CHAPTER IX
Next morning,
about the second hour, two men rode full speed to the doors of Ben-Hur's tents,
and dismounting, asked to see him. He was not yet risen, but gave directions
for their admission.
"Peace to
you, brethren," he said, for they were of his Galileans, and trusted
officers. "Will you be seated?"
"Nay,"
the senior replied, bluntly, "to sit and be at ease is to let the Nazarene
die. Rise, son of Judah, and go with us. The judgment has been given. The tree
of the cross is already at Golgotha."
Ben-Hur stared at
them.
"The
cross!" was all he could for the moment say.
"They took
him last night, and tried him," the man continued. "At dawn they led
him before Pilate. Twice the Roman denied his guilt; twice he refused to give
him over. At last he washed his hands, and said, 'Be it upon you then;' and
they answered -”
"Who
answered?"
"They - the
priests and people - 'His blood be upon us and our children.'"
"Holy father
Abraham!" cried Ben-Hur; "a Roman kinder to an Israelite than his own
kin! And if - ah, if he should indeed be the son of God, what shall ever wash
his blood from their children? It must not be - 'tis time to fight!"
His face
brightened with resolution, and he clapped his hands.
"The horses
- and quickly!" he said to the Arab who answered the signal. "And bid
Amrah send me fresh garments, and bring my sword! It is time to die for Israel,
my friends. Tarry without till I come."
He ate a crust,
drank a cup of wine, and was soon upon the road.
"Whither
would you go first?" asked the Galilean.
"To collect
the legions."
"Alas!"
the man replied, throwing up his hands.
"Why
alas?"
"Master"
- the man spoke with shame -”master, I and my friend here are all that are
faithful. The rest do follow the priests."
"Seeking
what?" and Ben-Hur drew rein.
"To kill
him."
"Not the
Nazarene?"
"You have
said it."
Ben-Hur looked
slowly from one man to the other. He was hearing again the question of the
night before: "The cup my Father hath given me, shall I not drink
it?" In the ear of the Nazarene he was putting his own question, "If
I bring thee rescue, wilt thou accept it?" He was saying to himself,
"This death may not be averted. The man has been travelling towards it
with full knowledge from the day he began his mission: it is imposed by a will
higher than his; whose but the Lord's! If he is consenting, if he goes to it
voluntarily, what shall another do?" Nor less did Ben-Hur see the failure
of the scheme he had built upon the fidelity of the Galileans; their desertion,
in fact, left nothing more of it. But how singular it should happen that morning
of all others! A dread seized him. It was possible his scheming, and labor, and
expenditure of treasure might have been but blasphemous contention with God.
When he picked up the reins and said, "Let us go, brethren," all
before him was uncertainty. The faculty of resolving quickly, without which one
cannot be a hero in the midst of stirring scenes, was numb within him.
"Let us go,
brethren; let us to Golgotha."
They passed
through excited crowds of people going south, like themselves. All the country
north of the city seemed aroused and in motion.
Hearing that the
procession with the condemned might be met with somewhere near the great white
towers left by Herod, the three friends rode thither, passing round southeast
of Akra. In the valley below the Pool of Hezekiah, passage-way against the
multitude became impossible, and they were compelled to dismount, and take
shelter behind the corner of a house and wait.
The waiting was
as if they were on a river bank, watching a flood go by, for such the people
seemed.
There are certain
chapters in the First Book of this story which were written to give the reader
an idea of the composition of the Jewish nationality as it was in the time of
Christ. They were also written in anticipation of this hour and scene; so that
he who has read them with attention can now see all Ben-Hur saw of the going to
the crucifixion - a rare and wonderful sight!
Half an hour - an
hour - the flood surged by Ben-Hur and his companions, within arm's reach,
incessant, undiminished. At the end of that time he could have said, "I
have seen all the castes of Jerusalem, all the sects of Judea, all the tribes
of Israel, and all the nationalities of earth represented by them." The
Libyan Jew went by, and the Jew of Egypt, and the Jew from the Rhine; in short,
Jews from all East countries and all West countries, and all islands within
commercial connection; they went by on foot, on horseback, on camels, in
litters and chariots, and with an infinite variety of costumes, yet with the
same marvellous similitude of features which to-day particularizes the children
of Israel, tried as they have been by climates and modes of life; they went by
speaking all known tongues, for by that means only were they distinguishable
group from group; they went by in haste - eager, anxious, crowding - all to
behold one poor Nazarene die, a felon between felons.
These were the
many, but they were not all.
Borne along with
the stream were thousands not Jews - thousands hating and despising them -
Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Syrians, Africans, Egyptians, Easterns. So that,
studying the mass, it seemed the whole world was to be represented, and, in
that sense, present at the crucifixion.
The going was
singularly quiet. A hoof-stroke upon a rock, the glide and rattle of revolving
wheels, voices in conversation, and now and then a calling voice, were all the
sounds heard above the rustle of the mighty movement. Yet was there upon every
countenance the look with which men make haste to see some dreadful sight, some
sudden wreck, or ruin, or calamity of war. And by such signs Ben-Hur judged
that these were the strangers in the city come up to the Passover, who had had
no part in the trial of the Nazarene, and might be his friends.
At length, from
the direction of the great towers, Ben-Hur heard, at first faint in the
distance, a shouting of many men.
"Hark! they
are coming now," said one of his friends.
The people in the
street halted to hear; but as the cry rang on over their heads, they looked at
each other, and in shuddering silence moved along.
The shouting drew
nearer each moment; and the air was already full of it and trembling, when
Ben-Hur saw the servants of Simonides coming with their master in his chair,
and Esther walking by his side; a covered litter was next behind them.
Peace to you, O
Simonides - and to you, Esther," said Ben-Hur, meeting them. "If you
are for Golgotha, stay until the procession passes; I will then go with you.
There is room to turn in by the house here."
The merchant's
large head rested heavily upon his breast; rousing himself, he answered,
"Speak to Balthasar; his pleasure will be mine. He is in the litter."
