The 
 
 PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 
 LIBRARY 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 DURHAM, N. C. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 
 
 https://archive.org/details/salathielorwandeOOcrol 
 
SALATHIEL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WANDERING JEW. 
 
REV. DR. CROIiY, AUTHOR OF SALATHIEIi. 
 
 This gentleman is a native of Ireland, and was edu- 
 cated at Trinity College, Dublin. He is a correct and 
 eloquent poet and prose-writer: his poetical works are 
 •* Paris in 1815 “ The Angel of the World “ Gems 
 from the Antique,” &c. Dr. Croly has also edited, with 
 excellent judgment, a volume of Selections from the 
 British Poets. Among his many prose works are “ Sa- 
 lathiel,” a romance founded on the old legend of “the 
 Wandering Jew,” and displaying the most powerful 
 bursts of eloquence throughout its pages. Several years 
 since, too, Dr. Croly published a comedy, entitled — 
 “Pride Shall Have a Fall,” which was performed for 
 
 several nights, jvith great applause, at Covent Garden 
 Theatre, and was universally admired for its unsparing 
 ridicule of the follies of the day. “ A Life of Burke,** 
 and the “ Personal History of George IV.,” are among 
 Dr. Croly’s biographical works ; and a volume of the 
 “Apocalypse of St. John,” attests his erudite research- 
 es. He is at present engaged in writing the descriptions 
 of Mr. Robert’s splendid “Illustrations of the Holy 
 Land,” &c. 
 
 Dr. Croly is recter of St. Stephen’s, Walbrook ; his 
 style of preaching is characterised by impressive elo- 
 quence. 
 
S ALATHIEL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WANDERING JEW: 
 
 THE PAST, THE PRESENT, AND THE FCTCRE. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " LIFE AND TIMES OF GEORGE THE FOURTH,” “ APOCALYPSE OF ST. JOHN,” 
 
 “ TARRY THOU, TILL I COME.” — Salathiel , the Wandering Jew. 
 
 I wandered to the deserts of Arabia ; I joined a caravan journeying towards the holy city— it lost its way 
 — hunger and thirst tortured us, and put a brand, as it were, of hot iron upon our lips. My companions fell 
 around me upon the burning sand, our beasts of burden sank to rise no more, the simoom blew its poisoned 
 breath over the parched and verdureless earth ; the sun’s heat dried the blood in my veins. I did not die, but I 
 suffered alive that which killed my fellow-travellers. The elephant trampled me under his ftet ; fhe tiger 
 gnawed my flesh with his iron teeth ; the anaconda drew his mighty folds around my limbs, but in vain did 
 they mangle me ; a voice from above cried, ‘Live, Salathiel, live l Pursue thy endless journey. On— on— oa 
 — forever I* ” — Salathiel , the Wandering Jew. 
 
 A STORY OF 
 
 BY THE REV- GEORGE CROLY, 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 Complete in Cne Volume* 
 
 $ tv 1 1 a 0 e l p ft i a : 
 
 T. B. PETERSON, No. 98 CHESNUT STREET. 
 
 1850. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 There has appeared from time to time in Europe, during the 
 last thousand years, a mysterious individual, a sojourner in all 
 lands, yet a citizen of none ; professing the profoundest secrets of 
 opulence, yet generally living in a state of poverty ; astonishing 
 every one by the vigor of his recollections, and the evidence of 
 his close and living intercourse with the eminent characters and 
 events of every age, yet connected with none — without lineage, 
 or possession, or pursuit on earth — a wanderer and unhappy. 
 
 A number of histories have been invented for him; some purely 
 fictitious, others founded on ill-understood records. Germany, 
 the land of mysticism, where men labor to think all facts ima- 
 ginary, and turn all imaginations into facts, has toiled most in 
 this idle perversion of truth. Yet those narratives have been in 
 general but a few pages, feebly founded on the single, fatal sen- 
 tence of his punishment for an indignity offered to the Great 
 Author of the Christian faith. 
 
 That exile lives; that most afflicted of the people of affliction, 
 yet walks this earth ; bearing the sorrows of eighteen centuries 
 on his brow, — withering in soul with remorse for the guilt of an 
 hour of madness. He has long borne the scoff in silence ; he has 
 heard his princely rank degraded to that of a menial, and heard 
 without a murmur ; he has heard his unhappy offence charged to 
 deliberate malice and cruelty, when it was but the misfortune of 
 a zeal blinded and inflamed by the prejudices of his nation ; and 
 he has bowed to the calumny as a portion of his punishment. 
 But the time of this forbearance is no more. He feels himself at 
 last wearing away ; and feels, with a sensation like that of return- 
 ing to the common fates of mankind, a desire to stand clear with 
 his fellow-men. In their presence he will never move again. 
 To their justice, or their mercy, he will never again appeal. The 
 wound of his soul rests, never again to be disclosed y until that 
 day when all things shall be summoned and be known. 
 
