes give the\nopportunity that the passions of men and sects love, and the fiercest\ncrimes of selfishness are justified under the name of retribution.\n\nBut the full calamity burst on the Christians, then too new to have\nfortified themselves in the national prejudices, if they would have\nsuffered the alliance; too poor to reckon on any powerful protectors; and\ntoo uncompromising to palliate their scorn of the whole public system of\nmorals, philosophy, and religion. The Emperor, the priesthood, and the\npopulace conspired against them, and they were ordered to the slaughter.\n\nI too had my stimulants to hatred. Where was I? In exile, in desperate\nhazard; I had been torn from home, robbed of my child, made miserable\nby the fear of apostasy in my house; and by whom was this comprehensive\nevil done? The name of Christian was gall to me. I heard of the popular\nvengeance, and called it justice; I saw the distant fires in which the\nChristians were being consumed, and calculated how many each night of\nthose horrors would subtract from the guilty number. Man becomes cruel by\nthe sight of cruelty, and when thousands and hundreds of thousands were\nshouting for vengeance; when every face looked fury, and every tongue\nwas wild with some new accusation; when the great and the little, the\nphilosopher and the ignorant, raised up one roar of reprobation against\nthe Christian, was the solitary man of mercy to be looked for in one\nbleeding from head to foot with wrongs irreparable?\n\n[Sidenote: Preparations for Executions]\n\nOn one of those dreadful nights, I was gazing from the housetop on the\nfire forcing its way through the remaining quarters, the melancholy\ngleams through the country showing the extent of the flight, and in\nthe midst of the blackened and dreary wastes of Rome, the spots of\nlivid flame where the Christians were perishing at the pile, when I was\nsummoned to a consultation below.\n\nA Jew had just brought an imperial edict proclaiming pardon of all\noffenses to the discoverer of Christians. I would not have purchased my\nlife by the life of a dog. But my safety was important to the Jewish\ncause, and I was pressed on every side by arguments on the wisdom,\nnay, the public duty, of accepting freedom on any terms. And what was\nto be the price?\u2014the life of criminals long obnoxious to the laws and\nnow stained beyond mercy. I loathed delay; I loathed Rome; I was wild\nto return to the great cause of my country, which never could have a\nfairer hope than now. An emissary was sent out; money soon effected the\ndiscovery of a Christian assemblage; I appeared before the pr\u00e6tor with my\ndocuments, and brought back in my hand the imperial pardon, given with\nthe greater good will as the assemblage chanced to comprehend the chiefs\nof the heresy. They were seized, ordered forthwith to the pile, and I was\ncommanded to be present at this completion of my national service.\n\nThe executions were in the gardens of the imperial palace, which had\nbeen thrown open by Nero for the double purpose of popularity and of\nindulging himself with the display of death at the slightest personal\ninconvenience. The crowd was prodigious, and to gratify the greatest\npossible number at once, those murders were carried on in different\nparts of the gardens. In the vineyard, a certain portion were to be\ncrucified; in the orangery, another portion were to be burned; in the\npleasure-ground, another portion were to be torn by lions and tigers;\ngladiators were to be let loose, and when the dusk came on, the whole of\nthe space was to be lighted by human torches, Christians wrapped in folds\nof linen covered with pitch and bitumen, and thus burning down from the\nhead to the ground.\n\n[Sidenote: A Christian Martyr]\n\nI was horror-struck, but escape was now impossible, and I must go through\nthe whole hideous round. With my flesh quivering, my ears ringing, my\neyes dim, I was forced to see miserable beings, men\u2014nay women, nay\ninfants\u2014sewed up in skins of beasts, and hunted and torn to pieces by\ndogs; old men, whose hoary hairs might have demanded reverence of\nsavages, scourged, racked, and nailed to the trees to die; lovely young\nfemales, creatures of guileless hearts and innocent beauty, flung on\nflaming scaffolds. And this was the work of man, civilized man, in the\nhighest civilization of the arts, the manners, and the learning of the\npagan world!\n\nBut the grand display was prepared for the time when those Christians who\nhad been denounced on my discovery were to be executed; an exhibition\nat which the Emperor himself announced his intention to be present. The\ngreat Circus was no more, but a temporary amphitheater had been erected,\nin which the usual games were exhibited during the early part of the\nday. At the hour of my arrival, the low bank circling this immense\nenclosure was filled with the first names of Rome\u2014knights, patricians,\nsenators, military tribunes, consuls; the Emperor alone was wanting to\ncomplete the representative majesty of the empire. I was to form a part\nof the ceremony, and the guard who had me in charge cleared the way to\na conspicuous place, where my national dress fixed every eye on me.\nSeveral Christians had perished before my arrival. Their remains lay\non the ground, and in their midst stood the man who was to be the next\nvictim.[29] By what influence I know not, but never did I see a human\nbeing who made on me so deep an impression. I have him before me at this\ninstant.\n\nThe victims had been generally offered life for recantation, and this\nman was giving his reply. I see the figure: low, yet with an air of\nnobleness; stooped a little with venerable age, but the countenance\nfull of life, and marked with all the traits of intellectual power; the\nstrongly aquiline nose, the bold lip, the large and rapid eye; the whole\nman conveying the idea of an extraordinary permanence of early vigor\nunder the weight of labor or of years. Even the hair was thick and black,\nwith scarcely a touch of silver. If the place and time were Athens and\nthe era of Demosthenes, I should have said that Demosthenes stood before\nme. The vivid action; the flashing rapidity with which he seized a new\nidea, and compressed it to his purpose; the impetuous argument that,\nthrowing off the formality of logic, smote with the strength of a new\nfact, were Demosthenic. Even a certain infirmity of utterance, and an\noccasional slight difficulty of words, added to the likeness; but there\nwas a hallowed glance and a solemn yet tender reach of thought interposed\namong those intense appeals that asserted the sacred superiority of the\nsubject and the man. He was already speaking when I reached the scene of\nterrors. I can give but an outline of his language.\n\n[Sidenote: The Christian Speaks]\n\nHe pointed to the headless bodies round him.\n\n\u201cFor what have these my brethren died? Answer me, priests of Rome; what\ntemple did they force\u2014what altar overthrow\u2014what insults offer to the\nslightest of your public celebrations? Judges of Rome, what offense did\nthey commit against the public peace? Consuls, where were they found in\nrebellion against the Roman majesty? People of Rome, whom among your\nthousands can charge one of these holy dead with extortion, impurity, or\nviolence; can charge them with anything but the patience that bore wrong\nwithout a murmur, and the charity that answered tortures only by prayer?\u201d\n\nHe then touched upon the nature of his faith.\n\n\u201cDo I stand here demanding to be believed for opinions? No, but for\nfacts. I have seen the sick made whole, the lame walk, the blind receive\ntheir sight, by the mere name of Him whom you crucified. I have seen\nmen, once ignorant of all languages but their own, speaking with the\nlanguage of every nation under heaven; the still greater wonder of\nthe timid defying all fear, the unlearned instantly made wise in the\nmysteries of things divine and human, the peasant putting to shame the\nlearned\u2014awing the proud, enlightening the darkened; alike in the courts\nof kings, before the furious people, and in the dungeon, armed with an\nirrepressible spirit of knowledge, reason, and truth that confounded\ntheir adversaries. I have seen the still greater wonder of the renewed\nheart; the impure suddenly abjuring vice; the covetous, the cruel, the\nfaithless, the godless, gloriously changed into the holy, the gentle, the\nfaithful, worshipers of the true God in spirit and in truth\u2014the conquest\nof the passions which defied your philosophers, your tribunals, your\nrewards, and your terrors, achieved in the one mighty name. Those are\nfacts, things which I have seen with these eyes; and who that had seen\nthem could doubt that the finger of God was there? Dared I refuse my\nbelief to the divine mission of the Being by whom, and even in memory of\nwhom, things baffling the proudest human means were wrought before my\nsenses? Irresistibly compelled by facts to believe that Christ was sent\nby God, I was with equal force compelled to believe in the doctrines\ndeclared by that glorious revealer of the King alike of quick and dead.\nAnd thus I stand before you this day, at the close of a long life of\nlabor and love, a Christian.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Faith of a Christian]\n\nThis appeal to the understanding, divested as it was of all studied\nornament, was listened to by the immense multitude with the most unbroken\ninterest. It was delivered with the strong simplicity of conviction. He\nthen spoke of the Founder of his faith.\n\n\u201cMen may be insane for opinions, but who can be insane for facts? The\ncoming of Christ was prophesied a thousand years before! From the\nbeginning of His ministry, He lived wholly before the eyes of mankind.\nHis life corresponds with the prophecies in circumstances totally beyond\nhuman conjecture, contrivance, or power. The Virgin Mother, the village\nin which He was born, the lowliness of His cradle, the worship paid to\nHim there, the hazard of His life\u2014all were predicted. Could the infant\nhave shaped the accomplishment of those predictions? The death that He\nshould die, the hands by which it was to be inflicted, even the draft\nthat He should drink, the raiment that He should be clothed in, and the\nsepulcher in which He should be laid, were predicted. Could the man have\nshaped their accomplishment? The time of His resting in the tomb, His\nresurrection, His ascent to heaven, the sending of the Holy Spirit after\nHe was gone\u2014all were predicted; all were beyond human collusion, human\npower, even beyond human thought; all were accomplished! Is not here the\nfinger of God?\n\n[Sidenote: Christ, the Crucified]\n\n\u201cThose things, too, were universally known to the nation most competent\nto detect collusion. Did Christ come to Rome, where every new religion\nfinds adherents, and where all pretensions might be advanced without\nfear; where a deceiver might have quoted prophecies that never existed,\nand vaunted of wonders done where there was no eye to detect them? No!\nHis life was spent in Judea. He made His appeal to the Scriptures, in\na country where they were in the hands of the nation. His miracles\nwere brought before the eyes of a priesthood that watched him step by\nstep; His doctrines were spoken, not to the mingled multitude holding a\nthousand varieties of opinion, and careless of all, but to an exclusive\nrace, subtle in their inquiries, eager in their zeal, and proud of their\npeculiar possession of divine knowledge.\n\n\u201cYet against His life, His miracles, or His doctrine, what charge could\nthey bring? None. There is not a single stigma on the purity of His\nconduct; the power of His wonder-working control over man and nature; the\nholiness, wisdom, and grandeur of His views of Providence; the truth,\ncharity, and meekness of His counsels to man. Their single source of\nhatred was the pride of worldly hearts, that expected a king where they\nwere to have found a teacher.\n\n\u201cTheir single charge against Him was His prophecy that there should be an\nend to their Temple and their state within the life of man.\n\n\u201cThey crucified Him; He died in prayer, that His murderers might be\nforgiven; and His prayer was mightily answered. He had scarcely risen to\nHis eternal throne when thousands believed and were forgiven. To Him be\nthe glory, forever and ever!\u201d\n\nAll this was heard in wonder. I could see eyes lifted to heaven, and lips\nas if moved in prayer.\n\n[Sidenote: A Face Inspired]\n\n\u201cCompare Him with your legislators. He gives the spirit of all law in a\nsingle sentence: \u2018Do unto others as you would they should do unto you.\u2019\nCompare Him with your priesthood. He gives a single prayer, containing\nthe substance of all that man can rationally implore of heaven. Compare\nHim with your moralists. He lays the foundation of virtue in love to\nGod! Compare him with your sages. He leads a life of privation without\na murmur; He dies a death of shame, desertion, and agony, and His last\nbreath is mercy! Compare him with your conquerors. Without the shedding\nof a drop of blood He has already conquered hosts that would have\nresisted all the swords of earth; hosts of stubborn passions, cherished\nvices, guilty perversions of the powers and faculties of man. In proof\nof all, look on these glorious dead, whom I shall join before the set of\nyonder sun. Yes, martyrs of God! ye were His conquests, and ye too are\nmore than conquerors, through Him that loved us and gave Himself for us.\nBut a triumph shall come, magnificent and terrible, when all eyes shall\nbehold Him, and the tribes of the earth, even they who pierced Him, shall\nmourn.\u201d\n\nSome raged, more listened, many wept. He spoke with still loftier energy.\n\n\u201cThen rejoice, ye dead! for ye shall rise; ye shall be clothed with\nglory; ye shall be as the angels, bright and powerful, immortal,\nintellectual kings! \u2018For tho worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh\nshall I see God.\u2019\u201d\n\nHe paused, as if he saw the vision.\n\nThe sky was cloudless; the sun was in the west, but shining in his\nbroadest beams; the whole space before me was flooded with light; when,\nas I gazed upon the martyr, I saw a gleam issue from his upturned face;\nit increased to brightness, to radiance, to an intense luster that made\nthe sunlight utterly pale. All was astonishment in the amphitheater,\nall was awe. The old man seemed unconscious of the wonder that invested\nhim. He continued with his open hands lifted up and his eyes fixed on\nheaven. The glory spread over his form, and he stood before us robed\nin an effulgence which shot from him, like a living fount of splendor,\nround the colossal circle. Yet the blaze, tho it looked the very essence\nof light, was strangely translucent; we could see with undazzled eyes\nevery feature, and whether it was the working of my overwhelmed mind, or\na true change, the countenance appeared to have passed at once from age\nto youth. A lofty joy, a look of supernal grandeur, a magnificent yet\nethereal beauty, had transformed the features of the old man into the\nlikeness of the winged sons of Immortality!\n\n[Sidenote: A Christian\u2019s Prayer]\n\nHe spoke again, and the first sound of his voice thrilled through every\nbosom and made every man start from his seat.\n\n\u201cMen and brethren! it is the desire of your Father that all should be\nsaved\u2014Jew and Gentile alike\u2014for with Him there is no respect of persons.\nHe is the Father of all! Christianity is not a philosophic dream, but a\ndivine command\u2014the summons of the God of gods, that you should accept His\nmercy\u2014the opening of the gates of an eternal world! It is not a call to\nthe practise of barren virtue, but a declaration of reward mightier than\nthe imagination of man can conceive. Would you be immortals\u2014would you be\nglorious as the stars of heaven\u2014would you possess eternal faculties of\nhappiness, supremacy, and knowledge? Ask for forgiveness of your evil,\nin the name of Jesus of Nazareth! What is easier than the price? What\nmore transcendent than the reward? Who shall tell the limit of the risen\nsoul? What resistless power, what more than regal majesty, what celestial\nbeauty may be in His fame! What expansion of intellect, what overflowing\ntides of new sensation, what shapes of loveliness, what radiant stores\nof thought and mysteries of exhaustless knowledge, may be treasured for\nHim! What endless ascent through new ranks of being, each as much more\nglorious than the last as the risen spirit is above man! For what can be\nthe limit to the power of God to make those happy, glorious, and mighty\nwhom He will? For what can be the bound to the fellow heirs with Christ,\ntheir Leader in trial, their Leader in triumph? Omnipotence for their\nprotector, for their friend, for their father! He who gave to us His own\nSon, will He not with Him give us all things?\u201d\n\nThe voice sank into prayer.\n\n[Sidenote: The Arrival of Nero]\n\n\u201cKing of kings! if through a long life I have labored in Thy cause, in\nperils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen,\nin perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the\nwilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren, in\nweariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in\ncold and nakedness\u2014Thine alone be the praise, Thine the glory, O Thou who\nhast brought me through them all, with a strong hand and an outstretched\narm. And now, Lord, Thou who shalt change my vile body into the likeness\nof Thy glorious body, be with Thy servant in this last hour! Savior and\nGod! receive my spirit, that where Thou art, even I may be with Thee!\u201d\n\nHe was silent; the splendor gradually passed away from his form, and he\nknelt upon the sand, bowing his neck to receive the blow. But to lift a\nhand against such a being seemed now an act of profanation. The ax-bearer\ndared not approach. The spectators sat hushed in involuntary homage; and\nnot a word, not a gesture broke the silence of veneration.\n\nAt length a flourish of distant trumpets was heard. Cavalry galloped\nforward, announcing the Emperor, and Nero, habited as a charioteer in the\ngames, drove his gilded car into the arena. The Christian had risen and,\nwith his hands clasped upon his breast, was awaiting death. Nero cast the\nheadsman an execration at his tardiness; the ax swept round, and when I\nglanced again, the old man lay beside his brethren.\n\nThis man I had sacrificed. My heart smote me; I would have fled the place\nof blood, but I was in the midst of guards; more of my victims were to be\nslain, and I must be the shrinking witness of all. The Emperor\u2019s arrival\ncommenced the grand display. He took his place under the curtains of the\nroyal pavilion. The dead were removed; perfumes were scattered through\nthe air; rose-water was sprinkled from silver tubes upon the exhausted\nmultitude; music resounded, incense burned, and in the midst of those\npreparations of luxury the lion-combat began.\n\nA portal of the arena opened and the combatant, with a mantle thrown\nover his face and figure, was led in surrounded by soldiery. The lion\nroared and ramped against the bars of its den at the sight. The guard\nput a sword and buckler into the hands of the Christian, and he was left\nalone. He drew the mantle from his face, and looked slowly and steadily\nround the amphitheater. His fine countenance and lofty bearing raised\na universal sound of admiration. He might have stood for an Apollo\nencountering the Python. His eyes at last turned on mine. Could I\nbelieve my senses? Constantius was before me!\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius and the Lion]\n\nAll my rancor vanished. In the moment before, I could have struck the\nbetrayer to the heart; I could have called on the severest vengeance\nof man and Heaven to smite the destroyer of my child. But to see him\nhopelessly doomed; the man whom I had honored for his noble qualities,\nwhom I had even loved, whose crime was at worst but the crime of giving\nway to the strongest temptation that can bewilder man; to see this noble\ncreature flung to the savage beast, torn piecemeal before my eyes\u2014I would\nhave cried to earth and heaven to save him. But my tongue cleaved to\nthe roof of my mouth; I would have thrown myself at the feet of Nero,\nbut I sat like a man of stone, pale, paralyzed\u2014the beating of my pulse\nstopped\u2014my eyes alone alive.\n\nThe gate of the den was now thrown back, and the lion rushed in with a\nroar and a bound that bore him half across the arena. I saw the sword\nglitter in the air; when it waved again it was covered with blood, and\na howl told that the blow had been driven home. The lion, one of the\nlargest from Numidia, and made furious by thirst and hunger, an animal of\nprodigious power, crouched for an instant as if to make sure of his prey,\ncrept a few paces onward, and sprang at the victim\u2019s throat. He was met\nby a second wound, but his impulse was irresistible, and Constantius was\nflung upon the ground.\n\nA cry of natural horror rang round the amphitheater. The struggle was now\nfor instant life or death. They rolled over each other; the lion reared\non his hind feet and with gnashing teeth and distended talons plunged\non the man; again they rose together. Anxiety was now at its wildest\nheight. The sword swung round the champion\u2019s head in bloody circles. They\nfell again. The hand of Constantius had grasped the lion\u2019s mane, and the\nfurious bounds of the monster could not loose his hold; but his strength\nwas evidently giving way; he still struck terrible blows, but each was\nweaker than the one before; till, collecting his whole force for a last\neffort, he darted one mighty blow into the lion\u2019s throat and sank. The\nsavage yelled, and, spouting out blood, fled bellowing round the arena.\nBut the hand still grasped the mane, and his conqueror was dragged\nwhirling through the dust at his heels. A universal outcry now arose to\nsave Constantius, if he were not already dead. But the lion, tho bleeding\nfrom every vein, was still too terrible, and all shrank from the hazard.\nAt length the grasp gave way and the body lay motionless on the ground.\n\n[Sidenote: The Appearance of Salome]\n\nWhat happened for some moments after I know not. There was a struggle at\nthe portal; a woman forced her way through the guards, rushed in alone,\nand flung herself upon the victim. The sight of a new prey roused the\nlion; he tore the ground with his talons; he lashed his streaming sides\nwith his tail; he lifted up his mane and bared his fangs. But he came no\nlonger with a bound; he dreaded the sword, and crept, snuffing the blood\non the sand, and stealing round the body in circuits still diminishing.\n\nThe confusion in the vast assemblage was now extreme. Voices innumerable\ncalled for aid. Women screamed and fainted. Even the hard-hearted\npopulace, accustomed as they were to the sacrifices of life, were roused\nto honest curses. The guards grasped their arms, and waited but for a\nsign of mercy from the Emperor. But Nero gave no sign. I glanced upon the\nwoman\u2019s face. It was Salome! I sprang upon my feet. I called on her name;\nI implored her to fly from that place of death, to come to my arms, to\nthink of the agonies of all who loved her.\n\nShe had raised the head of Constantius on her knee, and was wiping the\npale visage with her hair. At the sound of my voice she looked up, and\ncalmly casting back the locks from her forehead, fixed her gaze upon me.\nShe still knelt; one hand supported the head, and with the other she\npointed to it, as her only answer. I again adjured her. There was the\nsilence of death among the thousands round me. A sudden fire flashed\ninto her eye\u2014her cheek burned. She waved her hand with an air of superb\nsorrow.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI heard the gnashing of his white fangs above me.\u201d\n\n [_see page 169._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The End of the Combat]\n\n\u201cI am come to die,\u201d she uttered, in a lofty tone. \u201cThis bleeding body\nwas my husband. I have no father. The world contains for me but this\nclay in my arms. Yet,\u201d and she kissed the ashy lips before her, \u201cyet, my\nConstantius, it was to save that father that your generous heart defied\nthe peril of this hour. It was to redeem him from the hand of evil that\nyou abandoned our quiet home! Yes, cruel father, here lies the preserver\nwho threw open your dungeon, who led you safe through conflagration, who\nto the last moment of his liberty only thought how he might protect you.\u201d\n\nTears at length fell in floods from her eyes.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said she, in a tone of wild power, \u201che was betrayed, and may\nthe Power whose thunders avenge the cause of His people pour down just\nretribution upon the head that dared\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI heard my own condemnation about to be unconsciously pronounced by the\nlips of my child. Wound up to the last degree of suffering, I tore my\nway, leaped on the bars before me, and plunged into the arena by her\nside. The height was stunning; I tottered forward a few paces, and fell.\nThe lion gave a roar and sprang upon me. I lay helpless under him; I felt\nhis fiery breath; I saw his lurid eye glaring; I heard the gnashing of\nhis white fangs above me\u2014\u2014\n\nAn exulting shout arose. I saw him reel as if struck\u2014gore filled his\njaws. Another mighty blow was driven to his heart. He sprang high into\nthe air with a howl. He dropped\u2014he was dead! The amphitheater thundered\nwith acclamation.\n\nWith Salome clinging to my bosom, Constantius raised me from the ground.\nThe roar of the lion had roused him from his swoon, and two blows saved\nme. The falchion was broken in the heart of the monster. The whole\nmultitude stood up supplicating for our lives, in the name of filial\npiety and heroism. Nero, devil as he was, dared not resist the strength\nof the popular feeling; he waved a signal to the guards; the portal was\nopened, and my children, sustaining my feeble steps, and showered with\ngarlands and ornaments from innumerable hands, slowly led me from the\narena.\n\nEND OF BOOK I.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BOOK II]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\n_The Year of Jubilee_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Retrospect]\n\nThe first rage of the persecution was at an end;[30] the popular thirst\nfor blood was satiated. The natural admiration that follows fortitude\nand innocence, and the natural hatred that consigns a tyrant to the\nexecration of his time and of posterity, found their way, and Nero dared\nmurder no more. I voluntarily shared the prison of Constantius and my\nchild. Its doors were now set open. The liberality of my people supplied\nthe means of returning to Judea, and we hastened down the Tiber in the\nfirst vessel that spread her sails from this throne of desolation.\n\nThe chances that had brought us together were soon explained. Salome,\nurged to desperation by the near approach of her marriage, and anxious\nto save herself from the perjury of vowing her love to one unpossessed\nof her heart, had flown with Constantius to C\u00e6sarea. The only person in\ntheir confidence was the domestic who betrayed me into the hands of the\nprocurator, and who assisted them only that he might lure me from home.\n\n[Sidenote: The Return to Judea]\n\nAt C\u00e6sarea they were wedded, and remained in concealment, under the\nprotection of the young Septimius. My transmission to Rome struck them\nwith terror, and Constantius instantly embarked to save me by his Italian\ninfluence. The attempt was surrounded with peril, but Salome would not\nbe left behind. Disguised, to avoid my possible refusal of life at\nhis hands, he followed me step by step. There were many of our people\namong the attendants and even in the higher offices of the court. The\nEmpress had, in her reproaches to Nero, disclosed the new barbarity of\nmy sentence. No time was to be lost. Constantius, at the imminent hazard\nof life, entered the palace. He saw the block already erected in the\ngarden before the window, where Nero sat inventing a melody which was to\ngrace my departure. The confusion of the fire offered the only escape. I\nwas witness of his consternation when he made so many fruitless efforts\nto penetrate to the place where Salome remained in the care of his\nrelatives. When I scaled the burning mansion, he desperately followed,\nlost his way among the ruins, and was giving up all hope when, wrapped in\nfire and smoke, Salome fell at his feet. He bore her to another mansion\nof his family. It had given shelter to the chief Christians. They were\nseized. His young wife scorned to survive Constantius; and chance and my\nown fortunate desperation alone saved me from seeing their martyrdom.\n\nWe returned to Judea. In the first embrace of my family all was forgotten\nand forgiven. My brother rejoiced in Salome\u2019s happiness; and even her\nrejected kinsman, despite his reluctance, acknowledged the claims of him\nwho had saved the life of the father, to the daughter\u2019s hand.\n\nWhat perception of health is ever so exquisite as when we first rise\nfrom the bed of sickness? What enjoyment of the heart is so full of\ndelight as that which follows extreme suffering? I had but just escaped\nthe most formidable personal hazards; I had escaped the still deeper\nsuffering of seeing ruin fall on beings whom I would have died to rescue.\nSalome\u2019s heart, overflowing with happiness, gave new brightness to her\neyes and new animation to her lovely form. She danced with involuntary\njoy, she sang, she laughed; her fancy kindled into a thousand sparklings.\nBeautiful being! in my visions thou art still before me. I clasp thee to\nmy widowed heart, and hear thy sweet voice, sweeter than the fountain\nin the desert to the pilgrim, cheering me in the midst of my more than\npilgrimage.\n\n[Sidenote: During the Jubilee]\n\nAn accession of opulence gave the only increase, if increase could be\ngiven, to the happiness that seemed within my reach. The year of JUBILEE\narrived. Abolished as the chief customs of Judea had been by the weakness\nand guilt of idolatrous kings and generations, they were still observed\nby all who honored the faith of their fathers. The law of Jubilee was\nsacred in our mountains; it was the law of a wisdom and benevolence above\nman.\n\nIts peculiar adaptation to Israel, its provision for the virtue and\nhappiness of the individual, and its safeguard of the public strength and\nconstitutional integrity, were unrivaled amongst the finest ordinances of\nthe ancient world.\n\nOn the entrance of the Israelites into Canaan, the land was divided, by\nthe inspired command, among the tribes according to their numbers. To\neach family a portion was assigned as a gift from heaven. The gift was\nto be inalienable. The estate might be sold for a period; but in the\nfiftieth year, on the evening of the Day of Atonement, in the month of\nTishri, the sound of the trumpets from the sanctuary, echoed by thousands\nof voices from every mountain-top, proclaimed the Jubilee. Then returned,\nwithout purchase, every family to its original possessions. All the\nmore abject degradations of poverty, the wearing out of families, the\nhopeless ruin, were obviated by this great law. The most undone being in\nthe limits of Judea had still a hold in the land. His ruin could not be\nfinal, perhaps could not extend beyond a few years; in the last extremity\nhe could not be scorned as one whose birthright was extinguished; the\nJubilee was to raise him up and place the outcast in the early rank\nof the sons of Israel. All the higher feelings were cherished by this\nincomparable hope. The man, conscious of his future possessions, retained\nthe honorable pride of property under the sternest privations. The time\nwas hurrying on when he should stand on an equality with mankind, when\nhis worn spirit should begin the world again with fresh vigor, if he\nwere young; or when he should sit under the vine and the fig-tree of his\nfathers, if his age refused again to struggle for the distinctions of the\nworld.\n\n[Sidenote: The Allotment of Naphtali]\n\nThe agrarian law of Rome and Sparta, feeble efforts to establish this\ntrue foundation of personal and political vigor, showed at once both\nthe natural impulse and the weakness of human wisdom. The Roman plunged\nthe people into furious dissensions, which perished almost in their\nbirth. The Spartan was secured for a time only by barbarian prohibitions\nof money and commerce\u2014a code which raised an iron wall against\ncivilization, turned the people into a perpetual soldiery, and finally,\nby the mere result of continual war, overthrew liberty, dominion, and\nname.\n\nThe Jubilee was for a peculiar people, restricted by a divine\ninterposition from increase beyond the original number. But who shall say\nhow far the same benevolent interposition might not have been extended to\nall nations, if they had revered the original compact of heaven with man?\nHow far throughout the earth the provisions for each man\u2019s wants might\nnot have been secured\u2014the overwhelming superabundance of portionless life\nthat fills the world with crime might not have been restrained; how far\ndespotism, that growth of desperate abjectness of the understanding and\ngross corruption of the senses, might not have been repelled by manly\nknowledge and native virtue? But the time may come.\n\n[Sidenote: The Summons of Florus]\n\nIn the first allotments of the territory, ample domains had been\nappointed for the princes and leaders of the tribes. One of those\nprincedoms now returned to me, and I entered upon the inheritance of the\nleaders of Naphtali, a large extent of hill and valley, rich with corn,\nolive, and vine. The antiquity of possession gave a kind of hallowed\nand monumental interest to the soil. I was master of its wealth, but I\nindulged a loftier feeling in the recollection of those who had trod\nthe palace and the plain before me. Every chamber bore the trace of\nthose whom the history of my country had taught me to reverence; and\noften, when in some of the fragrant evenings of summer I have flung\nmyself among the thick beds of bloom that spread spontaneously over my\nhills, the spirits of the loved and honored seemed to gather round me.\nI saw once more the matron gravity and the virgin grace; even the more\nremote generations, those great progenitors who with David fought the\nPhilistine; the solemn chieftains who with Joshua followed the Ark of\nthe Covenant through toil and battle into the promised land; the sainted\nsages who witnessed the giving of the law, and worshiped Him who spake in\nthunder from Sinai; all moved before me, for all had trod the very ground\non which I gazed. Could I transfer myself back to their time, on that\nspot I should stand among a living circle of heroic and glorious beings\nbefore whose true glory the pomps of earth were vain; the hearers of the\nprophets themselves; the servants of the man of miracle, the companions\nof the friend of God; nay, distinction that surpasses human thought,\nthemselves the chosen of heaven.\n\nThe cheering occupations of rural life were to be henceforth pursued on\na scale more fitting my rank. I was the first chieftain of my tribe,\nthe man by whose wisdom multitudes were to be guided, and by whose\nbenevolence multitudes were to be sustained. I felt that mingled sense\nof rank and responsibility which with the vain, the ignorant, or the\nvicious is the strongest temptation to excess, but with the honorable and\nintelligent constitutes the most pleasurable and the most elevated state\nof the human mind.\n\nYet what are the fortunes of man but a ship launched on an element whose\nessence is restlessness? The very wind, without which we can not move,\ngathers to a storm and we are undone! The tyranny of our conquerors had\nfor a few months been paralyzed by the destruction of Rome. But the\ngovernor of Judea was not to be long withheld, where plunder allured\nthe most furious rapacity that perhaps ever hungered in the heart of\nman. I was in the midst of our harvest, surrounded with the fruitage\nof the year and enjoying the sights and sounds of patriarchal life,\nwhen I received the formidable summons to present myself again before\nFlorus. Imprisonment and torture were in the command. He had heard of\nmy opulence, and I knew how little his insolent cupidity would regard\nthe pardon under which I had returned. I determined to retire into the\nmountains and defy him.\n\n[Sidenote: The Rescue of Septimius]\n\nBut the Roman plunderer had the activity of his countrymen. On the\nvery night of my receiving the summons I was roused from sleep by the\noutcries of the retainers, who in that season of heat lay in the open air\nround the palace. I started from my bed, only to see with astonishment\nthe courtyards filled with cavalry, galloping in pursuit of the few\npeasants who still fought for their lord. There was no time to be lost;\nthe torches were already in the hands of the soldiery, and I must be\ntaken or burned alive. Constantius was instantly at my side. I ordered\nthe trumpet to be sounded on the hills and we rushed out together, spear\nin hand. The Romans, alarmed by resistance where they had counted upon\ncapture without a blow, fell back. The interval was fatal to them. Their\nretreat was intercepted by the whole body of the peasantry, at length\neffectually roused. The scythe and reaping-hook were deadly weapons to\nhorsemen cooped up between walls, and in midnight. No efforts of mine\ncould stop the havoc, when once the fury of my people was roused. A few\nescaped, who had broken wildly away in the first onset. The rest were\nleft to cover the avenues with the first sanguinary offerings of the\nfinal war of Judea.\n\nI felt that this escape could be but temporary, for the Roman policy\nnever forgave until the slightest stain of defeat was wiped away. All\nwas consternation in my family, and the order for departure, whatever\ntears it cost, found no opposition. In a few hours our camels and mules\nwere loaded, our horses caparisoned, and we were prepared to quit the\nshort-lived pomp of the house of my fathers. Constantius alone did not\nappear. This noble-minded being had won even upon me, until I considered\nhim the substitute for my lost son; and I would run the last hazard\nrather than leave him to the Roman mercy. With the women, the interest\nwas expressed by a declared resolution not to leave the spot until he was\nfound. The caravan was broken up and all desire of escape was at an end.\n\nAt the close of a day of search through every defile of the country,\nhe was seen returning at the head of some peasants bearing a body on a\nlitter. I flew to meet him. He was in deep affliction, and drawing off\nthe mantle which covered the face, he showed me Septimius.\n\n[Sidenote: Roman Plans]\n\n\u201cIn the flight of the Romans,\u201d said he, \u201cI saw a horseman making head\nagainst a crowd. His voice caught my ear. I rushed forward to save him,\nand he burst through the circle at full speed. But by the light of the\ntorches I could perceive that he was desperately wounded. When day broke,\nI tracked him by his blood. His horse, gashed by scythes, had fallen\nunder him. I found my unfortunate friend lying senseless beside a rill,\nto which he had crept for water.\u201d\n\nTears fell from his eyes as he told the brief story. I too remembered the\ngenerous interposition of the youth, and when I looked upon the paleness\nof those fine Italian features that I had so lately seen lighted up with\nliving spirit, and in a scene of regal luxury, I felt a pang for the\nuncertainty of human things. But the painful part of the moral was spared\nus. The young Roman\u2019s wounds were stanched, and in an enemy and a Roman I\nfound the means of paying a debt of gratitude. His appearance among the\ntroops sent to seize me had been only a result of his anxiety to save the\nfather of his friends. He had accidentally discovered the nature of the\norder and hoped to anticipate its execution. But he arrived only in time\nto be involved in the confusion of the flight. Pursued and wounded by\nthe peasantry, he lost his way, and but for the generous perseverance of\nConstantius he must have died.\n\nThe public information which he brought was of the most important kind.\nIn the Roman councils, the utter subjugation of Judea was resolved on;\nthe last spark of national independence was to be extinguished, tho in\nthe blood of the last native; a Roman colony established in our lands;\nthe Roman worship introduced; and Jerusalem profaned by a statue of\nNero, and sacrifices to him as a god, on the altar of the sanctuary. To\ncrush the resistance of the people, the legions, to the number of sixty\nthousand men, were under orders from proconsular Asia, Egypt, and Europe.\nThe most distinguished captain of the empire, Vespasian, was called from\nBritain to the command, and the whole military strength of Rome was\nprepared to follow up the blow.\n\n[Sidenote: The Principles of War]\n\nI summoned the chief men of the tribe. My temperament was warlike. The\nseclusion and studies of my early life had but partially suppressed my\nnatural delight in the vividness of martial achievement. But the cause\nthat now summoned me was enough to have kindled the dullest peasant into\nthe soldier. I had seen the discipline of the enemy; I had made myself\nmaster of their system of war. Fortifications wherever a stone could\nbe piled upon a hill; provisions laid up in large quantities wherever\nthey could be secured; small bodies of troops practised in maneuver,\nand perpetually in motion between the fortresses; a general base of\noperations to which all the movements referred\u2014were the simple principles\nthat had made them conquerors of the world. I resolved to give them a\nspeedy proof of my pupilage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\n_Preparing for an Attack_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Hope of Success]\n\nIndecision in the beginning of war is worse than war. I decided that\nwhatever were the consequences, the sword must be unsheathed without\ndelay. With Eleazar and Constantius, I cast my eyes over the map, and\nexamined on what point the first blow should fall. The proverbial safety\nof a multitude of councilors was obviously disregarded in the smallness\nof my council; yet few as we were, we differed upon every point but one,\nthat of the certainty of our danger; the promptitude of Roman vengeance\nsuffered no contest of opinion. Eleazar, with a spirit as manly as ever,\nfaced hazard, yet gave his voice for delay.\n\n\u201cThe sole hope of success,\u201d said he, \u201cmust depend on rousing the popular\nmind. The Roman troops are not to be beaten by any regular army in the\nworld. If we attack them on the ordinary principles of war, the result\ncan only be defeat, slaughter in dungeons, and deeper slavery. If the\nnation can be aroused, numbers may prevail over discipline; variety of\nattack may distract science; the desperate boldness of the insurgents may\nat length exhaust the Roman fortitude, and a glorious peace will then\nrestore the country to that independence for which my life would be a\nglad and ready sacrifice. But you must first have the people with you,\nand for that purpose you must have the leaders of the people\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d interrupted I, \u201cmust we first mingle in the cabals of Jerusalem\nand rouse the frigid debaters of the Sanhedrin into action? Are we first\nto conciliate the irreconcilable, to soften the furious, to purify the\ncorrupt? If the Romans are to be our tyrants till we can teach patriotism\nto faction, we may as well build the dungeon at once, for to the dungeon\nwe are consigned for the longest life among us. Death or glory for me.\nThere is no alternative between, not merely the half slavery that we\nnow live in, and independence, but between the most condign suffering\nand the most illustrious security. If the people would rise through the\npressure of public injury, they must have risen long since; if from\nprivate violence, what town, what district, what family has not its claim\nof deadly retribution? Yet here the people stand, after a hundred years\nof those continued stimulants to resistance, as unresisting as in the\nday when Pompey marched over the threshold of the Temple. I know your\ngenerous friendship, Eleazar, and fear that your anxiety to save me from\nthe chances of the struggle may bias your better judgment. But here I\npledge myself, by all that constitutes the honor of man, to strike at all\nrisks a blow upon the Roman crest that shall echo through the land. What!\ncommit our holy cause in the nursing of those pampered hypocrites whose\nutter baseness of heart you know still more deeply than I do? Linger till\nthose pestilent profligates raise their price with Florus by betraying\na design that will be the glory of every man who draws a sword in it?\nVainly, madly ask a brood that, like the serpent, engender and fatten\namong the ruins of their country to discard their venom, to cast their\nfangs, to feel for human feelings? As well ask the serpent itself to rise\nfrom the original curse. It is the irrevocable nature of faction to be\nbase until it can be mischievous; to lick the dust until it can sting; to\ncreep on its belly until it can twist its folds around the victim. No!\nlet the old pensionaries, the bloated hangers-on in the train of every\ngovernor, the open sellers of their country for filthy lucre, betray me\nwhen I leave it in their power. To the field, I say\u2014once and for all, to\nthe field.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Ardor]\n\nMy mind, at no period patient of contradiction, was fevered by the\nperplexity of the time. I was about to leave the chamber when Constantius\ngravely stopped me.\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d said he, with a voice calmer than his countenance, \u201cyou\nhave hurt our noble kinsman\u2019s feelings. It is not in an hour when our\nunanimity may fail that we should suffer dissensions between those whose\nhearts are alike embarked in this great cause. Let me mediate between\nyou.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Support of the People]\n\nHe led Eleazar back from the casement to which he had withdrawn to cool\nhis blood, burning with the offense of my language.\n\n\u201cEleazar is in the right. The Romans are irresistible by any force short\nof the whole people. They have military possession of the country\u2014all\nyour fortresses, all your posts, all your passes. They are as familiar as\nyou are with every defile, mountain, and marsh; they surround you with\nconquered provinces on the north, east, and south; your western barrier\nis open to them while it is shut to you; the sea is the high-road of\ntheir armies, while at their first forbidding, you dare not launch a\ngalley between Libanus and Idumea. Nothing can counterbalance this local\nsuperiority but the rising of your whole people.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet, are we to intrigue with the talkers in Jerusalem for this?\u201d\ninterrupted I. \u201cWhat less than a descended thunderbolt could rouse them\nto a sense that there is even a heaven above them?\u201d\n\n\u201cStill, we must have them with us,\u201d said Constantius, \u201cfor we must have\nall. Universality is the spirit of an insurrectionary war. If I were\ncommander of a revolt, I should feel greater confidence of success at\nthe head of a single province in which every human being was against the\nenemy, than at the head of an empire partially in arms. The mind even of\nthe rudest spearsman is a great portion of him. The boldest shrinks from\nthe consciousness that hostility is on all sides; that whether marching\nor at rest, watching or sleeping, by night or by day, hostility is round\nhim; that it is in the very air he breathes, in the very food he eats;\nthat every face he sees is the face of one who wishes him slain; that\nevery knife, even every trivial instrument of human use, may be turned\ninto a shedder of his blood. Those things, perpetually confronting\nhis mind, break it down until the man grows reckless, miserable,\nundisciplined, and a dastard.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d observed Eleazar, \u201cthe constant robbery of an insurrectionary war\nmust render it a favorite command.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Describes a Campaign]\n\n\u201cLet me speak from experience,\u201d said Constantius. \u201cTwo years ago I\nwas attached, with a squadron of galleys, to the expedition against\nthe tribes of Mount Taurus. While the galleys wintered in Cyprus, I\nfollowed the troops up the hills. Nothing had been omitted that would\ncounteract the severity of the season. Tents, provisions, clothing\nadapted to the hills, even luxuries despatched from the islands, gave\nthe camps almost the indulgences of cities. The physical hardships of\nthe campaign were trivial compared with those of hundreds in which the\nRomans had beaten regular armies. Yet the discontent was indescribable,\nfrom the perpetual alarms of the service. The mountaineers were not\nnumerous and were but half armed; they were not disciplined at all. A\nRoman centurion would have outmaneuvered all their captains. But they\nwere brave; they knew nothing but to kill or be killed, and it made no\ndifference to them whether Death did his work by night or by day. Sleep\nto us was scarcely possible. To sit down on a march was to be leveled at\nby a score of arrows; to pursue the archers was to be lured into some\nhollow, where a fragment of the rock above or a felled tree, was ready\nto crush the legionaries. We chased them from hill to hill; we might as\nwell have chased the vultures and eagles that duly followed us, with the\nperfect certainty of not being disappointed of their meal. Wherever the\nenemy showed themselves they were beaten, but our victory was totally\nfruitless. The next turn of the mountain road was a stronghold, from\nwhich we had to expect a new storm of arrows, lances, and fragments of\nrock.\n\n\u201cThe mountaineers always had a retreat,\u201d he continued. \u201cIf we drove them\nfrom the pinnacles of the hills, they were in a moment in the valleys,\nwhere we must follow them at the risk of falling down precipices and\nbeing swallowed up by torrents, in which the strongest swimmer in the\nlegions could not live for a moment. If we drove them from the valleys,\nwe saw them scaling the mountains as if they had wings, and scoffing at\nour tardy and helpless movements, encumbered as we were with baggage and\narmor. We at length forced our way through the mountain range, and when\nwith the loss of half the army we had reached their citadel, we found\nthat the work was to be begun again. To remain where we were was to be\nstarved; we had defeated the barbarians, but they were as unconquered as\never, and our only resource was to retrace our steps, which we did at\nthe expense of a battle every morning, noon, evening, and night, with\na ruinous loss of life and the total abandonment of everything in the\nshape of baggage. The defeat was of course hushed up, and according to\nthe old Roman policy, the escape was colored to a victory; I had the\nhonor of carrying back the general into Italy, where he was decreed an\novation, a laurel crown, and a crowd of the usual distinctions; but the\ntriumph belonged to the men of the mountains, and until our campaign is\nforgotten, no Roman captain will look for his laurels in Mount Taurus\nagain.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Force of Invasion]\n\n\u201cSuch forever be the fate of wars against the natural freedom of the\nbrave,\u201d said I; \u201cbut the Cicilians had the advantage of an almost\nimpenetrable country. Three-fourths of Judea is already in the enemy\u2019s\npossession.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo country in which man can exist can be impenetrable to an invading\narmy,\u201d was the reply. \u201cNatural defenses are trifling before the vigor and\ndexterity of man. The true barrier is in the hearts of the defenders.\nWe were masters of the whole range. We could not find a thousand men\nassembled on any one point. Yet we were not the actual possessors of a\nmile of ground beyond the square of our camp. We never saw a day without\nan attack, nor ever lay down at night without the certainty of some\nfierce attempt at a surprise. It was this perpetual anxiety that broke\nthe spirits of the troops. All was in hostility to them. They felt that\nthere was not a secure spot within the horizon. Every man whom they saw,\nthey knew to be one who either had drawn Roman blood or who longed in his\ninmost soul to draw it. They dared not pass by a single rock without a\nsearch for a lurking enemy. Even a felled tree might conceal some daring\nsavage, who was content to die on the Roman spears, after having flung\nhis unerring lance among the ranks or shot an arrow that went through the\nthickest corslet. I have seen the boldest of the legionaries sink on the\nground in absolute exhaustion of heart with this hopeless and wearying\nwarfare. I have seen men with muscles strong as iron weep like children\nthrough mere depression. With the harsher spirits, all was execration and\nbitterness, even to the verge of mutiny. With the more generous all was\nregret at the waste of honor, mingled with involuntary admiration of the\nbarbarians who thus defied the haughty courage and boasted discipline of\nthe conquerors of mankind. The secret spring of their resistance was its\nuniversality. Every man was embarked in the common cause. There was no\nroom for evasion under cover of a party disposed to peace; there was no\nRoman interest among the people, in which timidity or selfishness could\ntake refuge. The national cause had not a lukewarm friend; the invaders\nhad not a dubious enemy. The line was drawn with the sword, and the cause\nof national independence triumphed, as it ought to triumph.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Determination]\n\n\u201cBut we are a people split into as many varieties of opinion as there are\nprovinces or even villages in Judea,\u201d observed Eleazar; \u201cthe Jew loves\nto follow the opinions of the head of his family, the chief man of his\ntribe, or even of the priest, who has long exercised an influence over\nhis district. We have not the slavishness of the Asiatic, but we still\nwant the personal choice of the European. We must secure the leaders, if\nwe would secure the people.\u201d\n\n\u201cMen,\u201d said Constantius, \u201care intrinsically the same in every climate\nunder heaven. They will all hate hazard, where nothing but hazard is to\nbe gained. They will all linger for ages in slavery, where the taskmaster\nhas the policy to avoid sudden violence; but they will all encounter the\nseverest trials, where in the hour of injury they find a leader prepared\nto guide them to honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd to that extent they shall have trial of me!\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cBefore\nanother Sabbath I shall make the experiment of my fitness to be the\nleader of my countrymen. At the head of my own tribe I will march to the\nHoly City, seize the garrison, and from Herod\u2019s palace, from the very\nchair of the Procurator, will I at once silence the voice of faction and\nlift the banner to the tribes of Israel.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Stronghold of Masada]\n\n\u201cNobly conceived,\u201d said Constantius, his countenance glowing with\nanimation; \u201cblow upon blow is the true tactic of an insurrectionary war.\nWe must strike at once, suddenly, and boldly. The sword of him who would\ntriumph in a revolt must not merely sound on the enemy\u2019s helmet, but cut\nthrough it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet to a march on Jerusalem,\u201d said Eleazar, \u201cthe objections are\npalpable. The city would be out of all hope of a surprise, difficult to\ncapture, and beyond all chance to keep.\u201d\n\n\u201cEver tardy, thwarting, and contradictory!\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cif the Roman\nscepter lay under my heel, I should find Eleazar forbidding me to crush\nit. My mind is fixed; I will hear no more.\u201d\n\nI started from my seat and paced the chamber. Eleazar approached me.\n\n\u201cMy brother,\u201d said he, holding out his hand with a forgiving smile, \u201c_we_\nmust not differ. I honor your heart, Salathiel; I know your talents;\nthere is not a man in Judea whom I should be prouder to see at the head\nof its councils. I agree with you in your views, and now I offer you\nmyself and every man whom I can influence to follow you to the last\nextremity. The only question is, where the blow is to fall.\u201d\n\nConstantius had been gazing on the chart of Judea, which lay between us\non the table.\n\n\u201cIf it be our object,\u201d said he, \u201cto combine injury to the Romans with\nactual advantage to ourselves, to make a trial where failure can not be\nruinous and where success may be of measureless value, here is the spot.\u201d\nHe pointed to Masada.[31]\n\nThe fortress of Masada was built by Herod the Great as his principal\nmagazine of arms. A fierce and successful soldier, one of his luxuries\nwas the variety and costliness of his weapons, and the royal armory of\nMasada was renowned throughout Asia. Pride in the possession of such a\ntrophy, probably aided by some reverence for the memory of the friend\nof C\u00e6sar and Antony, whom the legions still almost worshiped as tutelar\ngenii, originally saved it from the usual Roman spoliation. But no\nnative foot was permitted to enter the armory, and mysterious stories\nof the sights and sounds of those splendid halls filled the ears of the\npeople. Masada was held to be the talisman of the Roman power over Judea\nby more than the people; the belief had made its way among the legions,\nand no capture could be a bolder omen of the war.\n\n[Sidenote: The Preparations]\n\nI still preferred the more direct blow on Jerusalem, and declaimed on\nthe vital importance in all wars, of seizing on the capital. But I\nwas controlled. Eleazar\u2019s grave wisdom and the science of Constantius\ndeprived me of argument, and the attack on Masada was finally planned\nbefore we left the chamber. Nothing could be more primitive than our plan\nfor the siege of the most scientific fortification in Judea, crowded with\nmen and furnished with every implement and machine of war that Roman\nexperience could supply. Our simple preparations were a few ropes for\nladders, a few hatchets for cutting down gates and palisadoes, and a few\nfaggots for setting on fire what we could. Five hundred of our tribe, who\nhad never thrown a lance but in hunting, formed our expedition, and at\nthe head of those, Constantius, who claimed the exploit by the right of\ndiscovery, was to march at dusk, conceal himself in the forests during\nthe day, and on the evening of his arrival within reach of the fortress\nattempt it by surprise. Eleazar was, in the mean time, to rouse his\nretainers, and I was to await at their head the result of the enterprise,\nand if successful, unfurl the standard of Naphtali and advance on\nJerusalem.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\n_The Departure of Constantius_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Hour of Banquet]\n\nThe remainder of this memorable day lingered on with a tardiness beyond\ndescription. The criminal who counts the watches of the night before\nhis execution has but a faint image of that hot and yet pining anxiety,\nthat loathing of all things unconnected with the one mighty event, that\nmixture of hopelessness and hope, that morbid nervousness of every fiber\nin his frame, which make up the suspense of the conspirator in even the\nnoblest cause.\n\nWhen the hour of banquet came, I sat down in the midst of magnificence,\nas was the custom of my rank. The table was filled with guests; all\naround me was gaiety and pomp, high-born men, handsome women, richly\nattired attendants; plate, the work of Tyrian and Greek artists, in its\nmassive beauty; walls covered with tissues; music filling the air cooled\nby fountains of perfumed waters. I felt as little of them as if I were\nin the wilderness. The richest wines, the most delicate fruits, palled\non my taste. If I had one wish, it was that for the next forty-eight\nhours oblivion might amount to insensibility! At my wife and daughters I\nventured but one glance. I thought that I had never before seen them look\nso fitted to adorn their rank, to be the models of grace, loveliness, and\nhonor, to society, and the thought smote my heart\u2014how soon may all this\nbe changed!\n\nMy eyes sought Constantius; he had just returned from his preparations,\nand came in glowing with the enthusiasm of the soldier. He sat down\nbeside Salome, and his cheek gradually turned to the hue of death.\nHe sat like myself, absorbed in frequent reverie, and to the playful\nsolicitations of Salome that he would indulge in the table after his\nfatigue, he gave forced smiles and broken answers. The future was\nplainly busy with us both; with all that the heart of man could love\nbeside him, he felt the pang of contrast, and when on accidentally\nlifting his eyes, they met mine, the single conscious look interchanged\ntold the perturbation that preyed on both in the heart\u2019s core.\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Seeks Salathiel]\n\nI soon rose, and under pretense of having letters to despatch to our\nfriends in Rome, retired to my chamber. There lay the chart still\non the table, the route to Masada marked by pencil lines. With what\nbreathlessness I now traced every point and bearing of it! There, within\na space over which I could stretch my arm, was my world. In that little\nboundary was I to struggle against the supremacy that covered the earth!\nThose fairy hills, those scarcely visible rivers, those remote cities,\ndots of human habitation, were to be henceforth the places of siege and\nbattle, memorable for the destruction of human life, engrossing every\nenergy of myself and my countrymen, and big with the fates of generations\non generations.\n\nIt was dusk, and I was still devouring with my eyes this chart of\nprophecy when Constantius entered.\n\n\u201cI have come,\u201d said he gravely, \u201cto bid you farewell for the night. In\ntwo days I hope we shall all meet again.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, my brave son,\u201d I interrupted, \u201cwe do not leave each other to-night.\u201d\n\nHe looked surprised. \u201cI must be gone this instant. Eleazar has done his\npart with the activity of his honest and manly mind. Two miles off, in\nthe valley under the date-grove, I have left five hundred of the finest\nfellows that ever sat a charger. In half an hour Sirius rises; then we\ngo, and let the governor of Masada look to it! Farewell, and wish me good\nfortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay every angel that protects the righteous cause hover above your\nhead!\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cbut no farewell, for we go together.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Departs]\n\n\u201cDo you doubt my conduct of the enterprise?\u201d asked he strongly. \u201c\u2019Tis\ntrue I have been in the Roman service, but that service I hated from the\nbottom of my soul. I was a Greek and bound to Rome no longer than she\ncould hold me in her chain. If I could have found men to follow me, I\nshould have done in Cyprus what I now do in Judea. The countryman of\nLeonidas, Cimon, and Timeleon was not born to hug his slavery. I am now a\nson of Judea; to her my affections have been transplanted, and to her, if\nshe does not reject me, shall my means and my life be given.\u201d\n\nHe relaxed the belt from his waist and dropped it with his simitar on the\nground. I lifted it and placed it again in his hand.\n\n\u201cNo, Constantius,\u201d I replied, \u201cI honor your zeal, and would confide in\nyou if the world hung upon the balance. But I can not bear the thought\nof lingering here while you are in the field. My mind, within these few\nhours, has been on the rack. I must take the chances with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is utterly impossible,\u201d was his firm answer; \u201cyour absence would\nexcite instant suspicion. The Roman spies are everywhere. The natural\nresult follows, that our march would be intercepted, and I am not sure\nbut that even now we may be too late. That inconceivable sagacity by\nwhich the Romans seem to be masters of every man\u2019s secret has been\nalready at work; troops were seen on the route to Masada this very day.\nLet it be known that the prince of Naphtali has left his palace, and the\ndozen squadrons of Thracian horse which I saw within those four days at\nTiberias will be riding through your domains before the next sunset.\u201d\n\nThis reflection checked me. \u201cWell then,\u201d said I, \u201cgo, and the protection\nof Him whose pillar of cloud led His people through the sea and through\nthe desert be your light in the hour of peril!\u201d\n\nI pressed his hand; he turned to depart, but came back, and after a\nslight hesitation said: \u201cIf Salome had once offended her noble father by\nher flight, the offense was mine. Forgive her, for her heart is still\nthe heart of your child. She loves you. If I fall, let the memory of our\ndisobedience lie in my grave!\u201d\n\nHis voice stopped, and mine could not break the silence.\n\n\u201cLet what will come,\u201d resumed he with an effort, \u201ctell Salome that the\nlast word on my lips was her name.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Festal Scene]\n\nHe left the chamber, and I felt as if a portion of my being had gone\nforth from me.\n\nThis day was one of the many festivals of our country, and my halls\nechoed with sounds of enjoyment. The immense gardens glittered with\nillumination in all the graceful devices of which our people were such\nmasters, and when I looked out for the path of Constantius, I was\nabsolutely pained by the sight of so much fantastic pleasure while my\nhero was pursuing his way through darkness and danger.\n\nAt length the festival was over. The lights twinkled fainter among the\narbors, the sounds of glad voices sank, and I saw from my casement\nthe evidences of departure in the trains of torches that moved up the\nsurrounding hills. The sight of a starlit sky has always been to me\namong the softest and surest healers of the heart, and I gazed upon that\nmighty scene which throws all human cares into such littleness, until my\ncomposure returned.\n\nThe last of the guests had left the palace before I ventured to descend.\nThe vases of perfumes still breathed in the hall of the banquet; the\nalabaster lamps were still burning; but excepting the attendants who\nwaited on my steps at a distance, and whose fixed figures might have been\ntaken for statues, there was not a living being near me of the laughing\nand joyous crowd that had so lately glittered, danced, and smiled within\nthose sumptuous walls. Yet what was this but a picture of the common\nrotation of life? Or by a yet more immediate moral, what was it but a\npicture of the desertion that might be coming upon me and mine? I sat\ndown to extinguish my sullen philosophy in wine. But no draft that ever\npassed the lip could extinguish the fever that brooded on my spirit. I\ndreaded that the presence of my family might force out my secret, and\nlingered with my eyes gazing, without sight, on the costly covering of\nthe board.\n\n[Sidenote: A Beautiful Group]\n\nA sound of music from an inner hall to which Miriam and her daughters had\nretired, aroused me. I stood at the door, gazing on the group within.\nThe music was a hymn with which they closed the customary devotions of\nthe day. But there was something in its sound to me that I had never\nfelt before. At the moment when those sweet voices were pouring out the\ngratitude of hearts as innocent and glowing as the hearts of angels,\na scene of horror might be acting. The husband of Salome might be\nstruggling with the Roman sword; nay, he might be lying a corpse under\nthe feet of the cavalry, that before morn might bring the news of his\ndestruction in the flames that might startle us from our sleep, and the\nswords that might pierce our bosoms.\n\nAnd what beings were those thus appointed for the sacrifice? The lapse\nof even a few years had perfected the natural beauty of my daughters.\nSalome\u2019s sparkling eye was more brilliant; her graceful form was molded\ninto more easy elegance, and her laughing lip was wreathed with a more\nplayful smile. Never did I see a creature of deeper witchery. My Esther,\nmy noble and dear Esther, who was perhaps the dearer to me from her\ninheriting a tinge of my melancholy, yet a melancholy exalted by genius\ninto a charm, was this night the leader of the song of holiness. Her\nlarge uplifted eye glowed with the brightness of one of the stars on\nwhich it was fixed. Her hands fell on the harp in almost the attitude of\nprayer, and the expression of her lofty and intellectual countenance,\ncrimsoned with the theme, told of a communion with thoughts and beings\nabove mortality. The hymn was done, the voices had ceased, yet the\ninspiration still burned in her soul; her hands still shook from the\nchords\u2019 harmonies, sweet, but of the wildest and boldest brilliancy;\nbursts and flights of sound, like the rushing of the distant waterfall at\nnight, or the strange, solemn echoes of the forest in the first swell of\nthe storm.\n\nMiriam and Salome sat beholding her in silent admiration and love. The\nmagnificent dress of the Jewish female could not heighten the power\nof such beauty; but it filled up the picture. The jeweled tiaras, the\nembroidered shawls, the high-wrought and massive armlets, the silken\nrobes and sashes fringed with pearl and diamond, the profusion of\ndazzling ornament that form the Oriental costume to this day, were the\ntrue habits of the beings that then sat, unconscious of the delighted yet\nanxious eye that drank in the joy of their presence. I saw before me the\npomp of princedoms, investing forms worthy of thrones.\n\nMy entrance broke off the harper\u2019s spell, and I found it a hard task to\nanswer the touching congratulations that flowed upon me. But the hour\nwaned, and I was again left alone for the few minutes which it was my\ncustom to give to meditation before I retired to rest. I threw open the\ndoor that led into a garden thick with the Persian rose and filling the\nair with cool fragrance. At my first glance upward, I saw Sirius\u2014he was\non the verge of the horizon.\n\n[Sidenote: The Fate of Constantius]\n\nThe thoughts of the day again gathered over my soul. I idly combined\nthe fate of Constantius with the decline of the star that he had taken\nfor his signal. My senses lost their truth, or contributed to deceive\nme. I fancied that I heard sounds of conflict; the echo of horses\u2019 feet\nrang in my ears. A meteor that slowly sailed across the sky struck me\nas a supernatural summons. My brain, fearfully excitable since my great\nmisfortune, at length kindled up such strong realities that I found\nmyself on the point of betraying the burden of my spirit by some palpable\ndisclosure.\n\nTwice had I reached the door of Miriam\u2019s chamber to tell her my whole\nperplexity. But I heard the voice of her attendants within and again\nshrank from the tale. I ranged the long galleries perplexed with\ncapricious and strange torments of the imagination.\n\n\u201cIf he should fall,\u201d said I, \u201chow shall I atone for the cruelty of\nsending him upon a service of such hopeless hazard\u2014a few peasants with\nnaked breasts against Roman battlements? What soldier would not ridicule\nmy folly in hoping success; what man would not charge me with scorn\nof the life of my kindred? The blood of my tribe will be upon my head\nforever. There sinks the prince of Naphtali! In the grave of my gallant\nson and his companions is buried my dream of martial honor; the sword\nthat strikes him cuts to the ground my last ambition of delivering my\ncountry.\u201d\n\nThe advice of Constantius returned to my mind, but like the meeting of\ntwo tides, it was only to increase the tumult within. I felt the floor\nshake under my hurried tread. I smote my forehead\u2014it was covered with\ndrops of agony. The voices within my wife\u2019s chamber had ceased. But was\nI to rouse her from her sleep, perhaps the last quiet sleep that she was\never to take, only to hear intelligence that must make her miserable?\n\nI leaned my throbbing forehead upon one of the marble tables, as if to\nimbibe coolness from the stone. I felt a light hand upon mine. Miriam\nstood beside me.\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam\u2019s Comfort]\n\n\u201cSalathiel!\u201d pronounced she in an unshaken voice, \u201cthere is something\npainful on your mind. Whether it be only a duty on your part to disclose\nit to me, I shall not say; but if you think me fit to share your happier\nhours, must I have the humiliation of feeling that I am to be excluded\nfrom your confidence in the day when those hours may be darkened?\u201d\n\nI was silent, for to speak was beyond my strength, but I pressed her\ndelicate fingers to my bosom.\n\n\u201cMisfortune, my dear husband,\u201d resumed she, \u201cis trivial but when it\nreaches the mind. Oh, rather let me encounter it in the bitterest\nprivations of poverty and exile; rather let me be a nameless outcast\nto the latest year I have to live, than feel the bitterness of being\nforgotten by the heart to which, come life or death, mine is bound\nforever and ever.\u201d\n\nI glanced up at her. Tears dropped on her cheeks, but her voice was firm.\n\n\u201cI have observed you,\u201d said she, \u201cin deep agitation during the day, but I\nforbore to press you for the cause. I have listened now, till long past\nmidnight, to the sound of your feet, to the sound of groans and pangs\nwrung from your bosom; nay, to exclamations and broken sentences which\nhave let me most involuntarily into the knowledge that this disturbance\narises from the state of our country. I know your noble nature, and I say\nto you, in this solemn and sacred hour of danger, follow the guidance of\nthat noble nature.\u201d\n\nI cast my arms about her neck and imprinted upon her lips a kiss as true\nas ever came from human love. She had taken a weight from my soul. I\ndetailed the whole design to her. She listened with many a change from\nred to pale, and many a tremor of the white hand that lay in mine. When I\nceased, the woman in her broke forth in tears and sighs.\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said she, \u201cyou must go to the field. Dismiss the thought that\nfor the selfish desire of looking even upon you in safety here I should\nhazard the dearer honor of my lord. It is right that Judea should make\nthe attempt to shake off her tyranny. The people can never be deceived\nin their own cause. Kings and courts may be deluded into the choice of\nincapacity, but the man whom a people will follow from their firesides\nmust bear the stamp of a leader.\u201d\n\n\u201cAdmirable being!\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cworthy to be honored while Israel has\na name! Then I have your consent to follow Constantius. By speed I may\nreach him before he can have arrived at the object of the enterprise.\nFarewell, my best-beloved\u2014farewell!\u201d\n\nShe fell into my arms in a passion of tears, but at length recovered and\nsaid:\n\n[Sidenote: Go, Prince of Naphtali!]\n\n\u201cThis is weakness, the mere weakness of surprise. Yes; go, prince of\nNaphtali. No man must take the glory from you. Constantius is a hero,\nbut you must be a king, and more than a king; not the struggler for the\nglories of royalty, but for the glories of the rescuer of the people of\nGod. The first blow of the war must not be given by another, dear as he\nis. The first triumph, the whole triumph, must be my lord\u2019s.\u201d\n\nShe knelt down and poured out her soul to Heaven in eloquent supplication\nfor my safety. I listened in speechless homage.\n\n\u201cNow go,\u201d sighed she, \u201cand remember in the day of battle who will then be\nin prayer for you. Court no unnecessary peril, for if you perish, which\nof us would desire to live?\u201d\n\nShe again sank upon her knees, and I in reverent silence descended from\nthe gallery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\n_Salathiel in Strange Company_\n\n\n[Sidenote: On the Road]\n\nMy preparations were quickly made. I divested myself of my robes, led\nout my favorite barb, flung a haik over my shoulders, and by the help\nof my Arab turban might have passed for a plunderer in any corner of\nSyria. This was done unseen by any eye, for the crowd of attendants that\nthronged the palace in the day were now stretched through the courts,\nor on the terraces, fast asleep, under the double influence of a day of\nfeasting and a night of tepid summer air. I rode without stopping until\nthe sun began to throw up his yellow rays through the vapors of the Lake\nof Tiberias. Then to ascertain alike the progress of Constantius and to\navoid the chances of meeting with some of those Roman squadrons which\nwere continually moving between the fortresses, I struck off the road\ninto a forest, tied my barb to a tree, and set forth to reconnoiter the\nscene.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Meets Strangers]\n\nTraveling on foot was the common mode in a country which, like Judea,\nwas but little fitted for the breed of horses, and I found no want of\ncompanions. Pedlers, peasants, disbanded soldiers, and probably thieves\ndiversified my knowledge of mankind within a few miles. I escaped under\nthe sneer of the soldier and the compassion of the peasant. The first\nglance at my wardrobe satisfied the robber that I was not worth the\nexercise of his profession, or perhaps that I was a brother of the\ntrade. I here found none of the repulsiveness that makes the intercourse\nof higher life so unproductive. Confidence was on every tongue, and I\ndiscovered, even in the sandy ways of Palestine, that to be a judicious\nlistener is one of the first talents for popularity all over the world.\nBut of my peculiar objects I could learn nothing, though every man whom\nI met had some story of the Romans. I ascertained, to my surprise, that\nthe intelligence which Septimius brought from the imperial cabinet was\nknown to the multitude. Every voice of the populace was full of tales,\nprobably reckoned among the profoundest secrets of the state. I have made\nthe same observation in later eras, and found, even in the most formal\nmysteries of the most frowning governments, the rumor of the streets\noutruns the cabinets. So it must be while diplomatists have tongues and\nwhile women and domestics have curiosity.\n\nBut if I were to rely on the accuracy of those willing politicians, the\ncause of independence was without hope. Human nature loves to make itself\nimportant, and the narrator of the marvelous is always great, according\nto the distention of his news. Those who had seen a cohort, invariably\nmagnified it into a legion; a troop of cavalry covered half a province;\nand the cohorts marching from Asia Minor and Egypt for our garrisons,\nwere reckoned by the very largest enumeration within the teller\u2019s\ncapacity.\n\nAs I was sitting by a rivulet, moistening some of the common bread of\nthe country which I had brought to aid my disguise, I entered into\nconversation with one of those unhoused exiles of society whom at the\nfirst glance we discern to be nature\u2019s commoners, indebted to no man for\nfood, raiment, or habitation, the native dweller on the road. He had some\nof the habitual jest of those who have no care, and congratulated me on\nthe size of my table, the meadow, and the unadulterated purity of my\npotation, the brook. He informed me that he came direct from the Nile,\nwhere he had seen the son of Vespasian at the head of a hundred thousand\nmen. A Syrian soldier, returning to Damascus, who joined our meal, felt\nindignant at the discredit thus thrown on a general under whom he had\nreceived three pike-wounds and leave to beg his way home. He swore by\nAshtoreth that the force under Titus was at least twice the number.\n\nA third wanderer, a Roman veteran, of whom the remainder was covered over\nwith glorious patches, arrived just in time to relieve his general from\nthe disgrace of so limited a command, and another hundred thousand was\ninstantly put under his orders; sanctioned by asseverations in the name\nof Jupiter Capitolinus, and as many others of the calendar as the patriot\ncould pronounce. This rapid recruiting threw the former authorities into\nthe background, and the old legionary was, for the rest of the meal, the\nundisputed leader of the conversation. They had evidently heard some\nrumor of our preparations.\n\n[Sidenote: A Conversation]\n\n\u201cTo suppose,\u201d said the veteran, \u201cthat those circumcized dogs can stand\nagainst a regular-bred Roman general is sacrilege. Half his army, or a\ntenth of his army, would walk through the land, north and south, east and\nwest, as easily as I could walk through this brook.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt of it,\u201d said the Syrian, \u201cif they had some of our cavalry for\nflanking and foraging.\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, for anything but fighting, comrade,\u201d said the Roman with a laugh.\n\n\u201cNo; you leave out another capital quality,\u201d observed the beggar, \u201cfor\nnone can deny that whoever may be first in the advance, the Syrians will\nbe first in the retreat. There are two maneuvers to make a complete\nsoldier\u2014how to get into the battle, and how to get out of it. Now, the\nSyrians manage the latter in the most undoubted perfection.\u201d\n\n\u201cSilence, villain,\u201d exclaimed the Syrian, \u201cor you have robbed your last\nhen-roost in this world.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe says nothing but the truth for all that,\u201d interrupted the veteran.\n\u201cBut neither of us taxed your cavalry with cowardice. No; it was pure\nvirtue. They had too much modesty to take the way into the field before\nother troops, and too much humanity not to teach them how to sleep\nwithout broken bones.\u201d\n\nThe beggar, delighted at the prospect of a quarrel, gave the assent that\nmore embroiled the fray.\n\n\u201cMark Antony did not say so,\u201d murmured the indignant Syrian.\n\n\u201cMark Antony!\u201d cried the Roman, starting upon his single leg, \u201cglory to\nhis name! But what could a fellow like you know about Mark Antony?\u201d\n\n\u201cI only served with him,\u201d dryly answered the Syrian.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Hears of Masada]\n\n\u201cThen here\u2019s my hand for you,\u201d exclaimed the brave old man, \u201cwe are\ncomrades. I would love even a dog that had seen the face of Mark Antony.\nHe was the first man that I ever carried buckler under. Aye, there was\na soldier for you; such men are not made in this puling age. He could\nfight from morn till night, and carouse from night till morn, and never\nlose his seat on his charger in the field the day after. I have seen him\nrun half naked through the snows in Armenia, and walk in armor in the\nhottest day of Egypt. He loved the soldier, and the soldier loved him.\nSo, comrade, here\u2019s to the health of Mark Antony. Ah, we shall never see\nsuch men again.\u201d\n\nHe drew out a flask of ration wine, closely akin to vinegar, of which he\nhospitably gave us each a cup, and after pouring a libation to his hero\u2019s\nmemory, whom he evidently placed among his gods, swallowed the draft, in\nwhich we devoutly followed his example.\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said the beggar, \u201cif Antony was a great man, he has left\nlittle men enough behind him. There\u2019s, for instance, the present gay\nprocurator\u2014six months in the gout, the other six months drunk, or if\nsober only thinking where he can rob next. This will bring the government\ninto trouble before long, or I\u2019m much mistaken. For my part, I pledge\nmyself if he should take any part of my property\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, if he did,\u201d said the Syrian, \u201cI give him credit for magic. He could\nfind a crop of wheat in the sand or coin money out of the air. Where does\nyour estate lie?\u201d\n\n\u201cComrade,\u201d said the veteran, laughing, \u201crecollect; if the saying be true\nthat people are least to be judged of by the outside, the rags of our\njovial friend must hide many a shekel; and as to where his estate lies,\nhe has a wide estate who has the world for his portion, and money enough\nwho thinks all his own that he can lay his fingers on.\u201d\n\nThe laugh was now loud against the beggar. He, however, bore all, like\none accustomed to the buffets of fortune, and, joining in it, said:\n\n[Sidenote: Dreams of Beggars]\n\n\u201cWhatever may be my talents in that way, there is no great chance of\nshowing them in this company; but if you should be present at the sack\nof Masada, and I should meet you on your way back\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cMasada!\u201d exclaimed I instinctively.\n\n\u201cYes, I left the town three days ago. On that very morning an order\narrived to prepare for the coming of the great and good Florus, who in\nhis wisdom, feeling the want of gold, has determined to fill up the\nhollows of the military chest and his own purse by stripping the armory\nof everything that can sell for money. My intelligence is from the best\nauthority. The governor\u2019s principal bath-slave told it to one of the\ndamsels of the steward\u2019s department, with whom the Ethiopian is mortally\nin love, and the damsel, in a moment of confidence, told it to me. In\nfact, to let you into _my_ secret, I am now looking out for Florus, in\nwhose train I intend to make my way back into this gold-mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe villain!\u201d cried the veteran; \u201cdisturb the arms of the dead! Why,\nthey say that it has the very corselet and buckler that Mark Antony wore\nwhen he marched against the Idumeans.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear more the disturbance of the arms of the living,\u201d said the Syrian;\n\u201cthe Jews will take it for granted that the Romans are giving up the\nbusiness in despair, and if I\u2019m a true man, there will be blood before I\nget home.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo fear of that, fellow soldier,\u201d said the veteran gaily; \u201cyou have kept\nyour two legs, and when they have so long carried you out of harm\u2019s way,\nit would be the worst treatment possible to leave you in it at last. But\nthere is something in what you say. I had a dream last night. I thought\nthat I saw the country in a blaze, and when I started from my sleep, my\nears were filled with a sound like the trampling of ten thousand cavalry.\u201d\n\nI drew my breath quickly, and to conceal my emotion, gathered up the\nfragments of our meal. On completing my work, I found the beggar\u2019s eye\nfixed on me,\u2014he smiled.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Discovered]\n\n\u201cI too had a dream last night,\u201d said he, \u201cand of much the same kind. I\nthought that I saw a cloud of cavalry, riding as fast as horse could lay\nhoof to ground; I never saw a more dashing set since my first campaign\nupon the highways of this wicked world. I\u2019ll be sworn that whatever\ntheir errand may be, such riders will not come back without it. Their\nhorses\u2019 heads were turned toward Masada, and I am now between two minds,\nwhether I may not mention my dream to the procurator himself.\u201d\n\nI found his keen eye turned on me again.\n\n\u201cAbsurd!\u201d said I; \u201che would recommend you only to his lictor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI rather think he would recommend me to his treasurer, for I never had a\ndream that seemed so like a fact. I should not be surprised to find that\nI had been sleeping with my eyes open.\u201d\n\nHis look convinced me that I was known! I touched his hand, while the\nsoldiers were busy packing up their cups, and showed him gold. He smiled\ncarelessly. I laid my hand on my poniard; he but smiled again.\n\n\u201cThe sun is burning out,\u201d said he, \u201cand I can stand talking here no\nlonger. Farewell, brave soldiers, and safe home to you! Farewell, Arab,\nand safe home to those that you are looking after!\u201d\n\nHe stalked away, and as he passed me, said in a low voice, \u201cGlory to\nNaphtali!\u201d\n\nAfter exchanging good wishes with the old men, I followed him; he led the\nway toward the wood at a pace which kept me at a distance. When I reached\nthe shade, he stopped, and prostrated himself before me.\n\n\u201cWill my lord,\u201d said he, \u201cforgive the presumption of his servant? This\nday, when I first met you, your disguise deceived me. I bear intelligence\nfrom your friends.\u201d\n\nI caught the fragment of papyrus from him, and read:\n\n\u201cAll\u2019s well. We have hitherto met with nothing to oppose us. To-morrow\nnight we shall be on the ground. If no addition be made to the force\nwithin, the surprise will be complete. Our cause itself is victory.\nHealth to all we love!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour mission is now done,\u201d said I; \u201cgo on to Naphtali, and you shall be\nrewarded as your activity has deserved.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: An Enemy of Florus]\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied he, with the easy air of a licensed humorist; \u201cI have but\ntwo things to think of in this world\u2014my time and my money; of one of\nthem, I have infinitely more than I well know how to spend, and of the\nother infinitely less. I expected to have killed a few days in going up\nto Naphtali. But that hope has been cut off by my finding you half-way. I\nwill now try Florus, and get rid of a day or two with that most worthy of\nmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I forbid,\u201d interrupted I.\n\n\u201cNot if you will trust one whom your noble son has trusted. I am not\naltogether without some dislike to the Romans myself, nor something\nbetween contempt and hatred for Gessius Florus.\u201d His countenance darkened\nat the name. \u201cI tell you,\u201d pronounced he bitterly, \u201cthat fellow\u2019s\npampered carcass this day contains as black a mass of villainy as stains\nthe earth. I have an old account to settle with him.\u201d\n\nHis voice quivered. \u201cI was once no rambler, no outcast of the land. I\nlived on the side of Hermon, lovely Hermon! I was affianced to a maiden\nof my kindred, as sweet a flower as ever blushed with love and joy.\nOur bridal day was fixed. I went to C\u00e6sarea-Philippi to purchase some\nmarriage presents. When I returned, I found nothing but women weeping,\nand men furious with impotent rage. My bride was gone. A Roman troop\nhad surrounded her father\u2019s house in the night and torn her away. Wild,\ndistracted, nay, I believe raving mad, I searched the land. I kept life\nin me only that I might recover or revenge her. I abandoned property,\nfriends, all! At length I made the discovery.\u201d\n\nTo hide his perturbation, he turned away. \u201cPowers of justice and\nvengeance!\u201d he murmured in a shuddering tone, \u201care there no thunders for\nsuch things? She had been seen by that hoary profligate. She was carried\noff by him. She spurned his insults. He ordered her to be chained, to be\nstarved, to be lashed!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Slowness of Revenge]\n\nTears sprang to his eyes. \u201cShe still spurned him. She implored to die.\nShe called upon my name in her misery. Wretch that I was, what could I, a\nworm, do under the heel of the tyrant? But I saw her at last; I made my\nway into the dungeon. There she sat, pale as the stone to which she was\nchained; a silent, sightless, bloodless, mindless skeleton. I called to\nher; she knew nothing. I pressed my lips to hers; she never felt them. I\nbathed her cold hands in my tears\u2014I fell at her feet\u2014I prayed to her but\nto pronounce one word, to give some sign of remembrance, to look on me.\nShe sat like a statue; her reason was gone, gone forever!\u201d\n\nHe flung himself upon the ground, and writhed and groaned before me. To\nturn him from a subject of such sorrow, I asked what he meant to do by\nhis intercourse with Florus.\n\n\u201cTo do?\u2014not to stab him in his bed; not to poison him in his banquet; not\nto smite him with that speedy death which would be mercy\u2014no, but to force\nhim into ruin step by step; to gather shame, remorse, and anguish round\nhim, cloud on cloud; to mix evil in his cup with such exquisite slowness\nthat he shall taste every drop; to strike him only so far that he may\nfeel the pang without being stunned; to mingle so much of hope in his\nundoing that he may never enjoy the vigor of despair; to sink him into\nhis own Tartarus inch by inch till every fiber has its particular agony.\u201d\n\nHe yelled, suddenly rose from the ground, and rushed forward and threaded\nthe thickets with a swiftness that made my pursuit in vain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\n_In the Lions\u2019 Lair_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Beggar\u2019s Signals]\n\nThe violence of the beggar\u2019s anguish, and the strong probabilities of his\nstory, engrossed me so much that I at first regretted the extraordinary\nflight which put it out of my power to offer him any assistance. I\nreturned with a feeling of disappointment to the spot where I had left\nmy horse, and was riding toward the higher country, to avoid the enemy\u2019s\nstraggling parties, when I heard a loud outcry. On a crag so distant that\nI thought human speed could scarcely have reached it in the time, I saw\nthis strange being making all kinds of signals, sometimes pointing to me,\nthen to some object below him, and uttering a cry which might easily be\nmistaken for the howl of a wild beast.\n\n[Sidenote: A Secluded Spot]\n\nI reined up; it was impossible for me to ascertain whether he were\nwarning me of danger or apprising others of my approach. Great stakes\nmake man suspicious, and the prince of Naphtali, speeding to the\ncapture of the principal armory of the legions, might be an object well\nworth a little treachery. I rapidly forgot the beggar\u2019s sorrows in the\nconsideration of his habits; decided that his harangue was a piece of\nprofessional dexterity, probably played off every week of his life, and\nthat if I would not be in Roman hands before night, I must ride in the\nprecisely opposite direction to that which his signals so laboriously\nrecommended. Nothing grows with more vigor than the doubt of human\nhonesty. I satisfied myself in a few moments that I was a dupe, and\ndashed through thicket, over rock, forded torrent, and from the top\nof an acclivity, at which even my high-mettled steed had looked with\nrepugnance, saw with the triumph of him who deceives the deceiver, the\nincreased violence of the impostor\u2019s attitudes. He leaped from crag to\ncrag with the activity of a goat, and when he could do nothing else,\ngave the last evidence of Oriental vexation by tearing his robes. I waved\nmy hand to him in contemptuous farewell, and dismounting, for the side\nof the hill was almost precipitous, led my panting Arab through beds of\nwild myrtle, and every lovely and sweet-smelling bloom, to the edge of a\nvalley that seemed made to shut out every disturbance of man.\n\nA circle of low hills, covered to the crown with foliage, surrounded a\ndeep space of velvet turf, kept green as the emerald by the moisture of\na pellucid lake in its center, tinged with every color of heaven. The\nbeauty of this sylvan spot was enhanced by the luxuriant profusion of\nalmond, orange, and other trees that in every stage of production, from\nthe bud to the fruit, covered the little knolls below and formed a broad\nbelt round the lake.\n\nParched as I was by the intolerable heat, this secluded haunt of the very\nspirit of freshness looked doubly lovely. My eyes, half-blinded by the\nglare of the sands, and even my mind, exhausted by the perplexities of\nthe day, found delicious relaxation in the verdure and dewy breath of the\nsilent valley. My barb, with the quick sense of animals accustomed to the\ntravel of the wilderness, showed her delight by playful boundings, the\nprouder arching of her neck, and the brighter glancing of her eye.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d thought I, as I led her slowly toward the steep descent, \u201cwould\nbe the very spot for the innocence that had not tried the world, or the\nphilosophy that had tried it and found all vanity. Who could dream that\nwithin the borders of this distracted land, in the very hearing, almost\nwithin the very sight, of the last miseries that man can inflict on man,\nthere was a retreat which the foot of man perhaps never yet defiled, and\nin which the calamities that afflict society might be as little felt as\nif it were among the stars!\u201d\n\nA violent plunge of the barb put an end to my speculation. She exhibited\nthe wildest signs of terror, snorted and strove to break from me; then\nfixing her glance keenly on the thickets below, shook in every limb.\nYet the scene was tranquillity itself; the chameleon lay basking in the\nsun, and the only sound was that of the wild doves, murmuring under the\nbroad leaves of the palm-trees. But my mare still resisted every effort\nto lead her downward; her ears were fluttering convulsively; her eyes\nwere starting from their sockets. I grew peevish at the animal\u2019s unusual\nobstinacy, and was about to let her suffer thirst for the day, when I was\nstartled by a tremendous roar.\n\nA lion stood on the summit which I had but just quitted. He was not a\ndozen yards above my head, and his first spring must have carried me to\nthe bottom of the precipice. The barb burst away at once. I drew the only\nweapon I had\u2014a dagger\u2014and hopeless as escape was, grasping the tangled\nweeds to sustain my footing, awaited the plunge. But the lordly savage\nprobably disdained so ignoble a prey, and remained on the summit, lashing\nhis sides with his tail and tearing up the ground. He at length stopped\nsuddenly, listened, as to some approaching foot, and then with a hideous\nyell, sprang over me, and was in the thicket below at a single bound.\n\n[Sidenote: The Forest Kings]\n\nThe whole jungle was instantly alive; the shade which I had fixed on for\nthe seat of unearthly tranquillity had been an old haunt of lions, and\nthe mighty herd were now roused from their noonday slumbers. Nothing\ncould be grander or more terrible than this disturbed majesty of the\nforest kings. In every variety of savage passion, from terror to fury,\nthey plunged, tore, and yelled; dashed through the lake, burst through\nthe thicket, rushed up the hills, or stood baying and roaring in\ndefiance, as if against a coming invader; their numbers were immense, for\nthe rareness of shade and water had gathered them from every quarter of\nthe desert.\n\n[Sidenote: A Savage Conflict]\n\nWhile I stood clinging to my perilous hold, and fearful of attracting\ntheir gaze by the slightest movement, the source of the commotion\nappeared, in the shape of a Roman soldier issuing, spear in hand, through\na ravine at the farther side of the valley. He was palpably unconscious\nof the formidable place into which he was entering, and the gallant\nclamor of voices through the hills showed that he was followed by others\nas bold and as unconscious of their danger as himself. But his career\nwas soon closed; his horse\u2019s feet had scarcely touched the turf, when\na lion was fixed with fang and claw on the creature\u2019s loins. The rider\nuttered a cry of horror, and for an instant sat helplessly gazing at the\nopen jaws behind him. I saw the lion gathering up his flanks for a second\nbound, but the soldier, a figure of gigantic strength, grasping the\nnostrils of the monster with one hand, and with the other shortening his\nspear, drove the steel at one resistless thrust into the lion\u2019s forehead.\nHorse, lion, and rider fell, and continued struggling together.\n\nIn the next moment a mass of cavalry came thundering down the ravine.\nThey had broken off from their march, through the accident of rousing a\nstraggling lion, and followed him in the giddy ardor of the chase. But\nthe sight now before them was enough to appal the boldest intrepidity.\nThe valley was filled with the vast herd; retreat was impossible, for\nthe troopers came still pouring in by the only pass, and from the sudden\ndescent of the glen, horse and man were rolled head foremost among the\nlions; neither man nor monster could retreat.\n\nThe conflict was horrible; the heavy spears of the legionaries plunged\nthrough bone and brain; the lions, made more furious by wounds, sprang\nupon the powerful horses and tore them to the ground, or flew at the\ntroopers\u2019 throats, and crushed and dragged away cuirass and buckler.\nThe valley was a struggling heap of human and savage battle; man, lion,\nand charger writhing and rolling in agonies until their forms were\nundistinguishable. The groans and cries of the legionaries, the screams\nof the mangled horses, and the roars and howlings of the lions, bleeding\nwith sword and spear, tearing the dead, darting up the sides of the hills\nin terror, and rushing down again with the fresh thirst of gore, baffled\nall conception of fury and horror. But man was the conqueror at last; the\nsavages, scared by the spear, and thinned in their numbers, made a rush\nin one body toward the ravine, overthrew everything in their way, and\nburst from the valley, awaking the desert for many a league with their\nroar.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cThe lions, made more furious by wounds, sprang upon the\npowerful horses.\u201d\n\n [_see page 208._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\nThe troopers, bitterly repenting their rash exploit, gathered up the\nremnants of their dead on litters of boughs, and leaving many a gallant\nsteed to feast the vultures, slowly retired from the place of carnage.\n\nThe spot to which I clung made ascent or descent equally difficult, and\nduring their extraordinary contest I continued embedded in the foliage,\nand glad to escape the eye of man and brute alike. But the troop were now\ngone; beneath me lay nothing but a scene of blood, and I began to wind my\nway to the summit. A menace from below stopped me. A solitary horseman\nhad galloped back to give a last look to this valley of death; he saw me\nclimbing the hill, saw that I was not a Roman, and in the irritation of\nthe hour, made no scruple of sacrificing a native to the manes of his\ncomrades. The spear followed his words and plowed the ground at my side.\nHis outcry brought back a dozen of his squadron; I found myself about to\nbe assailed by a general discharge. Escape on foot was impossible, and I\nhad no resource but to be speared, or to descend and give myself up to\nthe soldiery.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Captured]\n\nIt was to warn me of this hazard that the signals of my strange companion\nwere made. He saw the advance of the Roman column along the plain. My\nsuspicions of his honesty drove me directly into their road, and the\nchance of turning down the valley scarcely retarded the capture. On\nmy first emerging from the hills, I must have been taken. However, my\ncaptors were in unusual ill-temper. As an Arab, too poor to be worth\nplundering or being made prisoner, I should have met only a sneer or\nan execration and been turned loose; but the late disaster made the\nturban and haik odious, and I was treated with the wrath due to a fellow\nconspirator of the lions. To my request that I should be suffered to\ndepart in peace on my business, the most prompt denial was given; the\nstory that I told to account for my travel in the track of the column\nwas treated with the simplest scorn; I was pronounced a spy, and fairly\ntold that my head was my own only till I gave the procurator whatever\ninformation it contained.\n\nYet I found one friend, in this evil state of my expedition. My barb,\nwhich I had given up for lost in the desert, or torn by the wild beasts,\nappeared on the heights overhanging our march, and by snuffing the\nwind, and bounding backward and forward through the thickets, attracted\ngeneral attention. I claimed her, and the idea that the way-sore and\nrough-clothed prisoner could be the master of so noble an animal, raised\nscorn to its most peremptory pitch. In turn I demanded permission to\nprove my right, and called the barb. The creature heard the voice with\nthe most obvious delight, bounded toward me, rubbed her head against me,\nand by every movement of dumb joy showed that she had found her master.\n\n[Sidenote: A Jovial Captain]\n\nStill my requests for dismissal were idle; I talked to the winds; the\nrear squadrons of the column were in sight; there was no time to be\nlost. I was suffered to mount the barb, but her bridle was thrown across\nthe neck of one of the troopers\u2019 horses, and I was marched along to\ndeath, or a tedious captivity. My blood boiled when I thought of what\nwas to be done before the dawn. How miserable a proof had I given of the\nvigilance and vigor that were to claim the command of armies! I writhed\nin every nerve. My agitation at length caught the eye of a corpulent old\ncaptain, whose good-humored visage was colored by the deepest infusion\nof the grape. His strong Thracian charger was a movable magazine of\nthe choicest Falernian; out of every crevice of his pack-saddle and\naccouterments peeped the head of a flask; and to judge by his frequent\nrecourse to his stores, no man was less inclined to carry his baggage for\nnothing. Popularity, too, attended upon the captain, and a group of young\npatricians attached to the procurator\u2019s court were content to abate of\ntheir rank, and ride along with the old soldier, in consideration of his\nbetter knowledge of the grand military science, providing for the road.\n\nIn the midst of some camp story, which the majority received with peals\nof applause, the captain glanced upon me, and asking \u201cwhether I was not\nill,\u201d held out his flask. I took it, and never did I taste draught so\ndelicious. Thirst and hunger are the true secrets of luxury. I absolutely\nfelt new life rushing into me with the wine.\n\n[Sidenote: The Haughtiness of a Tribune]\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said the old man, \u201csee how the fellow\u2019s eye sparkles. Falernian\nis the doctor, after all. I have had no other those forty years. For\nhard knocks, hard watches, and hard weather, there is nothing like the\ntrue juice of the vine. Try it again, Arab.\u201d\n\nI declined the offer in civil terms.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said he, \u201cit has made the man eloquent. By Hercules, it would\nmake his mare speak. And now that I look at her, she is as prettily made\na creature as I have seen in Syria; her nose would fit in a drinking-cup.\nWhat is her price, at a word?\u201d\n\nI answered that \u201cshe was not to be sold.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, say no more about it,\u201d replied the jovial old man; \u201cI know\nyou Arabs make as much of a mare as of a child, and I never meddle in\nfamily affairs.\u201d\n\nA haughty-looking tribune, covered with embroidery and the other\ncoxcombry of the court soldier, spurred his charger between us and\nuttered with a sneer:\n\n\u201cWhat, captain, by Venus and all the Graces! giving this beggar a lecture\nin philosophy or a lesson in politeness? If you will not have the mare, I\nwill. Dismount, slave!\u201d\n\nThe officers gathered to the front, to see the progress of the affair. I\nsat silent.\n\n\u201cSlave! do you hear? Dismount! You will lose nothing, for you will steal\nanother in the first field you come to.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know but one race of robbers in Judea,\u201d replied I.\n\nThe old captain reined up beside me, and said in a whisper: \u201cFriend, let\nhim have the mare. He will pay you handsomely, and besides, he is the\nnephew of the procurator. It will not be wise in you to put him in a\npassion.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat fellow never shall have her, tho he were to coin these sands into\ngold,\u201d replied I.\n\n\u201cDo you mean to call us robbers?\u201d said the tribune, with a lowering eye.\n\n\u201cDo you mean to stop me on the high-road and take my property from me,\nyet expect that I shall call you anything else?\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cSententious rogues, those Arabs! Every soul of them has a point, or a\nproverb, on his tongue,\u201d murmured the captain to the group of young men,\nwho were evidently amused at seeing their unpopular companion entangled\nwith me.\n\n[Sidenote: The Tribune\u2019s Rage]\n\n\u201cSlave!\u201d said the tribune fiercely, \u201cwe must have no more of this. You\nhave been found lurking about the camp. Will you be hanged for a spy?\u201d\n\n\u201cA spy!\u201d said I\u2014and the insult probably colored my cheek; \u201ca spy has no\nbusiness among the Romans.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d observed the captain, \u201cthe Arab seems to think that our proceedings\nare in general pretty palpable: slay, strip, and burn.\u201d He turned to the\npatrician tribune. \u201cThe fellow is not worth our trouble. Shall I let him\ngo about his business?\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said the tribune angrily, \u201cit is your business to command your\ntroop and be silent.\u201d\n\nThe old man bit his lip, and fell back to the line of his men. My taunter\nreined up beside me again.\n\n\u201cDo you know, robber, that I can order you to be speared on the spot for\nyour lies?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, for I have told you nothing but the truth of both of us. Such an\norder, too, would only prove that men will often bid others do what they\ndare not touch with a finger of their own.\u201d\n\nThe officers, offended at the treatment of their old favorite, burst into\na laugh. The coxcomb grew doubly indignant.\n\n\u201cStrip the hound!\u201d exclaimed he to the soldiers; \u201cit is money that makes\nhim insolent.\u201d\n\n\u201cNature has done it, at least for one of us, without the expense of a\nmite,\u201d replied I calmly.\n\n\u201cOff with his turban! Those fellows carry coin in every fold of it.\u201d\n\nThe officers looked at each other in surprise; the captain hardly\nsuppressed a contemptuous execration between his lips. The very troopers\nhesitated.\n\n\u201cSoldiers!\u201d said I, in the same unaltered tone, \u201cI have no gold in my\nturban. An Arab is seldom one of those\u2014the outside of whose head is\nbetter worth than the inside.\u201d\n\nThe perfumed and curled locks of the tribune, surmounted by a helmet,\nsculptured and plumed in the most extravagant style, caught every eye;\nand the shaft, slight as it was, went home.\n\n[Sidenote: The Tribune\u2019s Defeat]\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll pluck the robber off his horse by the beard!\u201d exclaimed the\ntribune, spurring his horse upon me and advancing his hand.\n\nI threw open my robe, grasped my dagger, and sternly pronounced: \u201cThere\nis an oath in our line that the man who touches the beard of an Arab\ndies.\u201d\n\nHe was not prepared for the action, hesitated, and finally wheeled from\nme. The old captain burst out into an involuntary huzza.\n\n\u201cTake the beggar to the camp,\u201d said the tribune, as he rode away, \u201cI hate\nall scoundrels\u201d; and he glanced round the spectators.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d exclaimed I, after him, as a parting blow, \u201cyou have at least one\nvirtue, for you can never be charged with self-love.\u201d\n\nThis woman-war made me popular on the spot. The tribune had no sooner\nturned his horse\u2019s head than the officers clustered together in laughter.\nEven the iron visages of the troopers relaxed into grim smiles. The old\njocular captain was the only one still grave.\n\n[Sidenote: An Unpleasant Interview]\n\n\u201cThere rides not this day under the canopy of heaven,\u201d murmured he, \u201ca\ngreater puppy than Caius Sempronius Catulus, tribune of the thirteenth\nlegion by his mother\u2019s morals and the Emperor\u2019s taste. Why did not the\ncoxcomb stay at home, and show off his trappings among the supper-eaters\nof the Palatine? He might have powdered his ringlets with gold-dust,\nwashed his hands in rose-water, and perfumed his handkerchief with myrrh\nas well there as here, for he does nothing else\u2014except,\u201d and he clenched\nthe heavy hilt of his falchion, \u201cinsult men who have seen more battles\nthan he has seen years, who knew better service than bowing in courts,\nand the least drop of whose blood is worth all that will ever run in his\nveins. But I have not done with him yet. As for you, friend,\u201d said he, \u201cI\nam sorry to stop you on your way; but as this affair will be magnified by\nthat fool\u2019s tongue, you must be brought to the procurator. However, the\ncamp is only a few miles off; you will be asked a few questions, and then\nleft to follow your will.\u201d\n\nHe little dreamed how I recoiled from that interview.\n\nTo shorten the time of my delay, the good-natured old man ordered\nthe squadron to mend their pace, and in half an hour we saw the noon\nencampment of my sworn enemy, lifting its white tops and scarlet flags\namong the umbrage of a forest, deep in the valley at our feet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\n_The Escape of Salathiel, the Magician_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Again Faces Florus]\n\nThe squadron drew up at the entrance of the procurator\u2019s tent, and with\na crowd of alarmed peasants captured in the course of the day, I was\ndelivered over to be questioned by this man of terror. The few minutes\nwhich passed before I was called to take my turn were singularly painful.\nThis was not fear, for the instant sentence of the ax would have been\nalmost a relief from the hopeless and fretful thwartings sown so thickly\nin my path. But to have embarked in a noble enterprise, and to perish\nwithout use; to have arrived almost within sight of the point of my\ndesires, and then, without striking a blow, to be given up to shame,\nstung me like a serpent.\n\nMy heart sprang to my lips when I heard myself called into the presence\nof Florus. He was lying upon a couch, with his never-failing cup before\nhim, and turning over some papers with a shaking hand. Care or conscience\nhad made ravages even in him since I saw him last. He was still the same\nfigure of excess, but his cheek was hollow; the few locks on his head had\ngrown a more snowy white, and the little pampered hand was as thin and\nyellow as the claw of the vulture that he so much resembled in his soul.\n\nWith his head scarcely lifted from the table, and with eyes that seemed\nhalf shut, he asked whence I had come and whither I was going. My voice,\nnotwithstanding my attempt to disguise it, struck his acute ear. His\nnative keenness was awake at once. He darted a fiery glance at me, and,\nstriking his hand on the table, exclaimed: \u201cBy Hercules, it is the Jew!\u201d\nMy altered costume again perplexed him.\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said he in soliloquy, \u201cthat fellow went to Nero, and must have\nbeen executed. Ho! send in the tribune who took him.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel the Plunderer]\n\nCatulus entered, and his account of me was, luckily, contemptuous in the\nextreme. I was \u201ca notorious robber, who had stolen a handsome horse,\nperfectly worthy of the stud of the procurator.\u201d\n\nI panted with the hope of escape, and was gradually moving to the door.\n\n\u201cStand, slave!\u201d cried Florus, \u201cI have my doubts of you still, and as the\npublic safety admits of no mistake I have no alternative. Tribune, order\nin the lictors. He must be scourged into confession.\u201d\n\nThe lictors were summoned, and I was to be torn by Roman torturers.\n\nA tumult now arose outside, and a man rushed in with the lictors,\nexclaiming: \u201cJustice, most mighty Florus! By the majesty of Rome, and\nthe magnanimity of the most illustrious of governors, I call for justice\nagainst my plunderer, my undoer, the robber of the son of El Hakim, of\nhis most precious treasure.\u201d\n\nFlorus recognized the clamorer as an old acquaintance, and desired him to\nstate his complaint, and with as much brevity as possible.