Ben-Hur hastened
to draw aside the curtain. The Egyptian was lying within, his wan face so
pinched as to appear like a dead man's. The proposal was submitted to him.
"Can we see
him?" he inquired, faintly.
"The
Nazarene? yes; he must pass within a few feet of us."
"Dear
Lord!" the old man cried, fervently. "Once more, once more! Oh, it is
a dreadful day for the world!"
Shortly the whole
party were in waiting under shelter of the house. They said but little, afraid,
probably, to trust their thoughts to each other; everything was uncertain, and
nothing so much so as opinions. Balthasar drew himself feebly from the litter,
and stood supported by a servant; Esther and Ben-Hur kept Simonides company.
Meantime the
flood poured along, if anything, more densely than before; and the shouting
came nearer, shrill up in the air, hoarse along the earth, and cruel. At last
the procession was up.
"See!"
said Ben-Hur, bitterly; "that which cometh now is Jerusalem."
The advance was
in possession of an army of boys, hooting and screaming, "The King of the
Jews! Room, room for the King of the Jews!"
Simonides watched
them as they whirled and danced along, like a cloud of summer insects, and
said, gravely, "When these come to their inheritance, son of Hur, alas for
the city of Solomon!"
A band of
legionaries fully armed followed next, marching in sturdy indifference, the
glory of burnished brass about them the while.
Then came the
NAZARENE!
He was nearly
dead. Every few steps he staggered as if he would fall. A stained gown badly
torn hung from his shoulders over a seamless undertunic. His bare feet left red
splotches upon the stones. An inscription on a board was tied to his neck. A
crown of thorns had been crushed hard down upon his head, making cruel wounds
from which streams of blood, now dry and blackened, had run over his face and
neck. The long hair, tangled in the thorns, was clotted thick. The skin, where
it could be seen, was ghastly white. His hands were tied before him. Back
somewhere in the city he had fallen exhausted under the transverse beam of his
cross, which, as a condemned person, custom required him to bear to the place
of execution; now a countryman carried the burden in his stead. Four soldiers
went with him as a guard against the mob, who sometimes, nevertheless, broke
through, and struck him with sticks, and spit upon him. Yet no sound escaped
him, neither remonstrance nor groan; nor did he look up until he was nearly in
front of the house sheltering Ben-Hur and his friends, all of whom were moved
with quick compassion. Esther clung to her father; and he, strong of will as he
was, trembled. Balthasar fell down speechless. Even Ben-Hur cried out, "O
my God! my God!" Then, as if he divined their feelings or heard the
exclamation, the Nazarene turned his wan face towards the party, and looked at
them each one, so they carried the look in memory through life. They could see
he was thinking of them, not himself, and the dying eyes gave them the blessing
he was not permitted to speak.
"Where are
thy legions, son of Hur?" asked Simonides, aroused.
"Hannas can
tell thee better than I."
"What,
faithless?"
"All but
these two."
"Then all is
lost, and this good man must die!"
The face of the
merchant knit convulsively as he spoke, and his head sank upon his breast. He
had borne his part in Ben-Hur's labors well, and he had been inspired by the
same hopes, now blown out never to be rekindled.
Two other men
succeeded the Nazarene bearing cross-beams.
"Who are
these?" Ben-Hur asked of the Galileans.
"Thieves
appointed to die with the Nazarene," they replied.
Next in the
procession stalked a mitred figure clad all in the golden vestments of the
high-priest. Policemen from the Temple curtained him round about; and after
him, in order, strode the sanhedrim, and a long array of priests, the latter in
their plain white garments, overwrapped by abnets of many folds and gorgeous
colors.
"The son-in-law
of Hannas," said Ben-Hur, in a low voice.
"Caiaphas! I
have seen him," Simonides replied, adding, after a pause during which he
thoughtfully watched the haughty pontiff, "And now am I convinced. With
such assurance as proceeds from clear enlightenment of the spirit - with
absolute assurance - now know I that he who first goes yonder with the
inscription about his neck is what the inscription proclaims him - KING OF THE
JEWS. A common man, an impostor, a felon, was never thus waited upon. For look!
Here are the nations - Jerusalem, Israel. Here is the ephod, here the blue robe
with its fringe, and purple pomegranates, and golden bells, not seen in the
street since the day Jaddua went out to meet the Macedonian - proofs all that
this Nazarene is King. Would I could rise and go after him!"
Ben-Hur listened
surprised; and directly, as if himself awakening to his unusual display of
feeling, Simonides said, impatiently,
"Speak to
Balthasar, I pray you, and let us begone. The vomit of Jerusalem is coming."
Then Esther
spoke.
"I see some
women there, and they are weeping. Who are they?"
Following the
pointing of her hand, the party beheld four women in tears; one of them leaned
upon the arm of a man of aspect not unlike the Nazarene's. Presently Ben-Hur
answered,
"The man is
the disciple whom the Nazarene loves the best of all; she who leans upon his
arm is Mary, the Master's mother; the others are friendly women of
Galilee."
Esther pursued
the mourners with glistening eyes until the multitude received them out of
sight.
It may be the
reader will fancy the foregoing snatches of conversation were had in quiet; but
it was not so. The talking was, for the most part, like that indulged by people
at the seaside under the sound of the surf; for to nothing else can the clamor
of this division of the mob be so well likened.