 / In his final retreat he has collected these materials. He has 
 concealed nothing, he has dissembled nothing; the picture of his 
 hopes and fears, his weakness and his sorrows, is stamped here 
 with sacred sincerity. 
 
 Other narratives may be more specious or eloquent ; but this 
 narrative has the supreme merit of truth ; it is the most true — 
 it is the only true. 
 
SALATHIEL 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 “ Tarry thou, till i come.” The words 
 6hot through me — I felt them like an arrow 
 in my heart — my brain whirled — my eyes 
 grew dim. The troops, the priests, the popu- 
 lace, the ’world passed away from before my 
 senses like phantoms. 
 
 But my mind had a horrible clearness. As 
 if the veil that separates the visible and in- 
 visible worlds had been rent in sunder, I saw 
 shapes and signs for which mortal language 
 has no name. The whole expanse of the fu- 
 ture spread under my mental gaze in dread- 
 ful vision. A preternatural light, a new 
 power of mind seemed to have been poured 
 into my being. I saw at once the full guilt 
 of my crime — the fierce folly — the mad in- 
 gratitude — the desperate profanation. I lived 
 over again in frightful distinctness every act 
 and instant of the night of my unspeakable 
 sacrilege. I saw, as if written with a sun- 
 beam, the countless injuries, that in the rage 
 of bigotry I had accumulated upon the vic- 
 tim ; the bitter mockeries that I had devised ; 
 the cruel tauntings that my lips had taught 
 the rabble ; the pitiless malignity that had 
 forbidden them to discover a trace of virtue 
 where all virtue was. The blows of the 
 scourge still sounded in my ears. Every 
 drop of the innocent blood rose up in judg- 
 ment before me. 
 
 Accursed be the night in which I fell be- 
 fore the tempter ! Blotted out from time and 
 eternity be the hour in which I took part with 
 the torturers. Every fibre of my frame qui- 
 vers, every drop of my blood curdles, as I still 
 hear the echo of the anathema that on the 
 night of woe sprang first from my furious lips, 
 the self-pronounced ruin, the words of desola- 
 tion, “His blood be upon us, and upon our 
 
 CHILDREN !” 
 
 I had headed the multitude : where others 
 shrank, I urged ; where others pitied, I re- 
 viled, and inflamed ; I scoffed at the feeble 
 malice of the priesthood ; I scoffed at the 
 tardy cruelty of the Roman ; I swept away 
 by menace and by scorn the human reluct- 
 ance of the few who dreaded to dip their 
 hands in blood. Thinking to do God service, 
 and substituting my passions for my God, I 
 threw firebrands on the hearts of a rash, jeal- 
 ous, and bigoted people. I triumphed ! 
 
 In a deed which ought to have covered 
 earth with lamentation, which was to make 
 angels weep, which might have shaken the 
 universe into dust, I triumphed! The de- 
 cree was passed : but my frenzy was not so 
 to be satiated. I loathed the light while the 
 victim lived. Under the penalty of treason 
 to Caesar, I demanded instant execution of the 
 sentence. “ Not a day of life must be given,” 
 I exclaimed; “notan hour; — death, on the 
 instant; death !” My clamor was echoed by 
 the roar of millions. 
 
 But, in the moment of my exultation, I 
 was stricken. In the acclamation of the 
 multitude came forth the command. He 
 who had refused an hour of life to the victim, 
 was in terrible retribution condemned to know 
 the misery of life interminable. I heard 
 through all the voices of Jerusalem — I should 
 have heard through all the the thunders of 
 heaven — the calm low voice, “ Tarry thou, 
 till I come !” 
 
 I felt my fate at once. I sprang away 
 through the shouting hosts, as if the aveng- 
 ing angel waved his sword above my head. 
 Wild songs, furious execrations, the rude up- 
 roar of myriads stirred to the heights of popu 
 lar passion, filled the air ; still through all I 
 heard the pursuing sentence, “ Tarry thou, 
 till I come,” and felt it to be the sentence of 
 incurable agony ! I was never to know the 
 shelter of the grave. 
 
 Immortality on earth ! — The perpetual com- 
 pulsion of existence in a world made for 
 change; to feel the weariness of thousands 
 of years bowing down my wretched head ; 
 alienated from all the hopes, enjoyment, and 
 pursuits of man, to bear the heaviness of that 
 existence, which palls even with all the 
 stimulants of the most vivid career of man ; 
 life passionless, exhausted, melancholy, old : 
 I would rather have been blown about on the 
 storms of every region of the universe. I 
 was to be a wild beast, and a wild beast con- 
 demned to pace the same eternal cage ! A 
 criminal bound to the floor of his dungeon 
 forever. 
 