\n\n\u201cLast night,\u201d said the man, \u201cI was the happy possessor of a mare, fleet\nas the ostrich and shapely as the face of beauty. I had intended her as\na present for the most illustrious of procurators, the great Florus,\nwhom the gods long preserve! In the hour of my rest, the spoiler came,\nnoiseless as the fall of the turtle\u2019s feather, cruel as the viper\u2019s\ntooth. When I arose the mare was gone. I was in distraction. I tore my\nbeard; I beat my head upon the ground; I cursed the robber wherever he\nwent, to the sun-rising or the sun-setting, to the mountains or the\nvalleys. But fortune sits on the banner of my lord the procurator, and I\ncame for hope of his conquering feet. In passing through the camp, what\ndid I see but my treasure, the delight of my eyes, the drier up of my\ntears! I have come to claim justice and the restoration of my mare, that\nI may have the happiness to present her to the most renowned of mankind.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Mare\u2019s Wildness]\n\nI had been occupied with the thought whether I should burst through\nthe lictors or rush on the procurator. But the length and loudness of\nthis outcry engrossed every one. The orator was my friend the beggar! He\npointed fiercely to me. If looks could kill, he would not have survived\nthe look that I gave the traitor in return.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said Florus, \u201cis your plunderer. Sabat, have you ever seen him\nbefore?\u201d\n\nThe beggar strode insolently toward me.\n\n\u201cSeen him before! aye, a hundred times. What! Ben Ammon, the most\nnotorious thief from the Nile to the Jordan! My lord, every child knows\nhim. Ha, by the gods of my fathers, by my mother\u2019s bosom, by shaft and by\nshield, he has stolen more horses within the last twenty years than would\nremount all the cavalry from Beersheba to Damascus! It was but last night\nthat, as I was leading my mare, the gem of my eyes, my pearl\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI now began to perceive the value of my eloquent friend\u2019s interposition.\n\n\u201cAn Arab horse-thief! That alters the case,\u201d said the procurator. \u201cHo!\ndid you not say that the mare was intended for me? Lictor, go and bring\nthis wonder to the door.\u201d\n\nThe voluble son of El Hakim followed the lictor, and returned, crying\nout more furiously than before against me. His \u201cpearl, the delight of\nhis eyes, was spoiled\u2014was utterly unmanagable. I had put some of my\nvillainous enchantments upon her, for which I was notorious.\u201d\n\nThe procurator\u2019s curiosity was excited; he rose and went to take a view\nof the enchanted animal. I followed, and certainly nothing could be\nmore singular than the restiveness which the son of El Hakim contrived\nto make her exhibit. She plunged, she bounded, bit, reared, and flung\nout her heels in all directions. Every attempt to lead or mount her was\nfoiled in the most complete yet most ludicrous manner. The young cavalry\nofficers came from all sides, and could not be restrained from boisterous\nlaughter, even by the presence of the procurator. Florus himself at\nlast became among the loudest. Even I, accustomed as I was to daring\nhorsemanship, was surprised at the eccentric agility of this unlucky\nrider. He was alternately on the animal\u2019s back and under her feet; he\nsprang upon her from behind, he sprang over her head, he stood upon the\nsaddle, but all in vain; he had scarcely touched her when she threw him\nup in the air again, amid the perpetual roar of the soldiery.\n\nAt length, with a look of dire disappointment, he gave up the task, and,\nas scarcely able to drag his limbs along, prostrated himself before\nFlorus, praying that he would order the Arab thief to unsay the spells\nthat had turned \u201cthe gentlest mare in the world into a wild beast.\u201d The\nconsent was given with a haughty nod, and I advanced to play my part\nin a performance, the object of which I had no conception. The orator\ndelivered the barb to me with a look so expressive of cunning, sport, and\ntriumph, that perplexed as I was, I could not avoid a smile.\n\nMy experiment was rapidly made. The mare knew me, and was tractable at\nonce. This only confirmed the charge of my necromancy. But the son of El\nHakim professed himself altogether dissatisfied with so expeditious a\nprocess, and demanded that I should go through the regular steps of the\nart. In the midst of the fiercest reprobation of my unhallowed dealings,\na whisper from him put me in possession of his mind.\n\n[Sidenote: The Accuser\u2019s Warning]\n\nI now went through the process used by the traveling jugglers, and if the\ndeepest attention of an audience could reward my talents, mine received\nunexampled reward. My gazings on the sky, whisperings in the barb\u2019s\near, grotesque figures traced on the sand, wild gestures and mysterious\njargon, thoroughly absorbed the intellects of the honest legionaries. If\nI had been content with fame, I might have spread my reputation through\nthe Roman camps as a conjurer of the first magnitude. I was, however,\nbeginning to be weary of my exhibition, and longed for the signal, when\nSabat approached, and loudly testifying that I had clearly performed my\ntask, threw the bridle over the animal\u2019s head and whispered, \u201cNow!\u201d\n\nMy heart panted; my hand was on the mane; I glanced round to see that all\nwas safe, before I gave the spring, when Florus screamed out:\n\n[Sidenote: A Lesson in Horse-Stealing]\n\n\u201cThe Jew! by Tartarus, it is the Jew himself. Drag down the circumcised\ndog.\u201d\n\nWith cavalry on every side of me, forcible escape was out of the question.\n\n\u201cUndone, undone!\u201d were the words of my wild friend, as he passed me. And\nwhen I saw him once more in the most earnest conversation with Florus,\nI concluded that the discovery was complete. I was in utter despair. I\nstood sullenly waiting the worst, and gave an internal curse to the more\nthan malevolence of fortune.\n\nThe conversation continued so long that the impatience of those around me\nbegan to break out.\n\n\u201cOn what possible subject can the procurator suffer that mad fellow to\nhave so long an audience?\u201d said a young patrician.\n\n\u201cOn every possible subject, I should conceive, from the length of the\nconference,\u201d was the reply.\n\n\u201cFlorus knows his man,\u201d said a third; \u201cthat mad fellow is a regular spy,\nand receives more of the Emperor\u2019s coin in a month than we do in a year.\u201d\n\nThe tribune now broke into the circle, and with a look of supreme scorn,\naffectedly exclaimed: \u201cCome, knight of the desert, sovereign of the\nsands, let us have a specimen of your calling. Stand back, officers; this\negg of Ishmael is to quit plunder so soon that he would probably like to\ndie as he lived\u2014in the exercise of his trade. Here, slave, show us the\nmost approved method of getting possession of another man\u2019s horse.\u201d\n\nI stood in indignant silence. The tribune threatened. A thought struck\nme; I bowed to the command, let the barb loose, and proceeded according\nto the theory of horse-stealing. I approached noiselessly, gesticulated,\nmade mystic movements, and gibbered witchcraft as before. The animal,\nwith natural docility, suffered my experiments. I continued urging her\ntoward the thinner side of the circle.\n\n\u201cNow, noble Romans,\u201d said I, \u201clook carefully to the next spell, for it is\nthe triumph of the art.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Tribune Outdone]\n\nCuriosity was in every countenance. I made a genuflexion to the four\npoints of the compass, devoted a gesture of peculiar solemnity to the\nprocurator\u2019s tent, and while all eyes were drawn in that direction,\nsprang on the barb\u2019s back and was gone like an arrow.\n\nI heard a clamor of surprise, mingled with outrageous laughter, and\nlooking round, saw the whole crowd of the loose riders of the encampment\nin full pursuit up the hill. Florus was at his tent door, pointing\ntoward me with furious gestures. The trumpets were calling, the cavalry\nmounting; I had roused the whole activity of the little army.\n\nThe slope of the valley was long and steep, and the heavy horsemanship\nof the legionaries, who were perhaps not very anxious for my capture,\nsoon threw them out. A little knot of the more zealous alone kept up a\npursuit, from which I had no fears. An abrupt rock in the middle of the\nascent at length hid them from me. To gain a last view of the camp, I\ndoubled round the rock and saw, a few yards below me, the tribune, with\nhis horse completely blown. I owed him a debt, which I had determined\nto discharge at the earliest possible time, partly on my own account,\nand partly on that of the old captain. I darted upon him. He was all\nastonishment; a single buffet from my naked hand knocked the helpless\ntaunter off his charger.\n\n\u201cTribune,\u201d cried I, as he lay upon the ground, \u201cyou have had one specimen\nof my art to-day, now you shall have another. Learn in future to respect\nan Arab.\u201d\n\nI caught his horse\u2019s bridle, gave the animal a lash, and we bounded away\ntogether. The scene was visible to the whole camp; the troopers, who had\nreined up on the declivity, gave a roar of merriment, and I heard the old\ncorpulent captain\u2019s laugh above it all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\n_The Power of a Beggar_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Contents of the Saddle-Bag]\n\nI had escaped, but the delay was ruinous. The sun sank when I reached the\nbrow of the mountain, and Masada lay many a weary mile forward. I cast\noff the tribune\u2019s horse, thus giving his insolent master evidence that\nI did not understand the main point of my trade, and stood pondering to\nwhat point of the mighty ridge that rose blue along the horizon I should\nturn, when, in the plunge of the horse as he felt himself at liberty, his\nsaddle came to the ground. The possibility of its containing reports of\nthe state of the enemy led me to examine its pockets; they were stuffed\nwith letters worthy of the highest circles of Italian high life; the\nill-spelled registers of an existence at a loss how to lose its time; of\nlibertinism sick of indulgence, and of pecuniary embarrassment driven to\nthe most hopeless and whimsical resources.\n\nA glance at a few of those epistles was enough, and I scattered into the\nair the reputations of half the high-born maids and matrons of Rome; but\nas I was turning away with an instinctive exclamation of scorn at this\ncompendium of patrician life, my eye was caught by a letter addressed\nto the governor of Masada. In opening it, I committed no violation of\ndiplomacy, for it held no secret other than an angry remission of his\nallegiance by some wearied fair one, who announced her intended marriage\nwith the tribune.\n\n[Sidenote: The Distant Sound of Strife]\n\nMy revenge was thus to go further than my intent, for I deprived him\nof the personal triumph of delivering this calamitous despatch to his\nrival. Yet, on second thought, conceiving that some cipher might lurk\nunder its absurdity, I secured the paper, and giving the rein, left the\nwhole secret correspondence of debt, libel, and love to the delight\nof mankind. I flew along; my indefatigable barb, as if she felt her\nmaster\u2019s anxieties, put forth double speed. But I had yet a fearful\ndistance to traverse. The night came, but I had no time to think of rest\nor shelter. I pushed on. The wind rose and wrapt me in whirls of sand. I\nheard the roar of waters. The ground became fractured, and full of the\nloose fragments that fall from rocky hills. I found that I was at the\nfoot of the ridge and had lost my way. In this embarrassment I trusted\nto the sagacity of my steed. But thirst led her directly to one of the\nmountain torrents, and the phosphoric gleam of the waters alone saved\nus both from a plunge over a precipice, deep enough to extinguish every\nappetite and ambition in the round of this bustling world.\n\nTo find a passage or an escape, I alighted. The torrent bellowed before\nme. A wall of rock rose on the opposite side. After long climbings and\ndescents, I found that I had descended too deep to return. Oh, how I\nlonged for the trace of man, for the feeblest light that ever twinkled\nfrom the cottage window! I felt the plague of helplessness. To attempt\nthe torrent was impossible. To linger where I stood till dawn was misery.\n\nWhat would be going on meanwhile? Perhaps, at the very time while I was\nstanding in wretched doubt, imprisoned among those pestilent cliffs, the\ndeed was doing. Constantius was, with ineffectual gallantry, assaulting\nthe fortress; my brave kinsmen were sacrificing their lives under the\nRoman spears, and I was not there!\n\nA fitful sound came mingling with the roar of the cataract; it swelled,\nand vanished like the rushings of the gale. A trumpet sounded, but so\nfeebly that nothing but the keenness of an ear straining to catch the\nslightest sound could have distinguished it. I heard remote shouts; they\ndeepened; the echo of trumpets followed.\n\n\u201cThe assault has begun!\u201d I thought. \u201cThe work of glory and of death was\ndoing. Every instant cost a life. The hailstones that bruised me were not\nthicker than the arrows that were then smiting down my people. Yet there\nwas I, like a wolf in the pitfall!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: In the Torrent]\n\nEven where the combat was being fought, baffled my conception. It might\nbe in the clouds or underground, on the opposite side of the black ridge\nbefore me, or many a league beyond the reach of my exhausted limbs and\ndrooping steed; all was darkness to the eye and to the mind.\n\nA light flashed down a ravine leading into the heart of the mountains;\nanother and another blazed. Masada stood upon the mountain\u2019s brow.\n\nI instantly plunged into the torrent\u2014was beaten down by the billows\u2014was\nswept along through narrow channels of rock, until, half-suffocated, I\nwas hurled up against the opposite cliff. Wet and weary, I less climbed\nthan tore my way upward. But the torrent had borne me far below the\nravine. Before me was a gigantic rampart of rock. But the time was\nflying. I dragged myself up to the face of the precipice by the chance\nbrushwood. I swung from point to point by a few projecting branches that\nbroke away almost in my grasp, until, with my hands excoriated, my limbs\nstiff and bleeding, and my head reeling, I reached the pinnacle.\n\nWas I under the dominion of a spell? Was the power of some fiend raised\nto mock me? All was darkness as far as the eye could pierce; the heaviest\nveil of midnight hung upon the earth. There was utter silence. Not the\nslightest sound reached the ear.\n\nFor a while, the thought of some strange illusion was paramount; then\ncame the frightful idea that the illusion was in myself; that in the\neffort to gain the ascent, I had strained eye and ear until I could\nneither hear nor see; that I was still within sight and sound of battle,\nbut insensible to the impressions of the external world forever.\nImmortality under this exclusion! A deathlessness of the deaf and blind!\nThe thought struck me with a force inconceivable by all minds but one\nsentenced like mine.\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Tells of the Attack]\n\nIn my despair I cried aloud. A flood of joy rushed into my heart when I\nheard my voice answered, tho it was but by the neigh of my barb below,\nwhich probably felt itself as ill-placed as its master. I now used my ear\nas the guide, and cautiously descending the farther side of the ridge\nwas soon on comparatively level ground, the remnant of a forest. My foot\nstruck against a human body; I spoke; the answer was a groan, and an\nentreaty that I should bear a small packet, which was put into my hands,\n\u201cto the prince of Naphtali!\u201d In alarm and astonishment, I raised the\nsufferer, gave him some water from my flask, and after many an effort, in\nwhich I thought that life would depart every moment, he told me that \u201che\nwas the unfortunate leader of the assault of Masada.\u201d Constantius lay in\nmy arms!\n\n\u201cWhere I am,\u201d said he, as he slowly recovered his senses, \u201chow I came\nhere, or anything but that we are undone, I can not conceive. My last\nrecollection was of fixing a ladder to the inner rampart. We had made our\nway good so far without loss. The garrison was weakened by detachments\nsent out to plunder. I attacked at midnight. To surprise a Roman fortress\nwas, I well knew, next to impossible; and no man ever found a Roman\ngarrison without bravery. But our bold fellows did wonders. Everything\nwas driven from the first rampart; we made more prisoners than we knew\nwhat to do with, and in the midst of all kinds of resistance, we laid\nour ladders to the second wall. But the garrison were still too strong\nfor us. Our easy conquest of the first line might have been a snare, for\nthe battlements before us exhibited an overwhelming force. We fought on,\nbut the ladders were broken with showers of stones from the engines. The\nbusiness looked desperate, but I had made up my mind not to go back,\nafter having once got in; and rallying the men, I carried a ladder\nthrough a storm of lances and arrows, to the foot of the main tower. I\nwas bravely followed, and we were within grasp of the battlement when I\nsaw a cohort rush out from a sally-port below. This was fatal; the foot\nof the rampart was cleared at once; the ladders were flung down; and I\nsuppose it is owing to the ill-judged fidelity of some of my followers\nthat I am unfortunate enough to find myself here and alive.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Friend, the Beggar]\n\nDuring the endless hours of this miserable night, I labored with\nscarcely a hope to keep life in my heroic son. My coming had saved him.\nThe exposure and his wounds must have destroyed him before morning.\nWe consulted as to our next course. I suggested the possibility of\ngaining the fortress by a renewal of the attack, while the garrison was\nunprepared, or perhaps indulging in carousal after success. The necessity\nof some attempt was strongly in my mind, and I expressed my determination\nto run the hazard, if I could find where the remnant of our troop had\ntaken refuge. But this was the difficulty. Signals of any kind must rouse\nthe vigilance of the Romans. The fortress was above our heads, and to\ncollect the men during the night was impossible.\n\nWhile I watched the restless tossings of Constantius, a light stole along\nthe ground at a distance. My first idea was that a Roman patrol was\ncoming to extinguish our last remains of hope. But the light was soon\nperceived to be in the hand of some one cautious of discovery. To keep\nits bearer at a distance, I followed the track and grasped him.\n\n\u201cI surrender,\u201d said the captive, perfectly at his ease; \u201clong life to the\nEmperor!\u201d He lifted the lamp to my face and burst into laughter. \u201cMay I\nhave a Roman falchion through me,\u201d said he, \u201cbut I think we were born\nunder the same planet. By all the food that has entered my lips this day,\nI took your highness for a thief, and, pardon the word, for a Roman one.\nI have been running after you the whole day and night.\u201d\n\nHe confined to talk and writhe, with a kind of mad merriment. I could not\nobtain an answer to my questions, of what led him there, how he could\nguide us out of the forest, or what news he brought from the procurator.\nHe less walked than danced before me through the thickets, as our scene\nwith Florus recurred to his fantastic mind.\n\n[Sidenote: The Physician]\n\n\u201cNever was trick so capital as your escape,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cI would have\ngiven an eye or an arm, things rather an impediment to a beggar, I allow;\nbut it would have been worth a kingdom to see, as I saw, the faces of\nthe whole camp, procurator, officers, troopers, and all, down to the\nhorse-boys, on your slipping through their fingers in such first-rate\nstyle. I have done clever things in my time, but never, no never, shall\nI equal that way of making five thousand men at once look like five\nthousand fools. I own I thought that you would do something brilliant,\nand it was for that purpose that I tried to draw off the eye of that\nscoundrel Florus, for, sot as he is, there are not ten in Palestine\nkeener in all points where roguery is concerned. I caught hold of his\nrobe, told him a ready lie of the largest size about a discovery of coin\nin Jerusalem, and while he was nibbling at the bait I heard the uproar.\nYou were off; I could not help laughing in his illustrious face. He\nkicked me from him, and foaming with rage, ordered every man and horse\nout after your highness. But I saw at a glance that you had the game in\nyour own hands. You skimmed away like a bird; an eagle could not have got\nup that long hill in finer condition. Away you went, bounding from steep\nto steep, like a stone from a sling; you cut the air like a shaft. I have\nseen many a mare in my time, but as for the equal of yours\u2014why a pair of\nwings would be of no use to her. She is a paragon, a bird of paradise, an\nostrich on four legs, a\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI checked his volubility and led him to the rough bedside of Constantius.\nI could not have found a better auxiliary. He knew every application used\nin the medicine of the time, and, to give him credit on his own showing,\nall diseases found in him an enemy worth all the doctors of Asia.\n\n\u201cHe had traveled for his knowledge; he had fought with death from the\nNile to the Ganges, and could swear that the sharks and crocodiles owed\nhim a grudge throughout the world. He had cured rajahs and satraps till\nhe made himself unpopular in every court where men looked for vacancies;\nhad kept rich old men out of their graves until there was a general\nconspiracy of heirs to drive him out of the country; and had poured life\ninto so many dying husbands that the women made a universal combination\nagainst his own.\u201d\n\nThis flow of panegyric, however, did not impede his present services. He\napplied his herbs and bandages with professional dexterity, and kindling\na fire, prepared some food, which went further to cheer the patient than\neven his medicine. He still talked away like one to whom words were a\nnecessary escape for his surcharge of animal spirits.\n\n[Sidenote: The Leech\u2019s Skill]\n\n\u201cHe knew everything in physic. He had studied in Egypt, and could\ncompound the true essential extract of mummy with any man that wore a\nbeard, from the Cataracts to the bottom of the Delta. He once walked to\nthe Mountains of the Moon to learn the secret of powdered chrysolite. On\nthe Himalaya he picked up his knowledge of the bezoar, and a year\u2019s march\nthrough sands and snows rewarded him at once with a bag of the ginseng,\nmost marvelous of roots, and the sight of the wall of China, most endless\nof walls.\u201d\n\nHow he stooped to veil this accumulation of knowledge in rags, he did not\ncondescend to explain. But his skill, so far, was certainly admirable,\nand my brave Constantius recovered with a suddenness that surprised me.\nWith his strength his hopes returned.\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d exclaimed he, waking from a refreshing sleep, \u201cthat I were once\nagain at the foot of the rampart with the ladder in my hand!\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my father\u2019s beard,\u201d replied the leech, \u201cyou are much better where you\nare; for observe, tho I can go further than any doctor between the four\nrivers, yet I never professed to cure the dead. Take Masada by scale! Ha!\nha! take the clouds by scale! You would have found three walls within\nthe one to which they decoyed you. Herod was the prince of builders, and\ncould have so built as to have kept out everything, except the champion\nthat carries no arms but a scythe.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you know Masada?\u201d interrupted I eagerly.\n\n\u201cKnow it, yes; every loophole, window, door\u2014aye, and dungeon\u2014from one end\nof it to the other.\u201d\n\nStill, my escape from the camp was so congenial to his ideas of\npleasantry that it mingled with all his topics. War and politics went for\nnothing compared with the adroitness of eluding Roman insolence.\n\n[Sidenote: His Knowledge of Masada]\n\n\u201cBy Jove!\u201d said he, \u201cwhen I played my tricks with that pearl of pearls,\nthat supreme of horseflesh, your barb, I was clumsy; I played the clown;\nyou beat me hollow; it was matchless; it was my purse in prospect of your\ngenerosity to its emptiness this night\u201d\u2014he made a profound obeisance;\n\u201cto see those fellows panting up the hill after you, nearly killed me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the fortress?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! as to the fortress, the notion of attacking it was madness. I had\nmy doubts of your intention, and broke loose from the camp to give you\nthe benefit of my advice. But the tribune; ha, ha! never was coxcomb so\nrightly served. You won the heart of the whole legion by the single blow\nthat spared him the trouble of sitting his horse. The troopers could not\nkeep their saddles for laughing; and as for the fat old captain, I was\nonly afraid that he would roar himself out of the world. I owed my escape\npartly to him, and his last words were: \u2018Rascal, if you ever fall in with\nthe Arab, whom I suspect to be as pleasant a rogue as yourself, tell him\nthat I wish I had a dozen such in my squadron.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cBut is there any possibility of knowing the present state of the\ngarrison?\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, there is the misfortune. Yesterday I could have got in, and got out\nagain, like a wild-cat. But, after this night\u2019s visit, it is not too much\nto suppose that they may be a little more select in their hospitality.\nThe governor has a slight correspondence of his own to carry on; a trifle\nin the way of trade; I had the honor to be smuggler extraordinary to his\nMightiness, and, as in state secrets everything ought to be kept from the\nvulgar, my path in and out was by a portcullis, far enough from gates and\nsentinels, through which portcullis I should have shown you the way, if\nthe attack had waited for me a few hours longer. That chance is of course\ncut off now. But see, yonder comes the morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we must move, or have the garrison on us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI forbid that maneuver,\u201d interrupted the fellow, with easy audacity.\n\nConstantius and I, in equal surprise, bade him be silent. Yet the\nquietness with which he took the rebuke propitiated me, and I asked his\nreason.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Gains an Ally]\n\n\u201cNothing more than that if you stir you are ruined. The hare is safest\nnear the kennel. The outlaw sleeps sounder in the magistrate\u2019s stable\nthan he ever slept in his den. I once escaped hanging by coolly walking\ninto a jail. There stands Masada!\u201d and he pointed to what looked to me a\nheap of black clouds gathered on the mountain\u2019s brow.\n\n\u201cNot a soul that you have left alive there will dream of your being\nwithin a stone\u2019s throw. The copse is thick enough to hide a man from\neverything but a creditor, an evil conscience, or a wife; stir out of it,\nand they are on your heels. I dislike them so heartily that I hope never\nto have the honor of their attendance. But you are not mad enough to\nthink of trying them again?\u201d\n\n\u201cMad fellow!\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cyou forget in whose presence you are.\u201d\n\nHe continued making some new arrangement of the bandages on his patient\u2019s\nwounds, and without taking the slightest notice of my displeasure,\ncheered his work with a song.\n\n\u201cMad or wise,\u201d said I in soliloquy, \u201cI shall lie in the ditch of that\nfortress, or in its citadel, before next sunrise.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may lie in both,\u201d said the beggar, pursuing his occupation and his\nsong. \u201cMad! Why not?\u2014all the world is in the same way. The Emperor is mad\nenough to stay where men have hands and knives. His people are mad enough\nto let their throats be cut by him. Florus is mad enough to sleep another\nnight in Palestine. You are mad enough to attack his garrison; and I\u2014am\nmad enough to go along with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a singular being. But will you hazard your neck for nothing?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Importance of a Letter]\n\n\u201cCustom makes everything easy,\u201d observed he, spanning his muscular neck\nwith his hand; \u201cI have been so many years within sight of the cord, and\nall other expeditious modes of paying the only debt I ever intend to pay,\nand that only because it is the last, that I care as little about the\nventure as any broken gambler about his last coin. Well then, my plan\nis this: I must get into the town; you must gather your troop without\nnoise and be ready for my signal, a light from one of the towers. A\nfalse attack must be made on the gates, a true attack must be made by\nthe portcullis, which, if it be not stopped up, I will unlock; and your\nhighness may eat your next supper off the governor\u2019s plate. There\u2019s a\nplan for you! I should have been a general. But merit\u2014aye, there\u2019s the\nrub\u2014merit is like the camel\u2019s lading: it stops him at the gate, while\nthe empty slip in. It is like putting wings upon one\u2019s shoulders, when\nthe race is to be run upon the ground. Too much brain in a man is like\ntoo much bend in a bow; the bow either breaks, or sends the arrow a mile\nbeyond the mark. Genius, my prince, is\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nI interrupted the general in his progress into the philosopher, and\ndemanded whether the renewed vigilance of the fortress would not require\nsome additional expedient for his entry. He struck his forehead; the\nthought came, as the flint gives its spark, and he produced a highly\nornamented tablet.\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d said he, \u201cI ought to employ in your service, for if you had not\nknocked down the tribune I could never have picked it up. In making my\nrun over the mountain, I struck upon his correspondence. Oh! the curse of\ncuriosity! if I had not stopped to delight myself with the whole scandal\nof Rome, I should have been here in time. But I lingered, lost an hour in\nlaughing, and when I set out in the dusk lost my way, for the first time\nin my life. Before setting off, however, I wrote a letter, ridiculing\nFlorus in all points, burlesquing the people about him, scoffing at\neverybody in the most heroic style; and having subscribed the name of the\nunlucky tribune, addressed it to one of the most notorious personages\nin all Italy, and placed it where it is sure to be seen, and as sure to\nbe carried to the most noble of procurators. Now could I not begin a\ncorrespondence with the governor, and act the courier myself? Yet, to hit\nupon the subject\u2014\u2014\u201d He paused.\n\nThe letter that I had found occurred to me. I showed it to our adroit\nfriend. He was in ecstasies. He kissed it over and over, and played some\nof those antics which had already made me almost half doubt his sanity.\nHe flung away the tablet.\n\n[Sidenote: The Beggar\u2019s Confidence]\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said he; \u201cfiction is a fine thing in its way. But give me fact when\nI want to entrap a great man. He is so little used to truth that the\nleast atom of it is a spell; the fresh bait will carry the largest hook.\nAye, this is the letter for us; it has the sincerity of the sex, when\nthey are determined to jilt a man; its abuse will cover me from top to\ntoe with the cloak of a true ambassador.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the unpopularity of your credentials,\u201d said I laughingly.\n\n\u201cLet the potentate by whom they are sent settle that affair with the\npotentate by whom they are received,\u201d replied he.\n\n\u201cYou will be hanged.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall first get in.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\n_Prisoners in a Labyrinth_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Before the Fortress]\n\nThe day passed anxiously, for every sound of the huge fortress was heard\nin the thicket. The creaking of machines, brought up to the walls against\nfuture assault; the rattling of hammers; the rolling of wagons loaded\nwith materials for the repair of the night\u2019s damage; the calls of trumpet\nand clarion, and the march of patrols, rang perpetually in our ears. The\ndepth of the copse justified the beggar\u2019s generalship, and the son of El\nHakim proved himself a master of the art of castrametation. Nothing could\nexceed his alertness in threading the mazes of this dwarf forest, where\na wolf could scarcely have made progress and where a lynx would have\nrequired all his eyes.\n\nOn my asking how he contrived to find his way through this labyrinth, he\ntold me, that \u201cfor making one\u2019s way in woods and elsewhere, there was\nnothing like a familiarity with smuggling and affairs of state.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe man,\u201d continued he, \u201cwho has driven a trade in everything, from\npearls to pistachios, without leave of the customs, can not be much\npuzzled by thickets; and the man who has contrived to climb into\nconfidence at court must have had a talent for keeping his feet in the\nmost slippery spots, or he never could have mounted the back stairs.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Sound of the Enemy]\n\nHe collected the scattered troop, of whom but few had fallen, tho\nnearly one half were made prisoners; they were eager to attempt the\nrampart again, all boldly attributing their failure to accident, and all\nthirsting alike for the rescue of their comrades and for revenge. The\nletter was given to our emissary, and I ascended the loftiest of the\nmountain pinnacles, to examine for myself the nature of the ground. From\nmy height the view was complete; the whole interior of the fortress lay\nopen, and in the same glance I saw the grandeur of design which Greek\ntaste could stamp even upon the strength of military architecture, and\nthe utter hopelessness of any direct assault upon Masada[32] by less than\nan army.\n\nWho but he that has actually been in the same situation, can conceive the\nfeelings with which I gazed! Below me was the spot in which a few hours\nmust see me conqueror or nothing! On that battlement I might, before\nanother morn, be stretched in blood! On that tower I might be fixed a\nhorrid spectacle! Nature is irresistible, and her workings, for a while,\noverpowered even the belief in my mysterious sentence. The thought has\nalways terribly returned, but the moment of energy has ever extinguished\nit; the hurrying and swelling current of my heart rolled over it, as the\nwinter torrent rushes over the tomb on its brink. The melancholy memorial\nwas there, sure to reappear with the first subsiding, but lost while the\nflood of feeling whirled along. Every group of soldiery that sang, or\ngamed, or gazed, along the ramparts, under the bright and quiet day which\nfollowed so fearful a night; every archer pacing on his tower; every\nchange of the guard; every entering courier, was visible to me, and all\nwere objects of keen interest.\n\nAt length my courier came. I saw his approach from a pass of the\nmountains at the remotest point from our cover, his well-contrived\nexhaustion, and the fearless impudence with which he beguiled the sulky\nguard at the gate, and stalked before the centurion by whom he was\nbrought to the governor.\n\n[Sidenote: The Roman Reenforcement]\n\nWith what eyes of impatience I now watched the sun. As the hour of fate\napproached, the fever of the mind grew. To defer the attack beyond the\nnight was to abandon it, for by morn the troops under Florus must reach\nMasada. Yet a strange sensation, a chilliness of heart sometimes came\non me, in which my hands were as feeble as an infant\u2019s. Nothing tries\nthe soul more deeply than this concentration of its fortunes into a\nfew moments. The man sees himself standing on the edge of a precipice,\ndown which there is no second step. But the thought of returning\nerrandless and humiliated, and this, too, from my first enterprise, was\nintolerable. I made my decision.\n\nFrom that instant I breathed freely, my strength returned, hope glowed\nin my bosom, and clinging to the granite spire of the mountain, I looked\ndown upon the haughty stronghold, like its evil genius descending from\nthe clouds. The sun touched the western ridge. A horseman came at full\nspeed across the plain at its foot and entered the fortress. He evidently\nbrought news of importance, for the troops were hurried under arms,\nflags hoisted on the ramparts, and the walls lined with archers. All was\nmilitary bustle.\n\nMy first conception was, that my emissary had betrayed us, and that we\nwere about to be attacked. I plunged from the pinnacle, and was following\nthe windings of the goat track to our lair, when I saw the rising of\na cloud of dust in the distance. It moved with rapidity, and soon\ndeveloped its contents. Intelligence of the assault had reached Florus.\nHis sagacity saw what perils turned on the loss of the fortress; he\nshook off his indolence, and came without delay to its succor. Banners,\nhelmets, and scarlet cloaks poured across the plain. A torrent of brass,\nburning and flashing in the sunbeam, continued to roll down the defile,\nand before the evening star glittered the whole cavalry of the fifteenth\nlegion was trampling over the drawbridge of Masada. Here was the\ndeath-blow. My enterprise was henceforth tenfold more hopeless; but with\nme the time for prudence was past. If the reenforcement had arrived but\nan hour before, I should probably have given up the attempt in despair.\nBut my mind was now fixed; I had made an internal vow, and if the whole\nhost of Rome was crowded within the walls beneath me, I should have\nhazarded the assault.\n\nI descended, found my troop collected, and, to my alarm and vexation,\nConstantius, enfeebled as he was, obstinately determined to assault the\nrampart again. With the daring of his enthusiastic heart he told me that\nunless I suffered him to attempt the retrieval of his defeat, he felt it\nimpossible to survive.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Subterranean]\n\n\u201cShame and grief,\u201d said he, \u201care as deadly as the sword, and never will\nI return to the face of her whom I love, or of the family whom I honor,\nunless I can return with the consciousness of having at least deserved to\nbe successful.\u201d\n\nAgainst this I reasoned, but reasoned in vain. We finally divided our\nfollowers. I gave him the attack of the rampart, which was to be the\nplace of his triumph or his grave; flung myself into his embrace, and\nlistened to his parting steps with a heart throbbing at every tread. I\nthen moved round the foot of the mountain toward the secret passage. The\nnight fell as dark as we could wish. I waited impatiently for the signal,\na light from the walls. Yet no signal twinkled from wall or tower, and\nI began to distrust again; but while I lingered, a shout told me that\nConstantius was already engaged.\n\n\u201cLet what will, come,\u201d exclaimed I; \u201conward!\u201d\n\nWe scrambled up the face of the rock, and at length found the entrance\nof the subterranean. It was so narrow that even in the daytime it must\nhave been invisible from below. A low iron door a few yards within the\nfissure was the first obstacle. To beat it down might alarm the garrison.\nThe passage only allowed us to advance one by one. I led the way, hatchet\nin hand. A few blows broke the stones round the lock; the door gave way,\nand we all crept in. In this manner we wound along for a distance which I\nbegan to think endless. The passage was singularly toilsome. We descended\nsteep paths, in which it was with the utmost difficulty that we could\nkeep our feet; we heard the rush of waters through the darkness; blasts\nof bitter wind swept against us; the thick and heavy air that closed\nround us after them almost impeded our breathing; and from time to time\nsulfurous vapors gave the fearful impression that we had lost our way and\nwere actually in the bowels of a burning mine.\n\n[Sidenote: A Dazzling Sight]\n\nMy hunters still held on, but the mere fatigue of struggling through\nthis poisoned atmosphere was fast exhausting their courage. I cheered\nthem with what hopes I could, but never was my imagination more barren.\nI heard, at every step I took, fewer feet following me. The pestilential\nair was beginning to act even upon myself; but the great stake was\nplaying above, and onward I must go. I dared not speak louder than\na whisper; soon no whisper responded to mine. I tottered on, until\noverpowered by the feeling that our sacrifice was in vain, a sensation\nlike that of a sickly propensity to sleep bound up my faculties; whether\nI slept or fainted, I for a time lost all recollection.\n\nA roar, like thunder overhead, roused me. A sight, the most superb, burst\non my dazzled eyes; a roof of seeming gold, arched so high that even\nits splendor was partially dimmed; walls of apparent diamond, pillared\nwith a thousand columns of every precious gem; whole shafts of emerald;\npavilions of jasper; a floor, as far as the glance could pierce, studded\nwith amethyst and ruby; apparent treasures, to which the accumulated\nspoils of the Greek or the Persian were nothing; the finest devices of\nthe most exquisite art, mingled with the most colossal forms which wealth\ncould wear; opulence in its massive and negligent grandeur; opulence in\nits delicate and almost spiritualized beauty, were before me. A slender\nflame burning at the foot of an idol lighted up this stupendous temple.\n\nI was alone, but the orifice by which I had entered was visible;\nthe light shot far down into it, and I soon brought forward the\ngreater number of my troop. All were equally wrapt in wonder, and the\nsuperstitious feelings, which the presence of the Roman and Syrian\nidolaters had partially generated even in the Jewish mind, began to\nstartle those brave men.\n\n\u201cWe had, perhaps, come into forbidden ground; the gods of the earth,\nwhether gods or demons, were powerful, and we stood in the violated\ncenter of the mountain.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Entrapped]\n\nFor the first time, I found the failure of my influence. A few adhered to\nme, but the majority calmly declared that, however fearless of man, they\ndared go no farther. I threw myself on the ground before the entrance\nof the cavern, and desired them to consummate their crime by trampling\non their leader. But they were determined to retire. I taunted them, I\nadjured them, I poured out the most vehement reproaches. They stepped\nover me as I lay at the mouth of the fissure, and at length one and all\nleft me to cry out in my dazzling solitude against the treachery of human\nfaith and the emptiness of human wishes.\n\nThe roar again rolled above; I heard distant shouts and trumpets. In\nthe sudden and desperate consciousness that all was now to be gained or\nlost, I rushed after the fugitives, to force them back. I plunged into\nthe darkness, and grasped the first figure that I could overtake. My\nhand fell on the iron cuirass of a Roman! my blood ran chill. \u201cWere we\nbetrayed\u2014decoyed into the bowels of the mountain to be massacred?\u201d\n\nThe figure started from me. I gave a blind blow of the ax, and heard it\ncrush through his helmet. The man fell at my feet. I wildly demanded,\n\u201cHow he came there, and how we might make our way into the light?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are undone,\u201d said he faintly. \u201cYour spy was seized by the\nprocurator. Your attack was known, and the door of the subterranean left\nunguarded to entrap you. This passage was the entrance to a former mine,\nand in the mine is your grave.\u201d\n\nThe voice sank; he groaned, and was no more.\n\nHis words were soon confirmed by the hurried return of my men. They\nhad found the passage obstructed by a portcullis, dropped since their\nentrance. Torches were seen through the fissures above, and the sound of\narms rattled round us. The ambush was complete.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said I, \u201cwe have but one thing for it\u2014the sword, first for our\nenemy, last for ourselves. If we must die, let us not die by Roman\nhalters.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Dungeon]\n\nOne and all, we rushed back into the mine. But we had now no leisure to\nlook upon the beauty of those spars and crystals which under the light\nof the altar glittered and blushed with such gem-like radiance. From\nthat altar now rose a pyramid of fire; piles of faggots, continually\npoured from a grating above, fed the blaze to intolerable fierceness.\nSmoke filled the mine. To escape was beyond hope. The single orifice had\nbeen already tried. Around us was a solid wall as old as the world. It\nwas already heating with the blaze; our feet shrank from the floor. The\nflame, shooting in a thousand spires, coiled and sprang against the roof,\nthe walls, and the ground. To remain where we were, was to be burned to\ncinders. The catastrophe was inevitable.\n\nIn the madness of pain, I made a furious bound into the column of fire.\nAll followed, for death was certain, and the sooner it came the better.\nWith unspeakable feelings I saw, at the back of the mound of stone on\nwhich the faggots burned, an opening, hitherto concealed by the huge\nfigure of the idol. We crowded into it; here we were at least out of\nreach of the flame. But what was our chance save that of a more lingering\ndeath? We hurried in; another portcullis stood across the passage! What\nwas to be our fate but famine? We must perish in a lingering misery\u2014of\nall miseries the most appalling, and with the bitter aggravation of\nperishing unknown, worthless, useless, stigmatized for slaves or\ndastards! What man of Israel would ever hear of our deaths? What\nchronicler of Rome would deign to vindicate our absence from the combat?\n\nWe were within hearing of that combat. The assault thundered more wildly\nthan ever over our heads; the alternate shout of Jew and Roman descended\nto us. But where were we?\u2014caged, dungeoned, doomed! If the earth had laid\nher treasures at my feet that night, I would have given them for one\nhour of freedom. Oh, for one struggle in daylight, to redeem my name and\navenge my country!\n\nThe roar of battle suddenly sank. Was all lost? Constantius slain? for\nwith life he would not yield. Was the whole hope of Judea crushed at a\nblow? I cried aloud to my followers to force the portcullis. They dragged\nand tore at the bars. But it was of a solid strength that not ten times\nours could master.\n\n[Sidenote: The Rescue]\n\nIn the midst of our hopeless labors, the sound of heavy blows above\ncaught my ear, and fragments of rock fell in; the blows were continued.\nWas this but a new expedient to crush or suffocate us? A crevice at\nlength showed the light of a torch overhead. I grasped the ax to strike\na last blow at the gate and die. I heard a voice pronounce my name!\nAnother blow opened the roof. A face bent down, and a loud laugh\nproclaimed my crazy friend.\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d said he, \u201care you there at last? You have had a hard night\u2019s work\nof it. But come up; I have an incomparable joke to tell you about the\ntribune and the procurator. Come up, my prince, and see the world.\u201d\n\nI had no time to rebuke his jocularity. I climbed up the rugged side\nof the passage, and found myself still in a dungeon. To my look of\ndisappointment, he gave no other answer than a laugh, and unscrewing a\nbar from the loophole above his head\u2014\n\n\u201cIt is my custom,\u201d said he, \u201cto make myself at my ease, wherever I go;\nand as prisons fall to a man\u2019s lot, like other things, I like to be able\nto leave my mansion whenever I am tired of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cForward, then,\u201d said I impatiently.\n\n\u201cBackward,\u201d said the beggar, with the most unruffled coolness. \u201cThat\nloophole is for me alone. I may be under the governor\u2019s care again,\nand I have shown it to you now merely as a curiosity. Drink, my brave\nfellows,\u201d said he, turning to the troop below, and giving them a skin\nof wine; \u201csoldiers must have their comforts, my gallant prince, as well\nas beggars. If that villain procurator had not come by express (for no\nman alive is quicker to catch an idea where he is likely to gain), you\nshould have been by this time sleeping in the governor\u2019s bed, and the\ngovernor probably supping with me. But all is fortune, good and bad, in\nthis world. The procurator, putting your escape and mine together, began\nto think that his presence might be useful here, and the laziest rogue in\nPalestine came with a speed that might have done honor to the quickest,\nwho stands before you in my person. I had gone on swimmingly with the\ngovernor, on the strength of your love-letter, angry as it made him. But\nthe first sight of Florus put an end to my chance of opening the gates\nfor your triumphal entry. I was tied, neck and heels, and flung here, to\nbe gibbeted to-morrow morning. But that morning has not come yet.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Assault]\n\nHe paced the cell uneasily. At length he sprang up, and looking from the\nloophole, whispered, \u201cNow!\u201d A low creaking sound of machinery followed.\n\n\u201cDown into the cavern,\u201d said he; \u201cthat accursed cohort has moved at last.\nAway, my prince, and seek your fortune.\u201d\n\nI exhibited some reluctance to be engulfed again. But his countenance\nassumed a sudden sternness. His only word was, \u201cDown!\u201d\n\nAs we were parting he solemnly pronounced: \u201cMay whatever power befriends\nthe righteous cause, and blasts the man of infamy and blood, send the\nlightnings before you!\u201d\n\nTears stood in his uplifted eyes. His worn countenance flushed as he\nspoke the words. He seized a spear from a corner, and plunged after me\ninto the cavern.\n\nThe portcullis had been drawn up by Sabat; the passage opened at the foot\nof the rampart. I could have rushed upon an army. But the hand of our\nguide was on my shoulder.\n\n\u201cYour attack,\u201d said he, \u201ccan be nothing, unless it be a surprise. Move\nalong unseen, if possible, till you come to the flank of the first tower.\nThere wait for my signal!\u201d He was gone.\n\nThe roar of the assault swelled again, tho it was certainly receding. I\nclimbed the rampart alone. The torches on a distant battlement showed me\nthe Romans in force, and evidently making way. I could restrain myself no\nlonger. I gave the word\u2014concealed by the shadow of the colossal wall\u2014fell\nupon the guard at the gate and cast it open! Constantius was the first\nwho saw me. He sprang forward, with a cry of exultation. The Romans on\nthe battlement feeling themselves cut off, were struck with panic, and\nthrew down their arms; but we had more important objects, and rushed\nback to the citadel. Our work was not yet done; we were entangled in the\nstreets and lost time. The garrison was strong, and fought like men who\nhad no resource but in the sword.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI gave the word\u2014fell upon the guard at the gate, and cast\nit open!\u201d\n\n [_see page 240._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: Master of Masada]\n\nWe were pressed on all sides; an arrow lodged in my shoulder, and I could\nwield the ax no more. In a few discharges, every man round me was bruised\nor bleeding. I saw a Roman column hurrying along the rampart, whose\ncharge must finish the battle at once. But a blaze sprang up in the rear\nof the enemy. Another and another followed. The governor\u2019s palace was\non fire! The sight broke the Roman courage. Cries of \u201ctreachery\u201d rang\nthrough the ranks; they turned, flung away spear and shield\u2014and I was\nmaster of the strongest fortress in Palestine!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\n_The Revenge of a Victor_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Beggar\u2019s Garb]\n\nResistance was at an end, and we had now only to prevent the\nconflagration from snatching the prize out of our hands. The flames rose\nfiercely, and another hour might see the famous arsenal beyond the power\nof man. Leaving to Constantius the care of securing the prisoners, I\nentered the palace, followed by a detachment. In the tumult I had missed\nmy deliverer, yet scarcely could think of him, or anything else, while\nthe enemy were showering lances and shafts upon us. But now, some fears\nof his extravagance recurred to me, and I ordered strict search to be\nmade for him. The fire had seized on but a wing of the palace and was\nsoon extinguished. I was ascending the stairs when a figure bounded full\nagainst me from a side door. It was the beggar. His voice, however, was\nmy only means of recognition, for his outward man had undergone a total\nchange. He wore a rich cuirass and helmet, a Greek falchion glittered\nin his embroidered belt, a tissued mantle hung over his shoulder, and\na spear ponderous, but inlaid and polished with the nicest art, was\nbrandished in his hand.\n\n\u201cWhat,\u201d said he, \u201cis all over? May all the fogs of earth and skies\ncloud me, but I was born under the most malignant planet that ever did\nmischief; I left you only to do some business of my own; I failed there.\nMy next business was to join and help you to give a lesson to those Roman\nhounds; or, if they were to give the lesson to us, take chance along with\nyou and exhibit as a soldier. I ventured to borrow the governor\u2019s arms,\nas you see, but I am always unlucky.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it was you who set this roof on fire, your torch was worth an army.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Beggar Confronts Florus]\n\n\u201cAye, I never saw fire fail; no man is ashamed of running away from\na blaze; and I thought that the Romans were tired enough, to be glad\nof the excuse. But I had a point besides to carry. Florus is somewhere\nunder these ceilings. I determined to burn him out, and pay home my\nlong arrear, as he attempted to make his escape. But you have just\nextinguished the cleverest earthly contrivance for the discovery of\nrascal governors, and I must break an oath I made long ago, against his\never dying in his bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cFlorus here! then we must find him without delay. But who comes?\u201d\n\nAt the word I seized a slave of the palace, attempting to escape. He\nbegged hard for his life, and promised to conduct us where the procurator\nwas concealed. We hurried on through a succession of winding passages; a\nstrong door stopped us.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said the slave.\n\n\u201cBy the beard of my fathers, the wolf shall not be long in his den!\u201d\ncried the son of El Hakim. \u201cProcurator, your last crime is committed.\u201d\n\nHe threw himself against the door with prodigious force; the bars burst\naway, and before us lay the terror of Judea.\n\nHe was to be a terror no more. A cup, the inseparable amethystine cup,\nstood on the table beside his couch. He lay writhing in pain. His\ncountenance wore the ghastliest hue of death. I bade him surrender. He\nsmiled, took the cup in his trembling hand, and eagerly swallowed the\nremaining drops in its bottom.\n\n\u201cWhat! poison!\u201d exclaimed my companion; \u201chas the villain escaped me? Here\nis my planet again; never was man so unlucky. But he is not dead yet.\u201d\n\nHe drew his falchion, and lifted it up with the look of one about to\noffer a solemn sacrifice. I seized his arm.\n\n\u201cHe is dying,\u201d said I; \u201che is beyond earthly vengeance.\u201d\n\nThe wretched criminal before us was nearly insensible to his brief\npreservation. The poison, acting upon a frame already broken with public\nand private anxieties, was making quick work, and the glazed eye, the\nfallen countenance, and the collapsed limb showed that his last hour was\ncome.\n\n[Sidenote: The Death-Bed of Gessius Florus]\n\n\u201cAnd this is the thing,\u201d soliloquized the son of El Hakim, \u201cthat men\nfeared! In this senseless flesh was the power to make the free tremble\nfor their freedom, and the slave curse the hour that he was born. This\nmass of mortality could stand between me and happiness\u2014could make me a\nbeggar, a wanderer, miserable, mad!\u201d\n\nHe caught up the hand that hung nerveless from the couch.\n\n\u201cAccursed hand!\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cwhat torrents of blood have owed their\nflowing to thee! A word written by these fingers cost a thousand lives.\nAnd, O Heaven! in this cruel grasp was the key of thy dungeon, my\nMary!\u2014that dungeon of more than the body, the hideous prison-house that\nextinguished thy mind!\u201d\n\nHe let fall the hand and wept bitterly.\n\nTo my utter surprise the procurator started upon his feet, and with\nthe look that had so often made the heart quake, haughtily demanded\nwho we were, and how we dared to interrupt his privacy? I felt as if a\nspirit had started up before me from the shroud. But this extraordinary\nrevival was merely the last effort of a fierce mind. He tottered, and was\nfalling, when my companion darted forward, grasped him by the bosom with\none hand, and waving the falchion above him with the other\u2014\n\n\u201cHe hears! he sees!\u201d exclaimed he exultingly. \u201cWho are we? Who am I?\nLook upon me, Gessius Florus, before the sight leaves your eyes forever.\nSee Sabat the Ishmaelite, the despised, the insulted, the trampled, the\nundone! But never did you prosper from the hour of my ruin. I was your\nspy, but it was only to bring you into a snare; I fed your pride, but it\nwas only that it might turn the hearts of all men against you; I tempted\nyour avarice, only that wealth might make your nights sleepless, and\nyour days, days of fear; I roused your wrath into rage; I inflamed your\nambition into frenzy! This night, I led your conquerors upon you. But I\nhad made all sure. In another week, Gessius Florus, if you had escaped\nthis sword, you would have been seized by order of the Emperor, stripped\nof your wealth, your accursed power, and your wretched life. The command\nfor your blood is this night crossing the Mediterranean!\u201d\n\nThe dying man struggled to get free, wrenched himself by a violent effort\nfrom the strong grasp that at once held and sustained him, and fell. He\nwas dead!\n\nThe son of El Hakim stood gazing on the body in silence, when the glitter\nof a ring on the hand, as it lay spread upon the floor, struck his eye.\nHe seized it with an outcry; the man was wholly changed; his frowning\nvisage flashed with joy. I in vain demanded the cause. He pressed the\nsignet to his lips.\n\n\u201cFarewell, farewell,\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cWill you not wait for your share of the spoil, your ample and deserved\nreward?\u201d\n\n\u201cFarewell!\u201d he repeated, and burst from the chamber.\n\n[Sidenote: The Change in Constantius]\n\nThis memorable night made changes in more than the Ishmaelite.\nConstantius was at last in his element. I had hitherto seen him disguised\nby circumstances; the fugitive from his country, the lover under the\nembarrassments of forbidden passion, the ill-starred soldier. His native\nvigor of soul was under a perpetual cloud. But now the cloud broke away,\nand the consciousness of having nobly retrieved his check, and the still\nprouder consciousness of the career that this triumph laid open before\nhim, brought the character of his mind into full light. He was now the\nlofty enthusiast that nature made him. He breathed generous ambition;\nhis step was the step of command; and when he rushed to my embrace with\nalmost the eagerness of a boy, and a voice stifled with emotion, I saw\nin him the romance, the soaring spirit, and the passionate love of glory\nthat molded the Greek hero.\n\nHe had done his duty nobly. All were in admiration of the assault. The\nRomans had been fully prepared. He scaled the rampart, and scaled it\nin their teeth. His men followed gallantly. He pressed on; the second\nrampart was stormed. I had found him at the foot of the third, checked by\nits impregnable mass, but defying the whole garrison to drive him back.\nWhen I afterward saw the strength of those bulwarks, I felt that with\nsuch a leader at the head of troops animated by his spirit, there was\nnothing extravagant in the boldest hope of war.\n\nThis was an eventful night, and there was still much to be done before we\nslept. I threw over my tattered garments one of the many mantles that lay\nloose round the chamber, flung another on the body of the procurator, and\nsallied forth to give the final orders of the night. The prisoners had\nbeen already secured, and I found the great hall of the palace crowded\nwith centurions. The interview was whimsical; for a while I escaped\nrecognition; the gashed faces and torn raiment of my hunters, which bore\nthe marks of our dreary march through the subterranean; the rough heads\nand hands stained with the fight, a startling contrast to the perfect\nequipment of the Roman under all circumstances, gave them the look of\nthe robber tribes. My disguise was in the contrary way, yet complete.\nThe cloak was accidentally one of the most showy in the procurator\u2019s\nwardrobe. I found myself enveloped in furs and tissues; and their Arab\nacquaintance was forgotten in what seemed to them the legitimate monarch\nof the mountains.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Meets the Captain]\n\nI was received by the circle of captives with the decent dignity of\nthe brave. There was but one exception, which I might have guessed\u2014the\ntribune. He was all humiliation, stooped to make some abject request\nabout his baubles, and was probably on the point of apologizing for his\never having taken up the trade of war, when I turned on my heel and shook\nhands with my old friend the captain. He looked in evident perplexity.\nAt last, through even the grim evidences of the night\u2019s work on my\ncountenance, and the problem of my pompous mantle, his brightening eye\nbegan to recognize me, and he burst out with: \u201cThe Arab, by Jupiter!\u201d\nBut when I asked him what had become of his baggage, I touched a tender\nstring, and, with a countenance as grave as if he had sustained an\nirreparable calamity, he told me that his whole traveling cellar was\nin the hands of my men, and it was his full belief that he was at that\nmoment not worth a flask in the wide world!\n\nThe tribune turned away in conscious disgrace, and I sent him to\na dungeon to meditate till morn on the awkwardness of insolence to\nstrangers. With the others, I sat down to such entertainment as a sacked\nfortress could supply, but which hunger, thirst, and fatigue rendered\nworth all the banquets of the idle. The old captain cheered his soul and\ngrew rhetorical.\n\n\u201cWine,\u201d said he, flask in hand, \u201cdoes wonders. It is the true leveler,\nfor it leaves no troublesome inequality of conditions. It is the true\nsponge that pays all debts at sight, for it makes us forget the existence\nof a creditor. It is the true friend that sticks by a man to the last\ndrop; the faithful mistress that forsakes no man; and the most charming\nof wives, whose tongue no husband hears, whose company is equally\ndelightful at all hours, and who is as bewitching to-day as she was fifty\nyears ago.\u201d\n\nThe panegyric was popular. The governor\u2019s cellar flowed. The Italian\nconnoisseurship in vintages was displayed in the most profound style, and\nlong before we parted the great \u201csponge\u201d which wipes away debt had wiped\naway every recollection of defeat. The idea of their being prisoners\nnever clouded a sunbeam that came from the bottle. The letters scattered\nfrom the tribune\u2019s saddle were an unfailing topic. The legion had picked\nthem up on the march; they had the piquancy of the scandal of particular\nfriends; and the addition made to their intelligence by my wild associate\nwas unanimously declared the most dexterous piece of frolic, the most\npleasant venom, and the most venomous pleasantry, that ever emanated from\nthe wit of man.\n\n[Sidenote: The Armory of Herod]\n\nMy task was not yet done. I left those gay soldiers to their wine,\nand with Constantius and some torch-bearers hastened to the Armory of\nHerod\u2014the forbidden ground; the treasure-house of war; and, if old rumor\nwere to be believed, the place of many a mysterious celebration unlawful\nto be seen by human eyes.\n\nThe building was in the center of the citadel,[33] and was of the\nstateliest architecture. The massive doors were now thrown open. At the\nfirst step, I shrank from the blaze of steel and gold that shot back\nagainst the torches. The walls of this gigantic hall were covered with\narms and armor of every nation\u2014cuirasses, Persian, Roman, and Greek; the\nplate mail of the Gaul; the Indian chain-armor; innumerable headpieces,\nfrom the steel cap of the Scythian to the plumed and triple-crested\nhelmet of the Greek, that richest combination of strength and beauty ever\nborne by soldiership; shields of every shape and sculpture; the Greek\norb, the Persian rhomb, the Cimmerian crescent; all arms\u2014the ponderous\nspear of the phalanx; the Thracian pike; the German war-hatchet; the\nItalian javelin; the bow, from the Nubian, twice the height of man, to\nthe small half-circle of the Assyrian cavalry; swords, the broad-bladed\nand fearful falchion of the Roman, every thrust of which let out a life;\nthe huge two-handed sword of the Baltic tribes; the Syrian simitar; the\nPersian acinaces; the deep-hilted knife of the Indian islander; the\nArab poniard; the serrated blade of the African\u2014all were there in their\nrichest models, the collection of Herod\u2019s life. War had raised him to a\nrank which allowed the indulgence of his most lavish tastes of good and\nill; the sword was his true scepter, and never king bore the sign of his\nsovereignty more royally emblazoned.\n\n[Sidenote: The Secret Hall]\n\nAfter long admiration of this display of the wealth dearest to the\nsoldier, I was retiring, when a slave approached, and prostrating\nhimself, told me that a hall remained, still more singular, \u201cthe hall in\nwhich the great Herod received his death-warning.\u201d\n\nI gazed round the armory; there was no door but the one by which we had\nentered\u2014\u2014\n\n\u201cNot here,\u201d said the Ethiopian, \u201cyet it is beside us. The foot of a Roman\nhas never entered it. The secret remains with me alone. Does my lord\ncommand that it shall be revealed?\u201d\n\nThe order was given. The slave took down one of the coats of mail, pushed\nback a valve, and we entered a winding stair which led us downward\nfor some minutes. The narrow passage and heavy air reminded me of the\nsubterranean. Our torches burned dimly, and the visages of my attendants\nshowed how little their gallantry was to be relied on, if we were to be\nbrought into contact with magic and ghosts.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said the Ethiopian, \u201cit was the custom of the great king in\nhis declining years, when his heart was broken by the loss of the most\nbeloved of wives, and maddened by the conspiracies of the princes, his\nsons, to come and consult others than the God of Jerusalem. Here the\nChaldee men of wisdom came to summon the spirits of the departed and show\nthe fates of kingdoms. We are now in the bowels of the mountain.\u201d\n\nHe loosed a chain, which disappeared into the ground with a hollow noise.\nA huge mass of rock slowly rolled back, and showed a depth of darkness\nthrough which our twinkling torches scarcely made way.\n\n\u201cStop,\u201d said the slave; \u201cI should have first lighted the shrine.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Skeleton Warriors]\n\nHe left us, and we shortly saw a blaze of many colors on a tripod in the\ncenter. As the blaze strengthened, a scene of wonder awoke before the\neye. A host of armed statues grew upon the darkness. The immense vault\nwas peopled with groups of warriors, all the great military leaders of\nthe world in their native arms, and surrounded by a cluster of their\ncaptains; the disturbers of the earth, from Sesostris down to C\u00e6sar\nand Antony, brandishing the lance or reining the charger, each in his\nknown attitude of command. There rushed Cyrus in the scythed chariot,\nsurrounded by his horsemen, barbed from head to foot. There was to be\nseen Alexander, with the banner of Macedon waving above his head, and\narmed as when he leaped into the Granicus; there Hannibal, upon the\nelephant that he rode at Cann\u00e6; there C\u00e6sar, with the head of Pompey at\nhis feet. Those, and a long succession of the masters of victory, each\nin the moment of supreme fortune, made the vault a representative palace\nof human glory. But the view from the entrance told but half the tale.\nIt was when I advanced and lifted the torch to the countenance of the\nfirst group that the moral was visible. All the visages were those of\nskeletons. The costly armor was hung upon bones. The spears and scepters\nwere brandished by the thin fingers of the grave. The vault was the\nrepresentative sepulcher of human vanity. This was one of the fantastic\nfits of a mind which felt too late the emptiness of earthly honors.\nHalf pagan, the powerful intellect of the man gave way to the sullen\nsuperstitions of the murderer. Egypt was still the mystic tyrant of\nPalestine, and Herod, in his despair, sank into the slave of a credulity\nat once weak and terrible.\n\n[Sidenote: Herod\u2019s Death]\n\nIn the last hours of a long and deeply varied life, exhausted more\nby misery of soul than disease, when medicine was hopeless, and he\nhad returned from trying the famous springs of Callirho\u00eb in vain, the\nking ordered himself to be brought into this vault, and left alone. He\nremained in it during some hours. The attendants were at length roused\nby hideous wailings; they broke open the entrance, and found him in a\nparoxysm of terror. The vault was filled with the strong odors of some\nmagical preparations, still burning on the tripod. The sound of departing\nfeet was heard, but Herod sat alone. In accents of the wildest wo he\ndeclared that he had seen the statues filled with sudden life, and\ncharging him with the death of his wife and children.\n\nHe left Masada instantly, pronouncing a curse upon the hour in which he\nfirst listened to the arts of Egypt. He was carried to Jericho, and there\nlaid on a bed, from which he never rose. Alternate bursts of blasphemy\nand remorse made his parting moments frightful. But tyranny was in his\nlast thought, and he died, holding in his hand an order for the massacre\nof every leading man in Judea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\n_The Difficulties of a Leader_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The First Decisive Blow]\n\nThe first decided blow of the war was given. I had incurred the full\nwrath of Rome; the trench between me and forgiveness was impassable, and\nI felt a stern delight in the conviction that hope of truce or pardon was\nat an end; the seizure of Masada was a defiance of the whole power of the\nempire. But it had the higher importance of a triumph at the beginning of\na war, the moment when even the courageous are perplexed by doubt, and\nthe timid watch their opportunity to raise the cry of ill fortune. It\nshowed the facility of conquest, where men are determined to run the full\nrisk of good or evil; it shook the military credit of the enemy, by the\nproof that they could be overmatched in activity, spirit, and conduct.\nThe capture of a Roman fortress by assault was a thing almost unheard of.\nBut the consummate value of the enterprise was, in its declaration to\nthose who would fight, that they had leaders, able and willing to take\nthe last chance with them for the freedom of their country.\n\n[Sidenote: The Duties of Command]\n\nWhen day broke and the strength of this celebrated fortress was fairly\nvisible, I could scarcely believe that our success was altogether the\nwork of man. The genius of ancient fortification produced nothing more\nremarkable than Masada. It stood on the summit of a height so steep that\nthe sun never reached the bottom of the surrounding defiles. Its outer\nwall was a mile round, with thirty-eight towers, each eighty feet high.\nImmense marble cisterns; granaries like palaces, capable of holding\nprovisions for years; exhaustless arms and military engines, in buildings\nof the finest Greek art; defenses of the most costly skill at every\ncommanding point of the interior\u2014all showed the kingly magnificence and\nwarlike care of the most brilliant, daring, and successful monarch of\nJudea since Solomon.\n\nBy the first dawn a new wonder struck the population, whom the tumult\nof the night had gathered on the neighboring hills. I ordered the great\nstandard of Naphtali to be hoisted on the citadel. It was raised amid\nshouts and hymns, and the huge scarlet folds spread out, majestically\ndisplaying the emblem of our tribe, the Silver Stag, before the morn.\nShouts echoed and reechoed round the horizon. The hill-tops, covered\nas far as the eye could reach, did homage to the banner of Jewish\ndeliverance, and inspired by the sight, every man of their thousands took\nsword and spear and made ready for war.\n\nMy first care was to relieve the anxieties of my family, and Constantius,\nwith triumph in every feature, and love and honor glowing in his heart,\nwas made the bearer of the glad tidings. The duties of command now\ndevolved rapidly on me. An army to be raised, a plan of operations to\nbe determined on, the chieftains of the country to be combined, and the\nprofligate feuds of Jerusalem to be extinguished, were the difficulties\nthat lay before my first step. It is in preliminaries like these that the\nburning spirit of a man, full of the manliest resolutions and caring no\nmore for personal safety than he cares for the weed under his feet, is\nfated to feel the true troubles of enterprise.\n\nI soon experienced the disgust of having to contend with the indolent,\nthe artful, and the base. My mind, eager to follow up the first success,\nwas entangled in tedious and intricate negotiation with men whom no\nsense of right or wrong could stimulate to integrity. Rival interests\nto be conciliated, gross corruption to be crushed, paltry passions to\nbe stigmatized, family hatreds to be reconciled, childish antipathies,\ngrasping avarice, giddy ambition, savage cruelty, to be rectified,\npropitiated, or punished, were among my tasks before I could plant a foot\nin the field. If those are the fruits that grow round even the righteous\ncause, what must be the rank crop of conspiracy?\n\n[Sidenote: The Value of Councils]\n\nBut one point I speedily settled. The first assemblage of the chieftains\nsatisfied me as to the absurdity of councils of war. Every man had his\nplan, and every plan had some personal object in view. I saw that to\ndiscuss them would be useless and endless. I had already begun to learn\nthe diplomatic art of taking my own way with the most unruffled aspect.\nI desired the proposers to reduce their views to writing, received their\nmemorials with perfect civility, took them to my cabinet, and gave their\nbrilliancy to add to the blaze of my fire. High station is soon compelled\nto dissemble. A month before I should have spoken out my mind and treated\nthe plans and the proposers alike with scorn. But a month before I was\nneither general nor statesman. Freed now from the encumbrance of many\ncouncilors, I decided on a rapid march to Jerusalem[34]\u2014there was power\nand glory in the word. By this measure I should be master of all that\nfinal victory could give, the popular mind, the national resources, and\nthe highest prize of the most successful war.\n\nThose thoughts banished rest from my pillow. I passed day and night in a\nperpetual, feverish exaltation of mind; yet if I were to compute my few\nperiods of happiness, among them would be the week when I could neither\neat, drink, nor sleep, from the mere overflowing of my warlike reveries\nat Masada. We may well forgive the splenetic apathy and sullen scorn of\nlife that beset the holder of power, when time or chance leaves his grasp\nempty. The mighty monarch; the general, on whose sword hung the balance\nof empires; the statesman, on whose council rose or fell the welfare of\nmillions, sunk into the unexciting employments of common life, their\ngenius and their fame a burden and a reproach, the source of a restless\nand indignant contrast between what they were and what they are; how\nfeeble an emblem of such minds is the lion fanged or the eagle chained!\nWe may pass by even the frivolities which so often make the world stare\nat the latter years of famous men. When they can no longer soar to\ntheir natural height, all beneath is equal to them; our petty wisdom is\nnot worth their trouble. They scorn the little opinions of commonplace\nmankind, and follow their own tastes, contemptuously trifle and proudly\nplay the fool.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Leads an Insurrection]\n\nBefore the week was done, I was at the head of a hundred thousand men; I\nwas the champion of a great country; the leader of the most formidable\ninsurrection that ever contended with Rome in the east; the general of an\narmy whose fidelity and spirit were not to be surpassed on earth. Could\nambition ask more? Yet there was even more, tho too solemn to be asked\nby human ambition. My nation was sacred; a cause above human nature was\nto be defended; in that cause I might at once redeem my own name from\nobscurity, and be the instrument of exalting the name, authority, and\nreligion of a people, the regal people of the Sovereign of all!\n\nConstantius returned. It was in vain that I had directed my family to\ntake refuge in the mountain country of Naphtali. My authority was for\nonce disputed at home. Strong affection mastered fear, and swift as love\ncould speed, I saw them enter the gates of Masada.\n\nSuch meetings can come but once in a life. I was surrounded by innocent\nfondness, beauty most admirable, and faith that no misfortunes could\nshake; and I was surrounded by them in an hour when prosperity seemed\nlaboring to lavish on me all the wishes of man. I felt, too, by the\nglance with which Miriam looked upon her \u201chero,\u201d that I had earned a\nhigher title to the world\u2019s respect. Had she found me in chains, she\nwould have shared them without a murmur. But her lofty heart rejoiced to\nfind her husband thus vindicating his claims to the homage of mankind.\n\nYet to those matchless enjoyments I gave up but one day. By the next\ndawn, the trumpet sounded for the march. I knew the importance of\nfollowing up the first blow in all wars\u2014its matchless importance in a\nwar of insurrection. To meet the disciplined troops of Rome in pitched\nbattles would be madness. The true maneuver was to distract their\nattention by variety of onset, cut off their communications, keep their\ncamps in perpetual alarm, and make our activity, numbers, and knowledge\nof the country the substitutes for equipment, experience, and the science\nof the soldier.\n\n[Sidenote: An Omen]\n\nIn summoning those brave men, I renewed the regulations of the Mosaic\nlaw[35]\u2014a law whose regard for natural feelings distinguished it in\nthe most striking manner from the stern violences of the pagan levy. No\nman was required to take up arms who had built a house and had not yet\ndedicated it; no man who had planted a vineyard or olive ground, and had\nnot yet reaped the produce; no man who had betrothed a wife and had not\nyet taken her home; and no man during the first year of his marriage.\n\nMy prisoners were my last embarrassment. To leave them to the chance\nof popular mercy, or to leave them immured in the fortress, would be\ncruelty. To let them loose would be, of course, to give so many soldiers\nto the enemy. I adopted the simpler expedient of marching them to\nBerytus, seizing a squadron of the Roman provision ships, and embarking\nthe whole for Italy. To my old friend the captain, whose cheerfulness\ncould be abated only by a failure of the vintage, I offered a tranquil\nsettlement among our hills. The etiquette of soldiership was formidably\ntasked by my offer, for the veteran was thoroughly weary of his thankless\nservice. He hesitated, swore that I deserved to be a Roman, and even a\ncaptain of horse; but finished by saying that, bad a trade as the army\nwas, he was too old to learn a better. I gave him and some others their\nunconditional liberty, and he parted from the Jewish rebel with more\nobvious regret than perhaps he ever dreamed himself capable of feeling\nfor anything but his horse and his Falernian.\n\nEleazar took the charge of my family and the command of Masada. The sun\nburst out with cheerful omen on the troops, as I wound down the steep\nroad, named the Serpent, from its extreme obliquity. The sight before me\nwas of a nature to exhilarate the heaviest heart; an immense host making\nthe air ring with acclamations at the coming of their chieftain. The\nmental perspective of public honors and national service was still more\nexalting. Yet I felt a boding depression, as if within those walls had\nbegun and ended my prosperity!\n\n[Sidenote: The Marching of a Host]\n\nOn the first ridge which crossed our march I instinctively stopped to\ngive a farewell look. The breeze had sunk, and the scarlet banner shook\nout its folds to the sun no more; a cloud hung on the mountain-peak and\ncovered the fortress with gloom. I turned away. The omen was true.\n\nBut sickly thoughts were forgotten when we were once fairly on the march.\nWho that has ever marched with an army has not known its ready cure for\nheaviness of heart? The sound of the moving multitude, their broad mirth,\nthe mere trampling of their feet, the picturesque lights that fall upon\nthe columns as they pass over the inequalities of the ground, keep the\neye and the mind singularly alive.\n\nOur men felt the whole delight of the scene, and ran about like deer, or\nhorses let loose into pasture. But to the military habits of Constantius\nthis rude vigor was the highest vexation. He galloped from flank to flank\nwith hopeless diligence, found that his arrangements only perplexed our\nbold peasantry the more, and at length fairly relinquished the idea of\ngaining any degree of credit by the brilliancy of their discipline. But\nI, no more a tactician than themselves, was content with seeing in them\nthe material of the true soldier. The spear was carried awkwardly, but\nthe hand that carried it was strong; the march was irregular, but the\nstep was firm; if there were song, and mirth, and clamor, they were the\ncheerful voices of the brave; and I could read in the countenances of\nranks which no skill could keep in order, the generous devotedness that,\nin wars like ours, have so often baffled the proud and left of the mighty\nbut clay.\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Despairs]\n\nDuring the day we saw no enemy, and swept along with the unembarrassed\nstep of men going up to one of our festivals. The march was hot; the zeal\nof our young soldiers made it rapid, and we continued it long after the\nusual hour of repose. But then sleep took its thorough revenge. It was\nfortunate for our fame that the enemy was not nigh, for sleep fastened\nirresistibly and at once upon the whole multitude. Sentinels were\nplanted in vain; the spears fell from their hands, and the watchers were\ntranquilly laid side by side with the slumbering. Outposts and the usual\nprecautionary arrangements were equally useless. Sleep was our master.\nConstantius exerted his vigilance with fruitless activity, and before an\nhour passed, he and I were probably the sole sentinels of the grand army\nof Judea.\n\n\u201cWhat can be done with such sluggards?\u201d said he indignantly, pointing to\nthe heaps that, wrapped in their cloaks, covered the fields far round,\nand in the moonlight looked more like surges tipped with foam than human\nbeings.\n\n\u201cWhat can be done? Wonders.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill they ever be able to maneuver in the face of the legions?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill they ever be able to move like regular troops?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill they ever be able to keep their eyes open after sunset?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, after such a march as we have given them to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, then, under heaven, will they be good for?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo beat the Romans out of Palestine!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\n_\u201cNever Shalt Thou Enter Jerusalem\u201d_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Appearance of the Enemy]\n\nBefore the sun was up my peasants were on the march again. From the\nannual journeys of the tribes to the great city, no country was ever\nknown so well to its whole population, as Palestine. Every hill, forest,\nand mountain stream was now saluted with a shout of old recognition.\nDiscipline was forgotten as we approached those spots of memory, and the\ntroops rambled loosely over the ground on which in gentler times they had\nrested in the midst of their caravans. Constantius had many an irritation\nto encounter, but I combated his wrath, and pledged myself that when the\noccasion arrived, my countrymen would show the native vigor of the soil.\n\n\u201cLet my peasants take their way,\u201d said I. \u201cIf they will not make an\narmy, let them make a mob; let them come into the field with the bold\npropensities of their nature unchecked by the trammels of regular\nwarfare; let them feel themselves men and not machines, and I pledge\nmyself for their victory.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will soon have the opportunity; look yonder.\u201d\n\nHe pointed to a low range of misty hills some miles onward.\n\n\u201cAre we to fight the clouds, for I can see nothing else?\u201d\n\n\u201cOur troops, I think, would be exactly the proper antagonists. But there\nis one cloud upon those hills that something more than the wind must\ndrive away.\u201d\n\nThe sun threw a passing gleam upon the heights, and it was returned by\nthe sparkling of spears. The enemy were before us. Constantius galloped\nwith some of our hunters to the front, to observe their position. The\ntrumpets sounded, and my countrymen justified all that I had said by the\nenthusiasm that lighted up every countenance at the hope of coming in\ncontact with the oppressor.\n\n[Sidenote: A Skilful Move]\n\nWe advanced; shouts rang from tribe to tribe; we quickened our pace;\nat length the whole multitude ran. At the foot of the height every man\npushed forward without waiting for his fellow; it was complete confusion.\nThe chief force against us was cavalry, and I saw them preparing to\ncharge. We must suffer prodigiously, let the day end how it would. The\nwhole campaign might hang on the first repulse. I stood in agony. I saw\nthe squadrons level their lances. I saw the centurions dash out in front.\nAll was ready for the fatal charge. To my astonishment, the whole of the\ncavalry wheeled round and disappeared.\n\nThe panic was like miracle\u2014equally rapid and unaccountable. I rode to the\ntop of the hill and discovered the secret. Constantius, observing the\nenemy\u2019s attention taken up with my advance, had made his way round the\nheights. His trumpet gave the first notice of the maneuver. Their rear\nwas threatened, and the cavalry fled, leaving a cohort in our hands.\n\nNever was successful soldier honored with a more clamorous triumph than\nConstantius. Nature speaks out among her untutored sons. Envy has nothing\nto do in such fields as ours. He was applauded to the skies.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, as I pressed the gallant hand that had planted the\nfirst laurel on our brows, \u201cyou see that, if plowmen and shepherds make\nrude soldiers, they make capital judges of soldiership. You might have\nconquered a kingdom without receiving half this panegyric in Rome.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe service is but begun, and we shall have another lesson to get or\ngive to-morrow. Those fellows are grateful, I allow,\u201d said he, with a\nsmile, \u201cbut you must confess that, for what has been done, we have to\nthank the discipline that brought us into the Roman rear.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and the discipline that made them so much alarmed about their rear\nas to run away when they might have charged and beaten us.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Scene of Inspiration]\n\nThis little affair put us all in spirits, and the songs and cheerful\nclamors burst out with renewed animation. But the appearance of the enemy\nsoon became evident. We found the ruined cottage, the torn-up garden,\nthe burned orchard\u2014those habitual evidences of the camp. As we advanced,\nthe tracks of wagons and of the huge wheels of the military engines\nwere fresh in the grass, and from time to time some skeleton of a beast\nof burden, or some half-covered wreck of man, showed that desolation\nhad walked there; the cavalry soon appeared on the heights in larger\nbodies; but all was forgotten in the sight that at length rose upon the\nhorizon\u2014we beheld, bathed in the richest glow of a summer\u2019s eve, the\nsummits of the mountains round Jerusalem, and glorious above them, like\nanother sun, the golden beauty of the Temple of temples!\n\nWhat Jew ever saw that sight but with homage of heart? Fine fancies may\ndeclaim of the rapture of returning to one\u2019s country after long years.\nRapture! to find ourselves in a land of strangers, ourselves forgotten,\nour early scenes so changed that we can scarcely retrace them, filled up\nwith new faces, or with the old so worn by time and care that we read\nin them nothing but the emptiness of human hope; the whole world new,\nfrivolous, and contemptuous of our feelings. Where is the mother, the\nsister, the woman of our heart? We find their only memorials among the\ndead, and bitterly feel that our true country is the tomb.\n\nBut the return to Zion was not of the things of this world. The Jew saw\nbefore him the city of prophecy and power. Mortal thoughts, individual\nsorrows, the melancholy experiences of human life, had no place among\nthe mighty hopes that gathered over it, like angels\u2019 wings. Restoration,\nboundless empire, imperishable glory, were the writing upon its bulwarks.\nIt stood before him, the Universal City, whose gates were to be open\nfor the reverence of all time; the symbol to the earth of the returning\npresence of the Great King; the promise to the Jew of an empire,\ntriumphant over the casualties of nations, the crimes of man, and even\nthe all-grasping avarice of the grave.\n\nThe multitude prostrated themselves; then rising, broke forth into the\nglorious hymn sung by the tribes on their journeys to the Temple:\n\n\u201cGreat is the Lord, and greatly to be praised, in the city of our God,\nthe mountain of his holiness.\n\n[Sidenote: A Tribal Hymn]\n\n\u201cBeautiful, the joy of the earth is Mount Zion, the city of the Great\nKing!\n\n\u201cGod is known in her palaces for a refuge.\n\n\u201cWe have thought of thy loving-kindness, O God, in the midst of thy\ntemple.\n\n\u201cWalk about Zion, tell the towers thereof. Mark ye her bulwarks, consider\nher palaces. For her God is our God, forever and ever; he will be our\nguide in death; his praise is to the ends of the earth. Glory to the king\nof Zion.\u201d\n\nThe harmony of the adoring myriads rose sweet and solemn upon the air;\nthe sky was a canopy of sapphire; the breeze rich with the evening\nflowers; Jerusalem before me! I felt as if the covering of my mortal\nnature was about to be cast away, and my spirit to go forth on a bright\nand boundless career of fortune.\n\nBut recollections, never to be subdued, saddened my memory of the Temple,\nand when the first influence of the homage passed, I turned from the\nsight of what was to me the eternal monument of the heaviest crime\nof man. I gave one parting glance as day died upon the spires. To my\nsurprise, they were darkened by more than twilight; I glanced again,\nsmoke rolled cloud on cloud over Mount Moriah; the distant roar of battle\nstartled us. Had the enemy anticipated our march, and was Jerusalem about\nto be stormed before our eyes?\n\nWe were not left long to conjecture. Crowds of frightened women and\nchildren were seen flying across the country. The roar swelled again; we\nanswered it by shouts and rushed onward. Unable to ascertain the point\nof attack, I halted the multitude at the entrance of one of the roads\nascending to the great gate of the upper city, and galloped forward with\na few of my people.\n\n[Sidenote: The Change in Jubal]\n\nA horseman rushed from the gate with a heedless rapidity which must have\nflung him into the midst of our ranks or sent him over the precipice.\nHis voice alone enabled me to recognize in this furious rider my kinsman\nJubal. But never had a few months so altered a human being. Instead of\nthe bold and martial figure of the chieftain, I saw an emaciated and\nexhausted man, apparently in the last stage of life or sorrow; the\nflorid cheek was of the color of clay; the flashing eye was sunken;\nthe loud and cheerful voice was sepulchral. I welcomed him with the\nnatural regard of our relationship, but his perturbation was fearful; he\ntrembled, grew fiery red, and could return my greeting only with a feeble\ntongue and a wild eye.\n\nHowever, this was no time for private feelings. I inquired the state of\nthings in Jerusalem. Here his embarrassment was thrown aside and the\nnatural energy of the man found room.\n\n\u201cJerusalem has three curses at this hour,\u201d said he fiercely, \u201cthe\npriests, the people, and the Romans, and the last is the lightest of\nthe three;\u2014the priests bloated with indulgence and mad with love of the\nworld; the people pampered with faction and mad with bigotry; and the\nRomans availing themselves of the madness of each to crush all.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut has the assault been actually made, or is there force enough within\nto repel it?\u201d interrupted I.\n\n\u201cThe assault has been made, and the enemy has driven everything before\nit, so far as has been its pleasure. Why it has not pushed on is\ninconceivable, for our regular troops are good for nothing. I have now\nbeen sent out to raise the villages, but my labor will be useless, for\nsee\u2014the eagles are already on the wall.\u201d\n\nI looked; on the northern quarter of the battlements I saw, through\nsmoke and flame, the accursed standard. Below rose immense bursts of\nconflagration; the whole of the new city, the Bezetha, was on fire. My\nplan was instantly formed. I divided my force into two bodies; gave one\nto Constantius, with orders to enter the city and drive the Romans from\nthe walls; and with the other threaded the ravines toward a position\non the hills. I had to make a long circuit. The Roman camp was pitched\non the ridge of Mount Scopas, seven furlongs from the city. Guided by\nJubal, I gained its rear. My troops, stimulated by the sight of the\nfugitive people, required all my efforts to keep them from rushing on the\ndetachments, which we saw successively hurrying to reenforce the assault.\n\n[Sidenote: Another Success]\n\nNight fell, but the signal for my attack, a fixed number of torches on\nthe tower of the Temple, did not appear. Our troops, ambushed in the\nolive-groves skirting the ridge, had hitherto escaped discovery. At\nlength they grew furious and bore me along with them. As we burst up the\nrugged sides of the hill, like a huge surge before the tempest, I cast\na despairing glance toward the city; the torches at that moment rose.\nHope lived again. The sight added wings to our speed, and before the\nenemy could recover from its astonishment, we were in the center of the\ncamp. Nothing could be more complete than our success. The legionaries,\nsure of the morning\u2019s march into Jerusalem and the plunder of the\nTemple, were caught leaning in crowds over the ramparts, unarmed, and\nmaking absolute holiday. Caius Cestius,[36] their insolent general, was\ncarousing in his tent after the fatigues of the evening. The tribunes\nfollowed his example; the soldiery saw nothing to require their superior\nabstemiousness, and the wine was flowing freely in healths to the next\nday\u2019s rapine, when our roar opened their eyes. To resist was out of the\nquestion. Fifty thousand spearmen, as daring as ever lifted weapon, and\ninflamed with the feelings of their harassed country, were in their\nmidst, and they fled in all directions. I pressed on to the general\u2019s\ntent, but the prize had escaped; he had fled at the first alarm. My\nfollowers indignantly set his quarters on fire; the blaze spread, and the\nflame of the Roman camp rolled up like the flame of a sacrifice to the\ngod of battles.\n\nThe seizure of this position was the ruin of the cohorts, abandoned\nbetween the hill and the city. At the sight of the flames the gates were\nflung open, and Constantius drove the assailants from point to point\nuntil our shouts told him that we were marching upon their rear. The\nshock then was final. The Romans, dispirited and surprised, broke like\nwater, and scarcely a man of them lived to boast of having insulted the\nwalls of Jerusalem.\n\n[Sidenote: A Voice of Wo]\n\nDay arose and the Temple met the rising beam, unstained by the smoke of\nan enemy\u2019s fire. The wreck of the legions lay upon the declivities, like\nthe fragments of a fleet on the shore. But this sight, painful even to\nan enemy, was soon forgotten in the concourse of the rescued citizens,\nthe exultation of the troops, and the still more seducing vanities that\nfilled the heart of their chieftain.\n\nToward noon, a long train of the principal people, headed by the priests\nand elders, was seen issuing from the gates to congratulate me. Choral\nmusic and triumphant shouts announced their approach through the valley.\nMy heart bounded with the feelings of a conqueror. The whole long vista\nof national honors, the popular praise, the personal dignity, the power\nof trampling upon the malignant, the clearance of my character, the right\nto take the future lead on all occasions of public service and princely\nrenown, opened before my eye.\n\nI was standing alone upon the brow of the promontory. As far as the\neye could reach all was in motion, and all was directed to me; the\nhomage of soldiery, priests, and people centered in my single being. I\ninvoluntarily uttered aloud:\n\n\u201cAt last I shall enter Jerusalem in triumph.\u201d\n\nI heard a voice at my side:\n\n\u201cNever shalt thou enter Jerusalem but in sorrow!\u201d\n\nAn indescribable pang smote me. There was not a living soul near me to\nhave uttered the words. The troops were standing at a distance below and\nin perfect silence. The words were spoken close to my ear. But I fatally\nknew the voice, and conjecture was at an end. My limbs felt powerless, as\nif I had been struck by lightning. I called Jubal up the peak to assist\nme. But the blow that smote my frame seemed to have smote his mind. His\neyes rolled wildly; his speech was the language of a fierce disturbance\nof thought, altogether unintelligible. A lunatic stood before me.\n\nWas this to be the foretaste of my own afflictions? Was I to see my\nkindred and friends put under the yoke of bodily and mental misery as a\nmenace of the punishment that was to cut asunder my connection with human\nnature?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\n_Jubal\u2019s Warning_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Views Jerusalem]\n\nIn pain and terror I drew my unfortunate kinsman from the gaze of the\ntroops, and entreated him to tell me by what melancholy chance his\nfeelings had been thus disturbed. He looked at me with a fierce glance,\nand half unsheathed his dagger. But I was not to be repelled, and still\nlabored to soothe him. He hurriedly grasped the weapon, flung it down the\nsteep, and sinking at my feet, burst into tears.\n\nAn uproar in the valley roused me from the contemplation of this wreck of\nyouth and hope. The enemy, tho defeated, had suffered little comparative\nloss. The pride of the legions could not brook the idea of defeat by\nwhat they deemed the rabble of the city and the fields. Cestius, under\ncover of the broken country on our flanks, had rallied the fugitives of\nthe camp, and now, between me and the city, were rapidly advancing in\ncolumns, forty thousand men.\n\nThe maneuver was bold. It might force us either to fight at a ruinous\ndisadvantage, or to leave the city totally exposed. But, like all bold\ngames, it was perilous, and I determined to make the Roman feel that he\nhad an antagonist who would not leave the game at his discretion.\n\nFrom the pinnacle on which I stood, the whole champaign lay beneath me.\nNothing could be lovelier. The grandest combinations of art and nature\nwere before the eye\u2014Jerusalem on her hills, a city of palaces, and in\nthat hour displaying her full pomp; her towers streaming with banners;\nher battlements crowded with troops; her priesthood and citizens in their\nfestal habits pouring from the gates and covering the plain with the\npageant; that plain itself colored with the richest produce of the earth;\ngroves of the olive; declivities, purple with the vine or yellow with\ncorn, gleaming in the sun, sheets of vegetable gold.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Talks to Jubal]\n\nThe signals of my advance parties along the heights soon told me that the\nenemy were in movement. My plan was speedily adopted. On the right spread\nthe plain; on the left lay the broken and hilly country through which\nthe enemy were advancing by its three principal ravines. I felt that, if\nthey could unite, success with our undisciplined levies was desperate.\nThe only hope was that of beating the columns separately as they emerged\ninto the plain. Cavalry had now begun to ride down upon the processions,\nwhich, startled at the sight, were instantly scattered and flying toward\nJerusalem.\n\n\u201cThe day of congratulation is clearly over,\u201d said Jubal, pointing in\nscorn to the dispersed citizens. \u201cTo-day, at least, you will not receive\nthe homage of those hypocrites of the Sanhedrin.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor perhaps to-morrow, fellow soldier, for we must first see of what\nmaterial those columns are made. If we beat them, we shall save the\nelders the trouble of crossing the plain, and receive their honors within\nthe walls.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn Jerusalem!\u201d exclaimed he wildly; \u201cno, never! You have dangers to\nencounter within those walls that no art of man could withstand; dangers\nkeener than the dagger, more deadly than the aspic, more resistless than\nthe force of armies! Enter Jerusalem and you are undone.\u201d\n\nI looked upon him with astonishment. But there was in his eyes a sad\nhumility; a strangely imploring glance, which formed the most singular\ncontrast to the wildness of his words.\n\n\u201cBe warned!\u201d said he, pressing close, as if he dreaded that his secret\nshould be overheard; \u201cI have seen and heard horrid things since I last\nentered the city. Beware of the leaders of Jerusalem! I tell you that\nthey have fearful power, that their hate is inexorable, and that you are\ntheir great object!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is altogether beyond my conception; how have I offended, and whom?\u201d\nI asked.\n\n[Sidenote: False Accusations]\n\nHe seemed to have recovered the tone of his mind. \u201cYou are charged with\nunutterable acts. Your abandonment of the priesthood; sights seen in\nyour deserted chambers, which not even the most daring would venture to\ninhabit; your escape from dangers that must have extinguished any other\nhuman being, have bred fatal rumors. It has been said that you worshiped\nin the bowels of the mountain of Masada, where the magic fire burns\neternally before the image of the Evil One; nay, that you even conquered\nthe fortress, impregnable as it was to man, by a horrid compact, and\nthat the raising of your standard was the declared sign of that compact,\ndreadfully to be repaid by you and yours!\u201d\n\n\u201cMonstrous and incredible calumny! Where was their evidence? My actions\nwere before the face of the world!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf your virtues were written in a sunbeam, envy would darken and hatred\ndestroy,\u201d exclaimed my kinsman, with the bold countenance and manly\nfeeling of his better days. \u201cThey have in their secret councils stained\nyou with a fate more gloomy than I can comprehend; they say that you are\nsentenced, even here, to the miseries of guilt beyond the grave.\u201d\n\nI felt as if he had stricken a lance through my heart. Fiery sparkles\nshot before my eyes. I instinctively put my hand to my brow, to feel\nif the mark of Cain was not already there. I gave one hurried glance\nat heaven, as if to see the form of the destroying angel stooping over\nme. But the consciousness that I was in the presence of the multitude\ncompelled me to master my feelings. I commanded Jubal to be ready with\nhis proofs of those calumnies against the time when I should confound my\naccusers. But I now spoke to the winds. The interval of reason was gone.\nHe burst out into the fiercest horrors.\n\n\u201cThey pursue me!\u201d exclaimed he; \u201cthey come by thousands, with the poniard\nand the poison! They cry for blood! They would drive me to a crime black\nas their own!\u201d\n\nHe flung himself at my feet, and, clasping them, prevented every effort\nto save him from this degradation. He buried his face in my robe, and,\ncasting up a scared look from time to time, as if he shrank from some\nobject of terror, apostrophized his vision.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Arms Jubal]\n\n\u201cFearful being,\u201d he cried, \u201cspare me! turn away those searching eyes! I\nhave sworn to do the deed, and it shall be done. I have sworn it, against\nthe ties of nature, against the laws of Heaven; but it shall be done.\nNow, begone! See!\u201d\u2014he cowered, pointing to a cloud that floated across\nthe sun\u2014\u201csee! he spreads his wings; he hovers over me; the thunders are\nflaming in his hands. Begone, Spirit of Evil! It shall be done! Look,\nwhere he vanishes into the heights of his kingdom! the prince of the\npower of the air.\u201d\n\nThe cloud which fed the fancy of my unfortunate kinsman dissolved, and\nwith it his fear of the tempter. But he lay exhausted at my feet, his\neyes closed, his limbs shuddering\u2014the emblem of weakness and despair. I\ntried to rouse him by that topic which would once have shot new life into\nhis heroic heart.\n\n\u201cRise, Jubal, and see the enemy. This battle must not be fought without\nyou. To-day neither magic nor chance shall be imputed to the conqueror,\nif I shall conquer. Jerusalem sees the battle, and before the face of my\ncountry I will show myself the leader, or will leave the last drop of my\nblood upon those fields.\u201d\n\nThe warrior kindled within him. He sprang from the ground and shot down\nan eagle glance at the enemy, who had now made rapid progress, and\nwere beginning to show the heads of their columns in the plain. He was\nunarmed. I gave him my sword, and the proud humility with which he put it\nto his lips was a pledge to me that it would be honored in his hands.\n\n\u201cGlorious thing!\u201d he exclaimed, as he flashed it before the sun, \u201cthat\nraises man at once to the height of human honors, or sends him where\nno care can disturb his rest; the true scepter that graces empire; the\ntrue talisman, more powerful than all the arts of the enchanter! What,\nlike thee, can lift up the lowly, enrich the destitute, and even restore\nthe undone? What talent, knowledge, gift of nature, nay, what smile of\nfortune can, like thee, in one hour, bid the obscure stand forth the hero\nof a people or the wonder of a world? Now for glory!\u201d he shouted to the\nlistening circle of the troops, who answered him with shouts.\n\n\u201cNow for glory!\u201d they cried, and poured after him down the side of the\nmountain.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018Now for glory!\u2019 they cried.\u201d\n\n [_see page 268._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The Onslaught]\n\nThe three gorges of the valleys through which the enemy moved, opened\ninto the plain at wide intervals from one another. I saw that the\neagerness of Cestius to reach the open ground was already hurrying\nhis columns; and that, from the comparative facilities of the ravine\nimmediately under my position, the nearest column must arrive\nunsupported. The moment came. The helmets and spears were already pouring\nfrom the pass, when a gesture from me let loose the whole human torrent\nupon them. Our advantage of the ground, our numbers, and still more,\nour brave impetuosity, decided the fate of this division at once. The\nlegionaries were not merely repulsed, they were absolutely trampled down;\nthere they lay, as if a mighty wall or a fragment of the mountain had\nfallen upon them.\n\nThe two remaining columns were still to be fought. The compact and broad\nmass of iron that rushed down the ravines seemed irresistible, and when\nI cast a glance on the irregular and waving lines behind me I felt the\nwhole peril of the day. Yet I feared idly. The enemy charged and forced\ntheir way into the very center of the multitude like two vast wedges,\ncrushing all before them. But, tho they could repel, they could not\nconquer. The spirit of the Jew fighting before Jerusalem was more than\nheroism. To extinguish a Roman, tho at the instant loss of life; to\ndisable a single spear, tho by receiving it in his bosom; to encumber\nwith his corpse the steps of the adversary, was reward enough for the man\nof Israel.\n\nI saw crowds of those bold peasants fling themselves on the ground,\ncreep in between the feet of the legionaries, and die stabbing them;\nothers casting away the lance to seize the Roman bucklers and encumber\nthem with the strong grasp of death; crowds mounting the rising grounds,\nto leap down upon the spears. The enemy, overborne with the weight\nof the multitude, at length found it impossible to move farther; yet\ntheir strength was not to be broken. Wherever we turned there was the\nsame solid wall of shields, the same thick fence of leveled lances. We\nmight as well have assaulted a rock. Our arrows rebounded from their\nimpenetrable armor; the stones that poured on them from innumerable\nslings rolled off like the hail of a summer shower from a roof. But to\nhave stopped the columns and prevented their junction was in itself a\ntriumph. I felt that we had scarcely to do more than fix them where they\nstood, and leave the intense heat of the day, thirst, and weariness to\nfight our battle. But my troops were not to be restrained. They still\nrolled in furious heaps against the living fortification. Every broken\nlance in that impenetrable barrier, every pierced helmet, was a trophy;\nthe fall of a single legionary roused a shout of exultation and was the\nsignal for a new charge.\n\nBut the battle was no longer to be left to our unassisted efforts; the\ntroops in Jerusalem moved down with Constantius at their head. In the\nperpetual roar of the conflict, their shouts had escaped my ear, and my\nfirst intelligence of their advance was from Jubal, who had well redeemed\nhis pledge during the day. Hurrying with him to one of the eminences\nthat overlooked the field, I saw with pride and delight the standard of\nNaphtali spreading its red folds at the head of the advancing multitude.\n\n\u201cWho commands them?\u201d asked Jubal eagerly.\n\n\u201cWho should command them, with that banner at their head,\u201d replied I,\n\u201cbut my son, my brave Constantius?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius Arrives]\n\nHe heard no more, but, bending his turban to the saddle-bow, struck the\nspur into his horse, and with a cry of madness plunged into the center\nof the nearest column. The stroke came upon it like a thunderbolt; the\nphalanx wavered for the first time; an opening was made into its ranks.\nThe chasm was filled up by a charge of my hunters. To save or die with\nJubal was the impulse! That charge was never recovered; the column\nloosened, the multitude pressed in upon it, and Constantius arrived, only\nin time to see the remnant of the Roman army flying to the disastrous\nshelter of the hills.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel the Conqueror]\n\nThe day was won\u2014I was a conqueror! The invincible legions were invincible\nno more. I had conquered under the gaze of Jerusalem! Where was the\nenmity that would dare to murmur against me now? What calumny would not\nbe crushed by the force of national gratitude? A flood of absorbing\nsensations filled my soul. No eloquence of man could express the glowing\nand superb consciousness that swelled my heart, in the moment when I saw\nthe Romans shake, and heard the shouts of my army proclaiming me victor.\nAfter that day, I can forgive the boldest extravagance of the boldest\npassion for war. That passion may not be cruelty, nor the thirst of\npossession, nor the longing for supremacy; but something made up of them\nall, and yet superior to all\u2014the essential spirit of the stirring motives\nof the human mind\u2014ambition, kindled by the loftiest objects and ennobled\nby them\u2014a game where the stake is an endless inheritance of renown, a\nsudden lifting of the man into the rank of those on whose names time\ncan make no impression\u2014immortals, without undergoing the penalty of the\ngrave!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\n_The Pursuit of an Enemy_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Field of Battle]\n\nI determined to give the enemy no respite, and ordered the ravines to be\nattacked by fresh troops. While they were advancing, I galloped in search\nof Jubal over the ground of the last charge. He was not to be seen among\nthe living or the dead.\n\nThe look of the field, when the first glow of battle had passed, was\nenough to shake a sterner spirit than mine. Our advance to the gorges\nof the mountain had left the plain naked. The sea of turbans and lances\nwas gone, rolling, like the swell of an angry ocean, against the foot of\nthe hills. All before us was the cliff or the rocky pass, thronged with\nhelmets and spears. But all behind was death or misery worse than death;\nhundreds and thousands groaning in agony, crying out for water to cool\ntheir burning lips, or imploring the sword to put them out of pain. The\nlegionaries lay in their ranks as they had fought; solid piles of men,\nhorses, and arms, the true monuments of soldiership. The veterans of Rome\nhad sustained the honors of her name.\n\nI turned from this sight toward the rescued city. The sun was resting\non its towers; the smoke of the evening sacrifice was ascending in slow\nwreaths from the altar of the sanctuary. The trumpets and voices of the\nminstrels poured a stream of harmony on the cool air. The recollection\nof gentler times came upon my heart. Through what scenes of anxious\nfeeling had I not passed since those gates closed upon me. The contrast\nbetween the holy calm of my early days and the fierce struggles of my\ndoomed existence pressed with bitter force. My spirit shook. The warrior\nenthusiasm was chilled.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel the Soldier]\n\nThe trampling of horses roused me from this unwarlike reverie.\nConstantius came up, glowing to communicate the intelligence that the\nlast of the enemy had been driven in, and that his troops only awaited my\norders to force the passes. I mounted, heard their shouts, and was again\nthe soldier.\n\nBut the iron front of the enemy resisted our boldest attempts to force\nthe ravines,\u2014the hills were not to be turned, and we were compelled,\nafter innumerable efforts, to wait for the movement of the Romans from\na spot which thirst and hunger must soon make untenable. This day had\nstripped them of their baggage, their beasts of burden, and their\nmilitary engines.\n\nAt dawn the pursuit began again. We still found the enemy struggling to\nescape out of those fatal defiles. The day was worn away in perpetual\nattempts to break the ranks of the legionaries. The Jew, light, agile,\nand with nothing to carry but his spear, was a tremendous antagonist to\nthe Roman, perplexed among rocks and torrents, famishing, and encumbered\nwith an oppressive weight of armor. The losses of this day were dreadful.