Ben-Hur: A tale of the Christ
I knew thy father, and loved him. He was a prince indeed. He taught me
a Jew was not a barbarian. I will take thee with me. I will make thee
my son. Give thy God thanks, and call the sailors. Haste! The pursuit
must be kept. Not a robber shall escape. Hasten them!”
Judah raised himself upon the plank, and waved his hand, and called
with all his might; at last he drew the attention of the sailors in the
small boat, and they were speedily taken up.
Arrius was received on the galley with all the honors due a hero so the
favorite of Fortune. Upon a couch on the deck he heard the particulars
of the conclusion of the fight. When the survivors afloat upon the
water were all saved and the prize secured, he spread his flag of
commandant anew, and hurried northward to rejoin the fleet and perfect
the victory. In due time the fifty vessels coming down the channel
closed in upon the fugitive pirates, and crushed them utterly; not one
escaped. To swell the tribune’s glory, twenty galleys of the enemy were
captured.
Upon his return from the cruise, Arrius had warm welcome on the mole at
Misenum. The young man attending him very early attracted the attention
of his friends there; and to their questions as to who he was the
tribune proceeded in the most affectionate manner to tell the story of
his rescue and introduce the stranger, omitting carefully all that
pertained to the latter’s previous history. At the end of the
narrative, he called Ben-Hur to him, and said, with a hand resting
affectionately upon his shoulder,
“Good friends, this is my son and heir, who, as he is to take my
property—if it be the will of the gods that I leave any—shall be known
to you by my name. I pray you all to love him as you love me.”
Speedily as opportunity permitted, the adoption was formally perfected.
And in such manner the brave Roman kept his faith with Ben-Hur, giving
him happy introduction into the imperial world. The month succeeding
Arrius’s return, the armilustrium was celebrated with the utmost
magnificence in the theater of Scaurus. One side of the structure was
taken up with military trophies; among which by far the most
conspicuous and most admired were twenty prows, complemented by their
corresponding aplustra, cut bodily from as many galleys; and over them,
so as to be legible to the eighty thousand spectators in the seats, was
this inscription:
TAKEN FROM THE PIRATES IN THE GULF OF EURIPUS,
BY
QUINTUS ARRIUS,
DUUMVIR.
BOOK FOURTH
“Alva. Should the monarch prove unjust—
And, at this time—
Queen. Then I must wait for justice
Until it come; and they are happiest far
Whose consciences may calmly wait their right.”
Schiller, Don Carlos (act iv., sc. xv.)
CHAPTER I
The month to which we now come is July, the year that of our Lord 29,
and the place Antioch, then Queen of the East, and next to Rome the
strongest, if not the most populous, city in the world.
There is an opinion that the extravagance and dissoluteness of the age
had their origin in Rome, and spread thence throughout the empire; that
the great cities but reflected the manners of their mistress on the
Tiber. This may be doubted. The reaction of the conquest would seem to
have been upon the morals of the conqueror. In Greece she found a
spring of corruption; so also in Egypt; and the student, having
exhausted the subject, will close the books assured that the flow of
the demoralizing river was from the East westwardly, and that this very
city of Antioch, one of the oldest seats of Assyrian power and
splendor, was a principal source of the deadly stream.
A transport galley entered the mouth of the river Orontes from the blue
waters of the sea. It was in the forenoon. The heat was great, yet all
on board who could avail themselves of the privilege were on
deck—Ben-Hur among others.
The five years had brought the young Jew to perfect manhood. Though the
robe of white linen in which he was attired somewhat masked his form,
his appearance was unusually attractive. For an hour and more he had
occupied a seat in the shade of the sail, and in that time several
fellow-passengers of his own nationality had tried to engage him in
conversation, but without avail. His replies to their questions had
been brief, though gravely courteous, and in the Latin tongue. The
purity of his speech, his cultivated manners, his reticence, served to
stimulate their curiosity the more. Such as observed him closely were
struck by an incongruity between his demeanor, which had the ease and
grace of a patrician, and certain points of his person. Thus his arms
were disproportionately long; and when, to steady himself against the
motion of the vessel, he took hold of anything near by, the size of his
hands and their evident power compelled remark; so the wonder who and
what he was mixed continually with a wish to know the particulars of
his life. In other words, his air cannot be better described than as a
notice—This man has a story to tell.
The galley, in coming, had stopped at one of the ports of Cyprus, and
picked up a Hebrew of most respectable appearance, quiet, reserved,
paternal. Ben-Hur ventured to ask him some questions; the replies won
his confidence, and resulted finally in an extended conversation.
It chanced also that as the galley from Cyprus entered the receiving
bay of the Orontes, two other vessels which had been sighted out in the
sea met it and passed into the river at the same time; and as they did
so both the strangers threw out small flags of brightest yellow. There
was much conjecture as to the meaning of the signals. At length a
passenger addressed himself to the respectable Hebrew for information
upon the subject.
“Yes, I know the meaning of the flags,” he replied; “they do not
signify nationality—they are merely marks of ownership.”
“Has the owner many ships?”
“He has.”
“You know him?”