 Immortality on earth ! — I was now in the 
 vigor of life ; but must it be always so 1 Must 
 not pain, feebleness, the loss of mind, the sad 
 decay of all the resources of the human being, 
 be the natural result of time? Might I not 
 sink into the perpetual sick bed, hopeless de- 
 
 f A O 
 
2 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 crepitude, pain without cure or relaxation, 
 the extremities of famine, of disease, of mad- 
 ness! — yet this was to be borne for ages of 
 ages ! 
 
 Immortality on earth ! — Separation from 
 all that cheers and ennobles life ; I was to 
 survive my country ; to see the soil dear to 
 my heart violated by the feet of barbarians 
 yet unborn. Her sacred monuments, her tro- 
 phies, her tombs, a scoff and a spoil ; without 
 a resting spot to the sole of my feet, I was to 
 witness the slave, the man of blood, the sav- 
 age of the desert, the furious infidel, rioting 
 in my inheritance, digging up the bones of 
 mv fathers, trampling on the holy ruins of 
 Jerusalem ! 
 
 I was to feel the still keener misery of sur- 
 viving all that I loved ; wife, child, friend, 
 even to the last being with whom my heart 
 could imagine a human bond, all that bore a 
 drop of my blood in their veins, were to perish 
 in my sight, and I was to stand on the verge 
 of the perpetual grave, without the power to 
 seek its refuge. If new affections could ever 
 wind their way into my closed up and frozen 
 bosom, it must be only to fill it with new sor- 
 rows; for those I loved must still be torn from 
 me. In the world I must remain, and remain 
 alone ! 
 
 Immortality on earth ! — The grave that 
 closes on the sinner, closes on his sin. His 
 weight of offence is fixed. No new guilt 
 can gather on him there. But I was to know 
 no limit to the weight that was already crush- 
 ing me. The guilt of life upon life, the sur- 
 ges of an unfathomable ocean of crime were to 
 roll in eternal progress over my head. If 
 the judgment of the great day was terrible 
 to him who had passed but through the com- 
 mon measure of existence, what must be its 
 terrors to the wretch who was to appear load- 
 ed with the accumulated guilt of a thousand 
 lives 1 
 
 Overwhelmed with despair, I rushed 
 through Jerusalem, with scarcely a con- 
 sciousness of whither F was going. It was 
 the time of the Passover, when the city was 
 crowded with the multitude come to the great 
 festival of the year. I felt an instinctive hor- 
 ror of the human countenance, and shunned 
 every avenue by which the tribes came in. I 
 at last found myself at the Gate of Zion, that 
 leads southward into the open country. I had 
 then no eyes for that wondrous portal which 
 had exhausted the skill of the most famous Io- 
 nian sculptors, the master-work of Herod the 
 Great. But I vainly tried to force my wild way 
 through the crowds that lingered on their 
 march to gaze upon its matchless beauty ; 
 portal alone worthy of the wonders to which 
 it led, like the glory of an evening cloud 
 opening to lead the eye upwards to the stars. 
 
 On those days the Roman guard were 
 
 withdrawn ; I ascended the battlements to 
 seek another escape ; but the concourse gath- 
 ered there, to look upon the entrance of the 
 tribes, fixed me to the spot. Of all the strange 
 and magnificent sights of Earth, this entrance 
 was the most fitted to swell the national pride 
 of country and religion. The dispersion or- 
 dained by Heaven for judgment on the crimes 
 of our idolatrous kings, had, in that wonder- 
 working power by which good is brought out 
 of evil, planted our law in the remotest ex- 
 tremities of the world. Among its proselytes 
 were the mighty of all regions, the military 
 leaders, the sages, the kings; all at least 
 once in their lives, coming to pay homage to 
 the great central city of the faith*, and all 
 coining with the pomp and attendance of 
 their rank. The procession amounted to a 
 inumber which threw all after-times into the 
 shade. Three millions of people have been 
 counted at the Passover. The diversities of 
 the multitude were still more striking. Every 
 race of mankind, in its most marked peculiari- 
 ties, there passed beneath the eye. 
 
 There came the long train of swarthy 
 slaves and menials round the chariot of the 
 Indian prince, clothed in the silks and jewels 
 of the regions beyond the Ganges. Upon 
 them pressed the troop of African lion-hun- 
 ters, half-naked, but with their black limbs 
 wreathed with pearl and fragments of un- 
 wrought gold. Behind them moved on their 
 camels a patriarchal group, the Arab Sheik, 
 a venerable figure with his white locks flow- 
 ing from beneath his turban, leading his sons, 
 like our father Abraham, from the wilderness 
 to the Mount of Vision. Then rolled on the 
 glittering chariot of the Assyrian chieftain, a 
 regal show of purple and gems, and convoyed 
 by horsemen covered with armor. The Scy- 
 thian Jews, wrapped in the furs of wolf and 
 bear, iron men of the north : the noble Greek, 
 the perfection of the human form, with his 
 countenance beaming the genius and beauty 
 of his country : the broad and yellow features 
 of the Chinese rabbins; the fair skins and 
 gigantic forms of the German tribes ; strange 
 clusters of men unknown to the limits of Eu- 
 rope or Asia, with their black locks, com- 
 plexions of the color of gold, and slight yet 
 sinewy limbs, marked with figures of suns 
 and stars stuck into the flesh ; marched crowd 
 on crowd ; and in strong contrast with all, 
 the Italian on the charger or in the chariot, 
 urging the living stream to the right and left, 
 with the haughtiness of the acknowledged 
 master of mankind. The representative 
 world was before me. 
 