\nOur darts commanded their march from the heights; every stone did\nexecution among ranks whose armor was now scattered by the perpetual\ndischarge. Still they toiled on, unbroken. We saw their long line\nlaboring with patient discipline through the rugged depth below, and in\nthe face of our attacks they made way till night again covered them.\n\nI spent that night on horseback. Fatigue I never felt in the strong\nexcitement of the time. I saw multitudes sink at my horse\u2019s feet, in\nsleep as insensible as the rock on which they lay. Sleep never touched\nmy eyelids. I galloped from post to post, brought reenforcements to my\nwearied ranks, and longed for morn.\n\nIt came at last. The enemy had reached the head of the defile, but there\na force was poured upon them that nothing could resist. Their remaining\ncavalry were driven into the torrent; the few light troops that scaled\nthe higher grounds were swept down. I looked upon their whole army\nas in my hands, and was riding forward with Constantius and my chief\nofficers to receive their surrender, when they were saved by one of those\ninstances of devotedness that distinguished the Roman character.\n\n[Sidenote: The Flight of the Romans]\n\nWearied of pursuit and evasion, I had rejoiced to see at last symptoms of\na determination to wait for us and try the chance of battle. An abrupt\nridge of rock, surmounted by a lofty cone, was the enemy\u2019s position, long\nafter famous in Jewish annals. A line of spearmen was drawn up on the\nridge, and the broken summit of the cone, a space of a few hundred yards,\nwas occupied by a cohort. Italian dexterity was employed to give the idea\nthat Cestius had taken his stand upon this central spot; an eagle and a\nconcourse of officers were exhibited, and upon this spot I directed the\nprincipal attack to be made.\n\nBut the cool bravery of its defenders was not to be shaken. After a long\nwaste of time in efforts to scale the rock, indignant at seeing victory\nretarded by such an obstacle, I left the business to the slingers and\narchers, and ordered a steady discharge to be kept up on the cohort. This\nwas decisive. Every stone and arrow told upon the little force crowded\ntogether on the naked height. Shield and helmet sank one by one under the\nmere weight of missiles. Their circle rapidly diminished, and, refusing\nto surrender, they perished to a man.\n\nWhen we took possession the army was gone. The resistance of the cohort\nhad given the Romans time to escape, and Cestius sheltered his degraded\nlaurels behind the ramparts of Bethhoron, by the sacrifice of four\nhundred heroes.\n\nThis battle, which commenced on the eighth day of the month Marchesvan,\nhad no equal in the war. The loss to the Romans was unparalleled since\nthe defeat of Crassus. Two legions were destroyed; six thousand bodies\nwere left on the field. The whole preparation for the siege of Jerusalem\nfell into our hands. Then was the hour to have struck the final blow\nfor freedom; then was given that chance of restoration which Providence\ngives to every nation and every man. But our crimes, our wild feuds, the\nbigoted fury and polluted license of our factions, rose up as a cloud\nbetween us and the light; we were made to be ruined.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Fall]\n\nSuch were not my reflections when I saw the gates of Bethhoron closing\non the fugitives; I vowed never to rest until I brought prisoners to\nJerusalem the last of the sacrilegious host that had dared to assault the\nTemple.\n\nThe walls of Bethhoron, manned only with the wreck of the troops that we\nhad routed from all their positions, could offer no impediment to hands\nand hearts like ours. I ordered an immediate assault. The resistance was\ndesperate, for beyond this city there was no place of refuge nearer than\nAntipatris. We were twice repulsed, and I headed the third attack myself.\nThe dead filled up the ditch, and I had already arrived at the foot of\nthe rampart, with the scaling-ladder in my hand, when I heard Jubal\u2019s\nvoice behind me. He was leaping and dancing in the attitudes of utter\nmadness. But there was no time to be lost. I sprang upon the battlements,\ntore a standard from its bearer, and waved it over my head with a shout\nof victory. The plain, the hills, the valleys, covered with the host\nrushing to the assault, echoed the cry; I was at the summit of fortune!\n\nIn the next moment I felt a sudden shock. Darkness covered my eyes, and I\nplunged headlong.\n\nI awoke in a dungeon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\n_The Lapse of Years_\n\n\n[Sidenote: In a Dungeon]\n\nIn that dungeon I lay for two years![37] How I lived, or how I bore\nexistence, I can now have no conception. I was not mad, nor altogether\ninsensible to things about me, nor even without occasional inclination\nfor the common objects of our being. I used to look for the glimmer\nof daylight that was suffered to enter my cell. The reflection of the\nmoon in a pool, of which, by climbing to the loophole, I could gain a\nglimpse, was waited for with some feeble feeling of pleasure, but my\nanimal appetites were more fully alive than ever. An hour\u2019s delay of the\nmiserable provision that was thrown through my bars made me wretched. I\ndevoured it like a wild beast, and then longed through the dreary hours\nfor its coming again!\n\nI made no attempt to escape. I dragged myself once to the entrance of\nthe dungeon, found it secured by an iron door, and never tried it again.\nIf every bar had been broken, I scarcely know whether I should have\nattempted to pass it. Even in my more reasoning hours, I felt no desire\nto move. Destiny was upon me. My doom was marked in characters which\nnothing but blindness could fail to read; and to struggle with fate, what\nwas it but to prepare for new misfortune?\n\n[Sidenote: The Prince of Naphtali is Free]\n\nThe memory of my wife and children sometimes broke through the icy\napathy with which I labored to encrust my mind. Tears flowed; nature\nstung my heart; I groaned, and made the vault ring with the cries of\nthe exile from earth and heaven. But this passed away, and I was again\nthe self-divorced man, without a tie to bind him to transitory things.\nI heard the thunder and the winds; the lightnings sometimes startled me\nfrom my savage sleep. But what were they to me! I was dreadfully secure\nfrom the fiercest rage of nature. There were nights when I conceived\nthat I could distinguish the roarings of the ocean, and, shuddering,\nseemed to hear the cries of drowning men. But those, too, passed away. I\nswept remembrance from my mind, and felt a sort of vague enjoyment in the\neffort to defy the last power of evil. Cold, heat, hunger, waking, sleep,\nwere the calendar of my year, the only points in which I was sensible\nof existence; I felt like some of those torpid animals which, buried in\nstones from the creation, live on until the creation shall be no more.\n\nBut this sullenness was only for the waking hour; night had its old,\nimplacable dominion over me; full of vivid misery, crowded with the\nbitter-sweet of memory, I wandered free among those forms in which my\nspirit had found matchless loveliness. Then the cruel caprice of fancy\nwould sting me; in the very concord of enchanting sounds there would come\na funereal voice; in the circle of the happy, I was appalled by some\nhideous visage uttering words of mystery. A spectral form would hang upon\nmy steps and tell me that I was undone.\n\nFrom one of those miserable slumbers I was roused by a voice pronouncing\nmy name. I at first confounded it with the wanderings of sleep. But a\nchilling touch upon my forehead completely aroused me. It was night, yet\nmy eyes, accustomed to darkness, gradually discovered the first intruder\nwho ever stood within my living grave; nothing human could look more\nlike the dead. A breathing skeleton stood before me. The skin clung to\nhis bones; misery was in every feature; the voice was scarcely above a\nwhisper.\n\n\u201cRise,\u201d said this wretched being, \u201cprince of Naphtali, you are free;\nfollow me.\u201d\n\nStrange thoughts were in the words. Was this indeed the universal\nsummoner\u2014the being whom the prosperous dread, but the wretched love? Had\nthe King of Terrors stood before me I could not have gazed on him with\nmore wonder.\n\n\u201cRise,\u201d said the voice impatiently; \u201cwe have but an hour till daybreak,\nand you must escape now or never.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom Foiled]\n\nThe sound of freedom scattered my apathy. The world opened upon my heart;\ncountry, friends, children were in the world, and I started up with the\nfeeling of one to whom life is given on the scaffold.\n\nMy guide hurried forward through the winding way to the door. He stopped;\nI heard him utter a groan, strike fiercely against the bars, and fall. I\nfound him lying at the threshold without speech or motion; carried him\nback, and, by the help of the cruse of water left to moisten my solitary\nmeal, restored him to his senses.\n\n\u201cThe wind,\u201d said he, \u201cmust have closed the door, and we are destined to\ndie together. So be it; with neither of us can the struggle be long.\nFarewell!\u201d\n\nHe flung himself upon his face. A noise of some heavy instrument roused\nus both. He listened, and said: \u201cThere is hope still. The slave who let\nme in is forcing the door.\u201d We rushed to assist him, and tugged and tore\nat the massive stones in which the hinges were fixed, but found our\nutmost strength as ineffectual as an infant\u2019s. The slave now cried out\nthat he must give up the attempt, that day was breaking and the guard\nwas at hand. We implored him to try once more. By a violent effort he\ndrove his crowbar through one of the panels; the gleam of light gave us\ncourage, and with our united strength we heaved at the joints, which were\nevidently loosening. In the midst of our work the slave fled, and I heard\na plunge into the pool beneath.\n\n\u201cHe has perished,\u201d said my companion. \u201cThe door is on the face of a\nprecipice. He has fallen, in the attempt to escape, and we are now\nfinally undone.\u201d\n\nThe guard, disturbed by the noise, arrived, and in the depths of our cell\nwe heard the day spent in making the impassable barrier firmer than ever.\n\nFor some hours my companion lay in that state of exhaustion which I\ncould not distinguish from uneasy slumber, and which I attributed to\nthe fatigue of our common labors. But his groans became so deep that I\nventured to rouse him, and even to cheer him with the chances of escape.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Recognizes Jubal]\n\n\u201cI have not slept,\u201d said he; \u201cI shall never sleep again, until the grave\ngives me that slumber in which the wretched can alone find rest. Escape!\nNo\u2014for months, for years, I have had but one object. I have traversed\nmountain and sea for it; I have given to it day and night, all that I\npossessed in the world; I could give no more but my life, and that too I\nwas to give. I stood within sight of that object. But it is snatched from\nme, and now the sooner I perish the better.\u201d He writhed with mental pain.\n\n\u201cBut what cause can you have for being here? You have not fought our\ntyrants. Who are you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne whom you can never know\u2014a being born to honor and happiness, but who\nperverted them by pride and revenge, and whose last miserable hope is,\nthat he may die unknown, and without the curses that fall on the traitor\nand the murderer. Prince of Naphtali, farewell!\u201d\n\nI knew the speaker in those words of wo. I cried out: \u201cJubal, my friend,\nmy kinsman, my hero! Is it you, then, who have risked your life to save\nme?\u201d\n\nI threw myself beside him. He crept from me. I caught his meager hand; I\nadjured him to live and hope.\n\nHe started away wildly. \u201cTouch me not; I am unfit to live. I\u2014I have been\nyour ruin, and yet He who knows the heart, knows that I alone am not to\nblame. I was a dupe to furious passions, the victim of evil counselors,\nthe prey of disease of mind. On my crimes may Heaven have mercy! They are\nbeyond the forgiveness of man.\u201d\n\nBy the feeble light, which showed scarcely more than the wretchedness\nof my dungeon, I made some little preparations for the refreshment of\nthis feverish and famished being. His story agitated him, and strongly\nawakened as my curiosity was, I forbore all question. But it lay a burden\non his mind, and I suffered him to make his confession.\n\n[Sidenote: Jubal\u2019s Explanation]\n\n\u201cI loved Salome,\u201d said he; \u201cbut I was so secure of acceptance, according\nto the custom of our tribe, that I never conceived the possibility of an\nobstacle to our marriage. My love and my pride were equally hurt. The\nnew distinctions of her husband made my envy bitterness. To change the\nscene, I went to Jerusalem. I there found malice active. Your learning\nand talents had made you obnoxious long before; your new fame and rank\nturned envy into hatred. Onias, whose dagger you turned from the bosom\nof the noble Eleazar, remembered his disgrace. He headed the conspiracy\nagainst you, and nothing but the heroic vigor with which you stirred up\nthe nation could have saved you long since from the last extremities of\nfaction. My unhappy state of mind threw me into his hands. I was inflamed\nagainst you by perpetual calumnies. It was even proposed that I should\naccuse you before the Sanhedrin of dealing with the powers of darkness.\nProofs were offered which my bewildered reason could scarcely resist.\nI was assailed with subtle argument; stimulated by sights and scenes\nof strange import, horrid and mysterious displays, which implicate the\nleaders of Jerusalem deeply in the crime of the idolaters. Spirits, or\nthe semblances of spirits, were raised before my eyes; voices were heard\nin the depths and in the air, denouncing you, even you, as the enemy of\nJudea and of man; I was commanded, in the midst of thunders, real or\nfeigned, to destroy you.\u201d\n\nHere his voice sank, his frame quivered; and wrapping his head in his\ncloak, he remained long silent. To relieve him from his confession, I\nasked for intelligence of my family and of the country.\n\n\u201cOf your family I can tell you nothing,\u201d said he mournfully; \u201cI shrank\nfrom the very mention of their name. During these two years I had but one\npursuit\u2014the discovery of your prison. I refused to hear, to think, of\nother things. I felt that I was dying, and I dreaded to appear before the\ngreat tribunal with the groans from your dungeon rising up to stifle my\nprayers.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut is our country still torn by the Roman wolves?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe whole land is in tumult.[38] Blood and horror are under every roof\nfrom Lebanon to Idumea. The Roman sword is out, and it falls with cruel\nhavoc; but the Jewish dagger pays it home, and the legions quail before\nthe naked valor of the peasantry. Yet what is valor or patriotism to us\nnow? We are in our grave!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Another Chance of Escape]\n\nThe thought of my family exposed to the miseries of a ferocious war only\nkindled my eagerness to escape from this den of oblivion. It was evening,\nand the melancholy moon threw the old feeble gleam on the water which\nhad so long been to me the only mirror of her countenance. I suddenly\nobserved the light darkened by a figure stealing along the edge of the\npool. It approached, and the words were whispered: \u201cIt is impossible to\nbreak open the door from without while the guard is on the watch; but try\nwhether it can not be opened from within.\u201d A crowbar was pushed into the\nloophole; its bearer, the slave, who had escaped by swimming, jumped down\nand was gone.\n\nI left Jubal where he lay, lingered at the door till all external sounds\nceased, and then made my desperate attempt. I was wasted by confinement,\nbut the mind is force. I labored with furious effort at the mass of bolt\nand bar, and at length felt it begin to give way. I saw a star, the first\nfor two long years, twinkling through the fracture. Another hour\u2019s labor\nunfixed the huge hinge, and I felt the night air, cool and fragrant, on\nmy cheek. I now grasped the last bar, and was in the act of forcing it\nfrom the wall when the thought of Jubal struck me. There was a struggle\nof a moment in my mind. To linger now might be to give the guard time to\nintercept me. I was hungering for liberty. It was to me at that moment\nwhat water in the desert is to the dying caravan\u2014the sole assuaging of a\nfrantic thirst, of a fiery and consuming fever of the soul. If the grains\nof dust under my feet were diamonds, I would have given them to feel\nmyself treading the dewy grass that lay waving on the hillside before me.\n\nA tall shadow passed along. It was that of a mountain shepherd, spear in\nhand, guarding his flock from the wolves. He stopped at a short distance\nfrom the dungeon, and, gazing on the moon, broke out with a rude but\nsweet voice into song. The melody was wild, a lamentation over the fallen\nglories of Judea, \u201cwhose sun was set, and whose remaining light, sad\nand holy as the beauty of the moon, must soon decay.\u201d The word freedom\nmingled in the song, and every note of that solemn strain vibrated to my\nheart. The shepherd passed along.\n\n[Sidenote: The Ridicule of the Guard]\n\nI tore down the bar and gazed upon the glorious face of heaven. My feet\nwere upon the free ground! I returned hastily to the cell and told Jubal\nthe glad tidings, but he heard me not. To abandon him there was to give\nhim up to inevitable death, either by the swords of the guard or by the\nless merciful infliction of famine. I carried him on my shoulders to the\nentrance. A roar of ridicule broke on me at the threshold. The guard\nstood drawn up in front of the dilapidated door; and the sight of the\nprisoner entrapped in the very crisis of escape was the true food for\nruffian mirth. Staggering under my burden, I yet burst forward, but was\nreceived in a circle of leveled spears. Resistance was now desperate; yet\neven when sunk upon the ground under my burden, I attempted to resist or\ngather their points in my bosom and perish. But my feeble efforts only\nraised new scoffing. I was unworthy of Roman steel, and the guard, after\namusing themselves with my impotent rage, dragged me within the passage,\nplaced Jubal, who neither spoke nor moved, beside me, blocked up the\ndoor, and wished me \u201cbetter success the next time.\u201d\n\nI spent the remainder of that night in fierce agitation. The apathy, the\nprotecting scorn of external things, that I had nurtured, as other men\nwould nurture happiness, was gone. The glimpse of the sky haunted me; a\nhundred times in the night I thought that I was treading on the grass;\nthat I felt its refreshing moisture; that the air was breathing balm on\nmy cheek; that the shepherd\u2019s song was still echoing in my ears, and that\nI saw him pointing to a new way of escape from my inextricable dungeon.\n\n[Sidenote: The Labyrinth]\n\nIn one of those half-dreams I flung the crowbar from my hand. A sound\nfollowed, like the fall of stones into water. The sound continued. Still\nstranger echoes followed, which my bewildered fancy turned into all\nsimilitudes of earth and ocean\u2014the march of troops, the distant roar\nof thunder, the dashing of billows, the clamor of battle, boisterous\nmirth, and the groaning and heaving of masts and rigging in storm. The\ndungeon was as dark as death, and I felt my way toward the sound. To\nmy surprise, the accidental blow of the bar had loosened a part of the\nwall and made an orifice large enough to admit the human body. The pale\nlight of morning showed a cavern beyond, narrow and rugged. It branched\ninto a variety of passages, some of them fit for nothing but the fox\u2019s\nburrow. I returned to the lair of my unhappy companion, and prevailed on\nhim to follow only by the declaration that if he refused I must perish\nby his side. My scanty provisions were gathered up. I led the way, and,\ndetermined never to return to the place of my misery, we set forward to\ntempt in utter darkness the last chances of famine\u2014pilgrims of the tomb.\n\nWe wandered through a fearful labyrinth for a period which utterly\nexhausted us. Of night and day we had no knowledge. I was sinking, when\na low groan struck my ear. I listened pantingly; it came again. It was\nevidently from some object close beside me. I put forth my hand and\npushed in the door of a large cavern; a flash of light illumined the\npassage. Another step would have plunged us into a pool a thousand feet\nbelow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\n_Death in a Cavern_\n\n\n[Sidenote: An Ocean Temple]\n\nThe cavern thus opened to us[39] seemed to be the magazine of some place\nof trade. It was crowded with chests and bales, heaped together in\ndisorder. What dangerous owners we might meet cost us no question; life\nand liberty were before us. I cheered Jubal till his scattered senses\nreturned, and he clasped my feet in humiliation and gratitude.\n\nWe were now like men created anew. We forced our way through piles that\nbut an hour before would have been mountains to our despairing strength.\nThe cavern opened into another, which seemed the dwelling of some master\nof extraordinary opulence. Silken tissues hung on the walls; the ceiling\nwas a Tyrian canopy; precious vases stood on tables of citron and ivory.\nA large lyre, superbly ornamented, was suspended in an opening of the\nrock, and gave its melancholy music to the wind. But no human being was\nto be seen. Was this one of the true wonders that men classed among the\nfictions of Greece and Asia? The Nereids with their queen could not have\nsought a more secluded palace. Onward we heard the sounds of ocean. We\nfollowed them, and saw one of those scenes of grandeur which nature\ncreates, as if to show the littleness of man.\n\nAn arch three times the height of the loftiest temple, and ribbed with\nmarble, rose broadly over our heads. Innumerable shafts of the purest\nalabaster, rounded with the perfection of sculpture, rose in groups and\nclusters to the solemn roof; wildflowers and climbing plants of every\nscent and hue gathered round the capitals, and hung the gigantic sides\nof the hall with a lovelier decoration than ever was wrought in loom.\nThe awful beauty of this ocean temple bowed the heart in instinctive\nhomage. I felt the sacredness of nature. But this grandeur was alone\nworthy of the spectacle to which it opened. The whole magnificence of the\nMediterranean spread before our eyes, smooth as polished silver and now\nreflecting the glories of the west. The sun lay on the horizon in the\nmidst of crimson clouds, like a monarch on the funeral pile, sinking in\nthe splendors of a conflagration that lighted earth and ocean.\n\n[Sidenote: On the Edge of the Cavern]\n\nBut at this noble portal we had reached our limit. The sides of the\ncavern projected so far into the waters as to make a small anchorage.\nAccess or escape by land was palpably impossible. Yet, here at least, we\nwere masters. No claimant presented himself to dispute our title. The\nprovisions of our unknown host were ample, and, to our eager tastes, were\ndangerous from their luxury. The evening that we passed at the mouth of\nthe cave, exhilarated with the first sensation of liberty, and enjoying\nevery aspect and voice of the lovely scene with the keenness of the most\nunhoped-for novelty, was a full recompense for the toils and terrors of\nthe labyrinth.\n\nThe sun went down. The surge that died at our feet murmured peace; the\nwheeling sea-birds, as their long trains steered homeward, pouring out\nfrom time to time a clangor of wild sounds that descended to us in\nharmony; the little white-sailed vessels, that skimmed along the distant\nwaters like summer flies; the breeze waving the ivy and arbutus, that\nfestooned our banquet-hall, alike spoke to the heart the language of\npeace.\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d said I, \u201cmy death-bed were to be left to my own choice, on the edge\nof this cavern would I wish to take my last farewell.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo the dying all places must be indifferent,\u201d replied my companion;\n\u201cwhen Death is at hand, his shadow fills the mind. What matters it to the\nexile, who in a few moments must leave his country forever, on what spot\nof its shore his last step is planted? Perhaps the lovelier that spot the\nmore painful the parting. If I must have my choice, let me die in the\ndungeon or in battle: in the chain that makes me hate the earth, or in\nthe struggle that makes it forgotten.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said I, \u201ceven for battle, if we would acquit ourselves as becomes\nmen, is not some previous rest almost essential? and for the sterner\nconflict with that mighty enemy before whom our strength is vapor, is\nit not well to prepare the whole means of mental fortitude? I would\nnot perish in the irritation of the dungeon, in the blind fury of man\nagainst man, nor in the hot and giddy whirl of human cares. Let me lay my\nsinking frame where nothing shall intrude upon the nobler business of the\nmind. But these are melancholy thoughts. Come, Jubal, fill to the speedy\ndeliverance of our country.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Jubal\u2019s Remorse]\n\n\u201cHere, then, to her speedy deliverance, and the glory of those who fight\nher battles!\u201d The cup was filled to the brim, but just as the wine\ntouched his lips he flung it away. \u201cNo,\u201d exclaimed he, in bitterness of\nsoul, \u201cit is not for such as I to join in the aspirations of the patriot\nand the soldier. Prince of Naphtali, your generous nature has forgiven\nme, but there is an accuser here\u201d\u2014and he struck his withered hand wildly\nupon his bosom\u2014\u201cthat can never be silenced. Under the delusions, the\ninfernal delusions of your enemies, I followed you through a long period\nof your career, unseen. Every act, almost every thought, was made known\nto me, for you were surrounded by the agents of your enemies. I was\ndriven on by the belief that you were utterly accursed by our law, and\nthat to drive the dagger to your heart was to redeem our cause. But the\nact was against my nature, and in the struggle my reason failed. When I\nstood before you on the morning of the great battle, you saw me in one of\nthose fits of frenzy that always followed a new command to murder. The\nmisery of seeing Salome\u2019s husband once more triumphant finally plunged me\ninto the Roman ranks to seek for death. I escaped, followed the army, and\nreached Bethhoron in the midst of the assault. Still frantic, I thought\nthat in you I saw my rival victorious. It was this hand, this parricidal\nhand, that struck the blow.\u201d He covered his face and wept convulsively.\n\nThe mystery of my captivity was now cleared up, and feeling only pity for\nthe ruin that remorse had made, I succeeded at last in restoring him to\nsome degree of calmness. I even ventured to cheer him with the hope of\nbetter days, when in the palace of his fathers I should acknowledge my\ndeliverer.\n\nWith a pressure of the hand and a melancholy smile, \u201cI know,\u201d said he,\n\u201cthat I have not long to live. But if a prayer of mine is to be answered\nby that greatest of all Powers whom I have so deeply offended, it would\nbe, to die in some act of service for my prince and my pardoner! But\nhark!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Dying Man]\n\nA groan was uttered close to the spot where we sat. I perceived for the\nfirst time an opening behind some furniture; entered, and saw lying on a\nbed a man apparently in the last stage of exhaustion.\n\nHe exclaimed: \u201cThree days of misery\u2014three days left alone, to die\u2014without\nfood, without help, abandoned by all. But I have deserved it. Traitor and\nvillain as I am, I have deserved a thousand deaths!\u201d\n\nI looked upon this outcry as but the raving of pain, and brought him some\nwine. He swallowed it with avidity, but even while I held the cup to his\nlips, he sank back with a cry of horror.\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d cried he, \u201cI knew that I could not escape you; you have come at\nlast. Spirit, leave me to die! Or if,\u201d said he, half rising and looking\nin my face with a steady yet dim glare, \u201cyou can tell the secrets of the\ngrave, tell me what is my fate. I adjure you, fearful being, by the God\nof Israel; by the gods of the pagan, or if you acknowledge any god beyond\nthe dreams of miserable man, tell me what I am to be?\u201d\n\nI continued silent, struck with the agony of his features. Jubal entered,\nand the looks of the dying man were turned on him.\n\n\u201cMore of them!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cmore tormentors! more terrible witnesses\nof the tortures of a wretch whom earth casts out! What I demand of you is\nthe fate of those who live as I have lived\u2014the betrayer, the plunderer,\nthe man of blood? But you will give me no answer. The time of your power\nis not come.\u201d\n\nHe lay for a short period in mental sufferings; then, starting upon his\nfeet by an extraordinary effort of nature, and with furious execrations\nat the tardiness of death, he tore off the bandage which covered a wound\non his forehead. The blood streamed down and made him a ghastly spectacle.\n\n[Sidenote: Conscience-Stricken]\n\n\u201cAye,\u201d cried he, as he looked upon his stained hands, \u201cthis is the true\ncolor; the traitor\u2019s blood should cover the traitor\u2019s hands. Years of\ncrime, this is your reward. The betrayal of my noble master to death,\nthe ruin of his house, the destruction of his name; these were the right\nbeginnings to the life of the robber.\u201d\n\nA peal of thunder rolled over our heads and the gush of the rising waves\nroared through the cavern.\n\n\u201cAye, there is your army,\u201d he cried, \u201ccoming in the storm. I have seen\nyour angry visages at night in the burning village; I have seen you in\nthe shipwreck; I have seen you in the howling wilderness; but now I see\nyou in shapes more terrible than all.\u201d\n\nThe wind bursting through the long vaults forced open the door.\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome to your prey!\u201d he yelled, and drawing a knife from his\nsash, darted it into his bosom. The act was so instantaneous that to\narrest the blow was impossible. He fell and died with a brief, fierce\nstruggle.\n\n\u201cHorrible end,\u201d murmured Jubal, gazing on the silent form; \u201chappier for\nthat wretch to have perished in the hottest strife of man or nature,\ntrampled in the charge or plunged into the billows! Save me from the\nmisery of lonely death!\u201d\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said I, \u201cit was our presence that made him feel. He was guilty\nof some crime, perhaps of many, that the sight of us awoke to torment\nhis dying hour. I saw that he gazed upon me with evident alarm, and not\nimprobably my withered face, and those rags of my dungeon, startled him\ninto recollections too strong for his decaying reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you ever seen him before?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever.\u201d\n\nI gave a reluctant look at the hideous distortion of a countenance still\nfull of the final agony. I turned away in awe.\n\n\u201cNow, Jubal, to think of ourselves. Soon we shall have fairly tried our\nexperiment. A few days must exhaust our provisions. The surges roll on\nthe one hand; on the other we have the rock.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we shall die at least in pomp,\u201d said Jubal. \u201cNo king of Asia will\nlie in a nobler vault, nor even have sincerer rejoicings at his end; the\ncrows and vultures are no hypocrites.\u201d\n\nThe dead man\u2019s turban had fallen off in his last violence, and\nI perceived the corner of a letter in its folds. I read it; its\nintelligence startled me. It was from the commandant of the Roman fleet\non the coast mentioning that a squadron was in readiness to \u201cattack the\npirates in their cavern.\u201d\n\nA heavy sound, as if something of immense weight had rushed into the\nentrance of the arch, followed by many voices, stopped our conversation.\n\n\u201cThe Romans have come,\u201d said I, \u201cand now you will be indulged with your\nwish\u2014our lives are forfeited\u2014for never will I go back to the dungeon.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Arrival of Pirates]\n\n\u201cI hear no sound but that of laughter,\u201d said Jubal, listening; \u201cthose\ninvaders are the merriest of cutthroats. But before we give ourselves\nactually into their hands, let us see of what they are made.\u201d\n\nWe left the chamber and returned to the recess from which we had\noriginally emerged. It commanded a view of the chief avenues of the\ncavern; and while I secured the door, Jubal mounted the wall, and\nreconnoitered the enemy through a fissure.\n\n\u201cThese are no Romans,\u201d whispered he, \u201cbut a set of the most jovial\nfellows that ever robbed on the seas. They have clearly been driven in by\nthe storm, and are now preparing to feast. Their voyage has been lucky,\nif I am to judge by the bales that they are hauling in; and if wine can\ndo it, they will be in an hour or two drunk to the last man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we can take advantage of their sleep, let loose one of their boats,\nand away,\u201d said I.\n\n[Sidenote: Plunderers]\n\nI mounted to see this pirate festivity. In the various vistas of the\nhuge cavern groups of bold-faced and athletic men were gathering, all\nbusy with the work of the time; some piling fires against the walls and\npreparing provisions; some stripping off their wet garments and bringing\nothers out of heaps of every kind and color, in the recesses of the rock;\nsome wiping the spray from rusty helmets and corselets. The vaults rang\nwith songs, boisterous laughter, the rattling of armor, and the creaking\nand rolling of chests of plunder. The dashing of the sea under the\ngale filled up this animated dissonance; and at intervals the thunder,\nbursting directly above our heads, mingled with all and overpowered all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\n_A Pirate Band_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Pirate Feast]\n\nThe chamber whose costly equipment first told us of the opulence of its\nmasters was set apart for the chief rovers, who were soon seated at a\nlarge table in its center, covered with luxury. Flagons of wine were\nbrought from cellars known only to the initiated; fruits piled in silver\nbaskets blushed along the board; plate of the richest workmanship, the\nplunder of palaces, glittered in every form; tripods loaded with aromatic\nwood threw a blaze up to the roof; and from the central arch hung a\nsuperb Greek lamp, shooting out light from a hundred mouths of serpents\ntwined in all possible ways. The party before me were about thirty[40] as\nfierce-looking figures as ever toiled through tempest; some splendidly\nattired, some in the rough costume of the deck; but all jovial, and\nevidently determined to make the most of their time. Other men had paid\nfor the banquet, and there was probably not a vase on their table that\nwas not the purchase of personal hazard. They sat, conquerors, in the\nmidst of their own trophies; and not the most self-indulgent son of\nopulence could have luxuriated more in his wealth, nor the most exquisite\nstudent of epicurism have discussed his luxuries with more finished\nand fastidious science. Lounging on couches covered with embroidered\ndraperies, too costly for all but princes, they lectured the cooks\nwithout mercy: the venison, pheasants, sturgeon, and a multitude of other\ndishes were in succession pronounced utterly unfit to be touched, and\nthe wine was tasted, and often dismissed, with the caprice of palates\nrefined to the highest point of delicacy. Yet the sea air was not to be\ntrifled with, and a succession of courses appeared, and were despatched\nwith a diligence that prohibited all language beyond the pithy phrases of\ndelight or disappointment.\n\n[Sidenote: Wine-Tasters]\n\nThe wine at length set the conversation flowing, and from the merits of\nthe various vintages the speakers diverged into the general subjects\nof politics and their profession; on the former of which they visited\nall parties with tolerably equal ridicule; and on the latter, declared\nunanimously that the only cause worthy of a man of sense was the cause\nfor which they were assembled round that table. The next stage was the\nmore hazardous one of personal jocularity; yet even this was got over\nwith but a few murmurs from the parties suffering. Songs and toasts\nto themselves, their loves, and their enterprises in all time to come\nrelieved the drier topics; and all was good fellowship until one unlucky\ngoblet of spoiled wine soured the banquet.\n\n\u201cSo, this you call Chian,\u201d exclaimed a broad-built figure, whose yellow\nhair and blue eyes showed him to be a son of the North; \u201cmay I be\npoisoned,\u201d and he made a hideous grimace, \u201cif more detestable vinegar\never was brewed; let me but meet the merchant, and I shall teach him a\nlesson that he will remember when next he thinks of murdering men at\ntheir meals. Here, baboon, take it; it is fit only for such as you.\u201d\n\nHe flung the goblet point-blank at the head of a negro, who escaped it\nonly by bounding to one side with the agility of the ape that he much\nresembled.\n\n\u201cBad news, Vladomir, for our winter\u2019s stock, for half of it is Chian,\u201d\nsaid a dark-featured and brilliant-eyed Arab, who sat at the head of\nthe table. \u201cHo! Syphax, fill round from that flagon, and let us hold a\ncouncil of war upon the delinquent wine.\u201d\n\nThe slave dexterously changed the wine; it was poured round, pronounced\nfirst-rate, and the German was laughed at remorselessly.\n\n\u201cI suppose I am not to believe my own senses,\u201d remonstrated Vladomir.\n\n\u201cOh! by all means, as long as you keep them,\u201d said one, laughing.\n\n\u201cWill you tell me that I don\u2019t know the difference between wine and that\npoison?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Dispute]\n\n\u201cNeither you nor any man, friend Vladomir, can know much upon the\nsubject after his second dozen of goblets,\u201d sneered another at the\nGerman\u2019s national propensity.\n\n\u201cYou do him injustice,\u201d said a subtle-visaged Chiote at the opposite side\nof the table. \u201cHe is as much in his senses this moment as ever he was.\nThere are brains of that happy constitution which defy alike reason and\nwine.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I shall say no more,\u201d murmured the German sullenly, \u201cthan confound\nthe spot on which that wine grew, wherever it lies; the hungriest\nvineyard on the Rhine would be ashamed to show its equal. By Woden, the\nvery taste will go with me to my grave.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps it may,\u201d said the Chiote, irritated for the honor of his\ncountry, and significantly touching his dagger. \u201cBut were you ever in the\nisland?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; nor ever shall, with my own consent, if that flagon be from it,\u201d\ngrowled the German, with his broad eye glaring on his adversary. \u201cI have\nseen enough of its produce, alive and dead to-night.\u201d\n\nThe wind roared without, and a tremendous thunder-peal checked the angry\ndialog. There was a general pause.\n\n\u201cCome, comrades, no quarreling,\u201d cried the Arab. \u201cHeavens, how the storm\ncomes on! Nothing can ride out to-night. Here\u2019s the captain\u2019s health, and\nsafe home to him.\u201d\n\nThe cups were filled; but the disputants were not to be so easily\nreconciled.\n\n\u201cHo! Memnon,\u201d cried the master of the table to a sallow Egyptian richly\nclothed, whose simitar and dagger sparkled with jewels. He was engaged in\nclose council with the rover at his side. \u201cLay by business now; you don\u2019t\nlike the wine or the toast?\u201d\n\nThe Egyptian, startled from his conference, professed his perfect\nadmiration of both, and sipping, returned to his whisper.\n\n\u201cMemnon will not drink for fear of letting out his secrets; for instance,\nwhere he found that simitar, or what has become of the owner,\u201d said a\nyoung and handsome Idumean with a smile.\n\n[Sidenote: The Egyptian Questioned]\n\n\u201cI should like to know by what authority you ask me questions on the\nsubject. If it had been in your hands, I should have never thought any\nnecessary,\u201d retorted the scowling Egyptian.\n\n\u201cAye, of course not, Memnon; my way is well known. Fight rather than\nsteal; plunder rather than cheat; and, after the affair is over, account\nto captain and crew, rather than glitter in their property,\u201d was the\nIdumean\u2019s answer, with a glow of indignation reddening his striking\nfeatures.\n\n\u201cBy the by,\u201d said the Arab, in whose eye the gems flashed temptingly,\n\u201cI think Memnon is always under a lucky star. We come home in rags, but\nhe regularly returns the better for his trip; Ptolemy himself has not a\nmore exquisite tailor. All depends, however, upon a man\u2019s knowledge of\nnavigation in this world.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd friend Memnon knows every point of it but plain sailing,\u201d said the\ncontemptuous Idumean.\n\nThe Egyptian\u2019s sallow skin grew livid. \u201cI may be coward, or liar, or\npilferer,\u201d exclaimed he; \u201cbut if I were the whole three, I could stand no\nchance of being distinguished in the present company.\u201d\n\n\u201cInsult to the whole profession,\u201d laughingly exclaimed the Arab. \u201cAnd\nnow I insist, in the general name, on your giving a plain account of the\nproceeds of your last cruise. You can be at no loss for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; for he has it by his side, and in the most brilliant arithmetic,\u201d\nsaid Hanno, a satirical-visaged son of Carthage.\n\n\u201cI must hear no more on the subject,\u201d bitterly pronounced the Egyptian.\n\u201cThose diamonds belong to neither captain nor crew. I purchased them\nfairly, and the seller was, I will undertake to say, the better off of\nthe two.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; I will undertake to say,\u201d laughed the Idumean, \u201cthat you left him\nthe happiest dog in existence. It is care that makes man miserable, and\nthe less we have to care for the happier we are. I have not a doubt you\nleft the fellow at the summit of earthly rapture!\u201d\n\n\u201cAye!\u201d added the Arab, \u201cwithout a sorrow or a shekel in the world.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Quarrel Over Wine]\n\nBoisterous mirth followed the Egyptian, as he started from his couch and\nleft the hall, casting fierce looks in his retreat, like Parthian arrows,\non the carousal. The German had, in the mean time, fallen back in a doze,\nfrom which he was disturbed by the slave\u2019s refilling his goblet.\n\n\u201cAye, that tastes like wine,\u201d said he, glancing at the Greek, who had by\nno means forgotten the controversy.\n\n\u201cTaste what it may, it is the very same wine that you railed at half an\nhour ago,\u201d returned the Chiote; \u201cthe truth is, my good Vladomir, that the\nwine of Greece is like its language; both are exquisite and unrivaled to\nthose who understand them. But Nature wisely adapts tastes to men, and\nmen to tastes. I am not at all surprised that north of the Danube they\nprefer beer.\u201d\n\nThe German had nothing to give back for the taunt but the frown that\ngathered on his black brow.\n\nThe Chiote pursued his triumph, and with a languid, lover-like gaze on\nthe wine, which sparkled in purple radiance to the brim of its enameled\ncup, he apostrophized the produce of his fine country.\n\n\u201cDelicious grape!\u2014essence of the sunshine and of the dew!\u2014what vales\nbut the vales of Chios could have produced thee? What tint of heaven is\nbrighter than thy hue? What fragrance of earth richer than thy perfume?\u201d\n\nHe lightly sipped a few drops from the edge, like a libation to the deity\nof taste.\n\n\u201cExquisite draft!\u201d breathed he; \u201cunequaled but by the rosy lip and\nmelting sigh of beauty! Well spoke the proverb: \u2018Chios, whose wines steal\nevery head, and whose women, every heart.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget the rest,\u201d gladly interrupted the German\u2014\u201cand whose men steal\neverything.\u201d\n\nA general laugh followed the retort, such as it was.\n\n\u201cScythian!\u201d said the Greek across the table, in a voice made low by rage,\nand preparing to strike.\n\n\u201cLiar!\u201d roared the German, sweeping a blow of his falchion, which the\nChiote escaped only by flinging himself on the ground. The blow fell on\nthe table, where it caused wide devastation. All now started up; swords\nwere out on every side, and nothing but forcing the antagonists to their\ncells prevented the last perils of a difference of palate. The storm\nbellowed deeper and deeper.\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain]\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s to the luck that sent us back before this north-wester thought of\nstirring abroad,\u201d said the Arab. \u201cI wish our noble captain were among us\nnow. Where was he last seen?\u201d\n\n\u201cSteering westward, off and on Rhodes, looking out for the galley that\ncarried the procurator\u2019s plate. But this wind must send him in before\nmorning,\u201d was the answer of Hanno.\n\n\u201cOr send him to the bottom, where many as bold a fellow has gone before\nhim,\u201d whispered a tall, haggard-looking Italian to the answerer.\n\n\u201cThat would be good news for one of us at least,\u201d said Hanno. \u201cYou would\nhave no reckoning to settle. Your crew made a handsome affair of the\nAlexandrian prize, and the captain might be looking for returns, friend\nTertullus.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let him look to himself. His time may be nearer than he thinks. His\nhaughtiness to men as good as himself may provoke justice before long,\u201d\ngrowled the Italian, in memory of some late discipline.\n\nHanno laughed loudly.\n\n\u201cJustice!\u2014is the man mad? The very sound is high treason in our gallant\ncompany. Why, comrade, if justice ever ventured here, where would some of\nus have been these last six months?\u201d\n\nThe sound caught the general ear; the allusion was understood, and the\nItalian was displeased.\n\n\u201cI hate to be remarkable,\u201d said he; \u201cwith the honest it may be proper to\nbe honest; but beside you, my facetious Hanno, a man should cultivate a\nlittle of the opposite school in mere compliment to his friend. You had\nno scruples when you hanged the merchant the other day.\u201d\n\nA murmur arose in the hall.\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosophy of Robbers]\n\n\u201cComrades,\u201d said Hanno, with the air of an orator, \u201chear me too on that\nsubject: three words will settle the question to men of sense. The\nmerchant was a regular trader. Will any man who knows the world, and\nhas brains an atom clearer than those with which fate has gifted my\nvirtuous friend, believe that I, a regular liver by the merchant, would\nextinguish that by which I live? Sensible physicians never kill a patient\nwhile he can pay; sensible kings never exterminate a province when it can\nproduce anything in the shape of a tax; sensible women never pray for the\nextinction of our sex until they despair of getting husbands; sensible\nhusbands never wish their wives out of the world while they can get\nanything by their living: so, sensible men of our profession will never\nput a merchant under water until they can make nothing by his remaining\nabove it. I have, for instance, raised contributions on that same trader\nevery summer these five years; and, by the blessing of fortune, hope to\nhave the same thing to say for five times as many years to come. No, I\nwould not see any man touch a hair of his head. In six months he will\nhave a cargo again, and I shall meet him with as much pleasure as ever.\u201d\n\nThe Carthaginian was highly applauded.\n\n\u201cMalek, you don\u2019t drink,\u201d cried the Arab to a gigantic Ethiopian toward\nthe end of the table. \u201cHere, I pledge you in the very wine that was\nmarked for the Emperor\u2019s cellar.\u201d\n\nMalek tasted it, and sent back a cup in return.\n\n\u201cThe Emperor\u2019s wine may be good enough for him,\u201d was the message; \u201cbut I\nprefer the wine yonder, marked for the Emperor\u2019s butler.\u201d\n\nThe verdict was fully in favor of the Ethiopian.\n\n\u201cIn all matters of this kind,\u201d said Malek, with an air of supreme taste,\n\u201cI look first to the stores of the regular professors\u2014the science of\nlife is in the masters of the kitchen and the cellar. Your emperors and\nprocurators, of course, must be content with what they can get. But the\nman who wishes to have the first-rate wine should be on good terms with\nthe butler. I caught this sample on my last voyage after the imperial\nfleet. Nero never had such wine on his table.\u201d\n\nHe indulged himself in a long draft of this exclusive luxury, and sank on\nhis couch, with his hand clasping the superbly embossed flagon\u2014a part of\nhis prize.\n\n[Sidenote: The Ethiopian\u2019s Taint]\n\n\u201cThe black churl,\u201d said a little shriveled Syrian, \u201cnever shares; he\nkeeps his wine as he keeps his money.\u201d\n\n\u201cAye, he keeps everything but his character,\u201d whispered Hanno.\n\n\u201cThere you wrong him,\u201d observed the Syrian; \u201cno man keeps his character\nmore steadily. By Beelzebub! it is like his skin; neither will be blacker\nthe longest day he has to live.\u201d\n\nA roar of laughter rose round the hall.\n\n\u201cBlack or not black,\u201d exclaimed the Ethiopian, with a sullen grin, that\nshowed his teeth like the fangs of a wild beast, \u201cmy blood\u2019s as red as\nyours.\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly,\u201d retorted the little Syrian; \u201cbut as I must take your word\non the subject till I shall have seen a drop of it spilt in fair fight,\nI only hope I may live and be happy till then; and I can not put up a\nbetter prayer for a merry old age.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no chance of your ever seeing it,\u201d growled the Ethiopian; \u201cyou\nlove the baggage and the hold too well to leave them to accident, be the\nfight fair or foul.\u201d\n\nThe laugh was easily raised, and it was turned against the Syrian, who\nstarted up and declaimed with a fury of gesture that made the ridicule\nstill louder.\n\n\u201cI appeal to all,\u201d cried the fiery orator; \u201cI appeal to every man of\nhonor among us, whether by night or day, on land or water, I have ever\nbeen backward.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever at an escape,\u201d interrupted the Ethiopian.\n\n\u201cWhether I have ever broken faith with the band?\u201d\n\n\u201cLikely enough; where nobody trusts, we may defy treason.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhether my character and services are not known and valued by our\ncaptain?\u201d still louder exclaimed the irritated Syrian.\n\n\u201cAye, just as little as they deserve.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Appearance of Salathiel]\n\n\u201cSilence, brute!\u201d screamed the diminutive adversary, casting his keen\neyes, that doubly blazed with rage, on the Ethiopian, who still lay\nembracing the flagon at his ease. \u201cWith heroes of your complexion I\ndisdain all contest. If I must fight, it shall be with human beings; not\nwith savages\u2014not with monsters.\u201d\n\nThe Ethiopian\u2019s black cheek absolutely grew red; this taunt was the\nsting. At one prodigious bound he sprang across the table, and darted\nupon the Syrian\u2019s throat with the roar and the fury of a tiger. All was\ninstant confusion; lamps, flagons, fruits, were trampled on; the table\nwas overthrown; swords and poniards flashed in all hands. The little\nSyrian yelled, strangling in the grasp of the black giant, and it was\nwith the utmost difficulty that he could be rescued. The Arab, a fine\nathletic fellow, achieved this object, and bade him run for his life\u2014a\ncommand with which he complied unhesitatingly, followed by a cheer from\nHanno, who swore that if all trades failed, he would make his fortune by\nhis heels at the Olympic games.\n\nOur share in the scene was come. The fugitive, naturally bold enough, but\nstartled by the savage ferocity of his antagonist, made his way toward\nour place of refuge. The black got loose and pursued. I disdained to be\ndragged forth as a lurking culprit, and flinging open the door stood\nbefore the crowd. The effect was marvelous. The tumult was hushed at\nonce. Our haggered forms, seen by that half-intoxication which bewilders\nthe brain before it enfeebles the senses, were completely fitted to\nstartle the superstition that lurks in the bosom of every son of the sea;\nand for the moment they evidently took us for something better, or worse,\nthan man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\n_Salathiel and the Pirate Captain_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Spies]\n\nBut the delusion was short-lived; my voice broke the spell, and perhaps\nthe consciousness of their idle alarm increased their rage. \u201cSpies!\u201d was\nthen the outcry, and this dreaded sound brought from beds and tables the\nwhole band. It was in vain that I attempted to speak; the mob have no\nears, whether in cities or caves, and we were dragged forward to undergo\nour examination. Yet what was to be done in the midst of a host of\ntongues, all questioning, accusing, and swearing together?\n\nSome were ready to take every star of heaven to witness that we were a\npair of Paphlagonian pilots, and the identical ones hired to run two of\ntheir ships aground, by which the best expedition of the year was undone.\nOthers knew us to have been in the regular pay of the procurator, and the\nmeans of betraying their last captain to the ax. But the majority honored\nus with the character of simple thieves, who had taken advantage of their\nabsence to plunder the baggage.\n\nThe question next arose, \u201cHow we could have got in?\u201d and for the first\ntime the carousers thought of their sentinel. I told them what I had\nseen. They poured into his chamber, and their suspicions were fixed in\ninexorable reality: \u201cWe had murdered him.\u201d The speediest death for us\nwas now the only consideration. Every man had his proposal, and never\nwere more curious varieties of escape from this evil world offered to two\nwretches already weary of it; but the Arab\u2019s voice carried the point.\n\u201cHe disliked seeing men tossed into the fire; ropes were too useful, and\nthe sword was too honorable to be employed on rogues. But as by water we\ncame, by water we should go.\u201d The sentence was received with a shout; and\namid laughter, furious cries, and threats of vengeance, we were dragged\nto the mouth of the cave.\n\n[Sidenote: The Arrival of the Captain]\n\nThere was a new scene. The tempest was appalling. The waves burst into\nthe anchorage in huge heaps, dashing sheets of foam up to its roof.\nThe wind volleyed in gusts, that took the strongest off their feet;\nthe galleys at anchor were tossed as if they were so many weeds on the\nsurface of the water. Lamps and torches were useless, and the only light\nwas from the funereal gleam of the billows, and the sheets of sulfurous\nfire that fell upon the turbulence of ocean beyond. Even the hardy forms\nround me were startled, and I took advantage of a furious gust that swung\nus all aside, to struggle from their grasp, and seizing a pike, fight\nfor my life. Jubal seconded me with the boldness that no decay could\nexhaust, and setting our backs to the rocks, we for a while baffled our\nexecutioners. But this could not last against such numbers. Our pikes\nwere broken; we were hemmed in, and finally dragged again to the mouth\nof the cavern, that with its foam and the howl of the tumbling billows\nlooked like the jaws of some huge monster ready for its prey.\n\nBruised and overpowered, I was on the point of denying my murderers their\nlast indulgence, and plunging headlong, when a trumpet sounded. The\npirates loosed their hold, and in a few minutes a large galley with all\nher oars broken and every sail torn to fragments shot by the mouth of the\ncavern. A joyous cry of, \u201cThe captain! the captain!\u201d echoed through the\nvaults. The galley, disabled by the storm, tacked several times before\nshe could make the entrance; but at length, by a masterly maneuver,\nshe was brought round, and darted right in on the top of a mountainous\nbillow. Before she touched the ground, the captain had leaped into the\narms of the band, who received him with shouts. His quick eye fell upon\nus at once, and he demanded fiercely what we were. \u201cSpies and thieves\u201d\nwas the general reply.\n\n\u201cSpies!\u201d he repeated, looking contemptuously at our\nhabiliments\u2014\u201cimpossible. Thieves, very likely, and very beggarly ones.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain\u2019s Story]\n\nI denied both imputations alike. He seemed struck by my words, and said\nto the crowd: \u201cFolly! Take them away, if it does not require too much\ncourage to touch them; and let them be washed and fed for the honor\nof hospitality and their own faces. Here, change my clothes and order\nsupper.\u201d\n\nI attempted to explain how we came.\n\n\u201cOf course\u2014of course,\u201d said the captain, pulling off his dripping\ngarments and flinging his cloak to one, his cuirass to another, and his\ncap to a third. \u201cYour rags would vouch for you in any port on earth.\nOr, if you carry on the trade of treachery, you are very ill paid. Why,\nMemnon, look at these fellows; would you give a shekel for their souls\nand bodies? Not a mite. When I look for spies, I expect to find them\namong the prosperous. However, if you turn out to be spies, eat, drink,\nand sleep your best to-night, for you shall be hanged to-morrow.\u201d\n\nHe hurried onward, and we followed, still in durance. The banquet was\nreinstated, and the principal personages of the band gathered round to\nhear the adventures of the voyage.\n\n\u201cAll has been ill luck,\u201d said the captain, tossing off a bumper. \u201cThe old\nprocurator\u2019s spirit was, I think, abroad either to take care of his plate\nor to torment mankind, according to his custom. We were within a boat\u2019s\nlength of the prize when the wind came right in our teeth. Everything\nthat could, ran for the harbor; some went on the rocks; some straight to\nthe bottom; and that we might not follow their example, I put the good\nship before the wind, and never was better pleased than to find myself at\nhome. Thus you see, comrades, that my history is brief; but then it has\nan advantage that history sometimes denies itself\u2014every syllable of it is\ntrue.\u201d\n\nAs the light of the lamps fell on him, it struck me that his face was\nfamiliar to my recollection. He was young, but the habits of his life had\ngiven him a premature manhood; his eye flashed and sparkled with Eastern\nbrilliancy, but his cheek, after the first flush of the banquet, was\npale; and the thinness of a physiognomy naturally masculine and noble,\nshowed that either care or hardship had lain heavily upon his days. He\nhad scarcely sat down to the table when, his glance turning where we\nstood guarded, he ordered us to be brought before him.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel and the Captain]\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said he, \u201cyou came here but a day or two ago. Did you find no\ndifficulty with our sentinels?\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed the Arab, \u201chow could I have forgotten that? I left Titus,\nor by whatever of his hundred names he chose to be called, on guard,\nat his own request, the day I steered for the Nile. He was sick, or\npretended to be so; and as I gave myself but a couple of days for the\nvoyage, I expected to be back in time to save him from the horrors of his\nown company. But the wind said otherwise\u2014the two days were ten; and on\nmy return we found the wretched fellow a corpse\u2014whether from being taken\nill and unable to help himself, or from the assistance of those worthy\npersons here whom we discovered in attendance.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn that subject I have no doubt whatever,\u201d interposed the Egyptian;\n\u201cthose villains murdered him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is possible,\u201d mused the captain; \u201cbut I can not foresee what they\nare to get by it. A question that you at least will acknowledge to be of\nconsiderable importance,\u201d said he, with a careless smile at the Egyptian,\nwhose avarice was proverbial.\n\nThe object of satire was stung, and to get rid of the dangerous topic, he\naffected wrath and said impetuously:\n\n\u201cLet it be so; let our blood go for nothing; let treachery thrive; let\nour throats be at the mercy of every wandering ruffian; and let us have\nthe consolation that our labors and our sacrifices will be honored with a\nsneer.\u201d\n\nHe turned to the crowd waiting round us. \u201cBrave comrades,\u201d exclaimed he,\n\u201chenceforth understand that you are at every dagger\u2019s mercy; that if you\nare left behind, you may be assassinated with impunity, as, if you are\ntaken out upon our foolish expeditions, your lives may be flung away upon\nthe whims and follies of would-be heroes.\u201d\n\nThe crowd, fickle and inflamed by wine, gave a huzza for the \u201csailor\u2019s\nfriend.\u201d The Egyptian encouraged, and having a load of gall upon his\nmemory, made the desperate venture of at once disowning the authority of\nthe captain, and ordering in his own name that we should be delivered\nover to execution.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Shows a Letter]\n\nThe captain listened without a word, but his hand was on his simitar, and\nhis cheek burned, as he fixed his eyes on the livid accuser.\n\nThe crowd pressed closer upon us, and I saw the dagger pointed at my\nbreast, when I recollected the letter. I gave it to the captain, who read\nit in silence, and then, with the utmost composure, desired it to be\nhanded over to the Egyptian.\n\n\u201cComrades,\u201d said he, \u201cI have to apologize for a breach of the confidence\nthat should always subsist between men of honor. I have here accidentally\nread a letter which the cipher shows to have been intended for our\ntrusty friend Memnon; but since the subject is no longer confined to\nhimself, he will doubtless feel no objection to indulging us all with the\ncorrespondence.\u201d\n\nThe band thronged round the table; expectation sat on every face,\nand its various expression in the crowded circle of those strong\nphysiognomies\u2014the keen, the wondering, the angry, the contemptuous, the\nconvinced, the triumphant\u2014would have made an incomparable study for a\npainter. The Egyptian took the letter with a trembling hand and read the\nfatal words.\n\n\u201cThe fleet will be off the northern promontory by midnight. You will\nlight a signal, and be ready to conduct the troops into the cavern.\u201d\n\nThe reader let the fatal despatch fall from his hands.\n\nAn outcry of wrath rose on all sides, and the traitor was on the point of\nbeing sacrificed when the young Idumean generously started forward.\n\n\u201cIt is known, I believe, to every man here,\u201d said he, \u201cthat I dislike\nand distrust Memnon as much as any being on earth. I know him to be base\nand cruel, and therefore hate him. I have long suspected him of being\nconnected with transactions that nothing but the madness of avarice could\nventure upon, and nothing but death atone. But he must not perish without\na trial. Till inquiry is made, the man who strikes him must strike\nthrough me.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Egyptian\u2019s Treachery]\n\nHe placed himself before the culprit, who now taking courage, long\nand dexterously insisted that the letter was a forgery, invented by\n\u201cassassins and those who employed assassins.\u201d\n\nThe tide of popular wisdom is easily turned; opinion was now raging\nagainst me, and the Egyptian stood a fair chance of seeing his reputation\ncleared in my blood.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said the captain, rising, \u201cas we are not likely to gain much\ninformation from the living, let us see whether the dead can give us any:\nlead on, prisoners.\u201d\n\nI led the way to the recess. The dead man lay untouched; but in the\ninterval the features had returned, as is often the case in death, to the\nexpression of former years. I uttered an exclamation; he was the domestic\nwho had betrayed me to the procurator.\n\n\u201cConscience!\u201d cried the Egyptian.\n\n\u201cConscience!\u201d echoed the crowd.\n\nThe captain turned to me. \u201cDid either you or your companion commit\nthis murder? I will have no long stories. I know that this fellow was\na villain, and if he had lived until my return, he should have fed the\ncrows within the next twelve hours. One word\u2014yes or no?\u201d\n\nI answered firmly.\n\n\u201cI believe you,\u201d said the captain. He took the hand of the corpse, and\ncalled to the Egyptian. \u201cTake this hand, and swear that you know nothing\nof the treason. But, ha! what have we here?\u201d\n\nAs he lifted the arm, the sleeve of the tunic gave way, and a slip\nof papyrus fell on the bed. He caught it up, and exclaiming, \u201cWhat!\nto-night? pernicious villain!\u201d turned to the astonished band.\n\n\u201cComrades, there is treachery among us. We are sold\u2014sold by that accursed\nEgyptian. Strip the slave, and fling him into the dungeon until I return;\nno, he shall come with us in chains. Call up the men. Every galley must\nput to sea instantly, if we would not be burned in our beds.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Preparing for the Escape]\n\nThe trumpets sounded through the cavern, and rapid preparations were\nmade for obeying this unexpected command. The fires blazed again; arms\nand armor rang; men were mustered, and the galleys swung out from their\nmoorings, in the midst of tumult and volleys of execrations against the\ntreachery that \u201ccould not wait, at least, for daylight and fair weather.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said the captain, \u201cI think that it is time for me to sup. Sit\ndown, and let us hear over our wine what story the prisoners have to\ntell.\u201d\n\nI briefly stated our escape from the dungeon.\n\n\u201cIt may be a lie; yet the thing hangs not badly together. Your wardrobe\nspeaks prodigiously in favor of your veracity. Ho, Ben Ali! see that the\navenue into the warehouse is stopped up. We must have no visits from the\ngarrison of the tower.\u201d\n\nHe had soon a group of listeners round the table.\n\n\u201cAs I was lying off and on, waiting to catch that galley, a correspondent\non shore let me partly into the secret of that Egyptian dog\u2019s dealings.\nRich as the knave was\u2014and how he came by his money, Tartarus only\nknows\u2014Roman gold had charms for him still. In fact, he had been carrying\non a very handsome trade in information during the last six months, which\nmay best account for the escape of two fleets from Byzantium, and not\nless for the present safety of the procurator\u2019s plate, which, however, I\nhope, by the blessing of Neptune, to see before another week shining upon\nthis table.\u201d\n\nThen, turning to me, he laughingly said: \u201cTho I should not trust you for\npilotage, your discovery was of use. That an attack upon us was intended\nI was aware; but the how and the when were the difficulty. The time of\nthe attack was announced in the papyrus, and but for the storm we should\nprobably be now doing other things than supping.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sea is going down already, and the wind has changed,\u201d said the Arab.\n\u201cWe can haul off the shore without loss of time.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the sooner the better. We must seal up the Romans in their port, or\nif they venture out on such a night, give them sound reason for wishing\nthat they had stayed at home. Their galleys, if good for nothing else,\nwill do to burn.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Company of the Free-Traders]\n\nThis bold determination was received with a general cheer; the crews\ndrank to the glory of their expedition, and all rushed toward the\ngalleys, which, crowded with men, lay tossing at the edge of the arch.\n\nI followed, and demanded what was to be our fate.\n\n\u201cWhat will you have?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnything but abandonment here. Let us take the chances of your voyage,\nand be set on shore at the first place you touch.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd sell our secret to the best bidder? No. But I have no time to\nmake terms with you now. One word for all; ragged as you both are,\nyou are strong, and your faces would do no great discredit to our\nprofession. You probably think this no very striking compliment,\u201d said\nhe, laughing. \u201cHowever, I have taken a whim to have you with us and\noffer you promotion. Will you take service with the noble company of the\nFree-trade?\u201d\n\nJubal was rashly indignant; I checked him, and merely answered that I had\npurposes of extreme exigency which prevented my accepting his offer.\n\n\u201cHa, morality!\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cyou will not be seen with rogues like us?\u201d\nHe laughed aloud. \u201cWhy, man, if you will not live, eat, drink, travel,\nand die with rogues, where upon earth can you expect to live or die? The\ndifference between us and the world is that we do the thing without the\nadditional vice of hypocrisy.\u201d\n\nThe bold fellows who waited round us felt for the honor of their calling,\nand but for their awe of the captain we had stood slight chance of escape.\n\n\u201cA pike might let a little light into their understandings,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cIf they will not follow on the deck, they should swim at the stern,\u201d\nsaid another.\n\n\u201cThe hermits should be sent back to their dungeon,\u201d said a third.\n\nThe boat was now run up on the sand.\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain\u2019s Calling]\n\n\u201cGet in,\u201d said the captain. \u201cI have taken it into my head to convince\nyou by fact of the honor, dignity, and primitiveness of our profession,\nwhich is, in the first place, the oldest, for it was the original\nemployment of all human hands; in the next place, the most universal,\nfor it is the principle of all trades, pursuits, and professions, from\nthe Emperor on his throne down through the doctor, the lawyer, and the\nmerchant, to the very sediment of society.\u201d\n\nA loud laugh echoed through the cavern.\n\nWhile he was arranging his corselet and weapons round him, the captain\nproceeded: \u201cThe Free-trade is the essence of the virtues. For example,\nI meet a merchantman loaded with goods\u2014for what is the cargo meant? To\npurchase slaves; to tear fathers from their families\u2014husbands from their\nwives; to burn villages, and bribe savages to murder each other. I strip\nthe hold; the slave-market is at an end, and none suffer but fellows who\nought to have been hanged long ago.\u201d\n\nThe captain\u2019s doctrine was more popular than ever.\n\n[Sidenote: On Board the Galleys]\n\n\u201cI see, comrades,\u201d said the captain, \u201cthat tho truth is persuasive, your\nhuzza is not for me, but for fact. We find a young rake ranging the world\nwith more money than brains, sowing sedition among the fair rivals for\nthe honor of sharing his purse; running away with daughters; gambling\ngreater fools than himself out of their fortunes; in short, playing the\nprofligate in all shapes. He drops into our hands, and we strip him to\nthe last penny. What is the consequence? We make him virtuous on the\nspot. The profligate becomes a model of penitence; the root of all his\nills has been unearthed; the prodigal is saving; the bacchanal temperate;\nthe seducer lives in the innocence of a babe; the gambler never touches\na die. We have broken the mainspring of his vices\u2014money; disarmed the\nsoft deceiver of his spell\u2014money; checked the infection of the gambler\u2019s\nexample by cutting off the source of the disease\u2014money; or if nothing can\nteach him common sense, our dungeon will at least keep him out of harm\u2019s\nway. We meet a rich old rogue,\u201d continued he, \u201con his voyage between the\nislands. What is he going to do? To marry some young creature who has\na young lover, perhaps a dozen. The marriage would break her heart and\nraise a little rebellion in the island. We capture the old Cupid, strip\nhim of his coin, and he is a Cupid no more; fathers and mothers abhor\nhim at once; the young lover has his bride and the old one his lesson;\nthe one gets his love and the other his experience; and both have to\nthank the gallant crew of the _Scorpion_, which may Neptune long keep\nabove water.\u201d\n\nA joyous shout and the waving of caps and swords hailed the captain\u2019s\ndisplay. \u201cThe Free-trade forever!\u201d was cheered in all directions.\n\n\u201cAnd now, my heroes of salt water, noble brothers of the Nereids, sons of\nthe starlight, here I make libation to fortune.\u201d\n\nHe poured a part of his cup into the wave, and drank to the general\nhealth with the remainder.\n\n\u201cHappiness to all! Let our work to-night be what it will, I know, my\nheroes, that it will be handsomely done. The enemy may call us names, but\nyou will answer them by proofs that, whatever we may be, we are neither\nslaves nor dastards. If I catch the insolent commander of the Roman\nfleet, I will teach him a lesson in morals that he never knew before. He\nshall flog, fleece, and torture no more. I will turn the hard-hearted\ntyrant into tenderness from top to toe. His treatment of the crew of the\n_Hy\u00e6na_ was infamous; and, by Jupiter! what I owe him shall be discharged\nin full. Now on board, and may Neptune take care of you!\u201d\n\nThe trumpets flourished, the people cheered, the boats pushed off, the\ngalleys hoisted every sail, and in a moment we found ourselves rushing\nthrough the water under the wildest canopy of heaven.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX\n\n_A Sea Fight_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain as Seaman]\n\nWe stretched out far to sea, for the double purpose of falling by\nsurprise upon the Roman squadron and of avoiding the shoals. The wind\nlulled at intervals so much that we had recourse to our oars; it would\nthen burst down with a violence that all but hurled us out of the water.\nI now saw more of the captain, and was witness to the extraordinary\nactivity and skill of this singular young man. Never was there a more\nexpert seaman. For every change of sea or wind he had a new expedient;\nand when the hearts of the stoutest sank, he took the helm into his hands\nand carried us through the chaos of foam, whirlwind, and lightning with\nthe vigor of one born to sport with the storm.\n\nAs I was gazing over the vessel\u2019s side at the phosphoric gleams that\ndanced along the billows, he came up to me.\n\n\u201cI am sorry,\u201d said he, \u201cthat we have been compelled to give you so rough\na specimen of our hospitality, and this is not altogether a summer sea,\nbut you saw how the matter stood. The enemy would have been upon us, and\nthe whole advantage of our staying at home would be to have our throats\ncut in company.\u201d\n\nOdd and rambling as his style was, there was something in his manner\nand voice that had struck me before, even in the boisterousness of the\nconvivial crowd. But now, in the solitary sea, there was a melancholy\nsweetness in his tones that made me start with sad recollection. Yet,\nwhen by the lightning I attempted to discover in his features any clue to\nmemory, and saw but the tall figure wrapped in the sailor\u2019s cloak, the\nhair streaming over his face in the spray, and every line of his powerful\nphysiognomy at its full stretch in the agitation of the time, the thought\nvanished again.\n\n[Sidenote: His Request]\n\n\u201cI hinted,\u201d said he, after an interval of silence, \u201cat your taking chance\nwith us. If you will, you may. But the hint was thrown out merely to draw\noff the fellows about me, and you are at full liberty to forget it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is impossible to join you,\u201d was my answer; \u201cmy life is due to my\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, for that matter, so is mine, and due a long time ago; my only wonder\nis, how I have evaded payment till now. But I am a man of few words. I\nhave taken a sort of liking to you, and would wish to have a few such at\nhand. The world calls me pirate, and the majority, of course, carries the\nquestion. For its opinion I do not care a cup of water; a bubble would\nweigh as heavily with me as the rambling, giddy, vulgar judgment of a\nworld in which the first of talents is knavery. I never knew a man fail\nwho brought to market prostitution of mind enough to make him a tool,\nvice enough to despise everything but gain, and cunning enough to keep\nhimself out of the hands of the magistrate till opulence enabled him to\ncorrupt the law or authority to defy it. But let that pass. The point\nbetween us is, will you take service with us?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! I feel the strongest gratitude for the manliness and the generosity\nof your protection. You saved our lives, and our only hope of revisiting\nJudea in freedom is through you. But, young man, I have a great cause in\nhand. I have risked everything for it. Family, wealth, rank, life, are my\nstake; and I look upon every hour given to other things as so far a fraud\nupon my country.\u201d\n\nI heard him sigh. There was silence on both sides for a while, and he\npaced the deck; then suddenly returning, laid his hand on my shoulder.\n\n\u201cI am convinced of your honor,\u201d said he, \u201cand far be it from me to betray\na man who has indeed a purpose worthy of manhood into our broken and\nunhappy\u2014aye, let the word come out, infamous career. But you tell me that\nI have been of some use to you; I now demand the return. You have refused\nto take service with me. Let me take service with you!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Presence of the Roman Fleet]\n\nI stared at him. He smiled sadly, and said: \u201cYou will not associate with\none stained like me. Aye, for me there is no repentance! Yet, why shall\nthe world\u201d\u2014and his voice was full of anguish\u2014\u201cwhy shall an ungenerous and\nmisjudging world be suffered to keep forever at a distance those whom it\nhas first betrayed?\u201d His emotion got the better of him, and his voice\nsank. He again approached me. \u201cI am weary of this kind of life. Not that\nI have reason to complain of the men about me, nor that I dislike the\nchances of the sea; but that I feel the desire to be something better\u2014to\nredeem myself out of the number of the dishonored; to do something which,\nwhether I live or die, will satisfy me that I was not meant to be\u2014the\noutcast that I am.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen join us, if you will,\u201d said I. \u201cOur cause demands the bold; and\nthe noblest spirit that ever dwelt in man would find its finest field in\nthe deliverance of our land, the land of holiness and glory. But can you\nleave all that you have round you here?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot without a struggle. I have an infinite delight in this wild kind of\nexistence. I love the strong excitement of hazard; I love the perpetual\nbustle of our career; I love even the capriciousness of wind and wave.\nI have wealth in return for its perils; and no man knows what enjoyment\nis but he who knows it through the fatigue of a sailor\u2019s life. All the\nbanquets of Epicureanism are not half so delicious as even the simplest\nmeal to his hunger, nor the softest bed of luxury half so refreshing\nas the bare deck to his weariness. But I must break up those habits;\nand whether beggar, slave, or soldier obtaining the distinction of a\nsoldier\u2019s success, I am determined on trying my chance among mankind.\u201d\n\nA sheet of lightning at this instant covered the whole horizon with blue\nflame, and a huge ball of fire springing from the cloud, after a long\nflight over the waters split upon the shore. The keenness of the seaman\u2019s\neye saw what had escaped mine.\n\n\u201cThat was a lucky sea-light for us,\u201d said he. \u201cThe Romans are lying under\nyonder promontory, driven to take shelter by the gale, of course; but for\nthat fire-ball they would have escaped me.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Gives the Order]\n\nAll the crew were now summoned on deck; signals were made to the other\ngalleys; the little fleet brought into close order; pikes, torches, and\ncombustibles of all kinds gathered upon the poop; the sails furled, and\nwith muffled oars we glided down upon the enemy. The Roman squadron, with\nthat precaution which was the essential of its matchless discipline, was\ndrawn up in order of battle, tho it could have had no expectation of\nbeing attacked on such a night. But the roar of the gale buried every\nother sound, and we stole round the promontory unheard.\n\nThe short period of this silent navigation was one of the keenest\nanxiety. All but those necessary for the working of the vessel were lying\non their faces; not a limb was moved, and like a galley of the dead we\nfloated on, filled with destruction. We were yet at some distance from\nthe twinkling lights that showed the prefect\u2019s trireme when, on glancing\nround, I perceived a dark object on the water, and pointed it out to the\ncaptain.\n\n\u201cSome lurking spy,\u201d said he, \u201cwho was born to pay for his knowledge.\u201d\n\nWith a sailor\u2019s promptitude he caught up a lamp and swung it overboard.\nIt fell beside the object, a small boat, as black as the waves themselves.\n\n\u201cNow for the sentinel,\u201d were his words, as he plunged into the sea. The\nact was as rapid as the words. I heard a struggle, a groan, and the boat\nfloated empty beside me on the next billow.\n\nBut there was no time to wait for his return. We were within an oar\u2019s\nlength of the anchorage. To communicate the probable loss of their\ncaptain (and what could human struggle do among the mountainous waves of\nthat sea?) might be to dispirit the crew and ruin the enterprise. I took\nthe command upon myself, and gave the word to fall on.\n\n[Sidenote: The Suddenness of Mutiny]\n\nA storm of fire, as strange to the enemy as if it had risen from the\nbottom of the sea, was instantly poured on the advanced ships. The\nsurprise was complete. The crews, exhausted by the night, were chiefly\nasleep. The troops on board were helpless, on decks covered with spray,\nand among shrouds and sails falling down in burning fragments on their\nheads. Our shouts gave them the idea of being attacked by overwhelming\nnumbers, and after a short dispute we cleared the whole outer line of\nevery sailor and soldier. The whole was soon a pile of flame, a sea\nvolcano that lighted sky, sea, and shore.\n\nYet only half our work was done. The enemy were now fully awake, and\nno man could despise Roman preparation. I ordered a fire galley to\nrun in between the leading ships; but she was caught half-way by a\nchain, and turned round, scattering flame among ourselves. The boats\nwere then lowered, and our most desperate fellows sent to cut out or\nboard. But the crowded decks drove them back, and the Roman pike was an\nover-match for our short falchions. For a while we were forced to content\nourselves with the distant exchange of lances and arrows. The affair now\nbecame critical. The enemy were still three times our force; they were\nunmooring, and our only chance of destroying them was at anchor. I called\nthe crew forward and proposed that we should run the galley close on the\nprefect\u2019s ship, set them both on fire, and in the confusion carry the\nremaining vessels. But sailors, if as bold, are as capricious as their\nelement. Our partial repulse had already disheartened them. I was met by\nclamors for the captain. The clamors rose into open charges that I had,\nto get the command, thrown him overboard.\n\nI was alone. Jubal, worn out with fatigue and illness, was lying at\nmy feet, more requiring defense than able to afford it. The crowd was\ngrowing furious against the stranger. I felt that all depended on the\nmoment, and leaped from the poop into the midst of the mutineers.\n\n\u201cFools,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cwhat could I get by making away with your captain?\nI have no wish for your command. I have no want of your help. I disdain\nyou: bold as lions over the table; tame as sheep on the deck; I leave you\nto be butchered by the Romans. Let the brave follow me, if such there be\namong you.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Monarch of a War Galley]\n\nA shallop that had just returned with the defeated boarders, lay by\nthe galley\u2019s side. I seized a torch. Eight or ten, roused by my taunts,\nfollowed me into the boat. We pulled right for the Roman center. Every\nman had a torch in one hand and an oar in the other. We shot along the\nwaters, a flying mass of flame; and while both fleets were gazing on\nus in astonishment, rushed under the stern of the commander\u2019s trireme.\nThe fire soon rolled up her tarry sides and ran along the cordage. But\nthe defense was desperate, and lances rained upon us. Half of us were\ndisabled in the first discharge; the shallop was battered with huge\nstones, and I felt that she was sinking.\n\n\u201cOne trial more, brave comrades, one glorious trial more! The boat must\ngo down, and unless we would go along with it, we must board.\u201d\n\nI leaped forward and clung to the chains. My example was followed. The\nboat went down; and this sight, which was just discovered by the livid\nflame of the vessel, raised a roar of triumph among the enemy. But to\nclimb up the tall sides of the trireme was beyond our skill, and we\nremained, dashed by the heavy waves as she rose and fell. Our only\nalternatives now were to be piked, drowned, or burned. The flames were\nalready rapidly advancing; showers of sparkles fell upon our heads; the\nclamps and ironwork were growing hot to the touch; the smoke was rolling\nover us in suffocating volumes. I was giving up all for lost when a\nmountainous billow swept the vessel\u2019s head round, and I saw a blaze burst\nout from the shore,\u2014the Roman tents were on fire!\n\nConsternation seized the crews, thus attacked on all sides; and uncertain\nof the number of the assailants, they began to desert the ships and by\nboats or swimming make for the various points of the land. The sight\nreanimated me. I climbed up the side of the trireme, torch in hand,\nand with my haggard countenance, made still wilder by the wild work of\nthe night, looked a formidable apparition to men already harassed out\nof all courage. They plunged overboard\u2014and I was monarch of the finest\nwar-galley on the coast of Syria.\n\n[Sidenote: The Conflagration]\n\nBut my kingdom was without subjects. None of my own crew had followed me.\nI saw the pirate vessels bearing down to complete the destruction of\nthe fleet, and hailed them, but they all swept far wide of the trireme.\nThe fire had taken too fast hold of her to make approach safe. I now\nbegan to feel my situation. The first sense of triumph was past, and I\nfound myself deserted. The deed of devastation, meanwhile, was rapidly\ngoing on. I saw the Roman ships successively boarded, almost without\nresistance, and in a blaze. The conflagration rose in sheets and spires\nto the heavens, and colored the waters to an immeasurable extent with\nthe deepest dye of gore. I heard the victorious shouts, and mine rose\nspontaneously along with them. In every vessel burned, in every torch\nflung, I rejoiced in a new blow to the tyrants of Judea. But my thoughts\nwere soon fearfully brought home. The fire reached the cables; the\ntrireme, plunging and tossing like a living creature in its last agony,\nburst away from her anchors; the wind was off the shore; a gust, strong\nas the blow of a battering-ram, struck her; and on the back of a huge\nwave she shot out to sea, a flying pyramid of fire.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL\n\n_A Burning Trireme_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Solitary Voyager]\n\nNever was man more indifferent to the result than the solitary voyager of\nthe burning trireme. What had life for me? I gazed round me. The element\nof fire reigned supreme. The shore\u2014mountain, vale, and sand\u2014was bright\nas day from the blaze of the tents and the floating fragments of the\ngalleys. The heavens were an arch of angry splendor\u2014every stooping cloud\nswept along reddened with the various dyes of the conflagration below.\nThe sea was a rolling abyss of the fiercest color of slaughter. The\nblazing vessels, loosened from the shore, rushed madly before the storm,\nsheet and shroud shaking loose abroad like vast wings of flame.\n\nAt length all disappeared. The shore faded far into a dim line of light;\nthe galleys sank or were consumed; the sea grew dark again. But the\ntrireme, strongly built and of immense size, still fed the flame, and\nstill shot on through the tempest, that fell on her the more furiously\nas she lost the cover of the land. The waves rose to a height that often\nbaffled the wind, and left me floating in a strange calm between two\nblack walls of water reaching to the clouds, and on whose smooth sides\nthe image of the burning vessel was reflected as strongly as in a mirror.\nBut the ascent to the summit of those fearful barriers again let in the\nstorm in its rage. The tops of the billows were whirled off in sheets of\nfoam; the wind tore mast and sail away, and the vessel was dashed forward\nlike a stone discharged from an engine. I stood on the poop, which the\nspray and the wind kept clear of flame, and contemplated, with some\nfeeling of the fierce grandeur of the spectacle, the fire rolling over\nthe forward part of the vessel in a thousand shapes and folds.\n\nWhile I was thus careering along, like the genius of fire upon his\nthrone, I caught a glimpse of sails scattering in every direction before\nme\u2014I had rushed into the middle of one of those small trading-fleets\nthat coasted annually between the Euxine and the Nile. They flew, as if\npursued by a fiend. But the same wind that bore them, bore me; and their\nscreams, as the trireme bounded from billow to billow on their track,\nwere audible even through the roarings of the storm. They gradually\nsucceeded in spreading themselves so far that the contact with the flame\nmust be partial. But on one, the largest and most crowded, the trireme\nbore inevitably down. The hunted ship tried every mode of escape in vain;\nit maneuvered with extraordinary skill; but the pursuer, lightened of\nevery burden, rushed on like a messenger of vengeance.\n\n[Sidenote: The Sound of a Voice]\n\nI could distinctly see the confusion and misery of the crowd that covered\nthe deck; men and women kneeling, weeping, fainting, or, in the fierce\nriot of despair, struggling for some wretched spoil that a few moments\nmore must tear from all alike. But among the fearful mingling of sounds,\none voice I suddenly heard that struck to my soul. It alone roused me\nfrom my stern scorn of human suffering. I no longer looked upon those\nbeings as upon insects, that must be crushed in the revolution of the\ngreat wheel of fate. The heart, the living human heart, palpitated\nwithin me. I rushed to the side of the trireme, and with voice and hand\nmade signals to the crew to take me on board. But at my call a cry of\nagony rang through the vessel. All fled to its farther part, but a few,\nwho, unable to move, were seen on their knees, and in the attitudes of\npreternatural fear, imploring every power of heaven. Shocked by the\nconsciousness that, even in the hour when mutual hazard softens the heart\nof man, I was an object of horror, I shrank back. I heard the voice once\nmore, and once more resolving to get on board, flung a burning fragment\nover the side to help me through the waves.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cThe solitary voyager of the burning trireme.\u201d\n\n [_see page 317._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\nBut the time was past. The fragment had scarcely touched the foam when a\nsheet of lightning wrapped sea and sky; the flying vessel was gone. My\neye looked but upon the wilderness of waters. The flash was fatal. It had\nstruck the hold of my trireme, in which was stowed a large freightage\nof the bitumen and niter of the desert. A column of flame, white as\nsilver, rose straight and steadily up to the clouds; and the huge ship,\ndisparting timber by timber, reeled, heaved, and plunged headlong into\nthe bosom of the ocean.\n\n[Sidenote: In a Whirlpool]\n\nI rose to the surface from a prodigious depth. I was nearly breathless.\nMy limbs were wasted with famine and fatigue; but the tossing of the\nsurges sustained and swept me on. The chill at last benumbed me, and my\nlimbs were heavy as iron, when a broken mast rolling by entangled me in\nits cordage. It drove toward a point of land, round which the current\nswept. Strongly netted in the wreck, I was dragged along, sometimes above\nthe billow, sometimes below. But a violent shock released me, and with a\nnew terror I felt myself go down. I was engulfed in the whirlpool!\n\nEvery sensation was horribly vivid. I had the full consciousness of life\nand of the unfathomable depth into which I was descending. I heard the\nroar and rushing of the waters round me; the holding of my breath was\ntorture; I strained, struggled, tossed out my arms, and grasped madly\naround, as if to catch something that might retard my hideous descent.\nMy eyes were open. I never was less stunned by shock or fear. The solid\ndarkness, the suffocation, the furious whirl of the eddy that spun me\nround its huge circle like an atom of sand\u2014every sense of drowning\u2014passed\nthrough my shattered frame with an individual and successive pang. I at\nlast touched something, whether living or dead, fish or stone, I know\nnot; but the impulse changed my direction, and I was darted up to the\nsurface in a little bay sheltered by hills.\n\nThe storm had gone with the rapidity of the south. The sun burned bright\nand broad above my head; the pleasant breath of groves and flowery\nperfumes came on the waters; a distant sound of sweet voices lingered on\nthe air. Like one roused from a frightful dream, I could scarcely believe\nthat this was reality. But the rolling waters behind gave me sudden\nevidence. A billow, the last messenger of the storm, burst into the\nlittle bay, filled it to the brim with foam, and tossed me far forward.\nIt rolled back, dragging with it the sedge and pebbles of the beach. I\ngrasped the trunk of an olive, rough and firm as the rock itself. The\nretiring waves left me; I felt my way some paces among the trees, cast\nmyself down, and, worn out with fatigue, had scarcely reached their shade\nwhen I fainted.\n\n[Sidenote: A Quiet Spot]\n\nI awoke in the decline of the day, as I could perceive by the yellow and\norange hues that colored the thick branches above me. I was lying in a\ndelicious recess, crowded with fruit-trees; my bed was the turf, but it\nwas soft as down; a solitary nightingale above my head was sending forth\nsnatches of that melody which night prolongs into the very voice of\nsweetness and sorrow; and a balmy air from the wild thyme and blossoms of\nthe rose breathed soothingly even to the mind.\n\nI had been thrown on one of the little isles that lie off Anth\u00e6don, a\nportion of the Philistine territory before it was won by our hero the\nMaccabee. The commerce which once filled the arm of the sea near Gaza had\nperished in the change of masters, and silence and seclusion reigned in a\nspot formerly echoing with the tumult of merchant and mariner. The little\nisle, the favorite retreat of the opulent Greek and Syrian traders in the\noverpowering heats of summer, and cultivated with the lavish expenditure\nof commercial wealth, now gave no proof of its ever having felt the foot\nof man, but in the spontaneous exuberance of flowers, once brought from\nevery region of the East and West, and the exquisite fruits that still\nglowed on its slopes and dells.\n\n[Sidenote: A Refuge]\n\nIn all things else Nature had resumed her rights; the gilded pavilions,\nthe temples of Parian and Numidian stone, were in ruins, and buried under\na carpet of roses and myrtles. The statues left but here and there a\nremnant of themselves, a lovely relic, wreathed over in fantastic spirals\nby the clematis and other climbing plants. The sculptured fountain let\nits waters loose over the ground, and the guardian genius that hung in\nmarble beauty over the spring had long since resigned his charge and lay\nmutilated and discolored with the air and the dew. But the spring still\ngushed, bounding bright between the gray fissures of the cliff, and\nmarking its course through the plain by the richer mazes of green.\n\nTo me, who was as weary of existence as ever was galley-slave, this spot\nof quiet loveliness had a tenfold power. My mind, like my body, longed\nfor rest.\n\nThrough life I had walked in a thorny path; my ambition had winged\na tempestuous atmosphere. Useless hazards, wild projects, bitter\nsufferings, were my portion. Those feelings in which alone I could be\nsaid to live had all been made inlets of pain. The love which nature and\njustice won from me to my family was perpetually thwarted by a chain of\ncircumstances that made me a wretched, helpless, and solitary man. What\nthen could I do better than abandon the idle hope of finding happiness\namong mankind; break off the trial, which must be prolonged only to my\nevil; and elude the fate that destined me to be an exile in the world?\nYes, I would no longer be a man of suffering, in the presence of its\nhappiness; a wretch stripped of an actual purpose, or a solid hope, in\nthe midst of its activity and triumph; the abhorred example of a career\nmiserable with defeated pursuit, and tantalized with expectations vain as\nthe ripple on the stream!\n\nIn this stern resolve, gathering courage from despair\u2014as the criminal\non the scaffold scoffs at the world that rejects him\u2014I determined to\nexclude recollection. The spot round me was henceforth to fill up the\nwhole measure of my thoughts. Wife, children, friends, country, to me\nmust exist no more. I imaged them in the tomb; I talked with them as\nshadows, as the graceful and lovely existences of ages past,\u2014as hallowed\nmemorials; but labored to divest them of the individual features that\ncling to the soul.\n\n[Sidenote: On the Shores of the Mediterranean]\n\nLest this mystic repose should be disturbed by any of the sights of\nliving man, I withdrew deeper into the shades which first sheltered me.\nIt was enough for me that there was a canopy of leaves above to shield\nmy limbs from the casual visitations of a sky whose sapphire looked\nscarcely capable of a stain, and that the turf was soft for my couch.\nFruits sufficient to tempt the most luxurious taste were falling round\nme, and the waters of the bright rivulet, scooped in the rind of citron\nand orange, were a draft that the epicure might envy. I was still utterly\nignorant on what shore of the Mediterranean I was thrown, further than\nthat the sun rose behind my bower and threw his western luster on the\nwaveless expanse of sea that spread before it to the round horizon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI\n\n_The Granddaughter of Ananus_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Activity]\n\nBut no man can be a philosopher against nature. With my strength the\ndesire for exertion returned. My most voluptuous rest became irksome.\nMemory would not be restrained; the floodgates of thought opened once\nmore, and to resist the passion for the world, I was driven to the\ndrudgery of the hands. I gathered wood for the winter\u2019s fuel, in the\nmidst of days when the sun poured fire from the heavens; I attempted to\nbuild a hut, beside grottoes that a hermit would love; I trained trees\nand cultivated flowers where the soil threw out all that was rich in both\nwith exhaustless prodigality.\n\nYet no expedient would appease the passion for the absorbing business\nof the world. My bower lost its enchantment; the delight of lying on\nbeds of violet, and with my eyes fixed on the heavens, wandering away\nin rich illusion, palled upon me; the colors of the vision had grown\ndim. I no longer saw shapes of beauty winging their way through the\ncelestial azure; I heard no harmonies of spirits on the midnight winds; I\nfollowed no longer the sun, rushing on his golden chariot-wheels to lands\nunstained by human step, or plunged with him at eve into the depths and\nranged the secret wonders of ocean.\n\n[Sidenote: The Island Prison]\n\nLabor in its turn grew irksome. I began to reproach myself for the vulgar\nexistence which occupied only the inferior portion of my nature; living\nonly for food, sleep, and shelter, what was I better than the seals\nthat basked on the shore at my feet? Night, too\u2014that mysterious rest,\ninterposed for purposes of such varied beneficence: to cool the brain,\nfevered by the bustle of the day; to soften mutual hostility, by a pause\nto which all alike must yield; to remind our forgetful nature, by a\nperpetual semblance, of the time when all things must pass away, and be\nsilent, and sleep; to sit in judgment on our hearts, and by a decision\nwhich no hypocrisy can disguise, anticipate the punishment of the\nvillain, as it gives the man of virtue the foretaste of his reward\u2014night\nbegan to exert its old influence over me; and with the strongest\ndetermination to think no more of what had been, I closed my eyes but\nto let in the past. I might have said that my true sleep was during the\nlabors of the day, and my waking when I lay, with my senses sealed, upon\nmy bed of leaves.\n\nIt is impossible to shut up the mind, and I at last abandoned the\nstruggle. The spell of indolence once broken, I became as restless as\nan eagle in a cage. My first object was to discover on what corner of\nthe land I was thrown. Nothing could be briefer than the circuit of my\nisland, and nothing less explanatory. It was one of those little alluvial\nspots that grow round the first rock that catches the vegetation swept\ndown by rivers. Ages had gone by, while reed was bound to reed and one\nbed of clay laid upon another. The ocean had thrown up its sands on the\nshore; the winds had sown tree and herb on the naked sides of the tall\nrock; the tree had drawn the cloud, and from its roots let loose the\nspring. Cities and empires had perished while this little island was\nforming into loveliness. Thus nature perpetually builds, while decay does\nits work with the pomp of man. From the shore I saw but a long line of\nyellow sand across a broad belt of blue waters. No sight on earth could\nless attract the eye or be less indicative of man.\n\n[Sidenote: Unanswered Signals]\n\nYet within that sandy barrier what wild and wondrous acts might be doing,\nand to be done! My mind, with a pinion that no sorrow or bondage could\ntame, passed over the desert, and saw the battle, the siege, the bloody\nsedition, the long and heart-broken banishment, the fierce conflict\nof passions irrestrainable as the tempest, the melancholy ruin of my\ncountry by a judgment powerful as fate, and dreary and returnless as the\ngrave! But the waters between me and that shore were an obstacle that\nno vigor of imagination could overcome. I was too feeble to attempt the\npassage by swimming. The opposite coast appeared to be uninhabited,\nand the few fishing-boats that passed lazily along this lifeless coast\nevidently shunned the island, as I conceived, from some hidden shoal.\nI felt myself a prisoner, and the thought irritated me. That ancient\ndisturbance of my mind, which rendered it so keenly excitable, was born\nagain; I felt its coming, and knew that my only resource was to escape\nfrom this circumscribing paradise that had become my dungeon. Day after\nday I paced the shore, awaking the echoes with my useless shouts, as each\ndistant sail glided along close to the sandy line that was now to me the\nunattainable path of happiness. I made signals from the hill, but I might\nas well have summoned the vultures to stop as they flew screaming above\nmy head to feed on the relics of the Syrian caravans.\n\nWhat trifles can sometimes stand between man and enjoyment! Wisdom would\nhave thanked Heaven for the hope of escaping the miseries of life in the\nlittle enchanted round, guarded by that entrenchment of waters, filled\nwith every production that could delight the sense, and giving to the\nspirit, weary of all that the world could offer, the gentle retirement\nin which it could gather its remaining strength and make its peace with\nHeaven.\n\nI was lying during a fiery noon on the edge of the island, looking toward\nthe opposite coast, the only object on which I could now bear to look,\nwhen, in the stillness of the hour, I heard a strange mingling of distant\nsounds, yet so totally indistinct that, after long listening, I could\nconjecture it to be nothing but the rising of the surge. It died away.\nBut it haunted me: I heard it in fancy. It followed me in the morn, the\nnoon, and the twilight; in the hour of toil and in the hour when earth\nand heaven were soft and silent as an infant\u2019s sleep\u2014when the very spirit\nof tranquillity seemed to be folding his dewy wings over the world.\n\nWearied more with thought than with the daily toil that I imposed on\nmyself for its cure, I had one night wandered to the shore, and lain down\nunder the shelter of those thick woven boughs that scarcely let in the\nglimpses of the moon. The memory of all whom later chances brought in\nmy path passed before me\u2014the fate of my gallant kinsmen in Masada, of\nthe wily Ishmaelite, of the pirate captain, of that unhappy crew whose\ndanger was my involuntary deed, of my family scattered upon the face of\nthe world. Arcturus, bending toward the horizon, told me that it was\nalready midnight, when my reverie was broken by the same sounds that had\nonce disturbed my day. But they now came full and distinct. I heard the\ncrashing of heavy axles along the road, the measured tramp of cavalry,\nthe calls of the clarion and trumpet. They seemed beside me. I started\nfrom my sand, but all around was still. I gazed across the waters; they\nwere lying, like another sky, reflecting star for star with the blue\nimmensity above\u2014but on them was no living thing.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Leaves His Shelter]\n\nI had heard of phantom armies traversing the air, but the sky was serene\nas crystal. I climbed the hill, upon whose summit I recollected to have\nseen the ruins of an altar; gathered the weeds, and lighted them for a\nbeacon. The flame threw a wide and ruddy reflection on the waters and\nthe sky. I watched by it until morn. But the sound had died as rapidly\nas it rose; and when, with the first pearly tinge of the east, the coast\nshaped itself beneath my eye, I saw with bitter disappointment but the\nsame solitary shore. The idea of another day of suspense was intolerable;\nI returned to my place of refuge; gave it that glance of mingled feeling,\nwithout which perhaps no man leaves the shelter which he is never to see\nagain; collected a few fruits for my sustenance, if I should reach the\ndesert; and with a resolution to perish, if it so pleased Providence, but\nnot to return, plunged into the sea.\n\nThe channel was even broader than I had calculated by the eye. My limbs\nwere still enfeebled, but my determination was strength. I was swept\nby the current far from the opposite curve of the shore; yet its force\nspared mine, and after a long struggle I felt the ground under my feet.\nI was overjoyed, tho never was scene less fitted for joy. To the utmost\nverge of the view spread the sands, a sullen herbless waste, glowing like\na sheet of brass in the almost vertical sun.\n\nBut I was on land! I had accomplished my purpose. Hope, the power of\nexertion, the chances of glorious future life, were before me. I was\nno longer a prisoner, within the borders of a spot which, for all the\nobjects of manly existence, might as well have been my grave.\n\nI journeyed on by sun and star in that direction which, to the Jew, is\nan instinct\u2014to Jerusalem. Yet what fearful reverses, in this time of\nconfusion, might not have occurred even there! What certainty could I\nhave of being spared the bitterest losses, when sorrow and slaughter\nreigned through the land? Was I to be protected from the storm, that fell\nwith such promiscuous fury upon all? I, too, the marked, the victim, the\nexample to mankind! I looked wistfully back to the isle\u2014that isle of\noblivion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Robber Camp]\n\nWhile I was pacing the sand that actually scorched my feet, I heard a\ncry, and saw on a low range of sand-hills, at some distance, a figure\nmaking violent gestures. Friend or enemy, at least here was man, and I\ndid not deeply care for the consequences, even of meeting man in his\nworst shape. Hunger and thirst might be more formidable enemies in the\nend; and I advanced toward the half-naked savage, who, however, ran from\nme, crying out louder than ever. I dragged my weary limbs after him,\nand at length reached the edge of a little dell in which stood a circle\nof tents. I had fallen among the robbers of the desert, but there was\nevident confusion in this fragment of a tribe. The camels were in the act\nof being loaded; men and women were gathering their household matters\nwith the haste of terror; and dogs, sheep, camels, and children set up\ntheir voices in a general clamor.\n\nDreading that I might lose my only chance of refreshment and guidance, I\ncried out with all my might, and hastened down toward them; but the sight\nof me raised a universal scream, and every living thing took flight,\nthe horsemen of the colony gallantly leading the way, with a speed that\nsoon left the pedestrians far in the rear. But their invader conquered\nonly for food. I entered the first of the deserted tents, and indulged\nmyself with a full feast of bread, dry and rough as the sand on which it\nwas baked, and of water, only less bitter than that through which I had\nswum. Still, all luxury is relative. To me they were both delicious, and\nI thanked at once the good fortune which had provided so prodigally for\nthose withered monarchs of the sands, and had invested my raggedness with\nthe salutary terror that gave me the fruits of triumph without the toil.\n\n[Sidenote: A Girl\u2019s Appearance]\n\nAt the close of my feast, I uttered a few customary words of\nthanksgiving. A cry of joy rang in my ears; I looked round; saw, to my\nsurprise, a bale of carpets walk forward from a corner of the tent, and\nheard a Jewish tongue imploring for life and freedom. I rapidly developed\nthe speaker, and from this repulsive overture came forth one of the\nloveliest young females that I had ever seen. Her story was soon told.\nShe was the granddaughter of Ananus,[41] the late high priest, one of\nthe most distinguished of his nation for every lofty quality; but he\nhad fallen on evil days. His resistance to faction sharpened the dagger\nagainst him, and he perished in one of the merciless feuds of the city.\nHis only descendant was now before me; she had been sent to claim the\nprotection of her relatives in the south of Judea. But her escort was\ndispersed by an attack of the Arabs, and in the division of the spoil\nthe sheik of this little encampment obtained her as his share. The\nrobber merchant was on his way to C\u00e6sarea to sell his prize to the Roman\ngovernor, when my arrival put his caravan to the rout. To my inquiry\ninto the cause of this singular success, the fair girl answered that the\nArabs had taken me for a supernatural visitant, \u201cprobably come to claim\nsome account of their proceedings in the late expedition.\u201d They had been\nfirst startled by the blaze in the island, which by a tradition of the\ndesert was said to be the dwelling of forbidden beings. My passage of the\nchannel was seen, and increased the wonder; my daring to appear alone,\namong men whom mankind shunned, completed the belief of my more than\nmortal prowess, and the Arabs\u2019 courage abandoned a contest in which \u201cthe\nleast that could happen to them was to be swept into the surge, or tossed\npiecemeal upon the winds.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Sheik\u2019s Shekels]\n\nTo prevent the effects of their returning intrepidity, no time was to\nbe lost in our escape. But the sun, which would have scorched anything\nbut a lizard or a Bedouin to death, kept us prisoners until evening. We\nwere actively employed in the mean time. The plunder of the horde was\nexamined, with the curiosity that makes one of the indefeasible qualities\nof the fair in all climates; and the young Jewess had not been an inmate\nof the tent, nor possessed the brightest eyes among the daughters of\nwomen, for nothing. With an air between play and revenge, she hunted\nout every recess in which even the art of Arab thievery could dispose\nof its produce; and at length rooted up from a hole in the very darkest\ncorner of the tent that precious deposit for which the sheik would have\nsacrificed all mankind, and even the last hair of his beard\u2014a bag of\nshekels. She danced with exultation as she poured the shining contents on\nthe ground before me.\n\n\u201cIf ever Arab regretted his capture,\u201d said she, \u201cthis most unlucky\nof sheiks shall have cause. But I shall teach him at least one\nvirtue\u2014repentance to the last hour of his life. I think that I see him at\nthis moment frightened into a philosopher, and wishing from the bottom of\nhis soul that he had, for once, resisted the temptation of his trade.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what will you do with the money, my pretty teacher of virtue to\nArabs?\u201d\n\n\u201cGive it to my preserver,\u201d said she, advancing, with a look suddenly\nchanged from sportiveness to blushing timidity; \u201cgive it to him who was\nsent by Providence to rescue a daughter of Israel from the hands of the\nheathen.\u201d\n\nIn the emotion of gratitude to me there was mingled a loftier feeling,\nnever so lovely as in youth and woman; she threw up a single glance to\nheaven, and a tear of piety filled her sparkling eye.\n\n\u201cBut, temptress and teacher at once,\u201d said I, \u201cby what right am I to\nseize on the sheik\u2019s treasury? May it not diminish my supernatural\ndignity with the tribe to be known as a plunderer?\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d said she, with a rosy smile; \u201cwho is to betray you but your\naccomplice? Besides, money is reputation and innocence, wisdom and\nvirtue, all over the world.\u201d\n\nTouching, with the tip of one slender finger, my arm as it lay folded on\nmy bosom, she waved the other hand, in attitudes of untaught persuasion.\n\n[Sidenote: A Maiden\u2019s Philosophy]\n\n\u201cIs it not true,\u201d pleaded the pretty creature, \u201cthat next to a crime\nof our own is the being a party to the crime of others? Now, for what\nconceivable purpose could the Arab have collected this money? Not for\nfood or clothing; for he can eat thistles with his own camel, and nature\nhas furnished him with clothing as she has furnished the bear. The haik\nis only an encumbrance to his impenetrable skin. What, then, can he do\nwith money but mischief, fit out new expeditions, and capture other\nfair maidens, who can not hope to find spirits, good or bad, for their\nprotectors? If we leave him the means of evil, what is it but doing\nthe evil ourselves? So,\u201d concluded this resistless pleader, carefully\ngathering up the spoil and putting it into my hands, \u201cI have gained my\ncause, and have now only to thank my most impartial judge for his patient\nhearing.\u201d\n\nThere is a magic in woman. No man, not utterly degraded, can listen\nwithout delight to the accents of her guileless heart. Beauty, too, has\na natural power over the mind, and it is right that this should be.