The demonstration
was the forerunner of those in which, scarce thirty years later, under rule of
the factions, the Holy City was torn to pieces; it was quite as great in
numbers, as fanatical and bloodthirsty; boiled and raved, and had in it exactly
the same elements - servants, camel-drivers, marketmen, gate-keepers,
gardeners, dealers in fruits and wines, proselytes, and foreigners not
proselytes, watchmen and menials from the Temple, thieves, robbers, and the
myriad not assignable to any class, but who, on such occasions as this,
appeared no one could say whence, hungry and smelling of caves and old tombs -
bareheaded wretches with naked arms and legs, hair and beard in uncombed mats,
and each with one garment the color of clay; beasts with abysmal mouths, in
outcry effective as lions calling each other across desert spaces. Some of them
had swords; a greater number flourished spears and javelins; though the weapons
of the many were staves and knotted clubs, and slings, for which latter
selected stones were stored in scrips, and sometimes in sacks improvised from
the foreskirts of their dirty tunics. Among the mass here and there appeared
persons of high degree - scribes, elders, rabbis, Pharisees with broad
fringing, Sadducees in fine cloaks - serving for the time as prompters and
directors. If a throat tired of one cry, they invented another for it; if
brassy lungs showed signs of collapse, they set them going again; and yet the
clamor, loud and continuous as it was, could have been reduced to a few
syllables - King of the Jews! Room for the King of the Jews! - Defiler of the
Temple! - Blasphemer of God! - Crucify him, crucify him! And of these cries the
last one seemed in greatest favor, because, doubtless, it was more directly
expressive of the wish of the mob, and helped to better articulate its hatred
of the Nazarene.
"Come,"
said Simonides, when Balthasar was ready to proceed -”come, let us
forward."
Ben-Hur did not
hear the call. The appearance of the part of the procession then passing, its
brutality and hunger for life, were reminding him of the Nazarene - his
gentleness, and the many charities he had seen him do for suffering men.
Suggestions beget suggestions; so he remembered suddenly his own great
indebtedness to the man; the time he himself was in the hands of a Roman guard
going, as was supposed, to a death as certain and almost as terrible as this
one of the cross; the cooling drink he had at the well by Nazareth, and the
divine expression of the face of him who gave it; the later goodness, the
miracle of Palm-Sunday; and with these recollections, the thought of his
present powerlessness to give back help for help or make return in kind stung
him keenly, and he accused himself. He had not done all he might; he could have
watched with the Galileans, and kept them true and ready; and this - ah! this
was the moment to strike! A blow well given now would not merely disperse the
mob and set the Nazarene free; it would be a trumpet-call to Israel, and
precipitate the long-dreamt-of war for freedom. The opportunity was going; the
minutes were bearing it away; and if lost! God of Abraham! Was there nothing to
be done - nothing?
That instant a
party of Galileans caught his eye. He rushed through the press and overtook
them.
"Follow
me," he said. "I would have speech with you."
The men obeyed
him, and when they were under shelter of the house, he spoke again:
"You are of
those who took my swords, and agreed with me to strike for freedom and the King
who was coming. You have the swords now, and now is the time to strike with
them. Go, look everywhere, and find our brethren, and tell them to meet me at
the tree of the cross making ready for the Nazarene. Haste all of you! Nay,
stand not so! The Nazarene is the King, and freedom dies with him."
They looked at
him respectfully, but did not move.
"Hear
you?" he asked.
Then one of them
replied,
"Son of
Judah" - by that name they knew him -”son of Judah, it is you who are
deceived, not we or our brethren who have your swords. The Nazarene is not the
King; neither has he the spirit of a king. We were with him when he came into
Jerusalem; we saw him in the Temple; he failed himself, and us, and Israel; at
the Gate Beautiful he turned his back upon God and refused the throne of David.
He is not King, and Galilee is not with him. He shall die the death. But hear
you, son of Judah. We have your swords, and we are ready now to draw them and
strike for freedom; and so is Galilee. Be it for freedom, O son of Judah, for
freedom! and we will meet you at the tree of the cross."
The sovereign
moment of his life was upon Ben-Hur. Could he have taken the offer and said the
word, history might have been other than it is; but then it would have been history
ordered by men, not God - something that never was, and never will be. A
confusion fell upon him; he knew not how, though afterwards he attributed it to
the Nazarene; for when the Nazarene was risen, he understood the death was
necessary to faith in the resurrection, without which Christianity would be an
empty husk. The confusion, as has been said, left him without the faculty of
decision; he stood helpless - wordless even. Covering his face with his hand,
he shook with the conflict between his wish, which was what he would have
ordered, and the power that was upon him.
"Come; we
are waiting for you," said Simonides, the fourth time.
Thereupon he
walked mechanically after the chair and the litter. Esther walked with him.
Like Balthasar and his friends, the Wise Men, the day they went to the meeting
in the desert, he was being led along the way.
CHAPTER X
When the party -
Balthasar, Simonides, Ben-Hur, Esther, and the two faithful Galileans - reached
the place of crucifixion, Ben-Hur was in advance leading them. How they had
been able to make way through the great press of excited people, he never knew;
no more did he know the road by which they came or the time it took them to
come. He had walked in total unconsciousness, neither hearing nor seeing anybody
or anything, and without a thought of where he was going, or the ghostliest
semblance of a purpose in his mind. In such condition a little child could have
done as much as he to prevent the awful crime he was about to witness. The
intentions of God are always strange to us; but not more so than the means by
which they are wrought out, and at last made plain to our belief.
Ben-Hur came to a
stop; those following him also stopped. As a curtain rises before an audience,
the spell holding him in its sleep-awake rose, and he saw with a clear
understanding.
There was a space
upon the top of a low knoll rounded like a skull, and dry, dusty, and without
vegetation, except some scrubby hyssop. The boundary of the space was a living
wall of men, with men behind struggling, some to look over, others to look
through it. An inner wall of Roman soldiery held the dense outer wall rigidly
to its place. A centurion kept eye upon the soldiers. Up to the very line so
vigilantly guarded Ben-Hur had been led; at the line he now stood, his face to
the northwest. The knoll was the old Aramaic Golgotha - in Latin, Calvaria;
anglicized, Calvary; translated, The Skull.
On its slopes, in
the low places, on the swells and higher hills, the earth sparkled with a
strange enamelling. Look where he would outside the walled space, he saw no
patch of brown soil, no rock, no green thing; he saw only thousands of eyes in
ruddy faces; off a little way in the perspective only ruddy faces without eyes;
off a little farther only a broad, broad circle, which the nearer view
instructed him was also of faces. And this was the ensemble of three millions
of people; under it three millions of hearts throbbing with passionate interest
in what was taking place upon the knoll; indifferent as to the thieves, caring
only for the Nazarene, and for him only as he was an object of hate or fear or
curiosity - he who loved them all, and was about to die for them.
