Ben-Hur: A tale of the Christ
“There is an Almighty God.”
Herod was visibly startled.
“He bade us come hither, promising that we should find the Redeemer of
the World; that we should see and worship him, and bear witness that he
was come; and, as a sign, we were each given to see a star. His Spirit
stayed with us. O king, his Spirit is with us now!”
An overpowering feeling seized the three. The Greek with difficulty
restrained an outcry. Herod’s gaze darted quickly from one to the
other; he was more suspicious and dissatisfied than before.
“You are mocking me,” he said. “If not, tell me more. What is to follow
the coming of the new king?”
“The salvation of men.”
“From what?”
“Their wickedness.”
“How?”
“By the divine agencies—Faith, Love, and Good Works.”
“Then”—Herod paused, and from his look no man could have said with what
feeling he continued—“you are the heralds of the Christ. Is that all?”
Balthasar bowed low.
“We are your servants, O king.”
The monarch touched a bell, and the attendant appeared.
“Bring the gifts,” the master said.
The attendant went out, but in a little while returned, and, kneeling
before the guests, gave to each one an outer robe or mantle of scarlet
and blue, and a girdle of gold. They acknowledged the honors with
Eastern prostrations.
“A word further,” said Herod, when the ceremony was ended. “To the
officer of the gate, and but now to me, you spoke of seeing a star in
the east.”
“Yes,” said Balthasar, “his star, the star of the newly born.”
“What time did it appear?”
“When we were bidden come hither.”
Herod arose, signifying the audience was over. Stepping from the throne
towards them, he said, with all graciousness,
“If, as I believe, O illustrious men, you are indeed the heralds of the
Christ just born, know that I have this night consulted those wisest in
things Jewish, and they say with one voice he should be born in
Bethlehem of Judea. I say to you, go thither; go and search diligently
for the young child; and when you have found him bring me word again,
that I may come and worship him. To your going there shall be no let or
hindrance. Peace be with you!”
And, folding his robe about him, he left the chamber.
Directly the guide came, and led them back to the street, and thence to
the khan, at the portal of which the Greek said, impulsively, “Let us
to Bethlehem, O brethren, as the king has advised.”
“Yes,” cried the Hindoo. “The Spirit burns within me.”
“Be it so,” said Balthasar, with equal warmth. “The camels are ready.”
They gave gifts to the steward, mounted into their saddles, received
directions to the Joppa Gate, and departed. At their approach the great
valves were unbarred, and they passed out into the open country, taking
the road so lately travelled by Joseph and Mary. As they came up out of
Hinnom, on the plain of Rephaim, a light appeared, at first wide-spread
and faint. Their pulses fluttered fast. The light intensified rapidly;
they closed their eyes against its burning brilliance: when they dared
look again, lo! the star, perfect as any in the heavens, but low down
and moving slowly before them. And they folded their hands, and
shouted, and rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
“God is with us! God is with us!” they repeated, in frequent cheer, all
the way, until the star, rising out of the valley beyond Mar Elias,
stood still over a house up on the slope of the hill near the town.
CHAPTER XIV
It was now the beginning of the third watch, and at Bethlehem the
morning was breaking over the mountains in the east, but so feebly that
it was yet night in the valley. The watchman on the roof of the old
khan, shivering in the chilly air, was listening for the first
distinguishable sounds with which life, awakening, greets the dawn,
when a light came moving up the hill towards the house. He thought it a
torch in some one’s hand; next moment he thought it a meteor; the
brilliance grew, however, until it became a star. Sore afraid, he cried
out, and brought everybody within the walls to the roof. The
phenomenon, in eccentric motion, continued to approach; the rocks,
trees, and roadway under it shone as in a glare of lightning; directly
its brightness became blinding. The more timid of the beholders fell
upon their knees, and prayed, with their faces hidden; the boldest,
covering their eyes, crouched, and now and then snatched glances
fearfully. Afterwhile the khan and everything thereabout lay under the
intolerable radiance. Such as dared look beheld the star standing still
directly over the house in front of the cave where the Child had been
born.
In the height of this scene, the wise men came up, and at the gate
dismounted from their camels, and shouted for admission. When the
steward so far mastered his terror as to give them heed, he drew the
bars and opened to them. The camels looked spectral in the unnatural
light, and, besides their outlandishness, there were in the faces and
manner of the three visitors an eagerness and exaltation which still
further excited the keeper’s fears and fancy; he fell back, and for a
time could not answer the question they put to him.
“Is not this Bethlehem of Judea?”
But others came, and by their presence gave him assurance.
“No, this is but the khan; the town lies farther on.”
“Is there not here a child newly born?”
The bystanders turned to each other marvelling, though some of them
answered, “Yes, yes.”
“Show us to him!” said the Greek, impatiently.
“Show us to him!” cried Balthasar, breaking through his gravity; “for
we have seen his star, even that which ye behold over the house, and
are come to worship him.”