 But all those distinctive marks of country 
 and pursuit, though palpably ineradicable by 
 human means, were deeply overpowered and 
 mingled by the one grand inpression of the 
 I place and the time. In their presence was 
 
Salat hid. 
 
 3 
 
 the City of Holiness ; the Hill of Zion lifted 
 up its palaces ; above it ascended, like another 
 city, in a higher region of the air, the Tem- 
 ple, to whose majesty the world could show 
 no equal, to which the eyes of the believer 
 were turned from the uttermost, parts of earth, 
 in whose courts Solomon, the king of earthly 
 kings for wisdom, had called down the bless- 
 ing of the Most High, and it had descended 
 on the altar in fire ; in whose sanctuary the 
 Lord, whom heaven and the heaven of hea- 
 vens cannot contain, was yet to make his 
 throne, and give glory to his people. 
 
 Oh Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! when I think 
 of what I saw thee then, and of what I have 
 since seen thee, the spoiled, the desolate, the 
 utterly put to shame ; when I have seen the 
 Roman plough driven through the soil on 
 which stood the Holy of Holies; the Saracen 
 destroying even its ruins; the last, worst de- 
 vastator, the barbarian of the Caucasus, the 
 ruffian Turk, sitting in grim scorn upon the 
 towers of the city of David ; violating the 
 tombs of the prophet and the king; turning 
 up for plunder the soil, every blade of whose 
 grass, every atom of whose dust, was sacred 
 to the broken people of Israel : trampling 
 with savage cruelty, and the deeper torture 
 of infidel insult, my countrymen that lingered 
 among its walls only that they might seek a 
 grave in the ashes of the mighty ; I have 
 felt my spirit uproused, and maddened within 
 me. I have made impious wishes. I have 
 longed for the lightning to blast the tyrant. 
 I still start from my bed when I hear the 
 whirlwind, and send forth fierce prayers that 
 its rage may be poured on the tents of the 
 oppressor. I unconsciously tear away my 
 white locks, and scatter them in bitterness 
 of soul towards the east. In the wildness 
 of the moment, I have imagined every cloud 
 that sailed along the night a minister of the 
 descending vengeance. I have seen it a 
 throne of terrible shapes flying on the wings 
 of the wind, majestic spirits and kings of 
 wrath hurrying through the heavens to pour 
 down sulphureous hail and fire, as upon the 
 cities of the Dead Sea. I have cried out 
 with our prophet, as the vision swept along, 
 “ Who is he that cometh from Edom? with 
 dyed garments from Bozra? he that is glo- 
 rious in his apparel, travelling in the great- 
 ness of his strength? Wherefore art thou 
 red in thine apparel, and thy garments, like 
 him that treadeth the wine-press?” and I 
 have thought "that I heard the answer: “I, 
 that speak in righteousness, mighty to saue ! 
 I will tread them in rpine anger, and trample 
 them in my fury, and their blood shall be 
 sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain 
 all my raiment : for the day of vengeance is 
 in mine heart, and the year of my redeemed 
 is come l” 
 
 Then, when the impulse passed away, and 
 my heart withered within me, my eyes have 
 turned into fountains of tears, and I have 
 wept until morning came, and the sounds of 
 the world called back its recollections, and 
 for the sacred hills and valleys that I had 
 imagined in the darkness, I saw only the 
 roofs of some melancholy city, in which I was 
 a forlorn fugitive ; or a wilderness, with but 
 the burning sands and the robber before me: 
 or found myself tossing on the ocean, not 
 more fruitless than my heart, nor more rest- 
 less than my life, nor more unfathomable 
 than my woe. Yet, to the last will I hope 
 and love. Oh Jerusalem! Jerusalem! even 
 in my mirth, I will not forget thee ! 
 