In the spectacle
of a great assemblage of people there are always the bewilderment and fascination
one feels while looking over a stretch of sea in agitation, and never had this
one been exceeded; yet Ben-Hur gave it but a passing glance, for that which was
going on in the space described would permit no division of his interest.
Up on the knoll
so high as to be above the living wall, and visible over the heads of an
attending company of notables, conspicuous because of his mitre and vestments
and his haughty air, stood the high priest. Up the knoll still higher, up quite
to the round summit, so as to be seen far and near, was the Nazarene, stooped
and suffering, but silent. The wit among the guard had complemented the crown
upon his head by putting a reed in his hand for a sceptre. Clamors blew upon
him like blasts - laughter - execrations - sometimes both together
indistinguishably. A man - ONLY a man, O reader, would have charged the blasts
with the remainder of his love for the race, and let it go forever.
All the eyes then
looking were fixed upon the Nazarene. It may have been pity with which he was
moved; whatever the cause, Ben-Hur was conscious of a change in his feelings. A
conception of something better than the best of this life - something so much
better that it could serve a weak man with strength to endure agonies of spirit
as well as of body; something to make death welcome - perhaps another life
purer than this one - perhaps the spirit-life which Balthasar held to so fast,
began to dawn upon his mind clearer and clearer, bringing to him a certain
sense that, after all, the mission of the Nazarene was that of guide across the
boundary for such as loved him; across the boundary to where his kingdom was
set up and waiting for him. Then, as something borne through the air out of the
almost forgotten, he heard again, or seemed to hear, the saying of the
Nazarene,
"I AM THE
RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE."
And the words
repeated themselves over and over, and took form, and the dawn touched them
with its light, and filled them with a new meaning. And as men repeat a
question to grasp and fix the meaning, he asked, gazing at the figure on the
hill fainting under its crown, Who the Resurrection? and who the Life?
"I AM,"
the figure seemed
to say - and say it for him; for instantly he was sensible of a peace such as
he had never known - the peace which is the end of doubt and mystery, and the
beginning of faith and love and clear understanding.
From this dreamy
state Ben-Hur was aroused by the sound of hammering. On the summit of the knoll
he observed then what had escaped him before - some soldiers and workmen
preparing the crosses. The holes for planting the trees were ready, and now the
transverse beams were being fitted to their places.
"Bid the men
make haste," said the high-priest to the centurion. "These" -
and he pointed to the Nazarene -”must be dead by the going-down of the sun, and
buried that the land may not be defiled. Such is the Law."
With a better
mind, a soldier went to the Nazarene and offered him something to drink, but he
refused the cup. Then another went to him and took from his neck the board with
the inscription upon it, which he nailed to the tree of the cross - and the
preparation was complete.
"The crosses
are ready," said the centurion to the pontiff, who received the report
with a wave of the hand and the reply,
"Let the
blasphemer go first. The Son of God should be able to save himself. We will
see."
The people to
whom the preparation in its several stages was visible, and who to this time
had assailed the hill with incessant cries of impatience, permitted a lull
which directly became a universal hush. The part of the infliction most
shocking, at least to the thought, was reached - the men were to be nailed to
their crosses. When for that purpose the soldiers laid their hands upon the
Nazarene first, a shudder passed through the great concourse; the most
brutalized shrank with dread. Afterwards there were those who said the air
suddenly chilled and made them shiver.
"How very
still it is!" Esther said, as she put her arm about her father's neck.
And remembering
the torture he himself had suffered, he drew her face down upon his breast, and
sat trembling.
"Avoid it,
Esther, avoid it!" he said. "I know not but all who stand and see it
- the innocent as well as the guilty - may be cursed from this hour."
Balthasar sank upon
his knees.
"Son of
Hur," said Simonides, with increasing excitement -”son of Hur, if Jehovah
stretch not forth his hand, and quickly, Israel is lost - and we are
lost."
Ben-Hur answered,
calmly, "I have been in a dream, Simonides, and heard in it why all this
should be, and why it should go on. It is the will of the Nazarene - it is
God's will. Let us do as the Egyptian here - let us hold our peace and
pray."
As he looked up
on the knoll again, the words were wafted to him through the awful stillness -
"I AM THE
RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE."
He bowed
reverently as to a person speaking.
Up on the summit
meantime the work went on. The guard took the Nazarene's clothes from him; so
that he stood before the millions naked. The stripes of the scourging he had
received in the early morning were still bloody upon his back; yet he was laid
pitilessly down, and stretched upon the cross - first, the arms upon the
transverse beam; the spikes were sharp - a few blows, and they were driven
through the tender palms; next, they drew his knees up until the soles of the
feet rested flat upon the tree; then they placed one foot upon the other, and
one spike fixed both of them fast. The dulled sound of the hammering was heard
outside the guarded space; and such as could not hear, yet saw the hammer as it
fell, shivered with fear. And withal not a groan, or cry, or word of
remonstrance from the sufferer: nothing at which an enemy could laugh; nothing
a lover could regret.
"Which way
wilt thou have him faced?" asked a soldier, bluntly.
"Towards the
Temple," the pontiff replied. "In dying I would have him see the holy
house hath not suffered by him."
The workmen put
their hands to the cross, and carried it, burden and all, to the place of
planting. At a word, they dropped the tree into the hole; and the body of the
Nazarene also dropped heavily, and hung by the bleeding hands. Still no cry of
pain - only the exclamation divinest of all recorded exclamations,
"Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do."
The cross, reared
now above all other objects, and standing singly out against the sky, was
greeted with a burst of delight; and all who could see and read the writing
upon the board over the Nazarene's head made haste to decipher it. Soon as
read, the legend was adopted by them and communicated, and presently the whole
mighty concourse was ringing the salutation from side to side, and repeating it
with laughter and groans,
"King of the
Jews! Hail, King of the Jews!"