\nAll that overcomes selfishness\u2014the besetting sin of the world\u2014is an\ninstrument of good. Beauty is but melody of a higher kind, and both alike\nsoften the troubled and hard nature of man. Even if we looked on lovely\nwoman but as on a rose, an exquisite production of the summer hours of\nlife, it would be idle to deny her influence in making even those summer\nhours sweeter. But as the companion of the mind, as the very model of a\nfriendship that no chance can shake, as the pleasant sharer of the heart\nof heart, the being to whom man returns after the tumult of the day, like\nthe worshiper to a secret shrine, to revive his nobler tastes and virtues\nat a source pure from the evil of the external world, where shall we find\nher equal, or what must be our feelings toward the mighty Disposer of\nearth, and all that inhabit it, but of admiration and gratitude for that\ndisposal which thus combines our fondest happiness with our purest virtue?\n\nEND OF BOOK II.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: BOOK III]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII\n\n_Naomi\u2019s Story_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Philosopher\u2019s Place]\n\nThe evening came at last; the burning calm was followed by a breeze\nbreathing of life, and on the sky sailed, as if it were wafted by that\ngentle breeze, the evening star. The lifeless silence of the desert\nnow began to be broken by a variety of sounds, wild and sad enough\nin themselves, but softening by distance, and not ill suited to that\ndeclining hour which is so natural an emblem of the decline of life. The\nmoaning of the shepherd\u2019s horn; the low of the folding herds; the long,\ndeep cry of the camel; even the scream of the vulture wheeling home from\nsome recent wreck on the shore, and the howl of the jackal venturing out\non the edge of dusk, came with no unpleasing melancholy upon the wind.\nWe stood gazing impatiently from the tent door, at the west, that still\nglowed like a furnace of molten gold.\n\n\u201cWill that sun never go down?\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cWe must wait his leisure,\nand he seems determined to tantalize us.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; like a rich old man, determined to try the patience of his heirs,\nand more tenacious of his wealth the more his powers of enjoyment decay,\u201d\nsaid the Jewess.\n\n\u201cPhilosophy from those young lips! Yet the desert is the place for a\nphilosopher.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I deny,\u201d said my sportive companion. \u201cPhilosophy is good for\nnothing where it has nothing to ridicule, and where it will be neither\nfed nor flattered. Its true place is the world, as much as the true\nplace of yonder falcon is wherever it can find anything to pounce upon.\nHere your philosopher must labor for himself and laugh at himself\u2014an\nindulgence in which he is the most temperate of men. In short, he is fit\nonly for the idle, gay, ridiculous, and timid world. The desert is the\nsoil for a much nobler plant. If you would train a poet into flower, set\nhim here.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr a plunderer.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt. They are sometimes much the same.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet the desert produces nothing\u2014but Arabs.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are some minds, even among Arabs, and some of their rhapsodies are\nbeauty itself. The very master of this tent, who fought and killed, I\ndare not say how many, to secure so precious a prize as myself, and who,\nafter all his heroism, would have sold me into slavery for life, spent\nhalf his evenings sitting at this door chanting to every star of heaven,\nand riming, with tears in his eyes, to all kinds of tender remembrances.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut perhaps he was a genius, a heaven-born accident, and his merit was\nthe more in being a genius in the midst of such a scene.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo\u2014everything round us this hour is poetry. The silence\u2014those broken\nsounds that make the silence more striking as they decay\u2014those fiery\ncontinents of cloud, the empire of that greatest of sheiks, the sun, lord\nof the red desert of the air\u2014the immeasurable desert below. Vastness,\nobscurity, and terror, the three spirits that work the profoundest\nwonders of the poet, are here in their native region. And now,\u201d she said,\nwith a look that showed there were other spells than poetry to be found\nin the desert, \u201cto release you, I know, by signs infallible, that the sun\nis setting.\u201d\n\nI could not avoid laughing at the mimic wisdom with which she announced\nher discovery, and asked whence she had acquired the faculty of solving\nsuch rare problems.\n\n[Sidenote: A Daughter of the Desert]\n\n\u201cOh, by my incomparable knowledge of the stars.\u201d She pointed to the\neastern sky, on which they began to cluster in showers of diamond.\n\u201cI have to thank the desert for it; and,\u201d she added, with a slight\nsubmission of voice, \u201cfor everything. I am a daughter of the desert; the\nfirst sight that I saw was a camel; my early, my only accomplishments\nwere to ride, sing Bedouin songs, tell Bedouin stories, and tame a young\npanther. But my history draws to a close. While I was supreme in the\ngraces of a savage, had learned to sit a dromedary, throw the lance, make\nhaiks, and gallop for a week together, love, resistless love, came in my\nway. The son of a sheik, heir to a hundred quarrels and ten thousand\nsheep, goats, and horses, claimed me as his natural prey. I shrank from\na husband even more accomplished than myself, and was meditating how to\nmake my escape, whether into the wilderness or into the bottom of the\nsea, when a summons came which, or the money that came with it, the sheik\nfound irresistible. And now my history is at an end.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so,\u201d said I, to provoke her to the rest of her narrative, \u201cyour\nstory ends, as usual, with marriage. You, of course, finding that you had\nnothing to prevent your leaving the desert, took the female resolution\nof remaining in it, and as you might discard the young sheik at your\npleasure, refused to have any other human being.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you think me capable of such a horror?\u201d\n\nShe stamped her little foot in indignation on the ground; then turning on\nme with her flashing eye, penetrated the stratagem at once by my smile.\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi Continues Her Story]\n\n\u201cThen hear the rest. I instantly mounted my dromedary, galloped for three\ndays without sleep, and at length saw the towers of Jerusalem\u2014glorious\nJerusalem. I passed through crowds that seemed to me a gathering of\nthe world; streets that astonished me with a thousand strange sights;\nand, overwhelmed with magnificence, delight, and fatigue, arrived at a\npalace, where I was met by a host of half-adoring domestics, and was led\nto the most venerable and beloved of wise and holy men, who caught me to\nhis heart, called me his Naomi, his child, his hope, and shed tears and\nblessings on my head, as the sole survivor of his illustrious line.\u201d She\nburst into tears.\n\nThe recollection of the good and heroic high priest was strong with us\nboth, and in silence I suffered her sorrows to have their way. A faint\necho of horns and voices roused me.\n\n\u201cLook to the hills!\u201d I exclaimed, as I saw a long black line creeping,\nlike a march of ants, down the side of a distant ridge of sand.\n\n\u201cThose are our Arabs,\u201d said she, without a change of countenance. \u201cThey\nare, of course, coming to see what the angel, or demon, who visited them\nto-day has left in witness of his presence. But from what I overheard of\ntheir terrors, no Arab will venture near the tents till night; night, the\ngeneral veil of the iniquities of this amusing and very wicked world.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet how shall we traverse the sands on foot?\u201d\n\n\u201cForbid it, the spirit of romance,\u201d said she. \u201cI must see whether the\ngallantry of the sheik has not provided against that misfortune.\u201d\n\nShe flew into the tent, and, drawing back a curtain, showed me two mares,\nof the most famous breed of Arabia.\n\n[Sidenote: The Spirited Steeds]\n\n\u201cHere are the Koshlani,\u201d said she, with playful malice dancing in her\neyes; \u201cI saw them brought in, in triumph, last night, stolen from the\npastures of Achmet Ben Ali himself, first horse-stealer and prince of\nthe Bedouins, who is doubtless by this time half dead of grief at the\nloss of the two gems of his stud. I heard the achievement told with great\nrejoicings, and a very curious specimen of dexterity it was. Come forth,\u201d\nsaid she, leading out two beautiful animals, white as milk; \u201ccome forth,\nyou two lovely orphans of the true breed of Solomon\u2014princesses with\npedigrees that put kings to shame, unless they can go back two thousand\nyears; birds of the Bedouin, with wings to your feet, stars for eyes, and\nten times the sense of your masters in your little tossing heads.\u201d\n\nShe sprang upon her courser, and winded it with the delight of practised\nskill. The Arabs were now but a few miles off and in full gallop toward\nus. I urged her to ride away at once, but she continued curveting and\nmaneuvering her spirited steed, that, enjoying the free air of the desert\nafter having been shut up so long, threw up its red nostrils and bounded\nlike a stag.\n\n\u201cA moment yet,\u201d said she; \u201cI have not quite done with the Arab. It is\ncertainly bad treatment for his hospitality to have plundered him of his\ndinner, his money, and his horses.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd of his captive, a loss beyond all reparation.\u201d\n\n\u201cI perfectly believe so,\u201d was the laughing answer; \u201cbut I have been\nthinking of making him a reparation which any Arab on earth would think\nworth even my charms. I have been contriving how to make his fortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy returning his shekels?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a grain of them shall he ever see. No, he shall not have the sorrow\nto think that he entertained only a princess and a philosopher. As a\nspirit you came, and as a spirit you shall depart, and he shall have the\nhonor of telling the tale. The national stories of such matters are worn\nout; he shall have a new one of his own, and every emir in the kingdoms\nof Ishmael\u2014through the fiery sands of Ichama, the riverless mountains\nof Nejd; Hejaz, the country of flies and fools; and Yemen, the land of\nlocusts, lawyers, and merchants, will rejoice to have him at his meal.\nThus the man\u2019s fortune is made, for there is no access to the heart like\nthat of being necessary to the dinners and dulness of the mighty.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr on the strength of the wonder,\u201d said I, \u201che may make wonders of\nhis own, turn charlatan of the first magnitude, profess to cure the\nincurable, and get solid gold for empty pretension; sell health to the\nepicure, gaiety to the old, and charms to the repulsive; defy the course\nof nature, and live like a prince upon the exhaustless revenue of human\nabsurdity.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Blazing Tents]\n\nA cloud of smoke now wreathed up from the sheik\u2019s tent; fire followed;\nand even while we looked on, the wind, carrying the burning fragments,\nset the whole camp in a blaze. The Arabs gave a universal shriek and fled\nback, scattering with gestures and cries of terror through the sands.\n\n\u201cThere\u2014there,\u201d said my companion, clapping her delicate white palms in\nexultation; \u201clet them beware of making women captives in future. In my\nfinal visit to the tent I put a firebrand into the very bundle of carpets\nin which I played the part of slave.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to be your representative, I presume.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Forward!]\n\n\u201cYes, with only the distinction that in time I should have been much the\nmore perilous of the two. If that unlucky sheik had dared to keep me a\nweek longer in his detestable tent, I should have raised a rebellion in\nthe tribe, dethroned him, and turned princess on my own account. As to\nburning him out, there was no remedy. But for those flames the tribe\nwould have been upon our road. But for those flames we might even have\nbeen mistaken for mere mortals; and your spirits always vanish as we do,\nin fire and smoke. How nobly those tents blaze! Now, forward!\u201d\n\nShe gave the reins to her barb, flung a triumphant gesture toward the\nburning camp, and under cover of a huge sheet of fiery vapor we darted\ninto the wilderness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII\n\n_Before Masada_\n\n\nOur flight lay toward Masada. The stars were brilliant guides, and the\ncoolness of the Arabian night, which forms so singular a contrast to the\noverpowering ardors of the day, relieved us from the chief obstacle of\ndesert travel. At daybreak we reached a tract, whose broken and burnt-up\nground showed that there had lately encamped the army the sound of whose\nmarch had startled my reveries in the island.\n\nIt was evening when I caught the glimpse of the fortress. My heart\ntrembled at the sight. An impression of evil was upon me. Yet I must go\non or die.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said I, \u201cyou see my home, and yours while you desire it. You\nwill find friends delighted to receive you, and a protection that neither\nRoman nor Arab can insult. Heaven grant that all may be as when I left\nMasada!\u201d\n\nThe fair girl gratefully thanked me.\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi\u2019s Gratitude]\n\n\u201cI have been long,\u201d said she, \u201cunused to kindness, and its voice\noverpowers me. But if the duty, the gratitude, the faithful devotedness\nof the orphan to her generous preserver can deserve protection, I shall\nyet have some claim. Suffer me to be your daughter.\u201d\n\nShe bowed her head before me with filial reverence. I took the\noutstretched hand, that quivered in mine, and pressed it to my lips.\nThe sacred compact was pledged in the sight of the stars. More formal\ntreaties have been made, but few sincerer.\n\nWe rapidly advanced to the foot of the ridge that, now defining and\nextending, showed its well-known features in all their rugged grandeur.\nBut to come within reach of the gates, I had still one of the huge\nbuttresses of the mountain to go round. My companion, with the quick\nsympathy that makes one of the finest charms of women, already shared in\nmy ominous fears, and rode by my side without a word. My eyes were fixed\non the ground. I was roused by a clash of warlike music. The suspense was\nterribly at an end.\n\n[Sidenote: Signs of Defeat]\n\nThe spears of a legion were moving in a glittering line down the farther\ndeclivity. Squadrons of horses in marching order were drawn up on the\nplain. The baggage of a little army lay under the eye, waiting for the\nescort now descending from the fortress. The story of my ruin was told in\nthat single glance. All was lost!\n\nThe walls of the citadel, breached in every direction, gave signs of a\nlong siege. The White Stag of Naphtali no longer lifted its blazon on the\nbattlements; dismantling and desolation were there. But what horrors must\nhave been wrought before the Romans could shake the strength of those\nwalls!\n\nFirst and most fearful, what had been the fate of Miriam and my children?\nIn what grave was I to look for my noble brother and my kinsmen?\n\nConscious that to stay was to give myself and my trembling companion to\nthe cruel mercy of Rome, I yet was unable to leave the spot. I hovered\nround it, as the spirit might hover round the tomb. Maddening with bitter\nyearnings of heart, that intense eagerness to know the worst which is\nnext to despair, I spurred up the steep by an obscure path that led me\nto a postern. There was no sound within. I dashed through the streets.\nNot a living being was to be seen; piles of firewood lighted under\nthe principal buildings and at the gates showed that the fortress was\ndestined to immediate overthrow. War had done its worst. The broad,\nsanguine plashes on the pavements showed that the battle had been fought,\nlong and desperately, within the walls. The famous armory was a heap of\nashes. Ditches dug across the streets and strewed with broken weapons,\nand the white remnants of what once was man; walls raised within walls,\nand now broken down; stately houses loopholed and turned into little\nfortresses; fragments of noble architecture blocking up the breaches;\ngraves dug in every spot where the spade could open a few feet of ground;\nfragments of superb furniture lying half burnt where the defenders had\nbeen forced out by conflagration\u2014all gave sad evidence of the struggle of\nbrave men against overpowering numbers.\n\nBut where were they who had made the prize so dear to the conquerors? Was\nI treading on the clay that once breathed patriotism and love? Did the\nwreck on which I leaned, as I gazed round this mighty mausoleum, cover\nthe earthly tenement of my kinsmen, and, still dearer, the last of my\nname? Was I treading on the grave of those gentle and lovely natures for\nwhose happiness I would rejoicingly have laid down the scepter of the\nworld?\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Meets Jubal]\n\nIn my agitation I cried aloud. My voice rang through the solitude round\nme, and returned on the ear with a startling distinctness. But living\nsounds suddenly mingled with the echo. A low groan came from a pile of\nruins beside me. I listened, as one might listen for an answer from the\nsepulcher. The voice was heard again. A few stones from the shattered\nwall gave way, and I saw thrust out the withered, bony hand of a human\nbeing. I tore down the remaining impediments, and beheld pale, emaciated,\nand at the point of death by famine, my friend, my fellow soldier, my\nfellow sufferer\u2014Jubal!\n\nJoy is sometimes as dangerous as sorrow. He gave a glance of recognition,\nstruggled forward, and, uttering a wild cry, fell senseless into my arms.\nOn his recovering, before I could ask him the question nearest my heart,\nit was answered.\n\n\u201cThey are safe\u2014all safe,\u201d said he. \u201cOn the landing of fresh troops\nfrom Italy, the first efforts of the legions were directed against the\nfortress. The pirates, in return for the victory to which you led them,\nhad set me at liberty. I made my way through the enemy\u2019s posts; Eleazar,\never generous and noble, received me, after all my wanderings, with the\nheart of a father, and we determined on defending this glorious trophy\nof your heroism, to the last man. But with the wisdom that never failed\nhim, he knew what must be the result, and at the very commencement of the\nsiege sent your family away to Alexandria, where they might be sure of\nprotection from our kindred.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Family]\n\n\u201cAnd they went by sea?\u201d I asked shudderingly, while the whole terrible\ntruth dawned upon my mind. They were in the fleet which I had followed.\n\n\u201cIt was the only course. The country was filled with the enemy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen they are lost! Wretched father, now no father!\u2014man marked by\ndestiny!\u2014the blow has fallen at last! They perished\u2014I saw them perish.\nTheir dying shrieks rang in these ears. I was their destroyer. From first\nto last I have been their undoing!\u201d\n\nJubal looked on me with astonishment. My adopted daughter, without any\nidle attempt at consolation, only bathed my hand with her tears.\n\n\u201cThere must be some misconception in all this,\u201d said Jubal. \u201cBefore we\nleft that accursed dungeon, they had embarked with a crowd of females\nfrom the surrounding country in one of the annual fleets for Egypt.\nBefore we sailed from the pirates\u2019 cavern they were probably safe in\nAlexandria.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! I saw them perish. I heard their dying cry. I drove them to\ndestruction,\u201d was the only answer that my withering lips could utter.\nI remembered the horrors of the storm; the desperate efforts of the\nmerchant galley to escape; its fatal disappearance. Faintly, and with\nmany a successive agony, I gave the melancholy reasons for my belief. My\nauditors listened with fear and trembling.\n\n\u201cThere is now no use in sorrow,\u201d said Jubal sternly, \u201cand as little in\nstruggle. I too have lived until the light that brightened my dreary\nhours is extinguished. I too have known the extremities of passion. If\nsuffering could have atoned for my offenses, I have suffered. A thousand\nyears of existence could not teach me more. Here let us die.\u201d\n\nHe unsheathed his poniard.\n\nMy young companion, in the anxiety of the moment, forgetting the presence\nof a stranger, flung back the veil which had hitherto covered her face\nand figure, and clasping my raised arm, said in a tone so low, yet\npenetrating, that it seemed the whisper of my own conscience:\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi\u2019s Reprimand]\n\n\u201cHas death no fears?\u201d She fixed her eyes on me and waited breathlessly\nfor the answer.\n\n\u201cDaughter of beauty,\u201d said Jubal, as a smile of admiration played on his\nsad features, \u201cthoughts like ours are not for the lovely and the young.\nMay the Heaven that has stamped that countenance be your protection\nthrough many a year! But to the weary, rest is happiness, not terror.\nPrince of Naphtali, this fair maiden\u2019s presence forbids darker thoughts;\nwe must speed her on her way to security before we can think of ourselves\nand our misfortunes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe daughter of Ananus,\u201d said she, in atone of heroic pride, \u201chas no\nearthly fears. The boldest warrior of Israel never died more boldly\nthan that venerable parent. Within his sacred robes was the heart of a\nsoldier, a patriot, and a king. Let me die for a cause like his; at the\nfoot of the altar, let my blood be poured out for my country; let this\nfeeble form sink in the ruins of the Temple, and death will be of all\nwelcome things the most welcome. But I would not die for a fantasy, for\nidleness, for nothing. Put up that weapon, warrior, and let us go forth\nand see whether great things are not yet to be done.\u201d\n\nShe significantly pointed toward Jerusalem.\n\n\u201cIt is too late,\u201d said Jubal, glancing with a sigh at his own wasted form.\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d said the heroine; \u201cis it too late to be virtuous, but not too\nlate to be guilty? Too late to resist the enemies of our country, but not\ntoo late to make ourselves worthless to our holy cause? If Heaven demands\nan account of every wasted talent and misspent hour, what fearful account\nwill be theirs who make all talents and all hours useless at a blow?\u201d\n\n\u201cMaiden, you have not known what it is to lose everything that made\nearth a place of hope,\u201d said I, gazing with wonder and pity on the fine\nenthusiasm that the world is so fatally empowered to destroy. \u201cMay not\nthe tired traveler hasten to the end of his journey without a crime?\u201d\n\n\u201cMay not the slave,\u201d said Jubal, \u201cweary of his chain, escape unchidden\nfrom his captivity?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Words of Wisdom]\n\n\u201cAnd may not the soldier quit his post when caprice disgusts him with\nhis duty?\u201d was the maiden\u2019s answer, with a lofty look. \u201cOr, may not the\nchild break loose from the place of instruction and plead his dislike\nto discipline? As well may man, placed here for the service of the\nhighest of beings, plead his own narrow will against the supreme command,\ndaringly charge Heaven with the injustice of setting him a task above his\nstrength, and madly insult Its power under the pretext of relying on Its\ncompassion.\u201d\n\nShe paused, as if surprised at her own earnestness, and blushing, said:\n\u201cThis wisdom is not my own. It was the last gift of an illustrious\nparent, when in my agony at the sight of his mortal wounds I longed to\nfollow him. \u2018Live,\u2019 said he, \u2018while you can live with virtue. The God\nwho has placed us on earth best knows when and how to recall us. If\nself-destruction were no crime in one instance, it would be no crime\nto universal mankind; the whole frame of society would be overthrown\nby a permission to evade its duties on the easy penalty of dying. Our\nobligations to country, family, man, and Heaven would be perpetually\nflung off, if they were to be held at the caprice of human nature.\u2019\u201d\n\nJubal looked intently on the young oracle, and tho bending with Oriental\ndeference, was yet unconvinced.\n\n\u201cIs there to be no end to the mind\u2019s anxiety but the tardy decay of the\nframe? Is there no time for the return of the exile, or what is this very\nfeeling of despair but a voice within\u2014an unwritten command to die?\u201d\n\nNaomi turned to me with a look imploring my aid. But I was broken down by\nthe tidings that had now reached me. Jubal wrapped his cloak round him,\nand was striding into the shadow of the ruin. Naomi, terrified at the\nidea of death, seized the corner of his mantle.\n\n\u201cWill you shrink from the evils of life,\u201d she adjured, \u201cand yet have the\ndreadful courage to defy the wrath of Heaven? Shall worms like us, shall\ncreatures covered with weaknesses and sins, whose only hope must be in\nmercy, commit a crime that by its very nature disclaims supplication and\nmakes repentance impossible?\u201d\n\nWith the energy of terror she threw back the folds of the cloak and\narrested the hand, with the dagger already uplifted. She led back the\nreluctant, yet unresisting, step, and said in a voice still trembling:\n\u201cPrince of Naphtali, save your brother!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi\u2019s Triumph]\n\nI held out my arms to Jubal; the sternness of his soul was past, and\nhe fell upon my neck. Naomi stood, exulting in her triumph, with the\ncountenance that an angel might wear at the return of a sinner.\n\n\u201cPrince of Naphtali,\u201d said she, \u201cif those who were dear to you have\nperished\u2014which Heaven avert!\u2014you may have been thus but the more marked\nout for the instrument of solemn services to Israel. The virtues that\nmight have languished in the happiness of home may be summoned into vigor\nfor mankind. Warrior,\u201d and she turned her glowing smile on Jubal, \u201cthis\nis not the time for valor and experience to shrink from the side of our\ncountry. Perfidy may still be repelled by patriotism; violence put down\nby wisdom; the power of the people roused by the example of a hero; even\nthe last spark of life may be made splendid by mingling with the last\nglories of the people of God.\u201d\n\nJubal\u2019s wasted cheek reddened with the theme; but his emotion was too\ndeep for language. He led the way; we passed in silence through the\ndeserted streets, and without seeing the face of a human being, reached\nthe dismantled gates of Masada.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV\n\n_Among Roman Soldiers_\n\n\nJubal guided us down the declivities among ramparts and trenches, and\nafter long windings, where every step reminded me of havoc, brought us\nto a little hamlet in the recesses of the valley, so secluded that it\nseemed never to have heard the sound of war. The thunder of the falling\nmasses of fortification, as the fire reached their props, kept us awake\nall night, and I arose from my humble couch to breathe the delicious air\nthat makes the summer night of Asia the time of refreshment alike to the\nframe and to the mind. I found Jubal already abroad and gazing on the\nsummit of the mountain, where the sullen glare of the sky and the crash\nof buildings showed that the work of devastation was rapidly going on.\n\n[Sidenote: Details of a Siege]\n\nHe gave me some details of the siege. The Romans had found the fortress\nso hazardous to the advance of their reenforcements that its possession\nwas essential to the conquest of Judea. Cestius, my old antagonist,\nsolicited the command to wipe off his disgrace, and the whole force\nof the legions was brought up. But the generalship of Eleazar and the\nintrepidity of the garrison baffled every assault, with tremendous loss\nof the enemy. The siege was next turned into a blockade. Famine and\ndisease were more formidable than the sword; and the brave defenders were\nreduced to a number scarcely able to man the walls.\n\n\u201cWe now,\u201d said Jubal, \u201cfought the battle of despair; we saw the enemy\u2019s\ncamp crowded every day with fresh troops, and the provisions of the\nwhole country brought among them in profusion, while we had not a morsel\nto eat, while our fountains ran dry, and while our few troops were\nharassed with mortal fatigue. Yet no man thought of surrender. Eleazar\u2019s\ncourage\u2014a courage sustained by higher thoughts than those of the\nsoldier, the fortitude of piety and prayer\u2014inspired us all, and we went\nto our melancholy duties with the calmness of men to whom the grave was\ninevitable.\n\n[Sidenote: The Final Attack]\n\n\u201cAt last, when our reduced numbers gave the enemy a hope, we were\nattacked by their whole force. But, if they expected to conquer us at\ntheir ease, never were they more deceived. When the walls gave way before\ntheir machines, they were fought from street to street, from house to\nhouse, from chamber to chamber. Eleazar, as active as he was wise, was\neverywhere; we fought in ruins\u2014in fire. Multitudes of the enemy perished,\nand more deaths were given by the knife than the spear, for our arms were\nlong since exhausted. The last effort was made on the spot where you\nfound me. When every defense was mastered by the constant supply of fresh\ntroops, Eleazar, passing through the subterranean to attack the Roman\nrear, left me in command of the few who survived. We entrenched ourselves\nin the armory. For three days we fought without tasting food, without an\nhour\u2019s sleep, without laying the weapons out of our hands. At length the\nfinal assault was given. In the midst of it we heard shouts which told\nus that our friends had made the concerted attack, but we were too few\nand feeble to second it. The shouts died away; we were overpowered, and\nmy first sensation of returning life was the combined agony of famine,\nwounds, and suffocation, under the ruins that I then thought my living\ngrave.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy dawn,\u201d said I, \u201cwe must set out for Jerusalem.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has been closely invested,\u201d was the answer, \u201cfor the last three\nmonths;[42] and famine and faction are doing their worst within the\nwalls. Titus is without, at the head of a hundred thousand of the\nlegionaries and auxiliaries. To enter will be next to impossible, and\nwhen once entered, what will be before you but the madness of civil\ndiscord, and finally, death by the hands of an enemy utterly infuriated\nagainst our nation?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Jerusalem, at all risks,\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cmy fate is mingled with that\nof the last stronghold of our fallen people. What matters it to one whose\nroots of happiness are cut up like mine, in what spot he struggles\nwith man and fortune? As a son of Judea my powers are due to her cause,\nand every drop of my blood, shed for any other, would be treason to the\nmemory of my fathers. The dawn finds me on my way to Jerusalem.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpoken like a prince of Naphtali,\u201d sighed Jubal; \u201cbut there I must not\nfollow you. The course of glory is cut off for me; alone, something may\nstill be done by collecting the fugitives of the tribes and harassing\nthe Roman communications. But Jerusalem, tho every stone of her walls\nis precious to my soul, must not receive my guilty steps. I have horrid\nrecollections of things seen and done there. Onias, that wily hypocrite,\nwill be there to fill me with visions of terror. There, too, are others.\u201d\nHe was silent, but suddenly resuming his firmness: \u201cI have no hostility\nto Constantius; I even honor him; but my spirit is still too feverish\nto bear his presence\u2014I must live and die, far from all whom I have ever\nknown.\u201d\n\nHe hid his face in his mantle, but the agitation of his form showed his\nanguish, more than clamorous grief. He walked forth into the darkness. I\nwas ignorant of his purpose, and lingered long for his return\u2014I saw him\nno more.\n\n[Sidenote: The Arrival of Roman Cavalry]\n\nDisturbed and pained by his loss, I had scarcely thrown myself on the\ncottage floor, my only bed, when I was roused by the cries of the\nvillage. A squadron of Roman cavalry marching to Jerusalem had entered,\nand was taking up its quarters for the night. The peasantry could make\nno resistance, and attempted none. I had only time to call to my adopted\ndaughter to rise, when our hut was occupied and we were made prisoners.\n\nThis was an unexpected blow; yet it was one to which, on second thoughts,\nI became reconciled. In the disturbed state of the country, traveling\nwas totally insecure, and even to obtain a conveyance of any kind was a\nmatter of extreme difficulty. The roving plunderers who hovered in the\ntrain of the camp were, of all plunderers, the most merciless; while,\nfalling into the hands of the legionaries, we were at least sure of an\nescort; I might obtain some useful information of their affairs, and\nonce in sight of the city, might escape from the Roman lines with more\nease as a prisoner than I could pass them as an enemy.\n\nThe cavalry moved at daybreak, and before night we saw in the horizon\nthe hills which surround Jerusalem. We had full evidence of our approach\nto the center of struggle by the devastation that follows the track\nof the best-disciplined army\u2014groves and orchards cut down, cornfields\ntrampled, cottages burned, gardens and homesteads ravaged. Farther on, we\ntraversed the encampments of the auxiliaries, barbarians of every color\nand language within the limits of the mightiest of empires.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Views the Soldier of Barbarism]\n\nTo the soldier of civilized nations, war is a new state of existence; to\nthe soldier of barbarism, war is but a more active species of his daily\nlife. It requires no divorce from his old habits, and even encourages his\nold objects, cares, and pleasures. We found the Arab, the German, the\nScythian, and the Ethiop hunting, carousing, trafficking, and quarreling,\nas if they had never stirred from their native regions. The hordes\nbrought with them their families, their cattle, and their trade. In the\nrear of every auxiliary camp was a regular mart crowded with all kinds of\ndealers. Through the fields the barbarians were following the sports of\nhome. Trains of falconers were flying their birds at the wild pigeon and\nheron. Half-naked horsemen were running races, without saddle or rein,\non horses as wild and swift as the antelope. Groups were lying under\nthe palm-groves asleep, with their spears fixed at their heads; others\nwere seen busily decorating themselves for battle; crowds were dancing,\ngaming, and drinking.\n\nAs we advanced, we could hear the variety of clamors and echoes that\nbelong to barbarian war\u2014the braying of savage horns, the roars of mirth,\nrage, and feasting; the shouts of clans moving up to reenforce the\nbesiegers; the screams and lamentations of the innumerable women, as\nthe wains and litters brought back the wounded; the barbarian howlings\nover the hasty grave of some chieftain; the ferocious revelry of the\ndiscoverers of plunder, and the inextinguishable sorrows of the captives.\n\nWe passed through some miles of this boisterous and bustling scene,\nin which even a Roman escort was scarcely a sufficient security. The\nbarbarians thronged round us, brandished their spears over our heads,\nrode their horses full gallop against us, and exhausted the whole\nlanguage of scorn, ridicule, and wrath upon our helpless condition.\n\nBut the clamor gradually died away, and we entered upon another region,\u2014a\nzone of silence and solitude interposed between the dangerous riot of\nbarbarism and the severe regularity of the legions. Far within this\ncircle, we reached the Roman camp\u2014the world of disciplined war! The\nsetting sun threw a flame on the long vistas of shield and helmet drawn\nout, according to custom, for the hour of exercise before nightfall. The\ntribunes were on horseback in front of the cohorts, putting them through\nthat boundless variety of admirable movements in which no soldiery were\nso dexterous as those of Rome.\n\n[Sidenote: The Perfection of Discipline]\n\nBut all was done with characteristic silence. No sound was heard but\nthe measured tramp of the maneuver and the voice of the tribune. The\nsight was at once absorbing to the eye of one like me, an enthusiast in\nsoldiership, and appalling to the lover of his country. Before me was the\ngreat machine, the resistless energy that had leveled the strength of the\nmost renowned kingdoms. With the feeling of a man who sees the tempest at\nhand, in the immediate terror of the bolt, I could yet gaze with wonder\nand admiration at the grandeur of the thunder-cloud! Before me was at\nonce the perfection of power and the perfection of discipline. Here were\nno rambling crowds of retainers, no hurrying of troops startled by sudden\nrumor, no military clamors. All was calm, regular, and grand. In the\ncenter of the most furious war ever waged, I might have thought that I\nsaw but a summer camp in an Italian plain.\n\nAs the night fell, the legions saluted the parting sun with homage,\naccording to a custom which they had learned in their eastern campaigns.\nSounds less of war than of worship arose; flutes breathed in low and\nsweet harmonies from the lines; and this iron soldiery, bound on the\nbusiness of extermination, moved to their tents in the midst of strains\nmade to wrap the heart in softness and solemnity.\n\nI rose at dawn. But was I in a land of enchantment? I looked for the\nimmense camp\u2014it had vanished. A few soldiers collecting the prisoners\nsleeping about the field were all that remained of an army. Our guard\nexplained the wonder. An attack on the trenches, in which the besiegers\nhad been driven in with serious loss, determined Titus to bring up his\nwhole force. The troops had moved with that habitual silence which eluded\nalmost the waking ear. They were now beyond the hills, and the hour was\ncome when the prisoners were ordered to follow them. But where was the\ndaughter of Ananus? I had placed her in a tent with some captive females\nof our nation. The tent was struck, and its inmates were gone! On the\nspot where it stood a flock of sheep were already grazing, with a Roman\nsoldier leaning drowsily on his spear for their shepherd.\n\nTo what alarms might not this fair girl be exposed? Dubious and\ndistressed, I followed the guard, in the hope of discovering the fate\nof an innocent and lovely being, who seemed, like myself, marked for\nmisfortune.\n\n[Sidenote: The Equipment of Soldiers]\n\nIn this march we traversed almost the whole circuit of the hills\nsurrounding Jerusalem, and I thus had, for three days, the opportunity\nthat I longed for, of seeing the nature of the force with which we were\nto contend. The troops were admirably armed. There was nothing for\nsuperfluity; yet those who conceived the system knew the value of show,\nand the equipment of the legions was superb. The helmets, cuirasses, and\nswords were frequently inlaid with precious metals, and the superior\nofficers rode richly caparisoned chargers, purchased at an enormous price\nfrom the finest studs of Europe and Asia. The common soldier was proud of\nthe brightness of his shield and helmet; on duty both were covered, but\non their festivals the most cheering moment was when the order was given\nto uncase their arms. Then nothing could be more magnificent than the\naspect of the legion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Methods of Warriors]\n\nOne striking source of its pomp was the multitude of its banners.\nEvery emblem that mythology could feign, every animal, every memorial\nconnected with the history of soldiership and Rome, glittered above the\nforest of spears. Gilded serpents, wolves, lions, gods, genii, stars,\ndiadems, imperial busts, and the eagle paramount over all, were mingled\nwith vanes of purple and embroidery. The most showy pageant of civil life\nwas dull and colorless to the crowded splendor of the Roman line.\n\nTheir system of maneuver gave this magnificence its full development.\nWith the modern armies the principle is the avoidance of fire. With the\nancient armies the principle was the concentration of force. All was\ndone by impulse. The figure by which the greatest weight could be thrown\nagainst the enemy\u2019s ranks, was the secret of victory. The subtlety of\nItalian imagination, enlightened by Greek science, and fertilized by\nthe experience of universal war, was occupied in the discovery; and the\nfield exercise of the legions displayed every form into which troops\ncould be shaped for victory. The Romans always sought to fight pitched\nbattles. They left the minor services to their allies, and haughtily\nreserved themselves for the master strokes by which empires are lost or\nwon. The humbler hostilities, the obscure skirmishings and surprises,\nthey disdained; observing that, while \u201cto steal upon men was the work of\na thief, and to butcher them was the habit of a barbarian, to fight them\nwas the act of a soldier.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV\n\n_The Reign of the Sword_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Track of Invasion]\n\nAt the close of a weary day we reached our final station, upon the hill\nof Scopas, seven furlongs from Jerusalem. Bitter memory was busy with\nme there. From the spot on which I flung myself in heaviness of heart,\nhuddled among a crowd of miserable captives, and wishing only that the\nevening gathering over me might be my last, I had once looked upon the\narmy of the oppressors marching into my toils and exulted in the secure\nglories of myself and my country.\n\nBut the prospect now beneath the eye showed only the fiery track of\ninvasion. The pastoral beauty of the plain was utterly gone. The\ninnumerable garden-houses and summer dwellings of the Jewish nobles,\ngleaming in every variety of graceful architecture, among vineyards and\ndepths of aromatic foliage, were leveled to the ground; and the gardens\nwere turned into a sandy waste, cut up by trenches and military works\nin every direction. In the midst rose the great Roman rampart, which\nTitus, in despair of conquering the city by the sword, drew round it,\nto extinguish its last hope of provisions or reenforcements\u2014a hideous\nboundary, within which all was to be the sepulcher.\n\nI now saw Jerusalem only in her expiring struggle.[43] Others have given\nthe history of that most memorable siege. My knowledge was limited\nto the last hideous days of an existence long declining, and finally\nextinguished in horrors beyond the imagination of man.\n\n[Sidenote: A Fight in a Tempest]\n\nI knew her follies, her ingratitude, her crimes; but the love of the city\nof David was deep in my soul; her lofty privileges, the proud memory of\nthose who had made her courts glorious, the sage, the soldier, and the\nprophet, lights of the world, to which the boasted illumination of the\nheathen was darkness, filled my spirit with an immortal homage. I loved\nher then\u2014I love her still.\n\nTo mingle my blood with that of my perishing country was the first wish\nof my heart. But I was under the rigor of the confinement inflicted on\nthe Jewish prisoners. My rank was soon known; but while it produced\noffers of new distinction from my captors, it increased their vigilance.\nTo every temptation I gave the same denial, and occupied my hours\nin devices for escape. Meanwhile I saw with terror that the wall of\ncircumvallation was closing, and that a short period must place an\nimpassable barrier between me and the city.\n\nI was aroused at midnight by the roaring of one of those tempests which\nsometimes break in so fiercely upon an Eastern summer. The lightning\nstruck the tower in which I was confined, and I found myself riding on a\npile of ruins. Escape, in the midst of a Roman camp, seemed as remote as\never. But the storm which shook walls made its way at will among tents,\nand the whole encampment was broken up. A column of infantry passed where\nI was extricating myself from the ruins. They were going to reenforce\nthe troops in the trenches, against the chance of an attack during\nthe tempest. I followed them. The night was terrible. The lightning\nthat blazed with frightful vividness, and then left the sky to tenfold\nobscurity, alone led us through the lines. The column was too late, and\nit found the besieged already mounted upon the wall of circumvallation,\nand flinging it down in huge fragments. The assault and defense were\nalike desperate. At the moment of our arrival the night had grown pitchy\ndark, and the only evidence that men were round me was the clang of arms.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Rescues Constantius]\n\nA sudden flash showed me that we had reached the foot of the rampart.\nThe besieged, carried away by their native impetuosity, poured down in\ncrowds. Their leader, cheering them on, was struck by a lance and fell.\nThe sight rallied the Romans. I felt that now or never was the moment\nfor my escape. I rushed in front, and called aloud my name. At the voice\nthe wounded leader uttered a cry which I well knew. I caught him from\nthe ground. A gigantic centurion darted forward and grasped my robe.\nEmbarrassed with my burden, I was on the point of being dragged back; the\ncenturion\u2019s sword glittered over my head. With my only weapon, a stone, I\nstruck him a furious blow on the forehead. The sword fell from his grasp;\nI seized it, and keeping the rest at bay, and in the midst of shouts from\nmy countrymen, leaped the trench, with the nobler trophy in my arms\u2014I had\nrescued Constantius!\n\nJerusalem was now verging on the last horrors. I could scarcely find\nmy way through her ruins. The noble buildings were destroyed by\nconflagration and the assaults of the various factions. The monuments of\nour kings and tribes were lying in mutilation at my feet. Every man of\nformer eminence was gone. Massacre and exile had been the masters of the\nhigher ranks; and even the accidental distinctions into which the humbler\nwere thrown by the few past years, involved a fearful purchase of public\nhazard. Like men in an earthquake, the elevation of each was only a sign\nto him of the working of an irresistible principle of ruin. But the most\nformidable characteristic was the change wrought in the popular mind.\n\nA single revolution may be a source of public good, but a succession of\ngreat political changes is always fatal, alike to public and private\nvirtue. The sense of honor dies in the fierce pressures of personal\nstruggle. Humanity dies in the sight of hourly violences. Conscience\ndies in the conflict where personal safety is so often endangered that\nits preservation at length usurps the mind. Religion dies where the\nreligious man is so often the victim of the unprincipled. Violence and\nvice are soon found to be the natural instruments of triumph in a war of\nthe passions; and the more relentless atrocity carries the day, until\nselfishness\u2014the mother of treachery, rapine, and carnage\u2014is the paramount\nprinciple. Then the nation perishes, or is sent forth in madness and\nmisery, an object of terror and infection, to propagate evil through the\nworld.\n\n[Sidenote: The Wrecks of Pillage]\n\nThe very features of the popular physiognomy were changed. The natural\nvividness of the countenance was there, but hardened by habitual\nferocity. I was surrounded by a multitude, in each of whom I was\ncompelled to see the assassin. The keen eye scowled with cruelty; the\ncheek wore the alternate flush and paleness of desperate thoughts. The\nhurried gatherings, the quick quarrel, the loud blasphemy, told me the\ninfuriate temper that had fallen, for the last curse, on Jerusalem.\nScarcely a man passed me of whom I could not have said: \u201cThere goes one\nfrom a murder or to a murder.\u201d\n\nBut even more open evidences startled me, accustomed as I was to scenes\nof military violence. I saw men stabbed in familiar greetings in the\nstreets; mansions set on fire and burned in the face of day, with their\ninmates screaming for help, and yet unhelped; hundreds slain in rabble\ntumults, of which no one knew the origin. The streets were covered with\nthe wrecks of pillage, sumptuous furniture plundered from the mansions of\nthe great, and plundered for the mere love of ruin; mingled with the more\nhideous wrecks of man\u2014unburied bodies, left to whiten in the blast or to\nbe torn by the dogs.\n\nThree factions divided Jerusalem, even while the Roman battering-rams\nwere shaking her colossal towers; three armies fought night and day\nwithin the city. Streets undermined, houses battered down, granaries\nburned, wells poisoned, the perpetual shower of death upon each other\nfrom the roofs, made the external hostility trivial; and the Romans\nrequired only patience to have been bloodless masters of a city which yet\nthey would have found only a tomb of its people.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI had rescued Constantius.\u201d\n\n [_see page 355._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Apostrophizes]\n\nI wandered day by day, an utter stranger, through Jerusalem. All the\nfamiliar faces were gone. At an early period of the war, many of the\nhigher ranks, foreseeing the event, had left the city; at a later, my\nvictory over Cestius, by driving back the enemy, had given a free passage\nto a crowd of others. It was at that time remarked that the crowd were\nchiefly Christians, and a singular prophecy of their Master was declared\nto be the warning of their escape. It is certain that of His followers,\nincluding many even of our priests and learned men, scarcely one\nremained.[44] They said that the evil day, menaced by the divine Wisdom,\nthrough Moses (may he rest in glory!) was come; that the death of their\nMaster was the consummate crime; and that the Romans, the predicted\nnation of destroyers, the people \u201cof a strange speech,\u201d flying on \u201ceagle\nwings from the ends of the earth,\u201d were already commissioned against a\nland stained with the blood of the Messiah.\n\nFatally was the word of the great prophet of Israel accomplished;\nfearfully fell the sword, to smite away root and branch; solemnly, and\nby a hand which scorned the strength of man, was the deluge of ruin let\nloose against the throne of David. And still through almost two thousand\nyears, the flood of desolation is at the full; no mountain-top is seen\nrising above; no spot is left clear for the sole of the Jewish foot; no\ndove returns with the olive.\n\nEternal King, shall this be forever? Wilt Thou utterly reject the\nchildren of him whom thy right hand brought from the land of the\nidolater? Wilt Thou forever hide Thy glory from the tribes whom it led\nthrough the burning wilderness? Wilt Thou never raise the broken kingdom\nof Thy servant Israel? Still we wander in darkness, the tenants of a\nprison, whose chains we feel at every step; the scoff of the idolater,\nthe captive of the infidel. Have we not abided without king or priest, or\nephod or teraphim, \u201cmany days\u201d\u2014when are those days to be at an end?\n\nYet is not the captivity at last about to close? Is not the trumpet at\nthe lip to summon Thy chosen? Are not the broken tribes now awaiting\nbut Thy command to come from the desert, from the dungeon, from the\nmine, like the light from darkness? I gaze upon the stars and think,\ncountless and glorious as they are, such shall yet be thy multitude and\nthy splendor, people of the undone! The promise of the King of Kings is\nfulfilling, and even now, to my withered eyes, to my struggling prayer,\nto the deeper agonies of a supplication that no tongue can utter, there\nis a vision and an answer. On the flint, worn by kneeling, I hear the\nmidnight voice; and weeping, wait for the day that will come, tho heaven\nand earth shall pass away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI\n\n_A Cry of Wo_\n\n\nMy first object was to ascertain the fate of my family. From Constantius\nI could learn nothing, for the severity of his wound had reduced him\nto such a state that he recognized no one. I sat by him day after\nday, watching with bitter solicitude for the return of his senses. He\nraved continually of his wife, and of every other name that I loved.\nThe affecting eloquence of his appeals sometimes plunged me into the\ndeepest depression\u2014sometimes drove me out to seek relief from them,\neven in the horrors of the streets. I was the most solitary of men. In\nthose melancholy wanderings, none spoke to me; I spoke to none. The\nkinsmen whom I had left under the command of my brave son were slain or\ndispersed, and on the night when I saw him warring with his native ardor,\nthe men whom he led to the foot of the rampart were an accidental band,\nexcited by his brilliant intrepidity to choose him at the instant for\ntheir captain. In sorrow, indeed, had I entered Jerusalem.\n\n[Sidenote: The Devastation of Jerusalem]\n\nThe devastation of the city was enormous during its tumults. The great\nfactions were reduced to two, but in the struggle a large portion of the\nTemple had been burned. The stately chambers of the priests were dust and\nembers. The cloisters which surrounded the sanctuary were beaten down\nor left naked to the visitation of the seasons, which now, as by the\npeculiar wrath of heaven, had assumed a fierce and ominous inclemency.\nTremendous bursts of tempest constantly shook the city, and the popular\nmind was kept in perpetual alarm at the accidents which followed those\nstorms. Fires were frequently caused by the lightning; deluges of rain\nflooded the streets, and falling on the shattered roofs, increased the\nmisery of their famishing inhabitants; the sudden severity of winter in\nthe midst of spring added to the sufferings of a people doubly unprovided\nto encounter it, by its unexpectedness and by their necessary exposure on\nthe battlements and in the field.\n\nWithin the walls all bore the look of a grave, and even that grave shaken\nby some great convulsion of nature. From the battlements the sight was\nabsolute despair. The Roman camps covered the hills, and we could see\nthe soldiery sharpening the very lances that were to drink our blood.\nThe fires of their night-watches lighted up the horizon round. We hourly\nheard the sound of their trumpets and their shouts, as the sheep in the\nfold might hear the roaring of the lion and the tiger, ready to leap\ntheir feeble boundary. Yet the valor of the people was never wearied\nout. The vast mound, whose circle was to shut us up from the help of man\nor the hope of escape, was the grand object of attack and defense; and\ntho thousands of my countrymen covered the ground at its foot with their\ncorpses, the Jew was still ready to rush on the Roman spear. This valor\nwas spontaneous, for subordination had long been at an end. The names\nof John of Giscala, and Simon, influential as they were in the earlier\nperiods of the war, had lost their force in the civil fury and desperate\npressures of the siege. No leaders were acknowledged but hatred of the\nenemy, iron fortitude, and a determination not to survive the fall of\nJerusalem!\n\nIn this furious warfare I took my share with the rest; handled the spear,\nand fought and watched without thinking of any distinction of rank. My\nmilitary experience, and the personal strength which enabled me to render\nprominent services in those desultory attacks, often excited our warriors\nto offer me the command; but ambition was dead within me.\n\n[Sidenote: A Universal Outcry]\n\nI was one day sitting beside the bed of Constantius, and bitterly\nabsorbed in gazing on what I thought the progress of death, when I heard\na universal outcry, more melancholy than human voices seemed ever made\nto utter. My first thought was that the enemy had forced the gates. I\ntook my sword down and prepared to go out and die. I found the streets\nfilled with crowds hurrying forward without any apparent direction, but\nall exhibiting a sorrow amounting to agony; wringing their hands, beating\ntheir bosoms, tearing their hair, and casting dust and ashes on their\nheads. A large body of the priesthood came rushing from the temple with\nloud lamentations. The DAILY SACRIFICE had ceased![45] The perpetual\noffering, which, twice a day, burned in testimonial of the sins and the\nexpiation of Israel, the peculiar homage of the nation to Heaven, was no\nmore! The siege had extinguished the resources of the Temple; the victims\ncould no longer be supplied, and the people must perish without the power\nof atonement! This was the final cutting off\u2014the declaration of the\nsentence\u2014the seal of the great condemnation. Jerusalem was undone!\n\nOverpowered by this fatal sign, I was sadly returning to my worse than\nsolitary chamber, for there lay, speechless and powerless, the noblest\ncreature that breathed in Jerusalem\u2014when I was driven aside by a new\ntorrent of the people, exclaiming \u201cThe prophet! the prophet! wo to the\ncity of David!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Wo, Wo, Wo]\n\nThey rushed on in haggard multitudes, and in the midst of them came\na maniac bounding and gesticulating with indescribable wildness. His\nconstant exclamation was \u201cWo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d uttered in a tone that searched\nthe very heart. He stopped from time to time, flung out some denunciation\nagainst the popular crimes, and then recommenced his cry of \u201cWo!\u201d and\nbounded forward again.\n\nHe at length came opposite to the spot where I stood, and his features\nstruck me as resembling those I had seen before. But they were full of\na strange impulse\u2014the grandeur of inspiration mingled with the animal\nfierceness of frenzy. The eye shot fire under the sharp and hollow brows;\nthe nostrils contracted and opened like those of an angry steed, and\nevery muscle of a singularly elastic frame was quivering and exposed from\nthe effects alike of mental violence and famine.\n\n\u201cHo, Prince of Naphtali! we meet at last!\u201d was his instant outcry. His\ncountenance fell, and tears gushed from lids that looked incapable of a\nhuman feeling. \u201cI found her,\u201d said he, \u201cmy beauty, my bride! She was in\nthe dungeon. The ring that I tore from that villain\u2019s finger was worth a\ngold-mine, for it opened the gates of her prison. Come forth, girl!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Sabat the Ishmaelite]\n\nWith these words he caught by the hand and led to me a pale creature,\nwith the traces of loveliness, but evidently in the last stage of mortal\ndecay. She stood silent as a statue. In compassion, I took her hand,\nwhile the multitude gathered round us in curiosity. I now remembered\nSabat, the Ishmaelite, and his story.\n\n\u201cShe is mad,\u201d said Sabat, shaking his head mournfully, and gazing on the\nfading form at his side. \u201cWorlds would not restore her senses. But there\nis a time for all things.\u201d He sighed, and cast his large eyes on heaven.\n\u201cI watched her day and night,\u201d he went on, \u201cuntil I grew mad too. But the\nworld will have an end, and then\u2014all will be well. Come, wife, we must be\ngoing. To-night there are strange things within the walls, and without\nthe walls. There will be feasting and mourning; there will be blood and\ntears; then comes the famine\u2014then comes the fire\u2014then the sword; and then\nall is quiet, and forever!\u201d\n\nHe paused, wiped away the tears, then began again wilder than ever:\n\u201cHeaven is mighty! To-night there will be wonders; watch well your walls,\npeople of the ruined city! To-night there will be signs; let no man sleep\nbut those who sleep in the grave. Prince of Naphtali, have you too sworn,\nas I have, to die?\u201d He lifted his meager hand. \u201cCome, thunders! come,\nfires! vengeance cries from the sanctuary. Listen, undone people! listen,\nnation of sorrow! the ministers of wrath are on the wing. Wo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d\n\nIn pronouncing those words with a voice of the most sonorous yet\nmelancholy power, he threw himself into a succession of strange and\nfearful gestures; then beckoning to the female, who submissively followed\nhis steps, plunged away among the multitude. I heard the howl of\n\u201cWo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d long echoed through the windings of the ruined streets, and\nthought that I heard the voice of the angel of desolation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII\n\n_The Struggle for Supremacy_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Sickness of the Heart]\n\nThe seventeenth day of the month Tamuz, ever memorable in the sufferings\nof Israel, was the last of the Daily Sacrifice. Sorrow and fear were on\nthe city, and the silence of the night was broken by the lamentations of\nthe multitude. I returned to my chamber of affliction, and busied myself\nin preparing for the guard of the Temple, to withdraw my mind from the\ngloom that was beginning to master me. Yet when I looked round the room,\nand thought of what I had been, of the opulent enjoyments of my palace,\nand of the beloved faces which surrounded me there, I felt the sickness\nof the heart.\n\nThe chilling air that blew through the dilapidated walls, the cruse of\nwater, the scanty bread, the glimmering lamp, the comfortless and squalid\nbed, on which lay in the last stages of weakness a patriot and a hero\u2014a\nbeing full of fine affections and abilities, reduced to the helplessness\nof an infant, and whom in leaving for the night I might be leaving to\nperish by the poniard of the robber\u2014unmanned me. I cast the simitar from\nmy hand, and sat down with a sullen determination there to linger until\ndeath, or that darker vengeance which haunted me, should do its will.\n\nThe night was stormy, and the wind howled in long and bitter gusts\nthrough the deserted chambers of the huge mansion. But the mind is the\ntrue place of suffering, and I felt the season\u2019s visitation in my locks\ndrenched about my face, and my tattered robes swept by the freezing\nblasts, as only the natural course of things.\n\nI was sitting by the bedside, moistening the fevered lips of Constantius\nwith water, and pressing on him the last fragment of bread which I might\never have to give, when I, with sudden delight, heard him utter for\nthe first time articulate sounds. I stooped to catch accents so dear\nand full of hope. But the words were a supplication\u2014he prayed to the\nChristian\u2019s God!\n\n[Sidenote: The Prayer of Constantius]\n\nI turned away from this resistless conviction of his belief. But this was\nno time for debate, and I was won to listen again. His voice was scarcely\nabove a whisper, but his language was the aspiration of the heart. His\neyes were closed, and, evidently unconscious of my presence, in his high\ncommunion with Heaven, he talked of things of which I had but imperfect\nknowledge or none; of blood shed for the sins of man; of a descended\nSpirit to guide the servants of Heaven; of the unspeakable love that gave\nthe Son of God to mortal suffering for the atonement of that human guilt\nwhich nothing but such a sacrifice could atone. He finished by the names\ndear to us both; and praying \u201cfor their safety if they still were in\nlife, or for their meeting beyond the grave, declared himself resigned to\nthe will of his Lord.\u201d\n\nI waited in sacred awe until I saw, by the subsiding motion of the lips,\nthat the prayer was done, and then, anxious to gain information of my\nfamily, questioned him. But with the prayer the interval of mental power\nhad passed away. The veil was drawn over his senses once more, and\nhis answers were unintelligible. Yet even the hope of his restoration\nlightened my gloom; my spirits, naturally elastic, shook off their\nleaden weight; I took up the simitar, and pressing the cold hand of my\nnoble fellow victim, prepared to issue forth to the Temple. The storm\nwas partially gone, and the moon, approaching to the full, was high in\nheaven, fighting her way through masses of rapid cloud. The wind still\nroared in long blasts, as the tempest retired, like an army repulsed, and\nindignant at being driven from the spoil. But the ground was deluged, and\na bitter sleet shot on our half-naked bodies. I had far to pass through\nthe streets of the upper city, and their aspect was deeply suited to the\nmelancholy of the hour.\n\nVast walls and buttresses of the burned and overthrown mansions remained,\nthat in the spectral light looked like gigantic specters. Ranges of\ninferior ruins stretched to the utmost glance; some yet sending up the\nsmoke of recent conflagration, and others beaten down by the storms or\nleft to decay. The immense buildings of the hierarchy, once the scene\nof all but kingly magnificence, stood roofless and windowless, with the\nlight sadly gleaming through their fissures, and the wind singing a dirge\nof ruin through their halls. I scarcely met a human being, for the sword\nand famine had fearfully reduced the once countless population.\n\nBut I often startled a flight of vultures from their meal; or, in the\nsinking of the light, stumbled upon a heap that uttered a cry, and\nshowed that life was there; or from his horrid morsel, a wretch glared\nupon me, as one wolf might glare upon another, that came to rob him of\nhis prey; or the twinkling of a miserable lamp in the corner of a ruin\nglimmered over a knot of felony and murder, reckoning their hideous gains\nand carousing with the dagger drawn. Heaps of bones, whitening in the\nair, were the monuments of the wasted valor of my countrymen, and the\noppressive atmosphere gave the sensation of walking in a sepulcher.\n\n[Sidenote: The Avenues of Death]\n\nI dragged my limbs with increased difficulty through those long avenues\nof death that, black, silent, and split into a thousand shapes of ruin,\nlooked less like the streets of a city than the rocky defiles of a\nmountain shattered by lightnings and earthquakes. On the summit of the\nhill I found a crowd of unhappy beings, who came, like myself, actuated\nby zeal to defend the Temple from the insults to which its sanctity was\nnow nightly exposed. Faction had long extinguished the native homage of\nthe people. Battles had been fought within its walls, and many a corpse\nloaded the sacred floors, that once would have required solemn ceremonies\nto free them from the pollution of an unlicensed step.\n\nAnd what a band was assembled there! Wretches mutilated by wounds, worn\nwith sleeplessness, haggard with want of food; shivering together on the\ndeclivity, whose naked elevation exposed them to the whole inclemency\nof the night; flung like the dead, on the ground, or gathered in little\nknots among the ruined porticos, with death in every frame and despair in\nevery heart.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Views the Pomp of War]\n\nI was sheltering myself behind the broken columns of the Grand gate,\nfrom the bitter wind which searched every fiber, and was sinking into\nthat chilling torpor which benumbs body and mind alike, when a clash of\nmilitary music and the tramp of a multitude assailed my ear. I started up\nand found my miserable companions mustered, from the various hollows of\nthe hill, to our post on the central ground of Mount Moriah, whence the\nview was boundless on every side. A growing blaze rose up from the valley\nand flashed upon the wall of circumvallation. The sounds of cymbal and\ntrumpet swelled; the light advanced rapidly; and going the circuit of the\nwall, helmets and lances of the cavalry were seen glittering through the\ngloom; a crowd of archers preceded a dense body of the legionary horse,\nat whose head rode a group of officers. On this night the fatal wall had\nbeen completed, and Titus was going its round in triumph. Every horseman\ncarried a torch, and strong divisions of infantry followed, bearing lamps\nand vessels of combustible matter on the points of their spears. As the\nwhole moved, rolling and bending with the inequalities of the ground, I\nthought that I saw a mighty serpent, coiling his burning spires round the\nprey that was never to be rescued by the power of man.\n\nBut the pomp of war below and the wretchedness round me, raised\nreflections of such bitterness that when Titus and his splendid troop\nreached the mountain of the Temple, one outcry of sorrow and anticipated\nruin burst from us all. The conqueror heard it, and, from the instant\nmaneuvering of his troops, was evidently alarmed; he had known the\ncourage of the Jews too long not to dread the effect of their despair.\nAnd despair it was, fierce and untamable!\n\nI started forward, exclaiming: \u201cIf there is a man among you ready to\nstake his life for his country, let him follow me.\u201d\n\nTo the last hour the Jew was a warrior! The crowd seized their spears,\nand we sprang down the cliffs. As we reached the outer wall of the city,\nI restrained their exhaustless spirit until I had singly ascertained\nthe state of the enemy. Titus was passing the well-known ravine near\nthe fountain-gate, where the ground was difficult for cavalry, from its\nbeing chiefly divided into gardens. I flung open the gate, and led the\nway to the circumvallation. The sentinels, occupied with looking on the\npomp, suffered us to approach unperceived; we mounted the wall, overthrew\neverything before us, and plunged down upon the cavalry, entangled in the\nravine. It was a complete surprise.\n\nThe bravery of the legions was not proof against the fury of our attack.\nEven our wild faces and half-naked forms, by the uncertain glare of the\ntorches, looked scarcely human. Horse and man rolled down the declivity.\nThe arrival of fresh troops only increased the confusion; their torches\nmade them a mark for our pikes and arrows; every point told, and every\nRoman that fell, armed a Jew. The conflict now became murderous, and we\nstabbed at our ease the troopers of the Emperor\u2019s guard, through their\nmail, while their long lances were useless.\n\nThe defile gave us incalculable advantages, for the garden walls were\nimpassable by the cavalry, while we bounded over them like deer. All was\nuproar, terror, and rage. We actually waded through blood. At every step,\nI trod on horse or man; helmets and bucklers, lances and armor, lay in\nheaps, and the stream of the ravine soon ran purple with the proudest\ngore of the legions.\n\n[Sidenote: The Roman Charge]\n\nAt length, while we were absolutely oppressed with the multitude of\ndead, a sudden blast of trumpets and the shouts of the enemy led me to\nprepare for a still fiercer effort. A tide of cavalry poured over the\nground; Titus, a gallant figure, cheering them on, with his helmet in\nhis hand, galloped in their front; I withdrew my wearied followers from\nthe exposed situation into which their success had led them, and posting\nthem behind a rampart of Roman dead, awaited the charge. It came with\nthe force of thunder; the powerful horses of the imperial squadron broke\nover our rampart at the first shock and bore us down like stubble. Every\nman of us was under their feet in a moment; and yet the very number of\nour assailants saved us. The narrowness of the place gave no room for\nthe management of the horse; the darkness assisted both our escape and\nassault; and even lying on the ground, we plunged our knives in horse\nand rider, with terrible retaliation.\n\nThe cavalry at length gave way, but the Roman general, a man of the\nheroic spirit that is only inflamed by repulse, rushed forward among\nthe disheartened troops, and roused them by his cries and gestures\nto retrieve their honor. After a few bold words, he again charged at\ntheir head. I singled him out, as I saw his golden helmet gleam in the\ntorch-light. To capture the son of Vespasian would have been a triumph\nworth a thousand lives. Titus[46] was celebrated for personal dexterity\nin the management of the horse and lance, and I could not withhold my\nadmiration of the skill with which he penetrated the difficulties of the\nfield, and the mastery with which he overthrew all that opposed him.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Attacks Titus]\n\nOur motley ranks were already scattering, when I cried out my name and\ndefied him to the combat. He stooped over his charger\u2019s neck to discover\nhis adversary, and seeing before him a being as blackened and beggared as\nthe most dismantled figure of the crowd, gave a laugh of fierce derision,\nand was turning away, when our roar of scorn recalled him. He struck\nin the spur, and couching his lance, bounded toward me. To have waited\nhis attack must have been destruction; I sprang aside, and with my full\nvigor flung my javelin; it went through his buckler. He reeled, and a\ngroan rose from the legionaries who were rushing forward to his support.\nHe stopped them with a fierce gesture, and casting off the entangled\nbuckler, charged again. But the hope of the imperial diadem was not to be\nthus cheaply hazarded. The whole circle of cavalry rolled in upon us; I\nwas dragged down by a hundred hands, and Titus was forced away, indignant\nat the zeal which had thwarted his fiery valor.\n\nIn the confusion I was forgotten, burst through the concourse, and\nrejoined my countrymen, who had given me over for lost, and now received\nme with shouts of victory. The universal cry was to advance, but I felt\nthat the limit of triumph for that night was come; the engagement had\nbecome known to the whole range of the enemy\u2019s camps, and troops without\nnumber were already pouring down. I ordered a retreat, but there was one\nremaining exploit to make the night\u2019s service memorable.\n\nLeaving a few hundred pikemen outside the circumvallation, to keep off\nany sudden attempt, I set every hand at work to gather the dry weeds,\nrushes, and fragments of trees from the low grounds into a pile. It was\nlaid against the rampart. I flung the first torch, and pile and rampart\nwere soon alike in a blaze. Volumes of flame, carried by the wind,\nrolled round its entire circuit. The Romans rushed down in multitudes\nto extinguish the fire. But this became continually more difficult.\nJerusalem had been roused from its sleep, and the extravagant rumors\nthat a great victory was obtained, Titus slain, and the enemy\u2019s camp\ntaken by storm, stimulated the natural spirit of the people to the\nmost boundless confidence. Every Jew who could find a lance, an arrow,\nor a knife hurried to the gates, and the space between the walls and\nthe circumvallation was crowded with an army which, in that crisis of\nsuperhuman exultation, perhaps no disciplined force on earth could have\noutfought.\n\nNothing could now save the rampart. Torches innumerable, piles of\nfaggots, arms, even the dead, all things that could burn, were flung upon\nit. Thousands, who at other times might have shrunk, forgot the name\nof fear, leaped into the very midst of the flames, and tearing up the\nblazing timbers, dug to the heart of the rampart and filled the hollows\nwith sulfur and bitumen; thousands struggled across the tumbling ruins,\nto throw themselves among the Roman spearsmen and see the blood of an\nenemy before they died.\n\n[Sidenote: The Rampart\u2019s Illumination]\n\nWar never had a bolder moment. Human nature, roused to the wildest\nheight of enthusiasm, was lavishing life like dust. The ramparts spread\na horrid light upon the havoc; every spot of the battle, every group\nof the furious living, and the trampled and deformed dead, was keenly\nvisible. The ear was deafened by the incessant roar of flame, the falling\nof the huge heaps of the rampart, and the agonies and exultations of men,\nreveling in mutual slaughter.\n\n[Sidenote: The Phenomenon in the Sky]\n\nIn that hour came one of those solemn signs that marked the downfall\nof Jerusalem. The tempest, that had blown at intervals with tremendous\nviolence, died away at once; and a surge of light ascended from the\nhorizon and rolled up rapidly to the zenith. The phenomenon instantly\nfixed every eye. There was an indefinable sense in the general mind that\na sign of power and providence was about to be given. The battle ceased;\nthe outcries were followed by utter silence; the armed ranks stood still,\nin the very act of rushing on each other; all faces were turned on the\nheavens.\n\nThe light rose pale and quivering like the meteors of a summer\nevening. But in the zenith, it spread and swelled into a splendor that\ndistinguished it irresistibly from the wonders of earth or air. It\nswiftly eclipsed every star. The moon vanished before it; the canopy of\nthe sky seemed to be dissolved, for a view into a bright and infinite\nregion beyond, fit for the career of those mighty beings to whom man is\nbut the dust on the gale.\n\nAs we gazed, this boundless field was transformed into a field of battle;\nmultitudes seemed to crowd it in the fiercest combat; horsemen charged\nand died under their horses\u2019 feet; armor and standards were trampled in\nblood; column and line burst through each other. At length the battle\nstooped toward the earth, and with hearts beating with indescribable\nfeelings we recognized in the fight the banners of the tribes. It was Jew\nand Roman struggling for life; the very countenances of the combatants\nbecame visible, and each man below saw a representative of himself above.\nThe fate of Jewish war was there written by the hand of Heaven; the fate\nof the individual was there predicted in the individual triumph or fall.\nWhat tongue of man can tell the intense interest with which we watched\nevery blow, every movement, every wound, of those images of ourselves?\n\nThe light now illumined the whole horizon below. The legions were seen\ndrawn out in front of the camps, ready for action\u2014every helmet and\nspear-point glittering in the radiance; every face turned up, gazing\nin awe and terror on the sky. The tents spreading over the hills; the\nthousands and tens of thousands of auxiliaries and captives; the little\ngroups of the peasantry, roused from sleep by the uproar of the night,\nand gathered upon the knolls and eminences of their fields\u2014all were\nbathed in a flood of preternatural luster. But the wondrous battle\napproached its close. The visionary Romans seemed to shake, column and\ncohort gave way, and the banners of the tribes waved in victory over the\ncelestial field. Then human voices dared to be heard. From the city and\nthe plain burst forth one mighty shout of triumph!\n\n[Sidenote: A Dreadful Sign]\n\nBut our presumption was soon to be checked. A peal of thunder that made\nthe very ground tremble under our feet rolled from the four quarters of\nthe heaven. The conquering host shook, broke, and fled in utter confusion\nover the sapphire field. It was pursued, but by no semblance of the Roman.\n\nAn awful enemy was on its steps. Flashes of forked fire, like myriads of\nlances, darted after it; cloud on cloud deepened down, as the smoke of\na mighty furnace; globes of light shot blasting and burning along its\ntrack. Then amid the double roar of thunder rushed forth the chivalry\nof heaven. Shapes of transcendent beauty, yet with looks of wrath that\nwithered the human eye\u2014armed sons of immortality descending on the wing\nby millions\u2014mingled with shapes and instruments of ruin, for which the\nmind has no conception. The circle of the heaven was filled with the\nchariots and horses of fire. Flight was in vain; the weapons were seen to\ndrop from the Jewish host; their warriors sank upon the splendid field.\nStill the immortal armies poured on, trampling and blasting, until the\nlast of the routed were consumed.\n\nThe angry pomp then paused. Countless wings were spread, and the angelic\nmultitudes, having done the work of vengeance, rushed upward, with the\nsound of ocean in the storm. The roar of trumpets and thunders was heard,\nuntil the splendor was lost in the heights of the empyrean.\n\nWe felt the terrible warning. Our strength was dried up at the sight;\ndespair seized upon our souls. We had seen the fate of Jerusalem. No\nvictory over man could now save us from the coming of final ruin!\n\n[Sidenote: Despair]\n\nThousands never left the ground on which they stood; they perished by\ntheir own hands, or lay down and died of broken hearts. The rest fled\nthrough the night, that again wrapped them in tenfold darkness. The whole\nmultitude scattered with soundless steps, and in silence like an army of\nspecters.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVIII\n\n_The Sting of a Story_\n\n\nIn the deepest dejection that could overwhelm the human mind, I returned\nto the city, where one melancholy care still bound me to existence. I\nhastened to my comfortless shelter, but the battle had fluctuated so\nfar around the walls that I found myself perplexed, among the ruins of\na portion of the lower city, a crowd of obscure streets which belonged\nalmost wholly to strangers and the poorer population.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Darkness of Night]\n\nThe faction of John of Giscala, composed chiefly of the more profligate\nand beggared class, had made the lower city their stronghold, before they\nbecame masters of Mount Moriah; and some desperate skirmishes, of which\nconflagrations were the perpetual consequence, laid waste the principal\npart of a district built and ruined by the haste and carelessness of\npoverty. To find a guide through this scene of dilapidation was hopeless,\nfor every living creature, terrified by the awful portents of the sky,\nhad fled from the streets. The night was solid darkness. No expiring\ngleam from the burned rampart, no fires of the Roman camps, no torch on\nthe Jewish battlements, broke the pitchy blackness. Life and light seemed\nto have perished together.\n\nTo proceed soon became impossible, and I had no other resource than to\nwait the coming of day. But to one accustomed as I was to hardships, this\ninconvenience was trivial. I felt my way along the walls, to the entrance\nof a house that promised some protection from the night, and flinging\nmyself into a corner, vainly tried to slumber. But the rising of the\nstorm and the rain pouring upon my lair drove me to seek a more sheltered\nspot within the ruin. The destruction was so effectual that this was\ndifficult to discover, and I was hopelessly returning to take my chance\nin the open air when I observed the glimmer of a lamp through a crevice\nin the upper part of the building. My first impulse was to approach and\nobtain assistance. But the abruptness of the ascent gave me time to\nconsider the hazard of breaking in upon such groups as might be gathered\nat that hour, in a period when every atrocity under heaven reigned in\nJerusalem.\n\nMy patience was put to but brief trial, for in a few minutes I heard a\nlow hymn. It paused, as if followed by prayer. The hymn began again, in\naccents so faint as evidently to express the fear of the worshipers. But\nthe sounds thrilled through my soul. I listened, in a struggle of doubt\nand hope. Could I be deceived? and if I were, how bitter must be the\ndiscovery. I sat down at the foot of the rude stair, to feed myself with\nthe fancied delight before it should be snatched from me forever.\n\n[Sidenote: A Sudden Reunion]\n\nBut my perturbation would have risen to madness had I stopped longer. I\nclimbed up the tottering steps; half-way I found myself obstructed by a\ndoor; I struck upon it, and called aloud. After an interval of miserable\ndelay, a still higher door was opened, and a figure enveloped in a veil\ntimidly looked out and asked my purpose. I saw, glancing over her, two\nfaces that I would have given the world to see. I called out \u201cMiriam!\u201d\nOverpowered with emotion, my speech failed me. I lived only in my eyes. I\nsaw Miriam fling off the mantle with a scream of joy, and rush down the\nsteps. I saw my two daughters follow her with the speed of love; the door\nwas thrown open, and I fell fainting into their arms.\n\nTears, exclamations, and gazings were long our only language. My wife\nhung over my wasted frame with endless embraces and sobs of joy. My\ndaughters fell at my feet, bathed my cold hands with their tears, smiled\non me in speechless delight, and then wept again. They had thought me\nlost to them forever. I had thought them dead, or driven to some solitude\nwhich forbade us to meet again on this side of the grave. For two\nyears, two dreadful years, a lonely man on earth, a wifeless husband, a\nchildless father, tried by every misery of mind and body; here\u2014here I\nfound my treasure once more! On this spot, wretched and destitute as it\nwas, in the midst of public misery and personal wo, I had found those\nwhose loss would have made the riches of mankind, beggary to me. My soul\noverflowed. Words were not made to tell the feverish fondness, the strong\ndelight that quivered through me. I wept with woman\u2019s weakness; I held my\nwife and children at arm\u2019s length, that I might enjoy the full happiness\nof gazing on them; then my eyes grew dim, and I caught them to my heart,\nand in silence, the silence of unspeakable emotion, tried to collect my\nthoughts and to convince myself that my joy was no dream.\n\nThe night passed in mutual inquiries. The career of my family had been\ndeeply diversified. On my capture in the great battle with Cestius, in\nwhich it was said that I had fallen, they were on the point of coming to\nJerusalem to ascertain their misfortune. The advance of the Romans to\nMasada precluded this. They sailed for Alexandria, and were overtaken by\na storm.\n\n[Sidenote: The Terror of a Memory]\n\n\u201cIn that storm,\u201d said Miriam, with terror painted on her countenance,\n\u201cwe saw a sight that appalled the firmest heart among us, and which to\nthis hour recalls fearful images. The night had fallen intensely dark.\nOur vessel, laboring through the tempest during the day and greatly\nshattered, was expected to go down before morn, and I had come upon the\ndeck, prepared to submit to the general fate, when I saw a flame in the\ndistance, and pointed it out to the mariners; but they were paralyzed by\nweariness and fear, and instead of approaching what I conceived to be\na beacon, they left the vessel to the mercy of the wind. I watched the\nlight; to my astonishment, I saw it advancing over the waves. It was a\nlarge ship on fire, and rushing down upon us. Then, indeed, there was no\ninsensibility among our mariners; they were like madmen, through excess\nof fear\u2014they did everything but make an effort to escape the danger.\n\n\u201cThe blazing ship came toward us with terrific rapidity. As it\napproached, the figure of a man was seen on the deck, standing unhurt, in\nthe midst of the burning. The Syrian pilot, hitherto the boldest of our\ncrew, at this sight cast the helm from his hands in despair, and tore his\nbeard, exclaiming that we were undone. To our questions, he would give no\nother answer than by pointing to the solitary being who stood calmly in\nthe center of the conflagration, more like a demon than a man.\n\n[Sidenote: The Solitary Figure Accursed]\n\n\u201cI proposed that we should make some effort to rescue this unfortunate\nman. But the pilot, horror-struck at the thought, then gave up the tale\nthat it cost him agonies even to utter. He told us that the being whom\nour frantic compassion would attempt to save, was an accursed thing; that\nfor some crime, too inexpiable to allow of his remaining among creatures\ncapable of hope, he was cast out from men, stricken into the nature of\nthe condemned spirits, and sentenced to rove the ocean in fire, ever\nburning and never consumed!\u201d\n\nI felt every word, as if that fire was devouring my flesh. The sense of\nwhat I was, and what I must be, was poison. My head swam; mortal pain\noverwhelmed me. And this abhorred thing I was; this sentenced and fearful\nwretch I was, covered with wrath and shame; this exile from human nature\nI was; and I heard my sentence pronounced and my existence declared\nhideous by the lips on which I hung for confidence and consolation\nagainst the world.\n\nFlinging my robe over my face to hide its writhings, I seemed to listen,\nbut my ears refused to hear. In my perturbation, I once thought of boldly\navowing the truth, and thus freeing myself from the pang of perpetual\nconcealment. But the offense and the retribution were too real and too\ndeadly to be disclosed, without destroying the last chance of happiness\nto those innocent sufferers. I mastered the convulsion, and again bent my\near.\n\n\u201cOur story exhausts you,\u201d said Miriam; \u201cbut it is done. After a long\npursuit, in which the burning ship followed us as if with the express\npurpose of our ruin, we were snatched from a death by fire, only to\nundergo the chance of one by the waves, for we were sinking. Yet it may\nhave been owing even to that chase that we were saved. The ship had\ndriven us toward land. At sea we must have perished, but the shore was\nfound to be so near, that the country people, guided by the flame, saved\nus, without the loss of a life. Once on shore, we met with some of the\nfugitives from Masada, who brought us to Jerusalem, the only remaining\nrefuge for our unhappy nation.\u201d\n\nTo prevent a recurrence of this torturing subject, I mastered my emotion\nso far as to ask some question of the siege. But Miriam\u2019s thoughts were\nstill busy with the sea. After some hesitation, and as if she dreaded the\nanswer, she said:\n\n[Sidenote: A Cry of Recognition]\n\n\u201cOne extraordinary circumstance made me take a strong interest in the\nfate of that solitary being on board the burning vessel. It once seemed\nto have the most striking likeness to you. I even cried out to it under\nthat impression, but fortunate it was for us all that my heedless cry\nwas not answered, for when it approached us I could see its countenance\nchange; it threw a sheet of flame across our vessel that almost scorched\nus; and then perhaps thinking that our destruction was complete, the\nhuman fiend ascended from the waters in a pillar of intense fire.\u201d\n\nI felt deep pain at this romantic narrative. My mysterious sentence was\nthe common talk of mankind. My frightful secret, that I had thought\nlocked up in my own heart, was loose as the air. This was enough to\nmake life bitter. But to be identified in the minds of my family with\nthe object of universal horror, was a chance which I determined not to\ncontemplate. My secret there was still safe; and my resolution became\nfixed, never to destroy that safety by any frantic confidence of my own.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIX\n\n_Salathiel\u2019s Strange Quarters_\n\n\nWhile, with my head bent on my knees, I hung in the misery of\nself-abhorrence, I heard the name of Constantius sorrowfully pronounced\nbeside me. The state in which he must be left by my long absence flashed\nupon my mind; I raised my eyes, and saw Salome. It was her voice that\nsounded, and I then first observed the work of wo in her form and\nfeatures. She was almost a shadow; her eye was lusterless, and the hands\nthat she clasped in silent prayer were reduced to the bone. But before\nI could speak, Miriam made a sign of silence to me, and led the mourner\naway; then returning, said:\n\n\u201cI dreaded lest you might make any inquiries before Salome, for her\nhusband. Religion alone has kept her from the grave. On our arrival here,\nwe found our noble Constantius worn out by the fatigue of the time, but\nhe was our guardian spirit in the dreadful tumults of the city. When we\nwere burned out of one asylum, he led us to another. It is but a week\nsince he placed us in this melancholy spot, but yet the more secure and\nunknown. He himself brought us provisions, supplied us with every comfort\nthat could be obtained by his impoverished means, and saved us from\nfamine. But now,\u201d\u2014the tears filled her eyes and she could not proceed.\n\n\u201cYes\u2014now,\u201d said I, \u201che is a sight that would shock the eye; we must keep\nSalome in ignorance as long as we can.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Fate of Constantius]\n\n\u201cThe unhappy girl knows his fate but too well. He left us a few days\nsince, to obtain some intelligence of the siege. We sat, during the\nnight, listening to the frightful sounds of battle. At daybreak, unable\nany longer to bear the suspense or sit looking at Salome\u2019s wretchedness,\nI ventured to the fountain-gate, and there heard what I so bitterly\nanticipated\u2014our brave Constantius was slain!\u201d\n\nShe wept aloud, and sobs and cries of irrepressible anguish answered her\nfrom the chamber of my unhappy child.\n\n[Sidenote: A False Report]\n\nThe danger of a too sudden discovery prevented me from drying those\ntears, and I could proceed only by offering conjectures on the various\nchances of battle, the possibility of his being made prisoner, and the\ngeneral difficulty of ascertaining the fates of men in the irregular\ncombats of a populace. But Salome sat fixed in cold incredulity. Esther\nsorrowfully kissed my hand, for my disposition to give them a ray of\ncomfort; Miriam gazed on me with a sad and searching look, as if she\nfelt that I would not tamper with their distresses, yet she was deeply\nperplexed for the issue. At last the delay grew painful to myself, and\ntaking Salome to my arms, and pressing a kiss of parental love on her\npale cheek, I whispered, \u201cHe lives!\u201d\n\nI was overwhelmed with transports and thanksgivings. Precaution was at\nan end. If battle had been raging in the streets, I could not now have\nrestrained the generous impatience of friendship and love. We left the\nmansion. There was not much to leave besides the walls; but such as it\nwas, the first fugitive was welcome to the possession. Night was still\nwithin the building, which had belonged to some of the Roman officers of\nstate, and was massive and of great extent. But at the threshold the gray\ndawn came quivering over the Mount of Olives.\n\nWe struggled through the long and winding streets, which even in the\nlight were nearly impassable. From the inhabitants we met with no\nimpediment; a few haggard and fierce-looking men stared at us from\nthe ruins,[47] but we, wrapped up in rude mantles and hurrying along,\nwore too much the livery of despair to be disturbed by our fellows in\nwretchedness. With a trembling heart I led the way to the chamber, where\nlay one in whose life our general happiness was centered. Fearful of the\nshock which our sudden appearance might give his enfeebled frame, and not\nless of the misery with which he must be seen, I advanced alone to the\nbedside. He gave no sign of recognition, tho he was evidently awake,\nand I was about to close the curtains and keep, at least, Salome from\nthe hazardous sight of this living ruin, when I found her beside me. She\ntook his hand and sat down on the bed, with her eyes fixed on his hollow\nfeatures. She spoke not a word, but sat cherishing the wasted hand in her\nown and kissing it with sad fondness. Her grief was too sacred for our\ninterference, and in sorrow scarcely less poignant than her own, I led\napart Miriam and Esther, who, like me, believed that the parting day was\ncome.\n\nSuch rude help as could be found in medicine\u2014at a time when our men of\nscience had fled the city, and a few herbs were the only resource\u2014had not\nbeen neglected even in my distraction. But life seemed retiring hour by\nhour, and if I dared to contemplate the death of this beloved being, it\nwas almost with a wish that it had happened before the arrival of those\nto whom it must be a renewal of agony.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Faces Difficulties]\n\nStill, the minor cares, which make so humble yet so necessary a page in\nthe history of life, were to occupy me. Food must be provided for the\nincreased number of my inmates, and where was that to be found in the\ncircle of a beleaguered city? Money was useless, even if I possessed\nit; the friends who would once have shared their last meal with me were\nexiled or slain, and it was in the midst of a fierce populace, themselves\ndying of hunger, that I was to glean the daily subsistence of my wife\nand children. The natural pride of the chieftain revolted at the idea of\nsupplicating for food, but this was one of the questions that show the\nabsurdity of pride, and I must beg if I would not see them die.\n\nThe dwelling had belonged to one of the noble families extinguished,\nor driven away, in the first commotions of the war. The factions which\nperpetually tore each other, and fought from house to house, had stripped\nits lofty halls of everything that could be plundered in the hurry of\ncivil feud, and when I took refuge under its roof it looked the very\npalace of desolation. But it was a shelter, undisturbed by the riots of\nthe crowd, too bare to invite the robber; and even in its vast and naked\nchambers, its gloomy passages and frowning casements, congenial to the\nmood of my mind. With Constantius insensible and dying before me, and\nwith my own spirit darkened by an eternal cloud, I loved loneliness and\ndarkness. When the echo of the winds came round me, as I sat during my\nmiserable midnights, watching the countenance of my son, and moistening\nhis feverish lip with the water that even then was becoming a commodity\nof rare price in Jerusalem, I had communed with memories that I would not\nhave exchanged for the brightest enjoyments of life. I welcomed the sad\nmusic, in which the beloved voices revisited my soul; what was earth now\nto me but a tomb? Pomp\u2014nay, comfort\u2014would have been a mockery. I clung to\nthe solitude and obscurity that gave me the picture of the grave.\n\nBut the presence of my family made me feel the wretchedness of my abode.\nWhen I cast my eyes round the squalid and chilling halls, and saw\nwandering through them those gentle and delicate forms, and saw them\ntrying to disguise, by smiles and cheering words, the depression that\nthe whole scene must inspire, I felt a pang that might defy a firmer\nphilosophy than mine\u2014the despair that finds its only relief in scorn.\n\n[Sidenote: The Palace of the Winds]\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said I to Miriam, as I hastened to the door, \u201cI leave you\nmistress of a palace. The Asmonean blood once flourished within these\nwalls; and why not we? I have seen the nobles of the land crowded into\nthese chambers. They are not so full now, but we must make the most of\nwhat we have. Those hangings, that I remember, the pride of the Sidonian\nwho sold them, are left to us still; if they are in fragments, they will\nbut show our handiwork the more. We must make our own music; and in\ndefault of menials, serve with our own hands. The pile in that corner was\nonce a throne sent by a Persian king to the descendant of the Maccabee;\nit will serve us at least for firing. The walls are thick; the roof may\nhold out a few storms more; the casements, if they keep out nothing else,\nkeep out the daylight, an unwelcome guest, which would do anything but\nreconcile us to the state of the mansion, and now, farewell for a few\nhours.\u201d\n\nMiriam caught my arm, and said, in that sweet tone which always sank into\nmy heart:\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam Chides Salathiel]\n\n\u201cSalathiel, you must not leave us in this temper. I would rather hear\nyour open complaints of fortune than this affectation of contempt for\nyour calamities. They are many and painful, I allow, tho I will not,\ndare not, repine. They may even be such as are beyond human cure, but\nwho shall say that he has deserved better\u2014or if he has, that suffering\nmay not be the determined means of exalting his nature? Is gold the only\nthing that is to be tried in the fire?\u201d\n\nShe waited my answer with a look of dejected love.\n\n\u201cMiriam, I need not say that I respect and honor your feelings, but no\nresignation can combat the substantial evils of life. Will the finest\nsentiments that ever came from human lips make this darkness light, turn\nthis bitter wind into warmth, or make these hideous chambers but the\ndungeon?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy husband, I dread this language,\u201d was the answer, with more than usual\nsolemnity; \u201cit is\u2014must I say it?\u2014even unwise. Shall the creatures of the\nPower by whom we are placed in life either defy His wrath or disregard\nHis mercy? Might we not be more severely tasked than we are? Are there\nnot thousands at this hour in the world who, with at least equal claims\nto the divine benevolence (I tremble when I use the presumptuous phrase),\nare undergoing calamities to which ours are happiness? Look from this\nvery threshold; are there not thousands within the walls of Jerusalem,\ngroaning in the pangs of unhealed wounds, mad, starving, stripped of\nevery succor of man, dying in hovels, the last survivors of their\nwretched race? and yet we, still enjoying health, with a roof over our\nheads, with our children round us safe, when the plague of the first-born\nhas fallen upon almost every house in Judea, can complain! Be comforted,\nmy love; I see but one actual calamity among us; and if Constantius\nshould survive, even that one would be at an end.\u201d\n\nI left my gentle despot, and hurried through the echoing halls of this\npalace of the winds. As I approached the great avenues leading from the\ngates to the Temple, unusual sounds struck my ears. Hitherto nothing\nin the sadness of the besieged city was sadder than its silence. Death\nwas lord of Jerusalem, and the numberless ways in which life was\nextinguished had left but the remnant of its once proud and flourishing\npopulation.\n\n[Sidenote: Gathering at Jerusalem]\n\nBut now shouts, and still more, the deep and perpetual murmur that\nbespeaks the movements and gatherings of a crowded city, astonished me.\nMy first conception was that the enemy had advanced in force, and I was\nturning toward the battlements to witness, or repel the general fate,\nwhen I was involved in the multitude whose voices had perplexed me.\n\nIt was the season of the Passover. The Roman barrier had hitherto kept\nback the tribes; but the victory that left it in embers opened the gates;\nand from the most death-like solitude, we were once more to see the sons\nof Judea filling the courts of the city of cities.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER L\n\n_After the Struggle_\n\n\nNothing could be more unrestrained than the public rejoicing. The bold\nmyriads that soon poured in, hour by hour, many of them long acquainted\nwith Roman battle and distinguished for the successful defense of their\nstrongholds, many of them even bearing arms taken from the enemy, or\ndisplaying honorable scars, seemed to have come, sent by Heaven. The\nenemy, evidently disheartened by their late losses and the destruction\nof the rampart which had cost them so much labor, remained collected in\ntheir camps, and access was free from every quarter. The rumors of our\ntriumph had spread with singular rapidity through the land, and even the\nfearful phenomenon that wrote our undoing in the skies stimulated the\nnational hope. No son of Abraham could believe, without the strongest\nrepugnance, that Heaven had interposed, and yet interposed against the\nchosen people.\n\n[Sidenote: The Living Torrent]\n\nA living torrent had come, swelling into the gates, and the great avenues\nand public places were quickly impassable with the multitude. Jerusalem\nnever before contained so vast a mass of population. Wherever the eye\nturned were tents, fires, and feasting; still the multitude wore an\naspect not such as in former days. The war had made its impression on the\ninmost spirit of our country. The shepherds and tillers of the ground had\nbeen forced into the habits of soldiership, and I saw before me, for the\ngentle and joyous inhabitants of the field and garden, bands of warriors\nmade fierce by the sullen necessities of the time.\n\nThe ruin in which they found Jerusalem increased their gloom. Groups\nwere seen everywhere climbing among the fallen buildings to find out the\ndwelling of some chief of their tribe, and venting furious indignation\non the hands that had overthrown it. The work of war upon the famous\ndefenses of the city was a profanation in their eyes. Crowds rushed\nthrough the plain to trace the spot where their kindred fell and gather\ntheir bones to the tardy sepulcher. Others rushed exultingly over the\nwrecks of the Roman soldiery, burning them in heaps, that they might not\nmix with the honored dead.\n\nBut it was the dilapidation of the Temple that struck them with the\ndeepest emotion. The singularly nervous sensibility and unequaled native\nreverence of the Jew were fully awakened by the sight of the humiliated\nsanctuary. They knelt and kissed the pavements, stained with the marks of\ncivil feud. They sent forth deep lamentations for the dismantled beauty\nof gate and altar. They wrapped their mantles round their heads, and,\ncovering themselves with dust and ashes, chanted hymns of funereal sorrow\nover the ruins. Hundreds lay embracing pillar and threshold as they\nwould the corpse of a parent or a child; or, starting from the ground,\ngathered on the heights nearest to the enemy and poured out curses upon\nthe \u201cAbomination of desolation\u201d\u2014the idolatrous banner that flaunted over\nthe Roman camps, and by its mere presence polluted the Temple of their\nfathers.\n\n[Sidenote: Gloom and Festivity]\n\nIn the midst of this sorrow\u2014and never was there more real sorrow\u2014was the\nstrange contrast of an extravagant spirit of festivity. The Passover,\nthe grand celebration of our law, had been until now marked by a grave\nhomage. Even its recollections of triumphant deliverance and illustrious\npromise were but slightly suffered to mitigate the general awe. But the\ncharacter of the Jew had undergone a signal change. Desperate valor and\nhaughty contempt of all power but that of arms were the impulse of the\ntime. The habits of the camp were transferred to every part of life, and\nthe reckless joy of the soldier when the battle is done, the eagerness\nof the multitude of the dissolute for immediate indulgence, and the rude\nand unhallowed resources to while away, the heavy hour of idleness, were\npowerfully and repulsively prominent in this final coming-up of the\nnation.\n\n[Sidenote: The Varied Scene]\n\nAs I struggled through the avenues in search of the remnant of my tribe,\nmy ears were perpetually startled by sounds of riot. I saw, beside the\nspot where relations were weeping over their dead, crowds drinking,\ndancing, and clamoring. Songs of wild exultation were mingled with the\nlaments for their country; wine flowed, and the board, loaded with\ncareless profusion, was surrounded by revelers, with whom the carouse\nwas invariably succeeded by the quarrel. The pharisee and scribe, the\npests of society, were once more as busy as ever, bustling through\nthe concourse with supercilious dignity, canvassing for hearers in\nthe market-places as of old, offering up their wordy devotions where\nthey might best be seen, and quarreling with the native bitterness of\nreligious faction. Blind guides of the blind, vipers and hypocrites, I\nthink that I see them still, with their turbans pulled down over their\nscowling brows; their mantles gathered round them, that they might not be\ndegraded by a profane touch; and every feature of their acrid and worldly\nphysiognomies wrinkled with pride, put to the torture by the assumption\nof humility.\n\nMinstrels, far unlike those who once led the way with sacred song to the\ngates of the holy city, now flocked round the tents, and companies of\nGreek and Syrian mimes, dancers, and flute-players, the natural and fatal\ngrowth of a period of military relaxation, were erecting their pavilions\nas in the festivals of their own profligate cities.\n\nDeepening the shadows of this fearful profanation, stood forth the\ntraders in terror: the exorcist, the soothsayer, the magician girdled\nwith live serpents, the pretended prophet, naked and pouring out furious\nrhapsodies; impostors of every color and pursuit, yet some of those\nabhorred and frightful beings probably the dupes of their own imposture;\nsome utterly frenzied; and some declaring, and doing, wonders that showed\na power of evil never learned from man.\n\nIn depression of heart I gave up the effort to urge my way through scenes\nthat, firm as I was, terrified me, and turned toward my home through the\nsteep path that passed along the outer court of the Temple. There all\nwore the mournful silence suited to the sanctuary that was to see its\naltars kindled no more. But the ruins were crowded with kneeling and\nwo-begone worshipers, who, from morning until night, clung to the sacred\nsoil and wept for the departing majesty of Judah. I now knelt with them\nand mingled my tears with theirs.\n\nPrayer calmed my spirit, and before I left the height I stopped to look\nagain upon the wondrous expanse below. The clear atmosphere of the East\nsingularly diminishes distance, and I seemed to stand close by the Roman\ncamps. The valley at my feet was living with the new population of\nJerusalem, clustering thick as bees, and sending up the perpetual hum of\ntheir mighty hive. The sight was superb, and I involuntarily exulted in\nthe strength that my country was still able to display in the face of her\nenemies.\n\nHere were the elements of mutual havoc, but might they not be the\nelements of preservation? The thought occurred that now might be the time\nto make an effort for peace. We had, by the repulse of the legionaries,\nshown them the price which they must pay for conquest. Even since\nthat repulse, a new national force had started forward, armed with an\nenthusiasm that would perish only with the last man, and increasing\ntenfold the difficulties of the war.\n\n[Sidenote: The Sanhedrin Acts]\n\nI turned again to the ruins, where I joined some venerable and\ninfluential men, who alike shuddered at the excesses of the crowd below\nand the catastrophe that prolonged war must bring. My advice produced an\nimpression. The remnant of the Sanhedrin were speedily collected, and\nmy proposal was adopted that a deputation should immediately be sent to\nTitus to ascertain how far he was disposed to an armistice. The regular\npacification might then follow with a more solemn ceremonial.\n\n[Sidenote: Titus Receives Jewish Envoys]\n\nFrom the top of Mount Moriah we anxiously watched the passage of our\nenvoys through the multitude that wandered over the space from Jerusalem\nto the foot of the enemy\u2019s position. We saw them pass unmolested and\nenter the Roman lines, and from the group of officers of rank who came\nforward to meet them we gladly conjectured that their reception was\nfavorable. Within an hour we saw them moving down the side of the hill\non their return, and at some distance behind, a cluster of horsemen\nslowly advancing. The deputation had executed its task with success. It\nwas received by Titus with Italian urbanity.[48] To its representations\nof the power subsisting in Judea to sustain the war he fully assented,\nand giving high praise to the fortitude of the people, only lamented\nthe necessary havoc of war. To give the stronger proof of his wish for\npeace, his answer was to be conveyed formally by a mission of his chief\ncouncilors and officers to the Sanhedrin.\n\nThe tidings were soon propagated among the people, and proud of their\nstrength, and irritated against the invader as they were, the prospect of\nrelief from their innumerable privations was welcomed with undisguised\njoy. The hope was as cheering to the two prominent leaders of the\nfactions as to any man among us. John of Giscala had been stimulated into\ndaring by circumstances alone; nature never intended him for a warrior.\nWily, grasping, and selfish, cruel without personal boldness, and keen\nwithout intellectual vigor, his only purpose was to accumulate money and\nto enjoy power. The loftier objects of public life were beyond his narrow\ncapacity. He had been rapidly losing even his own objects; his followers\nwere deserting him, and a continuance of the war involved equally the\npersonal peril which he feared, and the fall of that tottering authority\nwhose loss would leave him to insulted justice.\n\nSimon, the son of Gioras, was altogether of a higher class of mankind.\nHe was by nature a soldier, and, in other times, might have risen to a\nplace among the celebrated names of war. But the fierceness of the period\ninflamed his spirit into savage atrocity. In the tumults of the city he\nhad distinguished himself by that unhesitating hardihood which values\nneither its own life nor the lives of others, and his daring threw the\nhollow and artificial character of his rival deeply into the shade. But\nhe found a different adversary in the Roman. His brute bravery was met\nby intelligent valor; his rashness was baffled by the discipline of the\nlegions; and weary of conflicts in which he was sure to be defeated,\nhe had long left the field to the irregular sallies of the tribes, and\ncontented himself with prowess in city feud and the preservation of his\nauthority against the dagger.\n\n[Sidenote: The Meaning of Peace]\n\nPeace with Rome would thus have relieved both John and Simon from the\ndanger which threatened to overwhelm them alike; to the citizens it would\nhave given an instant change from the terrors of assault to tranquillity;\nand to the nation, the hope of an existence made splendidly secure by its\nhaving been won from the master of the world.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LI\n\n_A Man of Mystery_\n\n\nThe movement of the Roman mission through the plain was marked by loud\nshouts. As it approached the gates, our little council descended from\nthe temple porch to meet it, where one of the open places in the center\nof the city was appointed for the conference. The applauding roar of the\npeople followed the troops through the streets, and when the tribunes\nand senators entered the square, and gave us the right hand of amity,\nuniversal acclamation shook the air. A gleam of joy revisited my heart,\nand I was on the point of ascending an elevation in the center, to\nannounce the terms of this fortunate armistice, when to my astonishment I\nsaw the spot preoccupied.\n\n[Sidenote: An Intruder]\n\nWhence came the intruder no one could tell, but there he stood, a\nfigure that fixed the universal eye. He was of gigantic stature, brown\nas an Indian, and thin as one worn to the last extremity by disease or\nfamine. Conjecture was busy. He seemed alternately the fugitive from a\ndungeon\u2014one of the half-savage recluses that sometimes came from their\ndens in the wilderness, to exhibit among us the last humiliation of\nmind and body\u2014a dealer in forbidden arts, attempting to impose on the\ncredulity of the populace, and a prophet armed with the fearful knowledge\nof our approaching fall. To me there was an expression in his countenance\nthat partook of all; yet there was a something different from all in\nthe glaring eye, the livid scorn of the lip, and the wild and yet grand\noutline of features which appeared alike overflowing with malignity and\nmajesty.\n\n[Sidenote: The Tempest of a Soul]\n\nNo man thought of interrupting him. A powerful interest hushed every\nvoice of the multitude, and the only impulse was eagerness to hear the\nlofty wisdom or the fatal tidings that must be deposited with such a\nbeing. He himself seemed to be overwhelmed with the magnitude of the\nthoughts that he was commissioned to disclose. He stood for a while with\nthe look of one oppressed by a fearful dream, his bosom heaving, his\nteeth gnashing, every muscle of his meager frame swelling and quivering.\nHe clasped his bony arms across his breast, as if to repress the\nagitation that impeded his words; he stamped on the ground, in apparent\nwrath at the faculties which thus sank under him at the important moment;\nat last the tempest of his soul broke forth:\n\n\u201cJudah! thou wert as a lion\u2014thou wert as the king of the forest, when he\nwent up to the mountains to slay, and from the mountains came down to\ndevour. Thou wert as the garden of Eden; every precious stone was thy\ncovering; the sardine, the topaz, and the beryl were thy pavements; thy\nfountains were of silver, and thy daughters who walked in thy groves were\nas the cherubim and the seraphim.