 But those were the thoughts of after-times. 
 On that memorable and dreadful day, I had 
 no perception but of some undefinable fate, 
 which was to banish me from mankind. I at 
 length forced my way through the pressure 
 at the gate, turned to none of the kinsmen 
 who called to me as I passed their chariots 
 and horses, overthrew with desperate and 
 sudden strength all who impeded my pro- 
 gress, and scarcely felt the ground till I had 
 left the city behind, and had climbed up 
 through rocks and ruins the mountain that 
 rose drearily before me, like a barrier shutting 
 out the living world. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Terror had exhausted me : and throwing 
 myself on the ground, under the shade of the 
 stunted grove of palm-trees that thinly 
 crowned the summit of the hill, I fell into an 
 almost instant slumber. But it was unre- 
 freshing and disturbed. The events of the 
 day again came before me, strangely mingled 
 with those of my past life, and with others of 
 which I could form no waking remembrance. 
 I saw myself sometimes debased below man ; 
 like the great Assyrian king, driven out to 
 feed upon the herb of the forest, and w r ander 
 for years exposed to the scorching sun by 
 day, and the dews that sank chilling upon my 
 naked frame by night. I then seemed filled 
 with supernatural power, and rose on wings 
 till earth was diminished beneath me, and I 
 felt myself fearfully alone. Yet there was 
 one predominant sensation, that all this was 
 for punishment, and that it was to be perpet- 
 ual. At length, in one of my imaginary 
 flights, I found myself whirled on the wind, 
 like a swimmer down a cataract, in helpless 
 terror into the bosom of a thunder-cloud. I 
 felt the weight of the rolling vapors around 
 me ; I saw the blaze ; I was stunned by a 
 roar that shook the firmament. 
 
 My eyes suddenly opened, yet my dream 
 
4 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 appeared only to be realized by my waking. 
 Thick clouds of heavy and heated vapor were 
 rapidly rolling up from the precipices below ; 
 and at intervals a sound that I could not dis- 
 tinguish from distant thunder, burst on the 
 wind. But the sun was bright, and the hori- 
 zon was the dazzling blue of the eastern hea- 
 ven. As my senses slowly returned, for I 
 felt like a man overpowered with wine, and 
 a sudden rush of blood across my sight made 
 me dread that I was growing blind, I was 
 unable to discover where 1 was. The dis- 
 covery itself was terror. I had in my dis- 
 traction fled to the mountain on which no 
 Jew ever looked without shame and sorrow 
 for the crimes of the greatest king into 
 whose nostrils the Almighty ever poured the 
 spirit of life, but which a Jewish priest, 
 as I was, could not touch without being 
 guilty of defilement. I sat on the Mount of 
 Corruption, so called from its having once 
 witnessed the idolatries of our mighty Solo- 
 mon, when in his old age he gave way to the 
 persuasions of his heathen wives — that irre- 
 parable crime for which the kingdom was rent, 
 and the strength of Israel scattered. I saw 
 in the hollows of the nill the spaces, still 
 bearing the marks of burning, and barren 
 forever, on which the temples of Moloch, 
 Chemosh, and Ashtaroth, had lifted their im- 
 pious magnificence, in the sight of the House 
 of the living God. The very palm-trees under 
 which I had snatched that wild and bitter 
 sleep, were the remnant of the groves in 
 which the foul rites of the goddesses of Phoe- 
 nicia and Assyria once filled the air with 
 midnight abomination, with horrid yells of 
 human sacrifice, almost made more fearful 
 by their mingling with the roar of barbarian 
 revel, the wild dissonance of timbrel and 
 horn, the Bacchanalian chorus of the priest- 
 hood and people of impurity. 
 
 The vapors that rose hot and sickly before 
 me, were the smokes from the fires kindled 
 in the valley of Hinnom, where the refuse of 
 the animals slaughtered for the use of the 
 city, and the other pollutions and remnants 
 of things abominable to the Jew, were daily 
 burned. The sullen and perpetual fires, the 
 deadly fumes, and the aspects of the degraded 
 and excluded beings, chiefly public criminals, 
 who were employed in this hideous task gave 
 the idea of the place of final evil. Our pro- 
 phets, in their threats against the national 
 betrayers, against the proud and the self- 
 willed, the polluted with idols, and the pol- 
 luted with that still darker and more incura- 
 ble idolatry, the worship of the world, pointed 
 to the valley of Hinnom ! The Pharisee, 
 when he denounced the unbelief and luxury 
 of the lordly Sadducee, pointed to the valley 
 of Hinnom ! All — the Pharisee, the Essene, 
 tire Sadducee, in the haughty spirit that for- 
 
 got the fallen state of Jerusalem, and the 
 crimes that had lowered her; — the hypocrite, 
 the bigot, and the skeptic, alike mad with 
 hopeless revenge, when they saw the Roman 
 cohorts triumphing with their idolatrous en- 
 signs through the paths once trod by the 
 holy, or were driven aside by the torrent of 
 cavalry, and the gilded chariot on which sat 
 some insolent proconsul fresh from Italy, and 
 looking down on the noblest of our people as 
 the beaten slaves of the stranger — pointed to 
 the valley of Hinnom ! 
 