The pontiff, with
a clearer idea of the import of the inscription, protested against it, but in
vain; so the titled King, looking from the knoll with dying eyes, must have had
the city of his fathers at rest below him - she who had so ignominiously cast
him out.
The sun was
rising rapidly to noon; the hills bared their brown breasts lovingly to it; the
more distant mountains rejoiced in the purple with which it so regally dressed
them. In the city, the temples, palaces, towers, pinnacles, and all points of
beauty and prominence seemed to lift themselves into the unrivalled brilliance,
as if they knew the pride they were giving the many who from time to time
turned to look at them. Suddenly a dimness began to fill the sky and cover the
earth - at first no more than a scarce perceptible fading of the day; a
twilight out of time; an evening gliding in upon the splendors of noon. But it
deepened, and directly drew attention; whereat the noise of the shouting and
laughter fell off, and men, doubting their senses, gazed at each other
curiously: then they looked to the sun again; then at the mountains, getting
farther away; at the sky and the near landscape, sinking in shadow; at the hill
upon which the tragedy was enacting; and from all these they gazed at each
other again, and turned pale, and held their peace.
"It is only
a mist or passing cloud," Simonides said soothingly to Esther, who was
alarmed. "It will brighten presently."
Ben-Hur did not
think so.
"It is not a
mist or a cloud," he said. "The spirits who live in the air - the
prophets and saints - are at work in mercy to themselves and nature. I say to
you, O Simonides, truly as God lives, he who hangs yonder is the Son of
God."
And leaving
Simonides lost in wonder at such a speech from him, he went where Balthasar was
kneeling near by, and laid his hand upon the good man's shoulder.
"O wise
Egyptian, hearken! Thou alone wert right - the Nazarene is indeed the Son of
God."
Balthasar drew
him down to him, and replied, feebly, "I saw him a child in the manger where
he was first laid; it is not strange that I knew him sooner than thou; but oh
that I should live to see this day! Would I had died with my brethren! Happy
Melchior! Happy, happy Gaspar!"
"Comfort
thee!" said Ben-Hur. "Doubtless they too are here."
The dimness went
on deepening into obscurity, and that into positive darkness, but without
deterring the bolder spirits upon the knoll. One after the other the thieves
were raised on their crosses, and the crosses planted. The guard was then
withdrawn, and the people set free closed in upon the height, and surged up it,
like a converging wave. A man might take a look, when a new-comer would push
him on, and take his place, to be in turn pushed on - and there were laughter
and ribaldry and revilements, all for the Nazarene.
"Ha, ha! If
thou be King of the Jews, save thyself," a soldier shouted.
"Ay,"
said a priest, "if he will come down to us now, we will believe in
him."
Others wagged
their heads wisely, saying, "He would destroy the Temple, and rebuild it in
three days, but cannot save himself."
Others still:
"He called himself the Son of God; let us see if God will have him."
What all there is
in prejudice no one has ever said. The Nazarene had never harmed the people;
far the greater part of them had never seen him except in this his hour of
calamity; yet - singular contrariety! - they loaded him with their curses, and
gave their sympathy to the thieves.
The supernatural
night, dropped thus from the heavens, affected Esther as it began to affect
thousands of others braver and stronger.
"Let us go
home," she prayed - twice, three times - saying, "It is the frown of
God, father. What other dreadful things may happen, who can tell? I am
afraid."
Simonides was
obstinate. He said little, but was plainly under great excitement. Observing,
about the end of the first hour, that the violence of the crowding up on the
knoll was somewhat abated, at his suggestion the party advanced to take
position nearer the crosses. Ben-Hur gave his arm to Balthasar; yet the Egyptian
made the ascent with difficulty. From their new stand, the Nazarene was
imperfectly visible, appearing to them not more than a dark suspended figure.
They could hear him, however - hear his sighing, which showed an endurance or
exhaustion greater than that of his fellow-sufferers; for they filled every
lull in the noises with their groans and entreaties.
The second hour
after the suspension passed like the first one. To the Nazarene they were hours
of insult, provocation, and slow dying. He spoke but once in the time. Some
women came and knelt at the foot of his cross. Among them he recognized his
mother with the beloved disciple.
"Woman,"
he said, raising his voice, "behold thy son!" And to the disciple,
"Behold thy mother!"
The third hour
came, and still the people surged round the hill, held to it by some strange
attraction, with which, in probability, the night in midday had much to do.
They were quieter than in the preceding hour; yet at intervals they could be
heard off in the darkness shouting to each other, multitude calling unto
multitude. It was noticeable, also, that coming now to the Nazarene, they
approached his cross in silence, took the look in silence, and so departed.
This change extended even to the guard, who so shortly before had cast lots for
the clothes of the crucified; they stood with their officers a little apart,
more watchful of the one convict than of the throngs coming and going. If he
but breathed heavily, or tossed his head in a paroxysm of pain, they were
instantly on the alert. Most marvellous of all, however, was the altered
behavior of the high-priest and his following, the wise men who had assisted
him in the trial in the night, and, in the victim's face, kept place by him
with zealous approval. When the darkness began to fall, they began to lose
their confidence. There were among them many learned in astronomy, and familiar
with the apparitions so terrible in those days to the masses; much of the
knowledge was descended to them from their fathers far back; some of it had
been brought away at the end of the Captivity; and the necessities of the
Temple service kept it all bright. These closed together when the sun commenced
to fade before their eyes, and the mountains and hills to recede; they drew
together in a group around their pontiff, and debated what they saw. "The
moon is at its full," they said, with truth, "and this cannot be an
eclipse." Then, as no one could answer the question common with them all -
as no one could account for the darkness, or for its occurrence at that
particular time, in their secret hearts they associated it with the Nazarene,
and yielded to an alarm which the long continuance of the phenomenon steadily
increased. In their place behind the soldiers, they noted every word and motion
of the Nazarene, and hung with fear upon his sighs, and talked in whispers. The
man might be the Messiah, and then - But they would wait and see!