\n\n\u201cJudah! thy temple was glorious as the sun-rising, and thy priests were\nthe wise of the earth. Kings came against thee, and their bones were an\noffering; the fowls of the air devoured them; the foxes brought their\nyoung, and feasted them upon the mighty.\n\n\u201cJudah! thou wert as a fire in the midst of the nations\u2014a fire upon an\naltar; who shall quench thee? A sword over the neck of the heathen; who\nshall say unto thee, Smite no more! Thou wert as the thunder and the\nlightning; thou camest from thy place, and the earth was dark. Thou didst\nthunder, and the nations shook, and the fire of thy indignation consumed\nthem.\u201d\n\nThe voice in which this extraordinary being uttered those words was like\nthe thunder. The multitude listened with breathless awe. The appeal was\nto them a renewal of the times of inspiration, and they awaited with\noutstretched hands and quivering countenances the sentence that their\npassions interpreted into the will of Heaven.\n\nThe figure lifted up his glance, which had hitherto been fixed on the\nground; and whether it was the work of fancy or reality, I thought that\nthe glance threw an actual beam of fire across the upturned visages of\nthe myriads that filled every spot on which a foot could rest\u2014roof, wall,\nand ground.\n\nBowing his head, and raising his hands in the most solemn adoration\ntoward the Temple, he pursued, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, yet\nindescribably impressive:\n\n\u201cSons of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob! people elect and holy! will you\nsuffer that house of holiness to be the scoff of the idolater? Will you\nsee the polluted sacrifice laid upon its altars? Will you be slaves in\nthe presence of the house of David?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Outcry of the Multitude]\n\nA rising outcry of the multitude showed how deeply they felt his words. A\nfierce smile lightened across his features at the sound. He erected his\ncolossal form, and cried out like the roar of a whirlwind:\n\n\u201cThen, men of Judah! be strong, and follow the hand that led you through\nthe sea and through the desert. Is that hand shortened that it cannot\nsave? Break off this accursed league with the sons of Belial. Fly every\nman to arms, for the glory of the mighty people. Go, and let the sword\nthat smote the Canaanite smite the Roman.\u201d\n\nHe was answered with furious exultation. Swords and poniards were\nbrandished in the air. The safety of the Roman officers became\nendangered, and I, with some of the elders, dreading a result which\nmust throw fatal obstacles in the way of pacification, attempted to\ncontrol the popular violence by reason and entreaty. But the spirit of\nthe Romans, haughty with conquest and long contempt of the multitude,\ndisdained to take precautions with a mob, and they awaited with palpable\ncontempt the subsiding of this city effervescence. This silent scorn,\nwhich probably stung the deeper for its silence, was retorted to by\nclamors of unequivocal rage. The mysterious disturber saw the storm\ncoming, and flinging a furious gesture toward the Roman camps, which lay\nglittering in the sunshine along the hills, he rushed into the loftiest\nlanguage of malediction.\n\n\u201cTake up a lament for the Roman,\u201d he shouted. \u201cHe comes like a leviathan;\nhe troubleth the waters with his presence, and the rivers behold him and\nare afraid.\n\n[Sidenote: The Prophecy of Doom]\n\n\u201cThus saith the king, He who holdeth Israel in the hollow of His hand:\nI will spread My net over thee, and My people shall drag thee upon the\nshore; I will leave thee to rot upon the land; I will fill the beasts of\nthe earth with thee, until they shall come and find thee, dry bones and\ndust\u2014even thy glory turned into a taint and a scorn.\n\n\u201cLift up a cry over Rome and say, Thou art the leopard; thy jaws are\nred with blood, and thy claws are heavy because of the multitude of the\nslain; thy spots are glorious, and thy feet are like wings for swiftness.\nBut thy time is at hand. My arrow shall smite through thee; My sword\nshall go through thee; I will lay thy flesh upon the hills; thy blood\nshall be red in the rivers; the pits shall be full of thee.\n\n\u201cFor thus saith the king: I have not forsaken My children. For My\npleasure I have given them over for a while to the hands of the\noppressor; but they have loved Me\u2014they have come before Me, and offered\nup sacrifices; and shall I desert the land of the chosen, the sons of the\nglorious, My people Israel!\u201d\n\nA universal outcry of wrath and triumph followed this allusion to the\nnational vengeance.\n\n\u201cHo!\u201d exclaimed the figure. \u201cMen of Israel, hear the words of wisdom. The\nburden of Rome. By the swords of the mighty will I cause her multitude to\nfall; the terrible and the strong shall be on thee, city of the idolater;\nthey shall hew off thy cuirasses as the hewer of wood, and of thy shields\nthey shall make vessels of water. There shall be fire in thy palaces,\nand the sword. Thy sons and thy daughters shall they consume, and thy\nprecious things shall be a spoil when the king shall give the sign from\nthe sanctuary.\u201d\n\nHe paused, and, lifting up his fleshless arm, stood like a giant bronze\npointing to the Temple.\n\nTo the utter astonishment of all, a vapor was seen to ascend from the\nsummit of Mount Moriah, wreathing and white like the smoke that used to\nmark the daily sacrifice. Our first conception was that this great rite\nwas resumed, and the shout of joy was on our lips. But the vapor had\nscarcely parted from the crown of the hill when it blackened and began\nto whirl with extraordinary rapidity; it thenceforth less ascended than\nshot up, perpetually darkening and distending. The horizon grew dim; the\ncloudy canopy above continued to spread and revolve; lightning began to\nquiver through, and we heard, at intervals, low peals of thunder. But\nno rain fell, and the wind was lifeless. Nothing could be more complete\nthan the calm; not a hair of our heads was moved, yet the heart of the\ncountless multitude was penetrated with the dread of some impending\ncatastrophe that restrained every voice, and the silence itself was awful.\n\nIn the climate of Judea we were accustomed to the rapid rise and violent\ndevastations of tempests. But the rising of this storm, so closely\nconnected with the appearance of the strange summoner that it almost\nfollowed his command, invested a phenomenon, at all times fearful,\nwith a character that might have struck firmer minds than those of the\nenthusiasts round him. To heighten the wonder, the progress of the storm\nstill seemed faithful to the command. Wherever this man of mystery waved\nhis arm, there rushed a sheet of cloud. The bluest tract of heaven was as\nblack as night, at the moment when he turned his ominous presence toward\nit, until there was no more sky to be obliterated, and but for the fiery\nstreaks that tore through, we should have stood under a canopy of solid\ngloom.\n\nAt length the whirlwind, that we had seen driving and rolling the clouds\nlike billows, burst upon us, scattering fragments of the buildings far\nand wide, and cutting a broad way through the overthrown multitude.\nThen superstition and terror were loud-mouthed. The populace, crushed\nand dashed down, exclaimed that a volcano was throwing up flame from\nthe mount of the Temple; that sulfurous smokes were rising through the\ncrevices of the ground; that the rocking of an earthquake was felt; and\nstill more terrible, that beings, not to be looked on, nor even to be\nnamed, were hovering round them in the storm.\n\n[Sidenote: A Wild Panic]\n\nThe general rush of the people, in which hundreds were trampled and in\nwhich nothing but the most violent efforts could keep any on their feet,\nbore me away for a while. The struggle was sufficient to absorb all my\nsenses, for nothing could be more perilous. The darkness was intense,\nthe peals of the storm were deafening, and the howlings and fury of\nthe crowd, trampling and being trampled on, and fighting for life in\nblindness and despair, with hand, foot, and dagger, made an uproar louder\nthan that of the storm. In this conflict, rather of demons than of men, I\nwas whirled away in eddy after eddy, until chance brought me again to the\nfoot of the elevation.\n\nThere I beheld a new wonder. A column of livid fire stood upon it,\nreaching to the clouds. I could discern the outline of a human form\nwithin. But while I expected to see it drop dead or blasted to a cinder,\nthe flame spread over the ground, and I saw its strange inhabitant making\nsigns like those of incantation. He drew a circle upon the burning soil,\npoured out some unguent which diffused a powerful and rich odor, razed\nthe skin of his arm with a dagger, and let fall some drops of blood into\nthe blaze.\n\nI shuddered at the sight of those palpable appeals to the power of Evil,\nbut I was pressed upon by thousands, and retreat was impossible. The\nstrange being then, with a ghastly smile of triumph, waved the weapon\ntoward the Roman camps.\n\n[Sidenote: The Beginnings of Vengeance]\n\n\u201cBehold,\u201d he cried, \u201cthe beginnings of vengeance!\u201d\n\nA thunder-roll that almost split the ear echoed round the hills. The\ndarkness passed away with it. Above Jerusalem the sky cleared, and\ncleared into a translucence and blue splendor unrivaled by the brightest\nsunshine. The people, wrought up to the highest expectancy, shouted at\nthis promise of a prouder deliverance, and exclaiming, \u201cGoshen! Goshen!\u201d\nlooked breathlessly for the completion of the plague upon the more than\nEgyptian oppressor. They were not held long in suspense.\n\n[Sidenote: The Bursting of the Storm]\n\nThe storm had cleared away above our heads, only to gather in deeper\nterrors round the circle of hills on which we could see the enemy in\nthe most overwhelming state of alarm. The clouds rushed on, ridge over\nridge, until the whole horizon seemed shut in by a wall of night towering\nto the skies. I heard the deep voice of the orator; at the utterance\nof some strange words, a gleam played round his dagger\u2019s point, and the\nwall of darkness was instantly a wall of fire. The storm was let loose in\nits rage. While we stood in daylight and in perfect calm, the lightning\npoured like sheets of rain or gushes of burning metal from a furnace\nupon the enemy. The vast circuit of the camps was instantly one blaze.\nThe wind tore everything before it with irresistible violence. We saw\nthe tents swept off the ground and driven far over the hills in flames\nlike meteors; the piles of arms and banners blown away; the soldiery\nclinging to the rocks, flying together in helpless crowds, or scattering,\nlike maniacs, with hair and garments on fire; the baggage and military\nmachines, the turrets and ramparts, sinking in flames; the beasts of\nburden plunging and rushing through the lines, or lying in smoldering\nheaps where the lightning first smote them. All was conflagration!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LII\n\n_The Prophecy of Evil_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Roman Embassy Grows Indignant]\n\nThe Roman embassy had hitherto remained in stern composure. The\nvisitations of nature they were accustomed to sustain; the perturbations\nof a Jewish mob were beneath the notice of the universal conquerors. But\nthe sight of the havoc among their countrymen shook their stoicism, and\nthe cavalry that formed the escort burst into indignant murmurs at the\nexultation of the multitude, until the commander of the troop, whose arms\nand bearing showed him to be of the highest rank, unable to restrain his\nfeelings, spurred to the front of the embarrassed mission.\n\n\u201cHow long, senators,\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cshall we stand here to be scoffed\nat by these wretches? The imperial guard feels itself disgraced by such\na service. Will you have the squadron openly mutiny? If they should ride\naway and leave us to ourselves, who could blame them? What will the noble\nTitus say, when we return to tell him that we stood by and listened to\nthe taunts of those cooped-up slaves, on him, the army, and Rome? But how\nlong shall we be suffered even to listen? Linger here, and before the day\nis out your lives will be at the mercy of those assassins. And by the\nimmortal gods, richly shall we all deserve our fate, for having come into\nthis den but as masters riding over the necks of those lost and lowest of\nmankind.\u201d\n\nIt was fortunate for the speaker that he spoke in a language but little\nknown to our bold peasantry. The senators held their peace, and waited\nfor the subsiding of the popular effervescence.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cThe Roman rushed at him with his drawn falchion.\u201d\n\n [_see page 397._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n\u201cNoble \u00c6milius!\u201d exclaimed the fiery youth, to a grave and\nlofty-countenanced man at the head of the mission, \u201cto remain here is\nonly to risk your safety and the honor of the Emperor. Treaty with this\npeople is out of the question. Give me the order to disperse this rabble,\nand a single charge will decide the affair.\u201d\n\nHe threw himself forward on his horse\u2019s neck, and fixed his look eagerly\non the senator\u2019s countenance. But the old Roman was immovable. The man\nof prophecy, who had stood with his robe wrapped round his arms in an\nattitude of contemptuous ease, awaiting the result of the demand, burst\ninto loud laughter. The young soldier\u2019s indignation was roused by this\nnew object. He turned to the scorner, and crying out, \u201cHo! is it you,\nmiscreant? You at least shall not escape me,\u201d flung his lance full\nagainst his bosom. I saw the weapon strike with prodigious force, but it\nmight as well have struck a rock. It flew into splinters.\n\nThe Roman rushed at him with his drawn falchion. His strange antagonist\nstood without moving a limb, and only raised his cold, large eye. The\ncharger, in his fiercest bound, instantly swerved, and had nearly\nunseated his rider. Nothing could bring him forward again. Spur and voice\nwere useless. The animal, a magnificent jet black, of the largest Arab\nbreed, strong as a bull and bold as a lion, could not abide that stern\neye. He galloped madly round and round, but the attempt to force him\nagainst the stranger stopped him as if he were stabbed. Then with every\nmuscle in his frame palpitating, his broad chest heaving, his nostrils\nbreathing out vapor, and the foam flying over his front like snow, he\nwould plunge and rear until, mastering his powerful rider, he wheeled\nround and darted away.\n\n[Sidenote: A Marvel of Marvels]\n\nThe shouts of scorn that rose from the populace at every fresh failure,\ndoubly enraged the young Roman. He made a final effort, and grasping\nthe bridle in both hands, and dashing in the spur, at length succeeded\nin forcing the wearied charger on. The noble creature, at one immense\nleap, reached the fatal spot. But there he was fixed as if some power\nhad transformed him into stone. He no longer staggered nor swerved, but\ncrouching down, with his feet thrust forward, his crest stooped, his\nnostrils on the ground, and his bright eye strained and filmy, as if he\nwere growing blind, stood gazing with a look of almost human horror. The\nfurious rider struck him on the head with the flat of his falchion. The\ncharger gathered up his limbs at the blow, reared straight as a column,\nand bellowing, plunged upon his head. There was a general cry of terror,\neven among the multitude, and they rushed forward to help him to rise.\nBut he rose no more. He rolled over and over his rider, and, stretching\nout his limbs in a convulsion, died.\n\nThe tumult was on the point of being renewed, for the soldiery pushed\nforward to bear away their officer, who lay like a corpse; but the crowd\nhad already covered the ground, and blows were given on both sides.\nIndignant at the interruption of the armistice, and the injury that\nthreatened the sacred person of ambassadors, I forced my way through the\ncrowd; by exerting a strength with which few could cope, rescued the\nyoung Roman, and delivering him to the mission, protested against their\nconstruing the casual violence of rioters into the determination of the\npeople.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Calms Resentment]\n\nI had partially succeeded in calming their resentment, and in restraining\nthe bloodthirsty weapons that were already glittering in numberless\nhands, when a sound like that of a trumpet, distant but blown with\ntremendous force, struck every ear at once.\n\nI looked involuntarily to the man who had already been our disturber. He\npointed to the heavens. A fragment of cloud, that seemed to have escaped\nfrom the mass of the tempest, was floating along the zenith. He took up\nhis parable:\n\n\u201cHave I not covered the heavens with a cloud? saith the Mighty One. Have\nI not said to the sun, Be dark; and to the moon and stars, Be ashamed?\nHave I not hidden Mine enemies in the shroud, and said to the whirlwind,\nGo forth and slay?\u201d\n\nHis gesture turned all eyes to the wrecks of the Roman camp, where\nthe whirlwind continued to ravage and the thunders still roared. Then\nthrowing himself forward with a look full of wild grandeur, and in a\nvoice hollow and appalling as the storm, he exclaimed:\n\n\u201cBehold! this day shall a wonder be wrought among you\u2014this day shall a\nmighty thing be brought to pass. Kings shall see it and tremble; yea,\nthe heathen shall melt before thee. Their strength shall be as water and\ntheir hearts as the burning flax. Sorrow shall be on them, as the locust\non the green field, and they shall flee as from a lion. Behold! in a\ncloud shall a sword be brandished before thee; in smoke and in fire shalt\nthou conquer. For His angel shall come, and the sword and the flame shall\nat this hour be a sign unto Israel!\u201d\n\nWhether by the proverbial sagacity of the wanderers of the desert, by one\nof those coincidences which so curiously come to sustain the credit of\ndaring conjecture, or by knowledge from some darker sources, the little\norbed vapor began to lengthen and rapidly assumed the shape of a sword.\n\nDreading the popular power of imposture, and the uses to which it would\ninevitably be applied, I was glad that this extraordinary being had thus\nput himself upon his trial; and I stood gazing in eager expectation that\nsome passing gust would dissipate at once the cloud and the reputation of\nthe prophet. Yet utterly scorning the common pretensions of the rambling\npractisers of forbidden arts, I knew that awful things had been done;\nthat most of all, in these latter days of our country, strange influences\nwere let loose, perhaps to plunge into deeper ruin a people guiltily\nprone to take refuge in delusions. I had heard prophecies, hideous and\nunholy, which were never taught by man; I had seen a command of the\nelements that utterly defied philosophy to account for it; if in the last\nvengeance of Heaven, evil spirits were ever suffered to go forth and give\ntheir power to evil men, for the purpose of binding in the faster chains\nof falsehood a race who loved a lie, it was in those hours of signs and\nwonders which might, if possible, deceive the very elect.\n\n[Sidenote: The Flaming Sword]\n\nTo my astonishment, the cloud suddenly changed its color; from white it\nbecame intensely red; and in a few moments more it burst into a flame\nthat threw a broad reflection upon the whole atmosphere. It was a vast\nfalchion of fire. And from that hour to the last of the glorious and\nunhappy city of David, that flaming sword\u2014the sign of a wrath predicted\na thousand years before\u2014blazed day and night over Jerusalem!\n\nIts instant effect was terrible. The multitude, already indignant\nagainst the Romans, and restrained only by my desperate efforts, were\nnow roused to the highest pitch of presumption. To doubt of the help of\nHeaven was impiety, after this open wonder; to spare an hour between\nthis divine command and the extermination of the idolater was sacrilege.\nThey poured round the unfortunate troop and instantly overwhelmed them,\nas an earthquake would have overwhelmed them. A mass of human life,\ndense as the ground it trod upon, broke over them. The Romans struggled\nheroically; I saw their charges often make fearful way, and their swords\nand lances dripping with blood every time they were whirled round their\nheads. But the conflict was too unequal; one by one those brave men were\ntorn down; I saw them swept along by the torrent, fewer and fewer, still\nabove the living wave; gradually separated more widely from each other;\neach man faintly struggling for himself, flinging his feeble arms to the\nright and left, till, dizzy with fatigue and despair, at last he went\ndown, and the roaring tide closed over him.\n\n[Sidenote: Superstition and Inexpiable Murder]\n\nAll perished, and a day of hope was closed in superstition, treachery,\nand inexpiable murder.\n\nThe dreadful uproar sank as suddenly as it had risen. The Roman troop\nlay a heap of dead. I turned away from the sight, but at the instant of\nturning I saw the prophet of evil, whether impostor or magician, whether\nman or demon, spring into their midst with a roar of laughter. I shrank\naway. But I heard that terrible laugh ringing through all the streets of\nJerusalem!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LIII\n\n_A Fatal Sign_\n\n\nIt was night, and the greater portion of the city lay between me and\nhome. To traverse it was still a matter of danger. Furious festivity\nhad succeeded to furious conflict; the roving mountaineers made little\ndifference between a stranger and an enemy, and whether inflamed with\nwine or triumph, the carousers on that night were the masters of\nJerusalem.\n\nI kept my course through the less frequented ways, and leaving on\neither side the great avenues, crowded with tents and glittering with\nillumination, committed myself to the quiet light of the moon.\n\nBut in choosing the more solitary streets, I was, without recollecting\nit, led into the open place where the late disturbance had begun, and I\nfelt some vague dread of passing a spot on which had appeared a being so\nsingular as the leader of the tumult.\n\n[Sidenote: A Wounded Soldier]\n\nBy a compromise with my prudence, I kept as far from the hillock as\npossible, and was moving rapidly by the wall of one of the huge buildings\nof Herod, when I heard a groan. In the nervousness of the time, and\ndoubtful from what region of earth or air my antagonist, in that place of\nspells, might come, I drew my dagger with a sensation that I had never\nfelt in the field, and setting my back against the wall, stood on my\ndefense. But a wounded man, the utterer of the groan, now tottered into\nthe light and fell before me. I recognized the commander of the escort.\nThe dying struggles of his charger had crushed him, and the multitude had\nabandoned him to his fate.\n\nTo leave him where he was, was to leave him to perish. I owed something\nto the survivor of the unfortunate mission, and my short consultation\nclosed by carrying him on my shoulders to the door of my comfortless\ndwelling.\n\nThe Roman had learned to distrust Jewish fidelity. The gloom inside the\nentrance looked the very color of secret murder. Even the dismantled\nappearance of the exterior was enough for suspicion, and he firmly\nordered that I should terminate my good offices at the threshold.\nIrritated by his obvious meaning, I left him to his wish, and placing\nhim in the fullest enjoyment of such security as the open street and the\nmoonlight could give, took my farewell, bidding him in future to have a\nbetter opinion of mankind.\n\nYet I was to be startled in my turn. As I climbed the broken staircases,\nI saw an unusual light in the chambers above. Accustomed as I was to\nreverses, I felt tenfold alarm from the preciousness of my stake. The\nferocious bands that crowded the streets, inflamed with wine and blood,\ncould have no scruples where plunder tempted them; and in the strong\npersuasion that some misfortune had happened in my long absence, I\nlingered in doubt whether I should not return to the streets, collect\nwhat assistance I could find among the passersby, and crush the robbers\nby main force. But sudden exclamations and hurried feet above left me no\ntime; I darted up the shattered steps and breathlessly threw open the\ndoor.\n\n[Sidenote: Messengers of Good Tidings]\n\nWell might I wonder. I saw a superb room, hung with tapestry, a table\nin the center covered with plate and viands, a rich lamp illuminating\nthe chamber, stately furniture, a fire blazing on a tripod and throwing\na cheering warmth and delicious odor round; yet, to enjoy all this,\nnot a living creature. But whatever my anxieties might be, they were\ndelightfully scattered by the voice of Esther, who came flying toward me\nwith outstretched arms and a face bright with joy. From an inner chamber\nfollowed more messengers of good tidings\u2014Miriam and Salome leading\nConstantius! They had watched over him from the time of my departure\nwith a sickly alternation of hope and fear; as the evening approached he\nseemed dying. Salome, with the jealousy of deep sorrow, desired to be\nleft alone with him; and the two sad listeners at the door expected at\nevery moment the burst of agony announcing her irreparable loss. They\nheard a cry of joy; the torpor was gone, and Constantius was sitting up,\nraised to new life, wondering at all round him, and uttering the raptures\nof gratitude and love.\n\nThe sound that had impelled me to my abrupt entrance was the joy of\nmy family at bringing the recovered patient in triumph from his weary\nbed into view of the comforts provided for him and for me. The change\nwrought in the chamber itself was explained by the presence of two\nold domestics who, in the flight of the former possessors, had been\noverlooked, and suffered to hide, rather than live, in a corner of the\nruin. They had contrived in the general spoliation to secrete some of the\nprecious things which the haste of plunder had not time to seize. The\npresence of a noble family under the honored roof once more brought out\ntheir feelings and treasures together, and by the graceful dexterity of\nMiriam and Esther were those naked walls converted into an apartment not\nunworthy to be inhabited by themselves.\n\nWhile I was indulging in the luxury which those gentle ministers\nprovided, the thought of the unfortunate Roman occurred to me. I slightly\nmentioned him, and every voice was raised to have him brought in from the\nhazards of the night. Constantius, feeble as he was, rose from his couch\nto assist in this work of hospitality; but he was under a fond tyrant,\nwho would not suffer her commands to be questioned. Salome\u2019s orders were\nobeyed; and to one of the old domestics and me was destined the undivided\nhonor.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Goes to a Roman\u2019s Aid]\n\nI found the wounded officer lying on the spot where I had parted with\nhim, gazing on the moon and humming a gay air of Italy in a most\nmelancholy tone. He had made up his reckoning with this world, and calmly\nwaiting until some Jewish knife should put an end to his troubles, he\ndetermined to save himself from the trouble of thinking, and die like a\nman who had nothing better to do. But the struggle was against nature,\nand as I slowly felt my way along the obscure passages, I had time to\nhear the song flutter and now and then a groan supersede it altogether.\nMy step now caught his quick ear, and I heard in return the ringing of a\nsword plucked sharply from the scabbard.\n\nThe bold Roman, reckless as he was of life, was evidently resolved not to\nlet it go without its price, and it was probably fortunate for me, or my\nold and tottering fellow philanthropist, that the ruinous state of the\npassages compelled us to take time in our advance.\n\n\u201cTwo of them,\u201d I heard him mutter as we gradually worked our way toward\nthe light; \u201ctwo, and perhaps twenty at their backs.\u201d\n\nHe tried to raise himself, leaning on one hand, and with the other feebly\npointing the falchion to keep us off.\n\n\u201cThieves,\u201d said he, \u201clet us understand each other. If you must cut my\nthroat, you must fight for it, and, after all, I have nothing to make\nit worth your trouble. By Jove and Venus,\u201d and he laughed with the\nstrange jocularity that sometimes besets the bold in the last peril, \u201cthe\ncleverest robber in Jerusalem could make nothing of me.\u201d\n\nI stood in the shadow, while he again tried his expostulation.\n\n[Sidenote: The Roman Negotiates]\n\n\u201cMy clothes would not sell for the smallest coin in your sashes; I could\nnot furnish out a scarecrow\u2014yet Jewish patriots, or thieves, or saints,\nor all together, I will tell you how you can make money of me. Take me to\nthe Roman camp, and I answer for your fortune on the spot.\u201d\n\nI laughed in my turn.\n\n\u201cBy all that\u2019s honest, I never was more serious in my life,\u201d said he;\n\u201cfar be it from me to trifle with heroes of your profession. You shall\nhave my helmetful of gold Vespasians.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said I, coming forward, \u201cyou shall live at least for\nto-night; but there is one condition which I can not give up\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, that I give you two helmetsful instead of one. Agreed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe condition from which nothing can make me recede is\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cThree times the money, or ten times the money?\u201d\n\nI pondered. The old domestic stared at us both.\n\n\u201cWhy, you extravagant Jew, have you no conscience? Recollect how little\nthe lives of half the generals in the service are worth half the sum. But\nsay anything short of the military chest\u2014out with the condition at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat you come instantly with me\u2014to supper.\u201d\n\nThe formidable stipulation was gaily acceded to. The old domestic and I\nsupported him up the stairs, whose condition, as he afterward allowed,\nled him still to nurture shrewd doubt of Jewish hospitality. But when\nI opened the door of the chamber and he saw the striking preparations\nwithin, he uttered a cry of surprise, and turning, bowed with Italian\ngrace, in tacit acknowledgment of the wrong that he had done me.\n\n[Sidenote: Septimius Recognized]\n\nAs I led him forward and the light fell on his features, I saw Esther\u2019s\ncountenance glow with crimson. The Roman pronounced her name and flew\nover to her. Miriam\u2014we all in the same moment recognized the stranger,\nand every lip at once uttered \u201cSeptimius!\u201d\n\nA few campaigns in the imperial guard had changed the handsome Italian\nboy, the friend and favorite of Constantius, into the showy officer, the\nfriend and favorite of everybody; with the elegance of the court, and the\nfreedom of the camp, he had inherited from nature the easy lightness and\nanimation of temper that neither can give. Nothing could be more amusing\nthan the restless round of anecdote that he kept up through the night.\nThe circle in which he found himself, contrasted with the wretchedness\nof the few hours before, let his recollections flow with wild vivacity.\nHis stories of the imperial tent were new to us, and he told them with\nthe taste of a man of high breeding and the sarcastic finish of a keen\nobserver of the absurdities that will creep in even among the mighty and\nthe wise of the world.\n\nIn our several ways he delighted us all. Constantius seemed to gain new\nhealth in laughing at the histories of his military friends. Salome\u2019s\nface glistened with the vividness so long chased away by sorrow, as the\nmanners of Rome passed before her in the liveliest colors of pleasantry.\nEsther treasured every word with an emotion that fluctuated across her\nbeauty like the opening and shutting of a rose under the evening breeze.\nI was interested by the pungent sketches of public character that started\nup in the midst of sportive description. Miriam alone was reluctant, and\nher glance frequently rested with pain on Esther\u2019s hectic cheek. But even\nMiriam at times gave way to the voice of the charmer; her fears were\nforgotten, and she joined in the general smile.\n\nWhen the women retired, we held a short consultation on the means of\nrestoring our guest to his friends. In the immediate temper of the\ncity, to be seen was certain death, and no pacific intercourse with the\nbesiegers could be expected after our enormous infraction of treaty.\nConstantius urged the despatch of a private messenger to the camp with\nthe proposal of a plan for his escape. To my surprise, and certainly to\nmy gratification, Septimius himself flatly negatived the measure.\n\n[Sidenote: A Precarious Position]\n\n\u201cIt has too much hazard for my taste,\u201d said he sportively. \u201cYour\nmessenger will probably be caught by the people and as probably hanged;\nor if he reach the camp, he will be hanged there inevitably. Jewish\ncredit, I regret to say, will not stand high within these twelve hours,\nwith my countrymen. If the fellow die here like a woman, with a story in\nhis mouth, you will all be brought under the justice of your sovereign\nlord the mob. If my countrymen inflict the ax, you are not the safer,\nfor every peasant about the camp is a spy, and the news will travel\nhere in the next half-hour, and after all, your trouble will be thrown\naway. Titus has good-nature enough, and probably would not wish to see\nme hoisted on the top of a pike on your gates; but he is a furious\ndisciplinarian, swears by the law of honor and arms, and is, I can well\nbelieve, chafing like a roused lion against every one who has had a share\nin this day\u2019s business. I myself should have a chance of hanging, for an\nexample, if I returned before his imperial displeasure had time to cool.\nSo I must trespass on your hospitality for a day or two.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what is to be finally done?\u201d said I. \u201cThe armistice can never be\ntried again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not? Do you think that the loss of a few troopers can make any\ndifference? Out of twenty thousand cavalry, we can easily spare a\nhundred. Those things have happened once a week since the beginning of\nthe campaign. They agree with our notions admirably. The survivors get\npromotion, and whatever libation they may offer for their good luck; it\nis certainly not tears. A stupid officer, and on this occasion I fairly\nreckon myself among the number, is taken off the muster-roll, before he\nmight have the opportunity of doing mischief by some blunder on a larger\nscale. Experience is gained; we are entrapped no more, at least in the\nsame way; and a group of unfortunates, who have spent half their lives\nin being browbeaten by their superiors, suddenly start into rank, become\nsuperiors themselves, and learn to browbeat in their turn. You will have\nthe armistice again in a week.\u201d\n\nThis confession of soldiership repelled me a little, but its air of\nfrankness and disregard of chance and care carried it off showily. I,\ntoo, was but a peasant-soldier, with my heart in everything. The man\nbefore me was a son of the camp, the professional warrior, whose business\nit was to stifle all feelings but those of the camp. Yet heroism and\nhard-heartedness\u2014I could not join them. I had still something to learn,\nand the gay philosopher of the sword lost ground with me.\n\nI was retiring for the night when I felt the soft hand of Miriam on my\nshoulder.\n\n\u201cI have been anxious,\u201d she said, \u201cto ask your opinion about this Roman.\u201d\n\nHer fine countenance, that reflected every emotion of her spirit like a\nmirror, showed that the subject was one of deep interest. \u201cIs misfortune\nalways to pursue us, Salathiel?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what new shape now?\u201d said I. \u201cWe have spent some hours, as amusing\nas I ever remember. What can have occurred since this morning, when your\nphilosophy made so light of our actual evils?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam\u2019s Suspicion]\n\n\u201cFor external evils I have but little feeling,\u201d was her answer; \u201cbut I\nsee in the chance that brought the Roman here to-night something of the\nfate which you have so often thought to follow your house. I tremble for\nEsther\u2019s peace of mind. What if she should be attracted by this idolater?\u201d\n\n\u201cEsther! my darling Esther! love an alien, a Roman, an idolater? What an\nabyss you open before me!\u201d I exclaimed, with a sudden sense of evil.\n\nThere was a pause; my wife again spoke.\n\n\u201cWhile Septimius remained among us in the mountains, I saw with terror\nthat Esther\u2019s beauty attracted him. His Italian elegance was even then\na dangerous charm for a mind so inexperienced and so sensitive as hers.\nI knew the impossibility of their union, and rejoiced when his recovery\nallowed of his leaving the palace. But for a long period after, Esther\nwas evidently unhappy; her cheerfulness gave way; she became fonder of\nsolitude, and I believe that nothing but extreme care and the change of\nscene which followed, preserved her from the grave.\u201d\n\n\u201cMiriam! I have no comfort to offer. I am a stricken man; misfortune must\nbe my portion. But if anything were to bereave me of that girl, I feel\nthat my heart would break. We must delay no longer. By the first light\nthe Roman shall quit this house\u2014this city. He shall not stay another hour\nto poison the peace of my family\u2014the only peace that I now can possess in\nthis world.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet rashness must not disgrace what is true wisdom, my Salathiel. The\nRoman is here protected by the laws of courtesy. You can not send him\nforth without giving him over to the horrid temper of the populace. A few\ndays may make that escape easy which would now be impossible. Besides, I\nmay have done him injustice, and mistaken the common pleasure of seeing\nunexpected friends for the attempt to mislead the affections of our\ninnocent and ardent child.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel on His Guard]\n\n\u201cNo! By the first light he leaves this roof. The truth glares on me.\nI might have seen it in his looks. His language, however general, was\nperpetually directed to Esther by some personal allusion. His voice lost\nits ease when he answered a syllable of hers. After she spoke he affected\nabstraction\u2014an old artifice. His manner is too well calculated to disturb\nthe mind of woman\u2014and most of all of woman cursed with feeling and\ngenius. Esther has already exalted this showy stranger into a wonder. I\nmust break the spell. What is to become of her, of me, man of misery? By\nthe first dawn the Roman takes his departure.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Ominous Sword Appears]\n\nIn the bitterness of soul I turned from the chamber, where the lamp was\nstill burning and the glittering table looked too bright for the gloomy\nspirit of the hour. The cool air that breathed through a casement led me\ntoward it, and disinclined to speak and holding Miriam\u2019s gentle hand, I\nlistened to the confused murmurs of the city far below. I suddenly felt\nthe hand in mine tremble convulsively. Miriam\u2019s face was pale with fear;\nshe stood with lips apart and breathless, brows raised, eyes straining\nupward. In utter alarm I asked the cause. She lifted the hand, which\nhad fallen by her side, and slowly, like the staff of the soothsayer,\npointed it to the heavens. The cause was there. The ominous sword had\nfor the first time met her eye. The blaze, which even in noonday was\nfearfully visible, in midnight was tremendous. A blade of the deepest hue\nof gore stretched to the horizon, pouring from its edge perpetual showers\nof crimson flame, that looked like showers of fresh blood. Boundless\nslaughter was in the emblem. Beyond it the circle of the sky was wan;\nthe stars sickened, and the moon, tho at the full, hung like an orb of\nlead. The mighty falchion, the pledge of an inevitable judgment,[49]\nextinguished all the beneficent splendors of heaven.\n\n\u201cThere, there is the sign that I have seen for months in my dreams,\u201d said\nMiriam in an awed voice; \u201cthat has haunted me when I laid my head upon\nthe pillow; that has been before my mind in the day wherever I moved;\nthat I have seen coloring every object, every moment of my life since\nI entered these fated walls. I have struggled to drive away the horrid\nimage; I have wept and prayed. But it was where nothing could unfix it.\nIt was pictured on my soul, and with it came other images, fearful, tho\nthey brought me no terrors\u2014melancholy sights to those who have no hope\nbut here, yet glorious to the servants of the truth, Salathiel. I have\nhad warnings. I must never leave the city of David.\u201d\n\nShe knelt in the deep prayer of the soul. Her words came on me with the\npower of prophecy.\n\n\u201cKing and protector of Israel!\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cis this to be the suffering\nof Thy people? On me let Thy wrath be done, but spare her who now kneels\nbefore Thee. Are the pure to be given into the hands of the merciless and\nThy children to be trampled as the ashes of the unholy?\u201d\n\nMy impatient voice caught Miriam\u2019s ear, and she rose with a countenance\nbeaming piety and love.\n\n\u201cSalathiel, we must not murmur. Even that sight of awe, that terrible\nemblem, has taught me the selfishness of my anxieties. What are our\npersonal sorrows to the weight of affliction figured in that instrument\nof supreme justice? The wo of millions, the blood of a nation, the ruin\nof the glorious Law, built by the hands of the Eternal, for the glory and\ngood of mankind, are written in words of flame before our eyes; and can I\ncomplain of the perils which may fall to my share? Henceforth, my husband\nand my love\u201d\u2014and she threw herself into my willing arms\u2014\u201cyou shall never\nbe disturbed with my sorrows; exercise your own powerful understanding,\nguard against evil by your talents and knowledge of life, as far as it\ncan be guarded against by man, and beyond that, cease to repine or fear.\nIn my supplication I have committed our darling child into the hands of\nHim who sitteth within the circle of eternity!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Miriam Comforts Salathiel]\n\nQuivering with every finer feeling of the heart, maternal love, matron\nfaith, and grateful adoration, she hung upon my neck, until as if a\nportion of her noble spirit had passed into mine, I felt a confidence and\na consolation like her own.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LIV\n\n_Concerning Septimius_\n\n\nI was spared the ungraciousness of urging the young soldier\u2019s departure,\nfor when I met him on the next morning his first topic was escape. He had\nbeen since daybreak examining from my turrets the accessible passages of\nthe fortifications, and had even, by the help of a peasant, despatched a\nletter to his friends, requesting either a formal demand of his person\nfrom the Jews, or some private effort to extricate him.\n\nBut this glow of society was transient. In the fall of his charger he had\nbeen violently bruised. He now complained of inward suffering, and his\npallid face and feeble words gave painful proof that he had much still to\nundergo, tho, even if he was perfectly recovered, the crowded battlements\nand the popular rage showed the impossibility of immediate return.\n\n[Sidenote: Vexed and Suspicious]\n\nThree days passed thus drearily. At home I was surrounded by sickness or\nvexed by suspicion\u2014the worst sickness of the mind. Septimius lay in his\nchamber, struggling to laugh, talk, and read away the heavy hours, and\nfinally, like all such strugglers, giving up the task in despair. His\nthoughts were in the Roman camp. He professed gratitude of the deepest\nnature for the service that I had done him now for the second time, if\nsaving so unimportant a life was a service either to him or any one else.\nYet he almost wished that he had been left where he was found.\n\nAt such times his voice sank, and he was evidently thinking of subjects\nnear to his heart.\n\nThen his soldiership would come again\u2014a man could not finish his course\nbetter than among his gallant comrades; and with all his anxiety to\nreturn, he felt no trivial concern as to the view which Titus might\ntake of the whole unfortunate affair. Of justice he was secure; but to\nbe questioned for his military conduct was in itself a degradation. The\nloss of Sempronius, too, the most confidential friend and counselor of\nthe Emperor, would weigh heavily\u2014while there was nothing but his own\ntestimony to sustain his honor against the crowd of secret enemies that\nevery man of military rank was certain to have.\n\n\u201cIn short,\u201d said he, \u201con my sleepless couch I have turned true penitent\nfor the foolish curiosity which prompted me to solicit the command of an\nescort, which would have been by right put under the care of some mere\ntribune.\u201d\n\nI tried to cheer him by saying that his had been only the natural desire\nof an active mind to see so singular a scene as our city offered, or the\nhonorable wish of a soldier to be foremost wherever there was anything to\nbe done.\n\n[Sidenote: Watched by a Slave]\n\n\u201cIt was more than either,\u201d said he; \u201cthere was actual illusion in\nthe case. I now feel that I was practised upon. You know the strange\nconcourse of all kinds of people that follow a camp for all kinds of\npurposes\u2014plunderers, traders, and jugglers, crowding on our movements\nas regularly as the vultures, and with nearly the same objects. For a\nweek past I had found myself beset by an old gibbering slave of this\nclass. Wherever I rode, the fellow was before my eyes; he contrived to\nmingle with my servants, and became a sort of favorite by selling them\ncounterfeit rings and gems at ten times their value. The wretch was\nclever, too, and as my tent-hours began to be disturbed by the unusual\ngaiety of the listeners to his lies, I ordered him to be flogged out of\nthe lines. But twelve hours had not passed before I found him gamboling\nagain, and was about to order the instant infliction of the discipline,\nwhen he threw himself on the ground and implored \u2018a moment of my secret\near.\u2019 Conceive who the fellow was?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe impostor who harangued in the square!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very man. He told me that there were certain contrivances on foot\nto bring me into disfavor with the general, which I knew to be the fact.\nHe gave me the names of the parties, which I felt to be sufficiently\nprobable, and finished by saying that, having so long eaten of my bread\n(a week), and enjoyed my liberality (the scourge), he longed to show his\ngratitude by giving me an opportunity of putting my enemies to silence\non the spot. This opportunity was to solicit the command of the escort\nrequired for the mission. How he gained his wisdom I know not, but I took\nthe advice, went at once to Titus, found that an armistice was being\ndebated in council, that there was some difficulty in the choice of an\nofficer for the service (by no means likely to be a sinecure in point\nof either judgment or hazard), stepped forward, and, to the surprise of\neverybody, disclaimed the privileges of my rank and insisted on marching\nat the head of this handful, this outpost-guard, into the formidable city\nof Jerusalem.\u201d\n\n\u201cHis object, of course,\u201d said I, \u201cwas your destruction. I now see the\ncause of the harangue that roused the people; he was in the pay of the\nconspirators against you. Yet his appearance was striking; there was\na vigor about his look and language, a fierce consciousness of power\nsomewhere, that distinguished him from his race. He came, too, and has\ndisappeared, without my being able to discover whence or whither.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Duped by a Juggler]\n\n\u201cOh, the commonest contrivance of his trade,\u201d was the reply. \u201cThose\nfellows always come and go in cloud, if they can. He was probably beside\nyou half the day before and after. You saw how little he thought of the\nlance, that I sent to bring out his hidden secrets. He doubtless wore\narmor; otherwise there would have been one juggler the less in the world.\nThe truth is, I have been duped, but I have made up my mind to think\nnothing about the dupery. The slave is certainly clever, perhaps to an\nextraordinary degree\u2014a villain undoubtedly, and of the first magnitude.\nBut he has the secret of the cabal against me, and that secret makes him\nat once fit to be employed, and dangerous to be provoked. The blow of the\nlance yesterday showed him that I am not always to be trifled with. In\nfact, prince, you might find it advantageous to employ him occasionally\nyourself. It was he who conveyed my letter to the camp this morning!\u201d\n\nMy look probably expressed my dislike of this species of envoy.\n\n\u201cYou may rely on my honor,\u201d said the Roman, \u201cnot to involve you in any of\nthe fellow\u2019s inventions. Slippery as he is, I have a hold on him, too,\nthat he will not venture to shake off. And now, to let you into full\nconfidence, I expect him back this very night, when he will relieve your\ncity of an inhabitant unworthy of remaining among so polished a people;\nand your house, my prince, of an inmate than whom none on earth can be\nmore grateful for your hospitality.\u201d\n\nHe concluded this mixture of levity, address, and frankness with a\nsmile, and in a tone of elegance, that compelled me to take it all on\nthe more favorable side. But against suffering the step of his strange\nemissary to pollute the threshold in which I lived, I expressed my plain\ndetermination.\n\n[Sidenote: Secret Preparations for Departure]\n\n\u201cFor that, too, I have provided,\u201d said he. \u201cMy intercourse with the\nreprobate is to take place at another quarter of the city, as far as\npossible from this dwelling,\u201d and he laughed, \u201cfor reasons equally of\nmine and yours. I have managed matters so as not to compromise any of my\nfriends; and to make my arrangements on that point still more secure,\nmay I express a wish that neither Constantius nor any other person of\nyour house may be acquainted with my intention of leaving them, and\nI may sincerely say, leaving everything that could gratify my best\nfeelings\u2014this very evening.\u201d\n\nThis was an easy and graceful avoidance of the difficulties which\nhis longer residence threatened. I gave him the promise of secrecy,\ncautioning him against reposing any dangerous confidence in his emissary,\nof whom I had an irrepressible abhorrence, and was about to leave the\nchamber when he caught my hand and said in unusual emotion:\n\n\u201cPrince of Naphtali, I have but one word more to say. You are a man of\nthe world and can make allowance for the giddiness of human passions.\nSome of them are uncontrollable, or at least I have never learned to\ncontrol them, and in me perhaps they belong to inferiority of mind. But\nif on my departure you should hear calumnies against me\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cImpossible, my young friend; or if I should, you may rely on my giving\nthe calumniators a very brief answer.\u201d\n\n\u201cOr if even yourself should be disposed to think severely of me, you know\nthe circumstances under which a man of birth and fortune must be placed\nin our profession.\u201d\n\n\u201cFully, and am much more disposed to regret than to wonder at the\nconsequences.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you should hear that I had been assailed in an evil hour by an\nunexpected temptation which I had long labored to resist, assailed by\nit under the most powerful circumstances that ever yet tasked the human\nmind, circumstances to which, from the beginning of the world, wisdom\nhas been proverbially folly, and resolution weakness; if it should have\nmastered my whole being, soul and body; if I were willing to give up the\nbrightest prospects for its possession\u2014to hazard life, hope, honors\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nThe thought of Esther smote me. I started from him where he stood, with\nhis fine head drooping like the Antinous and his figure the very emblem\nof passionate dejection.\n\n\u201cRoman, you are here as my guest, and as such I have listened to you\nwith patience until now. But if any member of my family is concerned in\nwhat you say, I demand in the most distinct terms that the subject shall\nbe mentioned no more. The daughters of Israel are sacred. Never shall a\nchild of mine wed with those who now lord it over my unhappy country.\u201d\n\nHe spread his hands and eyes in the broadest astonishment.\n\n[Sidenote: Septimius Misunderstood]\n\n\u201cPrince, can it be possible that you have so totally mistaken me? My\nperplexities are of an entirely different nature. The chain with which I\nam bound is not of roses, but of iron; a chain of invisible, yet stern\ninfluences, that haunt my night, and even my day.\u201d\n\nHis voice faltered, and he turned away with a shudder, as from a\nvisionary tormentor.\n\n\u201cWhat? Has that man of desperate arts, if he be man, involved you, too,\nin his net? Dares the impostor soar so high?\u201d\n\nHe clasped his hands.\n\n\u201cYou saw how he defied, how he mocked me, how he spurned me when my\nabhorrence rose to the madness of attempting to strike him. I might\nas well have flung the weapon at the clouds. You saw the instinctive\nterror of my charger. That animal was celebrated in our whole cavalry\nfor its bold, nay, fierce courage. Yet before the eye of that man of\npower and evil, it cowered like a hare and died of his glance. By him the\ntemptation has been offered; of its nature I dare not speak; but it is\ndazzling, fearful, and must\u2014I feel it\u2014finally be fatal.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cBe a Man\u2014a Hero\u201d]\n\n\u201cThen cast it from you at once. Be a man\u2014a hero.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is hopeless\u2014I must be the victim; I am bound irretrievably. Farewell,\nprince; we shall see each other no more.\u201d\n\nHe flung himself upon the couch. I offered him assistance, advice,\nconsolation in vain. The spirit of the soldier was extinguished. The\nvictim of fantastic illusion lay before me. I left him to the care of the\nold domestics, and when I closed the door, thought that I had closed the\ndoor of the grave.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LV\n\n_Salathiel a Prisoner_\n\n\nDuring this period the city presented the turbulent aspect that must\nresult from the concourse of vast warlike multitudes, known only by\nhereditary bickerings. The clansman of Judah looked down upon every human\nbeing; and his countrymen among the rest. The Benjamite retorted it,\nboasted of the inheritance of Jerusalem, and looked down upon the men of\nthe Galilees as rioters and plunderers. These, too, had their objects of\nscorn, and the remnants of Dan and Ephraim were held in merciless disdain\nas the descendants of rebels and idolaters. To deepen those ancient feuds\nwere thrown in the mutual injuries of the factions of John and Simon.\nTheir leaders were now but the shadow of what they had been; yet the\nmemory of their mischiefs survived with a keenness aggravated by the\npublic discovery of the insignificance of the instruments.\n\nGenius in the tyrant offers the consolation that if the chain has galled\nus, it has been bound by a hand made for supremacy. But the last misery\nof the slave is to have been bound by a creature even more contemptible\nthan himself; to have given to folly the homage due to talent; to have\nstooped before the base and trembled under the feeble.\n\n[Sidenote: The Vanity of Conquest]\n\nThe obvious alarm of the enemy, who had now totally withdrawn from the\nplain and were occupied with raising rampart on rampart round their\nseveral camps; the triumph over the unfortunate troop; and the excitement\nof a crowd of pretended prophets and frantic visionaries, filled the\npopulace with every vanity of conquest. The constant exclamation in the\nstreets was: \u201cLet us march to storm the camps and drive the idolater into\nthe sea!\u201d But the new luxuries of the city were too congenial not to act\nas formidable rivals to the popular ambition. No leader appeared, the\nboastings passed away, and the boiling temperament of the warrior had\ntime to run into the safer channel of words and wine.\n\n[Sidenote: Sabat\u2019s Wandering]\n\nStill one melancholy reminder was there. Through the wildest festivity,\nthrough the groups of drinking, dancing, bravadoing, and quarreling,\nSabat the Ishmaelite moved day after day, from dawn till evening, pouring\nout his sentences of condemnation. Nothing could be more singular or more\nawful than his figure as the denouncer of ruin hurried along, like a\nbeing denuded of all objects in life but the one. The multitude in their\nmost extravagant excesses felt undissembled fear before him. I have seen\nthe most ferocious tumult stilled by the sound of his portentous voice;\nthe dagger instantly sheathed; the head buried in the garment; the form\noften prostrate until he passed by. Where he went the song of license was\ndumb; the dance ceased; the cup fell from the hand; and many a lip of\nviolence and blasphemy quivered with long-forgotten prayer.\n\nHow he sustained life none could tell. He was reduced to a shadow; his\neye had the yellow glare of blindness; his once raven hair was of the\nwhiteness of flax. He was an animated corpse. But he strode onward with a\nforce which, if few attempted to resist, none seemed able to withstand;\nhis gestures were rapid and nervous to an extraordinary degree, and his\nvoice was overwhelming. It had the rush and volume of a powerful blast.\nEven in the clamor of the day, through the innumerable voices of the\nstreets, it was audible from the remotest quarters of the city. I heard\nit through the tread and shouts of fifty thousand marching men. But in\ntwilight and silence the eternal \u201cWo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d howled along the air with\na sound that told of nothing human.\n\nHis unfortunate bride still followed him, never uttering a word, never\nlooking but on him. She glided along with him in his swiftest course, as\nbound by a spell to wander where he wandered, an unconscious slave; her\nform almost a shadow; without a sound, a gesture, or a glance\u2014her feet\nalone moved.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Presentiment of Wo]\n\nI often attempted to render this undone pair some assistance. Sabat\nrecognized me, and returned brief thanks, and perhaps I was the only\nman in Jerusalem to whom he vouchsafed either thanks or memory. But he\nuniformly refused aid of every kind, and reproaching himself for the\nmoment given to human recollections, burst away and again began his\ndenunciation of \u201cWo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d\n\nThe hope of treaty with the besiegers was now nearly desperate; yet\nI felt so deeply the ruin that must follow protracted war that I had\nlabored with incessant anxiety to bring the people to a sense of their\nsituation. My name was high; my decided refusal of all command gave me\nan influence which threw more grasping ambition into the shade; and\nthe leading men of Jerusalem were glad to delegate their power to me,\nwith the double object of relieving themselves from an effort to which\nthey were unequal, and from a responsibility under which even their\ncovetousness had begun to tremble.\n\nBut Jerusalem was not to be saved;[50] there was an opposing fatality\u2014an\nirresistible, intangible power arrayed against all efforts. I felt it\nat my first step. If I had been treading on a volcano and heard it roar\nunder me, I could not have been made more sensible of the hollowness and\nhopelessness of every effort to save the nation. In the midst of our most\naccording council some luckless impediment was sure to start up. While\nwe seemed on the verge of conciliating and securing the most important\ninterests, to that verge we were suddenly forbidden all approach.\nCommunications actually commenced with the Roman general, and which\npromised the most certain results, were broken off, none could tell how.\nThere was an antagonist somewhere, but beyond our grasp; a hostility as\npowerful, as constant, and as little capable of being counteracted as the\nhostility of the plague.\n\nAfter my final conversation with Septimius, I had spent the day in one\nof those perplexing deliberations, and was returning with a weary heart\nwhen, in an obscure street leading into the Upper City, I was roused from\nmy reverie by the sound of one of our mountain songs. Music has been\namong my chief solaces through existence, and the song of Naphtali in\nthat moment of depression keenly moved me. I stopped to listen in front\nof the minstrel\u2019s tent, in which a circle of soldiers and shepherds\nfrom the Galilees were sitting over their cups. His skill deserved a\nhigher audience. He touched his little harp with elegance to a voice that\nreminded me of the sportiveness and wild melody of a bird in spring. The\nmoonlight shone through the tent, and as the boy sat under its large\nwhite folds in the fantastic dress of his art\u2014a loose vermilion robe,\nbelted with sparkling stones, and turban of yellow silk, that drooped\nupon his shoulder like a golden pinion\u2014he resembled the Persian pictures\nof the Peri embosomed in the bell of the lily. The rude and dark-featured\nlisteners round him might well have sat for the swart demons submissive\nto his will.\n\nBut thoughts soon returned that were not to be soothed by music, and\nthrowing some pieces of money to the boy, I hastened on. The departure\nof the young Roman and the influence that it might have on my family,\nand peculiarly on the mind of a creature doubly endeared to me by a\nstrange and melancholy similitude to the temper of my own excitable mind,\ndeeply occupied me, and it was even with some presentiment of evil that I\nreached home.\n\nThe first sound that I heard was the lamentation of the old domestics.\nBut I could not wait to solve their unintelligible attempts to explain\nthe disaster. I flew to my family. Miriam was absorbed in profound\nsorrow; Salome was in loud affliction. Dreading everything that could be\ntold me, yet with that sullen hardihood which long misfortune gives, I\ntook my wife\u2019s hands and in a voice struggling for composure desired her\nto tell me the worst at once.\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cEsther is Gone!\u201d]\n\n\u201cEsther is gone!\u201d was her answer.\n\nShe could articulate no more; the effort to speak this shook her whole\nframe. But Salome broke out into loud reprobation of the baseness of the\nwretch who had turned our hospitality into a snare, and whose life, twice\nsaved, was employed only to bring misery on his preserver.\n\nThe blow fell upon me with the keenness of a sword.\n\n\u201cWas Esther, was my daughter, my innocent, darling Esther, consenting to\nthis flight?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d said Miriam. \u201cI dare not ask myself the question. If she\ncan have forgotten her duty to follow the stranger; if she can have left\nher parents\u2014no. It must have been through some horrid artifice. But the\nthought is too bitter. Raise no more such thoughts in my mind.\u201d\n\nShe sank in silence. But Salome was not to be restrained. She asserted\nthe total impossibility of Esther\u2019s having thrown off her allegiance to\nreligion and filial duty.\n\n\u201cShe must have been,\u201d said this generous and enthusiastic being, \u201ceither\nsubjected to those dreadful arts in which the idolaters deal, or carried\naway by force. Constantius has gone already in search of her; feeble as\nhe is, he determined to discover the robber, and tho his steps were weak\nand the effort may hazard his life, he would not be restrained, nor would\nI restrain him where I should have so much rejoiced to hazard my own.\u201d\n\nI rose to depart. Miriam clung to me.\n\n\u201cMust I lose all, Salathiel?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Goes to the Rescue]\n\n\u201cI am the guilty one, wife! I should have guarded against this. I\nalone am to blame. I will recover Esther. Without her we all should be\nmiserable. The Roman general is just. I will demand her of Septimius\nin his presence. Miriam! you shall see your child. Salome! you shall\nsee your sister. And now, come to my heart\u2014come both; my last hope of\nhappiness, the remnant of all that once promised to fill my declining\ndays with peace and prosperity. Weep no more, Miriam, Salome! I must not\nbe unmanned at this time of trial. Go to your chambers and pray for me.\nFarewell!\u201d\n\nIt was nearly midnight and the city sounds were hushed, except where the\ncrowds, which still poured in, struggled for their quarters. The very\nfear of being thus disturbed kept up the disturbance of the population,\nand in the leading avenues the tents showed fierce watchers against this\nviolence sitting round their tables, until wine either sent them to sleep\nor roused them into daggers-drawing. Subordination was now at an end;\nplunder and blood were to be dreaded by every man who ventured among\nthose champions of freedom and property; and more than once this night I\nwas compelled to show that I wore a weapon.\n\nYet the disorder which left the city a seat of dissolute riot was not\nsuffered to interfere with its actual defense. That singular mixture of\nrabble giddiness and sacred care which distinguished my countrymen above\nall nations was fully displayed in those final hours, and the walls that\nenclosed a million of rioters and robbers were guarded with the solemn\nvigilance of a sanctuary.\n\nNo argument could prevail with the peasantry at the gates to let me pass.\nMy rank, and even my public name, went for little in the scale against\nthe possibility of my renewing the treaty with an enemy whom they now\nscorned, and I was doubting whether I must not lose the night by the\nreluctance of those rough but honest sentinels, when I was cheered by\nseeing one of the head men of their tribe arrive. He had been a furious\npartizan; honor and honesty were his declared worship, and his horror of\nhumbler motives was fierceness itself. This was enough for me. I knew\nwhat public vehemence means. I took him aside, without ceremony put gold\ninto his grasp, and saw the gate thrown open before me by the immaculate\nhand of the patriotic Jonathan.\n\nWhile I had scarcely congratulated myself on having passed this\nformidable barrier and was still within the defenses, the trampling of\nhorse echoed on the road. The night was clear, and there was no hope of\navoiding them. A large body of Idumean horsemen came on, escorting wagons\nof provision. The foremost riders were half asleep, and I was in strong\nhope of eluding them all when one of the drivers, in the wantonness of\nauthority, laid his whip on me. I rashly returned the blow, and the man\nfell off his horse. I was surrounded, charged with murder; was brought\nbefore their chieftain, and found that chieftain Onias!\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Old Enemy]\n\nMy old enemy recognized me instantly, and with undying revenge firing\nevery feature demanded whither I was going.\n\n\u201cTo the Roman camp,\u201d was the direct answer.\n\n\u201cThe purpose?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo have an interview with the Roman general.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou come deputed by the authorities?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy not one of them.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Right of the Stronger]\n\n\u201cI long ago knew you to be a daring fellow, but you exceed my opinion. We\ncan not spare heroes from Jerusalem at this time; you must turn back with\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy what right?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the right of the stronger.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith what object?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat you may be hanged as a deserter. It will save you the trouble of\ngoing to Titus, to be hanged as a spy.\u201d\n\nI disdained reply, and in the midst of a circle of barbarians exulting\nover their capture, as if they had taken the chief enemy of the state,\nwas marched back to the walls.\n\nThere I was not the only person disturbed by the adventure. The first\nglimpse of me caught by Jonathan exhibited everything that could be\nludicrous in the shape of consternation. To the inquiries how I was\nsuffered to pass he answered by an appeal to his \u201chonor,\u201d which he again\nvalued, in my presence too, \u201cas the most invaluable possession of the\ncitizen soldier.\u201d He said the words without a blush, and I even listened\nto them without a smile. He probably trembled a little for his bribe; but\nhe soon discovered by my look that I considered the money as too far gone\nto be worth pursuing.\n\nYet Onias, who seemed to know him as well as I, fixed on him a\nscrutinizing aspect, of all others the most hateful to a delicate\nconscience, and his only resource was to heap opprobrium upon me.\n\n\u201cHow I had contrived to escape the guard,\u201d said Jonathan, \u201cwas totally\ninconceivable, unless it was by\u201d\u2014I gave him an assuring glance\u2014\u201cby\nimposing on the credulity of some of the ignorant peasants; possibly even\nby direct corruption. But to put the matter out of future possibility he\nwould proceed to examine the prisoner\u2019s person.\u201d\n\nHe proceeded accordingly, and from my sash took my purse, as a public\nprecaution. He was a vigilant guardian of the state, for the purse was\nnever restored.\n\nOnias looked at him during his harangue with a countenance between\ncontempt and ridicule.\n\n\u201cI must go forward now,\u201d said he; \u201cbut, captain, see to your prisoner. He\nmust answer before the council to-morrow, and as you have so worthily\ndisabled him from operations with the guard, your own head is answerable\nfor his safe-keeping.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Confined in a Tower]\n\nMy enemy, to make all sure, himself saw me lodged within the tower over\nthe gate, comforted his soul by a parting promise that my time was come,\nand rode off with his Idumeans\u2014to the boundless satisfaction of the\nscrupulous and much-alarmed Jonathan.\n\nThe tower was massive, and there was no probability that anything less\nthan a Roman battering-ram would ever lay open its solid sides. The\ncaptain had recovered his virtue at the instant of my losing my purse,\nand I now could no more dream of sapping his integrity than of sapping\nthe huge blocks of the tower. Whether I was to be prisoner for the night,\nor for the siege, or to glut the ax by morning, were questions which lay\nin the bosom of as implacable a villain as long-delayed revenge ever made\nmalignant; but what was to become of my child, of my family, of my share\nin the great cause, for which alone life was of value?\n\nThe chamber to which I was consigned was at the top of the tower and\noverlooked a vast extent of country. Before me were the Roman camps, seen\nclearly in the moonlight, and wrapt in silence, except when the solitary\ntrumpet sounded the watch, or the heavy tread of a troop going its rounds\nwas heard. The city sounds were but the murmurs of the sinking tide of\nthe multitude. The spring was in her glory. The air came fresh and sweet\nfrom the fields. All was tranquillity; yet what a mass of destructive\npower was lying motionless under that tranquillity! Fire, sword, and man\nwere before me\u2014elements of evil that a touch could rouse into tempest,\nnot to be allayed but by torrents of blood and the ruin of empires.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018Esther is gone!\u2019 was her answer.\u201d\n\n [_see page 420._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LVI\n\n_A Narrow Escape_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Basket of Wine]\n\nWhile my mind was wandering away in thoughts of the madness of ambition\nin so brief a being as man, I heard a loud clamor of voices in the\nchambers below. The rustic guards had been enjoying themselves, but\ntheir wine was already out, and they set their faces boldly against\nthe discipline which pretended to limit the wine of patriots so true\nand thirsty. The clamor arose from the discovery that the cellars of\nthe tower had been examined by a previous guard, who provided for\nthe temperance of their successors by taking the whole temptation to\nthemselves. High words followed between the abettors of discipline and\nthe partizans of the vintage, and if my door were but unbarred I might\nhave expeditiously relieved the captain of his charge. But its bolts were\nenormous, and I tried them in vain. As I was giving up the effort, a\nlight footstep ascended the stairs; a key turned in the ponderous wards,\nand the minstrel of the tent stood before me.\n\n\u201cIf you wish to escape from certain death,\u201d he whispered, \u201cdo as I bid\nyou.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Minstrel\u2019s Aid]\n\nHe looked from the casement, sang a few notes, and on being answered\nfrom without pulled up a rope, which we hauled in together. The task\nwas of some difficulty, but at length a weighty basket appeared, loaded\nwith wine. He took a portion of the contraband freight in his hands and\nwithout a word disappeared. I heard his welcome proclaimed below with\nloud applause. Half the guard were instantly on the stairs to assist\nhim down with the remainder, but against this he firmly protested, and\nthreatened in case of a single attempt to interfere with his operations\nthat he would awake the captain and publicly give back this incomparable\nprivate store to the legitimate hand. The threat was effective; the\nunlading of the basket was left to his own dexterity, and at length but\none solitary flask lay before us.\n\n\u201cYou deserve some payment for your trouble,\u201d said he, with the careless\nand jovial air of his brethren. \u201cHere\u2019s to your night\u2019s enterprise,\nwhatever it be,\u201d pouring out a few drops and tasting them, while he gave\na large draft to my feverish lips. \u201cAnd now, good-night, my prince,\nunless you love the tower too much to take leave of this gallant guard by\na window.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, boy, if you should be detected in assisting my escape?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fear of that,\u201d said he. \u201cI have been detected in all sorts\nof frolics in my time, and yet here I am. The truth is, my prince, I\nhave traveled in your country and have an old honor for your name. No\nlater than to-day you gave me the handsomest present I have got since\nI came within the walls. I know the noble captain of the guard to be a\nthorough knave, and the mighty Onias to want nothing for wickedness but\nthe opportunity. In short, the thought occurred to me, on seeing you, to\nhelp the honest revelers below to a little more wine than was good for\ntheir understandings, the contraband being a commodity in which, between\nourselves, I deal; and further to break the laws by assisting you to\nleave captain, sentinels, and all behind.\u201d\n\nI asked what was to be done.\n\n\u201cIf you value your life, be the substitute for the empty flasks and make\nyour way through the air like a bird. I shall be safe enough. You need\nhave no fears for me.\u201d\n\nI coiled the rope round a beam, forced myself through the narrow\ncasement, and launched out into air at a height of a hundred feet. If\nI felt any distrust, it was brief. I was rapidly lowered, passing the\nvarious casements, in which I saw the successive watches of the guard\ndrinking, sleeping, singing, and discussing public affairs with village\nrationality. Luckily no eye turned upon the fugitive, and the ground was\ntouched at last.\n\nIn another moment the minstrel came, rather flying than sliding, down\nthe rope. I said something in acknowledgment of this service, but he laid\nhis finger on his lip, and pointing to a rampart, where a moving torch\nshowed me that we were still within observation, led on through paths\nbeset with thickets that no eye could penetrate, but, as he laughingly\nsaid, \u201cthat of a supplier of garrisons with contraband.\u201d But their\nintricacy offered no obstruction to this stripling; and after amusing\nhimself with my perplexities he led me to the verge of the plain.\n\n\u201cI have detained you,\u201d said he, \u201cin these brambles for the double purpose\nof avoiding the lookout from the battlements and of giving the moon time\nto hide her blushing beauties.\u201d\n\nShe lay reddening with the mists on the horizon.\n\n\u201cShe has been often called our mother, and as her children the minstrels\nare allowed the privilege of keeping later hours and being madder than\nthe mob of mankind. But like other children we are sometimes engaged in\nmatters which would dispense with the maternal eye, and to-night I wished\nthat she was many a fathom below the ocean. Mother,\u201d said he, throwing\nhimself into an attitude, \u201ctake a child\u2019s blessing and begone.\u201d\n\nThe words were spoken to a touch on his little harp\u2014rambling, but\nsingularly sweet.\n\n\u201cDo you know,\u201d said he with a sigh, as he turned and saw me gazing in\nadmiration of his skill, \u201cI am weary to death of my profession.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why not leave it? You are fit for better things. Your skill is of\nthe very nature that makes its way in the world.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Freedom of Singing]\n\n\u201cWhy not leave it? For a hundred reasons. In the first place, I should\nbe more wearied of every other. I should be the bird in the cage, fed,\nsheltered, and possibly a favorite. But what bird would not rather take\nthe chance of the open air, even to be scorched by the summer and frozen\nby the winter? No; let me clap my pinions and sing my song under the free\ncanopy of the skies, or be voiceless, and wingless, and\u2014dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cBoy, this is the natural language of your years. But the time must come\nwhen the spirit sinks and man requires other charms in life than the\npower of roaming.\u201d\n\nHe hung his head over the harp and let his fingers stray among the\nstrings. The moon was now touching the mountains.\n\n\u201cWe must begone,\u201d said I. \u201cI owe you something for your night\u2019s service,\nwhich shall be repaid by taking you into my household should the siege be\nraised; if not, you are but as you were.\u201d\n\nHe was all nervous excitement at the offer\u2014wept, laughed, danced, played\na prelude upon the strings, kissed my hand, and finally bounded away\nbefore me. I called to him, repeating my wish that he should go no\nfarther.\n\n[Sidenote: The Minstrel Guide]\n\n\u201cImpossible,\u201d said he; \u201cyou would be lost in a moment. If I had not\ncrossed the ground hundreds of times, I should never be able to find my\nroad. Half a mile forward it is all rampart, trench, and ravine. You\nwould be stopped by a myriad of sentinels. Nothing on earth could get to\nthe foot of yonder hills, but an army\u2014or a minstrel.\u201d\n\nHe ran on before me, and ran with a rapidity that tasked even my foot\nto follow. We soon came into the fortified ground, and I then felt\nhis value. He led me over fosse and rampart, up the scarp and through\nthe palisade, with the sagacity of instinct. But this was not all. I\nrepeatedly saw the sentinels within a few feet of us, and expected to\nbe challenged every moment, but not a syllable was heard. I passed with\npatrols of the legionary horse on either side of me; still not a word. I\nwalked through the rows of tents, in which the troops were preparing for\nthe duties of the morning. Not an eye fell upon me, and I almost began to\nbelieve myself, like a hero of the heathen fables, covered with a cloud.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s New Captors]\n\nThe boy still continued racing along, until, on reaching the summit of a\nmound at some distance in front of me, he uttered a cry and fell. I had\nheard no challenge, and hurried toward him. A flight of arrows whizzed\nover my head, and the black visages of a mob of Ethiopian riders[51] came\nbounding up a hollow between us. It was not my purpose to fight, even if\nI had any hope of success against marksmen who could hit an elephant\u2019s\neye. I surrendered in every language of which I was capable. But the\nEthiopians only shook their woolly heads, laid hands on me, and began an\ninvestigation of my riches creditable to polished society. Barbarians,\nwith a tongue and physiognomy worthy only of their kindred baboons,\nprobed every plait of my garments, with an accuracy that could have been\nsurpassed only in the most civilized custom-houses of the empire. A\nsuccession of shrieks, which I mistook for rage, but which were the mirth\nof those sons of darkness, were the prelude to measures which augured\nmore formidable consequences. A rope was thrown over my arms, and I was\nled toward the outposts.\n\nYet even the neighborhood of their Roman friends did not seem the most\ncongenial to my captors. More than one consultation was held, in which\ntheir white teeth were bared to the jaw with rage, and their simitars\nwere whirled like so many flashes of lightning about each other\u2019s\nturbans, before they could decide whether my throat was to be cut on the\nspot, to get rid of an incumbrance, or whether they were to try how far\nthe emptiness of my purse might not be made up by the reward for the\ncapture of a spy in the trappings of a chieftain.\n\nI gave up remonstrance where, if I had all the tongues of Babel, none\nof them seemed likely to answer my purpose, and reserving the nice\ndistinction between an ambassador and a spy for more cultivated ears,\nquietly walked onward in the midst of this troop of thieves; the more\ninsensible to honesty or argument, as they were privileged according to\nlaw. But our approach to the camp bred another difficulty. The troop felt\nan obvious disinclination to come too close to the legionaries. Untutored\nas the negroes were, they had acquired a knowledge of the official\nconscience, and they bowed to the mastery of the white in plunder as\namong the accomplishments of an advanced age!\n\nAll could not venture to the camp; yet who was to be entrusted with\nreceiving the reward? The discussion was carried on chiefly by gesture,\nwhich sometimes proceeded to blows, and at last was wound up to such\nvigor that a brawny ruffian, to preserve the peace, seized the rope and,\ndragging me out the circle, began sharpening his simitar, to extinguish\nthe controversy. But at the instant a horrid outcry arose, and a figure,\nhideous beyond conception, not a foot high, blacker than the blackest,\nand darting flames from its mouth, bounded in among us, mounted upon a\nwild beast of a horse that kicked and tore at everything. The Ethiopians\nshrieked with terror and scattered on all sides at the first shock, but\nthe ground was so cut up by the military operations that they stumbled\nat every step. Some were unhorsed; some probably had their necks broken,\nand others carried home the tale, to spread it through the land of lions.\nI heard it long after, exciting the utmost amaze in a venerable circle\nround one of the fountains of the Nile.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Appeal]\n\nI was now saved from being thus summarily made the victim of peace, but\nwas as far as ever from freedom. While I was endeavoring to loose the\nrope, a patrol of the legionary horse came galloping from the camp, and\nI was seized with this badge of a bad character upon me. But the flying\nnegroes were the more amusing objects. There was just light enough to\nsee them rolling about the plain; turbans flying off in the air; and the\nfew riders who could boast of keeping their seats, whirled away over\nbrake and brier, at the mercy of their frightened horses. This display,\nwhich had been at first taken for the prelude to an assault on the lines,\nwas now a source of pleasantry, and the horsemanship of the savages was\nhonored with many a roar.\n\nMy case came next under consideration. \u201cI was found at the edge of the\nRoman entrenchments, where to be found was to die; I was besides taken\nwith the mark of reprobation upon me.\u201d\n\nI pleaded my own merits loudly, and appealed to the rope as evidence that\nI was not there by my own will. The legionaries were better soldiers\nthan logicians, and my defense perplexed them until some one thought\nof inquiring what brought me there at all. The troop flocked round to\nhear my answer to this overwhelming question. I told my purpose in a few\nwords.\n\n[Sidenote: On the Point of Death]\n\nThe scale again turned in my favor, and I began to think victory secure,\nwhen a young standard-bearer, who was probably destined to rise in the\nstate, declared, with a splenetic tongue and brow of office, that \u201cin\nthis land of cheating too much precaution could not be adopted against\ncheats of all colors; that the more plausible my story was, the more\nlikely it was to be a falsehood; and finally, that as my escape might do\nsome kind of mischief, while my hanging could do none whatever, it was\nadvisable to hang me without delay.\u201d\n\nThe orator spoke the words of popularity, and my fate was sealed.\nBut a new difficulty arose. By whom was the sentence to be put in\nexecution?\u2014for the duty would have sullied the legionary honor for life.\nA trampled African, who lay groaning in a ditch beside me, caught the\nsound of the debate, dragged himself out, and offered, mangled as he\nwas, to perform the office for any sum that their generosity might think\nproper to give. Never was man nearer to paying the grand debt than I was\nat that moment. The African recovered his vigor as by magic, and the\nyoung statesman took upon himself the superintendence of this service\nto his country. I raised my voice loudly against this violence to a\n\u201cnegotiator\u201d; but the troopers of the imperial horse had been roused from\ntheir sleep on my account, and they were not to return, liable to the\nridicule of having been roused by a false alarm. I still endeavored to\nput off the evil hour, when the trampling of a large body of cavalry was\nheard.\n\n\u201cThe general!\u201d exclaimed the young officer, who evidently had an\ninstinctive sensibility to the approach of rank.\n\n\u201cLet Titus come,\u201d said I, \u201cor any man of honor, and _he_ will understand\nme.\u201d\n\nI tore the badge of disgrace from my arms and stepped forward to meet\nthe great son of Vespasian. My confidence alarmed the troop, and the\nstandard-bearer made way for the man who dared to speak to the heir of\nthe throne. But the general was not Titus; a broad, brutal countenance,\nred with excess, glared haughtily round. I recognized Cestius. A whisper\nfrom one of the officers put him in possession of the circumstances, and\nhe rode up to me.\n\n\u201cSo, rebel! you are come to this at last! You have been taken in the fact\nand must undergo your natural fate.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Defies Cestius]\n\n\u201cI demand to be led to your general. I scorn to defend myself before\ninferiors.\u201d\n\n\u201cInferiors!\u201d He bit his livid lip. \u201cTraitor, you are not now on the hill\nof Scopas at the head of an army.\u201d\n\n\u201cNor you,\u201d said I, \u201con the plain at the head of an army\u2014and so much the\nmore fortunate for both you and them. But I scorn to talk to men whose\nbacks I have seen. Lead me to your master, fugitive!\u201d\n\nThe troops, unaccustomed to this plain speaking, looked on with wonder.\nCestius himself was staggered, but the nature of the man soon returned,\nand in a voice of fury he ordered a body of Arab archers, who were seen\nmoving at a distance, to be brought up for the extinction of a \u201ctraitor\nunworthy of a Roman sword.\u201d The Arabs, exhilarated by the prospect of\nemployment, came up, shouting, tossing their lances, and shooting their\narrows. As a last resource, I solemnly protested against this murder,\nwhich I pronounced to be the work of a revenge disgraceful to the name\nof soldier; and taunting Cestius with his defeat, demanded that, if he\ndoubted my honor, he should try on the spot \u201cwhich of our swords was the\nbetter.\u201d\n\nHe answered only by a glare of rage and a gesture to the archers,\nwho instantly threw themselves into a half circle round me, with the\nexpertness of proficients in the trade of justice, and bended their bows.\nDetermined to resist to the last, I flung out upbraidings and scorn upon\nthe murderer, which drove him to hide his head behind the troops. Another\ndisturbance arose. Simitars waved, turbans shook, horses plunged; the\ndeep order was broken, and at length a horseman, magnificently appareled\nand mounted, burst into the ring and looked fiercely round.\n\n\u201cWhat, you miscreants,\u201d he shouted, \u201cwho dares to take command out of\nmy hands? Down with your bows! Commit murder and I not present! The\nfirst man that pulls a string shall leave an empty saddle. Draw off,\ncutthroats, or if you want to do the world a service, shoot one another.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Meeting With the Captain]\n\nI seemed to remember the voice, but I gazed in vain on the splendid\nfigure. The turban that, blazing with gems, hung down on his forehead,\nand the beard that, black as the raven\u2019s wing, curled full round his lip,\ncompletely baffled me. He looked at me in turn, thrust out a sinewy hand,\nand, clasping mine, exclaimed with a laugh:\n\n\u201cPrince, does the plumage make you forget the bird? What can have brought\nyou into the hands of my culprits? I thought that you were drowned,\nburned, or a candidate for the imperial diadem by this time.\u201d\n\nI now knew him.\n\n\u201cMy friend of the free-trade!\u201d said I in a low tone.\n\nHe spoke in a fearless tone. \u201cBy no means. I have reformed\u2014am a changed\nman\u2014captain of the seas no more; but a loyal plunderer\u2014in the service of\nVespasian, and in command of a thousand Arab cavalry that will ride, run\naway, and rob with any corps in the service; and the word is a bold one.\u201d\n\nOur brief conference was broken up by the return of Cestius, who,\noutrageous at the delay and coming to inquire the cause, found fresh fuel\nfor his wrath in the sight of the Arab captain turned into my protector.\nWith an execration he demanded \u201cwhy his orders had been disobeyed.\u201d\n\nThe captain answered, with the most provoking coolness, that \u201cno Roman\nofficer, let his rank be what it might, was entitled to degrade the\nallies into executioners.\u201d\n\nThe Roman grew furious with the slight in the face of the troops, who\nhighly enjoyed it. The Arab grew more sarcastic, till Cestius was rash\nenough to lift his hand, and the Arab anticipated the blow, by dashing\nhis charger at him and leaving the general and his horse struggling\ntogether on the ground. An insult of this kind to the second in command\nwas, of course, not to be forgiven. The Arabs bent their bows to make\nbattle for their captain, but he forbade resistance; and when the\nlegionary tribune demanded his sword, he surrendered it with a smile,\nsaying that \u201che had done service enough for one day in saving an honest\nman and punishing a ruffian,\u201d and that he should justify himself to Titus\nalone.\n\n[Sidenote: The Approach of the Enemy]\n\nMy fate was still undetermined. But the legionaries soon had more\npressing matters to think of. The clangor of horns and shouts came in\nthe direction of the city. The plain still lay in shade, but I could see\nthrough the dusk immense crowds moving forward like an inundation. The\nlegions were instantly under arms, and I stood a chance of being walked\nover by two armies!\n\nBut I was not to encounter so distinguished a catastrophe. Some symptoms\nof my inclination to escape attracted the eye of the guard, and I was\nmarched to the common repository of malefactors in the rear of the lines.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LVII\n\n_Onias, the Enemy of Salathiel_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Within Sound of Battle]\n\nMy new quarters were within the walls of one of those huge country\nmansions which the pride of our ancestors had built to be the plague of\ntheir posterity; for those the enemy chiefly employed for our prisons.\nTheir solid strength defied desultory attack; time made little other\nimpression on them than to picture their walls with innumerable stains;\nand the man must be a practised prison-breaker who could force his way\nout of their depths of marble. But if my eyes were useless, my ears had\ntheir full indulgence. Every sound of the conflict was heard. The attack\nwas furious, and must have often been close to the walls of my dungeon.\nThe various rallying-cries of the tribes rang through its halls; then\na Roman shout, and the heavy charge of the cavalry would roll along\nuntil, after an encountering roar and a long clashing of weapons, the\ntumult passed away, to be rapidly renewed by the obstinate bravery of my\nunfortunate countrymen.\n\nI felt as a man and a leader must feel during scenes in which he ought\nto take a part, yet to which he is virtually as dead as the sleeper in\nthe tomb. My life had been activity; my heart was in the cause; I had\nknowledge, zeal, and strength that might in the chances of battle turn\nthe scale. I even often heard my name among the charging cries of the\nday. But here I lay within impassable barriers. A thousand times during\nthose miserable hours I measured their height with my eye; then threw\nmyself on the ground, and placing my hands over my ears, labored to\nexclude thought from my soul.\n\n[Sidenote: The Sons of Chance]\n\nBut my fellow prisoners were practical philosophers to a man; untaught in\nthe schools, \u2019tis true, yet fully trained in that great academy worth\nall that Philosophy ever dreamed in\u2014experience. In all my wanderings\namong mankind I never before had so ample an opportunity of studying\nvariety of character. War is the hotbed that urges all our qualities,\ngood and evil, into their broadest luxuriance. The generous become\nmunificent; the mean darken into the villainous; and the rude harden into\nbrutality. The camp is the great inn at which all the dubious qualities\nset up their rest, and a single campaign perfects the culprit to the\nheight of his profession. There were round me in these immense halls\nabout five hundred profligates, any one of whose histories would have\nbeen invaluable to a scorner of human nature.\n\nAmong the loose armies of the East those fellows exercised their vocation\nas regular appendages; often lived in luxury, and sometimes shot up\ninto leaders themselves. But robbery in the Roman armies required\nmaster-hands. The temptation was strong, for the legionary was the grand\nravager, and like the lion, he left the larger share of the prey to the\njackal. Yet justice, inexorable and rapid, was his rule\u2014in all cases but\nhis own; and the jackal, suspected of trespassing within the legitimate\ndistance from the superior savage, ran imminent hazard of being\ndisqualified for all encroachment to come. Three-fourths of my associates\nhad played this perilous game, and its penalties were now awaiting only\nthe first leisure of the troops. Peace, at all times vexatious to their\ntrade, had thus a double disgust for them, and the most patriotic son of\nIsrael could not have taken a more zealous interest in the defeat of the\nlegions.\n\n[Sidenote: A Victim of Ingratitude]\n\nBut philosophy still predominated; if hope was at an end, hilarity took\nits place, and the prison rang with reckless exhibitions of practical\nglee, riotous songs, and mockeries. In the idleness of the lingering\nhours the professional talents of those sons of chance were brought into\nplay. The mimic collected his audience, burlesqued the pompous officials\nof the army, and gathered his pence and plaudits as if he were under\nthe open sky and could call his head his own. The nostrum-vender had\nhis secrets for the cure of every ill, and harangued on the impotence\nof brand, scourge, and blade, if the patient had but the wisdom to\nemploy his irresistible unguent. The soothsayer sold fate at the lowest\nprice, and fixed the casualties of the next four-and-twenty hours\u2014an\neasy task with the principal part of his audience. The minstrel chanted\nthe pleasures of a life unencumbered by care or conscience; and the\npilferer, with but an hour to live, exercised his trade with an industry\nproportioned to the shortness of his time.\n\nIn the whole gang I met with but one man thoroughly out of spirits. He\nhad obviously been no favorite of fortune, for the human form could\nscarcely be less indebted to clothing. His swarthy visage was doubly\nblackened by hunger and exhaustion, and even his voice had a prison\nsound. Driven away from the joyous groups by the natural repulsion which\nthe careless feel at visages that remind them of trouble, he took refuge\nin the corner where I lay, tormented by every echo of the battle. Not\nunwilling to forget the melancholy scenes in which every moment was\ndraining the last blood of my country, I turned to the wretch beside me\nand asked the cause of his sorrows.\n\n\u201cIngratitude,\u201d was the reply. \u201cThis is a villainous world; a man may\nspend his life in serving others, and what will he gain in the end?\nNothing. There is, for instance, the prince of Damascus wallowing in\nwealth; yet the greatest rogue under this roof has not a more pitiful\nstock of honor. Witness his conduct to me. He was out of favor with his\nuncle, the late prince; was not worth more than the raiment on his limbs,\nand as likely to finish his days on the gibbet as any of the knot of\nrobbers that helped him to scour the roads about Sidon. In his distress\nhe applied to me. I had driven a handsome share of the free-trade between\nEgypt and the north, and now and then gave him a handsome price for his\nbooty. The idea of bringing his uncle to terms was out of the question. I\nnamed my price; it was allowed to be fair. I made my way into the palace,\nwas exalted to the honors of cupbearer, and on my first night of office\ngave the old man a cup which cured him of drunkenness forever. And what\ndo you think was my reward?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Interest Roused]\n\n\u201cI could name what it ought to have been.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou conclude half the old man\u2019s jewels at the least. No; not a stone\u2014not\na shekel. I was thrown into chains, and finally kicked out of the city,\nwith a promise, the only one that he will ever keep, that if I venture\nthere again I shall leave it without my head! There\u2019s gratitude! There\u2019s\nhonor for you!\n\n\u201cMy next example,\u201d he continued, \u201cwas among the Romans. It must be owned\nthat they pay well for secret services. But then, ingratitude infects\nthem from top to toe. I had been three years in their employment, and\nif I made free with a few of their secrets in favor of others, it was\nonly on the commercial principle of having as many customers as one can\nsupply; still, I helped them to the knowledge of all that was going on.\u201d\n\nHe had found a listener, and indulged his recollection; after a variety\nof events, in which he cheated everybody, he came to one that had some\ninterest for myself.\n\n\u201cAt last a showy adventurer changed the scene,\u201d he continued. \u201cSome\ninsult had stirred up his blood, and in revenge he sailed away with\nthe prefect\u2019s galley and set up on his own account. Not a sail, from a\nshallop to a trireme, could touch the water from the Cyclades to Cyprus\nwithout being overhauled by the captain. I was set by the prefect upon\nhis track, and got into his good graces by lending him a little of my\ninformation, of which he made such desperate use that the Roman swore my\ndestruction as a traitor. To make up the quarrel I tried a wider game,\nand was bringing his fleet upon the pirates in their very nest when ill\nluck came across me. A pair whom to the last hour of my life nothing\nwill persuade me to think anything but demons, sent expressly to do me\nmischief, spoiled one of the finest inventions that ever came into the\nhead of man.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Becomes a Foil]\n\n\u201cThe consequence was that the pirates, instead of being attacked, burned\nthe Roman\u2019s trireme round him, and would have burned himself, if he had\nnot thought a watery end better than a fiery one, leaped overboard, and\ngone straight to the bottom. The whole blame fell upon me, and my only\npayment was the cropping of my ears and a declaration, sworn to in the\nnames of Romulus and Remus, that if I ever ventured again within a Roman\ncamp I should not get off so well. Ingratitude again! Never was a man so\nunfortunate.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite the contrary. It appears to me that seldom was man so lucky. If\none in a hundred would have your tale to tell, not one in a thousand\nwould have lived to tell it.\u201d I had already recognized the Egyptian of\nthe cavern.\n\n\u201cBut justice, honor!\u201d\n\n\u201cSay no more about them. Whatever the Romans may be in the matter of\njustice, your case is an answer to all charges on their mercy.\u201d\n\nHe looked at me with a ghastly grimace, and as he threw back the long and\nsqualid locks that covered his countenance, showed what beggary had done\nto the sleek features of the once superbly clothed and jeweled sea-rover.\n\n\u201cBut what,\u201d said I, \u201cthrew a man of your virtue among such a gang of\ncaitiffs as are here?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnother instance of ingratitude. I had been for twenty years connected\nwith one of the leading men of Jerusalem, and I will say that in my\nexperience of mankind I have known no individual less perplexed with\nweakness of conscience. He had a difficult game to play between the\nRomans, whom he served privately, the Jews, whom he served publicly,\nand himself, whom he served with at least as much zeal as either of his\nemployers. The times were made for the success of a man who has his eyes\nopen and suffers neither the fear of anything on earth nor the hope of\nanything after it to shut them. He succeeded accordingly; got rid of some\nrivals by the dagger; sent others to the dungeon; bribed where money\nwould answer his purpose; threatened where threats would be current coin;\nand by the practise of those natural means of rising in public affairs,\nbecame the hope of a faction. But on his glory there was one cloud\u2014the\nprince of Naphtali!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Onias and His Rival]\n\nI listened attentively. I had deeply known the early hostility of\nOnias, but his devices were too tortuous for me to trace, and until the\npast night I had lost sight of him for years. I asked what cause of\nbitterness existed between those personages.\n\n\u201cA hundred, as generally happens where the imagination becomes a party\nand the accuser is the judge. The prince in his youth and before he\nattained his rank had the insolence to fall in love with the woman marked\nby Onias for his own. He had the additional insolence to win her; and\nthe completion of his crimes was marriage. Onias thenceforth swore his\nruin. Public convulsions put off the promise, and while he was driven\nto his last struggle to keep himself among the living, he had the angry\nindulgence of seeing the young husband shoot up without any trouble into\nrank, wealth, and renown.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut has not time blunted his hostility?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cTime, as the proverb goes, blunts nothing but a man\u2019s wit, his teeth,\nand his good intentions,\u201d said the knave, with a sneer on his grim\nvisage. \u201cThe next half of the proverb is that it sharpens wine, women,\nand wickedness. What Onias may have been doing of late I can only guess;\nbut unless he is changed by miracle, he has been dealing in every\nvillainous contrivance from subornation to sorcery. I had my own affairs\nto mind. But unless Satan owes him a grudge, he is now not far from his\nrevenge.\u201d\n\nI thought of our meeting at the city gates, and alarmed at the chance of\nhis discovering my family, anxiously asked whether Onias had obtained any\nlate knowledge of his rival.\n\n[Sidenote: A Confessor\u2019s Fear]\n\n\u201cOf that I know but little,\u201d said he; \u201cyet quick as his revenge may be,\nunless my honest employer manages with more temper than usual, he will\nrue the hour when he set foot on the track of the prince of Naphtali. If\never man possessed the mastery of the spirits that our wizards pretend to\nraise, the prince is that man. I myself have hunted him for years, yet\nhe always baffled me. I have laid traps for him that nothing in human\ncunning could have escaped, yet he broke through them as if they were\nspider\u2019s webs. I saw him sent to the thirstiest lover of blood that ever\nsat on a throne. Yet he came back, aye, from the very clutch of Nero. I\nmaddened his friends against him, and he contrived to escape even from\nthe malice of his friends, a matter which you will own is among the most\nmemorable. I had him plunged into a dungeon, where I kept him alive\nfor certain reasons, while Onias was to be kept to his bargain by the\nprisoner\u2019s reappearance. Yet he escaped, and my last intelligence of him\nis that he is at this moment living in pomp in Jerusalem, the spot where\nI have been for the last month in close pursuit of him. Time or some\nmarvelous power must have disguised him. And yet if I were to meet him\nthis night\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cLook on me, slave!\u201d I exclaimed, and grasping him by the throat\nunsheathed my dagger. \u201cYou have found him, and to your cost. Villain! it\nis to you then that I owe so much misery. Make your peace with Heaven if\nyou can, for it would be a crime to suffer you to leave this spot alive.\u201d\n\nHe was dumb with terror. I held him with an iron grasp. The thought that\nif he escaped me, it must be only to let loose a murderer against my\nhouse, made me feel his death an act of justice.\n\n\u201cLet me go,\u201d he at last muttered; \u201clet me live; I am not fit to die. In\nthe name of that Lord whom you worship, spare me!\u201d He fell at my feet\nin desperate supplication. \u201cYou have not heard all; I have abjured your\nenemy. Spare me and I will swear to pass my days in the desert, never to\ncome again before the face of man; to lie upon the rock, to live upon the\nweed, to drink of the pool until I sink into the grave!\u201d\n\nI paused in disgust at the abject eagerness for life in a wretch\nself-condemned! While I held the dagger before him, his senses continued\nbound up by fear. He gazed on it with an eye that quivered with every\nquivering of the steel. With one hand he grasped my uplifted arm as he\nknelt, and with the other gathered his rags round his throat to cover\nit from the blow. His voice was lost in horrid gaspings; his mouth was\nwide open and livid. I sheathed the weapon, and his countenance instantly\nreturned into its old grimace. A ghastly smile grew upon it as he now\ndrew from his bosom a small packet.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Hold upon Onias]\n\n\u201cIf you had put me to death,\u201d said the wretch, \u201cyou would have lost\nyour best friend. This packet contains a correspondence for which Onias\nwould give all that he is worth in the world; and well he might, for\nthe man who has it in his hands has his life. The world is made up of\ningratitude. After all my services\u2014slandering here, plundering there,\nhunting down his opponents in every direction, till they either put\nthemselves out of the world or he saved them the trouble\u2014he had the\nbaseness to throw me off. At the head of his troops he kicked me from his\nhorse\u2019s side, ordering me to be turned loose, \u2018to carry my treachery to\nthe Romans, if they should be fools enough to think me worth the hire.\u2019\nI took him at his word. I was watching my opportunity to enter Jerusalem\nand stab him to the heart when I was taken by some of the plunderers that\nhover round the camp, and am now probably to suffer for the benefit of\nRoman morality, as a robber and assassin, as soon as the legions shall\nhave murdered every man and robbed every mansion in Jerusalem.\u201d\n\nThe packet contained a correspondence of Onias with the Romans. A\nsensation of triumph glowed through me\u2014I held the fate of my implacable\nenemy in my hand. I could now, with a word, strike to the earth the\nbeing whose artifices and cruelties had waylaid me through life, and\nthe traitor to my country would perish by the same blow that avenged\nmy own wrongs. My nature was made for passion. In love and hatred, in\nambition, in revenge, my original spirit knew no bounds. Time, sorrow,\nand the conviction of my own outcast state had partially softened those\nhazardous impulses, and I found the value of adversity. Misfortune comes\nwith healing on its wings to the burning temper of the heart, as the\ntempest comes to the arid soil; it tears up the surface, but softens it\nfor the seeds of the nobler virtues; even in its feeblest work, it cools\nthe withering and devouring heat for a time. I had yet to find with what\nfatal rapidity the heart gives way to its old overwhelming temptations.\n\n[Sidenote: The Power of Gold]\n\n\u201cI spare your life,\u201d said I, \u201cbut on one condition\u2014that you henceforth\nmake Onias the constant object of your vigilance; that you keep him from\nall injury to me and mine; and that when I shall seize him at last, you\nshall be forthcoming to give public proof of his treachery.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis sounds well,\u201d said the Egyptian as he cast his eyes round the lofty\nhall, \u201cbut it would sound better if we were not on this side of the gate.\nAll the talking in the world will not sink these walls an inch, nor make\nthat gate turn on its hinges, tho for that, and for every other too,\nthere is one master-key. Happy was the time\u201d\u2014and the fellow\u2019s sullen\neye lighted up with the joy of knavery\u2014\u201cwhen I could walk through every\ncabinet, chamber, and cell from the Emperor\u2019s palace in Rome down to the\nEmperor\u2019s dungeon in C\u00e6sarea.\u201d\n\nI produced a few coins which I had been enabled to conceal, and flung\nthem into his hand. The sum rekindled life in him; avarice has its\nenthusiasts as well as superstition. He forgot danger, prison, and even\nmy dagger at the sight of his idol. He turned the coins to the light in\nall possible ways; he tried them with his teeth; he tasted, he kissed, he\npressed them to his bosom. Never was lover more rapturous than this last\nof human beings at the touch of money in the midst of wretchedness and\nruin. His transports taught me a lesson, and in that prison and from that\nslave of vice I learned long to tremble at the power of gold over the\nhuman mind.\n\nIt was past midnight and the noise of the criminals round me had already\nsunk away. The floor was strewn with sleepers, and the only waking\nfigure was the sentinel as he trod wearily along the passages, when\nthe Egyptian, desiring me to feign sleep that his further operations\nmight not be embarrassed, drew himself along the ground toward him. The\nsoldier, a huge Dacian, covered with beard and iron, and going his rounds\nwith the insensibility of a machine, all but trod upon the Egyptian, who\nlay crouching and writhing before him. I saw the spear lifted up and\nheard a growl that made me think my envoy\u2019s career at an end in this\nworld. He still lay on the ground, writhing under the sentinel\u2019s foot, as\na serpent might under the paw of a lion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Sentinel Bribed]\n\nI was about to spring up and interpose, but his time was not yet come.\nThe spear hung in air, gradually turned its point upward, and finally\nresumed its seat of peace on the Dacian\u2019s shoulder. That art of\npersuasion which speaks to the palm and whose language is of all nations\nhad touched the son of Thrace; I heard the sound of the coin on the\nmarble; a few words arranged the details. The sentinel discovered that\nhis vigilance was required in another direction, broke off his customary\nround, and walked away. The Egyptian turned to me with a triumphant smile\non his hideous visage, the gate rolled on its hinge, and he slipped out\nlike a shadow.\n\nAt the instant my mind misgave me. I had put the fate of my family into\nthe hands of a slave, destitute of even the pretense of principle. In\nmy eagerness to save, might I not have been delivering them up to their\nenemy? He had sold Onias to me; might he not make his peace by selling\nme to Onias? The gate was still open. A few steps would put me beyond\nbondage. Yet I had come to claim Esther. If I left the camp, what hope\nwas there of my ever seeing this child of my heart again? Would not every\nhour of my life be embittered by the chance that she might be suffering\nthe miseries of a dungeon, or borne away into a strange land, or dying\nand calling on her father for help in vain?\n\nThose contending impulses passed through my mind with the speed and\nalmost with the agony of an arrow. The more I thought of the Egyptian,\nthe more I took his treachery for certain. But the present ruin of all\npredominated over the possible sufferings of one, and with a heart\nthrobbing almost to suffocation and a step scarcely able to move I\ndragged myself toward the portal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LVIII\n\n_Eleazar the Convert_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The War of Extermination]\n\nI was not to escape! As I reached the gate a loud sound of trampling feet\nand many voices drove me back. By that curious texture of the feelings\nwhich prefers suffering to suspense I was almost glad to have the\nquestion decided for me by fortune, and flung myself on the ground among\na heap of the undone, who lay enjoying a slumber that might be envied\nby thrones. The gate was thrown open and in another moment in burst a\nliving mass of horror, a multitude of beings in whom the human face and\nform were almost obliterated; shapes gaunt with famine, black with dust,\nwithered with deadly fatigue, and covered with gashes and gore.\n\nThe war had gone on from cruelty to cruelty. To the Roman the Jew was a\nrebel, and he had a rebel\u2019s treatment; to the Jew the Roman was a tyrant,\nand dearly was the price of his tyranny exacted. Quarter was seldom\ngiven on either side. The natural generosity of the son of Vespasian had\nattempted for a while to soften this furious system. But the slaughter of\nthe mission exasperated him; he declared the Jews a people incapable of\nfaith, and proclaimed a war of extermination. The battle of the day had\nfurnished the first opportunity of sweeping vengeance.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel among the Wounded]\n\nThe people, stimulated by the arrival of Onias, had made a desperate\neffort to force the Roman lines. The attacks were reiterated with more\nthan valor\u2014with rage and madness; the Jews fought with a disregard of\nlife that appalled and had nearly overwhelmed even the Roman steadiness.\nThe loss of the legions was formidable; all their chief officers were\nwounded, many were killed. Titus himself, leading a column from the\nDecuman gate of the camp, was wounded by a blow from a sling; and the\nstate of its ramparts, as I saw them at daybreak, torn down in immense\nbreaches, and filling up the ditch with their ruins, showed the imminent\nhazard of the whole army. Another hour of daylight would probably have\nbeen its ruin. But Judea would not have been the more secure, for the\nfactions, relieved from the presence of an enemy, would have torn each\nother to pieces.\n\nThe loss of the Jews was so prodigious[52] as to be accounted for only\nby their eagerness to throw away life. Not less than a hundred thousand\ncorpses lay between the camp and Jerusalem. No prisoners were taken\non either side, and the crowds that now approached were the wounded,\ngathered off the field, to be crucified in memory of the mission. The\ncoming of those victims put an end to the possibility or the desire of\nsleep.