 How often, as the days of Jerusalem hur- 
 ried towards their end, and by some fatality, 
 the violences of the Roman governors became 
 more frequent and intolerable, have I seen 
 the groups of my countrymen, hunted into 
 some by-way of the city, by the hoofs of the 
 Roman horse, consuming with that inward 
 wrath which was soon to flame out in such 
 horrors, flinging up their wild hands, as if to 
 upbraid the tardy heavens, gnashing their 
 teeth, and with the strong contortions of the 
 oriental countenance, the stormy brow and 
 flashing eye, and lip scarcely audible from 
 the force of its own convulsion, muttering 
 conspiracy. Then, in despair of shaking off 
 that chain which had bound the whole earth, 
 they would appeal to the vengeance of the 
 endless future; and shrouding their heads in 
 their cloaks, stand like sorcerers summoning 
 up demons, each with his quivering hand 
 stretched out towards the accursed valley, 
 and every tongue groaning “ Gehenna 1” 
 
 While I lay upon the summit of the moun- 
 tain, in a state which gave me the deepest 
 impression that I had ever conceived of the 
 parting of soul and body, I was startled by 
 the sound of a trumpet. It was from the 
 temple, which, as the fires below sank with 
 the growing heat of the day, was now visible 
 to me. The trumpet was the signal of the 
 third hour, when the first daily sacrifice was 
 to be offered. It was the week of the class 
 of Abiah, of which I was, and this day’s ser- 
 vice fell to me. Though I would have given 
 all that I possessed on earth to be allowed 
 to rest upon that spot, polluted as it was, 
 and there moulder away into the dust and 
 ashes that I had made my bed ; 1 dared not 
 shrink from the most solemn duty of the 
 priesthood. 
 
 I rose, but it was not till after many efforts 
 that I was able to stand ; my limbs had a 
 stony weight and insensibility. I struggled 
 along the summit of the ridge, holding by the 
 stems of the palm-trees. The second trum- 
 pet sounded loudly, and was re-echoed by the 
 cliffs. I had now no time for delay, and was 
 about to spring downwards towards a path 
 which wound round the head of the valley 
 and beyond the fires, when my ears were 
 again arrested by that peal that had disturbed 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 5 
 
 me in my sleep, and my glance, which com- 
 manded the whole circuit of the hills round 
 Jerusalem, involuntarily looked for the thun- 
 der-cloud. The sky was without a stain ; but 
 the eminences towards the west, on whose 
 lovely slopes of vineyard, rose, and orange 
 groves my eye had so often reposed, as on a 
 vast Tyrian carpet tissued with purple and 
 gold, were now hung with gloom ; a huge 
 and sullen cloud seemed to be gathering over 
 the heights, and flashes and gleams of malig- 
 nant lustre burst from its bosom. The cloud 
 deepened, and the distant murmur grew loud- 
 er and more continued. 
 
 I hurried to the city gate. To my astonish- 
 ment, I found the road, that I had left so choked 
 up with the multitude, almost empty. The 
 camels stood tethered in long trains under 
 the trees, with scarcely an owner. The tents 
 were deserted, except by children, and the 
 few old persons necessary for their care. The 
 mules and horses grazed through the fields 
 without a keeper. I saw tents full of the 
 animals and other offerings that the tribes 
 brought up to the great feast, almost at the 
 mercy of any hand that would take them 
 away. Where could the myriads have dis- 
 appeared, that had covered the land a few 
 hours before to the very verge of the hori- 
 zon 1 
 
 The city was still more a subject of aston- 
 ishment. A panic might have driven away 
 the concourse of strangers, in a time when 
 the violences of the Roman sword had given 
 every Jew but too frequent cause for the 
 most sensitive alarm. But all within the 
 gate was equally deserted. The streets 
 were utterly stripped of the regular inhabi- 
 tants. What but a pestilence or a massacre 
 could have thus extinguished the look of life 
 in one of the most active and populous cities 
 of the east 1 The Roman guards were al- 
 most the only beings that I could discover in 
 my passage of the long streets from the foot 
 of the upper city to the mount of the temple. 
 
 All this was favorable to my extreme anx- 
 iety to escape every eye of my countrymen ; 
 yet I cannot tell with what a throbbing of 
 heart, and variety of feverish emotion, 1 at 
 length reached the threshold of my dwelling. 
 Though young, I was a husband and a father. 
 What might not have happened since the sun- 
 set of the evening before 1 for my evil doings, 
 for which mav He, with whom mercy lies 
 at the right hand and judgment at the left, 
 have mercy on me, had fatally occupied the 
 night. I listened at the door, with my heart 
 upon my lips. 1 dared not open it. My sus- 
 pense was at length relieved by my wife’s 
 voice ; she was weeping. I fell on my knees, 
 and thanked heaven that she was alive. 
 
 But my infant ! I thought of the sword 
 that smote the first-born in the land of bond- 
 
 age, and felt that Judah, guilty as Egypt, 
 might well dread its punishment Was it 
 for my first-born that the sobs of its angel 
 mother had arisen in her loneliness 1 Another 
 pause of bitter suspense — and I heard the 
 laugh of my babe as it awoke in her arms. 
 