In the meantime
Ben-Hur was not once visited by the old spirit. The perfect peace abode with
him. He prayed simply that the end might be hastened. He knew the condition of
Simonides' mind - that he was hesitating on the verge of belief. He could see
the massive face weighed down by solemn reflection. He noticed him casting
inquiring glances at the sun, as seeking the cause of the darkness. Nor did he
fail to notice the solicitude with which Esther clung to him, smothering her
fears to accommodate his wishes.
"Be not
afraid," he heard him say to her; "but stay and watch with me. Thou
mayst live twice the span of my life, and see nothing of human interest equal
to this; and there may be revelations more. Let us stay to the close."
When the third
hour was about half gone, some men of the rudest class - wretches from the
tombs about the city - came and stopped in front of the centre cross.
"This is he,
the new King of the Jews," said one of them.
The others cried,
with laughter, "Hail, all hail, King of the Jews!"
Receiving no
reply, they went closer.
"If thou be
King of the Jews, or Son of God, come down," they said, loudly.
At this, one of
the thieves quit groaning, and called to the Nazarene, "Yes, if thou be
Christ, save thyself and us."
The people
laughed and applauded; then, while they were listening for a reply, the other
felon was heard to say to the first one, "Dost thou not fear God? We
receive the due rewards of our deeds; but this man hath done nothing
amiss."
The bystanders
were astonished; in the midst of the hush which ensued, the second felon spoke
again, but this time to the Nazarene:
"Lord,"
he said, "remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom."
Simonides gave a
great start. "When thou comest into thy kingdom!" It was the very
point of doubt in his mind; the point he had so often debated with Balthasar.
"Didst thou
hear?" said Ben-Hur to him. "The kingdom cannot be of this world. Yon
witness saith the King is but going to his kingdom; and, in effect, I heard the
same in my dream."
"Hush!"
said Simonides, more imperiously than ever before in speech to Ben-Hur.
"Hush, I pray thee! If the Nazarene should answer -”
And as he spoke
the Nazarene did answer, in a clear voice, full of confidence:
"Verily I
say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!"
Simonides waited
to hear if that were all; then he folded his hands and said, "No more, no more,
Lord! The darkness is gone; I see with other eyes - even as Balthasar, I see
with eyes of perfect faith."
The faithful
servant had at last his fitting reward. His broken body might never be
restored; nor was there riddance of the recollection of his sufferings, or
recall of the years embittered by them; but suddenly a new life was shown him,
with assurance that it was for him - a new life lying just beyond this one -
and its name was Paradise. There he would find the Kingdom of which he had been
dreaming, and the King. A perfect peace fell upon him.
Over the way, in
front of the cross, however, there were surprise and consternation. The cunning
casuists there put the assumption underlying the question and the admission
underlying the answer together. For saying through the land that he was the
Messiah, they had brought the Nazarene to the cross; and, lo! on the cross,
more confidently than ever, he had not only reasserted himself, but promised
enjoyment of his Paradise to a malefactor. They trembled at what they were
doing. The pontiff, with all his pride, was afraid. Where got the man his
confidence except from Truth? And what should the Truth be but God? A very
little now would put them all to flight.
The breathing of
the Nazarene grew harder, his sighs became great gasps. Only three hours upon
the cross, and he was dying!
The intelligence
was carried from man to man, until every one knew it; and then everything
hushed; the breeze faltered and died; a stifling vapor loaded the air; heat was
superadded to darkness; nor might any one unknowing the fact have thought that
off the hill, out under the overhanging pall, there were three millions of
people waiting awe-struck what should happen next - they were so still!
Then there went
out through the gloom, over the heads of such as were on the hill within
hearing of the dying man, a cry of despair, if not reproach:
"My God! my
God! why hast thou forsaken me?"
The voice
startled all who heard it. One it touched uncontrollably.
The soldiers in
coming had brought with them a vessel of wine and water, and set it down a
little way from Ben-Hur. With a sponge dipped into the liquor, and put on the
end of a stick, they could moisten the tongue of a sufferer at their pleasure.
Ben-Hur thought of the draught he had had at the well near Nazareth; an impulse
seized him; catching up the sponge, he dipped it into the vessel, and started
for the cross.
"Let him
be!" the people in the way shouted, angrily. "Let him be!"
Without minding
them, he ran on, and put the sponge to the Nazarene's lips.
Too late, too
late!
The face then
plainly seen by Ben-Hur, bruised and black with blood and dust as it was,
lighted nevertheless with a sudden glow; the eyes opened wide, and fixed upon
some one visible to them alone in the far heavens; and there were content and
relief, even triumph, in the shout the victim gave.
"It is
finished! It is finished!"
So a hero, dying
in the doing a great deed, celebrates his success with a last cheer.
The light in the
eyes went out; slowly the crowned head sank upon the laboring breast. Ben-Hur
thought the struggle over; but the fainting soul recollected itself, so that he
and those around him caught the other and last words, spoken in a low voice, as
if to one listening close by:
"Father,
into thy hands I commend my spirit."
A tremor shook
the tortured body; there was a scream of fiercest anguish, and the mission and
the earthly life were over at once. The heart, with all its love, was broken;
for of that, O reader, the man died!
Ben-Hur went back
to his friends, saying, simply, "It is over; he is dead."
In a space
incredibly short the multitude was informed of the circumstance. No one
repeated it aloud; there was a murmur which spread from the knoll in every
direction; a murmur that was little more than a whispering, "He is dead!
he is dead!" and that was all. The people had their wish; the Nazarene was
dead; yet they stared at each other aghast. His blood was upon them! And while
they stood staring at each other, the ground commenced to shake; each man took
hold of his neighbor to support himself; in a twinkling the darkness
disappeared, and the sun came out; and everybody, as with the same glance,
beheld the crosses upon the hill all reeling drunken-like in the earthquake.
They beheld all three of them; but the one in the centre was arbitrary; it
alone would be seen; and for that it seemed to extend itself upwards, and lift
its burden, and swing it to and fro higher and higher in the blue of the sky.