\n\nThe immense and gloomy hall, one of those in use for the stately banquets\ncustomary among the leaders of Jerusalem, was suddenly a blaze of\ntorches. The malefactors and captives were thrown together in heaps,\nguarded by strong detachments of spearmen that lined the sides, like\nranges of iron statues, overlooking the mixed and moving confusion of\nwretched life between. Guilt, sorrow, and shame were there in their\ndreadful undisguise. The roof rang to oaths and screams of pain as the\nwounded tossed and rolled upon each other; rang to bitter lamentation,\nand more bitter still, to those self-accusing outcries which the near\napproach of violent death sometimes awakens in the most daring criminals.\nFor stern as the justice was, it still was justice; the Jewish character\nhad fearfully changed. Rapine and bloodshed had become the habits of the\npopulace, and among the panting and quivering wretches before me begging\na moment of life I recognized many a face that, seen in Jerusalem, was\nthe sign of plunder and massacre.\n\n[Sidenote: The Fury of the Condemned]\n\nRepulsive as my recollections were, I spent the greater part of the night\nin bandaging their wounds and relieving the thirst which scarcely less\nthan their wounds wrung them. There were women, too, among those wrecks\nof the sword, and now that the frenzy of the day was past, they exhibited\na picture of the most heart-breaking dejection. Lying on the ground\nwounded and with every lineament of their former selves disfigured, they\ncried from that living grave alternately for vengeance and for mercy.\nThen tearing their hair and flinging it, as their last mark of hatred and\nscorn, at the legionaries, they devoted them to ruin in the name of the\nGod of Israel. Then passion gave way to pain, and in floods of tears they\ncalled on the names of parent, husband, and child, whom they were to see\nno more!\n\nIt was known that at daybreak the prisoners were to die, and the din of\nhammers and the creaking of wagons bearing the crosses broke the night\nwith horrid intimation. At length the stillness terribly told that all\nwas prepared. The night, measured by moments, seemed endless, and many\na longing was uttered for the dawn that was to put them out of their\nmisery. Yet when the first gray light fell through the casements and the\ntrumpets sounded for the escort to get under arms, nothing could exceed\nthe fury of the crowd. Some rushed upon the spears of the reluctant\nsoldiery; some bounded in mad antics through the hall; others fell on\ntheir knees and offered up horrid and shuddering prayers; many flung\nthemselves upon the floor, and in the paroxysm of wrath and fear perished.\n\nShocked and sickened by this misery, I withdrew from the gate, where the\ntumult was thickest, as the soldiery were already driving them out, and\nreturned to my old lair, to await the will of fortune. But I found it\noccupied. A circle of the wounded were standing round a speaker, to whom\nthey listened with singular attention. The voice caught my ear; from the\ncrowd round him I was unable to observe his features, but once drawn\nwithin the sound of his words, I shared the general interest in their\nextraordinary power. He was a teacher of the new religion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Teachers of Christianity]\n\nIn my wanderings through Judea I had often met with those Nazarenes.\nTheir doctrines had a vivid simplicity that might have attracted my\nattention as a philosopher, but philosophy was cold to their power. The\nsplendor and strength of their preaching realized the boldest traditions\nof oratory. Yet their triumph was not that of oratory; they disclaimed\nall pretension to eloquence or learning, declaring that even if they\npossessed them, they dared not sully by human instruments of success the\nglory due to Heaven. They carried this self-denial to the singular extent\nof divulging every circumstance calculated to deprive themselves and\ntheir doctrines of popularity. They openly acknowledged that they were\nof humble birth and occupation, sinners like the rest of mankind, and\nin some instances guilty of former excesses of blind zeal, persecutors\nof the new religion, even to blood. Of their Master they spoke with the\nsame openness. They told of His humble origin, His career of rejection,\nand His death by the punishment of a slave. To the scoffer at their hopes\nof a kingdom to be given by the sufferer of that ignominious death, they\nunhesitatingly answered that their hope was founded expressly upon His\ndeath, and that they lived and rejoiced in the expectation that they\nwere, like Him, to seal their faith with their blood!\n\n[Sidenote: The Strength of the New Religion]\n\nI had often seen enthusiasm among my countrymen, but this was a spirit of\na distinct and a loftier birth. It had the vigor of enthusiasm without\nits rashness; the gentleness of infancy, with the wisdom of years; the\nsolemn reverence of the Jew for the divine Will, free from his jealous\nclaims to the sole possession of truth. The Law and the Prophets were\nperpetually in their hands, and they often embarrassed our haughty\ndoctors and acrid Pharisees with questions and interpretations to which\nno reply could be returned but a sneer or an anathema. But in the power\nof conviction, in the master art of striking the heart and understanding\nwith sudden light, like the bolt from heaven, I never heard, I never\nshall hear, their equals. To call it eloquence was to humiliate this\nstupendous gift; the most practised skill of the rhetorician gave way\nbefore it, like gossamer, like chaff before the whirlwind. It broke\nits way through sophistry by the mere weight of thought. It had a\nrapid reality that swept the hearer along. In its disdain of the mere\ndecorations of speech, in the bold and naked nerve of its language, there\nwas an irresistible energy\u2014the energy of the tempest, giving proof in its\nuntamable rushings of its descent from a region beyond the reach of man.\nI never listened to one of these preachers but with a consciousness that\nhe was the depository of mighty knowledge. He had the whole mystery of\nthe human affections bare to his eye. Among a thousand hearts one word\nsent conviction at the same instant. All their diversities of feeling,\nsorrow, and error were shaken at once by that universal language. It\ntalked to the soul!\n\nOf these overwhelming appeals, which often lasted for hours together\nand to which I listened overwhelmed, nothing is left to posterity but\na few fragments, and those letters which the Christians still preserve\namong their sacred writings\u2014great productions and giving all the\nimpression that it is possible to transmit to the future. But the living\nvoice, the illumined countenance, the frame glowing and instinct with\ninspiration!\u2014what can transmit them?\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said I, as I often stood and heard their voices thundering over\nthe multitude, \u201chere is the true power that is to shake the temples of\nheathenism. Here is a new element come to overthrow or to renovate the\nworld.\u201d\n\nI saw our holy law struggling to keep itself in existence, compressed on\nevery side by idolatry; a little fountain feebly urging its way through\nits native rocks, but exhausted and dried up at the moment it reached\nthe plain. But here was an ocean, an inexhaustible depth and breadth of\npower made to roll round the world, and be, at the will of Providence,\nthe illimitable instrument of its bounty. I saw our holy law feebly\nsheltering under its despoiled and insulted ordinances the truth of\nHeaven. But here was a religion scorning a narrower temple than the earth\nand the heaven!\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cThe Hour is Come\u201d]\n\nYet I turned away from those convictions. A thousand times I was on\nthe point of throwing myself at the feet of the men who bore this\ntranscendent gift and asking: \u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d A thousand times I could\nhave cried out: \u201cAlmost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.\u201d But oh, my\ndoubting heart! I make no attempt to account for myself or my career\u2014I\nhave felt as strongly driven back as if there were an actual hand forcing\nme away. The illusion was a willing one, and it was suffered, like all\nsuch, to hold me in its captivity. But even when I shrank away I have\nsaid: \u201cWhence had those men this knowledge? If angels from God were to\ncome down to reclaim the world, could they tell us things different or\ntell us more?\u201d\n\nI looked round upon the labors of ancient wisdom, and I saw how trivial\na space its utmost vigor had cleared, and how soon even that space was\noverrun by the rankness of the world, and I said: \u201cHere is the central\nfire, the mighty reservoir of light, awaiting but the divine command to\nburst up in splendor, consume the impurities of the world at once, and\nregenerate mankind.\u201d But the veil was upon my face. I labored against\nconviction, and shutting out the subject from my thoughts, sternly\ndetermined to live and die in the faith of my fathers.\n\nI now heard but the few and simple closing words of the speaker in this\ngroup of the devoted. He was sorrowful that the Gospel had been so\nlong committed to his hands in vain. He had, through fear of his own\ninadequacy, and in the remaining deference to the prejudices of his\npeople, suffered the truth to decay, and seen the illustrious labors of\nthe apostles without following their example.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said he, \u201cI was rebuked; the opportunity once neglected was\nrefused even to my prayers. I was thenceforth in perils, in civil war,\nin domestic sedition. I am but now come from a dungeon. But in my bonds\nit pleased Him, in whose hand are the heavens, to visit me. I knelt and\nprayed, acknowledging my sin, and beseeching Him that before I died\nI might proclaim His truth before Israel. In that hour came a voice,\nbidding me go forth; and lo! my chains fell from my hands and I went\nforth. And when I came to the gates of the dungeon, I willed to go\nforward to the city of David. But I was forbidden, and my steps were\nturned here, to awake my brethren to knowledge before they perish.\u201d\n\nThe trumpets rang again as a new crowd were drained off to execution. My\nheart sank at the melancholy sound, but among the converts there was not\na murmur.\n\n\u201cKneel,\u201d said the preacher; \u201cthe hour is come!\u201d\n\nThey knelt and he poured out his spirit aloud in prayer\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cGo Forth, Redeemed of the Lord\u201d]\n\n\u201cNow go forth,\u201d he said, rising alone, \u201cgo forth, redeemed of the Lord.\nThis night have ye known that He is gracious. Those things that God\nbefore hath shown by the mouth of all His prophets that Christ should\nsuffer, He hath fulfilled. But ye have heard, but ye have been converted,\nthat your sins may be blotted out when the times of refreshing shall\ncome. But ye have been called\u2014but ye have been justified\u2014but ye shall\nbe glorified. Our hope of you is stedfast\u2014knowing that as you have been\npartakers of His cross, so shall ye be of His kingdom. Now be grace unto\nyou, and peace from the King of Kings!\u201d\n\nHe laid his hands upon the kneeling converts and went slowly round,\nblessing them. His face had been hitherto turned from me, and I was too\nmuch impressed by his words and the awful circumstances in which he stood\neven to conjecture who he was. At length in moving round he came before\nme. To my inexpressible surprise and sorrow the teacher was Eleazar! I\nhad lost every trace of him since we parted in the fortress, and with\nsorrow of heart had concluded him a sacrifice to the common atrocities of\nour ferocious war. His long absence was now explained, but no explanation\ncould account for the extraordinary change that had been wrought upon\nhis countenance. Always generous and manly, yet the softness of a nature\nmade for domestic life had concealed the vigor of his understanding. He\nwas the general reconciler in the disputes of the neighboring districts,\nthe impartial judge, the unwearied friend, and his features had borne the\nstamp of this quiet career.\n\nBut the man before me bore uncontrollable energy in every tone and\nfeature. The failing flame of the torch that burned over his head was\nenough to show the transformation of his countenance into grandeur; his\nglance was a living fire; the hair that floated over it, changed by\ncaptivity to the whiteness of snow, shaded a forehead that seemed to have\nsuddenly expanded into majesty. If I had met such a man in a desert, I\nshould have augured in him the founder or the subverter of a throne.\n\nWhile I stood absolutely awed by his presence, a cohort of spearmen\npoured in to gather up the gleanings of the hall. Then was renewed the\nscene of misery. Wretches whom I had thought dead started from the ground\nand flung themselves at their feet, or rushed against the ranks, tore\nthe weapons out of their hands, and broke them in fury through the hall.\nOthers dashed their foreheads against the walls and floor and died upon\nthe spot. Others sprang up the projections of the sculpture and climbed\nwith the agility of leopards to the roof, to force the casements. But\nadditional troops poured in, and the crowd were overwhelmed and driven\nout to undergo their destiny.\n\nDuring this long tumult, the Christian converts continued kneeling and\nevidently absorbed by thoughts that extinguished fear. Even the sounds\nfrom without, that terribly told what was going on, and every tone of\nwhich pierced me to the heart, produced only a deeper supplication\nthat light would be given to the souls of the sufferers. This patience\nprobably induced the soldiery to leave them to the last, while they drove\nout the more untractable at the point of the spear, like cattle to the\nslaughter. I still stood aloof. The sacredness of the moments that came\nbefore death were not to be interrupted. The transformed Eleazar had\nalready passed away from the things of this world. I would not force them\non him again, nor vainly and cruelly disturb the holy serenity of one at\npeace alike with man and Heaven.\n\nAt length the order came.\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cGo to the Kingdom of Glory\u201d]\n\n\u201cNow, my beloved brothers, beloved in the Lord, go forth,\u201d said Eleazar,\nwith a noble exultation glowing in his countenance, \u201cquit ye like men;\nbe strong; fear not them who can kill only the body. Even this night saw\nyou still in your sins\u2014the wisdom that was before all worlds, hidden from\nyou. But He that calleth light out of darkness hath wrought in you. He\nhath poured upon you that Spirit which is an earnest of your inheritance,\nholy, incorruptible, eternal in the heavens. Now, sons of Abraham,\nredeemed of Christ, kings and priests of God forever, go where He is gone\nto prepare a place for you\u2014go to the house of many mansions\u2014go to the\nkingdom of glory!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018Now, my beloved brothers, beloved in the Lord, go\nforth,\u2019 said Eleazar.\u201d\n\n [_see page 452._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\nWith tears and blessings Eleazar took water and baptized the converts.\nThey sang a hymn, and then rising, moved toward the gate, the soldiers\nstanding at a distance and looking on at this more than heroic\nresignation with eyes of respect and wonder.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Confronts Eleazar]\n\nI could restrain myself no longer. I grasped Eleazar; he instantly\nrecognized me, and the color that shot through his cheek showed that with\nme came a tide of memory. I was speechless; I embraced him; tears of old\nfriendship dimmed my eyes. He was overpowered like myself, and could only\nexclaim:\n\n\u201cSalathiel, my brother! What misfortune has brought you here? Where is\nMiriam? Where are your children? You can not be a prisoner? Fly from this\ndreadful place!\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, my brother, unless I can save you. The tyrants shall have the\ncurse of both upon their heads.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is madness, Salathiel\u2014impiety! Oh, that you were this moment even\nas I am\u2014in all but death! It is your duty to live; you have many ties to\nthe world.\u201d\n\nHe paused, and with a look upward said in a tone of prayer:\n\n\u201cOh, that you were at this moment awake to the truths, the holy and\nimperishable consolations, that make the cross to me more triumphant than\na throne!\u201d\n\nThe theme was a painful one. He instantly saw my perturbation and\nforebore to urge me; but fixing his humid eyes on heaven, and with\nuplifted hands, he gave me his parting benediction.\n\n\u201cMay the time come,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen the veil shall be taken away from the\nface of my unhappy kindred and of my undone country! When the days of the\ndesolation of Israel come to be accomplished, let her kneel before the\naltar!\u2014let her weep in sackcloth and repent of her iniquities; so shall\nthe sun of glory arise upon her once more.\u201d\n\nThen, as if a flash of knowledge had darted into his soul, he fixed his\nsolemn gaze on me.\n\n[Sidenote: A Day of Brightness]\n\n\u201cSalathiel, you are not fit to die; pray that you may not now sink\ninto the grave. You have fierce impulses, of whose power you have yet\nno conception. Supplicate for length of years; rather endure all the\nmiseries of exile; be alone upon the earth\u2014weary, wild, and desolate; but\npray that you may not die until you know the truths that Israel yet shall\nknow. Let it be for me to die, and seal my faith by my blood. Let it be\nfor you to live, and seal it by your penitence. But live in hope. Even\non earth, a day bright beyond earthly splendor, lovely beyond all the\nvisions of beauty, magnificent and powerful beyond the loftiest thought\nof human nature, shall come, and we, even we, my brother, shall on earth\nmeet again.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LIX\n\n_The Clemency of Titus_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Supplication]\n\nThere was a thrilling influence in the words of Eleazar that left me\nwithout reply, and for a while I stood absorbed. When I raised my eyes\nagain, I saw him following the melancholy train down the valley of\nslaughter. I rushed after him. He would not listen to my entreaties; he\nwould suffer no ransom to be offered for his life. I supplicated the\ntribune of the escort for a moment\u2019s delay until I could solicit mercy\nfrom Titus. The officer, himself deeply pained by the service on which\nhe was ordered, had no authority, but sent a centurion with me to the\ngeneral commanding.\n\nI hurried my guide through the immense force drawn up to witness the\noffering to the shades of the Roman senators and soldiers. The morning\nwas stormy, and clouds covering the ridges of the hills darkened the\nfeeble dawn so much that torches were necessary to direct the movement\nof the troops. The wind came howling through the spears and standards,\nbut with it came the fiercer sounds of human agony. As we reached the\nentrance of the valley, the centurion pointed to a height where the\ngeneral stood in the midst of a group of mounted officers, wrapped in\ntheir cloaks against the snows that came furiously whirling from the\nhills. I darted up the steep with a rapidity that left my companion far\nbelow, and implored the Roman humanity for my countrymen and for my noble\nand innocent brother.\n\nOn my knee, that I had never before bowed to man, I besought the muffled\nform, whom I took for the illustrious son of Vespasian, to spare men\n\u201cwhose only crime was that of having defended their country.\u201d I adjured\nthe heir of the empire \u201cto rescue from an ignominious fate, subjects\ndriven into revolt only by violences which he would be the first to\ndisown.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d exclaimed I, \u201cyou demand money for the lives of my countrymen,\nit shall be given even to our last ounce of silver; if you would have\nterritory, we will give up our lands and go forth exiles. If you must\nhave life for life, take mine, and let my brother go free!\u201d\n\nThe form slowly removed the cloak and Cestius was before me.\n\n\u201cSo,\u201d said he, with a malignant smile, \u201cyou can kneel, Jew, and play the\nrhetorician; however, as you are here, your having escaped me once is no\nreason why you should laugh at justice a second time. Here, Torquatus,\u201d\nhe beckoned to a centurion, \u201ctake this rebel to the crosses and bring\nme an account of the way in which he behaves. You see, Jew, that I have\nsome care of your reputation. A fellow careless as you are would probably\nhave died like a slave in a skirmish; but you shall now figure before\nyour countrymen as a patriot should, and die with the honors of a native\nrebel.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Valley of the Crosses]\n\nI disdained to answer. The officer came up, attended by his spearmen, and\nI was led down to the valley. A storm of extraordinary violence, long\ngathering on the sky, broke forth as I descended, and it was only by\ngrasping the rocks and shrubs on the side of the declivity that we could\navoid being blown away. We staggered along, blinded, and half frozen.\nThe storm fell heavily upon the legions, and the heights were quickly\nabandoned for the shelter of the valley. The valley itself was a sheet\nof snow, torn up by blasts that drifted it hazardously upon the troops\nand threw everything into confusion. But the sight that opened on me as I\npassed the first gorge effaced storm and soldiery, and might have effaced\nthe world, from my mind. Through the whole extent of the naked and rocky\nhollow were planted crosses. The ravine, dark even in sunshine, was now\nblack as midnight, and its only light was from the scattered torches\nand the fires into which the bodies of the victims were flung as they\ndied, to make room for others. On those crosses hung hundreds, writhing\nin miseries made only to show the hideous capability of suffering that\nexists in our frame. I was instantly recognized, and many a hand was\nstretched out to me imploring that I should mercifully hasten death. I\nheard my name called on as their prince, their leader, their countryman;\nI heard voices calling on me to remember and revenge! Horror-struck,\nI raved at the legionaries and their tyrant master until I sank upon\nthe ground in exhaustion, covering my head with my mantle that I might\nexclude alike sight and sound.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Awed by a Face]\n\nA voice at my side aroused me; a cross had just been fixed on the spot,\nand at its foot stood, preparing for death, the man who had spoken. I\nlooked upon his face and gave an involuntary cry. For seven-and-thirty\nyears I had not seen that face; but I had seen it on a NIGHT never to be\nerased from my remembrance or my soul! I knew every feature of it through\nall the changes of years!\n\nManhood had passed into age; the bold and sanguine countenance was\nfurrowed with cares and crimes. But I knew at once the man who had on\nthat night been foremost at my call; the daring rabble-leader who had\nfirst shouted at my fatal summons, and maddened the multitude, as I had\nmaddened myself and him. He turned his glance upon me at the cry. His\npale visage grew black as death. The past flashed upon his soul. He shook\nfrom head to foot with keen convulsion. He gasped and tried to speak, but\nno words came. He beat his breast wildly and pointed to the cross with\ndreadful meaning. The executioner, a brutal slave, scoffed at him as a\ndastard. He heard nothing, but with his pallid eyes staring on me and his\nhand pointed upward, stood stiffening. Life departed as he stood! The\nexecutioner, impatient, laid his grasp upon him, but he was beyond the\npower of man. He fell backward like a pillar of stone!\n\nI started from the corpse, and utterly unnerved, looked wildly round for\nsome way of escape from this scene of despair. As I tried to penetrate\nthe dusk toward the bottom of the valley, Eleazar was seen at the head\nof his little band, standing at the foot of a cross, surrounded by\nsoldiers. I thought no more of safety, and plunging into the valley,\nforced my way through the rocks and snowdrifts until I reached the\nfoot of the declivity on which this true hero was about to die. But\nthere an impenetrable fence of spears stopped me. I implored, execrated,\nstruggled; Eleazar\u2019s look fell on me, and the smile on his uplifted\ncountenance showed at once how much he thanked me and how calmly he was\nprepared to bid the world farewell. My struggles were useless, and I had\nbut one resource more. I flew with a swiftness that baffled pursuit to\nthe camp; passed the entrenchments by the breaches left since the battle,\nand before I could be stopped or questioned, entered the tent of Titus.\n\n[Sidenote: News from Rome]\n\nThe supper-lamps were burning, and three stately-looking men still\nlingered over the table, one of the few unpopular luxuries of the\ngeneral. A large packet of letters was being distributed by a page, and\nwhile I stood in the shade of the tent-curtain a moment, until I should\nascertain whether Titus was among the three, I was made the unwilling\nsharer of the secrets of Rome.\n\n\u201cAll is going on well,\u201d said one of the readers; \u201chere, that truest of\ncourtiers, my showy friend, Statilius, sends, compiled by his own hand,\nan endless list of the pomps and processions, games and congratulations,\nin the Emperor\u2019s progress through Italy. The intelligence is not the\nnewest in the world, but it would break my courtly friend\u2019s heart to\nthink that he had not the happiness of giving it first. So let him think,\nand so let him worship the rising sun, until another dynasty comes, and\nhe discovers that if this sun has risen in the East, a much finer one may\nrise in the West. Thus runs the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWar with the Britons,\u201d read another; \u201cthey have marched a hundred of\ntheir naked clans from the hills. The remnant of the Druids are busy\nagain with their incantations, and it is more than suspected that the\nwhole is stirred up by our incomparable governor of western Gaul, who\naffects the diadem, like all the ridiculous governors of the age.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell then, he shall have his wish,\u201d said a third, \u201cthe Emperor will give\nhim, of course, a court fit for a rebel: his council, lictors; and his\npalace, the Mamertine. But as to the Britons, I doubt if they care one\nof their own leather pence whether he wears the diadem or the halter.\nThe savages have probably been vexed by some new attempt to squeeze money\nfrom them\u2014the quickest way to try the national sensibilities. They have\nthe spirit of trade in them already, and are as keen in the barter of\ntheir wolf-skins and bulls\u2019-hides as if they supplied the world with\nTyrian canopies and Indian pearls.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: A Letter from Sempronius]\n\n\u201cA letter from Sempronius!\u201d was the next topic; \u201cits exquisite intaglio\nand elaborate perfumes would betray it all the world over; full of\nscandals, as usual, and full of discontent. He seems quite dismantled,\nand complains that\u2014the sex is growing ugly, the seasons comfortless, and\nmankind dull; a certain sign that my emptiest of friends and the best\ndresser in Italy is growing old.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo much the better for his circle,\u201d said another, sipping his goblet.\n\u201cAs for himself, while he can flourish in curls and calumny, he will be\nhappy, the true man of high life, a prey to tailors, a figure for actors\nto burlesque, and an inveterate weariness to the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut here is a private despatch from the Emperor, and, unfortunately for\nhuman eyes, written in his own most unreadable hand.\u201d\n\nThe speaker stood up to the lamp and gave me an opportunity of observing\nhim. His countenance and figure struck me as what no other word could\nexpress than\u2014princely.[53] The features were handsome and strongly marked\nItalian, and the form, tho tending to breadth and rather under the usual\nstature, was eminently dignified. His voice, too, was remarkable. I never\nheard one that more completely united softness and majesty. Here I could\nhave but the shadow of a doubt that I had found Titus; yet I had that\nshadow. Our meeting in the field, where we had fought hand to hand, gave\nme no recollection of the man before me. Titus might not even be among\nthe three, and nothing but seizure and ruin could be the consequence of\ndiscovering myself to subordinates.\n\n\u201cGood news, it is to be hoped,\u201d said both the listeners together as they\ndeferentially watched his perusal.\n\n\u201cNone whatever; a mere private chronicle in the Emperor\u2019s usual style;\nall kinds of oddities together. He laughs at me for complaining of the\nwant of intelligence from Rome, and says that unless we send him some,\nthe politicians of the city will die of emptiness or raise a rebellion;\nand that he is the most ill-used personage in the empire in being obliged\nto supply brains for so many blockheads and keep up the reputation of an\nhonest man in the midst of so many knaves. But he mentions, and for that\nI am deeply grateful, that he has just erected the golden statue, which\nI vowed so long ago to the memory of my unfortunate friend Britannicus,\nand is about to dedicate a bronze equestrian one to me, to be placed in\nthe Circus. He concludes the epistle by saying that unless the British\ninsurrection speedily blows over, he shall be a beggar, and must turn\ntribune for a livelihood; defends his impracticable manuscript, which, he\nsays, I am imitating as fast as I can, and repeats his old jest, that if\nI were not born to be a prince and an idler, I might have made my bread\nby my talents for forgery.\u201d\n\nHis hearers repaid the imperial merriment by its full tribute of loyal\nlaughter.\n\nDoubt was now at an end, and I advanced. My step roused the party,\nand they started up, drawing their swords. But the quick eye of Titus\nrecognized me, and satisfying his companions by a gesture, I heard him\npronounce to them: \u201cMy antagonist, the prince of Naphtali.\u201d\n\nThere was no time for ceremony, and I addressed him at once.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Appeals to Titus]\n\n\u201cSon of Vespasian, you are a soldier, and know what is due to the brave.\nI come to solicit your mercy; it is the first time that I ever stooped\nto solicit man. My brother, a chieftain of Israel, is in your hands,\ncondemned to the horrid death of the cross; he is virtuous, brave, and\nnoble; save him, and you will do an act of justice more honorable to your\nname than the bloodiest victory.\u201d\n\nTitus looked at me in silence, and was evidently perplexed; then he\nreturned to his chair, and having consulted with his companions,\nhesitatingly said:\n\n\u201cPrince, you know not what you have asked. I am bound, like others,\nby the Emperor\u2019s commands, and they strictly are, that none of your\ncountrymen, taken after the offer of peace, must live.\u201d\n\n\u201cHear this, God of Israel!\u201d I cried; \u201cKing of Vengeance, hear and\nremember!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are rash, prince,\u201d said Titus gravely; \u201cyet I can forgive your\nnational temper. With others, even your venturing here might bring you\ninto hazard. But the perfidy of your people makes truce and treaty\nimpossible. They leave me no alternative. I lament the necessity. It is\nthe desire of the illustrious Vespasian to reign in peace. But this is\nnow at an end.\u201d\n\nHe paused, and advancing toward me, offered his hand with the words: \u201cI\nknow that there are brave and high-minded men among your nation. I have\nbeen astonished at the valor, nay, I will call it the daring and heroic\ncontempt of suffering and death, that this siege has already shown. I\nhave been witness, too,\u201d and he smiled, \u201cof the prince of Naphtali\u2019s\nprowess in the field, and I would most willingly have such among my\nfriends.\u201d\n\nI waited for the conclusion.\n\n[Sidenote: The Offer of Titus]\n\n\u201cWhy not come among us,\u201d he said; \u201cgive up a resistance that must end\nin ruin; abandon a cause that all the world sees to be desperate; save\nyourself from popular caprice, the violence of your rancorous factions,\nand the final fall of your city? Be C\u00e6sar\u2019s friend, and name what\npossession, power, or rank you will.\u201d\n\nThe thought of deserting the cause of Jerusalem was profanation. I drew\nback and looked at the majestic Roman as if I saw the original tempter\nbefore me.\n\n\u201cSon of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man; I may in the next be an\nexile or a slave. I have ties to life as strong as ever were bound round\nthe heart of man; I stand here a suppliant for the life of one whose\nloss would embitter mine! Yet not for wealth unlimited, for the safety\nof my family, for the life of the noble victim that is now standing at\nthe place of torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of\nabandoning, the cause of the City of Holiness.\u201d\n\nThe picture of her ruin rose before my eyes, and tears forced their way;\nmy strength was dissolved; my voice was choked. The Romans fixed their\nlooks on the ground, affected by the sincerity of a soldier\u2019s sorrow. I\ntook the hand that was again offered.\n\n\u201cTitus! in the name of that Being to whom the wisdom of the earth is\nfolly, I adjure you to beware. Jerusalem is sacred. Her crimes have often\nwrought her misery\u2014often has she been trampled by the armies of the\nstranger. But she is still the City of the Omnipotent, and never was blow\ninflicted on her by man that was not terribly repaid. Hear me a moment.\u201d\n\nTitus stood at this, and I continued:\n\n[Sidenote: The Passing of Power]\n\n\u201cThe Assyrian came, the mightiest power of the world; he plundered her\nTemple and led her people into captivity. How long was it before his\nempire was a dream, his dynasty extinguished in blood, and an enemy on\nhis throne? The Persian came; from her protector he turned into her\noppressor, and his empire was swept away like the dust of the desert! The\nSyrian smote her; the smiter died in agonies of remorse, and where is his\nkingdom now? The Egyptian smote her, and who now sits on the throne of\nthe Ptolemies? Pompey came\u2014the invincible conqueror of a thousand cities,\nthe light of Rome, the lord of Asia riding on the very wings of victory.\nBut he profaned her Temple, and from that hour he went down\u2014down, like a\nmillstone plunged into the ocean! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish\nfears were upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome. Where does he\nsleep? What sands were colored with his blood? The universal conqueror\ndied a slave by the hands of a slave! Crassus came at the head of the\nlegions; he plundered the sacred vessels of the sanctuary. Vengeance\nfollowed him, and he was cursed by the curse of God. Where are the bones\nof the robber, and his host? Go tear them from the jaws of the lion and\nthe wolf of Parthia\u2014their fitting tomb!\n\n[Sidenote: A Recognition and a Lie]\n\n\u201cYou, too, son of Vespasian, may be commissioned for the punishment of a\nstiff-necked and rebellious people. You may scourge our naked vice by the\nforce of arms; and then you may return to your own land, exulting in the\nconquest of the fiercest enemy of Rome. But shall you escape the common\nfate of the instrument of evil? Shall you see a peaceful old age? Shall a\nson of yours ever sit upon the throne? Shall not rather some monster of\nyour blood efface the memory of your virtues, and make Rome in bitterness\nof soul curse the Flavian name?\u201d\n\nTitus grew pale, and shuddering, covered his eyes with his mantle. His\ncompanions stood gazing on me with the aspect of men gazing on the\nmessenger of fate.\n\n\u201cSpare Eleazar,\u201d was all that I could utter.\n\nTitus made a sign to a tribune, who flew to bear, if not too late, the\ncommand of mercy.\n\nWhile we continued in a silence that none of us felt inclined to break, a\ndoor opened behind me and an officer entered. It was Septimius. I seized\nhim by the throat.\n\n\u201cVillain!\u201d I cried, \u201cgive me back my child; base hypocrite! give up my\ninnocent daughter. Where have you taken her? Lead me to her, or die!\u201d\n\nTitus rose, in evident surprise and indignation.\n\n\u201cWhat do I hear, Septimius? Have you been guilty of this offense? Prince,\nlet him loose until his general shall hear what he has to say for\nhimself.\u201d\n\nSeptimius affected the most extreme and easy ignorance.\n\n\u201cMost noble Titus, I have to thank you for having saved my neck from the\ngrasp of this hasty personage; but beyond that I have nothing to say for\nmyself or any one else. I never saw this man before. I know no more of\nhis daughter than of the queen of Abyssinia, or the three-formed Diana;\nand by the goddess, I swear that I believe him to be perfectly under her\ninfluence, and either a lunatic or a most excellent actor. Be honest,\nJew, if you can, and acknowledge that you never saw me before in your\nlife.\u201d\n\nI stood in astonishment; his effrontery struck me dumb.\n\n[Sidenote: Warned of an Assassin]\n\n\u201cYou perceive, most noble Titus,\u201d he went on, \u201chow a plain question\nputs an end to this public accuser\u2019s charges. But in his present state,\nwhether affected or real, he should not be suffered to go at large;\nsuffer me to send him to my quarters, where he shall be guarded, until\nwe at least find out what brought him here.\u201d\n\n\u201cIngrate,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cyou make me hate human nature! Better that I had\nleft you to be trampled like the viper that you are.\u201d\n\nThe dark eye of the general, again turned on Septimius, seemed to require\na graver explanation.\n\n\u201cIngrate!\u201d retorted he. \u201cBy Jupiter, the fellow\u2019s insolence is superb.\nFor what should I be grateful? but for my escape from his detestable\nhands. Very probably he figured among the rabble that would have murdered\nme as they did the rest of us; grateful, yes, I ought to be for the\nlesson never to venture within his walls on the faith of the traitors\nthat hold them. But let me be allowed to say, most noble Titus, that you\ncondescend too much in listening to any of this rabble; nay, that you\nhazard the safety of the state in hazarding your person within the reach\nof one of a race of assassins.\u201d\n\nTitus smiled, and waved back his companions, who, on the surmise, were\napproaching him.\n\n\u201cLet me be honored with your commands,\u201d urged Septimius, \u201cto take this\nperson in charge; felon or insane, I shall speedily put him in the way of\ncure.\u201d\n\nA tribune, breathless with haste, came in at the moment with a letter,\nwhich he gave to Titus, and retired to a distant part of the tent to\nawait the answer. The color rose to the Roman\u2019s cheek as he looked over\nthe paper; he showed it to his companions, and then put it into my hand.\nI read the words:\n\n\u201cAn assassin, hired by the chiefs of Jerusalem, yesterday passed the\ngates. His object is the life of the Roman general. He goes under the\npretense of recovering one of his family, supposed to be carried off from\nthe city, but who has never left his house. He has communications with\nthe camp, by which he can enter at pleasure, and the noble Titus can not\nbe too much on his guard.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Held in Custody]\n\nThe note was in an enclosure from Cestius, stating that it had just been\ntransmitted to him from a high authority in Jerusalem. I flung it on the\nground with the scorn due to such an accusation, declaring that it was\nunnecessary for \u201cmy enemy Cestius to have put his name to a document\nwhich so easily revealed its writer.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou, of course, Septimius,\u201d said the general, fixing his penetrating\ngaze on him, \u201ccould know nothing of this letter.\u201d\n\nSeptimius entered on his defense with seriousness, and showed that from\nthe time and circumstances no share in it could be attached to him.\nTitus retired a few steps, and having consulted with the officers, who I\nperceived were unanimous for my being instantly put to death, addressed\nme in that grave and silver-toned voice which characterized the singular\ncomposure of his nature.\n\n\u201cWe have exchanged blows and pledges of honor, prince, and I will not\nsuffer myself to believe that a man of your rank and soldiership could\nstoop to the crime charged here. In truth, were none but personal\nconsiderations in question, I should instantly set you free. But there\nare weighty interests connected with my life, which make it seem fitting\nto my friends and advisers that in all cases precautions should be taken\nwhich otherwise I should disdain. To satisfy their minds, and the spirit\nof the Emperor\u2019s orders, I must detain you for a few days. Your treatment\nshall be honorable.\u201d\n\nSeptimius advanced again to demand my custody, but a look repelled the\nrequest, and I was directed to follow one of the secretaries of Titus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LX\n\n_The Treatment of a Prisoner_\n\n\n[Sidenote: A Favored Prisoner]\n\nA troop of cavalry were at the tent door. We set off through the storm,\nand a few miles from the camp reached a large building peopled with a\ncrowd of high functionaries attached to Titus as governor of Judea.\n\n\u201cYou must be a prodigious favorite with the general,\u201d said my companion,\nas we passed through a range of magnificent rooms furnished with Italian\nluxury, \u201cor he would never have sent you here. He had these chambers\nprepared for his own residence, but your countrymen have kept him too\nbusy, and for the last month he is indebted to them for sleeping under\ncanvas.\u201d\n\nI observed that \u201cpeace was the first wish of my heart, but that no people\ncould be reproached with contending too boldly for freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe sentiment is Roman,\u201d was the reply. \u201cBut let us come to the fact.\nTitus, once fixed in the government, would be worth all the fantasies\nthat ever fed the declaimers on independence. His character is peace,\nand if he ever comes to the empire, he will make the first of monarchs.\nYou should try him and reap the first fruits of his talent for making\npeople happy. There, look round this room; you see every panel hung with\na picture, a lyre, or a volume; what does that tell?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not the habits of a camp; yet he is distinguished in the\nfield.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Emperor]\n\n\u201cNo man more. There is not a rider in the legions who can sit a horse or\nthrow a lance better. He has the talents of a general besides; and more\nthan all, he has the most iron perseverance that ever dwelt in man. If\nthe two armies were to slaughter each other until there was but half a\ndozen spearmen left between them, Titus would head his remnant and fight\nuntil he died. But whether it is nature or the poison that he drank along\nwith Britannicus, he wants the eternal vividness of his father. Aye,\nthere was the soldier for the legions. Look, prince, at this picture,[54]\nand tell me what you think of the countenance.\u201d\n\nHe drew aside a curtain that covered a superb portrait of the Emperor.\nI saw a countenance of incomparable shrewdness, eccentricity, and\nself-enjoyment. Every feature told the same tale, from the rounded and\ndimpled chin to the broad and deeply veined forehead, overhung with its\nrough mat of hair. The hooked nose, the deep wrinkles about the lips, the\nthick dark eyebrows, obliquely raised as if some new jest was gathering,\nshowed the perpetual humorist. But the eye beneath that brow\u2014an orb black\nas charcoal, with a spot of intense brightness in the center, as if a\nbreath could turn that coal into flame\u2014belonged to the supreme sagacity\nand determination that had raised Vespasian from a tent to the throne.\n\nThe secretary, whose jovial character strongly resembled that of the\nobject of his panegyric, could not restrain his admiration.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said he, \u201cis the man who has fought more battles, said more good\nthings, and taken less physic than any emperor that ever wore the diadem.\nI served with him from decurion up to tribune, and he was always the\nsame\u2014active, brave, and laughing from morn to night. Old as he is, day\nnever finds him in his bed. He rides, swims, runs, outjests everybody,\nand frowns at nothing on earth but an old woman and a physician. He loves\nmoney, \u2019tis true; yet what he squeezes from the overgrown, he scatters\nlike a prince. But his mirth is inexhaustible; a little rough, so much\nfor his camp education; but the most curious mixture of justice, spleen,\nand pleasantry in the world.\u201d\n\nMy companion\u2019s memory teemed with examples.\n\n[Sidenote: An Emperor\u2019s Traits]\n\n\u201cAn Alexandrian governor was ordered to Rome to account for a long\ncourse of extortion; immediately on his arrival he pretended to be taken\nviolently ill, which, of course, put off the inquiry. The Emperor heard\nof this, expressed the greatest interest in so meritorious a public\nservant, paid him a visit the next day, disguised as a physician, ordered\nhim a variety of medicines, which the unfortunate governor was compelled\nto take, renewed his visit regularly every day, and every day charged him\nan enormous fee! Beggary stared the governor in the face, and never was a\ncomplication of disorders so rapidly cured!\n\n\u201cI was riding out in his attendance one day a few miles from Rome when we\nsaw a fellow beating his mule cruelly, and on being called to, insisted\non his right to torture the animal. I was indignant and would have\nfought the mule\u2019s quarrel. But the Emperor laughed at my zeal, and after\nsome jesting with the brutal owner, bought the mule, only annexing the\ncondition that the fellow should lead it to the stable; he actually sent\nhim with the mule two hundred and fifty miles on foot, to one of his\npalaces in Gaul, and with a lictor after him to see that the contract was\nfairly performed.\n\n\u201cOne of his chamberlains had been soliciting a place about court, for,\nas he said, his brother. The Emperor found out the fact that it was for\na stranger, who was to lay down a large sum. He sent for the stranger,\nratified the bargain, gave him the place, and put the money in his own\npocket. The chamberlain was in great alarm on meeting the Emperor some\ndays after. \u2018Your dejection is natural enough,\u2019 said Vespasian, \u2018as you\nhave so lately lost your brother; but, then, you should wish me joy, for\nhe has become mine!\u2019\n\n\u201cBy the altar of Momus and the brass beard of the god Ridiculous, I could\ntell you a hundred things of the same kind,\u201d continued the jovial and\ninexhaustible secretary; \u201ctake but one more.\n\n[Sidenote: Betraying Court Secrets]\n\n\u201cOne of our great patricians, an \u00c6milian, and as vain and insolent a\nbeast as lives, had ordered a quantity of a particular striped cloth,\nwhich it cost the merchant infinite pains to procure. But the great man\u2019s\ntaste had altered in the mean time, and he returned the cloth without\nceremony, threatening, besides, that if the merchant made any clamors on\nthe subject, his payment should be six months\u2019 work in the slave-mill.\nThe man, on the verge of ruin, came, tearing his hair and bursting with\nrage, to lay his complaint before the Emperor, who, however, plainly\ntold him that there was no remedy, but desired him to send a dress of\nthe same cloth to the palace. Within the week the patrician was honored\nwith a message that the Emperor would dine with him, and the message was\naccompanied with the dress and an intimation that Vespasian wished to\nmake it popular. Rome was instantly ransacked for the cloth, but not a\nyard of it was to be found but in the merchant\u2019s hands. The patrician\u2019s\nhousehold must be equipped in it, cost what it would. The dealer, in\npleasant revenge, charged ten times the value, and his fortune was made\nin a day.\n\n\u201cNow Titus, with many a noble quality, is altogether another man. He\nabhors the Emperor\u2019s rough-hewn jocularity; he speaks Greek better than\nthe Emperor does his own tongue; is a poet, and a clever one besides, in\nboth languages; extemporizes verse with elegance; is no mean performer\non the lyre; sings; is a picture-lover, and so forth. I believe from my\nsoul that, with all his talents for war and government, he would rather\nspend his day over books and his evenings among poets and philosophers,\nor telling Italian tales to the ears of some of your brilliant orientals,\nthan ride over the world at the head of legions. And now,\u201d said my\nopen-hearted guide, \u201chaving betrayed court secrets enough for one day,\nI must leave you and return to the camp. Here you will spend your time\nas you please until some decision is come to. The household is at your\nservice, and the officer in command will attend your orders. Farewell!\u201d\n\nCaptivity is wretchedness, even if the captive trod on cloth of gold. My\ntreatment was imperial; a banquet that might have feasted a Roman epicure\nwas laid before me; a crowd of attendants, sumptuously habited, waited\nround the table; music played, perfumes burned, and the whole ceremonial\nof princely luxury was gone through, as if Titus were present instead\nof his heart-broken prisoner. But to that prisoner bread and water with\nfreedom would have been the truer luxury.\n\nI wandered through the spacious apartments, dazzled by their splendor\nand often ready to ask: \u201cCan man be unhappy in the midst of these\nthings?\u201d yet answering the question in the pang of heart which they were\nso powerless to soothe. I took down the richly blazoned volumes of the\nWestern poets, and while at every line that I unrolled, I felt how much\nricher were their contents than the gold and gems that encased them,\nstill I felt the inadequacy of even their beauty and vigor to console the\nspirit stricken by real calamity. I strayed to the crystal casements,\nthrough which the sunset had begun to pour in a tide of glory. The\nlandscape was beautiful\u2014a peaceful valley, shut in with lofty eminences,\non whose marble foreheads the sunbeams wrought coronets as colored and\nglittering as ever were set with chrysolite and ruby. The snow was\ngone as rapidly as it had come, and the green earth, in the freshness\nof the bright hour, might almost be said \u201cto laugh and sing.\u201d The air\ncame, laden with the fragrance of flowers. There was a light and joyous\nbeauty in even the waving of the shrubs as they shook off the moisture\nin sparkles at every wave; birds innumerable broke out into song, and\nfluttered their little wet wings with delight in the sunshine; and the\nrivulet, still swelled with the snows, ran dimpling and gurgling along\nwith a music of its own.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Alone]\n\nBut the true sadness of the soul is not to be scattered even by the\nloveliness of external things. I turned from the sun and nature to fling\nmyself on my couch and feel that where a man\u2019s treasure is, there his\nheart is also.\n\n\u201cWhat might not in those hours be doing in Jerusalem?\u201d mused I; \u201cwhat\nfanatic violence, personal revenge, or public license might not be let\nloose while I was lingering among the costly vanities of the pagan? My\nenemy at least was there in the possession of unbridled authority\u201d; and\nthe thought was in itself a history of evil. \u201cAnd where was Esther, my\nbeloved, the child of my soul, the glowing and magnificent-minded being\nwhose beauty and whose thoughts were scarcely mortal? Might she not be\nin the last extremity of suffering, upbraiding me for having forgotten\nmy child; or in the hands of robbers, dragging her delicate form through\nrocks and sands; or dying, without a hand to succor, or a voice to cheer\nher in the hour of agony?\u201d\n\nThought annihilates time, and I had lain one day thus sinking from depth\nto depth, I know not how long, until I was roused by the entrance of the\nusual endless train of attendants; and the chief steward, a venerable man\nof my country, whom Titus had generously continued in the office where\nhe found him, came to acquaint me that the banquet awaited my pleasure.\nThe old man wept at the sight of a chieftain of Israel in captivity;\nhis heart was full, and when I had dismissed the attendants with their\nuntasted banquet, he gave way to his recollections.\n\n[Sidenote: In the Palace of Ananus]\n\nThe palace was once the dwelling of Ananus, the high priest whose death\nunder the cruelest circumstances was the leading triumph of the factions\nand the ruin of Jerusalem. In the very chamber where I sat he had spent\nthe last day of his life, and left it only to take charge of the Temple\non the fatal night of the assault by the Idum\u00e6ans. He was wise and\nvigorous, but what is the wisdom of man? A storm, memorable in the annals\nof devastation, had raged during the night. Ananus, convinced that all\nwas safe from human hostility in this ravage of the elements, suffered\nthe wearied citizens to retire from their posts. The gates were opened\nby traitors; the Idum\u00e6ans, furious for blood and spoil, rushed in; the\nguard, surprised in their sleep, were massacred; and by daylight eight\nthousand corpses lay on the sacred pavements of the Temple, and among\nthem the noblest and wisest man of Judea, Ananus.\n\n\u201cI found,\u201d said the old man, \u201cthe body of my great and good lord under\na heap of dead, but was not suffered to convey it to the tomb of his\nfathers, in the valley of Jehoshaphat. I brought his sword and his\nphylactery here, and they are now the only memorials of the noblest line\nthat perished since the Maccabee. In these chambers I have remained\nsince, and in them it is my hope to die. The palace is large; the Roman\nsenators and officers reside in another wing, which I have not entered\nfor years, and shall never enter; mild masters as the Romans have been to\nme, I can not bear to see them masters within the walls of a chief of my\ncountry.\u201d\n\nThe story of Naomi occurred to me, but she was so much beyond my hope\nof discovery that I forbore to renew the old man\u2019s griefs by her name. A\nsound of trumpets and the trampling of cavalry were now heard from the\nportal.\n\n\u201cIt is but the nightly changing of the troops,\u201d said the steward, \u201cor\nperhaps the arrival of officers from the camp; they often ride here after\nnightfall to supper, spend a few hours, and by daybreak are gone. But of\nthem and their proceedings I know nothing. No Jew enters, or desires to\nenter, the banquet-hall of the enemies of his country.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: In Closer Confinement]\n\nA knocking at the door interrupted him, and an officer appeared with\nan order for the prisoner in the palace to be removed into strict\nconfinement. The venerable steward gave way to tears at the new offense\nto a leader of his people. I felt some surprise, but merely asked what\nnew alarm had demanded this harsh measure.\n\n\u201cI know no more,\u201d replied the officer, \u201cthan that the general has arrived\nhere a few minutes since, and that as some attempts have been lately made\non his life, the council have thought proper to put the Jewish poniards\nas much out of his way as they can. The order is universal, and I am\ndirected to lead you to your apartment.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let them look to my escape,\u201d said I; \u201cI thank the council for this\nservice. While I continued above suspicion, they might have thrown open\nevery door in their dungeons. But since they thus degrade me, you may\ntell them that their walls should be high and their bolts strong to keep\nme their prisoner. Lead on, sir.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s New Quarters]\n\nThe council seemed to have been aware of my opinion, for my new chamber\nwas in one of the turrets. The lower floor being occupied by the guard,\nthere could be no undermining; the smallness of the building laid all the\noperations of the fugitive open to the sentinel\u2019s eye, and the height was\nof itself an obstacle that, even if the bars were forced, might daunt\nthe adventurer. The steward followed me to my den, wringing his hands.\nYet the little apartment was not incommodious; there were some obvious\nattempts at rendering it a fitter place of habitation than usual, and a\nmore delicate frame than mine might have found indulgence in its carpets\nand cushions. Even my solitary hours were not forgotten, and some\nhandsome volumes from the governor\u2019s library occupied a corner. There was\na lyre, too, if I chose to sing my sorrows, and a gilded chest of wine if\nI chose to drink them away. The height was an inconvenience only to my\nescape, but a lover of landscape and fresh air would have envied me, for\nI had the range of the horizon and the benefit of every breeze from its\nfour quarters. A Chaldee would have chosen it for his commerce with the\nlights of heaven, for every star, from the gorgeous front of Aldebaran to\nthe minutest diamond spark of the sky, shone there in all its brightness.\nAnd a philosopher would have rejoiced in the secluded comfort of a spot\nwhich, in the officer\u2019s parting pleasantry, was in every sense \u201cso much\nabove the world.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LXI\n\n_A Steward\u2019s Narrative_\n\n\nTo me, the prison and the palace were the same. No believer in fate,\nand a strong believer in the doctrine that in the infinite majority of\ncases the unlucky have to thank only themselves, I was yet irresistibly\nconscious of my own stern exception. That there was an influence hanging\nover me I deeply knew; that I might as well strive with the winds was\nthe fruit of my whole experience; and with the loftiest calculation of\nthe wonders that human energy may work, I abandoned myself on principle\nto the chances of the hour. I was the weed upon the wave, and whether\nabove or below the surface, I knew that the wave would roll on, and that\nI must roll on along with it. I was the atom in the air, and whether I\nshould float unseen forever or be brought into sight by the gilding of\nsome chance sunbeam, my destiny was to float and quiver up and down. I\nwas the vapor, and whether, like the evening cloud, my after-years were\nto evolve into glorious shapes and colors, or I should creep along the\npools and valleys of fortune till the end of time\u2014yet there I was, still\nin existence, and that existence bound by laws incapable of the choice or\nthe caprices of man.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Burden]\n\nI had yet to learn the true burden of my great malediction, for the\ncircumstances of my life were adverse to its fated solitude of soul; its\nbitter conviction that there was not a being under the canopy of heaven\nwhose heart was toward me. I was still in the very tumult of life and\nbattling with the boldest. Public cares, personal interests, glowing\nattachments, the whole vigorous activity of the citizen and the soldier\nwere mine. I was still husband, father, friend, and champion; my task was\ndifficult and grave, but it was ardent, proud, and animating. I was made\nfor this energy of the whole man; master of a powerful frame that defied\nfatigue, and was proof against the sharpest visitations of nature; and\nof an intellect which, whatever might be its rank, rejoiced in tasking\nitself with labors that appalled the multitude.\n\nIdle as I knew the praise of man, and sovereign as was my scorn for\nthe meanness which stoops to the vulgar purchase of popularity, I felt\nand honored the true fame\u2014that renown whose statue is devoted, not by\nsuspicious and clamorous flattery of the time, but by the solemn and\nvoluntary homage of the future, whose splendor, like that of a new-born\nstar, if it take ages to reach mankind, is sure to reach them at last,\nand shines for ages after its fount is extinguished; whose essential\npower, if it be coerced and obscured, like that of a man while his\nearthly tenement still shuts him in, is thenceforth to develop itself\nfrom strength to strength\u2014the mortal putting on immortality.\n\n[Sidenote: The Fetters of a Soul]\n\nIn the whirl of such thoughts I was often carried away, to the utter\noblivion of my peculiar fate, for the man and his associations were\nstrong within me, in defiance of the command. The gloom often passed\naway from my soul, as the darkness does from the midnight ocean in the\ndash and foam of its own waters. Nature is perpetual and drives the\naffections, sleeping or waking, as it drives the blood through the old\nchannels. It was only at periods, produced by strong circumstance, that I\nfelt the fetter, but then the iron entered into my soul! To this partial\npressure belongs the singular combination of such a fate as mine with an\ninterest in the world, with my loves and hates, my thirst of human fame,\nmy reluctance at the prospect of the common ills and injuries of life. I\nwas a man, and this is the whole solution of the problem. For one remote\nevidence that I was distinct from mankind, I had ten thousand, direct and\nconstant, that I was the same. But for the partiality of the pressure\nthere was a lofty reason.\n\nThe man who feels himself above the common fate is instantly placed above\nthe common defenses of mankind. He may calumniate and ruin; he may burn\nand plunder; he may be the rebel and the murderer. Fear is, after all,\nthe great defense. But what earthly power could intimidate him? What\nwere chains or the scaffold to him who felt instinctively that time was\nnot made for his being; that the scaffold was impotent; that he should\nyet trample on the grave of his judge, on the moldered throne of his\nking, on the dead sovereignty of his nation? With his impassiveness, his\nexperience, his knowledge, and his passions, concocted and blackened by\nages, what breast could be safe against the dagger of this tremendous\nexile? What power be secure against the rebel machination or the open\nhostility of a being invested with the strength of immortal evil? What\nwas to hinder a man made familiar with every mode of influencing human\npassions\u2014the sage, the sorcerer, the fount of tradition, the friend of\ntheir worshiped ancestors\u2014from maddening the multitude at whose head he\nwilled to march, clothed in the attributes of almost a divinity?\n\nBut I was precluded or saved from this fearful career by the providential\nfeeling of the common repugnances, hopes, and fears of human nature. Pain\nand disease were instinctively as much shunned by me as if I held my life\non the frailest tenure; death was as formidable as my natural soldiership\nwould suffer it to be; and even when the thought occurred that I might\ndefy extinction, it threw but a darker shade over the common terrors, to\nconceive that I must undergo the suffering of death without the peace\nof the grave. Man bears his agony for once, and it is done. Mine might\nbe borne to the bitterest extremity, but must be borne with the keener\nbitterness of the knowledge that it was in vain.\n\n[Sidenote: A Message from Septimius]\n\nI was recalled from those reveries to the world by a paper dropped\nthrough a crevice in the rafters above my head. On seeing its signature,\n\u201cSeptimius,\u201d my first impulse was to tear it in pieces, but Esther\u2019s name\nstruck me, and I read it through.\n\n\u201cYou must not think me a villain, tho I confess appearances are much in\nfavor of the supposition. But I had no choice between denying that I\nknew you and being instantly beheaded. This comes of discipline. Titus\nis a disciplinarian of the first order, and the consequence is that no\nman dares acknowledge any little irregularity before him: so far, his\nmorality propagates knaves. But I must clear myself of the charge of\nhaving acted disingenuously by your daughter. I take every power that\nbinds the soul to witness that I know not what is become of her; nay, I\nam in the deepest anxiety to know the fate of one so lovely, so innocent,\nand so high-minded.\n\n[Sidenote: A Lover\u2019s Confession]\n\n\u201cAnd now, prince, that I am out of the reach of your frown, let me have\ncourage to disburden my heart. I have long known Esther, and as long\nloved her. From the time when I was first received within your palace in\nNaphtali\u2014and I have not forgotten that to your hospitality I then owed my\nlife\u2014I was struck with her talents and her beauty. When the war separated\nus and I returned to Rome, neither in Rome nor in the empire could I\nsee her equal. To solicit our union I gave up the honors and pleasures\nof the court for the campaign in your hazardous country. I searched\nJudea in vain, and it was chiefly in the vague hope of obtaining some\nintelligence of Esther that I solicited the command of our unfortunate\nmission. There I felt all hazard more than repaid by her sight, to me\nlovelier than ever. I will acknowledge that I prolonged my confinement to\nhave the opportunity of obtaining her hand. But her religious scruples\nwere unconquerable. I implored her leave to explain myself to you. Even\nthis, too, she refused, \u2018from her knowledge of your decision.\u2019 What\nthen was I to do? Loving to excess, bewildered by passion, oppressed\nwith disappointment, and seeing but one object on earth, my evil genius\nprompted me to act the dissembler.\n\n\u201cUnder pretext of disclosing some secrets connected with your safety\nI induced her to meet me, for the first and the last time, on the\nbattlements. There I besought her to fly with me\u2014to be my bride\u2014to enjoy\nthe illustrious rank and life that belonged to the imperial blood; and\nwhen we were once wedded, to solicit the approval of her family. I was\nsincere; I take the gods to witness I was sincere. But my entreaty was in\nvain; she repelled me with resolute scorn; she charged me with treachery\nto you, to her, to faith, and to sacred hospitality. I knelt to her\u2014she\nspurned me. In distraction, and knowing only that to live without her\nwas wretchedness, I was bearing her away to the gate when we were\nsurrounded by armed men. My single attendant fled; I was overpowered, and\nI saw Esther, my lovely and beloved Esther, no more.\u201d\n\nThere was an honesty in this full confession that did more for the\nwriter\u2019s cause than subtler language. The young Roman had been severely\ntried, and who could expect from a soldier the self-denial that it might\nhave been hard to find under the brow of philosophy? Stern as time and\ntrial had made me, I was not petrified into a contempt for the generous\nweaknesses of earlier years; and to love a being like Esther\u2014what was it\nbut to be just? While I honored the high sense of duty which repelled a\nlover so dangerous to a woman\u2019s heart, I pitied and forgave the violence\nof a passion lighted by unrivaled loveliness of form and mind.\n\nIt was growing late, and the steward, who made a virtue of showing me the\nmore respect the more I was treated with severity, came in to arrange my\ncouch for the night; he would suffer no inferior hands to approach the\nperson of one of the leaders of his fallen country.\n\n\u201cIn truth,\u201d said he, \u201cif I were not permitted to be your attendant\nto-night, my prince might have been forgotten, for every human being but\nmyself is busy in the banquet-gallery.\u201d\n\nSounds of instruments and voices arose.\n\n[Sidenote: Titus Gives a Banquet]\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said he, \u201cyou may hear the music. Titus gives a supper in honor\nof the Emperor\u2019s birthday, and the palace will be kept awake until\ndaylight, for the Romans, with all their gravity, are great lovers of the\ntable, and Titus is renowned for late sittings. Would you wish to see the\nbanquet?\u201d\n\nSo saying, he unbarred the shutters of a casement, commanding a view\nalong the gallery, of which every door and window was thrown open for the\nbreeze.\n\nIf an ancient Roman could start from his slumber into the midst of\nEuropean life, he must look with scorn on its absence of grace,\nelegance, and fancy. But it is in its festivities, and most of all in\nits banquets, that he would feel the incurable barbarism of the Gothic\nblood. Contrasted with the fine displays that made the table of the Roman\nnoble a picture and threw over the indulgence of appetite the colors of\nthe imagination, with what eyes must he contemplate the tasteless and\ncommonplace dress, the coarse attendants, the meager ornament, the want\nof mirth, music, and intellectual interest\u2014the whole heavy machinery that\nconverts the feast into the mere drudgery of devouring!\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Views the Scene]\n\nThe guests before me were fifty or sixty splendidly attired men, attended\nby a crowd of domestics equipped with scarcely less splendor, for no\nman thought of coming to the banquet in the robes of ordinary life.\nThe embroidered couch, itself a striking object, allowed the ease of\nposition, at once delightful in the relaxing climates of the south and\ncapable of combining with every grace of the human figure. At a slight\ndistance the table, loaded with plate, glittering under a profusion of\nlamps and surrounded by couches covered with rich draperies, was like\na central source of light radiating in broad shafts of every brilliant\nhue. All that belonged to the ornament of the board was superb. The\nwealth of the patricians and their perpetual intercourse with Greece made\nthem masters of the finest performances of the arts. The sums expended\non plate were enormous, but its taste and beauty were essential to the\nrefined enjoyment of the banquet. Copies of the most famous statues and\ngroups of sculpture in the precious metals, exquisite trophies of Greek\nand Roman victory, models of the celebrated temples, mingled with vases\nof flowers and burning perfumes; and covering and coloring all was a vast\nscarlet canopy, which combined the groups beneath the eye, and threw the\nwhole scene into the light that a painter would love.\n\nBut yet finer skill was shown in the constant prevention of that want\nof topic which turns conversation into weariness. There was a rapid\nsuccession of new excitements. Even the common changes of the table were\nmade to assist this purpose. The entrance of each course was announced\nby music, and the attendants were preceded by a procession of minstrels,\nchaplet-crowned, and playing Grecian melodies. Between the courses a\nstill higher entertainment was offered in the recitations, dramas, and\npleasantries, read or acted by a class of professional satirists, of the\nabsurdities of the day.\n\n[Sidenote: The Amusements of a Feast]\n\nIt is easy to imagine how fertile a source of interest this must have\nbeen made by the subtle and splenetic Italian moving through Roman life;\nthe most various, animating, and fantastic scene in which society ever\nshone. The recitations were always looked to as the charm of the feast.\nThey were often severe, but their severity was reserved for public men\nand matters. The court supplied the most tempting and popular ridicule,\nbut the reciter was a privileged person, and all the better-humored\nC\u00e6sars bore the castigation without a murmur. No man in the empire was\nmore laughed at than Vespasian, and no man oftener joined in the laugh.\n\nOne of this morning\u2019s sports was to collect the burlesques of the night\nbefore, give them new pungency by a touch of the imperial pen, and then\ndespatch them to make their way through the world. The strong-headed\nsovereign knew the value of an organ of public opinion, and used to call\ntheir perusal, \u201csitting for his picture.\u201d The picture was sometimes so\nstrong that the courtiers trembled. But the veteran, who had borne thirty\nyears of battle, laid it up among \u201chis portraits,\u201d laughed the insult\naway, and repeated his popular saying, \u201cthat when he was old enough to\ncome to years of discretion and give up the emperor, he should become\nreciter himself and have his turn with the world.\u201d\n\nThe recitations again were varied by a sportive lottery, in which the\nguests drew prizes\u2014sometimes of value, gems and plate\u2014sometimes merely an\nepigram, or a caricature. The banquet generally closed with a theatric\ndance by the chief public performers of the day, and the finest forms\nand the most delicate art of Greece and Ionia displayed the story of\nTheseus and Ariadne, the flight of Jason, the fate of Semele, or some\nother of their brilliant fictions. In the presence of this vivid display\nsat, tempering its sportiveness by the majesty of religion, the three\ngreat tutelar idols of Rome\u2014Jove, Juno, and Minerva, of colossal height,\nthroned at the head of the hall; completing, false as they were, the most\nsingular and dazzling combination that man ever saw, of the delight of\nthe senses with the delight of the mind.\n\nTo me human delight was always a source of enjoyment, and in the sounds\nof the harps and flutes and the pleasant murmur of cheerful voices I was\nnot unwilling to forget the spot from which I listened. But the prisoner\ncan not long forget his cell, and closing the casement I walked away.\n\n[Sidenote: The Steward Tells of Matthan]\n\n\u201cLittle I ever thought,\u201d sighed the old steward, \u201cof seeing that sight.\nBut all nations have fallen in their time, and perhaps the only wonder is\nthat Israel should have stood so long. It is still stranger to my eyes\nto see that gallery as it is to-night. It is fifteen years this very day\nsince I saw the light of lamp or the foot of man within those casements.\u201d\n\n\u201cYet,\u201d said I, \u201cthe great Ananus lived as became his rank, and there were\nthen no dangers to disturb him in the midst of his people.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there was one terrible event which made those walls unhallowed; nay,\neven in this spot I would not remain alone through the night to have the\npalace for my own.\u201d\n\nA rich strain of music that ushered in some change in the displays of the\nbanquet interrupted my question, while the old man\u2019s countenance assumed\nsomething of the alarm which he described.\n\n\u201cThat sound,\u201d said he, shuddering, \u201cgoes to my heart. It is the same that\nI heard on the night of death. On that night Matthan, the only son of my\ngreat master, was to be wedded to the daughter of the prince of Hebron,\nand that gallery was laid out for the wedding-feast. All the leaders of\nJerusalem were there, all the noble women, all the chief priesthood;\nall the grandeur, wealth, and beauty of our tribe. But Matthan was not\nthe son of his father\u2019s mind. He had fled from his father\u2019s roof years\nbefore, and taken refuge in the mountains. The caravan passing through\nGalilee dreaded the name of Matthan, for he was bold; the chief of the\nhills saw his followers flying from his side, for deadly was the spear\nof Matthan; but he was generous, and often the slave rejoiced in the\nbreaking of his chains, and the peasant saw his flocks cover the valley\nagain by the arm and the bounty of Matthan.\n\n[Sidenote: A Countenance of Wrath and Wo]\n\n\u201cI saw him on the day when he returned; danger or sorrow had wrought a\nchange in him like the passing from youth to age. His strength was gone,\nand his voice was broken, like the voice of him that treads on the\nbrink of the timely grave. His noble father wept over him, but gave him\nwelcome; and the palace was filled with rejoicing for the coming back\nof the first-born. Yet he took no delight in the feast, neither in the\npraises of men nor in the voice of the singer. He wandered through his\nfather\u2019s halls, even as the leopard, chained and longing to escape to\nthe desert and the prey again. Disturbances were beginning to be heard\nin Jerusalem, and he fell into the hands of the evil one. Onias, the man\nof blood, betrayed him into the secret ways of conspiracy against our\nconquerors. His heart was bold and his temper high, and he was easily\ndrawn into the desperate game by a villain who stirred up the generous\nspirit of our nobles, only to sell their blood to Rome.\n\n\u201cHe grew more lonely day by day; withdrew from the amusements of his\nrank, and shut himself up in the wing of the palace, ending in this\ntower. In this room I have seen his lamp burning through the livelong\nwinter nights, and grieved over the sleeplessness that showed he was\namong the unhappy.\n\n[Sidenote: The Strangeness of a Bridegroom]\n\n\u201cAt last a change was wrought upon him. He went forth; he took delight\nin the horse and the chariot, in the chase, and the feast, and the die.\nHis father, that he might bless his posterity before he died, counseled\nhim to take to wife Thamar, the noblest of the daughters of Hebron. The\nday of the marriage was appointed. On that day I saw him come from the\ncouncil-hall, after receiving the congratulations of his friends. I saw\nhim passing along to his chamber, but I dared not cross him on his way.\nHe thought that he was alone, and then he gave way to his agony. Never\ndid I behold such a countenance of wrath and wo. It was bloated with\nprodigal living, and it was now flushed with wine. He raved, he rent\nhis bridal raiment and cast it from him; he wept; he knelt and cursed\nthe hour he was born. I remained in my refuge, yet more in fear of his\ncountenance than of his sword. He took letters from his bosom, read them,\nand then scattered their fragments in the air. He tottered toward me, and\nI dreaded his rage, but I saw at a glance that his mind was gone. He was\ntalking to the air; he clasped his hands wildly; his face was covered\nwith tears; he implored for mercy, and fell. I hastened to bear him to\na couch; he saw me not, but cried out against himself as a betrayer and\na murderer, the fugitive from honor, the criminal marked by the hand of\nHeaven.\n\n\u201cI called for help. His mountaineers rushed in; they repulsed me; and\nchiding him in their barbarian tongue, and seeming accustomed to those\nfits of sorrow, carried away in their arms the noble Matthan, crying like\na child.\n\n\u201cThe evening fell, and I saw him ride forth at the head of his kindred to\nbring home the bride. The wretchedness of the day had passed, and those\nwho looked only on the lofty bearing and heard the joyous language of the\nleader of that train would have thought that sorrow had never touched his\nheart. I watched for his return with anxiety, for I deemed him unhallowed.\n\n[Sidenote: The Coming of a Bride]\n\n\u201cBut all was well; the bridal train returned. Matthan, glittering in\njewels, came proudly, reining a steed white as the snow. The harp and\ntrumpet, the chorus of the singers, the light of the torches, and the\nglitter of the youths and maidens who danced before the bride made me\nforget everything but the joy of seeing peace among us once more. But at\nthe banquet the wonder of all was the bridegroom himself. Loud as the\nguests\u2019 voices were, his voice was the loudest; he laughed at everything,\nas if he had never known a care in the world, or was never to know one\nagain. The jest was never out of his lips; and when he pledged the cup\nto the health of the company or the fair bride\u2014and often he pledged it\nthat evening\u2014he always said something that raised shouts of applause. I\nonce or twice passed near him, but he had wiped every sign of grief from\nhis features, and if he seemed to be mad with anything, it was with joy.\nThe gallery rang with admiration, and not less with surprise, for he had\nshut himself up so long from the people that he was almost unknown, and\nthe world is generally good-natured enough to invent a character for\nthose who will take no trouble to make one for themselves. Some had set\nhim down for intolerable haughtiness; others for fear of mixing in the\ngrowing tumults; others for a dealer in the black arts; and still others\nfor a mere fool. But now opinions were altered, and every voice of his\ntribe was loud in wonder at the talents he had so long hid in retirement.\n\n\u201cI was standing in the train of the High Priest, near the central\ncasement, through which you may now see the throne of Titus. My eyes,\nI know not why, strayed to this tower; I marked a feeble lamp, a form\nrushing backward and forward in gestures of violent sorrow. A foot beside\nme made me turn. There stood Matthan with his eyes fixed upon the tower.\nBut his mind was gone. He looked like a man stricken into stone. He saw\nme not; he saw not the guests; he saw nothing but the feeble lamp, the\nhurrying form.\n\n\u201cThe chorus of the singing women announced that the bride was about to\ncome. I looked up at the tower; the lamp was twinkling its last, and the\nform was still seen wringing its hands. The hymn began that denotes the\nveiling of the bride; but my eyes were fixed on the dying light and the\nform, which now held a cup in its hand. A shriek was heard, so wild that\nthe guests sprang from their seats in alarm and astonishment. My eye\nturned upon Matthan, but he had summoned up his strength, and tho I saw\nhim shake in every limb, his proud lip wore a smile.\n\n\u201cClasping his hand upon his brow, he abruptly turned from the window and\ndemanded why the bridal attendants delayed the coming of the princess\nof Hebron. The lamp had now disappeared, and the tower was in darkness\nagain. The portals were at length thrown open and the bride was led up to\nthe canopy beneath which the bridegroom stood. He raised the veil. His\ncountenance was instantly transformed into horror. He uttered no cry, but\nstood gazing. The bride let fall the veil again, and taking his hand, led\nhim slowly and without a word down the hall.\n\n[Sidenote: Matthan\u2019s Death]\n\n\u201cNone checked this strange ceremony; none dared to check it. We were\ndeprived of all power by astonishment. The High Priest himself stood\nwith his venerable hands lifted up to heaven, as if he felt that evil\nwas come upon his house. The wedded pair walked in silence through the\nlong range of chambers to the tower, and as they passed, the numberless\nattendants felt themselves bound by mysterious awe. But our senses at\nlength returned, and Ananus, in the full dread of misfortune, yet bold\nto his dying hour, suffered none to go before him. We found the door of\nthe tower barred, and long summoned Matthan to come forth and relieve our\nfears lest some desperate invention of sorcery had been played upon him.\nNo answer was returned, and we forced the door.\n\n\u201cWhat a sight was there! Two corpses lay side by side. The blood still\ntrickled from the bosom of the unfortunate Matthan. I raised the veil\nof the bride; the hue of poison was upon the lips, but they were not\nthe lips of the princess of Hebron. The countenance was Arabian, and of\nexceeding beauty, but wan and wasted by sorrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho, then, was his strange companion in the hall?\u201d I asked.\n\nThe answer was given with a shudder. \u201cI know not, but it seemed scarcely\na being of this world. A new confusion arose. The mountaineers, on\nhearing of the death of their lord and still more of that noble creature\nin whom they honored the race of their chieftains, demanded vengeance:\nthey were too fierce to listen to reason, and our attempts to explain the\nunhappy truth only kindled their rage. Simitars were drawn, blood was\nshed, and tho the barbarians were repelled, yet they plundered the wing\nof the palace and bore off the infant offspring of their dead mistress,\nthe last scion of an illustrious tree that was itself so soon to feel the\nax.\n\n\u201cI saw the unfortunate and guilty Matthan laid in the sepulcher of his\nfathers\u2014the last that ever slept there, for his great sire, worthy of\nbeing laid in the monument of kings, was denied the honors of the grave\nby his murderers. Yet he sleeps in the noblest of all graves; his memory\nis treasured in the love and sorrows of his country.\n\n[Sidenote: The Arabian Stranger]\n\n\u201cIt was discovered that Matthan, during his wanderings in the desert,\nhad wedded the daughter of a sheik. He loved her with the violence of\nhis nature, but the prospects which opened to him on his return to his\ncountry made him shrink from the acknowledgment of his Arabian bride.\nYet to live without her he found impossible, and he brought her to the\ntower. Surrounded by his mountaineers, this portion of the palace was\ninaccessible. His solitude and the lights seen through the casements\nwere often thought to imply studies of the strange philosophy or evil\nsuperstitions that had begun to infect the noble youth of Palestine.\n\n\u201cBut the necessity of sustaining his ambition by an illustrious marriage\ndrove his fickle heart at last to treachery. The Arabian knew the\nintended marriage, and pined away before his eyes. Remorse and ambition\nalternately distracted him. The bridal procession was seen by the unhappy\nwife, and she swallowed poison. The rest is beyond my power to account\nfor. But it is rumored among the attendants that strange sights have\nsince been seen and sounds of a bridal throng heard in the chambers\nthrough which their last melancholy procession was made; tho, whether it\nbe truth or the common fear of the peasantry, I know not, nor indeed wish\ntoo curiously to inquire.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LXII\n\n_A Prisoner in the Tower_\n\n\n[Sidenote: Confusion among Guests]\n\nAs the old man spoke, sounds arose not unsuited to his tale. But my faith\nin the legend did not amount to so sudden a realization, and I looked\ntoward the banquet. There, from whatever motive, everything was in sudden\ndisturbance. The guests were hurrying from the tables. Many had thrown\nthe military cloak over their festal robes; some were in the adjoining\napartments hastily equipping themselves with arms and armor. A group was\nstanding round Titus, evidently in anxious consultation. In the spacious\ngrounds below, horsemen were mounting and attendants hurrying in all\ndirections. The calls of the clarion echoed through the courts; shortly\nafter a large body of cavalry came wheeling round to the portal of the\ngardens, and Titus went forth, conspicuous among the bustling crowd\nfor his manly composure. He gave some orders which were despatched by\ntribunes galloping as for their lives; then mounting his charger, rode\nslowly through the gates at the head of his stately company, himself the\nmost stately of them all.\n\nThe woods surrounding the palace soon intercepted the view of the\nimperial troop; and after straining my eyes as long as I could see the\nglitter of a helmet by the waning moon, I turned to my casement to make\nthat prayer for the peace of Jerusalem which had been nightly on my\nlips from the hour when they first could pronounce the name. From the\ndungeon has that supplication risen; from the mine; from the sands of the\nwilderness; from the shores of the farthest ocean; from the bosom of the\nrolling waters; from the fires of the persecutor; from the field before\nthe battle; from the field covered with its dead; from the living grave\nof the monk; from the cavern of the robber; from the palace; even from\nthe scaffold!\n\n[Sidenote: The Red Illumination]\n\nWhile I continued in this outpouring of the soul, with my eyes fixed\non the cloudy world above, a pale reflection spread over the masses of\nrolling vapor; it lingered, faded, and night covered the earth; suddenly\na fierce luster turned the low and heavy clouds into the color of\nconflagration.\n\n\u201cThere is an attack on either the enemy\u2019s camp or the city,\u201d I exclaimed\nto my companion. \u201cDaybreak it can not be, for the middle watch has not\nbeen half an hour sounded. Help me to escape; be but my guide through the\nchambers, and name your recompense.\u201d\n\nThe steward wrung his helpless hands, and offered his life to my service,\nbut described the precautions of my jailers so fully that I gave up the\nidea. Still I was tossed by anxious thoughts. I heard the treading of the\nguard until its recurrence irritated me. The moanings of the wind through\nthe trees told that a storm was rising, and to get rid of the uneasy\nconflict between the desire of sleep and the difficulty of shutting out\nthought, I rose and watched the progress of the tempest.\n\nThe lightnings flashed in broad beams through the clouds, and the rain\nfell with the violence of the southern storm. But through the flash,\ndeepening again, shone the red illumination above the city, and neither\nthe roar of the wind nor the dash of the descending deluge could\nextinguish the shouts that, remote as they were, I knew to be shouts\nof battle. I measured the tower with my eye; I tried the strength of\nthe bars; but the attempt only served to disturb my companion, who had\nsurvived his sorrows long enough to sleep as soundly as if there were not\na wo on earth.\n\n\u201cI am glad,\u201d said he, \u201cthat you awoke me, for I was dreaming the story of\nmy unfortunate lord and his son over again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe natural result of your having so lately renewed its recollection.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTitus rode at the head of his stately company, himself\nthe most stately of them all.\u201d\n\n[_see page 487._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: A Figure in the Gallery]\n\n\u201cAye, there is perhaps scarcely a room under the palace roof where some\nheart is not trembling to-night with ghostly fear, nor a peasant\u2019s\nthatch where the death of Matthan and the Arabian has not made pale\nfaces; and where men tell of the bridegroom stricken in his hour of\npride. But\u2014\u2014 powers of Heaven preserve us! look there!\u201d\n\nI looked, but it was to the old man, whose countenance alarmed me with\nthe idea that he had wrought his imagination to a hazardous extreme. I\ntook his cold hand, and telling him that I felt unable to sleep, gently\nlaid his stiffened limbs on the couch and bade him try to rest. But his\neye stared through the casement till I followed its direction, yet with\nonly the added belief that he was overcome by the common terrors of the\nhousehold; for to me tenfold darkness lay upon every object from the\nground to the battlements.\n\nI accidentally glanced at the gallery, and there I saw a figure, slight\nand shadowy, passing backward and forward in front of a quivering lamp!\nMy surprise was more startling than I would venture to communicate to my\ncompanion, already almost paralyzed with fear. But if I had conjured up\na phantom to give force to the tale, none could have been more closely\nsimilar. The figure was enveloped in robes whose richness I could\nperceive even across the court; the gestures, the wild hurry of the\npacings through the chamber, the general air of wo and distraction, were\nnot to be mistaken. In the midst of the silence I heard the creaking of\nbolts and the fall of chains that seemed to be at my side. A single word\nfollowed, but that word was terribly comprehensive\u2014\u201cDeath!\u201d The sound was\nuttered in a sepulchral tone, that left the imagination free to shape the\npicture with what sullenness it willed!\n\nBut the sound was scarcely uttered when I heard a shriek, wild as ever\ntold of wo; saw the figure sink down, and the lamp quiver and expire!\nThe old man had seen what I had seen, but the natural feebleness of age\nleft him a mere helpless prey to superstitious fear, and no attempt to\nexplain these singular coincidences could calm him. He was convinced that\nthe vengeance that had stricken his master\u2019s house was still abroad, and\nthat he had beheld its minister. Remonstrance was in vain, and he sank\nalternately into reveries and the stupefaction of spiritual terror.\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi, the Specter]\n\nI tended him with the more interest from my being not altogether\nunimpressed with the possibility that his alarms were just. I was no\nbeliever in the vulgar narratives of superstition. But nature has her\nmysteries!\n\nWhile I sat beside the couch and watched the ebb and flow of life in a\nframe that I sometimes expected to see utterly give way, a jarring of\nbolts again struck my ear. I listened with a strange emotion. The old man\nhad heard it, and in a new convulsion grasped both my hands and held me\nclose. The sound returned; it increased; I saw the wall of the tower open\nand the figure stand before me.\n\n\u201cIt is she; it is she!\u201d shudderingly murmured my companion, fixing his\neyes on it and holding me with the clasp of agony.\n\nThe heart beat loud within me; but I interposed myself between the\ncorpse-like being whom I held in my arms and the unearthly visitant, and\ndemanded \u201cfor what purpose it had come.\u201d The figure started as I spoke;\nthen gazing intently on me as I turned to the light, threw the mantle\nfrom its forehead and fell at my feet. The lovely Naomi was the specter!\nYet perfectly guiltless of the ghostly potency of her presence and the\nunfilial alarm into which she had thrown her adopted father, whom she was\ndelighted to find, but whom she candidly acknowledged \u201cshe never dreamed\nof finding there.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe tower contains a prisoner,\u201d said she tremblingly, \u201cwho must be saved\nthis night, for to-morrow at daybreak is his dreadful hour. I knew that\nhe would be condemned, and we agreed on a signal, by which I was to learn\nwhen the time was fixed. I have watched all night for it, and almost\nbetrayed myself by a cry of horror that I could not suppress at the sight\nof that signal just now. I had no resource but to bear my own message,\nand assist him myself in escaping from this place of sorrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my child, who is the prisoner, or where is he?\u201d\n\nShe blushed and said: \u201cOne who saved me when the world was against me. He\nrescued me from the hands of barbarians\u2014and could I leave him to perish?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Finds a Prisoner]\n\n\u201cLead on then, and without delay, for daybreak is not far. But how shall\nwe find our way to his dungeon?\u201d\n\n\u201cI paid high,\u201d said she, \u201cfor my knowledge of this tower, and it has no\nconcealments from me. Remove this bar.\u201d\n\nI drew out a slender iron rod; a door deep in the wall gave way and\ndisclosed a winding stair, by which we descended. We found the prisoner\nwriting, and so earnestly occupied that our footsteps did not interrupt\nhim.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d soliloquized he as he ran his eye down the epistle. \u201cI think, my\nmasters if not the better, some of you will be the wiser for my labors.\nHome truths are the truths, after all. Titus will learn what a set of\nincurable reprobates he has about him, and by this time to-morrow, when\nI shall care as little for mankind as mankind ever cared for me, I shall\ndo the state service; from my gibbet turn reformer and make the scaffold\npopular. And now, for the farewell to my lady and my love.\u201d\n\nHe sighed and threw down the pen.\n\n\u201cNo, my Naomi, I can say nothing half so fond or half so bitter as my\nfeelings would have me say at this moment. Would that I had never seen\nyou, if we are to part so soon. Yet why should I regret to have known\ninnocence and beauty in their perfection? No, my love, rosy was the hour\nwhen I first saw you, and proud is even the parting hour that tells me I\ncould have loved so noble a being\u2014but all is better as it is. How could\nI have borne to see you following the fortunes of a wanderer, of a man\nwithout a country or a name? Then farewell, my Naomi dearest, farewell;\nyou were the gleam of sunshine in my cloudy day, the star in my dreary\nnight, and while my heart beats you shall be there. Your name shall be\nthe last upon my lips, and if there be thought beyond the grave, you\nshall be remembered, and\u2014oh, how deeply\u2014loved!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Arab Captain Recognized]\n\nI had been on the point of disturbing his meditation, but Naomi, with the\nfine avarice of passion, would not lose a syllable. She held me back, and\nimplored me by her countenance to let her have the full confession of her\nlover\u2019s faith. That beautiful countenance ran through all the shades of\nfeeling, and was covered with blushes and tears while the unconscious\nworshiper poured out his devotion. But the time was flying; I insisted on\ninterrupting this epicureanism of the soul; and when Naomi found that she\nmust hear no more, she would allow none but herself the pleasure of the\nsurprise. A sigh which swelled from the prisoner\u2019s heart was echoed. He\nturned suddenly, and pronounced her name with a loudness of delight that\nnothing but the chance that protects the imprudent could have prevented\nfrom bringing the guard upon us. His quick eye soon caught me where I\nstood in shadow, and he sprang forward to overpower the intruder. But\nthe lamp saved us from the encounter, and lifting his hands and eyes in\namazement, he laughed as loudly as he had spoken.\n\n\u201cIn the name of all the wonders of the world,\u201d exclaimed he, \u201care you\nhere too? Where are we to meet next? We have met already in water, fire,\nand earth, and nothing is left for us now but the clouds. Come, be\nhonest, prince, and tell me whether it was not for the sake of some such\nexperiment that you ventured here; for if another hour finds us within\nthese four walls, we shall know the grand secret as assuredly as Titus\nwears a head and has a traitor at his elbow.\u201d\n\nIt was the Arab captain! I was rejoiced to find that in attempting to\nsave the life of Naomi\u2019s lover, I was discharging a debt to the preserver\nof my own. To my mention of this service he replied with soldierlike\nfrankness that \u201cI owed him no obligation whatever; he had long hated the\nintolerable cruelty of Cestius, and the debt was on his side, as I had\nindulged him with an opportunity that every officer in the service would\nhave been happy to use.\u201d\n\nNaomi hung upon me, pale, and anxiously listening to every sound abroad.\n\n\u201cThis little trembler,\u201d said he sportively, as he took her passive hand,\n\u201cI am destined to meet always in alarm. I first found her flying from a\ntroop of human brutes who were robbing the baggage of the Roman camp; I\nthought her worth something better than to keep goats on the Libanus and\nweave turbans for some Syrian deserter; she was of the same opinion, and\nfell in love with me on the spot.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Attempts to Escape]\n\nNaomi exclaimed against this version of the story.\n\n\u201cNo matter for the mode,\u201d said he; \u201cI give the facts. I dazzled her\nambition by the promise of a palace\u2014in the air; bribed her avarice by the\ndisplay of a purse unconscious of gold; and bewitched her senses by a\nspeech, a smile, and a figure that for the first time in my life I found\nto be irresistible.\u201d\n\nNaomi again protested, and the dialog might have consumed half the night\nwithout their discovering the lapse of time, had I not interposed and\ninquired what further means of escape were in our power. The lovely girl\nstarted from her waking dream and pointed to a ring in the wall. I tried\nit, but it resisted my force. At length we all strove at it together. But\nno door opened. Naomi wrung her hands.\n\n\u201cThe unfortunate lord of this tower in former times,\u201d said she, and the\ntears stood in her eyes, \u201calways predicted that it would be fatal to his\nfamily. To escape his own fate, he pierced its walls with passages in\nevery direction, but they did not save my noble, my unfortunate father.\u201d\n\nShe sat down weeping while I tore at the ring, which finally broke off in\nmy hands. The lover stood with folded arms, gazing in sad delight on the\nbeautiful being from whom he was so soon to part forever, and whose face\nand form wore almost the shadowy loveliness of a vision.\n\nThe chance of their escape now devolved on me solely, for neither\nwould have desired to disturb that strange and melancholy luxury of\ncontemplation. But as the concealed door must be given up, the only\nresource was to return to my cell and thence make our way through the\npassage by which Naomi had arrived. A glance from the casement showed me\nthe court filled with soldiery and lights moving through the palace. This\nhope was gone!\n\nIn the deepest doubt and fear I ventured up through the tower to discover\nwhether my cell was not already in possession of the guard. I pushed back\nthe door noiselessly; the cell was empty; even the old steward was gone.\nImagination is a dangerous auxiliary in such a crisis, and it created\nout of this trivial change a host of alarms. He must have fled to give\nnotice of my retreat, or to rouse the vigilance of the soldiery by the\nstories of the wonders that he had seen. Escape was hopeless. I even\nheard a confused whispering, which proved that we had fallen into the\nsnare.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Discovers a Door]\n\nThere was now no alternative but to be seized and die, or to make a bold\nrush for life and take our chances. I carried the fainting Naomi up the\nstairs; and suppressing the infinite risk of the attempt to penetrate\nthrough a building in which its inmates were still awake and busy, and\nwhich was guarded by the vigilance of Roman patrols, I advised that we\nshould do anything rather than remain where we were. She was timid and\nsubmissive; but to my surprise the bold seaman, the haughty leader of\nmen, harder to be ruled than the elements, the gallant despiser of death\nbut a day past, was now totally unnerved. The novelty of passion absorbed\nthe spirit of the man; he lingered near his mistress, and gazed on her\nwith an intenseness that told his world was there. To my questions he\ngave no answer, but obeyed without a word, or a glance turned from the\nexquisite countenance that sank and blushed under his gaze. If the actual\npower of enchantment had been wrought upon him, he could not have been\nmore fixed, helpless, and charmed.\n\n[Sidenote: Naomi Causes Consternation]\n\nI heard the voice of pain, and thought of the ancient follower of the\nhouse of Ananus. My cooler judgment had acquitted him of betraying me\ninto the enemy\u2019s hands. A part of the cell was filled up with remnants\nof a canopy removed from the statelier apartments. The groan came from\nbehind them. I flung them away, and saw a door open by which he must\nhave entered. I returned, desired the captain and Naomi to follow,\nwrapped myself in a cloak, and sword in hand, led the way through the\ndarkness. I had not gone far when I found myself treading on a human\nbody. I sprang back, but the figure, more startled than I, rolled down a\nsuccession of steps before me, and falling against a door, burst it open.\nA strong light from within flashed up the stairs, and taking Naomi\u2019s\nhand, I led her down this steep and narrow outlet of the grand gallery.\nAs she came toward the light, a wild cry was given; a man rushed back,\nand exclaiming, \u201cIt is she risen from the grave, the Arabian!\u201d darted\nthrough the vast hall, in which were still a number of domestics setting\nit in order after the banquet. Every eye instantly turned to the spot\nfrom which we emerged. Naomi\u2019s white-robed form, followed by her lover\u2019s\nand mine wrapped to the brow in our dark mantles, formidably verified the\nsuperstition.\n\nThe crowd were already prepared to witness a wonder on this night of wo;\nthey fled or fell on their faces. The man, still rushing on, propagated\nterror before us; and through the long vista of lighted chambers, where\nto be seen might have been ruin, we moved unquestioned until we reached\nthe portal. It, too, had been thrown open by some of the fugitives; the\ngardens were deserted; the troops had been drawn to another quarter of\nthe palace. Before us was welcome solitude, and we were soon winding\nthrough the wood-paths by the light of the stars.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LXIII\n\n_A Minstrel\u2019s Power of Speech_\n\n\n[Sidenote: The Flight]\n\nWhile we traversed the grounds, the heaving of the branches under the\nwind, which rose in strong gusts from time to time, and the rush of the\nrivulets from the hillsides, which retained the swell of the melting\nsnows, prevented our hearing other sounds; but when we emerged from this\nlittle forest of every plant that yields fruit or fragrance and began to\nclimb the surrounding ridge, the sights and sounds to which I had been so\nlong accustomed broke upon us. To the south a long line of light showed\nwhere Jerusalem was struggling against a midnight assault, and the uproar\nof battle came wildly on the wind. The Roman camp-fires blazed round\nthe promontory Scopas, like the innumerable crevices of a huge volcanic\nhill breathing flame from root to summit. But a more immediate peril lay\nbehind us. The first height from which we could see the palace showed us\nthe well-known fire-signals of the enemy flaming on its battlements. Our\nescape had been discovered. The signals were answered from every point of\nthe horizon. Where a signal was, there was an enemy\u2019s post; we could not\nadvance a step without the most imminent chance of seizure, and in those\ntimes, death by the shaft or the sword was the instant consequence. The\nsignals were followed by the trumpet, and every blast from the palace\nroof was answered for miles round.\n\nThe whole horizon was alive with enemies, and yet, if in every call\ncaptivity and death had not been the language, this circling echo of the\nnoblest of all instruments of sound, coming in a thousand various tones\nfrom the varied distances, softened by the dewy softness of the night,\nand breathing from sources invisible, as if they were inspired only by\nthe winds, or poured from the clouds, might have seemed sublime.\n\n[Sidenote: Tracked by Bloodhounds]\n\nBut a new alarm rose in the direction of the forest, which now lay\nbeneath us like a sea slightly silvered on its thousand billows by the\nsinking moon. The trampling of cavalry was distinctly heard in pursuit,\nand torches were seen rushing through the trees. The pursuit had turned\ninto the very path by which we came, and the baying of a bloodhound\nup the ridge was guiding the cavalry to our inevitable capture if we\nremained. I was resolved not to be taken while I could fight or fly, and\npointing out to my fellow fugitives the horsemen, as they scoured the\nfoot of the hills, I plunged down into a ravine, where I could expect\nto find only some torrent too deep for us to pass. But it was at least\nprotracted fate.\n\nI had given Naomi into the hands of her lover, and while they slowly\ndescended the precipice, returned to its edge to ascertain whether\nthe enemy were still upon our steps. The rock toward the summit was\nsplintered into a number of little pinnacles, grasping one of which, I\nclung, listening and gazing with indescribable nervousness. The sounds of\npursuit had perished, or were so mingled with the common sounds of nature\nas to be unheard, and I was congratulating myself upon our total safety,\nand about to return to the spot where I had left my companions, when the\ntorch-light shot up from the dell, immediately below me. I gave a hurried\nglance along the ravine, but Naomi was not there. A detachment of archers\nwas climbing over the huge rocks that filled up its depth, and flashing\ntorches through every hollow where a human being could lie.\n\nTo rescue my unfortunate charge was my first resolve, and I began to let\nmyself down the abrupt side of the hollow before the torches disappeared.\nThey at last seemed to be completely gone, but as I hung within a few\nfeet of the path, a growl and a dash at my throat nearly overthrew my\nsteadiness. I knew that a precipice of immense depth lay underneath, and\nin the utter darkness I could have no certainty that my next step might\nnot carry me over it.\n\n[Sidenote: Victims of the Cross]\n\nMy sole expedient was to grasp the rock with one hand and defend myself\nto the last with the other. The bloodhound had tracked me, and he flew\nagain at my throat; but I was now prepared; I caught him in the bound\nand whirled him down the ravine. His howl, as he fell from crag to\ncrag, betrayed me at once. A hundred torches rushed upward. I climbed\nthe pinnacle, sprang from its top into a pine thicket, and winding over\na long extent of broken ground, gradually lost torches and outcries\ntogether.\n\nAfter a pause, to consider in what quarter final escape was most\nprobable, a glimmering light through the thicket at a considerable\ndistance toward the city determined me. My pursuers must be far behind;\nthe loss of the bloodhound diminished still more their chance of reaching\nmy track through a remarkably wild and broken district; and come what\nwould, whether that light was kindled by friends or enemies, I should see\nthem before they could discover me. I struggled on until I reached the\nbase of a ridge, on whose farther side the light gleamed. To ascend it\nwas beyond my powers, but by gliding along the base I found a crevice,\nwhich, enlarged whether by nature or the human hand, led through the\nhill. My way in darkness was brief; I had not gone a third of the\ndistance when the light shone strongly through the cavern. At its mouth I\nstood overwhelmed\u2014I had strayed into the memorable valley of the Crosses!\n\nThousands of men, besmeared with blood, dust, and clay, half naked,\nbrandishing weapons still dripping with gore; whirling torches; shouting\nout roars of triumph; howling in desperate lamentation; kneeling and\nweeping over the dead with the most violent affliction; wrapping\nthemselves in robes and armor; tearing away their raiment, and flinging\nsword and spear into the flames; throwing hundreds of corpses into one\npromiscuous burning, round which they danced with furious exultation;\ncarrying away on litters of lances and branches, corpses that they\nseemed to hallow as more than mortal; every strange variety of human\npassion, wound up to its wildest height, was pictured before me, and all\nwas thrown into the most living distinctness by the blaze of an immense\ncentral heap of timber.\n\n[Sidenote: The Last of the Conflict]\n\nThe horrid cruelties of the execution had been heard of in Jerusalem, and\nthe spirit of the people was roused to vengeance. With that imperishable\ncourage which distinguished them above all nations, a scorn of hazard\nthat in those unhappy days only urged them to their ruin, they determined\nto make the enemy pay in slaughter for the memory of their warriors. A\nmultitude without a leader, but among whom served with the simple spear\nmany a leader, poured out from the gates to attack an enemy flushed with\nvictory, and secured in entrenchments, impregnable to the naked strength\nof my unfortunate countrymen. They divided into two armies, one of\nwhich assaulted the lines, while the other marched to the valley of the\nCrosses. The assault on the lines was repelled after long and desperate\ndisplays of intrepidity. It was the intelligence of this attack that had\nbroken up the banquet. The Romans sustained heavy losses in the early\npart of the night; their outposts in the plain were sacrificed, and the\nchief part of their cantonments burned.\n\nBut the \u201carmy of vengeance,\u201d a name given to it alike by Jew and Roman,\naccomplished its purpose with dreadful retribution. The legionaries\nposted to defend the valley were trampled down and destroyed at the\nfirst charge. Troop on troop, sent to extricate them, met with the same\nfate. One of the few prisoners described the valley, when his cohort\nreached its verge, as having the look of a living whirlpool, a vast and\ntempestuous rolling and heaving of infuriate life, into which the attempt\nto descend was instant destruction.\n\n\u201cEvery cohort that entered it,\u201d said the centurion, \u201cwas instantly\nengulfed and seen no more. Last night our legion, the fifteenth, lay down\nin their tents five thousand strong; to-night there are not ten of us on\nthe face of the earth.\u201d\n\nThe conflict was long, and the last of the enemy were under the Jewish\nsword when I reached the mouth of the fissure. But in the first intervals\nof the struggle, the remains of our tortured people had been taken down\nfrom the accursed tree, tended with solemn sorrow, and given up to their\nrelatives and friends to be borne back to Jerusalem. The crosses were\nthrown into a heap and set on fire; the fallen legionaries underwent the\nlast indignities that could be inflicted by scorn and rage; and when\neven those grew weary, were flung into the blazing pile.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Burns a Cross]\n\nThe fate of the noble Eleazar was still unknown, and to obtain the\ncertainty of his preservation or to render the last honor to his remains,\nI forced my way toward the spot on which I had seen him awaiting death.\nBut my searches were in vain; the witnesses on both sides were now where\nthere is no utterance. Guard, executioner, and victim were clay; the\nbattle had raged chiefly round that spot, and the ground, trampled and\ndeep in blood, gave melancholy evidence of the havoc. There were painful\nand peculiar signs of the sacrifice that had extinguished the little\ngroup of the converts, and I poured oil and wine upon their hallowed\nashes. A large fragment of a cross still stood erect in the midst of them.\n\n\u201cWas it upon thee, accursed thing,\u201d I exclaimed, \u201cthat the life-blood of\nmy brother was poured? Was it upon thee that the last breath was breathed\nin torture from the lips of virtue, heroism, and purity? Never shalt thou\nminister again to the cruelty of the monsters that raised thee there.\u201d\n\nIndignantly I tore up the beam, and dragging it to the pile by my single\nstrength\u2014to the wonder of the crowd, who eagerly offered their help,\nbut whom I would not suffer to share in this imaginary yet consoling\nretribution\u2014I rolled it into the flames amid shouts and rejoicings.\n\nDaybreak was now at hand, and the sounds of the enemy\u2019s movements\nmade our retreat necessary. We heaped the last Roman corpse on the\npile, covered it with the broken spears, helmets, and cuirasses of the\nsoldiery, and then left the care of the conflagration to the wind. From\nthe valley to Jerusalem our way was crowded with the enemy\u2019s posts;\nbut the keen eye and agile vigor of the Jew eluded or anticipated the\nheavy-armed legionaries, by long experience taught to dread the night in\nJudea, and we reached the Grand Gate of Zion as the sun was shooting his\nfirst rays on the pinnacles of the Temple.\n\n[Sidenote: The Wild Host]\n\nIn those strange and agitated days, when every hour produced some\nextraordinary scene, I remember none more extraordinary than that\nmorning\u2019s marching into the city. It was a triumph, but how unlike all\nthat bore the name! It was no idle, popular pageant; no fantastic and\nstudied exhibition of trophies and treasures; no gaudy homage to personal\nambition; no holiday show to amuse the idleness or feed the vanity of\na capital secure in peace and pampered with the habits of opulence\nand supremacy. It was at once a rejoicing, a funeral, a great act of\natonement, a popular preservation, and a proud revenge on the proudest of\nenemies.\n\nOn the night before, not an eye had closed in Jerusalem. The Romans,\nquick to turn every change to advantage, had suffered the advance of our\nirregular combatants only until they could throw a force between them\nand the gates. The assault was made, and with partial success; but the\npopulation, once roused, was terrible to an enemy fighting against walls\nand ramparts, and the assailants were, after long slaughter on both\nsides, drawn off at the sight of our columns moving from the hills.\n\nWe thus marched in unassailed, a host of fifty thousand men, as wild\nand strange-looking a host as ever trod to acclamations from voices\nunnumbered. Every casement, roof, battlement, and wall in the long range\nof magnificent mansions, leading round by the foot of Zion to Mount\nMoriah, was crowded with spectators. Man, woman, and child of every rank\nwere there straining their eyes and voices, and waving hands, weapons,\nand banners in honor of their deliverers from the terror of massacre. Our\nmotley ranks had equipped themselves with the Roman spoils wherever they\ncould, and among the ragged vestures, discolored turbans, and rude pikes,\nmoved masses of glittering mail, helmets, and gilded lances. Beside the\ntorn flags of the tribes, embroidered standards were tossing with the\ninitial of the C\u00e6sars, or the golden image of some deity, mutilated by\nour scorn of the idolater.