 The first human sensation that I had felt 
 for so many hours, was almost overpowering ; 
 and, without regarding the squalidness of my 
 dress, and the look of famine and fatigue that 
 must have betrayed where I had been, I 
 should have Tushed into the chamber. But 
 at that moment the third trumpet sounded. 
 I had now no time for the things of this 
 world. I plunged into the bath, cleansed 
 myself from the pollution of the mountain, 
 hastily girt on me the sacerdotal tunic and 
 girdle; and with the sacred fillet on my 
 burning brow, and the censer in my shaking 
 hand, passed through the cloisters-, and took 
 my place before the altar. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of all the labors of human wealth and 
 power devoted to worship, the temple within 
 whose courts I then stood was the most 
 mighty. In my after years, the years of my 
 unhappy wanderings, far from the graves of 
 my kindred, I have seen all the most famous 
 shrines of the great kingdoms of idolatry. 
 Constrained by cruel circumstance, and the 
 still sterner cruelty of man, I have stood before 
 the altar of the Ephesian Diana, the master- 
 piece of Ionian splendor ; I have strayed 
 through the woods of Delphi, and been made 
 a reluctant witness of the superb mysteries 
 of that chief of the oracles of imposture. 
 Dragged in chains, I have been forced to 
 join the procession round the Minerva of the 
 Acropolis, and almost forgot my chains in 
 wonder at that monument of a genius which 
 ought to have been consecrated only to the 
 true God by whom it was given. The tem- 
 ple of the Capitoline Jove, the Sancta Sophia 
 of the Rome of Constantine, the still more 
 stupendous and costly fabric in which the 
 third Rome still bows before the fisherman 
 of Galilee ; all have been known to my step, 
 that knows all things but rest ; but all were 
 dreams and shadows to the grandeur, the 
 dazzling beauty, the almost unearthly glory of 
 that temple which once covered the “ Mount 
 of Vision” of the City of the Lord. 
 
 At the distance of almost two thousand 
 years, I have its image on my mind’s eye 
 with living and painful fulness. I see the 
 court of the Gentiles circling the whole; a 
 fortress of the whitest marble, with its wall 
 rising six hundred feet from the valley ; its 
 kingly entrance, worthy of the fame of Solo- 
 
6 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 mon ; its innumerable and stately dwellings 
 for the priests and officers of the temple, and 
 above them, glittering like a succession of 
 diadems, those alabaster porticoes and colon- 
 nades in which the chiefs and sages of Jeru- 
 salem sat teaching the people, or walked, 
 breathing the pure air, and gazing on the 
 grandeur of a landscape which swept the 
 whole amphitheatre of the mountains. I 
 see, rising above this stupendous boundary, 
 the court of the Jewish women, separated by 
 its porphyry pillars and richly sculptured 
 wall ; above this, the separated court of the 
 men; still higher, the court of the priests; 
 and highest, the crowning splendor of all, 
 the central temple, the place of the Sanc- 
 tuary, and of the Holy of Holies, covered 
 with plates of gold, its roof planted with 
 lofty spear-heads of gold, the most precious 
 marbles and metals every where flashing 
 back the day, till Mount Moriah stood forth 
 to the eye of the stranger approaching Jeru- 
 salem, what it had been so often described by 
 its bards and people, a “ mountain of snow 
 studded with jewels.” 
 
 The grandeur of the worship was worthy 
 of this glory of architecture. Four-and-tw r en- 
 ty thousand Levites ministered by turns, — a 
 thousand at a time. Four thousand more 
 performed the lower offices. Four thousand 
 singers and minstrels, with the harp, the 
 trumpet, and all the richest instruments of a 
 land, whose, native genius was music, and 
 whose climate and landscape led men instinc- 
 tively to delight in the charm of sound, chan- 
 ted the inspired songs of our warrior king, 
 and filled up the pauses of prayer with har- 
 monies that transported the spirit beyond the 
 cares and passions of a troubled world. 
 
 I was standing before the altar of burnt- 
 offering, with the Levite at my side holding 
 the lamb ; the cup was in my hand, and 1 
 was about to pour the wine on the victim, 
 when I was startled by the sound of hurried 
 feet. In another moment the veil of the 
 porch was abruptly thrown back, and a figure 
 rushed in ; it was the high priest, but not in 
 tlie robes of ceremony which it was custom- 
 ary for him to wear in the seasons of the 
 greater festivals. He was covered with the 
 common vesture of the priesthood, and was 
 evidently anxious to use it for total conceal- 
 ment. His face was buried in the fold of his 
 cloak, and he walked with blind precipitation 
 towards the subterranean passage which led 
 from the sanctuary to his cloister. But he 
 had scarcely reached it, when a new feeling 
 stopped him ; and he turned towards the al- 
 tar, where I was standing in mute surprise. 
 The cloak fell from his visage ; it was pale 
 as death ; the habitual sternness of feature 
 which rendered him a terror to the people, 
 had collapsed into feebleness ; while he gazed 
 
 on the fire, it accidentally blazed up, and I 
 thought I saw the glistening of a tear on a 
 cheek that had never exhibited human emo- 
 tion before. But no time was left for ques- 
 tion, even if reverence had not restrained me. 
 He suddenly grasped the head of the lamb, 
 as was customary for those who offered up 
 an expiation for their own sins; his lip, ashy 
 white, quivered with broken prayer; then, 
 snatching the knife from the Levite, he plun- 
 ged it into the animal’s throat, and with his 
 hands covered with blood, and with a groan 
 that echoed despair, again rushed distracted- 
 ly away ! 
 