And every man among them who had jeered at the Nazarene; every one who had
struck him; every one who had voted to crucify him; every one who had marched
in the procession from the city; every one who had in his heart wished him
dead, and they were as ten to one, felt that he was in some way individually
singled out from the many, and that if he would live he must get away quickly
as possible from that menace in the sky. They started to run; they ran with all
their might; on horseback, and camels, and in chariots they ran, as well as on
foot; but then as if it were mad at them for what they had done, and had taken
up the cause of the unoffending and friendless dead, the earthquake pursued
them, and tossed them about, and flung them down, and terrified them yet more
by the horrible noise of great rocks grinding and rending beneath them. They
beat their breasts and shrieked with fear. His blood was upon them! The
home-bred and the foreign, priest and layman, beggar, Sadducee, Pharisee, were
overtaken in the race, and tumbled about indiscriminately. If they called on
the Lord, the outraged earth answered for him in fury, and dealt them all
alike. It did not even know wherein the high-priest was better than his guilty
brethren; overtaking him, it tripped him up also, and smirched the fringimg of
his robe, and filled the golden bells with sand, and his mouth with dust. He
and his people were alike in the one thing at least - the blood of the Nazarene
was upon them all!
When the sunlight
broke upon the crucifixion, the mother of the Nazarene, the disciple, and the
faithful women of Galilee, the centurion and his soldiers, and Ben-Hur and his
party, were all who remained upon the hill. These had not time to observe the
flight of the multitude; they were too loudly called upon to take care of
themselves.
"Seat
thyself here," said Ben-Hur to Esther, making a place for her at her
father's feet. "Now cover thine eyes and look not up; but put thy trust in
God, and the spirit of yon just man so foully slain."
"Nay,"
said Simonides, reverently, "let us henceforth speak of him as the
Christ."
"Be it
so," said Ben-Hur.
Presently a wave
of the earthquake struck the hill. The shrieks of the thieves upon the reeling
crosses were terrible to hear. Though giddy with the movements of the ground,
Ben-Hur had time to look at Balthasar, and beheld him prostrate and still. He
ran to him and called - there was no reply. The good man was dead! Then Ben-Hur
remembered to have heard a cry in answer, as it were, to the scream of the
Nazarene in his last moment; but he had not looked to see from whom it had
proceeded; and ever after he believed the spirit of the Egyptian accompanied
that of his Master over the boundary into the kingdom of Paradise. The idea
rested not only upon the cry heard, but upon the exceeding fitness of the distinction.
If faith were worthy reward in the person of Gaspar, and love in that of
Melchior, surely he should have some special meed who through a long life and
so excellently illustrated the three virtues in combination - Faith, Love, and
Good Works.
The servants of
Balthasar had deserted their master; but when all was over, the two Galileans
bore the old man in his litter back to the city.
It was a
sorrowful procession that entered the south gate of the palace of the Hurs
about the set of sun that memorable day. About the same hour the body of the
Christ was taken down from the cross.
The remains of
Balthasar were carried to the guest-chamber. All the servants hastened weeping
to see him; for he had the love of every living thing with which he had in anywise
to do; but when they beheld his face, and the smile upon it, they dried their
tears, saying, "It is well. He is happier this evening than when he went
out in the morning."
Ben-Hur would not
trust a servant to inform Iras what had befallen her father. He went himself to
see her and bring her to the body. He imagined her grief; she would now be
alone in the world; it was a time to forgive and pity her. He remembered he had
not asked why she was not of the party in the morning, or where she was; he remembered
he had not thought of her; and, from shame, he was ready to make any amends,
the more so as he was about to plunge her into such acute grief.
He shook the
curtains of her door; and though he heard the ringing of the little bells
echoing within, he had no response; he called her name, and again he called -
still no answer. He drew the curtain aside and went into the room; she was not
there. He ascended hastily to the roof in search of her; nor was she there. He
questioned the servants; none of them had seen her during the day. After a long
quest everywhere through the house, Ben-Hur returned to the guest-chamber, and
took the place by the dead which should have been hers; and he bethought him
there how merciful the Christ had been to his aged servant. At the gate of the
kingdom of Paradise happily the afflictions of this life, even its desertions,
are left behind and forgotten by those who go in and rest.
When the gloom of
the burial was nigh gone, on the ninth day after the healing, the law being fulfilled,
Ben-Hur brought his mother and Tirzah home; and from that day, in that house
the most sacred names possible of utterance by men were always coupled
worshipfully together,
GOD THE FATHER
AND CHRIST THE SON.
- - - -
About five years after the crucifixion, Esther, the
wife of Ben-Hur, sat in her room in the beautiful villa by Misenum. It was
noon, with a warm Italian sun making summer for the roses and vines outside.
Everything in the apartment was Roman, except that Esther wore the garments of
a Jewish matron. Tirzah and two children at play upon a lion skin on the floor
were her companions; and one had only to observe how carefully she watched them
to know that the little ones were hers.
Time had treated
her generously. She was more than ever beautiful, and in becoming mistress of
the villa, she had realized one of her cherished dreams.
In the midst of
this simple, home-like scene, a servant appeared in the doorway, and spoke to
her.
"A woman in
the atrium to speak with the mistress."
"Let her
come. I will receive her here."
Presently the
stranger entered. At sight of her the Jewess arose, and was about to speak;
then she hesitated, changed color, and finally drew back, saying, "I have
known you, good woman. You are -”
"I was Iras,
the daughter of Balthasar."
Esther conquered
her surprise, and bade the servant bring the Egyptian a seat.
"No,"
said Iras, coldly. "I will retire directly."
The two gazed at
each other. We know what Esther presented - a beautiful woman, a happy mother,
a contented wife. On the other side, it was very plain that fortune had not
dealt so gently with her former rival. The tall figure remained with some of
its grace; but an evil life had tainted the whole person. The face was coarse;
the large eyes were red and pursed beneath the lower lids; there was no color
in her cheeks. The lips were cynical and hard, and general neglect was leading
rapidly to premature old age. Her attire was ill chosen and draggled. The mud
of the road clung to her sandals. Iras broke the painful silence.