“I have dealt with him.”
The passengers looked at the speaker as if requesting him to go on.
Ben-Hur listened with interest.
“He lives in Antioch,” the Hebrew continued, in his quiet way. “That he
is vastly rich has brought him into notice, and the talk about him is
not always kind. There used to be in Jerusalem a prince of very ancient
family named Hur.”
Judah strove to be composed, yet his heart beat quicker.
“The prince was a merchant, with a genius for business. He set on foot
many enterprises, some reaching far East, others West. In the great
cities he had branch houses. The one in Antioch was in charge of a man
said by some to have been a family servant called Simonides, Greek in
name, yet an Israelite. The master was drowned at sea. His business,
however, went on, and was scarcely less prosperous. After a while
misfortune overtook the family. The prince’s only son, nearly grown,
tried to kill the procurator Gratus in one of the streets of Jerusalem.
He failed by a narrow chance, and has not since been heard of. In fact,
the Roman’s rage took in the whole house—not one of the name was left
alive. Their palace was sealed up, and is now a rookery for pigeons;
the estate was confiscated; everything that could be traced to the
ownership of the Hurs was confiscated. The procurator cured his hurt
with a golden salve.”
The passengers laughed.
“You mean he kept the property,” said one of them.
“They say so,” the Hebrew replied; “I am only telling a story as I
received it. And, to go on, Simonides, who had been the prince’s agent
here in Antioch, opened trade in a short time on his own account, and
in a space incredibly brief became the master merchant of the city. In
imitation of his master, he sent caravans to India; and on the sea at
present he has galleys enough to make a royal fleet. They say nothing
goes amiss with him. His camels do not die, except of old age; his
ships never founder; if he throw a chip into the river, it will come
back to him gold.”
“How long has he been going on thus?”
“Not ten years.”
“He must have had a good start.”
“Yes, they say the procurator took only the prince’s property ready at
hand—his horses, cattle, houses, land, vessels, goods. The money could
not be found, though there must have been vast sums of it. What became
of it has been an unsolved mystery.”
“Not to me,” said a passenger, with a sneer.
“I understand you,” the Hebrew answered. “Others have had your idea.
That it furnished old Simonides his start is a common belief. The
procurator is of that opinion—or he has been—for twice in five years he
has caught the merchant, and put him to torture.”
Judah gripped the rope he was holding with crushing force.
“It is said,” the narrator continued, “that there is not a sound bone
in the man’s body. The last time I saw him he sat in a chair, a
shapeless cripple, propped against cushions.”
“So tortured!” exclaimed several listeners in a breath.
“Disease could not have produced such a deformity. Still the suffering
made no impression upon him. All he had was his lawfully, and he was
making lawful use of it—that was the most they wrung from him. Now,
however, he is past persecution. He has a license to trade signed by
Tiberius himself.”
“He paid roundly for it, I warrant.”
“These ships are his,” the Hebrew continued, passing the remark. “It is
a custom among his sailors to salute each other upon meeting by
throwing out yellow flags, sight of which is as much as to say, ‘We
have had a fortunate voyage.’”
The story ended there.
When the transport was fairly in the channel of the river, Judah spoke
to the Hebrew.
“What was the name of the merchant’s master?”
“Ben-Hur, Prince of Jerusalem.”
“What became of the prince’s family?”
“The boy was sent to the galleys. I may say he is dead. One year is the
ordinary limit of life under that sentence. The widow and daughter have
not been heard of; those who know what became of them will not speak.
They died doubtless in the cells of one of the castles which spot the
waysides of Judea.”
Judah walked to the pilot’s quarter. So absorbed was he in thought that
he scarcely noticed the shores of the river, which from sea to city
were surpassingly beautiful with orchards of all the Syrian fruits and
vines, clustered about villas rich as those of Neapolis. No more did he
observe the vessels passing in an endless fleet, nor hear the singing
and shouting of the sailors, some in labor, some in merriment. The sky
was full of sunlight, lying in hazy warmth upon the land and the water;
nowhere except over his life was there a shadow.
Once only he awoke to a momentary interest, and that was when some one
pointed out the Grove of Daphne, discernible from a bend in the river.
CHAPTER II
When the city came into view, the passengers were on deck, eager that
nothing of the scene might escape them. The respectable Jew already
introduced to the reader was the principal spokesman.
“The river here runs to the west,” he said, in the way of general
answer. “I remember when it washed the base of the walls; but as Roman
subjects we have lived in peace, and, as always happens in such times,
trade has had its will; now the whole river front is taken up with
wharves and docks. Yonder”—the speaker pointed southward—“is Mount
Casius, or, as these people love to call it, the Mountains of Orontes,
looking across to its brother Amnus in the north; and between them lies
the Plain of Antioch. Farther on are the Black Mountains, whence the
Ducts of the Kings bring the purest water to wash the thirsty streets
and people; yet they are forests in wilderness state, dense, and full
of birds and beasts.”
“Where is the lake?” one asked.
“Over north there. You can take horse, if you wish to see it—or,
better, a boat, for a tributary connects it with the river.”