\n\n[Sidenote: Ester\u2019s Return]\n\nThe Jewish trumpets had scarcely sent up their chorus, when it was\nfollowed by the clanging of the Roman cymbal, the long and brilliant tone\nof the clarion, or the deep roar of the brass conch and serpent. Close\nupon ranks exulting and shouting victory came ranks bearing the honored\ndead on litters and bursting into bitter sorrow; then rolled onward\nthousands bounding and showing the weapons that they had torn from the\nenemy; then passed groups of the priesthood\u2014for they, too, had long taken\nthe common share in the defense\u2014singing one of the glorious hymns of the\nTemple; then again followed litters, surrounded by the wives and children\nof the dead, wrapt in inconsolable grief. Bands of warriors, who had\nnone to care for, the habitual sons of the field; armed women; chained\ncaptives; men covered with the stately dresses of our higher ranks; biers\nheaped with corpses; wagons piled with armor, tents, the wounded and the\ndead; every diversity of human circumstance, person, and equipment that\nbelongs to a state in which the elements of society are let loose\u2014in that\nmarch successively moved before the eye. With the men were mingled the\ncaptured horses of the legionaries; the camels and dromedaries of the\nallies; herds of the bull and buffalo, droves of goats and sheep; the\nwhole one mighty mass of misery, rejoicing nakedness, splendor, pride,\nhumiliation, furious and savage life, and honored and lamented death; the\nnoblest patriotism and the most hideous abandonment to the excesses of\nour nature.\n\nAs soon as I could extricate myself from the concourse, I hastened to\nappease the anxieties of my family, who had suffered the general terrors\nof the night, with the addition of their own stake in my peril and that\nof Constantius. My first inquiry was for Esther. To my great delight, she\nhad returned, but was still in nervous alarm. On the night of her being\nled through filial zeal to meet Septimius, she was seized by a party of\narmed men and by them conveyed to a dungeon, where questions had been\nput to her tending to charge me at once with magic and correspondence\nwith the enemy. But this persecution ceased, and she found herself as\nunexpectedly set at liberty as she had been seized. At the gate of her\nprison the minstrel had met her, and through the midst of the city, then\nin its fiercest agitation, had with singular dexterity conducted her\nsafely home.\n\n[Sidenote: A Minstrel\u2019s Acquirements]\n\nA service of this kind was not to go unrewarded, and he had been suffered\nto remain under our roof until my return. But by that time he had\nmade his ground secure by such zealous service and so many graceful\nqualities, that even Miriam, sensitive and sagacious as she was, desired\nthat he should be retained.\n\nFrom his knowledge of the various dialects of Asia and his means of\nunsuspected intercourse, few events could occur of which he had not\nobtained some previous knowledge. His adroitness in availing himself of\nhis knowledge I had already experienced in my escape from the gates, and\nit was to him that was due the flight of the negroes. A stray charger,\na mask, and the common juggler\u2019s contrivance of breathing flames, made\nup the demon that defrauded the Ethiopian exchequer. But his dexterity\nin the arts of elegance and taste was singular; his pencil was dipped in\nnature, and the sketches, which he was perpetually making of the wild and\npicturesque population that now filled our streets, were incomparable.\nHe sculptured, he modeled, he wove; he wrought the gold filigree and\nchainwork, for which our artists were famous, with a skill that the most\nfamous of them have envied. His knowledge of languages seemed the natural\nresult of his wanderings, but it was extraordinarily various and pure.\nThe dance and song were part of his profession; but from the little\nimperfect harp in use among the minstrels he drew tones that none other\nhad ever delighted me with\u2014sounds of such alternate spirit and sweetness,\nsuch tender and heart-reaching power, that they were like an immediate\ncommunication of mind with mind.\n\nAnd the charm of those acquirements was enhanced by the graceful\ncarelessness with which he made his estimate of their value. To my\nquestions how he could at his age have mastered so many attainments, his\nreply was that with his three teachers \u201ceverything might be learned;\ncommon sense alone excepted, the peculiar and rarest gift of Providence!\nThose three teachers were Necessity, Habit, and Time. At his starting in\nlife Necessity had told him that, if he hoped to live, he must labor;\nHabit had turned the labor into an indulgence; and Time gave every man an\nhour for everything unless he chose to sleep it away.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Constantius\u2019 Absence]\n\nBut he had higher topics, and the sagacity of his views, in a crisis\nthat was made to shake the wisdom of the wise, often held me in\nastonishment. The fate of Constantius deeply perplexed me. He had\nnow been absent long, and no tidings of him could be heard among the\nreturning warriors further than that he had joined them in the march to\nthe valley of the Crosses, had distinguished himself by the intrepidity\nof his attack on the legionary guard at the entrance, and was seen for a\nshort time with a captured standard in his hand leading on the people.\nUnable to endure the silent anguish of those round me, silent only\nthrough fear of giving me pain, I had determined on passing the walls\nagain to seek my brave and unfortunate son among the fallen. But Miriam\u2019s\nquick affection detected me, and with weeping prayers she implored\nthat \u201cI should not risk a life on which hung her own and those of her\nchildren.\u201d\n\nThe sound of the lyre came suddenly upon the air, and to dissipate the\ncloud that was gathering on my mind, I wandered to a balcony where, in\nthe evening light and the pleasant breathing of the breeze, the minstrel\nwas touching the strings to the song that had first attracted me. I flung\nmy wearied frame on a couch and listened until memory became too keen,\nand I waved my hand to him to change the strain. He obeyed, but his heart\nwas in the harp no more; his touch faltered, the song died away, and he\napproached me with a soothingness of voice and manner that none would\nhave desired to resist.\n\n\u201cMy prince,\u201d said he, \u201cyou are unhappy, and if your sorrows can be\nlightened by any service of mine, why not command me?\u201d\n\nHe waited; but I was too much absorbed in gloomy speculation.\n\n\u201cI can pass the gates,\u201d he timidly continued, \u201cif such be my lord\u2019s will.\u201d\n\nI made a sign of dissent, for the enemy, since their late surprise, had\nbegun to urge the siege with increased vigilance. Yet my anxiety for the\nfate of Constantius, and scarcely less for that of Naomi and her lover,\nmust have been visible.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Prejudices]\n\nHe still lingered nigh, watching the indications which inward struggle so\nforcibly paints upon the external man.\n\n\u201cPrince of Naphtali,\u201d said he in a steadier tone, \u201camong my teachers\nI forgot to mention one, and that one the most effective of\nall\u2014Self-determination! not the mere disregard of personal risk, but the\nintrepidity of the mind. I loved knowledge, and I pursued it without\nfear. Nature is boundless, wise, and wonderful\u2014but prejudice bars up the\ngate of knowledge. The man who would learn must despise the timidity that\nshrinks from wisdom, as he must hate the tyranny of opinion that condemns\nits pursuit. Wisdom is like beauty, to be won only by the bold.\u201d\n\nI looked up at the young pronouncer of the oracle. His countenance,\nanimated by the topic, wore an expression of power, in which I should\nnever have recognized the delicate and dejected being that he always\nappeared, except in some moment of sportiveness, come and gone with the\nquickness of lightning.\n\n\u201cMinstrel, apply this to our people or their bigoted and ignorant\nleaders. I have no prejudices.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll men have them, my prince, and the only distinction is that in some\nthey are mean, dark, and malignant; in others they are lofty, generous,\nand sensitive; yet they are but the stronger for their nobleness. The\nmind itself struggles to throw off the vile and naked fetter. But how\nmany forget the incumbrance of the chain of gold in its preciousness!\u201d\n\nHe hesitated, and then, with a still more elevated air, again began:\n\n\u201cYou despise, for instance, the little ingenuities of our profession, and\nI own that in general they deserve nothing else. But if there were to\ncome before you some true lover of nature, a disciple of that sublimer\nphilosophy which holds the secrets of her operations, a master of those\nsuperb influences which rule the frame of things, and yet more, guide the\nfates of men and nations\u2014would not your prejudices\u2014and noble ones they\nare\u2014lead you to repel the offer of his mysteries?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Minstrel\u2019s Attire]\n\nThoughts tending to those mysteries had so often occurred to me, and my\nmind was by its original constitution so fond of the abstruse and the\nwild, that I listened with interest to the romance of philosophy. The\nfigure before me was not unsuited to the illusion; slight, habited in the\nfanciful dress of his art, a tunic of purple cloth, bound round the waist\nwith a girdle; the turban, a mere band of scarlet silk, lightly laid upon\nhis curls. There was in all this nothing that was not to be seen at every\nhour in the streets, but round his waist, instead of the usual girdle\nof the minstrels, he wore to-night a large golden serpent, embossed and\ncolored with a startling resemblance to life, and a broad golden circlet\nwrought with devices of serpents clasping his brow. The countenance was\nvividness itself, not without that occasional wandering and touch of\nmelancholy that showed where early care has been, yet redeeming the gloom\nby a smile that had the sweetness and suddenness of the sunbeam across an\nApril shower.\n\nThe evening music of the Roman camps roused me as their ranks were drawn\nout for the customary exercise. I turned from them to glance upon the\nbattlements, that were now crowded with stragglers of the tribes inhaling\nthe air of the fields and like myself gazing on the movements of the\nenemy. The thought pressed on me how soon and how terribly all this must\nend; what were the multitudes to be that now lived and breathed beneath\nmy glance? The thought was too painful. I turned from earth to look upon\nthe east, where the evening star was lying on a rosy cloud, like a spirit\nsent to bring back tidings from this troubled world.\n\n\u201cThere, boy,\u201d said I, \u201cwill your wisdom tell me the story of that star?\nAre its people as mad as we? Is there ambition on one side and folly\non the other? Are their great men the prey of a populace, and their\npopulace the fools of their great men? Have they orators to inflame\ntheir passions; lawyers to beggar them in pursuit of justice; traders,\nto cheat them; heroes, to give them laurels at the price of blood; and\nphilosophers, to be the worst plagues among them?\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Rulers of the Empire]\n\n\u201cEven that knowledge,\u201d said the minstrel, \u201cmay not be beyond the flight\nof the human intellect; but prejudices must be first overcome; we must\nlearn to scorn idle names, defy idle fears, and use the powers of nature\nto give us the mastery of nature! There are virtues in plants, in\nmetals, even in words, that to seek, alarms the feeble, but to possess,\nconstitutes the mighty. There are influences of the air, of the stars, of\neven the most neglected and despised things, that may be gifted to confer\nthe sovereignty of mankind.\u201d\n\nI listened with the passive indulgence of one listening under a spell;\nhis voice had the sweetness and the flow of song, and his language was\nmade impressive by gestures of striking intelligence and beauty. He\npointed to the skies, to the flowers, to the horizon, that glowed like an\nocean of amber; and his fine countenance assumed a changing character of\nloftiness, loveliness, or repose as he gazed on the sublime or the serene.\n\n\u201cBoy,\u201d said I faintly, \u201care not such the studies by which the pagan world\nis made evil?\u201d\n\nHe smiled. \u201cNo! Light is not further from darkness than wisdom from the\nsuperstition of the pagan. Rome is filled with the madness that falls\nupon idolatry for its curse\u2014that has fallen since the beginning of the\nworld\u2014that shall fall until its end. She is the slave of ghostly fear.\nThis hour, among the proudest, boldest, wisest, within the borders of\npaganism, there lives not a man unenslaved by the lowest delusion. The\nsoothsayer, the interpreter of dreams, the sacrificer, the seller of the\ndust of the dead, the miserable pretender to magic\u2014those are the true\nrulers of the haughty empire\u2014those are the scepter-bearers to whom the\nEmperor is a menial\u2014those are the men of might who laugh at authority,\nset counsel at naught, and are sapping the foundations of the state, were\nthey deep as the center, by sapping the vigor of the national mind.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The King of Metals]\n\nWhile he spoke he was with apparent unconsciousness sketching some\noutlines on one of the large marble slabs of the wall. My eyes had\nfollowed the sun until the balcony, darkened by an old vine, was in the\ndepth of twilight. To my surprise, the marble began to be covered with\nfire, but fire of the softest and most silvery hue. The surprise was\nincreased by seeing this glowworm luster kindle into form. I saw the\nportrait of Constantius, and by his side Naomi and her lover. As the\nlines grew clearer still, I saw them in chains and in a dungeon! The\nextraordinary information which the minstrel had the means of obtaining\nmade me demand in real alarm whether the picture told the truth, and that\nif it did, I should be instantly acquainted with whatever might enable me\nto save them.\n\n\u201cAnd trifles like those fires can excite your astonishment?\u201d he replied;\n\u201cwhat if I were to tell you of wonders such as it has not entered into\nthe mind of the world to imagine, yet which are before us in every hour\nof our lives, are mingled with everything, are grasped in our insensate\nhands, are trodden by our careless feet? See these crystals\u201d\u2014he scraped\na portion of the niter exuding from the wall\u2014\u201cin these is hidden a power\nto which the strength of man is but air\u2014to which the bulwarks round\nus are but as the leaf on the breeze\u2014at whose command armies shall\nvanish, mountains shake, empires perish\u2014the whole face of society shall\nchange; yet by a sublime contradiction, combining the greatest evil with\nthe greatest good\u2014the most lavish waste of life with the most signal\nprovision for human security!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cJudea must fall!\u201d\n\n [_see page 511._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: The Supremacy of Man]\n\n\u201cLook on this metal,\u201d said he, pointing to some of the leaden ornaments\nof the balcony, \u201cand think what is the worth of human judgment. Who\nwould give the pearl or the diamond, the silver or the gold, for this\ndiscolored dross? Yet here is the king of metals\u2014the king of earth;\nfor it can create, subdue, and rule all that earth produces of power.\nWithin this dross are treasures hidden, more than earth could buy\u2014truth,\nknowledge, and freedom. It can give the dead a new life and the living\na new immortality. It can sink the haughtiest usurper that ever sinned\nagainst man into the lowest scorn. It can raise the humblest son of\nobscurity into preeminence, and even without breaking in upon the\nseclusion that he loves, set him forth to every future age crowned with\ninvoluntary glory. It can flash light upon the darkest corners of the\nearth\u2014light never to be extinguished. It can civilize the barbarian; it\ncan pour perpetual increase of happiness, strength, and liberty round\nthe civilized. It can make feet for itself that walk through the dungeon\nwalls; wings that the uttermost limits of the world can not weary; eyes\nto which the darkest concealments of evil are naked as the day; intellect\nthat darts through the universe and solves the mightiest secrets of\nnature and of mind! But in it, too, is a fearful power of ruin.\u201d\n\nHe gazed on me with a glance that seemed to shoot fire.\n\n\u201cHolding the keys of opulence and empire,\u201d he continued, \u201cit can raise\nmen and nations to the most dazzling height\u2014but it can stain, delude, and\nmadden them until they become a worse than pestilence to human nature.\u201d\n\nWhile he spoke, his form assumed a grandeur commensurate with his lofty\ntopics; the power of his voice awoke with the awaking power of his mind.\nMy faculties succumbed under his presence, and I could only exclaim:\n\n\u201cMore of those wonders; give me more of those noble evidences of the\nsupremacy of man!\u201d\n\n\u201cMan!\u201d said my strange enlightener; \u201clook upon him as he is, and what\nmore helpless thing moves under the canopy of heaven? The prey of folly,\nthe creature of accident, the sport of nature, the surge whirls him\nwhere it will; the wind scorns his bidding; the storm crushes him; the\nlightning smites him. But look upon man when knowledge has touched him\nwith her scepter.\u201d\n\nThe circlet on his brow seemed to quiver and sparkle with inward luster;\nthe golden serpent that clasped his robe seemed to writhe and revolve.\nI felt like one under fascination. A strange sense of danger thrilled\nthrough me, yet mixed with a dreamy and luxurious sense of enjoyment. The\nair seemed heavy with fragrance, and I sat listening in powerless homage\nto a lip molded by beauty and disdain.\n\n\u201cMan, the sport of nature!\u201d said he, pointing to a bead of dew that hung\nglittering on a leaf of the vine. \u201cSay man, the sovereign of nature! With\nbut so feeble an instrument as this dew-drop he might control and scorn\nthe wind and the wave! Or would you defy the storm in darkness, without\nsun or star speed through the unknown ocean, and add a new world to the\nold? Within this fragment lies the secret.\u201d\n\nHe struck off a brown splinter from the stone of the balcony.\n\n[Sidenote: Exiled\u2014Desperate\u2014Undone]\n\n\u201cOr would you behold regions to which the stars that now blaze above our\nheads are but the portal,\u201d he said; \u201ckingdoms of light never penetrated\nby mortal vision; generations of worlds? By what splendid influence,\nthink you, that the miracle is to be wrought? Even by this dust!\u201d\n\nHe took up a few grains of the sand at his feet and poured them into my\nrobe. He saw his time.\n\n\u201cWould you,\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cbe master of those magnificent secrets? Then\nbind this girdle round you and invoke the name that I shall name.\u201d\n\nI shuddered; the arts of the diviner flashed upon me. But I had listened\ntoo long not to be enfeebled by the temptation. I felt the passion which\nlost us paradise\u2014the thirst of forbidden knowledge. Still I resisted. The\nyoung deceiver pressed me with more distinct promises.\n\n\u201cIn your fate,\u201d said he, \u201cthe fate of your nation is bound up. Has it not\nbeen declared that a great deliverer is to come, by whom the face of the\nenemies of Judah is to be withered, and the scepter of the earth given\nto the hand of Israel? Pledge yourself to me and be that deliverer! You\nshrink! Know then\u2014that even while I speak, every creature of your blood\nis in chains; your house is desolate; your fortunes are overthrown; you\nare cut off root and branch; you are exiled\u2014desperate\u2014undone!\u201d\n\nI felt a dreadful certainty that his words were true. My heart bled at\nthe picture of ruin. I wavered. The temptation tingled through my veins.\n\n\u201cWhat were the sacrifice of myself,\u201d thought I, \u201cwretched and sentenced\nas I was, to the preservation of beings made for happiness? Or was I to\nhesitate, let the risk be what it might, when virtue, patriotism, and\nboundless knowledge were added to that preservation? For the trivial\nhonors that man could give to man, the highest intellects of the earth\nhad been influenced, but the honors of the restorer of Judah were an\nimmortal theme\u2014the old splendors of triumph were pronounced vain and dim,\nthe old supremacy of thrones weakness, to the domination and grandeur of\nthe sovereign who should sway the returning tribes of Zion.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Judea Must Fall]\n\nThe figure approached me, and in a voice that sank with subtle force\nthrough every nerve pronounced the vow that I was to utter. I was\nterror-struck; a cloud came over my sight; strange lights moved and\nglittered before me. I felt the unspeakable dread that my faculties\nshould betray me, and that I should unconsciously yield to a temptation\nwhich yet I had no strength to withstand.\n\nWhile I sat helpless and almost blind, I was aroused by a majestic voice.\nI looked up. Eleazar was at my side. I would have flung myself into\nhis arms; I would have cast myself at his feet, but an indescribable\nsensation told me that my noble brother was to be so approached no more.\n\n\u201cWell and wisely hast thou resisted,\u201d were his solemn words, \u201cfor in thee\nare the last fortunes of thy people. Judea must fall; but fallen with\nher as thou shalt be, and desolate, despairing, and wild as shall be thy\nsojourn, the last blow of ruin to both would be given hadst thou yielded\nto the adversary.\u201d\n\nI glanced at the minstrel. His visage was horror; he stood deformed, like\none dead in the moment of torture. I closed my eyes against the hideous\nspectacle. A sound of hurrying steps made me open them, after how long an\ninterval I know not. I was alone!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LXIV\n\n_The Destruction of Jerusalem_\n\n\n[Sidenote: To the Tower of Antonia]\n\nThe sounds of the footsteps increased. Overwhelmed as I was by the trial\nthat my mind had just undergone, I sat nearly unconscious of external\nthings till I was roused by a strong grasp from behind and saw myself\nsurrounded by armed men. I was passively bound; and indifferent to\nfortune, was flung into a litter and conveyed to the Tower of Antonia.\nIn this vast circle of fortifications, the citadel of the former Roman\ngarrison, the Jewish government was now held, or rather Onias lorded it\nover the population. He had discovered my dwelling, and the first fruit\nof his knowledge was my seizure and that of my family. He was now playing\nthe last throw of that desperate game to which his life had been given.\nPower was within his reach, yet there I stood to thwart him once more,\nand he was resolved to extinguish the first source of his danger. Yet I\nwas popular, and with all his daring, he desired to cast the odium of my\ndeath on the Sanhedrin. I was to be tried on the ground of treating with\nthe enemy; my family were seized, to shake my courage by their peril, and\nI was to be forced to an ignominious confession as the price of saving\ntheir lives.\n\nAt the mouth of a dungeon a torch was put into my hands. I was left to\nmake my way, and the iron door was closed that had shut out many a wretch\nfrom light and life. At the bottom of the steps I found a man sleeping\ntranquilly on the stone. The glare of the torch disturbed him; he started\nup, and, looking in my face, exclaimed in the buoyant and cheerful tone\nby which I should have recognized him under any disguise:\n\n[Sidenote: The Captain Tells of Constantius]\n\n\u201cBy Jupiter! I knew that we were to meet! If I had to sleep to-night at\nthe bottom of the sea, I should wager my simitar to a straw that our\nbodies would be found lying side by side. I presume we mount the scaffold\ntogether to-morrow for the benefit of Jewish morality. Well, then, since\nour fates are to be joined, let us begin by\u2014supping together.\u201d\n\nIt was the captain! He laid his store on the ground; but I was heartsick,\nand could only question him of Naomi, and the misfortune which had\nbetrayed him into the hands of the tyrant.\n\n\u201cOur history is the briefest in the world,\u201d was the answer; \u201cwe found\nourselves pursued, and we fled. The pursuers followed faster than my fair\nmistress could run, or I could carry her. So we were overtaken before\nwe could clear the rocks, and our captors were forthwith carrying us to\nthe Roman camp, in great joy at their prize. But it was intended to be\nan unlucky day for the legions. We came across a Jewish troop, headed\nby a fine, bold fellow, who dashed upon the captors and fluttered them\nlike a flight of pigeons. Nothing could promise better than the affair,\nfor my new captor turned out to be an old friend, and one of the most\ngallant that ever commanded a trireme. Many a day the Cypriot and I\nchased (Nemesis forgive us for it!) the pirates through the Cyclades: I,\nhowever, did not know then what pleasant personages the brothers of the\nfree-trade might be.\u201d\n\nHe smiled, and the sigh that followed the smile told how little he had\nsince found to compensate for his old adventures.\n\n\u201cA Cypriot. Your captor was my son, my Constantius!\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cThe very man. When he had found me out under my Arab trappings, he was\nall hospitality, and invited me to share the honors of his princely\nfather\u2019s house. His troop soon scattered every man to his home, and I\nwas gazing at the head of an incomparable knave and early acquaintance,\nJonathan, nailed up over the gate for some villainy which he had not been\nas adroit as usual in turning to profit, when Constantius, myself, and\nthat lovely girl, whom I shall never see more\u201d\u2014he bent his brows at the\nrecollection\u2014\u201cwere seized by the guard, separated, and sent, I suppose,\nalike to the dungeon.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Egyptian\u2019s Papers]\n\nShortly after midnight I was brought before the tribunal. Onias was my\naccuser, and I was astonished at the dexterity, number, and plausibility\nof his charges\u2014magic, treachery, the betrayal of my army, the refusal\nto push the defeated enemy to a surrender, lest by the cessation of the\nwar my ambition should be deprived of its object; and last and most\nastonishing, the assassination of my kinsman, Jubal, through fear of his\ntestimony!\n\nI made my defense with the fearlessness of one weary of life. Some of the\ncharges I explained; others I promptly repelled. To the imputation of\ntreachery I answered in a single sentence.\n\n\u201cRead that correspondence with the enemy and judge which is the traitor.\u201d\n\nI took the Egyptian\u2019s papers from my sash and flung them on the table.\nThe aspect of my accuser at the words was one that might have made his\nsternest hater pity him. He gasped, he trembled, he gnashed his teeth in\nrage and terror, and finally took refuge in the ranks of his followers.\nBut the judges themselves were in visible perplexity; they looked over\nthe papers, held them to the lamps, and examined them in all imaginable\nways, until the chief of the Sanhedrin rising, with a frown that fixed\nall eyes on me, flung the papers at my feet. The deepest silence was\nround me as I took up the rejected proofs. To my astonishment they were\nutterly blank!\n\n[Sidenote: The Secret of the Signet]\n\nI now recollected that on my entrance I had been pressed upon by the\ncrowd. In that moment the false papers must have been substituted. I\nsaw the Egyptian gliding away from the side of Onias, and saw by the\ncountenance of my accuser that the tidings of the robbery had just\nreached him. He now declaimed against me with renewed energy. He was\neloquent by nature; the habit of public affairs had given his speaking\nthat character of practical vigor and reality which is essential to great\npublic impression; his fortunes hung in the scale\u2014perhaps his life; and\nhe poured out the whole collected impulse in a torrent of the boldest\nand most nervous declamation upon my head. Still my name was high; my\nrank was not to be lightly assailed; my national services were felt; and\neven the corrupt judicature summoned for my ruin were not so insensible\nto popular feeling as to violate the forms of law to crush me. The trial\nlasted during the night. I had the misery to see my wife, my children,\nConstantius, Naomi, my domestics, my fellow warriors, every human being\nwhom there was a chance of perplexing, or terrifying into testimony,\nbrought forward against me.\n\nAs a last resource, on the secret suggestion of the Egyptian, who had\nhis own revenge to satisfy, the adventures of the pirates\u2019 cavern were\ndeclaimed upon, and the captain was summoned from his cell. His figure\nand noble physiognomy made him conspicuous, and a general murmur of\nadmiration arose on his advance to the tribunal. Miriam was at my side. I\nfelt her tremble; her color went and came, and she drank in every tone of\nhis voice with an intense anxiety. But when, in answer to the questions\nof Onias, he detailed his story, and in answer to the charge of his being\nan enemy denied that he was either Roman or Greek, Miriam\u2019s spirit hung\nupon every word.\n\n\u201cA soldier\u2019s best pedigree,\u201d said he, concluding, \u201cis his sword. I know\nno more than that I was reared in the house of a Cypriot noble, to whom\nI had been brought by a trader of Alexandria. My protector made me a\nsailor, and would have made me his heir, but Roman insolence disgusted\nme, and I left my command, bearing with me no other inheritance than a\nheart too proud for slavery, my simitar, and this signet, which I have\nworn from my infancy.\u201d\n\nHe took from his bosom a large sculptured gem fastened to a chain of\npearls. Miriam put forth her trembling hand for it, read with a starting\neye her own name and mine, and exclaiming, \u201cMy son! my son!\u201d tottered\nforward and fell fainting into his arms.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel\u2019s Farewell]\n\nI flew to them both, and never did a wo-worn heart beat with keener\njoy than when I, too, clasped my son, my long-lost, my first-born. Yet\nthe cloud gathered instantly. Had he not come to take the earliest\nembrace of his parents in the crisis of their fate\u2014the promise of an\nunbroken lineage, found only in the day when my country was in the jaws\nof destruction\u2014the father awaking to those loveliest and happiest\nties of nature only when the ax of the traitor or the sword of the\nenemy was uplifted to cut them asunder forever\u2014the prince, the patriot,\nthe warrior, summoned to the first exercise of his noble rights and\nduties\u2014when in the next hour a heap of dust might be all that was left of\nhis family and his people!\n\nI clung to my son with a fondness thirsting to repay its long arrear.\nHis desertion in the hands of strangers; the early hardships; the loss\nof a mother\u2019s love and a father\u2019s protection; the insults and privations\nthat the struggler through the world must bear; the desperate hazards\nof his life; even the errors into which necessity and circumstance had\ndriven him, rose up in judgment against me; I reproached myself even for\nthe accident, perhaps the irresistible accident, that gave my infant to\nthe roaring waters. But the tears and exclamations of the people round\nus recalled us. I might then have walked from the hall without any man\u2019s\ndaring to lay a hand upon me, for the public feeling, touched by the\ndiscovery of my son, was loud for my instant liberation. But I was not\nto be satisfied with this imperfect justice, and I demanded that the\ntribunal should proceed.\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cShed Not the Innocent Blood\u201d]\n\nThe presence of my family was felt too strong for the fears of my\npersecutor, and he demanded that they should retire. An impression, like\nthe warning of a superior spirit, instantly told me that the parting was\nforever! The same impression was evidently on their minds, for their\nparting was like an eternal farewell. The whole group at once gathered\nround me. Constantius and Salome knelt before me for final forgiveness.\nMy son and his betrothed bowed their heads to ask my blessing. Miriam\nand Esther came last, and silently hung upon my neck, dissolved in tears\nof matchless anguish and love. I lifted my eyes and heart to Heaven, and\ntho oppressed with the terrible conviction of my own fate, put forth my\nhands and blessed them in the name of the God of Israel. I saw them pass\naway. My firmness could bear no more; I wept aloud. But with my sorrow\nthere was given a hope\u2014a light across the gloom of my soul. When I saw\ntheir stately forms solemnly move along through the fierce and guilty\nmultitude, and the distant portal shut upon them, I thought of the sons\nand daughters of the great patriarch passing within the door of the ark\nfrom the midst of a condemned world.\n\nThe night wore on; the people, exhausted by the length of a trial,\nprotracted for the purpose, had left the hall nearly empty; and Onias,\nnow secure of a tribunal that dreaded nothing but the public eye, urged\nthe decision. The judges were his creatures through corruption or fear;\nhis followers alone remained. Sure to be crushed, the fluctuations of\nhope were gone; and I listened to the powerful and high-wrought harangue\nof my enemy without a feeling but of admiration for his extraordinary\npowers, or of pity for their perverter. While he stood, drinking in with\nears and eyes the wonder and homage of the audience, I myself called for\nsentence.\n\n\u201cScorning,\u201d said I, \u201cto reason with understandings that will not\ncomprehend, and consciences that can not feel, I appeal from the man of\nblood to the God of mercies; from the worse than man of blood, from the\ncorrupter of justice, to HIM who shall judge the judge; to Him who shall\nyet pass sentence on all in the sight of earth and heaven.\u201d\n\nThe chief of the tribunal rose; my condemnation was upon a lip quivering\nand pale; he had already in his hand the border of the robe which he was\nto rend, in sign that the accused was rent from Israel.\n\nA confusion at the portal checked him, and the words resounded: \u201cShed\nnot the innocent blood!\u201d The voice was as a voice from the sepulcher,\nmelancholy, but searching to the very heart. The guard gave way, and\na man, covered from head to foot with a sepulchral garment, rushed up\nthe immense hall. At the foot of the tribunal he flung off the garment,\nand disclosed a face and form that well might have ranked him among the\ndwellers of the grave.\n\n\u201cI have come from the tombs,\u201d exclaimed he; \u201cI had lain down to die in\nthe resting-place of my fathers, in the valley of Jehoshaphat. A man in\nwhite raiment stood beside me and commanded me to come and bear witness\nof the truth. The Romans were round me\u2014he led me through them; the\nbattlements were before me\u2014he led me through them; riot, fury, and frenzy\nstood in my path through your city\u2014he led me through them; and lo! here I\ncome, and proclaim by his command: \u2018Shed not the innocent blood.\u2019\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: Onias the Accused]\n\nOnias stood paralyzed. No memory of mine could recall the haggard\nfeatures of the stranger. The chief of the tribunal in manifest confusion\nrequired his name.\n\n\u201cMy name,\u201d he answered, with a wild wave of his hand, \u201cis nothing\u2014air\u2014is\ngone. What I was, is past; what I shall be, the tomb alone must tell; but\nwhat I am, is the witness, commissioned to proclaim Onias the betrayer of\nthe blood of your nobles, the slave of Rome, the traitor to his country,\nthe apostate to his religion.\u201d\n\nAll hands were lifted up in astonishment. Onias, sick at heart, made a\nfeeble gesture of denial.\n\n\u201cDares the traitor deny his own handwriting?\u201d was the indignant reply.\n\u201cLet him read his treason, committed within these twelve hours.\u201d\n\nHe stalked over to the guilty Onias and held his letters to the Roman\ngeneral before his shrinking eye.\n\nWhile my eyes were fixed on the portal through which had vanished my\nlast hope of happiness, I was startled by an outcry, and I saw the gleam\nof steel at my throat. Onias, in despair of smiting me by the arm of\nthe law, had made a frenzied effort to destroy me by his own. Quick as\nlightning the stranger threw himself between us and grasped the assassin;\nthey struggled\u2014they were involved in the large and loose robe and fell\ntogether. I sprang forward to separate them. But the deed was done. Onias\nlay rolling upon the ground; the dagger was in the stranger\u2019s grasp, and\nit was crimson to the hilt. I could feel no vindictiveness against the\ndying, and I offered him my hand. He threw a violent expression of scorn\ninto his stiffening features, and cried at convulsive intervals:\n\n\u201cNo compassion\u2014no hypocrisy for me\u2014I die as I lived. I hated you, for you\nthwarted me.\u2014You have the best of the game now; but if I had lived till\nto-morrow, I should have been lord of Jerusalem.\u2014The Romans will settle\nall.\u2014You and yours would have been in my power.\u2014You shall perish.\u2014That\nboy is your son; he was brought to me in his infancy; I hated you as my\nrival; and I swore that you should never see your first-born again. I\nsold him to the Alexandrian.\u2014You shall not live to triumph over me; your\ndungeon shall be your tomb; another night, and you sleep no more, or\nsleep forever.\u201d\n\nHe gathered his mantle over his face and died.\n\nHis followers, after the first consternation, demanded vengeance on the\nstranger. But it was now my time to protect him, and I declared that no\nman should strike him but through me.\n\n[Sidenote: The Last of Jubal]\n\n\u201cThis is noble and generous,\u201d interrupted he, \u201cbut useless. I, too, am\ndying; but I rejoice that I am dying by the wound meant for you. Have\nI at last atoned? Have you forgotten? Can you forgive? Then, prince of\nNaphtali, lay your hand upon this heart, and while it beats believe that\nthere you are honored. Time has changed me; misery has extinguished the\nlast trace of what I was. Farewell, my kinsman, friend, chieftain\u2014and\nremember\u2014Jubal.\u201d\n\nI caught him in my arms; my heart melted at his sufferings, his generous\nattachment, his heroic devotion, his deep repentance.\n\n\u201cYou have more than atoned,\u201d I exclaimed; \u201cyou are more than forgiven.\nLive, my manly, kind, high-hearted Jubal; live for the honor of your\nrace\u2014of your country\u2014of human nature.\u201d\n\nHe looked up with a smile of gratitude, and faintly uttering, \u201cI die\nhappy,\u201d breathed in my arms the last breath of one of the most gallant\nspirits that ever left the world.\n\nLoud shouts abroad and blazes that colored the roof with long columns of\nlurid light put an end to the deliberation of the tribunal. The enemy\nwere assaulting the citadel, and the mockery of justice was summarily\nclosed by returning me to my dungeon, to await times fitter for the\ncalmness of judicial murder.\n\n[Sidenote: The Dungeon\u2019s Heat]\n\nThe assault continued for some hours; but to my cell, sunk in the very\nfoundations of the fortress, day never came; and I lay, still buried in\ndarkness, when I heard sounds like the blows of pickaxes, and from time\nto time the fall of heavy bodies, followed by a roar. The air grew close,\nand chill as the dungeon had been, I experienced a sensation of heat\nstill more painful. The heat increased rapidly. I tried to avoid it by\nshifting my place in the vault. But the evil was not to be baffled\u2014the\nair grew hotter and hotter. I flung myself on the pavement to draw a cool\nbreath from the stones; they began to glow under me. I ran to the door of\nthe dungeon; it was iron, and the touch scorched me. I shouted, I tore at\nthe walls, at the massive rings in the floor, less perhaps from the hope\nof thus escaping than from the vague eagerness to deaden present pain by\nviolent effort. But I tore up the pavement and broke down the fragments\nof the walls in vain. The walls themselves began to split with the heat;\nsmoke eddied through the crevices of the immense stones, and the dungeon\nwas filled with fiery vapor. My raiment encumbered me; I tore it away,\nand on the floor saw it fall in ashes. I felt the agonies of suffocation;\nand at last, helpless and hopeless, threw myself down, like my raiment,\nto be consumed.\n\nI had scarcely touched the stone when I felt it shake and vibrate from\nside to side. A hollow noise like distant thunder echoed through the\nvault; the walls shook, collapsed, opened, and I was plunged down a\nchasm, and continued rolling for some moments in a whirl of stones, dust,\nearth, and smoke.\n\nWhen it subsided, I found myself lying on the green sward, in noonday,\nat the bottom of a valley, with the tower of Antonia covered with the\nlegionaries, five hundred feet above me. The remnants of huge fires round\npillars of timber explained the mystery. The enemy had undermined the\nwall, and by burning the props, had brought it down at the moment of the\nassault. Onias, the planner of the attack, for which he was to be repaid\nwith the procuratorship of Judea, had placed me in the spot where ruin\nwas to begin, and cheered his dying moments with the certainty that,\nacquitted or not, there I must be undone!\n\n[Sidenote: Preparations]\n\nI long lay confused and powerless beside my dungeon! But the twilight\nair revived me, and I crept through the deserted entrenchments of the\nenemy until I reached one of the gates, where I announced my name, and\nwas received with rejoicings. The heart of my countrymen was heroic to\nthe last, and deeply was its heroism now demanded; for the whole force\nof the enemy had been brought up for final assault, and when I entered,\nevery portion of the walls was the scene of unexampled battle. Where\nthe ground suffered the approach of troops, the enemy\u2019s columns, headed\nby archers and slingers innumerable, rushed to the rampart, climbing\nup the breaches, with their shields covering their heads. Against the\ntowers were wheeled towers filled with troops, who descended on the\nwall and fought us hand to hand. We felt the continued blows of the\nbattering-rams, shaking the battlements under our feet. Where the ground\nrepelled direct assault, there the military machines poured havoc, and\nthose were the most dreaded of all.\n\nThe skill of man, exerted for ages on the arts of compendious slaughter,\nhas scarcely produced the equals of those horrible engines. They threw\nmasses of unextinguishable fire, of boiling water, of burning oil, of\nred-hot flints, of molten metal, from distances that precluded defense,\nand with a force that nothing could resist. The catapult shot stones of\na hundred-weight from the distance of furlongs, with the straightness\nof an arrow, and with an impulse that ground everything in their way\nto powder. The fortitude that scorned the Roman spear, and exulted in\nthe sight of the columns mounting the scaling-ladders, as mounting to\nsure destruction, quailed before the tremendous power of the catapult.\nThe singular and ominous cry of the watchers, who gave notice of its\ndischarge, \u201cThe son cometh,\u201d was a sound that prostrated every man upon\nhis face, until the crash of the walls told that the blow was given.\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cWo to the City!\u201d]\n\nEvery thought that I had now for earth was in the tower of Antonia!\nBut there the legions rendered approach impossible, and I could only\ngaze from a distance and see, in the bitterness of my soul, the enemy\ngradually forcing their way from rampart to rampart. It was in vain that\nI strove to collect a few who would join me in a desperate attempt to\nsuccor its defenders. I was left alone, and sitting on the battlements, I\ntook the chance of some friendly spear or stone.\n\nThrough all the roar I heard the voice of Sabat, the Ishmaelite: the\neternal \u201cWo!\u2014wo!\u2014wo!\u201d loud as ever, and in appalling unison with the\nhour. He now came rushing along the wall with the same rapid and vigorous\nstride as of old, but his betrothed no longer followed him. She was borne\nin his arms! The stones from the engines thundered against the wall; they\ntore up the strong buttresses like weeds; they struck away whole ranks of\nmen, and whirled their remnants through the air. They leveled towers and\nswept battlements away with their defenders at a blow. But Sabat moved\nunshrinking on his wild mission. His cry now was terrible prophecy.\n\n\u201cA voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice from the four\nwinds, a voice against Jerusalem and the holy house, a voice against the\nbridegroom and the bride, a voice against this whole people.\u201d\n\nHe stopped before me, and pointing to the face of his bride, said with\na sudden faltering and tears: \u201cShe is gone; she is dead. She died last\nnight. I promised to die too. She follows me no more. It is I that must\nfollow her.\u201d\n\nDeath was in his face, and my only wonder was that a form so utterly\nreduced could live and move. I offered him some provision from the basket\nof a dead soldier at my feet. For the first time he took it, thanked me,\nand ate. Not less to my surprise, he continued gazing round him on the\nmovements of the enemy, on the temple, the tower of Antonia, and the\nhills. But his station was eminently perilous, and I pointed out one of\nthe military engines taking its position to play upon the spot where we\nwere. He refused to stir.\n\n\u201cThe look may be long,\u201d said he, \u201cwhen a man looks his last.\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Conflict of Heaven and Earth]\n\nI heard the roar of the engine, and leaped from the rampart to escape the\ndischarge. Sabat stood, and again began his cry: \u201cWo to the city, and to\nthe holy house, and to the people!\u201d The discharge tore up a large portion\nof the battlement. Sabat never moved limb or feature. The wall was cut\naway on his right and left, as if it had been cut with an ax. He stood\ncalmly on the projecting fragment with his lips to the lips of his bride.\nI saw the engine leveled again, and again called to him to escape. He\ngave me no answer but a melancholy smile; and crying out, with a voice\nthat filled the air: \u201cWo to myself!\u201d stood. I heard the rush of the\nstone. It smote Sabat and his bride into atoms![55]\n\nThe fall of our illustrious and unhappy city was supernatural. The\ndestruction of the conquered was against the first principles of Roman\npolity, and to the last hour of our national existence, Rome held out\noffers of peace, and lamented our frantic determination to be undone. But\nthe decree was gone forth from a mightier throne. During the latter days\nof the siege, a hostility to which that of man was as the grain of sand\nto the tempest that drives it on, overpowered our strength and senses.\n\nFearful shapes and voices in the air; visions startling us from our short\nand troubled sleep; lunacy in its most hideous forms; sudden death in the\nmidst of vigor; the fury of the elements let loose upon our unsheltered\nheads; we had every terror and evil that could beset human nature,\nbut pestilence; the most probable of all in a city crowded with the\nfamishing, the diseased, the wounded, and the dead. Yet, tho the streets\nwere covered with the unburied, tho every wall and trench was streaming\nwith gore, tho six hundred thousand corpses lay flung over the rampart,\nnaked to the sun\u2014pestilence came not; for if it had come, the enemy would\nhave been scared away. But the \u201cabomination of desolation,\u201d the pagan\nstandard, was fixed, where it was to remain until the plow passed over\nthe ruins of Jerusalem!\n\n[Sidenote: The Last Sign]\n\nOn one night, that fatal night! no man laid his head upon his pillow.\nHeaven and earth were in conflict. Meteors burned above us; the ground\nshook under our feet; the volcano blazed; the wind burst forth in\nirresistible blasts, and swept the living and the dead in whirlwinds, far\ninto the desert. We heard the bellowing of the distant Mediterranean, as\nif its waters were at our side, swelled by a new deluge. The lakes and\nrivers roared and inundated the land. The fiery sword shot out tenfold\nfire. Showers of blood fell. Thunder pealed from every quarter of the\nheaven. Lightning, in immense sheets, of an intensity and duration that\nturned the darkness into more than day, withering eye and soul, burned\nfrom the zenith to the ground, and marked its track by forests on flame,\nand the shattered summits of the hills.\n\nDefense was not thought of, for the mortal hostility had passed from the\nmind. Our hearts quaked for fear, but it was to see the powers of heaven\nshaken. All cast away the shield and the spear, and crouched before the\ndescending judgment. We were conscience-smitten. Our cries of remorse,\nanguish, and horror were heard through the uproar of the storm. We howled\nto the caverns to hide us; we plunged into the sepulchers to escape the\nwrath that consumed the living; we would have buried ourselves under the\nmountains! I knew the cause, the unspeakable cause, and knew that the\nlast hour of crime was at hand. A few fugitives, astonished to see one\nman among them not sunk into the lowest feebleness of fear, came round\nme, and besought me to lead them to some place of safety, if such were\nnow to be found on earth. I told them openly that they were to die, and\ncounseled them to die in the hallowed ground of the Temple. They followed\nme through streets encumbered with every shape of human suffering, to the\nfoot of Mount Moriah. But beyond that, we found advance impossible. Piles\nof cloud, whose darkness was palpable, even in the midnight in which we\nstood, covered the holy hill. Still, not to be daunted by anything that\nman could overcome, I cheered my disheartened band, and attempted to lead\nthe way up the ascent. But I had scarcely entered the cloud when I was\nswept downward by a gust that tore the rocks in a flinty shower round me.\n\n[Sidenote: \u201cLet Us Go Hence\u201d]\n\nNow came the last and most wondrous sign that marked the fate of Israel.\nWhile I lay helpless, I heard the whirlwind roar through the cloudy\nhill, and the vapors began to revolve. A pale light, like that of the\nrising moon, quivered on their edges, and the clouds rose and rapidly\nshaped themselves into the forms of battlements and towers. The sound of\nvoices was heard within, low and distant, yet strangely sweet. The luster\nbrightened, and the airy building rose, tower on tower, and battlement\non battlement. In awe that held us mute, we knelt and gazed upon this\nmore than mortal architecture, which continued rising and spreading, and\nglowing with a serener light, still soft and silvery, yet to which the\nbroadest moonbeam was dim. At last it stood forth to earth and heaven,\nthe colossal image of the first Temple, the building raised by the wisest\nof men, and consecrated by the visible glory.\n\nAll Jerusalem saw the image, and the shout that, in the midst of their\ndespair, ascended from its thousands and tens of thousands, told what\nproud remembrances were there. But a hymn was heard that might have\nhushed the world. Never fell on my ear, never on the human sense, a sound\nso majestic, yet so subduing; so full of melancholy, yet of grandeur. The\ncloudy portal opened, and from it marched a host such as man had never\nseen before, such as man shall never see but once again; the guardian\nangels of the city of David!\u2014they came forth glorious, but with wo in all\ntheir steps; the stars upon their helmets dim; their robes stained; tears\nflowing down their celestial beauty.\n\n\u201cLet us go hence,\u201d was their song of sorrow; \u201cLet us go hence,\u201d was\nanswered by the sad echoes of the mountains. \u201cLet us go hence,\u201d swelled\nupon the night to the farthest limits of the land. The procession\nlingered long on the summit of the hill. Then, the thunder pealed; and\nthey rose at the command, diffusing waves of light over the expanse of\nheaven. Their chorus was heard, still magnificent and melancholy, when\ntheir splendor was diminished to the brightness of a star. The thunder\nroared again; the cloudy temple was scattered on the winds; and darkness,\nthe omen of her grave, settled upon Jerusalem!\n\nI was roused from my consternation by the voice of a man.\n\n[Sidenote: A Glance toward the Temple]\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said he, \u201csitting here, when all the world is stirring? Poring\nover the faces of dead men, when you should be the foremost among the\nliving? All Jerusalem in arms, and yet you scorn your time to gain\nlaurels?\u201d\n\nThe haughty and sarcastic tone was familiar to my recollection; but to\nsee, as I did, a Roman soldier within a few feet of me was enough to make\nme spring up, and draw my simitar, careless of consequences.\n\n\u201cYou ought to know me,\u201d said he, without moving a muscle; \u201cfor tho it is\nsome years since we met, we have not been often asunder. And so here you\nhave been sitting these twelve hours among corpses, to no better purpose\nthan losing your time and your memory together!\u201d\n\nI looked round; the sun was in his meridian. The little band that I had\nled to the foot of the mountain were lying dead, to a man.\n\n\u201cAre you not a Roman?\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cNo; but I conclude that nearly as much absurdity and mischief may be\ncommitted under these trappings as under any other, and therefore I wear\nthem. But you may exchange with me if you like. This cuirass and falchion\nwill help you to money, riot, violence, and vice\u2014and what more do\nnine-tenths of mankind ask for in their souls? Take my offer and you will\nbe on the winning side; another thing that men like. But be expeditious,\nfor before this sun dips his forehead in the Asphaltites, the bloodshed\nand robbery will be over.\u201d\n\nHis laugh, as he uttered the words, was bitterness itself, and I felt\nmy flesh instinctively shudder. But a glance toward the Temple told me\nthat the words were true. The legions had forced their way to the foot\nof the third and weakest rampart, which I now saw flying in pieces under\nthe blows of the battering-rams. They must have marched by the very spot\nwhere I had sat since midnight, and I probably escaped only by being\ntaken for one of the dead. I wrung my hands in agony. He burst into a\nwild roar of derision.\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel Beholds Epiphanes]\n\n\u201cWhat fools you lords of the creation are! What is the loss of life to\nthe naked wretches that you see running about like frightened children\non those battlements, or to the clothed wretches that you see ready to\nmassacre them, for the honor and glory of a better-clothed wretch?\u2014a\ndinner too much will revenge them on the Emperor of the earth. The spear\nor the arrow comes, and quick as thought their troubles are at an end.\nMan!\u2014the true misery is to live, to be constrained to live, to feel the\nwants, wearinesses, and weaknesses of life, yet to drag on existence; to\nbe\u2014what I am.\u201d\n\nHe tore the helmet from his forehead, and, with a groan of agony, flung\nit to a measureless distance in the air. In amaze and terror I beheld\nEpiphanes! The same Greek countenance, the same kingly presence, the same\nstrength and heroic stature, and the same despair, were before me that,\nin the early years of my wo, I had seen on the shores of the Dead Sea.\n\n\u201cI told you,\u201d said he, with a sudden return to calmness, \u201cthat this day\nwould come; and to tell you so required no spirit of prophecy. There is a\ntime for all things, long-suffering among the rest; and your countrymen\nhad long ago come to that time. But one grand hope was still to be given;\nthey cast it from them! Ages on ages shall pass before they learn the\nloftiness of that hope or fulfil the punishment of that rejection. Yet,\nin the fulness of time, shall the light break in upon their darkness.\nThey shall ask, Why are we the despised, the branded, the trampled, the\nabjured, of all nations? Why are the barbarian and the civilized alike\nour oppressors? Why do contending faiths join in crushing us alone? Why\ndo realms, distant as the ends of the earth, and diverse as day and\nnight\u2014alike those who have heard our history, and those who have never\nheard of us but as the sad sojourners of the earth\u2014unite in one cry of\nscorn? And what is the universal voice of nature but the voice of the\nKing of nature?\u201d\n\nI listened in reverence to language that pierced my heart with an intense\npower of truth, yet with a pang that made me writhe. I longed, yet\ndreaded, to hear again the searching and lofty accents of this being of\nunwilling wisdom.\n\n\u201cMan of terrible knowledge,\u201d said I, \u201ccanst thou tell for what crime this\njudgment shall come?\u201d\n\nAwe was written upon his mighty brow, and his features quivered as he\nslowly spoke.\n\n\u201cTheir crime? There is no name for it. The spirits of heaven weep when\nthey think of it. The spirits of the abyss tremble. Man alone, the man of\nJudea alone, could commit that horror of horrors.\u201d\n\nHe paused and prostrated himself at the words; then rising, rapidly\nuttered: \u201cJudge of the crime by its punishment. From the beginning,\nIsrael was stubborn, and his stubbornness brought him to sorrow. He\nrebelled, and he was warned by the captivity of a monarch or the\nslaughter of a tribe. He sinned more deeply, for he was the slave of\nimpurity; then was his kingdom divided; yet a few years saw him powerful\nonce more. He sinned more deeply still, for he sought the worship of\nidols. Then came his deeper punishment, in the fall of his throne and the\nlong captivity of his people. But even Babylon sent back the forgiven.\n\n\u201cHappy, I say to you, happy will be the hour for Israel\u2014for mankind, for\ncreation\u2014when he shall take into his hand the records of his fathers,\nand, in tears, ask, What is that greater crime than rebellion? than\nblasphemy? than impurity? than idolatry? which, not seventy years, nor a\nthousand years, of sorrow have seen forgiven; which has prolonged his wo\ninto the old age of the world\u2014which threatens him with a chain not to be\nbroken but by the thunder-stroke that breaks up the universe!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd still,\u201d said I, trembling before the living oracle,\u2014\u201cstill is there\nhope?\u201d\n\n\u201cLook to that mountain,\u201d was the answer, as he pointed to Moriah. Its\nside, covered with the legions advancing to the assault, shone in the\nsun like a tide of burning brass. \u201cIt is now a sight of splendid evil!\u201d\nexclaimed he. \u201cBut upon that mountain shall yet be enthroned a Sovereign\nbefore whom the sun shall hide his head, and at the lifting of whose\nscepter the heaven and the heaven of heavens shall bow down! To that\nmountain shall man, and more than man, crowd for wisdom and happiness.\nFrom that mountain shall light flow to the ends of the universe, and the\ngovernment shall be the Everlasting!\u201d\n\n[Sidenote: The Roar of Assault]\n\nThe roar of the assault began, and my awful companion was recalled to the\nworld.\n\n[Sidenote: In Front of the Sanctuary]\n\n\u201cI must see the end of this battle,\u201d said he, in his old mixture of\nsarcasm and melancholy; \u201cman\u2019s natural talent for making himself\nmiserable may go far, but he is still the better for a teacher. On the\ntop of that hill there are twenty thousand men panting for each other\u2019s\nblood like tigers; and yet without me they would leave the grand business\nundone, after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut one word more,\u201d I cried, giving my last look to the tower of\nAntonia, on which the eagles now glittered.\n\nHe anticipated me.\n\n\u201cAll are safe\u2014they are in the hands of Septimius, who will deal with\nthem in honor. He solicited the command, that he might provide for their\nsecurity. They comfort themselves with the hope that you will return. But\nreturn you never will. They will be happy in the hope\u2014until sorrow is too\nlong shut out to find room when it comes; they love you, and will love\nyou long, but there is an end of all things. And now, farewell!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, onward,\u201d said I. \u201cBut every spot is crowded with the Roman\ncolumns. How am I to pass those spears?\u201d\n\nHe laughed wildly, flung his arm round me, as of old, and ran, with the\nspeed of a stag, round the foot of the hill to an unobstructed side. The\nascent was nearly perpendicular; but he bounded up the crags without\ndrawing a breath, placed me on a battlement, and was gone!\n\n[Sidenote: The Mark of Ruin]\n\nBelow me war raged in its boundless fury. The enemy had forced their way,\nand the exasperated Jews, contemptuous of life, fought them with the rage\nof wild beasts. When the lance was broken, the knife was the weapon; when\nthe knife failed, they tore with their hands and teeth. Masses of stone,\ntorches, even dead bodies, everything that could minister to destruction,\nwere hurled from the roofs on the assailants, who were often repulsed\nwith deadly havoc. But they still made way; the courts of the Gentiles,\nof the Israelites, and of the priests were successively stormed; and the\nlegions at length established themselves in front of the Sanctuary. A\nhowl of wrath, at the possible profanation of the Holy of Holies, rose\nfrom the multitude. I rushed from the battlement, and showing myself\nto the people, demanded \u201cwho would follow me?\u201d The crowd exulted at the\nsight of their well-known chieftain; and in the impulse of the moment\nwe poured on the enemy, and drove them from the court of the Sanctuary.\nStartled by the sudden reverse, the Roman generals renewed their proposal\nfor a surrender, and Titus himself, at the most imminent hazard, forced\nhis way to the portal, and besought me to surrender and save the Temple.\n\nBut Jerusalem was marked for ruin. While I was in the very act of\nchecking the shower of spears, I heard the voice of one of those\nextraordinary beings who, by mad predictions of the certain succor of\nHeaven, kept up the resistance while there was a man to be slaughtered.\nHe was standing on the roof of a vast cloister, surrounded by a crowd of\nunfortunate men, whom his false prophecies were infuriating against the\noffer of life. I recognized the impostor, or the demon, by whom the Roman\nmission had been destroyed. The legionaries pointed in vain to the flames\nalready rising round the cloisters. The predictions grew bolder still,\nand the words of truth were answered by showers of missiles. The flames\nsuddenly burst out through the roof, and the whole of its defenders,\nto the number of thousands, sank into the conflagration. When I looked\nround after the shock, this fearful being, without a touch of fire on his\nraiment, was haranguing in a distant quarter, and whether man or fiend,\nurging the multitude to their fate!\n\nThis was the day of days, the ninth day of the month Ab, the anniversary\nof the burning of the Temple by the king of Babylon. One thousand one\nhundred and thirty years, seven months, and fifteen days were past, from\nits foundation by our great King Solomon! My attack had repelled the\nlegionaries, and Titus, exhausted and dispirited, began to withdraw the\nrouted columns from the front of the Temple. It was the fifth hour; the\nsun was scorching up their strength, and I looked proudly forward to\nvictory and the preservation of the Temple!\n\n[Sidenote: The Enemy\u2014Fire]\n\nAs I was standing on the portal of the court of the Sanctuary, and gazing\nat the rout of the troops toward the tower of Antonia, I heard a voice\nclose to my ear: \u201cI told you that this day would end in nothing without\nme.\u201d I turned, but he was already far away among the crowd; and before I\ncould even speak, I saw him, torch in hand, bound into the Golden window,\nbeside the veil of the Holy Place. The inner Temple was instantly in a\nblaze. Our cries and the sight of the flames brought back the enemy at\nfull speed. I saw that the fatal hour was come, and collecting a few\nbrave men, took my post before the veil, to guard the entrance with my\nblood.\n\nBut the legions rushed onward, crying out that \u201cthey were led by the\nFates,\u201d and that \u201cthe God of the Jews had given His people and city into\ntheir hands.\u201d The torrent was irresistible. Titus rushed in at its head,\nexclaiming, that \u201cthe Divinity alone could have given the stronghold into\nhis power, for it was beyond the hope and strength of man.\u201d My devoted\ncompanions were torn down in an instant. I was forced back to the veil of\nthe Holy of Holies, fighting at random in the midst of the legionaries,\nwho now saw no enemies but each other. In the fury of plunder they\ndeluged the Portico and the Sanctuary with blood.\n\nThe golden table of Pompey, the golden vine, the trophies of Herod, were\ninstantly torn away. Subordination was lost. The troops trampled upon\ntheir officers. Titus himself was saved only by cutting his way through\nthose madmen. But I longed to die, and give my last breath and the last\ndrop of my veins to the seat of Sanctity and Glory. I fought\u2014I taunted\u2014I\nheaped loud scorn on the profaners\u2014I was covered from head to foot with\ngore; but it was from the hearts of Romans\u2014I toiled for death; but I\nremained without a wound. Yet, wo to the life that came within the sweep\nof my simitar. The last blow that I struck was at an impious hand, put\nforth to grasp the veil that shut the Holy of Holies from the human gaze.\nThe hand flew from the body, and the spoiler fell groaning at my feet. He\nsent up an expiring look, and I knew the countenance of my persecutor,\nCestius!\n\n[Sidenote: The Ruin of the Temple]\n\nBut a new enemy had come, conqueror alike of the victor and the\nvanquished\u2014fire.[56] I heard its roar round the sanctuary. The Romans,\nappalled, fled to the portal; but they were doomed. A wall of fire stood\nbefore them. They rushed back, tore down the veil, and the Holy of Holies\nstood open. The blaze melted the plates of the roof in a golden shower\nabove me. It calcined the marble floor; it dissipated in vapor the\ninestimable gems that studded the walls. All who entered lay turned to\nashes. So perish the profaners! But on the sacred Ark the flame had no\npower. It whirled and swept in a red orb round the untouched symbol of\nthe throne of thrones. Still I lived, but I felt my strength giving way:\nthe heat withered my sinews\u2014the flame extinguished my sight.\n\nBleeding, blind, frantic, I still fought until I sank under a heap of\ndead. In defiance of all prediction, I now believed my death inevitable.\nAt once I heard the shouts of the conquerors and the fall of the pillars\nof the Temple. I welcomed the living grave! In all the wildness of the\nuproar I heard the voice: \u201cTARRY THOU TILL I COME!\u201d The world disappeared\nfrom before me!\n\n * * * * *\n\nHere I pause. I had undergone that portion of my unhappy career which was\nto be passed among my people. My life as father, husband, and citizen was\nat an end. Thenceforth I was to be a solitary being.\n\nMy fate had yet scarcely fallen upon me, but I was now to feel it in\nthe disruption of every gentler tie that held me to life. I was to make\nmy couch with the savage, the outcast, and the slave. I was to see the\nruin of the mighty and the overthrow of empires. Yet in the tumult that\nchanged the face of the world, I was still to live and be unchanged.\nEvery sterner passion that disturbs our nature was to reign in successive\ntyranny over my soul. And fearfully was the decree fulfilled.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI heard the shouts of the conquerors, and the fall of the\npillars of the Temple.\u201d\n\n [_see page 532._\n\nCopyright, 1901, by Funk & Wagnalls Company, N. Y. and London.]\n\n[Sidenote: Salathiel the Eternal Wanderer]\n\nIn revenge for the fall of Jerusalem, I traversed the globe to seek out\nan enemy of Rome. I found in the northern snows a man of blood; I stirred\nup the soul of Alaric and led him to the rock of Rome. In revenge for the\ninsults heaped on the Jew by the dotards and dastards of the city of\nConstantine, I sought out an instrument of compendious ruin: I found him\nin the Arabian sands, and poured ambition into the soul of the enthusiast\nof Mecca. In revenge for the pollution of the ruins of the Temple, I\nroused the iron tribes of the West, and at the head of the crusaders\nexpelled the Saracens. I fed full on the revenge, and I felt the misery\nof revenge!\n\nA passion for the mysteries of nature seized me. I toiled with the\nalchemist; I wore away years in perplexities of the schoolmen; and I felt\nthe guilt and emptiness of unlawful knowledge.\n\nA passion for human fame seized me. I drew my sword in the Italian\nwars\u2014triumphed\u2014was a monarch\u2014and learned to curse the hour when I first\ndreamed of fame!\n\nA passion for gold seized me. I felt the gnawing of avarice\u2014the last\ninfirmity of the fallen mind. Wealth came, to my wish and to my torment.\nIn the midst of royal treasures I was poorer than the poorest. Days and\nnights of misery were the gift of avarice. I felt within me the undying\nworm. In my passion I longed for regions where the hand of man had never\nrifled the mine. I found a bold Genoese, and led him to the discovery of\na new world. With its metals I inundated the old, and to my own misery\nadded the misery of two hemispheres!\n\nBut the circle of the passions, a circle of fire, was not to surround\nmy fated steps forever. Calmer and nobler aspirations were to rise in\nmy melancholy heart. I saw the birth of true science, true liberty, and\ntrue wisdom. I lived with Petrarch, among his glorious relics of the\ngenius of Greece and Rome. I stood enraptured beside the easel of Angelo\nand Raphael. I conversed with the merchant kings of the Mediterranean.\nI stood at Mentz beside the wonder-working machine that makes knowledge\nimperishable and sends it with winged speed through the earth. At the\npulpit of the mighty man of Wittenberg I knelt; Israelite as I was, and\nam, I did voluntary homage to the mind of Luther!\n\n[Sidenote: The Future]\n\nBut I must close these thoughts, as wandering as the steps of my\npilgrimage. I have more to tell\u2014strange, magnificent, and sad.\n\nBut I must wait the impulse of my heart. Or, can the happy and the\nhigh-born, treading upon roses, have an ear for the story of the Exile,\nwhose path has for a thousand years been in the brier and the thorn!\n\nFINIS\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\n\n\nANNOTATIONS\n\n\n[1]\u2014page 3. The legend of the Wandering Jew first appeared in the\nthirteenth century, in the chronicle of Matthew of Paris, who professes\nto have received his information from an Armenian bishop to whom the hero\nhad himself communicated the events. According to this version, he was a\nservant in the house of Pilate, named Cartaphilus, and gave Christ a blow\nas He was dragged out of the palace to execution. Another and perhaps\nmore familiar version, probably of the fifteenth century and of German\norigin, states that he was a shoemaker named Ahasuerus. As Jesus bore His\ncross along the _via dolorosa_, staggering with pain and weakness, He\nleaned for a moment against the doorway of the rude shopkeeper, who, with\ncursing and bitterness, ordered him to \u201cgo on.\u201d The sufferer looked upon\nhim and said: \u201cI go, but tarry thou till I come!\u201d From that awful moment\nhe found life a burden and death an impossibility. From time to time he\nwas able to rejoice in gray hairs and a stooping form, but regularly\nthese indications of the end would vanish, and clothed again in the form\nof youth, he felt the look and heard in his soul the dread voice bidding\nhim wander on and on forever. All versions agree touching the verdict of\nChrist, that he should wander on earth till the Second Coming.\n\nIn its deepest import, \u201cthe tradition is simply a wonderful picture of\na people\u2014a people forever suffering and yet undying; forever doomed to\nwander; without a home or any fixed abiding-place; safe nowhere, and yet\nimmortal; trampled and beaten; robbed and persecuted, and yet, strangely,\nliving and flourishing in spite of all. The most vigorous, virile, and\nhealthful people under the sun; the bravest and most enduring in battle\nor siege; the most patriotic and loyal of all peoples, they stedfastly,\nthrough all their wanderings and sorrows, cling to a land which is but a\nmemory or a dream.\u201d\n\nIn this story, Dr. Croly adds to the typical traditions, peculiar\nfeatures of his own. Having such a hold on popular imagination, the\nWandering Jew has figured very largely in fiction, particularly in the\nworks of A. W. Schlegel, Klingemann, B\u00e9ranger, Eugene Sue, Hans Christian\nAndersen, and others.\n\n[2]\u2014page 11. The Mount of Corruption lay to the south of Jerusalem, across\nthe Valley of Hinnom. Its summit looks down upon the spot in connection\nwith which the Jewish ideas of the future life of the wicked were formed.\nThe valley, named, according to Dean Stanley, from \u201csome ancient hero,\nthe son of Hinnom,\u201d is first mentioned in Joshua (xv. 8; xviii. 16),\nin marking out the boundary-line between Judah and Benjamin. Solomon\nerected high places there for Moloch (1 Kings xi. 7), whose horrid rites\nwere revived by later idolatrous kings. Ahaz and Manassah made their\nchildren \u201cpass through the fire\u201d in this valley (2 Kings xvi. 3; 2 Chron.\nxxviii. 3; xxxiii. 6); and the fiendish custom of sacrificing infants\nto the fire-gods seems to have been kept up for some time in Tophet,\nits southeastern extremity (Jer. vii. 31; 2 Kings xxiii. 10). To put\nan end to these abominations, Josiah polluted the place to render it\nceremonially unclean (2 Kings xxiii. 10, 13, 14; 2 Chron. xxxiv. 4, 5),\nand it became the common cesspool of the city, and the laystall where all\nthe solid filth was collected.\n\n[3]\u2014page 16. It is difficult to conceive of the magnificence and the extent\nof the Temple, as rebuilt by Herod, one of the greatest royal builders\nthat ever lived. Edersheim calls it \u201ca palace, a fortress, a sanctuary\nof shining marble and glittering gold.\u201d Of it the Jewish tradition ran:\n\u201cHe that has not seen the Temple of Herod, has never known what beauty\nis.\u201d As the pilgrim ascended the Mount, crested by that symmetrically\nproportioned building, which could hold within its gigantic girdle not\nfewer than 210,000 persons, his wonder might well increase at every step.\nThe Mount itself seemed like an island, abruptly rising from out deep\nvalleys, surrounded by a sea of walls, palaces, streets, and houses, and\ncrowned by a mass of snowy marble and glittering gold, rising terrace\nupon terrace. Altogether it measured a square of about one thousand feet.\n\n[4]\u2014page 16. The High Priest was Caiaphas, before whom Jesus had\njust been on trial. The beginning of the public ministry of Jesus\nwas contemporaneous with the accession of Pontius Pilate to the\nprocuratorship and the appointment of Caiaphas by Pilate to the high\npriesthood. Under the administration of Pilate, Roman rule reached the\ndeepest depths in \u201cvenality, violence, robbery, persecutions, wanton,\nmalicious insults, judicial murders without even the formality of a legal\nprocess, and cruelty.\u201d History records of Caiaphas that he was appointed\nHigh Priest, not because of his piety\u2014the Talmud describes in terrible\nlanguage the \u201cgross self-indulgence, violence, luxury, and even public\nindecency\u201d of the high priests of that day\u2014but because in him was found\n\u201ca sufficiently submissive instrument of Roman tyranny.\u201d The irreverence\nhere displayed is the natural expression of an utterly godless nature,\nand the supernatural events that centered in that crucifixion hour could\nnot have failed to call forth such manifest feelings of horror.\n\n[5]\u2014page 18. The supernatural events mentioned in the narrative\nare recorded by the evangelists, and confirmed by tradition and\ncontemporaneous history, as having occurred in connection with the\nCrucifixion\u2014deep darkness enveloped the earth from the sixth hour to the\nninth hour of the day; the veil of the Temple that shut in the Holy of\nHolies was rent from top to bottom; and a mighty earthquake terrified the\nmultitudes. Lange has well said: \u201cThe moment when Christ, the creative\nPrince, the principle of life to humanity, and the word, expires,\nconvulses the whole physical world.\u201d Dr. Philip Schaff has said: \u201cThe\ndarkness was designed to exhibit the amazement of nature, and of the\nGod of nature, at the wickedness of the Crucifixion of Him who is the\nlight of the world and the sun of righteousness.\u201d The horror from such\ndense darkness is brought out powerfully by Lord Byron in his dream of\n\u201cDarkness.\u201d The extent and character of the Temple-Veil will account for\nthe fact that it produced so profound an impression when it was seen rent\nfrom top to bottom and hanging in two parts from its fastenings above and\nat the side. The Veils before the most Holy Place were sixty feet long,\nand thirty wide, of the thickness of the palm of the hand, and wrought in\nseventy-two squares joined together. They were so heavy that it was said\nthat three hundred priests were needed to manipulate them. The rending\nwas seen to be the work of God\u2019s own hand.\n\n[6]\u2014page 23. The description of the priests and their residences would\nindicate an ideal condition. When the Israelites settled in Canaan,\nJoshua assigned to the priestly families thirteen cities of residence,\nwith \u201csuburbs\u201d or pasture-grounds for their flocks (Josh. xxi. 13-19).\nThe Levites were scattered over all the country, but the cities of the\npriests were all near Jerusalem and embraced within the bounds of Judah,\nSimeon, and Benjamin. When the priests were divided into twenty-four\ncourses, each course officiated a week at a time. The interval of\ntwenty-three weeks, between the successive times of service of a course,\nwas a time for home life and high-priestly pursuits. The opportunities\nfor leisurely culture were undoubtedly very great. In addition to the\nlarge number residing at this time in these priestly cities, who took\ntheir turn in the courses, there were no less than 24,000 stationed\npermanently at Jerusalem, and 12,000 at Jericho; so that it was a\ntradition among the Jews \u201cthat it had never fallen to the lot of any\npriest to offer incense twice.\u201d Their proportion to the number of the\npeople must, therefore, have been much greater than that of the clergy\nhas ever been in any Christian nation. Their leisure and opportunities\nfor culture, especially in the Sacred Books, must have been exceptional.\nThe number of the priestly class was doubtless increased through\nintermarriage with the other tribes. Salathiel was a priest, and hence\na Levite; but he was also connected with the tribe of Naphtali, through\nmarriage of a daughter of that tribe; so that when consciousness returned\nhe found himself being borne, not by his priestly associates to the\ncities of the priests about Jerusalem, but by his tribal kinsmen to the\ndomain of Naphtali under the shadows of Lebanon.\n\n[7]\u2014page 26. Before the Roman conquest, the hatred of the Samaritan for the\nJew made Samaria largely a land of brigands, through which a Jew could\nnot safely travel. To Herod the Great belongs the credit of breaking up\nthis brigandage, so far as it was an organized system. Josephus relates\nthat Herod, after taking Sepphoris, the metropolis of Galilee, \u201chasted\naway to the robbers that were in the caves, who overran a great part of\nthe country, and did as great mischief to its inhabitants as war itself\ncould have done.\u201d He defeated them with a great slaughter, and drove them\nout of the land.\n\n[8]\u2014page 28. The region through which the caravan was passing not only\nbrought them in view of the scenes of many of the greatest events\nin Jewish history, individual and national\u2014Mounts Carmel and Gilboa\nand Tabor and Hermon, and the theater of patriarchal and prophetic\nactivity\u2014but across what has been the battle-field for the armies of the\nworld-empires of three continents as they have crossed and recrossed,\nfrom the days of Abraham down through the Crusades. It is aptly\ndesignated \u201ca living history of Providence.\u201d\n\n[9]\u2014page 33. The \u201cHaphtorah\u201d (Isa. liii.) contains the most graphic\nOld-Testament picture of Jesus as the rejected, suffering atoning\nMessiah. It was this that the Ethiopian eunuch of Queen Candace was\nreading when Philip went up to him in his chariot (Acts viii. 29), and by\nthe explanation of which he was converted to the Christian faith. Through\nits wonderful picture Eleazar seems already to have been led to look upon\nJesus as the Messiah; but his hopes, roused by Salathiel\u2019s renunciation\nof the priesthood, were dashed in finding that the veil was still over\nthe face of the latter, as it was over the many of Israel.\n\n[10]\u2014page 43. Jubal is a typical Israelitish mountaineer, hunter, and\nwarrior in one, combining with a sense of wild freedom a touch of the\nancient Jewish enthusiasm. The incident here narrated gives a glimpse of\nhis deeper nature, and his outburst of patriotic exultation at sight of\nthe grave of the hosts of Sisera was one in which every true Israelite\ncould join.\n\n[11]\u2014page 47. The life of a whole generation is passed in inactivity\nafter the home is made in Naphtali\u2014an inactivity that served to deepen\nthe shadow of his doom and the remorse for his unspeakable crime. In\nthis period the preparation is being made for the final conflict of\nJew with Roman authority, and at the end of it Salathiel is thrust,\nby a malevolent power, into the leadership in that desperate first\nstruggle, described by Josephus, that promised to sweep the Romans from\nJudea. His fate, however, pursues him, and he languishes for years in a\ndungeon\u2014leaving the Jews, now without competent leadership, again under\nRoman control and oppression.\n\n[12]\u2014page 51. Antiochus IV., king of Syria\u2014the son of Antiochus the\nGreat\u2014known in history as Epiphanes the Illustrious, but to many of\nhis contemporaries as Epimanes the Madman\u2014was for ages the chief name\nof horror to the Jews. His father had conquered Palestine, B.C. 203,\nand his brother and predecessor, Saleucus Philopator, had plundered\nthe Temple, and Syria had disputed the control of the land with Egypt.\nEpiphanes conquered Jerusalem, B.C. 169, and held it for three years and\na half. The obstinate resistance of the Jews led to the most dreadful\ndeeds of cruelty recorded in history. Those who adhered to Ptolemy were\nmercilessly butchered. He plundered the city and the Temple. He forbade\nthe Jewish religion, tore up and burned the Sacred Scriptures, put a stop\nto the daily Sacrifice of expiation, and dedicated the Temple to Zeus\nOlympios. He compelled the people to keep their infants uncircumcised,\nand to sacrifice swine\u2019s flesh upon the altar. Kurtz says: \u201cThis was the\nabomination of desolation in the Holy Place, spoken of by Daniel (ch. xi.\n31)\u2014a type of another desolation that still belonged to the future (Matt.\nxxiv. 15)\u201d\u2014before the Second Coming of Christ. Added to all the rest, his\nsystem of unspeakable barbarities and horrible tortures at length drove\nthe people to desperation, and led to the successful uprising and heroic\nstruggle for freedom under Judas the Maccabee\u2014truly God\u2019s hammer\u2014and his\nbrothers (recorded in the Apocryphal books bearing that name). Help\nin understanding the Jewish feeling toward Antiochus may be found in\nJosephus, Prideaux, Edersheim, etc.\n\n[13]\u2014page 61. Eleazar, as he appears in the narrative, is not the real\nname of a historic leader of the Jews at this time. Josephus, indeed,\nspeaks of a certain Jew \u201cwho was called Eleazar, and was born at Saab, in\nGalilee. This man took up a stone of great size, and threw it down from\nthe wall upon the ram, and this with so great a force that it broke off\nthe head of the engine. He also leaped down and took up the head of the\nram from the midst of them, and, without any concern, carried it to the\ntop of the wall, and this, while he stood as a fit mark to be pelted by\nall his enemies.\u201d Disregarding his many wounds, he showed himself a hero\nin other daring exploits, like some of those attributed by the author to\nSalathiel.\n\nJosephus tells also of another Eleazar, who, at the time when the Jews\ntook the fortress of Masada by treachery, was the governor of the Temple.\nHe was the son of Ananias, the High Priest, and was a very bold youth. He\n\u201cpersuaded those that officiated in the divine service to receive no gift\nor sacrifice from any foreigner. And this,\u201d adds Josephus, \u201cwas the true\nbeginning of our war with the Romans; for they rejected the sacrifice of\nC\u00e6sar on this account.\u201d\n\nThe real leader in this early Jewish war was, however, Flavius Josephus,\nthe historian. After the destruction of the army of Cestius Gallus in\nA.D. 66, the patriots precipitated a revolution, and Josephus was sent\nto organize the defense of Galilee. He led in the desperate struggle\nagainst Vespasian, but fell into the hands of the Romans after the fall\nof the stronghold of Jotapata and the subsequent massacre there. He saved\nhimself by predicting the future elevation of Vespasian to the imperial\nthrone. He was present in the Roman army at the destruction of Jerusalem,\nand accompanied Titus to Rome, where he resided for the rest of his life.\nHe was a great leader, and Salathiel in his exploits often seems to\npersonate him.\n\n[14]\u2014page 64. Onias is not brought forward as a historical character, but\nas the representative of a class of Jews who were equally treacherous\nin their dealings with their patriotic countrymen and with the Romans.\nHe appears as one of the marplots of the history\u2014the personification of\nhatred and malice\u2014from this council of war until the final catastrophe,\nwhen he dies by the hand of Jubal. The speech which the writer puts in\nhis mouth was, however, undoubtedly suggested by the remarkable oration,\nrecorded by Josephus (Bk. II., ch. xvi.), which Agrippa (the same\nmentioned in the Acts) addressed to the Jews, in the gallery adjoining\nthe Temple and in the presence of his sister Bernice, who was above in\nthe palace of the Asmoneans, and in which he sought to dissuade the\npeople from going to war with their oppressors. In this speech of Agrippa\nwe have \u201can authentic account of the extent and strength of the Roman\nempire when the Jewish war began,\u201d from which becomes the more apparent\nthe madness that hurried the Jews to their final destruction.\n\n[15]\u2014page 70. In these foreglimpses of national doom, the representative\ncharacter of Salathiel is brought out and the sense of his own personal\ndoom, as the arch-crucifier of Jesus, deepened.\n\n[16]\u2014page 72. It has often been remarked that the selection of Judea as\nthe home of the chosen people bears the marks of divine wisdom. At the\npoint where the three continents of the ancient world meet, surrounded\nby desert, mountain, and sea, broken by rugged ranges and defiles\nimpassable in the face of even a small opposing force, and filled with\na dense population, it was not only unique in character but impregnable\nto foreign foe so long as Israel remained faithful to its covenant with\nJehovah. When the barriers, which at first excluded the people from the\noutside world in their earlier development, were broken down, it became\nthe one place from which all the world was most accessible for the spread\nof the Hebrew Theism and of Christianity.\n\n[17]\u2014page 74. The Year of Jubilee, recurring every fiftieth year, was a\nremarkable feature of the Jewish system. It was inaugurated on the Day\nof Atonement with the blowing of trumpets throughout the land, and by a\nproclamation of universal liberty. Its main provisions were: (1) The soil\nwas left uncultivated and the chance produce was free to all comers.\n(2) Every Israelite recovered his right to the land originally allotted\nto the family to which he belonged, if he, or his ancestor, had parted\nwith it. Houses in walled cities were an exception, altho these were\nredeemable at any time within a full year of the time of sale. (3) All\nIsraelites who had become slaves, either to their own countrymen or to\nresident foreigners, were set free in the Jubilee. Josephus states that\nin his time all debts were remitted in the Year of Jubilee. It was a\nwonderful provision for preventing the accumulation of inordinate wealth\nin the hands of the few, and for relieving and giving new opportunity to\nthose whom misfortune or fault had reduced to poverty. (See Smith\u2019s Bible\nDictionary.)\n\n[18]\u2014page 75. Small as was Judea\u2014no larger than one of our smaller\nStates\u2014it yet has the distinction of embracing within its bounds\nthe temperatures and productions of all climes. Notwithstanding the\ncovenant unfaithfulness of its people and their failure in obedience to\nJehovah, it is still true that it bequeathed to mankind all the forms of\nTheism\u2014Judaism, Christianity, and Mohammedanism\u2014and with and through them\nthe chief enlightening and power-giving influences since operative among\nthe nations. It is not, then, too much to say that, with faithfulness to\nGod and to its unequaled privileges, \u201cJudea might have changed the earth\ninto a paradise.\u201d\n\n[19]\u2014page 79. The elevation of Salathiel to the leadership, as the Prince\nof Naphtali, in the war now decided upon, seems contrary to the natural\norder, as he was a priest and allied to the tribe of Naphtali by marriage\nmerely; but the plea that it was a holy war prevailed, and the superhuman\nqualities that had been manifested in him clearly marked him for the\nposition. The exaltation and exultation were to be simply the prelude to\na sharp recall to a deeper sense of the curse that was upon him, and upon\nall else because of his crime.\n\n[20]\u2014page 84. The blow was a critical one for Judea, depriving it of its\nleader at the moment when that leader was most needed. It likewise dashed\nthe high hopes of the leader and left him a madman, a prey to the wildest\nimagination that swept him through earth and sky, leaving him at last,\nfor periods beyond all counting, the sleepless, conscious, vivid victim\nof misery unspeakable.\n\n[21]\u2014page 93. The grove known as the Cedars of Lebanon consists of about\n400 trees, standing in a depression of the mountain, quite apart from\nall other trees. The trees are about 6,500 feet above the sea, and 3,000\nbelow the summit. About 37 of these are large and old, the 11 or 12 older\nones being of immense size and each spreading itself widely round from\nseveral trunks, and reaching back in time 3,500 and more years\u2014beyond\nSolomon and Abraham. They are naturally looked upon with much reverence\nby the natives of the region as living records of the glory of Solomon.\nThe Maronite patriarch was formerly accustomed to celebrate there the\nfestival of the Transfiguration at an altar of rough stones. In later\nyears a chapel has been erected on the spot. The references of the author\nare to an earlier, and usually idolatrous, worship. Bands of robbers,\nsuch as that described, naturally sought the vicinity of such gatherings.\n\n[22]\u2014page 97. The worship of the robbers at Lebanon illustrates the ease\nwith which the Oriental mind conjoins religion with any form of villainy.\nThis, however, is likely to be a feature of any religion that is a mere\nsuperstition.\n\n[23]\u2014page 103. These Greek Christian hermits, dwelling apart from men in\ntheir rocky cavern, are a fair type of thousands of such bands, driven\nby the terrible persecutions of the Roman Emperor to take refuge in\nthe bowels of the earth. They were often made up of the noblest and\nbest of souls that most readily responded to the call and the ideal of\nChristianity. A similar state continued during much of the time until, in\nthe age of Constantine, the Christians became so numerous as to be able\nto change from a policy of inaction to one of aggressive self-defense.\n\n[24]\u2014page 113. History records the facts of Roman corruption and degeneracy\nduring this period. During the absence of Salathiel, the oppression and\nextortion had maddened the Jews and reached a point beyond endurance.\nThere resulted a succession of partial and premature uprisings. The\nempire everywhere seemed falling into decay, and preparing for\ndissolution; the evils and the evil line of rulers culminated in the\nadministration of Gessius Florus.\n\n[25]\u2014page 133. It was Gessius Florus who, by his barbarity in governing,\nfinally forced the Jews into war. Josephus, contrasting him with Albinus,\npictures Florus as a human monster: \u201cAltho such was the character of\nAlbinus, yet did Gessius Florus, who succeeded him, demonstrate him\nto have been a most excellent person, upon the comparison; for the\nformer did the greatest part of his rogueries in private, and with a\nsort of dissimulation; but Gessius did his unjust actions to the harm\nof the nation after a pompous manner; and as tho he had been sent as\nan executioner to punish condemned malefactors, he omitted no sort of\nrapine, or of vexation; where the case was really pitiable he was most\nbarbarous, and in things of the greatest turpitude he was most impudent.\nNor could any one outdo him in disguising the truth, nor could any one\ncontrive more subtle ways of deceit than he did. He indeed thought it\nbut a petty offense to get money out of simple persons; so he spoiled\nwhole cities and ruined entire bodies of men at once, and did almost\npublicly proclaim it all the country over that they had liberty given\nthem to turn robbers, upon this condition: that he might go shares with\nthem in the spoils they got. Accordingly, this, his greediness of gain,\nwas the occasion that entire toparchies were brought to desolation, and\na great many of the people left their own country and fled into foreign\nprovinces.\u201d\n\n[26]\u2014page 145. In the Prophet Daniel\u2019s vision the Roman world-empire was\nrepresented by iron, which dashed and broke in pieces all else. It is the\nwont to say that Rome had a genius for conquest and empire. Among the\nnations she represented power and law, as Greece represented culture and\nJudea religion. The Roman was lacking in the culture and religion needed\nto refine and control his rugged nature; hence, his drift toward the\nanimal and brutal, and toward the outward show of life. Corruption was\nalready far on its way, and was only delayed for a time by the spread and\nprevalence of the Christian faith.\n\n[27]\u2014page 147. Nero was Emperor from A.D. 54 to A.D. 68. He was a nephew\nof Caligula, and was adopted by Claudius in A.D. 50. Even his own age,\nwhich had borne and nurtured him, regarded him in his later career a\nmonster. He killed those whom he feared, among them his own mother and\nBritannicus, the son of Claudius, and rightful heir to the throne; those\nwho stood in the way of his whims, as his first two wives, Octavia\nand Popp\u00e6a Sabina; and at last he killed everybody who attracted\nhis attention. Under him occurred the insurrection of the Jews, put\ndown by Vespasian, in which Josephus so ably led his countrymen. The\nconflagration in July, 64, in which two-thirds of Rome was destroyed,\nis believed to have been the work of Nero, who is said to have shown\nhis indifference by playing the \u201cSiege of Troy\u201d on his fiddle while\nwatching the flames from a high tower in his palace. He wantonly accused\nthe Christians of setting it on fire, and sentenced them to be clad in\ntarred garments, set on fire, and driven as flaming torches through the\nstreets of Rome. A conspiracy formed against him in A.D. 65 failed, and\nhe sacrificed his old instructor, Seneca, and the philosopher\u2019s nephew,\nthe poet Lucan, the author of \u201cPharsalia\u201d; but one formed in A.D. 68,\nextending over Gaul, Spain, and Rome itself, overwhelmed the tyrant on\nhis return from a journey in Greece, where he had appeared as a singer on\nthe stage, and drove him to despair and to suicide in June of that year.\n\n[28]\u2014page 149. \u201cMarried, but not mated,\u201d could not have been said of Nero,\nat least in the later years of his life. He had early married Octavia,\nthe daughter of Claudius, his adopted father; but afterward became\nenslaved by the charms of a mistress, Acte, a beautiful freedwoman,\nwho was content to be merely the Emperor\u2019s plaything. In the year 58,\nPopp\u00e6a Sabina took the place of Acte. The new favorite was not satisfied,\nhowever, to be merely the plaything of Nero; she was resolved to be\nhis wife. With consummate skill she set herself at once to remove the\nobstacles that stood in her way. By playing upon the passions and\nfears of Nero she accomplished her diabolical purposes. She wrought\nhim up to a passion of hatred against Agrippina, his mother, and she\nwas murdered. The trusted advisers of the Emperor were one by one made\nway with. Octavia, his wife, daughter of Claudius, now long neglected,\nwas divorced, banished, and barbarously murdered. Popp\u00e6a\u2019s triumph was\nnow complete. \u201cShe was formally married to Nero; her head appeared on\nthe coins side by side with his; and her statue appeared in the public\nplaces of Rome.\u201d Her career shows her to have been anything but a \u201cdove\nin a vulture\u2019s talons.\u201d Popp\u00e6a died in the autumn of the year 65, just\nafter the great conflagration, and a little before the great pestilence\nconsequent upon it.\n\n[29]\u2014page 160. The dying appeal of the martyr St. Paul\u2014whose name is\nnot mentioned\u2014is depicted with a delicacy rarely if ever seen in the\npresent-day handling of sacred subjects in secular romances.\n\n[30]\u2014page 173. The account given by the historian Tacitus, in his \u201cAnnals,\u201d\nof the origin of the Christians, of their persecution, and of the\nsatiating of the popular rage, is of peculiar interest as illustrating\nthis narrative. Of the Christians, Tacitus says:\n\n \u201cThis name was derived from one \u2018Christus,\u2019 who was executed\n in the reign of Tiberius by the procurator of Judea, Pontius\n Pilate; and this accursed superstition, for a moment repressed,\n broke forth again, not only through Judea, the source of evil,\n but even through the city, whither all things outrageous and\n shameful flow together and find many adherents. Accordingly\n those were first arrested who confessed, afterward a vast\n number upon their information, who were convicted, not so much\n on the charge of causing the fire, as for their hatred to the\n human race. To their execution there were added such mockeries\n as that they were wrapped in the skins of wild beasts and torn\n in pieces by dogs, or crucified, or set on fire and burnt, when\n daylight ended, as torches by night. Nero lent his own gardens\n for the spectacle, and gave a chariot race, at which he mingled\n freely with the multitude in the garb of a driver or mounted\n on his chariot. As the result of all, a feeling of compassion\n arose for the sufferers, tho guilty and deserving of condign\n punishment, on the ground that they were destroyed not for the\n common good, but to gratify the cruelty of one man.\u201d\n\n[31]\u2014page 187. \u201cUnconquerable fortresses\u201d proclaimed the name and sway of\nHerod the Great. Among these were Essebonitis and Mach\u00e6rus in Per\u00e6a, and\nAlexandreian, Herodion, Hyrcania, and Masada in Southeastern Judea, near\nthe shore of the Dead Sea. According to the description of Masada by\nJosephus:\n\n \u201cThere was a rock not small in circumference, and very high.\n It was encompassed with valleys of such vast depth downward\n that the eye could not reach their bottoms; they were abrupt,\n and such as no animal could walk upon, excepting at two places\n of the rock, where it subsides, in order to afford a passage\n for ascent, tho not without difficulty. Now, of the ways that\n lead to it, one is that from the Lake Asphaltitis, toward\n the sun-rising, and another on the west, where the ascent is\n easier; the one of these ways called the Serpent, as resembling\n that animal in its narrowness and its perpetual windings; for\n it is broken off at the prominent precipice of the rock, and\n returns frequently into itself, and lengthening again by little\n and little, hath much ado to proceed forward; and he that would\n walk along it must first go on one leg, and then on the other;\n there is also nothing but destruction in case your feet slip;\n for on each side there is a vastly deep chasm and precipice,\n sufficient to quell the courage of everybody by the terror it\n infuses into the mind. When, therefore, a man had gone along\n this way for thirty furlongs, the rest is the top of the hill,\n not ending at a small point, but is no other than a plain upon\n the highest part of the mountain. Upon this top of the hill,\n Jonathan, the High Priest, first of all built a fortress and\n called it Masada; after which the rebuilding of this place\n employed the care of King Herod to a great degree.\u201d\n\n[32]\u2014page 233. It was in Masada that Herod the Great, when he fled to Rome\nto appeal to Antony, had left his mother, sister, and children. In later\nyears, after he had been established in the kingdom by order of Rome, he\nrebuilt, strengthened, and beautified the fortress. Soon after Florus,\nby his extortion and cruelty, had driven the Jews to rebellion, history\nrecords that Masada was taken by surprise, and the Roman garrison put to\nthe sword. This is the historical basis of this chapter of the story.\n\n[33]\u2014page 247. Josephus follows his description of the fortress of Masada\nby an account of Herod\u2019s palace, that justifies the description here\ngiven, and reveals the motive of the king in its construction:\n\n \u201cMoreover, he built a palace therein at the western ascent;\n it was within and beneath the walls of the citadel, but\n inclined to its north side. Now the wall of this palace was\n very high and strong, and had at its four corners towers sixty\n cubits high. The furniture, also, of the edifices, and of the\n cloisters, and of the baths, was of great variety and was very\n costly; and these buildings were supported by pillars of single\n stones on every side; the walls also, and the floors of the\n edifices were paved with stones of several colors.\u2026 As for the\n furniture that was within this fortress, it was still more\n wonderful, on account of its splendor and long continuance.\u2026\n There was also found here a large quantity of all sorts of\n weapons of war, which had been treasured up by that king, and\n were sufficient for ten thousand men; there were cast-iron,\n and brass, and tin: which show that he had taken much pains\n to have all things here ready for the greatest occasions; for\n the report goes, how Herod thus prepared this fortress on his\n own account, as a refuge against two kinds of danger: the one\n for fear of the multitude of the Jews, lest they should depose\n him, and restore their former kings to the government; the\n other danger was greater and more terrible, which arose from\n Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, who did not conceal her intentions,\n but spake often to Antony, and desired him to cut off Herod,\n and entreated him to bestow the kingdom of Judea upon her.\n And certainly it is a great wonder that Antony did never\n comply with her commands in this point, as he was so miserably\n enslaved to his passion for her; nor should any one have been\n surprised if she had been gratified in such her request. So the\n fear of these dangers made Herod rebuild Masada, and thereby\n leave it for the finishing stroke of the Romans in this Jewish\n war.\u201d\n\n[34]\u2014page 253. The record of history at the basis of this part of the\nnarrative is, that immediately after the capture of Masada, \u201cManahem\u2014a\nyounger son of the celebrated Judas of Galilee, who had perished in a\nrevolt soon after the exile of Archelaus, leaving to a powerful party the\nwatchword, \u2018We have no king but God,\u2019\u2014proclaimed himself the leader of\nthe zealots and marched upon Jerusalem. The outworks of the palace were\nmined and burned, and the garrison capitulated. The Jews and the troops\nof Agrippa were allowed to depart; the Roman soldiers retired to the\nthree strong towers built by Herod, and all left in the palace were put\nto death. The success was followed by the execution of the High Priest\nAnanias and his brother, who were found hidden in an aqueduct; but these\nand other excesses displeased the people; and when Manahem proceeded\nto assume the royal diadem, he was put to death by the partizans of\nEleazar. In him the insurgents lost the only hope of a competent leader.\nThe Roman soldiers in the towers were soon compelled to surrender on\npromise of their lives; but they had no sooner piled their arms than\nthey were cut to pieces. This baptism of blood, by which the zealots\ncommitted themselves to a war of extermination, which they at the same\ntime deprived of the dignity of a patriotic struggle, was perpetrated on\na Sabbath; and on the same day the Jews of C\u00e6sarea were massacred by the\nGreeks to the number of 20,000. These deeds mark the character of the\nconflict, not only as an insurrection of Judea against the Romans, but as\nan internecine struggle of the Jewish and Greek races in Palestine and\nthe neighboring lands.\u201d\u2014_Philip Smith_, \u201cHistory of the World.\u201d\n\n[35]\u2014page 254. These Mosaic regulations for exemption from war are found in\nDeut. xx. They are unique and peculiar to the Jewish code.\n\n[36]\u2014page 263. The historian records that the capture of Jerusalem brought\ndown the Romans upon the insurgents:\n\n \u201cCestius Gallus, the governor of Syria, set his forces in\n motion, with the forces of Agrippa, who had now openly taken\n the Roman side, and other allies, added to his Roman legions.\n He advanced upon Jerusalem through the pass of Bethhoron,\n at the season of the Feast of Tabernacles, A.D. 66, with an\n army of 25,000 men. Regardless alike of the feast and of the\n Sabbath, the Jews rushed out to meet the enemy on the spot\n consecrated by the victories of Joshua and Judas Maccabeus;\n crushed the Roman van with the slaughter of more than 500 men,\n and with a loss of only 22. A charge of light troops on the\n Jewish rear saved the army of Cestius from destruction, and\n gave him time to entrench his camp, and the Jews were obliged\n to retire to Jerusalem.\u201d Cestius then advanced and encamped at\n Scopus, a mile to the north of the city. After five days of\n irregular attacks, he advanced against the northern wall of\n the Temple and began the work of mining; but, notwithstanding\n encouragements from the factions in the city, he suddenly and\n unaccountably withdrew, and, after a night\u2019s rest on Scopus,\n \u201ccommenced his retreat with the hostile population gathering\n round him at every step, and reached Gabas with loss. Here the\n beasts of burden were killed and the baggage abandoned. As soon\n as the Romans had entered the pass of Bethhoron, they were\n assailed in flank and rear and the passage blocked in front.\n Night alone saved them from utter destruction; and Cestius,\n displaying the standards and leaving 400 men, to make a show of\n defending the empty camp, fled with the remnant of his army,\n pursued by the Jews as far as Antipatris. He lost 5,300 foot\n and 380 horses; and the engines of war, which he had carried up\n for the siege of Jerusalem, became an invaluable help to its\n defense. Having secured this prize, and collected the immense\n booty, the Jews returned to the city with hymns of triumph,\n fancying that the days of the Maccabees had returned, and\n forgetting that the power they had defied wielded the resources\n of the whole civilized world, while they had forfeited the aid\n of Omnipotence.\u201d\u2014_Philip Smith._\n\n[37]\u2014page 276. It was during this interval, in which the Jews were without\ncompetent leadership, that the Romans made and carried forward their\nplans for conquering Judea. The news of the revolt and the defeat of\nCestius reached Nero when he was on his theatrical tour of Greece. He\nat once entrusted Vespasian (afterward Emperor) with the command of all\nthe forces of Syria and the East. Vespasian immediately \u201csent his son\nTitus to Alexandria, to lead the fifteenth legion into Palestine, while\nhe hastened through Asia Minor and Syria, collecting troops and engines\nas he advanced. In the spring of the following year, three legions, with\na large force of allies, were assembled at Ptolemais (Acre). The sense\nof being committed to so great a conflict, and the six-months\u2019 interval\nfor preparation, had restored some order among the still divided Jews.\nThe avowed friends of Rome had either taken refuge with her armies or\nbeen compelled to join the insurgents.\u201d So writes the historian. In the\ninterval the moderate party, who would have been content to acknowledge\nthe supremacy of Rome if their liberties were secured, had, by their\nnumbers and character, obtained the ascendency over the zealots.\n\n[38]\u2014page 280. Jubal appears in this strange manner, after two years\nhad been passed in the dungeon, and rehearses the story of the war.\nThe attack of Vespasian fell first upon Galilee, which lay in his\nway to Jerusalem. The moderate party had placed Joseph, the son of\nMatthias\u2014better known as the author of \u201cJewish Antiquities,\u201d and by his\nRoman name, Flavius Josephus, which he later assumed, as the client of\nVespasian in command in Galilee. His account given in \u201cThe Jewish War\u201d\nproves that the horrors of the conflict in Galilee were not overdrawn\nby Jubal. Josephus, who was undoubtedly possessed of military genius\nof no mean order, was driven at last to stake the fate of Galilee on\nthe defense of Jotapata. Before it Vespasian was wounded, but the\nhill-fortress was finally stormed. The story of the marvelous escape of\nthe Jewish leader and of his recapture is related by himself. He was\nthereafter attached to the suite of Vespasian \u201cin a character between\na prisoner and a companion; and, after acting throughout the war as a\nmediator between his countrymen and the Romans, he was rewarded with a\ngrant of land in Judea, together with a pension and the Roman franchise.\u201d\nSome of the most interesting features in Dr. Croly\u2019s romance would seem\nto have been suggested by experiences in the life of Josephus. The\nhorrors of the war were indescribable. Toward the close of the Galilean\ncampaign, Trajan was despatched by Vespasian to seize Joppa, the only\nport held by the Jews. \u201cHere the unfortunate inhabitants took to their\nships, which were dashed to pieces by a storm, and the few survivors\nkilled by the Romans as they gained the land. At the other captured\ncities (Tiberias, Taricheia, Gamala, Itabyrium, and Gischala) all the\nelder inhabitants were massacred and the younger sold as slaves. Never\nwas a war marked by greater atrocities on both sides than that which now\ndesolated the Holy Land.\u201d\n\n[39]\u2014page 284. The numerous caves, owing to the chalky limestone of which\nthe rocks of Syria and Palestine chiefly consist, are one of the marked\nfeatures of this region. The Scriptures are full of references to them,\nas they were used for dwelling-places, burial-places, places of refuge,\nand other purposes. The bold shores of the Mediterranean, affording as\nthey do so little good harborage, are well suited to furnish caverns,\napproachable from the sea only, in which the robber band is represented\nas holding its orgies.\n\n[40]\u2014page 291. Such a robber group was not uncommon in that age, made up\nas it was of such diverse races and dispositions. The corruption of the\nRoman rule under Nero brought an approach to anarchy in many of the\nprovinces. Owing to the favorable character of its topography and the\nstrange mixture of its population, Palestine, and indeed the whole Syrian\nshore of the Mediterranean, was at the worst in this regard. Robbery, by\nsea and by land, was so widely practised as to gather to itself a degree\nof respectability not usually associated with it. German, Chiote, Syrian,\nArab, Egyptian, and Ethiopian, all develop here in the most marked way,\nunder the influence of over-much wine, their national idiosyncrasies and\ntheir natural quarrelsomeness.\n\n[41]\u2014page 328. This chance meeting with Naomi, the granddaughter of Ananus,\nthe late High Priest, furnishes the key to many of the situations and\nstrange adventures of the closing volume of this romance. It was during\nthe period of Salathiel\u2019s incarceration in the dungeon, and while\nVespasian was pushing on to Jerusalem, that the death of Ananus occurred.\nJosephus represents Ananus, or Annus, as a man who might have saved\nthe nation from destruction. At this time he shared the supreme power\nin Jerusalem, under the Sanhedrin, with Simon, the son of Garion, the\nbravest of the zealots, the moderate party being thus the controlling\npower in the city. Later, however, when the tide of devastation directed\nby Vespasian had entirely swept over Galilee and Perea, the death of\nNero brought a brief respite until Vespasian himself had been chosen\nEmperor. Meanwhile the efforts of Ananus to make preparation for defense\nwere paralyzed by the zealots. The historian relates how \u201cJerusalem\nbecame the refuge and sink of the fugitives from every quarter. Crowds\nbrought fresh confusion, and added to the fatal power of the zealots.\nAt length John of Giscala arrived, with his panting men and horses,\nfrom the fall of the last Galilean fortress. In spite of the tale which\ntheir appearance told, the crafty leader announced that the Romans were\nexhausted, and pointed to the long resistance of the northern cities as\na presage of their failure before Jerusalem. His arrival animated the\nzealots; and the robbers and assassins who had come into the city from\nevery quarter enacted scenes which are only paralleled by the September\nmassacres of Paris in 1792.\u201d Ananus set himself against this sacrilegious\nreign of terror, but the zealots prevailed, and he was put to death,\nand his naked corpse \u201cthrown out to the dogs and vultures, in a land\nwhere it was a sacred custom to bury even the worst malefactors before\nsunset. The moderate party was crushed, and the zealots followed up their\ntriumph, first by a series of massacres, in which, says Josephus, \u2018they\nslaughtered the people like a herd of unclean animals,\u2019 to the number of\n12,000, and then by murders under the form of law.\u201d Faction then ran riot\nas the doomed city awaited the coming of Titus, who succeeded his father\nVespasian, for its final destruction.\n\n[42]\u2014page 347. When Vespasian was made Emperor, he departed for Rome,\nleaving Titus to work the wrath of God upon the doomed city\u2014doomed\nbecause of unfaithfulness to its covenant with Jehovah. Early in the year\n70, Titus, having collected his forces at C\u00e6sarea, moved upon Jerusalem\nwith not less than 80,000 men, arriving before the city when, at the last\nPassover ever celebrated, it was crammed, as Josephus relates, with a\nmillion persons keeping that feast and without any provision having been\nmade for their sustenance. The garrison of the Holy City was made up of\nthree principal factions, as ready to fight with one another as with the\nRoman. Eleazar, the leader of one faction of the zealots, with 2,400\nmen, held the Temple and four strong towers that had been erected at its\ncorners. John of Giscala, leader of a mediating party, had succeeded to\nthe position of Ananus in the Temple courts and the lower city, and with\n6,000 men besieged Eleazar\u2019s forces. Simon, son of Gioras, occupied the\nhill of Zion with 10,000 Jews and 5,000 Idumeans, and confronted both the\nother leaders. Titus found these factions carrying on an incessant fight\nwith one another by means of the war-engines left behind by Cestius in\nhis flight. With such a state of things existing, there could be little\nhope of defense against the conquerors of the world.