"These are
thy children?"
Esther looked at
them, and smiled.
"Yes. Will
you not speak to them?"
"I would
scare them," Iras replied. Then she drew closer to Esther, and seeing her
shrink, said, "Be not afraid. Give thy husband a message for me. Tell him
his enemy is dead, and that for the much misery he brought me I slew him."
"His
enemy!"
"The
Messala. Further, tell thy husband that for the harm I sought to do him I have
been punished until even he would pity me."
Tears arose in
Esther's eyes, and she was about to speak.
"Nay,"
said Iras, "I do not want pity or tears. Tell him, finally, I have found
that to be a Roman is to be a brute. Farewell."
She moved to go.
Esther followed her.
"Stay, and
see my husband. He has no feeling against you. He sought for you everywhere. He
will be your friend. I will be your friend. We are Christians."
The other was
firm.
"No; I am
what I am of choice. It will be over shortly."
"But" -
Esther hesitated -”have we nothing you would wish; nothing to - to -”
The countenance
of the Egyptian softened; something like a smile played about her lips. She
looked at the children upon the floor.
"There is
something," she said.
Esther followed
her eyes, and with quick perception answered, "It is yours."
Iras went to
them, and knelt on the lion's skin, and kissed them both. Rising slowly, she
looked at them; then passed to the door and out of it without a parting word.
She walked rapidly, and was gone before Esther could decide what to do.
Ben-Hur, when he
was told of the visit, knew certainly what he had long surmised - that on the
day of the crucifixion Iras had deserted her father for Messala. Nevertheless,
he set out immediately and hunted for her vainly; they never saw her more, or
heard of her. The blue bay, with all its laughing under the sun, has yet its
dark secrets. Had it a tongue, it might tell us of the Egyptian.
Simonides lived
to be a very old man. In the tenth year of Nero's reign, he gave up the
business so long centred in the warehouse at Antioch. To the last he kept a
clear head and a good heart, and was successful.
One evening, in
the year named, he sat in his arm-chair on the terrace of the warehouse.
Ben-Hur and Esther, and their three children, were with him. The last of the
ships swung at mooring in the current of the river; all the rest had been sold.
In the long interval between this and the day of the crucifixion but one sorrow
had befallen them: that was when the mother of Ben-Hur died; and then and now
their grief would have been greater but for their Christian faith.
The ship spoken
of had arrived only the day before, bringing intelligence of the persecution of
Christians begun by Nero in Rome, and the party on the terrace were talking of
the news when Malluch, who was still in their service, approached and delivered
a package to Ben-Hur.
"Who brings
this?" the latter asked, after reading.
"An
Arab."
"Where is
he?"
"He left
immediately."
"Listen,"
said Ben-Hur to Simonides.
He read then the
following letter:
"I, Ilderim,
the son of Ilderim the Generous, and sheik of the tribe of Ilderim, to Judah,
son of Hur.
"Know, O
friend of my father's, how my father loved you. Read what is herewith sent, and
you will know. His will is my will; therefore what he gave is thine.
"All the Parthians
took from him in the great battle in which they slew him I have retaken - this
writing, with other things, and vengeance, and all the brood of that Mira who
in his time was mother of so many stars.
"Peace be to
you and all yours.
"This voice
out of the desert is the voice of
"Ilderim,
Shiek."
Ben-Hur next
unrolled a scrap of papyrus yellow as a withered mulberry leaf. It required the
daintiest handling. Proceeding, he read:
"Ilderim,
surnamed the Generous, sheik of the tribe of Ilderim, to the son who succeeds
me.
"All I have,
O son, shall be thine in the day of thy succession, except that property by
Antioch known as the Orchard of Palms; and it shall be to the son of Hur who
brought us such glory in the Circus - to him and his forever.
"Dishonor
not thy father. ILDERIM THE GENEROUS, Sheik."
"What say
you?" asked Ben-Hur, of Simonides.
Esther took the
papers pleased, and read them to herself. Simonides remained silent. His eyes
were upon the ship; but he was thinking. At length he spoke.
"Son of
Hur," he said, gravely, "the Lord has been good to you in these later
years. You have much to be thankful for. Is it not time to decide finally the
meaning of the gift of the great fortune now all in your hand, and
growing?"
"I decided
that long ago. The fortune was meant for the service of the Giver; not a part,
Simonides, but all of it. The question with me has been, How can I make it most
useful in his cause? And of that tell me, I pray you."
Simonides
answered,
"The great
sums you have given to the Church here in Antioch, I am witness to. Now,
instantly almost with this gift of the generous sheik's, comes the news of the
persecution of the brethren in Rome. It is the opening of a new field. The
light must not go out in the capital."
"Tell me how
I can keep it alive."
"I will tell
you. The Romans, even this Nero, hold two things sacred - I know of no others
they so hold - they are the ashes of the dead and all places of burial. If you
cannot build temples for the worship of the Lord above ground, then build them
below the ground; and to keep them from profanation, carry to them the bodies
of all who die in the faith."
Ben-Hur arose
excitedly.
"It is a
great idea," he said. "I will not wait to begin it. Time forbids
waiting. The ship that brought the news of the suffering of our brethren shall
take me to Rome. I will sail to-morrow."
He turned to
Malluch.
"Get the
ship ready, Malluch, and be thou ready to go with me.
"It is
well," said Simonides.
"And thou,
Esther, what sayest thou?" asked Ben-Hur.
Esther came to
his side, and put her hand on his arm, and answered,
"So wilt
thou best serve the Christ. O my husband, let me not hinder, but go with thee
and help."
If any of my
readers, visiting Rome, will make the short journey to the Catacomb of San
Calixto, which is more ancient than that of San Sebastiano, he will see what
became of the fortune of Ben-Hur, and give him thanks. Out of that vast tomb
Christianity issued to supersede the Caesars.
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