The Hindoo clasped his hands, exclaiming, “God indeed lives! Make
haste, make haste! The Savior is found. Blessed, blessed are we above
men!”
The people from the roof came down and followed the strangers as they
were taken through the court and out into the enclosure; at sight of
the star yet above the cave, though less candescent than before, some
turned back afraid; the greater part went on. As the strangers neared
the house, the orb arose; when they were at the door, it was high up
overhead vanishing; when they entered, it went out lost to sight. And
to the witnesses of what then took place came a conviction that there
was a divine relation between the star and the strangers, which
extended also to at least some of the occupants of the cave. When the
door was opened, they crowded in.
The apartment was lighted by a lantern enough to enable the strangers
to find the mother, and the child awake in her lap.
“Is the child thine?” asked Balthasar of Mary.
And she who had kept all the things in the least affecting the little
one, and pondered them in her heart, held it up in the light, saying,
“He is my son!”
And they fell down and worshipped him.
They saw the child was as other children: about its head was neither
nimbus nor material crown; its lips opened not in speech; if it heard
their expressions of joy, their invocations, their prayers, it made no
sign whatever, but, baby-like, looked longer at the flame in the
lantern than at them.
In a little while they arose, and, returning to the camels, brought
gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and laid them before the child,
abating nothing of their worshipful speeches; of which no part is
given, for the thoughtful know that the pure worship of the pure heart
was then what it is now, and has always been, an inspired song.
And this was the Savior they had come so far to find!
Yet they worshipped without a doubt.
Why?
Their faith rested upon the signs sent them by him whom we have since
come to know as the Father; and they were of the kind to whom his
promises were so all-sufficient that they asked nothing about his ways.
Few there were who had seen the signs and heard the promises—the Mother
and Joseph, the shepherds, and the Three—yet they all believed alike;
that is to say, in this period of the plan of salvation, God was all
and the Child nothing. But look forward, O reader! A time will come
when the signs will all proceed from the Son. Happy they who then
believe in him!
Let us wait that period.
BOOK SECOND
“There is a fire
And motion of the soul which will not dwell
In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire;
And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,
Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire
Of aught but rest.”
Childe Harold.
CHAPTER I
It is necessary now to carry the reader forward twenty-one years, to
the beginning of the administration of Valerius Gratus, the fourth
imperial governor of Judea—a period which will be remembered as rent by
political agitations in Jerusalem, if, indeed, it be not the precise
time of the opening of the final quarrel between the Jew and the Roman.
In the interval Judea had been subjected to changes affecting her in
many ways, but in nothing so much as her political status. Herod the
Great died within one year after the birth of the Child—died so
miserably that the Christian world had reason to believe him overtaken
by the Divine wrath. Like all great rulers who spend their lives in
perfecting the power they create, he dreamed of transmitting his throne
and crown—of being the founder of a dynasty. With that intent, he left
a will dividing his territories between his three sons, Antipas,
Philip, and Archelaus, of whom the last was appointed to succeed to the
title. The testament was necessarily referred to Augustus, the emperor,
who ratified all its provisions with one exception: he withheld from
Archelaus the title of king until he proved his capacity and loyalty;
in lieu thereof, he created him ethnarch, and as such permitted him to
govern nine years, when, for misconduct and inability to stay the
turbulent elements that grew and strengthened around him, he was sent
into Gaul as an exile.
Cæsar was not content with deposing Archelaus; he struck the people of
Jerusalem in a manner that touched their pride, and keenly wounded the
sensibilities of the haughty habitues of the Temple. He reduced Judea
to a Roman province, and annexed it to the prefecture of Syria. So,
instead of a king ruling royally from the palace left by Herod on Mount
Zion, the city fell into the hands of an officer of the second grade,
an appointee called procurator, who communicated with the court in Rome
through the Legate of Syria, residing in Antioch. To make the hurt more
painful, the procurator was not permitted to establish himself in
Jerusalem; Cæsarea was his seat of government. Most humiliating,
however, most exasperating, most studied, Samaria, of all the world the
most despised—Samaria was joined to Judea as a part of the same
province! What ineffable misery the bigoted Separatists or Pharisees
endured at finding themselves elbowed and laughed at in the
procurator’s presence in Cæsarea by the devotees of Gerizim!
In this rain of sorrows, one consolation, and one only, remained to the
fallen people: the high-priest occupied the Herodian palace in the
market-place, and kept the semblance of a court there. What his
authority really was is a matter of easy estimate. Judgment of life and
death was retained by the procurator. Justice was administered in the
name and according to the decretals of Rome. Yet more significant, the
royal house was jointly occupied by the imperial exciseman, and all his
corps of assistants, registrars, collectors, publicans, informers, and
spies. Still, to the dreamers of liberty to come, there was a certain
satisfaction in the fact that the chief ruler in the palace was a Jew.
His mere presence there day after day kept them reminded of the
covenants and promises of the prophets, and the ages when Jehovah
governed the tribes through the sons of Aaron; it was to them a certain