\n\n[43]\u2014page 353. The Prince arrived after Titus had pushed the siege far on\ntoward completion. The historian records that on the first day of the\nfeast, the Jewish leaders for a moment suspended their mutual hostilities\nto make a combined attack upon the single legion stationed on the Mount\nof Olives. The Romans, at work on their entrenchments, were suddenly\nbeset by hosts that kept pouring out of the city, and were driven back to\nthe summit of the hill; but by a desperate effort they at last succeeded\nin beating them back. On the next day, the second of the feast, the\nfactions renewed the internal conflict, and the party of John gained\npossession of the Temple; and thus the factions were reduced to two.\n\n[44]\u2014page 356. The Christian inhabitants of Jerusalem alone formed an\nexception to the judicial blindness that had fallen upon Israel. Warned\nby the prophecy of Jesus (Luke xxi. 20, 21), they had departed in a\nbody, before the city was surrounded, to Pella, a village of Decapolis,\nbeyond the Jordan.\n\n[45]\u2014page 360. When the siege at length shut in the city, it was no\nlonger possible to furnish the priests or the offerings for the daily\nsacrifice twice a day for the sins of the people; hence when it ceased,\non the 17th of the month Tamuz, the universal horror of a people undone\nexpressing itself in a universal outcry. Concerning the cessation of the\ndaily sacrifice, Whiston, the translator and editor of Josephus, has the\nfollowing note: \u201cThis was a remarkable day indeed, the 17th of Panemus\n(Tamuz), A.D. 70, when, according to Daniel\u2019s prediction, six hundred and\nsix years before, the Romans, in half a week, caused the sacrifice and\noblation to cease (Dan. ix. 27). For from the month of February A.D. 66,\nabout which time Vespasian entered on this war, to this very time, was\njust three years and a half.\u201d\n\n[46]\u2014page 367. The historical record is that, on April 13 A.D. 70,\nwhen Titus advanced in person at the head of six hundred cavalry\nto reconnoiter the city, not a man was to be seen; but as he rode\nincautiously near the wall, he was suddenly surrounded by a multitude\nthat poured out from a gate behind him. Bareheaded and without a\nbreastplate, he forced his way through the hosts with his horse and\nsword, amid a storm of darts that transfixed many of his followers, and,\ntho he escaped unharmed to the camp, the Jews could boast that the first\nact of the siege was C\u00e6sar\u2019s flight.\n\n[47]\u2014page 378. What with faction within and assault from without, the\nwretchedness of Jerusalem at this time had become almost inconceivable.\nThe historian graphically says:\n\n \u201cSoon there was literally a battle for life within the city.\n The weak and the starving had their last morsels of food\n snatched from them by the strong; and the strong were tortured\n and executed because their looks convicted them of having a\n concealed store. \u2018Every kind feeling, love, respect, natural\n affection, was extinct through the all-absorbing want. Wives\n would snatch the last morsel from husbands, children from\n parents, mothers from children; they would intercept even\n their own milk from the lips of their pining babes.\u2019 If we\n are allowed to doubt whether Josephus has exaggerated these\n horrors, we may be sure that his picture of the cruelties of\n his imperial patron is but too true. As the famine became more\n intolerable, so did the measures of Titus to force the people\n to surrender. Wretches who prowled outside the walls during the\n night, to pick up scraps of food, were scourged and crucified,\n sometimes to the number of five hundred at a time, and twisted\n into ludicrous postures by the wantonness of the soldiers; the\n soldiers bade those that desired peace to behold these examples\n of Roman mercy.\u201d\n\n[48]\u2014page 387. It is to the honor of Titus that he made earnest and\nrepeated efforts to save the Temple as well as to prevent its desecration\nby the Jews themselves. After the destruction of Antonia and before his\nfinal assault upon the defenses of the Temple, he made a last experiment\nof clemency. According to the historian, many accepted his offer of\nmercy; and when the rest had fled to Zion and the Temple, he sent to\nJosephus to offer them free egress if they would come out and fight,\nrather than see the sanctuary polluted. His words, uttered in their own\nlanguage, were beginning to make some impression, when his old enemy,\nJohn, sternly interrupted him, declaring that he feared not the taking of\nthe city, for God would protect His own: and Josephus narrowly escaped\ncapture. The captives just admitted to quarter, including many of the\nchief priests, next appeared before the Temple gate to entreat the\nzealots to save the house of God from ruin; but the merciless John, who\nhad already butchered many of their relatives, answered with a shower of\nmissiles, which\u2014says Josephus\u2014strewed the ground with bodies as thickly\nas the places where the slaves were thrown out unburied. Titus himself\npleaded the inconsistency of filling with arms and blood the courts of\nthe Holy Place, nay, even the Holy of Holies, which they had always\nguarded with jealousy. \u201cI call on your gods,\u201d said he, \u201cI call on my\nwhole army\u2014I call on the Jews who are with me\u2014I call on yourselves\u2014to\nwitness that I do not force you to this crime. Come forth, and fight in\nany other place, and no Roman shall violate your sacred edifice.\u201d But the\nzealots, in their judicial blindness, rejected all offers of mercy, and\nwaited for God to save the Temple by miracle.\n\n[49]\u2014page 409. The historian records that the year preceding the final\nrevolt (A.D. 65) was marked by the direst prodigies of impending war and\nof the desolation of the Temple. During a whole year, a comet shaped\nlike a simitar hung over the city, and many an eye-witness testified to\nthe appearance described by Milton:\n\n \u201cAs when, to warn proud cities, war appears\n Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush\n To battle in the clouds; before each van\n Prick forth the airy knights, and couch their spears,\n Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms\n From either end of heaven the welkin burns.\u201d\n\nThose who witnessed the splendid comet of Donati (A.D. 1858) will at once\nbe able to recognize the form of the flaming sword across the sky.\n\n\u201cThe brazen gate of the Temple, which required twenty men to move it on\nits hinges, flew open of its own accord in the dead of night, as if to\nlet in the advancing armies of the heathen.\u201d (See Philip Smith.)\n\n[50]\u2014page 419. The doom of the Holy City had been rendered inevitable by\nthe conduct of the people in forsaking their covenant with Jehovah. The\nEvangelist Luke (xix. 41-44) represents Jesus as pausing as He approached\nthe city, and shedding bitter tears over the remedilessness of the fate\nof the city and people. The passage is of interest on account, not only\nof this weeping, but also of the prophecy so remarkably fulfilled by\nTitus. The words of the Gospel are as follows:\n\n \u201cAnd when he was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over\n it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this\n thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace! but now they\n are hid from thine eyes. For the days shall come upon thee,\n that thine enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass\n thee round, and keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee\n even with the ground, and thy children within thee; and they\n shall not leave in thee one stone upon another, because thou\n knewest not the time of thy visitation.\u201d\n\n[51]\u2014page 428. It will be remembered that when Titus gathered his forces at\nC\u00e6sarea for an advance upon Jerusalem, he drew from Alexandria, Egyptian\nand Ethiopian troops.\n\n[52]\u2014page 446. The loss of life among the Jews during the siege of\nJerusalem was almost incredible. Josephus reckoned it at 1,100,000, a\nnumber not difficult to credit if we remember that \u201cnearly the whole male\npopulation of Judea had been gathered together for the Passover when the\ncity was beleaguered. The prisoners taken in the whole war were 90,000.\u201d\nHad it not been for the Jews of the dispersion, the nation would have\nperished with the city. It was due to the compassion of Titus that a\nmovement that might have destroyed even this remnant was stopped almost\nat its inception. When persecution of the Jews began at Antioch, where\nseveral Jews were put to death for an alleged plot to set fire to the\ncity, from which it would probably have spread over the empire, Titus put\nan end to it by his famous order and rebuke: \u201cThe country of the Jews is\ndestroyed, thither they can not return; it would be hard to allow them no\nhome to retreat to; leave them in peace.\u201d\n\n[53]\u2014page 459. By his Roman prenomen, Titus, is usually known Titus Flavius\nSabinus Vespasianus, the eleventh of the twelve C\u00e6sars, Emperor from 79\nto 81 A.D. He was in some respects one of the most remarkable of the\nC\u00e6sars. \u201cEducated in the imperial court, he was thoroughly trained in\nall elegant accomplishments: he could speak Greek fluently, and could\ncompose verses; he was proficient in music; he could write short-hand,\nand could imitate handwriting so skilfully that he used to say that he\nmight have been a most successful forger. He was very handsome, with a\nfine commanding expression and a vigorous frame, well trained in all\nthe exercises of a soldier.\u201d His long and varied military and executive\nexperience, under the guidance of his father Vespasian and especially\nin the Jewish war, made him a consummate warrior and administrator. For\na time, however, after he became formally associated with his father\nin the government, with the title of C\u00e6sar, and practically controlled\nthe administration during the last nine years of Vespasian\u2019s reign, he\ndeveloped \u201cthe character of being luxurious, self-indulgent, profligate,\nand cruel,\u201d and seemed to have in himself the promise of being a second\nNero. The scandal connecting his name with the shameless beauty\nBerenice, the sister of the Agrippa of the Acts of the Apostles, outraged\npublic opinion at Rome, but ended in his sending her back to the East.\n\nThe death of Vespasian, in 79 A.D., wrought a transformation in Titus,\nand he became known as the \u201clove and delight of mankind.\u201d \u201cHe had the\ntact to make himself liked by all. He seems to have been thoroughly\nkindly and good-natured; he delighted in giving splendid presents, and\nhis memorable saying, \u2018I have lost a day,\u2019 is said to have been uttered\none evening at the dinner-table when he suddenly remembered that he had\nnot bestowed a gift on any one that day.\u201d\n\n[54]\u2014page 467. The fine portrait here drawn of Titus Flavius Vespasianus,\nthe tenth of the Twelve C\u00e6sars, known in history as Vespasian, is in\nstriking contrast with that previously sketched of his son Titus. The\nfather had little of the princely and imposing personality of the\nson. He was a thoroughly able soldier, while simple and frugal in\nhis habits; in short, Tacitus says that \u201cbut for his avarice he was\nequal to the generals of old days.\u201d A better judgment, however, would\nprobably attribute the avarice, with which both Tacitus and Suetonius\nstigmatize him, to \u201can enlightened economy, which, in the disordered\nstate of the Roman finances, was an absolute necessity.\u201d He could be\nabundantly \u201cliberal to impoverished senators and knights, to cities and\ntowns desolated by natural calamity, and especially to men of letters\nand of the professor class, several of whom he pensioned with salaries\nof as much as \u00a3800 a year.\u201d He was a blunt, plain soldier, without\ndistinguished bearing, and perhaps for that very reason a greater\nfavorite with the army and the common people. \u201cBy his own example of\nsimplicity of life he put to shame the luxury and extravagance of the\nRoman nobles, and initiated in many respects a marked improvement in the\ngeneral tone of society,\u201d while devoting much thought to the spread and\npromotion of those intellectual tastes with which he was not personally\nin sympathy.\n\n[55]\u2014page 523. The tragic fate of Sabat is a matter of history, tho the\nstory of the dead bride is a legendary attachment. Josephus tells us that\nhe \u201cwas one Jesus, the son of Ananus, a plebeian and a husbandman, who\nfour years before the war began, and at a time when the city was in very\ngreat peace and prosperity, came to that feast whereon it is our custom\nfor every one to make tabernacles to God in the Temple, and began on a\nsudden to cry aloud: \u2018A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a\nvoice from the four winds, a voice against Jerusalem and the holy house,\na voice against the bridegroom and the bride, and a voice against this\nwhole people.\u2019 This was his cry as he went about by day and by night,\nin all the lanes of the city.\u201d The efforts of the people and even of\nthe Roman procurator to suppress his cry were unavailing; and when the\nscourge was applied, at every stroke of the whip his answer was: \u201cWo,\nwo to Jerusalem!\u201d \u201cThis cry was the loudest at the festivals; and he\ncontinued this ditty for seven years and five months, without growing\nhoarse or being tired therewith, until the very time that he saw his\npresage in earnest fulfilled in our siege, when it ceased; for as he was\ngoing round on the wall, he cried out with his utmost force, \u2018Wo, wo to\nthe city again, and to the people, and to the holy house!\u2019 And just as he\nadded at the last, \u2018Wo, wo to myself also!\u2019 there came a stone out of one\nof the engines, and smote him, and killed him immediately; and, as he was\nuttering the very same presage, he gave up the ghost.\u201d\n\n[56]\u2014page 531. Josephus gives a somewhat detailed account of the final\nstruggle and of the burning of the Temple. After sharp conflict and\nsetting fire to the doors and outer courts of the Temple, Titus retired\ninto the tower of Antonia, and \u201cresolved to storm the Temple the next\nday, early in the morning, with his whole army, and to encamp round about\nthe holy house.\u201d The Jews, however, after a little, attacked the Romans,\nwho drove back those that were quenching the fire in the inner court of\nthe Temple, and those that guarded the holy house, and pursued them as\nfar as the Holy Place itself. The record is that at this time, on the\ntenth day of the month Ab, the day on which it was formerly burned by the\nking of Babylon, \u201cone of the soldiers, without staying for any orders,\nand without any concern or dread upon him at so great an undertaking, and\nbeing hurried on by a certain divine fury, snatched somewhat out of the\nmaterials that were on fire, and being lifted up by another soldier, he\nset fire to a golden window or lattice, through which there was a passage\nto the rooms that were round about the holy house, on the north side of\nit. As the flames went upward, the Jews made a great clamor, such as so\nmighty an affliction required, and ran together to prevent it; and now\nthey spared not their lives any longer, nor suffered anything to restrain\ntheir force, since that holy house was perishing, for whose sake it was\nthat kept guard about it.\u201d\n\nThe utmost efforts of Titus to save the sacred building were utterly\nvain. \u201cThe legionaries either could not or would not hear; they rushed\non, trampling each other down in their furious haste, or, stumbling over\nthe crumbling ruins, perished with the enemy. Each exhorted the other,\nand each hurled his blazing brand into the inner part of the edifice, and\nthen hurried to the work of carnage. The unarmed and defenseless people\nwere slain in thousands; they lay heaped, like sacrifices, round the\naltar; the steps of the Temple ran with streams of blood, which washed\ndown the bodies which lay upon it.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nJESUS OF NAZARETH FROM THE PRESENT JEWISH POINT OF VIEW\n\n\nIn this age and land, Jew and Christian seem destined at last to give\none another the glad hand. The old spirit of misunderstanding and often\nof hate (which to our shame\u2014more to the shame of the Christian than\nof the Jew\u2014has now lasted nearly a score of centuries), in this light\nof noon, now and here, is intolerable. At the dawn of the twentieth\ncentury, antisemitism in America, even the feeblest whisper of it, is an\nanachorism, and an anachronism of the grossest sort.\n\nThat spirit was natural enough with the church of the early ages, for\nthe church, nearly all of it, was simply the pagan tiger baptized, and\nlabels changed, but not the nature of the beast. The Christ that was\npresented to the Jew the Jew did well to hate, for he was a Christ of\nbarbaric cruelty, a monster who drove millions of Jews through fire and\nstarvation, out of the world, and this entire people for ages from their\nhomes and countries. If the Jews had not hated and spit on the very name\nof that Christ, they had been more or less than human.\n\nAmong this people the ties of kinship are especially strong, so that when\na wrong is done to one, no other flame is needed to make the blood of all\nboil. With the million of fires burning to death their martyred brethren,\nquite naturally the air grew too thick with smoke, and their eyes too\nsore with weeping, for them to see any of the beauty of the Cross. Talk\nof the sweetness of that Christ was hideous mockery to them. I too would\njoin with them and spit on such a Christ. But now the smoke is getting\nout of the air, and the Jew, like the rest of us, is beginning to see\nthe real Jesus of the Gospels, and he also, like the rest of us when we\nsee Him aright, can not but respect, admire, love Him\u2014claim Him as one\nof his own people, saying, with Rabbi Henry Berkowitz, of Philadelphia,\nthis Jew, Jesus, \u201cis the greatest, noblest rabbi of them all,\u201d and as the\nfamous Jewish writer, Max Nordau, touchingly says, \u201cHe is one of us.\u201d\n\nYes, we are living in a better land and in a better time. Here both\nChristian and Jew clasp the folds of the same flag and say, Our Country,\nand both look up to the one God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,\nand say, Our Father; and may not both, by and by, look to this Jew, Jesus\nof Nazareth, and say, Our Brother?\n\n * * * * *\n\nWithin the past two years I have written to a number of representative\nJews, residing in different parts of the world, asking the question,\n_WHAT IS THE JEWISH THOUGHT TO-DAY OF JESUS OF NAZARETH?_ The inquiry\nwas accompanied with a copy of the letter from Dr. Kohler, which is here\npublished as the first of the series. There are utterances in some of\nthese published replies that may strike strangely and discordantly on\northodox Christian hearts. It will be well for all such to ponder the\nfollowing letter, here given as prefatory to the other replies. It is\nfrom the pen of Dr. Singer, a well-known Jewish scholar, the originator\nand now the managing editor of the Jewish Encyclopedia:\n\n\nA LETTER FROM ISIDORE SINGER, Ph.D.\n\n\u201cIt has been both a privilege and a pleasure to me to examine in the\noriginal manuscript the letters which are printed on the following\npages. They are all from representative Jewish scholars, theologians,\nhistorians, and philosophers, well and most favorably known in the\nscientific world of Europe and America. Where it has been necessary to\nabbreviate for lack of space, I find that the work has been done in a way\nthat does no injustice to the writer. No one is made to say, by faulty\ntranslation, or abridgment, or otherwise, what he does not intend to say.\nIt is my hope and most ardent desire that these utterances may greatly\nhelp to make known to the Christian world the real heart and mind of my\nbrethren. I am glad to be permitted to add a thought or two of my own.\n\n\u201cI regard Jesus of Nazareth as a Jew of the Jews, one whom all Jewish\npeople are learning to love. His teaching has been an immense service\nto the world in bringing Israel\u2019s God to the knowledge of hundreds of\nmillions of mankind.\n\n\u201cThe great change in Jewish thought concerning Jesus of Nazareth, I can\nnot better illustrate than by this fact:\n\n\u201cWhen I was a boy, had my father, who was a very pious man, heard the\nname of Jesus uttered from the pulpit of our synagog, he and every other\nman in the congregation would have left the building, and the rabbi would\nhave been dismissed at once.\n\n\u201cNow, it is not strange, in many synagogs, to hear sermons preached\neulogistic of this Jesus, and nobody thinks of protesting,\u2014in fact, we\nare all glad to claim Jesus as one of our people.\n\n \u201cISIDORE SINGER.\u201d\n\n_New York, March 25, 1901._\n\n\nLETTERS FROM REPRESENTATIVE JEWS\n\n [Omissions from letters indicated by ellipses have been made\n necessary because of lack of space. In another form, at no\n distant date, it is the expectation that these and similar\n letters will be published in full. No letter from a Jew who\n is known to be a Christian convert is here given; hence those\n portions of letters that discuss the divinity of Christ have\n generally been omitted.]\n\n\nFrom KAUFMANN KOHLER Ph.D., Rabbi of Temple Beth-El, New York:\n\nThe true history of Jesus is so wrapped up in myth, the story of his life\ntold in the gospels so replete with contradictions, that it is rather\ndifficult for the unbiased reader to arrive at the true historical facts.\nStill the beautiful tales about the things that happened around the\nlake of Galilee show that there was a spiritual daybreak in that dark\ncorner of Judea of which official Judaism had failed to take sufficient\ncognizance. \u201cThe stone that the builders rejected has become the\ncornerstone\u201d of a new world.\n\nIt is assumed by entire Christendom that the Jews in rejecting Jesus\nChrist brought upon themselves everlasting doom, the inexorable fate of\nexile, persecution, and hatred. This view is based upon the crucifixion\nstory in the gospel records, which, while shielding the Romans, maligns\nthe Jews, and is incompatible with the simple facts of the Jewish\nlaw, the older Christian tradition, with common sense, and with the\nestablished character of Pontius Pilate, a very tiger in human shape.\nSurely the records of the trial demand a revision.\n\n\u201cDID THE JEWS REJECT CHRIST?\u201d Most assuredly the weird and visionary\nfigure of the dead and rerisen Christ, the crucified Messiah lifted up\nto the clouds there to become a partaker of God\u2019s nature\u2014a metaphysical\nor mythological principle of the cosmos\u2014the Jews did reject. They would\nnot, let it cost what it may, surrender the doctrine of the unity and\nspirituality of God. Jesus, the living man, the teacher and practiser of\nthe tenderest love for God and man, the paragon of piety, humility, and\nself-surrender, whose very failings were born of overflowing goodness\nand sympathy with the afflicted, the Jews had no cause to reject. He\nwas one of the best and truest sons of the synagog. Did he not say, \u201cI\nhave not come to destroy the law, but to fulfil it\u201d? What reason had the\nJews for hating and persecuting him who had nothing of the rigidity of\nthe schoolman, none of the pride of the philosopher and recluse, nor even\nthe implacable zeal of the ancient prophet to excite the popular wrath;\nwho came only to weep with the sorrowing, to lift up the downtrodden, to\nsave and to heal? He was a man of the people; why should the people have\nraised the cry, \u201cCrucify him!\u201d against him whose only object in life was\nto bring home the message of God\u2019s love to the humblest of his children?\nNor, in fact, was he the only one among the popular preachers of the time\nwho in unsparing language and scathing satire exposed and castigated the\nabuses of the ruling priesthood, the worldly Sadducees, as well as the\nhypocrisy and false piety of some of the Pharisean doctors of the law.\nHis whole manner of teaching, the so-called Lord\u2019s Prayer, the Golden\nRule, the code of ethics expounded for the elect ones in the Sermon on\nthe Mount, no less than his miraculous cures, show him to have been one\nof the Essenes, a popular saint.\n\nBut he was more than an ordinary teacher and healer of men. He went to\nthe very core of religion and laid bare the depths of the human soul.\nAs a veritable prophet, Jesus, in such striking manner, disclaimed\nallegiance to any of the Pharisean schools and asked for no authority\nbut that of the living voice within, while passing judgment on the law,\nin order to raise life to a higher standard. He was a bold religious and\nsocial reformer, eager to regenerate Judaism. True, a large number of\nsayings were attributed to the dead master by his disciples which had\nbeen current in the schools. Still, the charm of true originality is felt\nin these utterances of his when the great realities of life, when the\nidea of Sabbath, the principle of purity, the value of a human soul, of\nwoman, even of the abject sinner, are touched upon. None can read these\nparables and verdicts of the Nazarene and not be thrilled with the joy\nof a truth unspelled before. There is wonderful music in the voice which\nstays an angry crowd, saying, \u201cLet him that is without sin cast the first\nstone!\u201d that speaks the words, \u201cBe like children, and you are not far\nfrom the kingdom of God!\u201d\n\n\u201cDID THE JEWS REJECT CHRIST?\u201d Jesus anticipated a reign of perfect love,\nbut centuries of hatred came. Could the Jews, victims of Christian\nintolerance, look with calmness and admiration upon Jesus, in whose name\nall the atrocities were perpetrated? Still, the leading thinkers of\nJudaism willingly recognized that the founder of the Christian Church, as\nwell as that of Islamism, was sent by divine Providence to prepare the\npagan world for the Messianic kingdom of truth and righteousness.\n\nThe Jew of to-day beholds in Jesus an inspiring ideal of matchless\nbeauty. While he lacks the element of stern justice expressed so\nforcibly in the law and in the Old-Testament characters, the firmness\nof self-assertion so necessary to the full development of manhood, all\nthose social qualities which build up the home and society, industry and\nworldly progress, he is the unique exponent of the principle of redeeming\nlove. His name as helper of the poor, as sympathizing friend of the\nfallen, as brother of every fellow sufferer, as lover of man and redeemer\nof woman, has become the inspiration, the symbol, and the watchword for\nthe world\u2019s greatest achievements in the field of benevolence. While\ncontinuing the work of the synagog, the Christian Church with the larger\nmeans at her disposal created those institutions of charity and redeeming\nlove that accomplished wondrous things. The very sign of the cross has\nlent a new meaning, a holier pathos to suffering, sickness, and sin, so\nas to offer new practical solutions for the great problems of evil which\nfill the human heart with new joys of self-sacrificing love.\n\nAll this modern Judaism gladly acknowledges, reclaiming Jesus as one of\nits greatest sons. But it denies that one single man, or one church,\nhowever broad, holds the key to many-sided truth. It waits for the\ntime when all life\u2019s deepest mysteries will have been spelled, and to\nthe ideals of sage and saint that of the seeker of all that is good,\nbeautiful, and true will have been joined; when Jew and Gentile, synagog\nand church, will merge into the Church universal, into the great city of\nhumanity whose name is \u201cGod is there.\u201d\n\n_August 23, 1899._\n\n\nFrom MORITZ FRIEDL\u00c4NDER, Ph.D., author of \u201cPatristische und Talmudische\nStudien,\u201d \u201cDas Judenthum in der vorchristlichen griechischen Welt,\u201d etc.,\nVienna, Austria:\n\n\u2026 The synagog of primitive Christianity was the direct offspring of the\nJewish synagog. Here, too, the center of sublime, divine service which\npowerfully influenced the simple and pious souls, was Moses and the\nprophets, hallowed, in addition, by the splendor of the invisibly ruling\nMessiah.\n\nIn this synagog originated a new Israel, which silently and noiselessly\nprospered beside \u201cthe burden of the law,\u201d which killed the spirit of the\nMosaic doctrine and prepared the ossification and dwarfing of Judaism.\n\nThis synagog was a true house of God, which made all those who entered\nit enthusiastic for a pure Mosaism, whose principal doctrine was the\nlove of God and the love of man. Here every one, through teaching and\nlearning, invigorated himself, and even the most simple-minded visitor\nleft the house as an enthusiastic apostle. In short, it was a synagog to\nwhich, if it existed to-day, all hearts would be drawn and around which\nthe entire enlightened Judaism of to-day would gather. And Jesus himself,\nwho was the starting-point of the synagog of the Messianic community,\nwho fertilized and rejuvenated it by the sublime Messianic idea, was\nproclaimed as divine Redeemer because of this rejuvenation, as well as\nbecause of the redemption undertaken by him, on the Palestinian soil,\nfrom the \u201cunsupportable burdens\u201d which the Pharisee teachers imposed on\nthe people (Matt. xxiii. 4).\n\nAlways higher, on to unapproachableness grew his personality, including\nall that is beautiful, lofty, sublime, and divine, and forcing every one\nto adoration and self-nobilization. This divine \u201cSon of Man\u201d became the\nworld-ideal, and this sublime ideal has been originated in Judaism, which\nwill ever be remembered as having been predestined by Providence to bring\nforth such a creation.\n\n_November 6, 1899._\n\n\nFrom MORRIS JASTROW, Jr., Ph.D., Professor of Semitic Languages,\nUniversity of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa.:\n\nFrom the historic point of view, Jesus is to be regarded as a direct\nsuccessor of the Hebrew prophets. His teachings are synonymous with the\nhighest spiritual aspirations of the human race. Like the prophets,\nhe lays the chief stress upon pure conduct and moral ideas, but he\ngoes beyond the prophets in his absolute indifference to theological\nspeculations and religious rites. It is commonly said that the Jews\nrejected Jesus. They did so in the sense in which they rejected the\nteachings of their earlier prophets, but the question may be pertinently\nasked, Has Christianity accepted Jesus? Neither our social nor our\npolitical system rests upon the principles of love and charity, so\nprominently put forward by Jesus.\n\nThe long hoped-for reconciliation between Judaism and Christianity will\ncome when once the teachings of Jesus shall have become the axioms of\nhuman conduct.\n\n_November 6, 1899._\n\n\nFrom BARON DAVID VON G\u00dcNZBURG, St. Petersburg, Russia:\n\nJesus of Nazareth sought to regenerate the common people of Galilee\nby infusing into them the moral teaching of the academies; and to\nthis end he stripped the religious ideal of its scientific garb.\nUnderstood perfectly by those who listened to him, his simple language,\nnevertheless, proved a stumbling-block for those who had not known him,\nbut who desired, after his death, to commune with his apostles. They\nconstrued current phrases as predicating actual entities, and having\nthus created a certain type of Messiah, it therefore devolved upon\nsucceeding ages, under the influence of controversy and in the ardor of\nreligious polemics, to harmonize at once all the genuine traditions, all\nthe ill-understood and ill-reported addresses made by him, all his noble\naspirations which later generations failed to comprehend, and to bring\nthem all into accord with the ardent faith of new converts as well as\nwith the Bible texts relative to the Messiah.\n\n_September 29, 1899._\n\n\nFrom PROF. DAVID CASTELLI, author of \u201cStoria degli Israeliti,\u201d Florence,\nItaly:\n\n\u2026 Jesus in a certain sense fulfilled in his person the prophecies of the\nOld Testament; they reached in him a height beyond which it is impossible\nto go. He was not the magnificent worldly king, since there could be\nno question of a worldly king in Israel again, for whom the Hebrews\nwaited in vain; but he was the great teacher of mankind, spreading among\nall nations that principle of love and humanity which, until then, had\nremained confined within the limits of Judaism. His word, and after him\nthat of the Apostles, who, like himself, were born and reared in Judaism,\nwere a powerful means of carrying into effect the yet unfulfilled\nprophecy of the Old Testament: \u201cThe Lord will be King of all the earth;\nin that day God will be one and his name one.\u201d\n\n_September 28, 1899._\n\n\nFrom MARCUS JASTROW, Ph.D., Rabbi Emeritus of Rodeph-Shalom Congregation,\nPhiladelphia, Pa., Author of the \u201cDictionary of the Talmud,\u201d etc.:\n\nThe thoughtful Jews of all days, and especially of modern tendency of\nthought, see in Jesus, as depicted in the New Testament, the exponent\nof a part of the ethics of Judaism, and more especially of its milder\nside\u2014love and charity. The ethical sayings of Jesus reflect the\nconception of Judaism in his own period, as it was current among its\nspiritual leaders, such as Hillel, Rabbi Akiba, Ben Zoma, and others.\nTo a heathen world merged in vice and crime, to a civilization that led\nthe thoughtful among Romans and Greeks toward the abyss of pessimism\nand despair, Christianity offered the bright prospect of forgiveness\nand reconciliation with goodness. For the Jews it had no mission, no\nnew gifts to offer. Its ethics appear to the modern Jew one-sided\nand exaggerated; the sense of justice appears to be pushed into the\nbackground in favor of an unrealizable ideal of love.\n\nJudaism prohibits revenge and the bearing of grudge, commands the\nassistance of an enemy in distress, but \u201cto love one\u2019s enemy\u201d appears\nto the modern Jew a somewhat morbid philanthropy that could never have\nbeen seriously meant. To bear indignities with patience, \u201cto be of\nthe insulted and not of the insulters,\u201d is a Jewish principle, but to\noffer the right cheek to him who slaps you on the left, to offer the\nundergarment to him who takes away your cloak\u2014no, we will not and we can\nnot do it. Hence it is that we Jews, of our modern days, speak of Jesus\nwith that respect which all high-minded dreamers of all ages and nations\ninspire, even though we can not accept all their ideas and ideals, and\nare mindful of the fact that it is to noble dreamers that humanity is\nindebted for its most precious possessions.\n\n_September 4, 1899._\n\n\nFrom \u00c9MILE L\u00c9VY, Chief Rabbi, Bayonne, France:\n\nWide as the difference may be in certain essential points between\nChristianity and Judaism, yet the former approaches the latter through\nits origin, and a common basis which is love of God and man. In\nproclaiming the superiority of spirit over matter, and the principle of\nimmortality of the soul and of a future life; in exhorting mankind in a\ntouching and poetical language, ever trying to come nearer the divine\nexample by a charitable, humble, modest, and pure life, Christ has\nrendered immense services to humanity and to the cause of progress and\ncivilization, for he thus spread the Jewish doctrine, which aims at a\ncontinual improvement of the individual and of society, and contributes\nto the preparation of the Messianic era and of the brotherhood of the\nnations.\n\n_October 24, 1899._\n\n\nFrom HENRY BERKOWITZ, D.D., Rabbi of Rodeph Shalom Congregation, Founder\nand Chancellor of the Jewish Chautauqua Society, Philadelphia, Pa.:\n\n\u2026 To me one of the saddest and most tragic facts in history is this,\nthat Jesus, the gentlest and noblest rabbi of them all, should have\nbecome lost to his own people by reason of the conduct of those who\ncalled themselves his followers. In Jesus there is the very flowering of\nJudaism. What pathos, then, in the fact that his own people have been\nmade to shun his very name; that even to-day they speak it with bated\nbreath, because it has been made to them a symbol and a synonym of all\nthat is unjewish, unchristian\u2014irreligious.\u2026\n\n_November 1, 1899._\n\n\nFrom JOSEPH REINACH, Paris, France, formerly Member of the Chamber of\nDeputies, and editor-in-chief of _La R\u00e9publique Fran\u00e7aise_; Secretary to\nGambetta, and editor of Gambetta\u2019s works:\n\n\u2026 The characteristic mark of Jesus\u2019s moral is love, the purest and\nnoblest love that ever existed\u2014love for all human creatures, love for the\npoor, love for the wicked. Love is joy, and love is duty, and love is\nlife. Humanity, since its first day and to its last day, was and will be\nthirsty for love, and Jesus is and will remain one of the highest, if not\nthe highest, type of humanity, because his words, and his legend, and his\npoetry are and will be an eternal source of love.\n\n_November 28, 1899._\n\n\nFrom CESARE LOMBROSO, Professor of Psychiatry and Criminology, University\nof Turin, Italy:\n\nIn my eyes Jesus is one of the greatest geniuses the world has produced,\nbut he was, like all geniuses, somewhat unbalanced, anticipating by\nten centuries the emancipation of the slave, and by twenty centuries\nsocialism and the emancipation of woman. He did not proceed by a precise,\nsystematic demonstration, but through short sentences and by leaps and\nbounds, so that without the downfall of the Temple, and without the\npersecutions of the Christians under Nero, his work would have been lost.\u2026\n\n_September 29, 1899._\n\n\nFrom MAX NORDAU, M.D., critic and philosopher, Paris, France:\n\n\u2026 Jesus is soul of our soul, as he is flesh of our flesh. Who, then,\ncould think of excluding him from the people of Israel? St. Peter will\nremain the only Jew who said of the son of David, \u201cI know not the man.\u201d\nIf the Jews up to the present time have not publicly rendered homage to\nthe sublime moral beauty of the figure of Jesus, it is because their\ntormentors have always persecuted, tortured, assassinated them in his\nname. The Jews have drawn their conclusions from the disciples as to the\nmaster, which was a wrong, a wrong pardonable in the eternal victims of\nthe implacable, cruel hatred of those who called themselves Christians.\nEvery time that a Jew mounted to the sources and contemplated Christ\nalone, without his pretended faithful, he cried, with tenderness and\nadmiration: \u201cPutting aside the Messianic mission, this man is ours. He\nhonors our race and we claim him as we claim the Gospels\u2014flowers of\nJewish literature and only Jewish.\u2026\u201d\n\n\nFrom ISIDORE HARRIS, M.A., Rabbi of West London Synagog of British Jews,\nLondon, England:\n\nIt seems to me that the truest view of Jesus is that which regards him\nas a Jewish reformer of a singularly bold type. In his days, Judaism had\ncome to be overlaid with formalism. The mass of rabbinical laws that in\nthe course of centuries had grown round the Torah of Israel threatened\nto crush out its spirit. Jesus protested against this tendency with all\nthe energy of an enthusiast. Ceremonial can never be anything more than\na means to an end\u2014that end being the realization of the higher life of\ncommunion with God. The rabbinical doctors of the law were inclined to\ntreat it as an end in itself, and this Jesus saw was a mistake. In taking\nup this position, he was simply following in the path that had already\nbeen marked out centuries before by the Hebrew prophets.\n\n_October 17, 1899._\n\n\nFrom JECHESKIEL CARO, Ph.D., Chief Rabbi, Lemberg, Austria:\n\nPrimitive Christianity, as Jesus of Nazareth taught and preached it, is\nnot at all different from the ethical principles of Judaism. He himself\nproclaimed that he did not come to destroy the law. In morality and the\nlove of God and man (Deut. vi. 5; Matt. xxii. 37; Lev. xvii. 18; Matt.\nxxii. 39) are contained the real essence and the categorical imperative\nof religion.\u2026\n\n_October 18, 1899._\n\n\nFrom N. PORGES, Ph.D., Rabbi, Leipsic, Germany:\n\nEven the most conscientious Jew may, without hesitation, recognize that\nin view of the immense effect and success of his life, Jesus has become\na figure of the highest order in the history of religion, and that the\nnoble man, the pure character, the mild heart-winning personality, come\nforth unmistakable even from the mythical cover which surrounds his\nperson. The fact that Jesus was a Jew should, I think, in our eyes,\nrather help than hinder the acknowledgment of his high significance,\nand it is completely incomprehensible to me why a Jew should think and\nspeak about Jesus otherwise than with the highest respect, although we,\nas Jews, repudiate the belief in his Messianic character and his divine\nhumanity with the utmost energy, from innate conviction.\n\n_September 28, 1899._\n\n\nFrom the late JAMES H. HOFFMAN, Founder and first President of the Hebrew\nTechnical Institute, New York City:\n\n\u2026 I revere him (Jesus) for having brought home by his own life and his\nteachings, to the innermost hearts and souls of mankind, of all times, in\nevery station, the eternal truths as first embodied in the Mosaic code\nand proclaimed in undying words by the prophets. I recognize in him the\nblending of the divine and human, the lofty and lowly, showing the path\nfor the dual nature of man, by divine aspirations to gain the victory\nover the earthly life, tending to draw him downward\u2014the Son of God\ntriumphing over the child of the earth.\u2026\n\n_October 6, 1899._\n\n\nFrom ADOLF BRUELL, Ph.D., Editor \u201c_Popul\u00e4r-Wissenschaftliche\nMonatsbl\u00fctter_,\u201d Frankfort-on-the-Main, Germany:\n\n\u2026 In Christianity, as it is represented in the Gospels, the sublime\ndoctrines of Judaism, if we subtract the dogmas, find their most\nbeautiful expression. If we deduct the purely human additions, as well\nin Judaism where they take the form of observances, as in Christianity,\nwhere they crystallize themselves into dogmas, we find that there is no\nreal antagonism between the two. And how could it be otherwise, for did\nnot Jesus stand upon the ground of biblical and prophetical Judaism?\n\n\u2026\n\nThe fact that love, the highest religious principle, has not yet fully\npenetrated Christianity, as is shown by the awful fanaticism of the\nMiddle Ages and the odious anti-Jewish movement of our own time, does not\nalter the fact that Jesus promulgated a sublime doctrine which is in full\nharmony with Judaism, and with which Christianity must be entirely imbued\nbefore it can be seriously called the religion of Christ.\u2026\n\nJudaism and Christianity both have still to go through a process of\npurification as to law and dogma, and only after these separating walls\nhave fallen, will Jews and Christians, and with them all humanity, on\nthe terrain of pure morality and the spirit of the prophets, tender\none another forever the hand of brotherhood in the noble spirit of\nreconciliation.\n\nMeanwhile, it would be appropriate that honest and enthusiastic men might\nform an alliance in order to reconcile Judaism and Christianity, and for\nthis purpose Jesus and the prophets would be rather genial helpers than\ndetractors.\n\n_October 10, 1899._\n\n\nFrom TH\u00c9ODORE REINACH, Ph.D., former President of the Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 des Etudes\nJuives, Paris, France:\n\nAlthough we know very little with certainty concerning the life and\nteachings of Christ, we know enough of him to believe that, in morals\nas well as in theology, he was the heir and continuator of the old\nprophets of Israel. There is no necessary gap between Isaiah and Jesus,\nbut it is the misfortune of both Christianity and Judaism that a gap has\nbeen effected by the infiltration of heathen ideas in the one, and the\nstubborn (only too explainable) reluctance of the other, to admit among\nits prophets one of its greatest sons. I consider it the duty of both\nenlightened Christians and Jews to endeavor to bridge over this gap.\n\n_December 17, 1899._\n\n\nFrom JACOB H. SCHIFF, New York City:\n\nWe Jews honor and revere Jesus of Nazareth as we do our own prophets who\npreceded him. By his martyrdom, his teachings have been emphasized, and\nthese are to this day I believe often better practised by the descendants\nof the race he sprang from than by those who have become the followers of\nChrist in name, but not in spirit, else the prejudice practised by the\nlatter against Jews would not exist.\u2026\n\n_September 5, 1899._\n\n\nFrom M. LAZARUS, Ph.D., late Professor of Philosophy, University of\nBerlin, author of \u201cDie Ethik des Judenthums,\u201d Meran, Austria:\n\n\u2026 I am of the opinion that we should endeavor with all possible zeal to\nobtain an exact understanding of the great personality of Jesus and to\nreclaim him for Judaism.\n\n_January 24, 1901._\n\n\nThe following questions were sent to a number of Jewish scholars, whose\nanswers are tabulated below:\n\nQUESTION 1. Do you agree with Dr. Kohler that there was a spiritual\ndaybreak on the shores of Galilee nineteen centuries ago, which was not\nsufficiently recognized by the official Sanhedrin at that time?\n\nQ. 2. Do you esteem Jesus to have been one \u201csent of God\u201d to reveal the\nFather more clearly to men?\n\nQ. 3. Do you believe that his mission has been of advantage in making\nknown to the Gentile world the God of Abraham?\n\nQ. 4. Do you consider him to have been a Jewish prophet? If so, would you\nindicate in what order he would stand, in your judgment, respecting the\nearlier prophets?\n\nQ. 5. Is there a growing interest among Jews in the study of the sayings\nand life of Jesus?\n\nQ. 6. Is there a growing willingness in Judaism, as says Dr. Kohler, to\nreclaim Jesus as one of her greatest sons?\n\nANSWERS TO QUESTIONS.\n\n ===========+==========+=========+==========+==========+=========+=========\n Name. | Question | Question| Question | Question |Question |Question\n | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6.\n -----------+----------+---------+----------+----------+---------+---------\n I. |Not a | | |Yes. |Only |Yes,\n Zangwill, |daybreak, | | | |among |among\n English |but a | | | |the |some of\n novelist |burst of | | | |liberal |those\n and |sunshine. | | | |thinkers.|thinkers,\n critic. | | | | | |but not\n London, | | | | | |in one\n Eng. | | | | | |or two\n | | | | | |whose\n | | | | | |thinking\n | | | | | |is char-\n | | | | | |acterist-\n | | | | | |ically\n | | | | | |Jewish.\n | | | | | |\n I. L. |I do. |I |Christ |I do not |Yes. |Yes.\n Leucht, | |recognize|intended |consider | |\n Rabbi of | |in him, |to |Jesus a | |\n Touro | |one sent |popularize|Jewish | |\n Synagog, | |by God, |monotheism|prophet | |\n New | |like |among the |in the | |\n Orleans, | |every |heathens, |sense | |\n La. | |man that |and I |your | |\n | |uttereth |believe |question | |\n | |a truth, |that |indicates.| |\n | |is a |Christ- | | |\n | |messenger|ianity | | |\n | |of God. |has been | | |\n | | |a great | | |\n | | |help. | | |\n | | | | | |\n M. |No. |No. |He has |I do not |No. |No.\n Gaster, | | |been of |consider | |\n Chief | | |advantage |him to | |\n Rabbi | | |in making |have been | |\n of the | | |known |a Jewish | |\n Spanish | | |to the |prophet. | |\n and | | |Gentile | | |\n Portuguese | | |world the | | |\n Jews of | | |God of | | |\n England. | | |Abraham. | | |\n London. | | | | | |\n | | | | | |\n G. J. |Yes. |Yes. |Yes. |Yes, |Yes. |Yes.\n Emanuel, | | | |following | |\n Rabbi of | | | |Isaiah, | |\n Birmingham | | | |Jeremiah, | |\n Synagog, | | | |Ezekiel, | |\n Birmingham,| | | |Amos, and | |\n England. | | | |Micah. | |\n | | | | | |\n Max |I do not. |I do |I agree |I do not |There is |The\n Landsberg, | |esteem |with |consider |a growing|Jewish\n Ph.D., | |him to |Maimon- |him to |interest |prejudice\n Rabbi, | |have been|ides, who |have been |among all|against\n Rochester, | |\u201csent of |holds that|a Jewish |men in |the very\n N. Y. | |God\u201d in |Christ- |prophet, |the study|name of\n | |the same |ianity |but a |of com- |Jesus\n | |sense as |and |Jewish |parative |has been\n | |hundreds |Mohammed- |teacher |religion,|caused by\n | |of other |anism have|and |in which |the long\n | |Jewish |aided in |preacher. |the Jews |perse-\n | |teachers.|spreading | |partici- |cution\n | | |the purer | |pate. |of Jews\n | | |God ideas.| | |carried\n | | | | | |on for\n | | | | | |his sake.\n | | | | | |\n Mo\u00efse |Yes, but |In spite |Yes, with-|Jesus may |The |See\n Schwab, |Jesus, |of the |out doubt;|well be, |enlight- |answer\n Librarian |professing|sympathy |his |as Jewish |ened Jews|to\n at Biblio- |doctrines |of the |religious |prophet, |regard |Question\n th\u00e8que |contrary |Jew for |mission |the equal |Jesus as |5.\n Nationale, |to the |the |has |even of |an illus-|\n translator |Sanhedrin,|person- |become the|Isaiah, |trious |\n into |whose |ality of |greatest |and |co-relig-|\n French of |authority |Jesus, |blessing |placed |ionist |\n the Talmud |he |he, |for the |above |and a |\n Yerushalmi,|recognized|worship- |entire |those |disciple |\n Paris, |(Matt. |ing God |world. |other |of the |\n France. |xxiii. 2) |alone, | |Jewish |rabbis; |\n |was |refuses | |prophets |and take |\n |subject |to see in| |whose |consequ- |\n |to the |Jesus a | |spiritual |ently an |\n |severity |son of | |horizon |interest |\n |of the |God, or | |is not so |in the |\n |Mosaic |His envoy| |broad. |study of |\n |law |in a | | |his life |\n |(Deut. |super- | | |and his |\n |xvii. |natural | | |influence|\n |8-14). |sense. | | |on the |\n | | | | |world. |\n -----------+----------+---------+----------+----------+---------+---------\n\n\nFrom SIMON WOLF, LL.D., former Consul of the United States to Egypt,\nVice-President of Order B\u2019ne B\u2019rith, Washington, D. C.:\n\nI have not had the time nor the desire to investigate the alleged\ndivinity of the Christian Savior. I have, however, recognized the\ngreat influence his character and labors have exercised throughout the\nworld. If properly understood and if properly construed, I have no\ndoubt whatsoever that what he aimed at and labored for would prove of\ngreat benefit to every human being. I look upon him, in short, as a\ngreat teacher and reformer, one who aimed at the uplifting of suffering\nhumanity, whose every motive was kindness, mercy, charity, and justice,\nand if his wise teaching and example have not always been followed, the\nblame should not be his, but rather those who have claimed to be his\nfollowers. I have the very highest regard for him as a man who reflects\nin his sayings the divine Spirit, which after all is nothing more or less\nthan a reflex of the Jewish ethics in which he was so well grounded.\n\n_October 9, 1899._\n\n\nFrom H. WEINSTOCK, Sacramento, Cal. Extract from a letter to Dr. K.\nKohler:\n\n [The letter urges reasons why the life and sayings of Jesus\n should be taught in Jewish Sabbath-schools. Dr. Kohler approves\n of the suggestion.]\n\nWith the growing enlightenment and the broadening atmosphere under which\nthe modern Jew lives, the progressive Jew looks upon the Nazarene as one\nof Israel\u2019s great teachers, who has a potent influence on civilization,\nwhose words and deeds have left an undying imprint upon the human mind,\nand have done heroic work toward universalizing the God of Israel and\nthe Bible. This change of sentiment toward Jesus is largely due to the\nintelligent and progressive preaching of our modern rabbis, who seem\nto appreciate the glory Jesus has shed upon the Jewish name, and the\nsplendid work he did in broadening the influence of the Jewish teachings.\nBut, despite all this, the fact remains, that, so far as I know, not one\nJewish Sabbath-school in the land teaches a single word concerning Jesus\nof Nazareth.\n\nTo maintain a continued silence in the Jewish Sabbath-school on Jesus\nwould seem a grave error.\u2026\n\nThe influence of \u201cJesus the Christ\u201d may be diminishing in the rational\nworld, but the influence of \u201cJesus the Man\u201d is increasing daily the world\nover, and no Jewish education can be complete that does not embody within\nit a comprehensive knowledge of Jesus the Jew, his life, his teachings,\nand the causes which led to his death.\u2026\n\nIt would seem to be in the highest interest of the modern Jew and Judaism\nthat the curriculum of at least every reform Jewish Sabbath-school\nshould, from a purely historical standpoint, embrace a simple yet\ncomprehensible history of the life of Jesus, and its wonderful moral\nand religious influence, in order that the rising Jews may be able to\nappreciate better the powerful influence Judaic teachings and the Bible\nhave had upon civilization, and the exalted place given by the world to\none of their teachers and brethren, who lived a purely Jewish life and\ntaught only Jewish precepts.\u2026\n\n_September 26, 1899._\n\n\nFrom GUSTAV GOTTHEIL, Ph.D., Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Emanu-El, New York:\n\nThe keynote of prophetic religion of the Jewish prophets was holiness of\nlife and purity of heart. Love and mercy shown by men, one to another,\nmake up the acceptable worship of the Holy One of Israel. To place the\nMaster of Nazareth by their side can surely be no dishonor to him, nor\ncan it dim the luster of his name. If he has added to their spiritual\nbequests new jewels of religious truth, and spoken words which are words\nof life, because they touch the deepest springs of the human heart, why\nshould we Jews not glory in him? Show us the man, help us to understand\nhis mind, draw from his face the thick veil behind which his personality\nhas been buried for the Jewish life by the heartless zeal of his\nso-called followers, and you will find the Jewish heart as responsive\nto truth and light and love as that of all other nations. The question\nwhether Jesus suffered martyrdom solely for his new teachings or for\nother causes, we will not discuss. The crown of thorns on his head makes\nhim only the more our brother. For to this day it is borne by his people.\nWere he alive to-day, who, think you, would be nearer his heart\u2014the\npersecuted or the persecutors?\n\n_October 24, 1899._\n\n\nFrom EMANUEL WEILL, Rabbi of the Portuguese Congregation, Paris, France:\n\nI do not know the secret of God, but I believe that Jesus and\nChristianity were providential means, useful to the Deity in guiding all\nmen gradually, and by an effort, keeping pace with the mental state of\nthe majority of men from paganism up to the pure and true idea of the\ndivinity.\n\nThe error\u2014one might almost say a fatal one\u2014of Christianity is to believe\nthat it is an end in itself, whereas it is but a step, and as error often\ngenerates evil, Christianity in its evolution toward its end has effected\nside by side much good as well as much harm.\n\nWe Jews await the Christians on God\u2019s appointed day, when, all humanity\nhaving become more enlightened, will rally to the spiritualistic\nprinciple which is that of Judaism, viz.: that of the unity and the\nperfect spirituality of God, in opposition to any incarnation and to any\ntrinitarian idea whatever.\n\nMeanwhile, I think that Jews and Christians, divided on the\nidentification of Jesus with God, but both in accord in acknowledging\nthis God the same for all, consider themselves children of the same\nFather, and thus love one another with brotherly love.\n\n_October 11, 1899._\n\n\nFrom M. KAYSERLING, Ph.D., Rabbi, Budapest, Hungary:\n\nThe Jews rejected Jesus as the Messiah and Redeemer, but they recognized\nhim as \u201cthe extraordinary man\u201d who first showed to the heathen world\nthe way to natural religion and moral perfection. \u201cThe founder of\nChristianity,\u201d says the pious and scholarly Jacob Emden of Altona, who\nlived about the middle of the last century, \u201cwas a twofold benefactor\nto the world, since, on the one hand, he strengthened with all his\nmight the doctrine of Moses and insisted upon its eternal validity;\nand, on the other hand, drew heathens away from idolatry and obligated\nthem to observe the seven Noachian commandments to which he added moral\nteachings. The alliance of the nations in our time can be regarded as an\nalliance to the glory of God, whose aim is to proclaim over all the world\nthat there is only one God who is Master in heaven and on earth; who\nrewards the good and punishes the evil.\u201d\n\nThis is the opinion of the immense majority of the Jews of our epoch\nabout Jesus of Nazareth, \u201cthe extraordinary man.\u201d We all look forward to\nthat sublime end when all human beings, prompted by the love of fellow\nmen, shall recognize God and worship Him in full harmony and glory as the\none only God.\n\n_November 20, 1899._\n\n\nFrom DAVID PHILIPSON, D.D., Professor in Hebrew Union College, Rabbi of\nMound Street Temple, Cincinnati, Ohio:\n\nThere is no backwardness nor hesitancy on the part of modern Jewish\nthought in acknowledging the greatness of the teacher of Nazareth, the\nsweetness of his character, the power of his genius. But, as a matter of\ncourse, we accord him no exceptional position as the flower of humanity,\nthe special incarnation of the Divinity. Judaism holds that every man is\nthe son of God. Jesus was a Jew of the Jews. The orthodox Christianity of\nto-day he would scarcely recognize, as its chief dogmas were unknown to\nhim.\n\n_September 19, 1899._\n\n\nFrom EMIL G. HIRSCH, Ph.D., LL.D., L.H.D., Rabbi of Sinai Congregation,\nProfessor of Rabbinical Literature in Chicago University, Chicago, Ill.:\n\n\u2026 For me Jesus is an historical reality. To understand his work and\ncorrectly to value his mission, one must bear in mind his own time.\nGalilean as he was, he must have grown up under influences making for an\nintense Jewish patriotism.\n\n\u2026 Under close analysis, his precepts will be found to contain nothing\nthat was new. There is scarce an expression credited to him but has its\nanalogon in the well-known sayings of the rabbis. He did not pretend\nto found a new religion. The doctrines he developed were the familiar\ntruths of Israel\u2019s prophetic monotheism. Nor did his ethical proclamation\nsound a note before unknown in the household of the synagogue or in the\nschools. He was in method a wonderfully gifted Haggadist. His originality\nlies in the striking form which he understood to give to the old\nvitalities of his ancestral religion. He moved the heart of the people.\n\n\u2026 The Jews of every shade of religious belief do not regard Jesus in the\nlight of Paul\u2019s theology. But the gospel Jesus, the Jesus who teaches\nso superbly the principles of Jewish ethics, is revered by all the\nliberal expounders of Judaism. His words are studied; the New Testament\nforms a part of Jewish literature. Among the great preceptors that have\nworded the truths of which Judaism is the historical guardian, none, in\nour estimation and esteem, takes precedence of the rabbi of Nazareth.\nTo impute to us suspicious sentiments concerning him does us gross\ninjustice. We know him to be among our greatest and purest.\n\n_January 26, 1901._\n\n\nMEMORANDUM JOTTINGS\n\nHere are some of the jottings which I find on my memorandum pad,\nsuggested by the reading of these Jewish letters\u2014letters which it would\nbe difficult to read without feeling that at last Jew and Christian,\nafter a horrible nightmare of misunderstandings centuries long, are\ncoming to see that after all they are first cousins, if not actually\nbrothers.\n\n1. Right nobly is it in some of these Jewish writers to say that Jesus\nis not to be blamed for those awful persecutions committed for ages\nin His name, and in reverse of His teachings. As He foretold, many\nwere called by His name whom He knew not, and who knew not Him\u2014false\nprophets who came in sheep\u2019s clothing, but were, within, ravening wolves.\nSometimes these wolves tore the Jews, sometimes they tore one another,\nand sometimes they tore the real Christians. But we live, all of us, in\na better time. The glowing sky is not sunset, but is sunrise\u2014sunrise of\na glorious day that is to reveal a far wider brotherhood than the world\never heretofore has known.\n\n2. Jewish friends, \u201cLet the dead past bury its dead.\u201d All the world\nis bound to realize sooner or later that your history has been of\ninestimable advantage to the world. Turn your faces to that rapidly\nadvancing future. The divine reason will appear for all the sorrows of\nthe past ages, for all the persecutions, misapprehensions, including the\nerrors into which you and we have fallen\u2014largely _because_ of these, not\nin spite of them, the Jewish race will arise a purified flame.\n\nLook the future in the face. As Shelley has put it: \u201cThe past is dead,\nand the future alone is living.\u201d Why not, all of us, permit the ashes to\ngrow over the embers of hate, and let the rawness of all wounds, real\nor imaginary, heal over? Distance now gives a wider survey and a juster\nsurvey to both Jew and Christian.\n\nWaste no time in denying hostility to Jesus nineteen hundred years ago.\nWho alive to-day is to be blamed for that any more than for the forty\nyears of rebellion in the wilderness? No more are you to be blamed for\nthe death of Jesus than are we to-day to be blamed for Washington having\nheld slaves, and for the slave auction-block in the Nation\u2019s capital, and\nfor the slave lash a generation ago.\n\n3. The Mosaic system of ceremonies, as seen before the destruction of\nJerusalem, was beautiful. How mournfully are Jewish eyes still fixed upon\nthe broken shell. Friends, lift your eyes and see what came out of that\nshell; see in the boughs above, the singing-bird of the civilization of\nto-day. Claim it all, for God has given it to the world through your\npeople.\n\nFrom the matrix of the Jewish soul sprang Christianity. Heine, the great\nJewish writer of the last century, has wittily put it: Half the civilized\nworld worships a Jew, the other half a Jewess.\n\n4. Come, children of the prophets, your home, for a season at least, is\nin the West, not in the East. Let not your hearts longer be troubled.\nCease dragging about with you that monstrous corpse of memory\u2014the\npersecutions committed against you, no matter how frightfully you have\nbeen misunderstood and wronged.\n\nAbove all let it never be truly said that the Jew has suffered so much,\nand come so far, now only to reap despair and bitterness. There are two\nJewish tendencies to-day, one to cold materialism, the motto of which\nis \u201cmake money, eat, drink, be merry, to-morrow ye die\u201d; the other is\nupward, the path the prophets walked. This latter tendency must be made\nto dominate. The time will come, with many already here, when the Jew\nwill turn again to his sublime mission and say, like Agassiz, \u201cI have not\ntime to make money.\u201d\n\nSurely, the Jew of America is to be a regenerating educational force to\nthe Jews of all the world, and not to the Jews only. It does not yet\nappear fully what he shall be; but in some way it will appear that this\nmass of concentrated human energy will arise above the commercial, the\nmaterial, the sordid, which so dominates much of the so-called Christian\nworld. The Jewish genius is essentially religious. The Jew will again\ncome to himself and find his center, and God will vindicate His purpose\nthrough this wonderful people from Abraham\u2019s time to the present.\n\nThe Jew has grown strong by the law of the survival of the fittest. For\neighteen centuries he has not known what security is, always living\nby his resource of keenest wit\u2014the feeblest dying out. Those who were\nphysically strong enough and mentally clever enough, escaped destruction,\nand these became the parents of the new and stronger generation. Thus the\nlaw of compensation works justice. For ages the Jew was compelled to be a\nmoney-lender as the business of such an one was held to be disreputable\nfor Christians. Thus the Jew mastered the problems of finance, and now\nwhen finance rules the world, the Jew is naturally on the throne. The\nwhirligig of time is twirled by a hand that cares for justice.\n\n5. How unseemly, impossible, that it should prove in the end that they\nwho have been to the world messengers of God, whose feet have been\nbeautiful upon the mountain-tops and who did eat the bread of angels,\nshould now forget their prophets and their God and grovel in materialism,\nand seek to satisfy their hunger with husks. No; this can not be. This\npeople have done too glorious things for humanity, for such an ending.\nThey have in them the nobility that will assert itself. They are born for\ngreat things yet to be; they have been made in large molds. They, like\nthe best of us, have often slipped, but are now coming to themselves. For\none I am glad, and thank God for it.\n\nNow will the Christian Church permit a friendly exhortation: You have\ntried everything to get the Jewish people to understand Jesus of\nNazareth, except one thing, _love_. Try that, for they believe in love;\nand you believe in love. Let both Jew and Christian get on this common\nground, and have respect for the honest convictions of one another, and\nthen both may clasp hands and look into each other\u2019s eyes, and repeat the\nwords uttered alike by Moses and by Jesus:\n\n\u201cTHE LORD OUR GOD IS ONE GOD. AND THOU SHALT LOVE HIM WITH ALL THY\nHEART, AND WITH ALL THY SOUL, AND WITH ALL THY MIGHT.\u201d\n\nThe lightnings from Mount Sinai and the rays of light and heat from Mount\nCalvary are one, and will yet fuse into brotherhood all peoples of the\nearth.\n\n I. K. F.\n\n\n\n\nOTHER TESTIMONY TO JESUS\n\n\nWILLIAM McKINLEY.\n\n[A Letter. Washington, D.C., 1900.]\n\nThe religion which Christ founded has been a mighty influence in the\ncivilization of the human race. If we of to-day owed to it nothing more\nthan this, our debt of appreciation would be incalculable. The doctrine\nof love, purity, and right-living has step by step won its way into the\nheart of mankind, has exalted home and family, and has filled the future\nwith hope and promise.\n\n\nJEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.\n\n[COMPLETE WORKS. (Emilius.) Edinburgh: 1778, vol. ii., pp. 215-218.]\n\nI will confess to you that the majesty of the Scriptures strikes me with\nadmiration, as the purity of the Gospel has its influence on my heart.\nPeruse the works of our philosophers, with all their pomp of diction;\nhow mean, how contemptible are they, compared with the Scriptures! Is it\npossible that the sacred personage whose history they contain should be\nHimself a mere man?\u2026 Where is the man, where the philosopher, who could\nso live and die, without weakness, and without ostentation? When Plato\ndescribes his imaginary righteous man, loaded with all the punishments of\nguilt, yet meriting the highest rewards of virtue, he describes exactly\nthe character of Jesus Christ. The resemblance is so striking that all\nthe Church fathers perceived it.\n\n\nTHOMAS JEFFERSON.\n\n[WORKS. Philadelphia: 1871, vol. iv., p. 479.]\n\nI am a Christian in the only sense in which He [Christ] wishes any one to\nbe: sincerely attracted to His doctrines, in preference to all others;\nascribing to Him every human excellence, and believing He never claimed\nany other.\n\n\nWILLIAM E. GLADSTONE.\n\n[REVIEW OF ECCE HOMO, from GLEANINGS OF PAST YEARS. New York: 1879, vol.\niii., pp. 84, 93.]\n\nThrough the fair gloss of His manhood, we perceive the rich bloom of His\ndivinity. If He is not now without an assailant, at least He is without\na rival. If He be not the Sun of Righteousness, the Friend that gives\nHis life for His friends and that sticketh closer than a brother, the\nunfailing Consoler, the constant Guide, the everlasting Priest and King,\nat least, as all must confess, there is no other to come into His room.\n\n\nJOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.\n\n[CONVERSATIONS WITH ECKERMANN. London: 1874, pp. 567-569.]\n\nIf I am asked whether it is in my nature to pay Him devout reverence,\nI say, certainly. I bow before Him as the divine manifestation of the\nhighest principles of morality.\u2026 Let mental culture go on advancing, let\nthe natural sciences go on gaining in depth and breadth, and the human\nmind expand as it may, it will never go beyond the elevation and moral\nculture of Christianity, as it glistens and shines forth in the Gospel.\u2026\n\n\nRALPH WALDO EMERSON.\n\n[PROSE WORKS. Boston: 1870, vol. i., pp. 69, 70.]\n\nJesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with open eye\nthe mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, ravished with its\nbeauty, He lived in it, and had His being there. Alone in all history, He\nestimated the greatness of man. One man was true to what is in you and\nme. He saw that God incarnated Himself in man, and evermore goes forth\nanew to take possession of His world.\u2026\n\n\nFRAN\u00c7OIS P. G. GUIZOT.\n\n[MEDITATIONS ON THE ESSENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. New York: 1885, p. 320 _et\nseq._]\n\nThe supernatural being and power of Jesus may be disputed; but the\nperfection, the sublimity of His acts and precepts, of His life and\nHis moral law, are incontestable. And in effect, not only are they not\ncontested, but they are admired and celebrated enthusiastically, and\ncomplacently too; it would seem as if it were desired to restore to Jesus\nas man, and man alone, the superiority of which men deprived Him in\nrefusing to see in Him the Godhead.\n\n\nNAPOLEON BONAPARTE.\n\n[JOHN S. C. ABBOTT\u2019S LIFE OF NAPOLEON, vol. ii, p. 612.]\n\nAlexander, C\u00e6sar, Charlemagne, and myself founded empires. But on what\ndid we rest the creations of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ alone\nfounded His empire upon love, and at this hour, millions of men would die\nfor Him.\u2026\n\n This testimony from Napoleon has been much disputed. Dr. Philip\n Schaff, weighing the argument for and against, says that he\n believes that it is authentic in substance.\n\n\nBENJAMIN FRANKLIN.\n\n[LETTER TO PRESIDENT STILES OR YALE COLLEGE, March 9, 1790.]\n\nI think His [Jesus Christ\u2019s] system of morals and religion as He left\nthem to us, the best the world ever saw, or is likely to see.\n\n\nJEAN PAUL RICHTER.\n\n[DAWNINGS FOR GERMANY. Complete Works, pp. 33, 36.]\n\nIt concerns Him who, being the holiest among the mighty, the mightiest\namong the holy, lifted, with His pierced hands, empires off their hinges,\nturned the stream of centuries out of its channel, and still governs the\nages.\n\n\nJOHN STUART MILL.\n\n[THREE ESSAYS ON RELIGION. New York: 1874, pp. 253, 255.]\n\nReligion can not be said to have made a bad choice in pitching on this\nman as the ideal representative and guide of humanity; nor even now would\nit be easy, even for an unbeliever, to find a better translation of the\nrule of virtue from the abstract into the concrete than to endeavor so to\nlive that Christ would approve our life.\n\n\nTHOMAS CARLYLE.\n\n[SARTOR RESARTUS, pp. 155, 158.]\n\nIf thou ask to what length man has carried it in this manner, look on our\ndivinest symbol, Jesus of Nazareth, and His life and His biography, and\nwhat followed therefrom. Higher has the human thought not yet reached:\nthis Christianity and Christendom\u2014a symbol of quite perennial infinite\ncharacter, whose significance will ever demand to be anew inquired into,\nand anew made manifest.\u2026\n\n\nWILLIAM E. LECKY.\n\n[HISTORY OF EUROPEAN MORALS. London: 1869, vol. ii., p. 9.]\n\nIt may be truly said that the simple record of three short years of\nactive life has done more to regenerate and soften mankind than all the\ndisquisitions of philosophers and all the exhortations of moralists. This\nhas, indeed, been the wellspring of whatever is best and purest in the\nChristian life. Amid all the sins and failings, amid all the priestcraft\nand persecution and fanaticism, that have defaced the Church, it has\npreserved, in the character and example of its Founder, an enduring\nprinciple of regeneration.\n\n\nJOSEPH ERNEST RENAN.\n\n[THE LIFE OF JESUS. New York: 1864, pp. 215, 365, 375, 376.]\n\nHe founded the pure worship\u2014of no age, of no clime\u2014which shall be that of\nall lofty souls to the end of time. Not only was His religion that day\n(John iv. 24) the benign religion of humanity, but it was the absolute\nreligion; and if other planets have inhabitants endowed with reason and\nmorality, their religion can not be different from that which Jesus\nproclaimed at Jacob\u2019s well.\u2026\n\nWhatever may be the surprises of the future, Jesus will never be\nsurpassed. His worship will grow young without ceasing; His legend will\ncall forth tears without end; His sufferings will melt the noblest\nhearts; all ages will proclaim that among the sons of men there is none\nborn greater than Jesus.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST\u2014A SUCCINCT HISTORY\n\nBY DANIEL SEELYE GREGORY. D.D., LL.D.\n\n\nThe legend of \u201cThe Wandering Jew,\u201d in its various forms, has its basis in\nthe doctrine of the Second Coming of Christ, or of His personal return to\nthis world. This is true of the form of the legend that underlies Croly\u2019s\nromance, the Lord Himself having given assurance of His return to the\nhero of the work and the arch-plotter, in the words of doom: \u201cTarry thou\ntill I come!\u201d The doctrine of the Second Coming has been accepted by the\nChristian Church and embodied in its creeds in all ages.\n\nThe Second Advent finds its analog in many respects in the First Advent,\nand that, not in its facts only, but in its difficulties as well.\nAccording to the Old Testament, a great Redeemer was to appear; he was\nto be a prophet, priest, and king, and was to deliver his people from\ntheir sins and from their oppressors; he was to set up a kingdom that\nshould become universal, absorbing all earthly kingdoms; and he was to\nexalt his people to the summit of prosperity and glory. These predictions\nturned the minds of the whole Jewish race toward the future, in confident\nexpectation of the coming Messiah, in whose birth and career they all\nanticipated their fulfilment. Nevertheless, tho Christ came indeed\nfulfilling prophecy, it was \u201cin a way which no man did anticipate or\ncould have anticipated.\u201d\n\nSo the main features of the Second Advent have been prophetically\npresented with like fulness, and yet, as of old, the Church has had to\nremain \u201csatisfied with the great truths which those prophecies unfold,\nand leave the details to be explained by the event.\u201d\n\nThe many theories of the Second Coming of Christ and of the millennium\u2014or\nthe thousand years\u2019 reign of Christ at the end of time, as connecting\nwith that coming\u2014may be reduced to two, one based upon the literal and\nthe other upon the spiritual interpretation of the Scriptures on this\nsubject.\n\n1st. The _literal_, or _Chiliastic_, notion of the millennium, as held\nby some Christians, was derived from the Jews, and was largely confined\noriginally to the converts from Judaism to Christianity. The Jewish\ndoctrine received its peculiar form from Rabbi Elias, who lived about\ntwo centuries before the Christian era. According to this ante-Jewish\ntradition:\n\n\u201cThe world is to last seven thousand years\u2014six thousand to be years of\ntoil and trouble, and the seventh thousand to be a grand SABBATISM. It\nis to be ushered in by the advent of the Messiah, who is to establish\nhis throne at Jerusalem. The Holy City is to be rebuilt with surpassing\nmagnificence, as described by Tobit (xiii., xiv.); the Jews are to return\nto Palestine; their pious ancestors are to be raised from the dead and\nreign in their own land, with their offspring, under the Messiah\u201d (see T.\nO. Summers, in Johnson\u2019s \u201cUniversal Cyclopedia,\u201d article \u201cMillennium\u201d).\n\n * * * * *\n\nSome of the early Christians\u2014like the early Jews, pressed with\npersecutions and longing for temporal deliverance\u2014adopted this literal\nview, except that they modified it by recognizing Jesus as the true\nMessiah, and by acknowledging the equality of Gentile with Jewish\nbelievers in the millennial age. The Thessalonian Christians, in\nparticular, early developed a tendency to the literal, Chiliastic\ninterpretation, which was, however, checked and corrected by Paul\u2019s\nletters to them.\n\nBut the first teacher who is clearly recorded as having adopted the\ncrude Jewish notion was Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis, in Phrygia;\naltho Cerinthus, a heretic of the first century, is said to have held\nit. According to Iren\u00e6us, Papias pretended to have received a glowing\ntradition direct from the Apostle John embodying and enlarging all the\nJewish literalism.\n\nIn part it is to this effect: \u201cThe days shall come in which there shall\nbe vines which shall severally have ten thousand branches, and every one\nof these shall have ten thousand lesser branches, and every one of these\nbranches shall have ten thousand twigs, and every one of these twigs\nshall have ten thousand clusters of grapes, and in every one of these\nclusters shall be ten thousand grapes, and every one of these grapes\nbeing pressed shall give twenty-five _metretas_ of wine; and when a\nperson shall take hold of one of these sacred bunches, another shall cry\nout, \u2018I am a better bunch, take me, and by me bless the Lord.\u2019\u201d\n\nIren\u00e6us reports similar fanciful traditions respecting extraordinary\ntemporal blessings during the millennial period. Papias taught that\nChrist\u2019s reign on earth should be corporeal. In the main, Justin Martyr,\nIren\u00e6us, Tertullian, Nepos, and Lactantius agree with Papias, teaching\nthe Christians under their instruction these views, each varying the\ndetails according to his own fancy.\n\nThe disciples of Papias and their successors naturally pressed into their\nservice Rev. xx. 1-10, interpreting it with the baldest literalness.\n\nThe same method has been used by the later followers, who have largely\nheld to a literal, corporeal reign of Christ on earth for a thousand\nyears. There has often been coupled with this view\u2014growing out of\nChrist\u2019s teaching of the IMMINENCY of his Second Coming\u2014a belief in the\nIMMEDIACY of that Coming.\n\n2d. The usual or _Catholic_ theory of the millennium has its basis in the\nspiritual, rather than literal, interpretation of the Scriptures on this\nsubject. It rejects alike Jewish traditions and Patristic fancies.\n\nAccording to this view, the number 1,000 is often employed in the\nScriptures as \u201cdenoting a definite number for an indefinite.\u201d It is so\nused manifestly in Psalm xc. 4, in 2 Peter iii. 8, and in Rev. xx. 1-7.\nIn the last passage, as has been often remarked, it is \u201cevidently a\ndefinite number for an indefinite,\u201d indicating a long period. The entire\npassage is figurative, in keeping with the enigmatical book in which it\nis found. The angel with the key of the abyss, a chain and a seal to bind\nand confine the devil, thrones and the souls of martyrs seated upon them,\nand judgment given to them\u2014these are all \u201cpictorial representations of\nthe circumscription of Satan\u2019s power, the revival of the martyr spirit\nin the Church, and the general prevalence of truth and righteousness\nin the earth. This agrees with the figurative style of the Apocalypse,\nand corresponds with the predictions concerning the prosperity of the\nChurch in the last days. In no other place is there any allusion to a\nmillennium.\u201d\n\nThis interpretation, it is held, is agreeable to the style of prophecy,\nthat is elsewhere employed in the Revelation (compare Isa. xxvi. 19;\nEzek. xxxvii. 13, 14; Hos. vi. 2; Rev. xi. 7, 11). This spiritual\nview also agrees with the paracletal work of Christ, while the\nJudaico-Christian does not; it is favorable to the efforts of the Church\nfor the conversion of the world, and accords with the general teachings\nof the Scriptures concerning \u201cthe last things.\u201d\n\nBut while the literal method has been to some extent followed, there\nhas been a common or _Catholic_ Church-doctrine which, as will be seen,\nhas alone been embodied in the creeds of Christendom. That _common_,\n_creedal_, or _Catholic doctrine_ embraces the teachings that\u2014\n\n1st. The Second Advent of Jesus is to be a personal, visible, and\nglorious advent as the Son of God.\n\n2d. It is to be preceded by the universal diffusion of the Gospel, the\nconversion of the Jews and the coming of Antichrist.\n\n3d. It is to be accompanied by the resurrection of the dead, just and\nunjust, the general judgment, the end of the world, and the consummation\nof Christ\u2019s kingdom.\n\nThe cardinal passages of Scripture on this doctrine are _Matthew xxiv._\nand _the two Epistles to the Thessalonians_\u2014the latter of which was\napparently rendered necessary by the development of the teachings in the\nformer. It is not possible to enter here into a detailed interpretation\nof these passages. Had there been no extraneous influences at work,\nwhat is claimed to be the simple and natural interpretation of these\nScriptures, which has always been in accord with the Catholic doctrine\nembodied in the creeds, would probably have continued to be the faith of\nall Christians.\n\nThe later-Jewish doctrine of the Messianic kingdom upon earth was a main\ninfluence in directing the new development. The disciples being Jews were\nnaturally infected with this view, and did not rise above it till after\nthe experiences of Pentecost.\n\nMillenarianism or Chiliasm naturally arose out of sympathy with this\nJewish materialism, and spread to some extent among the Jewish\nChristians in the early Church. There was also introduced the doctrine\nof _two resurrections_, based on the literal understanding of Rev.\nxx., unmodified by the teachings of Jesus in Matt, xxiv. With the\nSecond Advent of Christ, according to this view, is to take place the\nfirst resurrection, that of the righteous dead at that time. Then is\nto follow a personal, corporeal reign of Christ for a thousand years\u2014a\nmillennium\u2014upon the renovated earth. At the close of this millennial\nperiod, the second resurrection, that of the righteous and the wicked, is\nto occur, and the end of the world.\n\nAs already hinted, this doctrine at first started and became prevalent\namong the Jewish, as distinguished from the Gentile, Christians.\nPersecutions arising from time to time, and the distressed conditions\nresulting from governmental opposition have, however, extended to the\nGentile Christians belief in the corporeal features of Chiliasm. They\nhave likewise resulted at various times in an earnest longing for the\n_immediate_ return of Christ, in an expectation of His _immediate setting\nup of His kingdom_ in the place of the earthly kingdoms, and in belief in\nthe _imminence of His advent_.\n\nThe conflict between the earlier and Catholic doctrine and this\nChiliastic outgrowth may readily be traced in the history of the Church.\nIt appeared in its full development, first of all, early in the apostolic\nage, in connection with the Church at Thessalonica. The two earliest of\nthe Pauline Epistles\u2014supposed to have been written in A.D. 52 and 53\u2014are\nlargely taken up with the exhibition and refutation of the departures\nfrom the Catholic doctrine on this subject.\n\nAfter their experience at Philippi, Paul and Silas passed on through\nAmphipolis and Apollonia to Thessalonica. This city\u2014now called in\nslightly changed form Salonica\u2014was a great maritime city and the capital\nof the first division of Macedonia, and it always had a large Jewish\npopulation. As Antioch was the natural center for Christian work in Asia\nMinor, so Thessalonica was one of the best strategic points\u2014if not the\nbest\u2014for beginning the conquest of Europe. This was recognized by Paul\nhimself, who, inspired with the great purpose of making the empire of\nChrist coterminous with that of Rome, wrote, only a few months after\nleaving Thessalonica (1 Thess. i. 8), that \u201cfrom them the word of the\nLord had sounded forth like a trumpet, not only in Macedonia and Achaia,\nbut _in every place_.\u201d\n\nThe preaching that led to the expulsion of Paul and Silas from the city\n(see Acts xvii. 1-10) furnishes the key to the Epistles written a little\nlater. It was the doctrine of the _Kingdom of God_. The accusation\nbrought against them was that they were proclaiming _another King_ than\nC\u00e6sar (Acts xvii. 7). In writing to them Paul accordingly reminds them\nof his exhortations and entreaties, that they should \u201cwalk worthy of\nGod who called them to his _Kingdom_ and Glory\u201d (1 Thess. ii. 12), and\naddresses them as those who had \u201csuffered affliction for the sake of that\n_Kingdom_\u201d (2 Thess. i. 5). Christ\u2019s _Second Coming_ had evidently been a\nchief topic of Paul\u2019s preaching to them.\n\nThe brevity of the Apostle\u2019s stay in the city gave little opportunity\nfor instructing and grounding the Christians, chiefly Gentiles, in the\nChristian system; but they appear to have continued stedfast in the\nfaith in the severe persecutions and afflictions that followed (1 Thess.\nii. 14; iii. 3; 2 Thess. i. 4). Nevertheless there were some peculiar\naspects of the doctrine of the Second Coming toward which their trials\nseemed naturally to push them. Looking upon it as the glorious _coming of\nthe Lord for deliverance_ (1 Thess. i. 10), some came to believe in the\n_imminency_, if not the _immediacy_, of the Second Advent; and so gave up\nlaboring for their own support, became burdensome to the brethren, and\nencouraged irregularities by their mode of life. Moreover, there arose\na perplexity about the case of those who should fall asleep before the\nSecond Coming.\n\nThis state of things led Paul, toward the close of 53 A.D., to write\nfrom Athens his _First Epistle_ to the Thessalonians, to give specific\ninstruction regarding these points. His main theme is the _consolation\nfrom the hope of the Second Coming of the Lord_. The leading words in the\nEpistle (as in 2 Thessalonians) are _Parousia_ (advent, or appearing) and\n_Affliction_. The prominence in it of the coming of the Lord is shown\nby the fact that each chapter rises to and rests in that Coming as its\nconclusion (see ch. i. 10; ii. 20; iii. 13; iv. 17, 18; v. 23).\n\nThe _Second Epistle_ was written to the Thessalonians in A.D. 53, from\nCorinth. The former letter had produced salutary results, on which the\nApostle congratulates them; but their manifold tribulations on account of\nthe faith had caused the opinion that the Lord\u2019s coming would take place\nimmediately, to gain ground rapidly among them. This hope was fostered\nby some among them who claimed to have the \u201cspirit of prophecy,\u201d and it\nwas also thought to be favored by Paul\u2019s own teachings (2 Thess. ii.\n2). In consequence of this, the habits of idleness and irregularity had\nincreased. Moreover, the false Jewish teachers were beginning to lead the\nThessalonian Christians to look upon \u201cthe Day of the Lord,\u201d according to\nthe Old-Testament view (Isa. xiii.; Joel ii.; Amos v. 18), as _a Day of\nJudgment_, rather than of deliverance and glory. The aim of the _Second\nEpistle_ is to meet the new needs that had arisen.\n\nIt will be seen from this outline view that the Epistles to the\nThessalonians bear a relation to the Second Advent of Christ similar to\nthat of the Book of Daniel to his First Advent. They were the guidebook\nfor that age and for the Church of the after-ages. In conjunction with\nthe teaching of our Lord Himself in Matt. xxiv., their instructions and\ndirections would appear to be sufficiently full and explicit. For the\ntime being the Chiliastic views seem to have disappeared from the Church,\nand the Catholic doctrine to have held full sway.\n\nA new development of Chiliasm took place toward the close of the second\ncentury. It resulted from the persecuting hand of the government being\nlaid heavily upon the Church.\n\nIt is not necessary here to enter into the causes of the persecutions\nby the Romans. It is enough to note that the ideas of religious freedom\nin the modern world are quite alien to those of the ancient world. There\nwere none but state religions and national gods. Cicero lays down as the\nfundamental maxim of legislation in ancient Romanism, that \u201cno man shall\nhave for himself particular gods of his own; no man shall worship by\nhimself any new or foreign gods, unless they are recognized by the public\nlaws.\u201d And so Christianity came necessarily into collision with the laws\nof the state.\n\nThe bloody persecutions, from the last half of the second century onward,\nwere the inevitable outcome of this natural and essential antagonism;\nbut even in the opening half of the second century the Christians were\nsubjected to sore trials such as those from which the Thessalonians\nsuffered. In passing through these, their minds seem to have turned\nagain, says Neander, to \u201cthe idea of the millennial reign, which the\nMessiah was to set up on earth.\u2026 In the midst of persecutions, it was a\nsolace and support to the Christians to anticipate that even upon this\nearth, the scene of their sufferings, the Church was destined to triumph\nin its perfected and glorified state.\u201d In some regions this view took on\na more spiritual form; while in others, as in Phrygia, the natural home\nof a sensual, enthusiastic religious spirit, \u201cChiliasm appeared in its\ncrass and grossly conceived form in which the earthly Jewish mind had\ndepicted it.\u201d\n\nAmong the Apostolic Fathers, in the second century, the doctrine appears\nin the writings of Barnabas, Hernias, and Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis,\nonly, the last named teaching it in its grossest form. As Dr. Shedd has\nsaid (\u201cHistory of Christian Doctrine,\u201d vol. ii., p. 390): \u201cThere are\nno traces of Chiliasm in the writings of Clement of Rome, Ignatius,\nPolycarp, Tatian, Athenagorus, and Theophilus of Antioch.\u201d He adds: \u201cThe\ninference from these facts, then, is that this tenet was not the received\nfaith of the Church certainly down to the year 150. It was held only by\nindividuals.\u201d Among the really masterful scholars, ecclesiastics, and\ntheologians, it had not a single advocate. That it was not the faith of\nthe Apostolic Church is further evident from the fact that it was not\nembodied in the so-called Apostles\u2019 Creed, which is \u201cundoubtedly the\nsubstance of the short confessions of faith which the catechumens of the\nApostolic Church were accustomed to make upon entering the Church.\u201d\n\nThe period from 150 A.D. to 250 has been called \u201cthe blooming age\nof Millenarianism.\u201d It was in this period of bitter and increased\npersecution that Iren\u00e6us and Tertullian came forward as its advocates,\ngiving glowing descriptions of the millennial reign. \u201cAntichrist,\ntogether with all the nations that side with him, will be destroyed. All\nearthly empires, and the Roman in particular, will be overthrown. Christ\nwill appear, and will reign a thousand years, in corporeal presence on\nearth, in Jerusalem, which will be rebuilt and made the capital of His\nkingdom. The patriarchs, prophets, and all the pious, will be raised from\nthe dead, and share in the felicity of this kingdom. The New Jerusalem\nis depicted in the most splendid colors\u201d (Shedd, \u201cHistory of Christian\nDoctrine,\u201d vol. ii.. p. 390).\n\nBut even Iren\u00e6us and Tertullian, in presenting \u201cbrief synoptical\nstatements of the authorized faith of the Church,\u201d in their writings\nagainst heretics, make no mention of the Millenarian tenet as belonging\nto that faith.\n\nThe third century, chiefly in its first half, witnessed the strenuous\ndiscussion that seems practically to have brought to an end, for the time\nat least, the tendency in the Church to accept the Chiliastic doctrine.\nThis was conducted in the Alexandrian School, under the lead of three\ngreat teachers, Clement of Alexandria, Origen his pupil, and Dionysius\nthe pupil of Origen. They did not reject the Apocalypse, but addressed\nthemselves to opposing the grossly literal interpretations put upon it by\nthe Chiliasts.\n\nThe method adopted by Bishop Dionysius of Alexandria is of peculiar\ninterest, as showing what may be accomplished by candid Christian\ndiscussion. Neander gives a somewhat detailed account of his course\n(\u201cChurch History,\u201d vol. i., p. 452). Nepos, a pious Egyptian bishop\nbelonging to the region of Arsino\u00eb, and who was a devoted friend of the\nsensual Chiliasm, wrote a book against the Alexandrian school, entitled\n\u201cA Refutation of the Allegorists.\u201d \u201cThe book seems to have found great\nfavor with the clergy and laity in the above-mentioned district. Great\nmysteries and disclosures of future events were supposed to be found\nhere; and many engaged with more zeal in the study of the book and theory\nof Nepos than in that of the Bible and its doctrines.\u201d So zealous did his\ndisciples become for this tenet that they brought the charge of heresy\nagainst all who refused to accept it. Whole churches separated themselves\nfrom their communion with the mother-church at Alexandria. After the\ndeath of Nepos, a country priest, Coracion, took the leadership of this\nparty.\n\nNeander gives an interesting account of the way in which, by instruction\nand discussion, the good and wise Bishop of Alexandria, Dionysius, led\nCoracion back to the faith. This happened in the year 255.\n\n\u201cHaving restored the unity of faith among his own churches,\u201d Dionysius\nwrote his work on the Promises, for the instruction of the churches.\nBy the opening of the fourth century Chiliasm seems to have almost\ndisappeared from the Church, as is shown by the statements of Eusebius,\nthe church historian. Describing the writings of Papias, Eusebius\nremarks that they contain \u201cmatters rather too fabulous,\u201d among which\nhe enumerates the opinion of Papias that \u201cthere would be a certain\nmillennium after the resurrection, and that there would be a corporeal\nreign of Christ on this very earth.\u201d The return to the Catholic doctrine\non the subject seems therefore to have been quite general before the year\n400.\n\nThe history of the Chiliastic doctrine from the opening of the fifth\ncentury may be briefly summarized, since its manifestations have been\nonly sporadic and temporary.\n\nAs the tenth century drew to a close there arose \u201can undefined fear and\nexpectation among the masses that the year 1000 would witness the advent\nof the Lord,\u201d but this passed away with the century.\n\nAt the time of the Reformation, the doctrine was revived by the fanatical\nAnabaptists, M\u00fcnzer and his followers, who attempted to put down all\ntemporal sovereignty and to establish the kingdom of the saints with fire\nand sword. They were, however, vigorously opposed by Luther, Melancthon,\nCalvin, and the other great reformers, and their military forces were\ndefeated and crushed and their leaders slain at M\u00fchlhausen in 1525 and\nat Munster in 1535. Leading symbols of the Reformation period strongly\ncondemn Chiliasm, _e.g._, the Augsburg Confession, the Belgic Confession,\nand the English Confession of Edward VI.\n\nThe history of the doctrine during the nineteenth century is well\nsummarized by Dr. Shedd:\n\n \u201cDuring the present century, individual minds in England and\n America, and upon the Continent of Europe, have attempted\n to revive the theory\u2014in some instances in union with an\n intelligent and earnest orthodoxy, in others in connection\n with an uneducated and somewhat fanatical pietism. The first\n class is represented by Delitzsch and Auberlen in Germany, and\n by Cumming, Elliott, and Bonar in Great Britain; the second\n class by the so-called Adventists and Millerites in the United\n States.\u201d\n\nThe Millerite movement, started in 1831 by William Miller, an American,\nwho predicted that Christ\u2019s Second Coming and the end of the world would\ntake place in 1843, received what was practically its death-blow in the\nfailure of the prediction to meet with accomplishment at the appointed\ntime. Substantially the same classes of people are, however, to be\nfound among the Adventists, or Second Adventists, of the present time,\nincluding a considerable number of immigrant foreigners, especially\nScandinavians. Some of these hold to the doctrine of the annihilation of\nthe wicked and to that of the sleep of the dead until the resurrection.\nThe approach of the twentieth century seems to have given an impulse to\nthe Adventist movement, altho it has not changed the character or quality\nof its advocates.\n\nThe survey thus made of the history of the Church, ancient, medieval,\nand modern, brings out the fact that the _Catholic_ doctrine, as already\noutlined, has always been the Church doctrine. The _Chiliastic_ views\nbased upon the literal interpretation of the Scriptures bearing upon the\nsubject have never been generally accepted. The facts, as summarized by\nDr. Shedd (\u201cHistory of Christian Doctrine,\u201d vol. ii., p. 398), are as\nfollows:\n\n\u201c1. That Millenarianism was never the ecumenical faith of the Church and\nnever entered as an article into any of the creeds.\n\n\u201c2. That Millenarianism has been the opinion of individuals and parties\nonly\u2014some of whom have stood in agreement with the Catholic faith, and\nsome in opposition to it.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nREASONS FOR THE BELIEF THAT CHRIST MAY COME WITHIN THE NEXT TWENTY YEARS\n\nBy ARTHUR T. PIERSON, D.D.\n\n\nIs the day of Christ near at hand?\n\nThis question is attracting much attention as this new century begins,\nand wise men are watching for the morning star, which is the herald of\nthe new dawn.\n\nImminence is a word used for the union of the _certainty of an event\nwith the uncertainty of its time_. One text suffices to show that such\nimminence is, in the Scripture, characteristic of the Lord\u2019s return:\n\u201cBe ye also ready; for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of Man\ncometh\u201d (Matt, xxiv. 44). Such an exhortation excludes mere argument.\nThe certainty of the event is assured, for \u201cthe Son of Man cometh;\u201d the\nuncertainty of the time is conceded, for it is \u201cin an hour that ye think\nnot\u201d or as verse 36 adds, \u201cof that day and hour knoweth no man.\u201d\n\nIn a broader sense, the word imminent is used to express the idea\nthat the event is _impending_\u2014nigh at hand. True, it may be unwise to\nattempt to fix the very \u201cday and hour,\u201d since these are declared to lie\namong the divine secrets. Yet it may be both possible and proper to\nobserve carefully the signs which are to precede or accompany Christ\u2019s\nreappearing, and even the mistakes of those who have made erroneous\ncalculations as to the time may serve only to narrow the circle within\nwhich the truth is to be found. We shall therefore inquire briefly\nwhether there is any reason to look for the speedy reappearing of the\nSon of Man, and, without committing ourselves to all the opinions which\nfollow, we may state the grounds on which such conclusions have been\nreached by many devout students of the subject.\n\nThe appeal must, of course, be to the Holy Oracles, if we are to get any\nsafe response. Seven signs hinted at in the Word of God may be selected,\nas prominent:\n\n(1) A widespread witness to Christ, with (2) a widespread decline in\ngodliness. (3) A marked movement among the Jews, with (4) the fulness\nof the Gentiles. (5) A singularly unresting state of society, with (6)\na daring development of iniquity and (7) a confident sense of false\nsecurity. These seven indications must be studied in the light of seven\nconspicuous passages of Scripture, such as Matt, xxiv., Luke xxi., Rom.\nxi., 2 Thess. ii., 2 Peter iii., 2 Tim. iii., and Jude.\n\nIt may be well to add that, if such conclusion hung upon any one of these\nsigns alone, it might be more than doubtful; but, when all these unite,\nthey serve as far safer guides; as a cable may be unbreakable, any one of\nwhose separate strands would easily part under severe tension.\n\nThoughtful observers of events, who are at the same time prayerful\nstudents of Scripture, have come to feel that there is a manifold and\nremarkable preparation for the \u201cParousia\u201d or personal coming of Christ;\nand that the existing state of both the church and the world seems to\ndemand His coming as the only solution of the problems of prophecy and of\nhistory.\n\nThe present drift of society is toward _anarchy_, a drift that has been\npeculiarly rapid during the last quarter-century. Socialism, communism,\nnihilism, and the hot battle between capital and labor, monopoly and\npoverty, are the dominant facts and forces in this war, now being waged,\nwith increasing violence and desperateness, against all government.\nThere is also a strong drift in the church toward _apostasy_. Witness\nthe advance of Romanism, ritualism, and rationalism, even in Protestant\nchurches and communities. In society at large there is a corresponding\nadvance of materialism, agnosticism, and infidelity; and the polite\ndisguises of science, culture, and criticism do not hide the true\nfeatures and forms which they clothe, but can not conceal.\n\nWho can fail to see the trend of the Jews toward national rehabilitation\nand the colonization of Palestine, while at the same time the church is\nfettered by secularism on the one hand and skepticism on the other? Side\nby side with these signs there is the opening of the world to the Gospel,\nthe world-wide circulation of the Bible in over four hundred tongues, the\nnetwork of missionary societies wrapping the globe, and the uprising of\nChristian young men and women in an unparalleled crusade of missions. All\nthese are like fingers all pointing in one direction\u2014the Sunrise of the\nAges.\n\nMany other Scriptures, besides those already cited, startle us from our\napathy, especially when we compare them. Take, for example, Matt, xiii.\nand Rev. ii.-iii. The seven parables in the former and the seven letters\nto the churches in the latter appear to correspond chronologically.\nIn Matthew, the last scene shows the _dragnet_\u2014the obvious metaphor\nfor world-wide evangelization. In the Apocalypse, the last rebuke\nis to _Laodicea_\u2014the self-deceived and self-sufficient church, that\nshuts in worldliness and shuts out Christ. When in history did those\ntwo conditions ever meet as they do now? On one hand a wealthy,\nself-satisfied, lukewarm Christianity, and on the other a casting of\nthe Gospel net into the world sea, and gathering of every kind of fish!\nFor the first time in this gospel age, ecclesiastical degeneracy and\nevangelistic activity curiously blending\u2014fulfilling before our eyes our\nLord\u2019s paradox\u2014world-wide witness side by side with love waxing cold!\n\nOne remark may be added as to the \u201ctimes of the Gentiles.\u201d\n\nThere is a remarkable consensus of opinion that it is from\nNebuchadnezzar\u2014the world king and head of gold\u2014that the \u201ctimes of the\ngentiles\u201d date. His time was about 600 B.C. If the \u201cseven times\u201d or seven\nyears, of Dan. iv. 25, represent, as is supposed, seven periods of 360\nyears each (or seven times twelve months of thirty year-days), then the\nfull seven times from Nebuchadnezzar to the end would be 2,520 years,\nand reckoning from 600 B.C. this brings us to 1920 A.D., or thereabouts.\nThese 2,520 years appear to be divided into two exactly equal periods of\n1,260 years each, or \u201cforty and two months,\u201d or \u201ca time, times and half\na time\u201d (_i.e._, three and a half of these prophetic years) (Rev. xi. 2,\n3., and xii. 14).\n\nAs to the filling up of the 1,260 days of the latter half, the historic\ncorrespondences are so remarkable that at least ten different methods of\ncomputation seem to point to the same precise period\u2014an interval of time\nlying somewhere between 1880 and 1920, the uncertainty of the exact time\nof the end resulting from the difficulty of fixing the exact date of the\nbeginning. But it is this convergence of prophetic and historic times at\nsome point within these forty years which has awakened such a widespread\ninterest in the imminence of our Lord\u2019s coming. And, surely, as our Lord\nhas taught us, if it behooves us to observe the signs of the weather, we\nshould not be indifferent to the signs on God\u2019s greater horizon, which to\nwatchful souls indicate the approach of the day of the Lord (Matt. xvi.\n1-3).\n\nUpon the ten different methods of computation referred to above, it\nmay be well to expand a little, without committing oneself to the\npositions taken. No one, however, can appreciate the argument, whatever\nbe its worth, who does not understand the _numerical system_ which\nmanifestly pervades the whole Word of God, and which constitutes a sort\nof mathematical framework upon which the whole written Revelation is\nconstructed; and not only so, but this same numerical structure pervades\nalso all the works of God in Creation, and all the workings of God in\nhuman history. Astronomy, chemistry, botany, biology, theology, all obey\none mathematical law, and it must be a prejudiced mind that refuses to\nrecognize this fact. The orbits of the planets and the spiral course of\nthe leaf-buds on the trees, the proportions and dimensions of crystals,\nthe octaves of sound and of color\u2014these and many other operations, forces\nand forms of nature conform to strict mathematical laws. From Sirius down\nto the invisible atom there is a uniform system, and it tells of the\none Designer and Creator. Once let this fact be admitted and it becomes\nno novelty to us to find evidences of similar mathematical precision in\nthe periods of history. Let us, therefore, in conclusion, glance at the\nvarious positions taken by devout students of history and prophecy, and\nimpartially survey the outlook from their points of view.\n\n1. The first method of computation, already referred to, as fixing the\npresent period as approximately \u201cthe time of the end\u201d is known as \u201cthe\ntimes of the Gentiles,\u201d seven times, or years, each consisting of 360\nyear-days, or a sum-total of 2,620 years. Of this period, Professor\nTotten, of New Haven, following the lead of the British Chronological\nAssociation, says:\n\n\u201cNabopolassar shook off the yoke of Assyria, and, by thus assuming the\ncrown of Babylon, commenced the \u2018times of the Gentiles.\u2019 His accession\ntook place in the seventh civil (first sacred) month of the year\n3377 A.M. The \u2018times of the Gentiles\u2019 therefore ran out 2,520 years\nthereafter, or in March, 5897 A.M. (A.D. 1899).\u201d\n\nThus by another method of computing the times of the Gentiles, he arrives\nat the present period as at least the beginning of the end.\n\n\u201cJoshua\u2019s Long Day was the last day in broad prophetic chronology which\nis to be wholly counted as _solar_ time. Since that day, the millenaries\nhave been \u2018shortened\u2019 to _lunar_ years. The sum of the 2,555\u00bc+ \u2018long\u2019 or\nsolar years up to that day, and the 3,444\u00be+ \u2018shortened\u2019 or lunar years,\nfrom thence to the vernal equinox of 1899 A.D., is exactly 6,000, and\naccurately terminates the sixth millennary since creation.\u201d\n\n2. Secondly, the _Sabbatic system_, impressed on the whole face of\nScripture history, affords, as many think, a very obvious key to the\ndivine chronology. This Sabbatic system reaches back to Eden and\ncharacterizes the whole annals of the world. There was first consecrated\nthe seventh _day_, then the seventh _week_, then the seventh _month_,\nthen the seventh _year_, then the seventh _seven_ of years\u2014introducing\nthe \u201cjubilee\u201d\u2014then the seventh _seventy_ of years, the Grand Jubilee.\nThis number 7 \u00d7 70, or 490, appears in at least two conspicuous places,\n1 Kings vi. 1, where, adding the ten years of the temple building to the\n480, between the exodus and the beginning of the work, we have 490; and,\nin Daniel ix. 24, where again the seven sevens reappear, as the sacred\ntypical number, between the exodus from the captivity and the building\nof the new spiritual temple of God under the Messiah. This number 490 is\ndoubly a type of completeness: it is not only the product of 7 multiplied\nby 70, but of 7 times 7 (49), the interval from jubilee to jubilee,\nmultiplied by 10\u2014another sacred number. These jubilee periods must be\nobviously reckoned from the time of _Moses_, when the law of the jubilee\nfirst appears. And, counting the exodus from 2515 A.M., the full seven\nperiods of 490, or 3,430 years, would bring us to 5945 A.M., or somewhere\nthis side of the middle of the next century as its extreme limit; and, if\nthe years are to be reckoned by the _prophetic-year_ standard of 360 days\n(twelve equal months of thirty days each) the limit would be somewhere\nabout 1898, so that by this method again the \u201cbeginning of the end\u201d has\nalready come.\n\n3. A third method of computation, \u201c_The Millennial Standard_,\u201d is thought\nto point to the same approximate terminus. \u201cOne day is with the Lord as a\nthousand years and a thousand years as one day\u201d (2 Peter iii. 8). This is\nregarded by many as another not very obscure hint as to God\u2019s chronology,\nand they therefore reason that the predicted millennium or thousand years\nof Sabbatic rest, crowning the six millenniums of a world\u2019s toil, can not\nbe far off.\n\n4. The fourth method of computation is \u201c_the historical_.\u201d The number\n1,260 (\u201cforty-two months,\u201d \u201ca time, times, and half a time\u201d) is as we\nhave already seen, conspicuous both in Daniel and in Revelation.\n\nThose who accept the \u201chistorical\u201d method of interpreting the Apocalypse\nbelieve that the beast and the false prophet represent the Papacy and\nMohammedanism, or the crucifix and the crescent. They maintain that it is\na curious fact, to say the least, that both these systems date from the\nperiod between 606 and 620 (the decree of Phocas and the first Hegira) as\nthe _terminus a quo_, and, adding 1,260, they reach again a _terminus ad\nquem_ somewhere between 1866 and 1886 as \u201cthe beginning of the end\u201d of\nthese systems, as world powers or kingdoms.\n\n5. A fifth mode of computation is that of the \u201c_Antichrist Period_.\u201d The\nnumber, 666, is divinely given as the number of the _lawless one_ (\u1f41\n\u1f00\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, \u1f41 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2) who is to be revealed in the last week of years. This\nnumber, thus inseparably linked with the man of sin, in whom personally\nall the Antichristian systems of history are to \u201chead up,\u201d is thought\nby many to stand for the period of the race\u2019s rebellion, and to be the\nsymbolic number of perpetual unrest and incompleteness. There is a show\nof reason in this, for 666 is a repeating decimal that ever approaches,\nbut never reaches, _seven_, the number of completeness and rest. Six\ntimes this number 666 gives 3,996, the grand crisis\u2014the year of Christ\u2019s\nbirth, reckoning from creation; and again, reckoning from Abraham\u2019s\nbirth, as father of the faithful, brings us to the beginning of this\ncentury as a new crisis in history.\n\n6. A sixth road by which the same terminus is reached is the \u201ccondition\nof _world-witness_\u201d (see Matt, xxiv. 14, Mark xiii. 10). Christ\ndistinctly stated that the Gospel must first be published among all\nnations, and preached as a witness to all nations, and then would come\nthe END. With no little force many argue that there never was a period\nof such world-wide evangelism as now. Over three hundred missionary\nsocieties at work, about twelve thousand missionary workers, and nearly\nfifty thousand native helpers, engaged; the Bible translated into over\nfour hundred tongues, etc., and \u201cpublished to all nations.\u201d It is\nalso very noticeable that the motto of the present\u201ccrusade\u201d is \u201cThe\nevangelization of the world in this generation!\u201d\n\n7. A seventh mode of computing is that of the _Laodicean lukewarmness_.\nBy a comparison of Matt. xiii. 47-50 and Rev. iii. 14-22, it will be\nseen that the last state of the \u201c_kingdom_,\u201d previous to the end, is\nworld-wide evangelism, as indicated by the dragnet; and the last state\nof the _church_ is deep-seated apathy, as indicated by the Laodicean\nlukewarmness. And those who hold this view contend that both conditions\nare to coexist as the end draws nigh. They point us to the startling\nfact that _never before_ has the church shown signs of such extensive\nevangelization on the one hand, and such extensive deterioration on the\nother. Many regard this latter as the \u201cfalling away,\u201d which is to precede\nthe end (2 Thess. ii. 3).\n\n8. An eighth road seems to end at the same goal\u2014it is the _development\nof anarchism_. The hints in the Epistles to the Thessalonians, 2 Peter,\nJude, and the Apocalypse, it is contended, all agree in showing us\nthat, as the end approaches, there will be a peculiarly lawless spirit\nprevailing\u2014an uprising of an organized resistance to all authority in\nchurch and state, a combination of forces to supplant all government, and\nat the same time an arbitrary attempt to compel men to limit even trade\nand commerce by a certain \u201cmark,\u201d that alone authorizes one to \u201cbuy or\nsell\u201d (Rev. xiii. 16, 17). Those who emphasize this as a sign of the end\npoint triumphantly to the recent and unprecedented growth of communism,\nsocialism, and nihilism; and to the simultaneous growth of trades-unions\nand protective organizations, monopolies and trusts, which restrict all\ntrade or labor to their \u201cmark.\u201d\n\n9. The ninth argument presented for the near approach of the end is\n_Irredentism_ or the drift of the Jews toward Palestine, and the\nrehabilitation of their national life. This is, as the advocates of this\nview contend, \u201cthe blossoming of the fig-tree\u201d (Matt. xxiv. 32, 33),\nwhich marks the end as \u201cnear, even at the doors.\u201d Certainly there is\nsomething very startling in the modern movement known as \u201cZionism,\u201d and\nwhich has developed within the last five years, summoning these great\nconferences of leading Jews to the European capitals. Never before has\nthe national spirit of the Israelites had such a revival since Christ\nascended.\n\n10. The tenth line of argument converges at the same point, namely, the\n_Spirit\u2019s withdrawal_. There is a mysterious passage in 2 Thess. ii.\n7, where we are told that there is some great Hinderer, whose presence\nprevents the final outbreak of the Mystery of Iniquity, and who must be\nwithdrawn before the end of lawlessness can come, in the \u201creappearing of\nthe Lord.\u201d The advocates of this view contend that, by every sign, the\nSpirit of God is shown to have withdrawn or to be withdrawing from the\nchurch as a whole. It is maintained by very devout souls that there is\nleft, in the church at large, neither spiritual worship, spiritual faith,\nspiritual work, nor spiritual life; that altho these all exist, they\nexist in a few elect individuals, and not in the church as a body; and\nthat, especially in the matter of _administration_\u2014the specific office\nof the Spirit\u2014He is displaced by the spirit of the world, as evinced by\nthe worldly men and maxims, secular oratory, artistic music, worldly\nentertainments, etc., which everywhere prevail.\n\nWhatever grounds, above presented, may seem untenable or unsafe, one\nthing seems undeniable: there is a _convergence of signs upon this our\nday_, such as has never indicated any previous period as the probable\ntime of the end. For example, if the Hebrew means _Rosh_, Russia, and\nthis nation is thus in prophecy indicated as the \u201chead\u201d of the last great\nmovement of history toward world empire, how like a fulfilment are all\nthe present movements of that empire\u2014the trans-Siberian railway, the\nencroachments on China, etc.! And if universal anarchy is to be the last\ngreat development of society, when was there a time when, both in church\nand state, there was such a development of lawlessness (\u1f00\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1)?\n\nUpon this subject we can no longer, within these narrow limits,\nexpatiate. But it may at least stir up the thoughtful reader to\nindividual search into the signs of the times. What are the indications\nabove the prophetic and historic horizon? If the signs of the coming of\nthe Son of Man are indeed to be seen, it may well incite us to be among\nthe watchers who, while others yet sleep, are awake and looking for the\ndawn!","title":"Tarry thou till I come; or, Salathiel, the wandering Jew.","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":226908}