 The victim still burned upon the altar, and 
 I was offering up the incense, when the in- 
 creasing sounds abroad told me that the de- 
 serted courts were filling once more. But 
 the sounds grew with an extraordinary rapid- 
 ity; they were 60on all but tumultuous. The 
 sanctuary in which I stood was almost wholly 
 lighted by the lamps that burned round the 
 walls, and the fitful blaze of the altar, whose 
 fires were never suffered to be extinguished. 
 But when, at length, unable to suppress my 
 alarm at the growing uproar, I went to the 
 porch, I left comparative day behind me ; a 
 gloom sicklier than that of tempest, and thick- 
 er than that of smoke, overspread the sky. The 
 sun, which I had seen like a fiery buckler 
 hanging over the city, was utterly gone. 
 While I looked, the darkness deepened, and 
 the blackness of night, of night without a star, 
 fell far and wide upon the horizon. 
 
 It has been my fate, and a fearful part of 
 my punishment, always to conceive that the 
 calamities of nature and nations were con- 
 nected with my crime. I have tried to rea- 
 son away this impression ; but it has clung 
 to me like an iron chain ; like the shirt of the 
 Centaur, nothing could tear it away that left 
 the life ; I have felt it hanging over my brain 
 with the weight of a thunder-cloud. As I 
 glanced into the gloom, the thought smote 
 me, that it was I who had brought this Egyp- 
 tian plague, this horrid privation of the first 
 element of life upon my country, perhaps 
 upon the world, perhaps never to be relieved ; 
 for it came condensing depth on depth, till it 
 seemed to have excluded all possibility of the 
 existence of light ; it was like that of our old 
 oppressors, darkness that might be felt, the 
 darkness of an universal grave. 
 
 I formed my fierce determination at once ; 
 and resolved to fly from my priesthood, from 
 my kindred, from my country ; to linger out 
 my days my bitter, banished, blasted days, in 
 some wilderness, where my presence would 
 not be a curse, where but the lion and the 
 tiger should be my fellow dwellers, where 
 the sands could not be made the more barren 
 for my fatal tread, nor the fountains more 
 bitter for my desperate and eternal tears. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 7 
 
 The singular presence of mind found in 
 some men in the midst of universal perturba- 
 tion, one of the most effective qualities of our 
 nature, and attributed to the highest vigor of 
 heart and understanding, is not always de- 
 serving of such proud parentage. It is some- 
 times the child of mere brute ignorance of 
 danger, sometimes of habitual ferocity, — in 
 my instance it was that of madness — the 
 fierce energy that leads the maniac safe over 
 roofs and battlements. All in the temple 
 was confusion. The priests lay flung at the 
 feet of the altars ; or, clinging together in 
 groups of helplessness and dismay, waited 
 speechless for the devastation that was to 
 visit them in this unnatural night. I walked 
 through all, without a fear or a hope under 
 heaven. 
 
 Through the solid gloom and among heaps 
 of men and sacred things cast under my feet, 
 like the spoil and corpses of some stormed 
 camp, I made my way to my dwelling direct 
 and unimpeded, as if I walked in the light 
 of day. I found my wife in deeper terror at 
 my long absence than even at the darkness. 
 She sprang forward to my voice, and, falling 
 on my neck, shed the tears of joy and love. 
 But few words passed between us, and but 
 few were necessary to bid her with her babe 
 follow me. She would have followed me to 
 the ends of the earth. 
 
 Oh Miriam, Miriam, how often have I 
 thought of thee in my long pilgrimage ! how 
 often, like that of a spirit descended to min- 
 ister consolation to the wanderer, have I 
 seen, in my midnight watching, thy counte- 
 nance of more than woman’s beauty ! To 
 me thou hast never died. Thy more than 
 man’s loftiness of soul, thy generous fidelity 
 of love to a wayward and unhappy heart ; 
 thy patient treading with me along the path 
 that I had sowed with the thorn and thistle 
 for thy feet, but which should have been 
 covered with the wealth of princes to be 
 worthy of thy loveliness and thy virtues ; all 
 rise in memory and condemnation before the 
 chief of sinners. Age after age have I 
 travelled to thy lonely grave ; age after age 
 have I wept and prayed upon the dust that 
 was once perfection. In all the hardness 
 forced upon me by a stem world ; in all the 
 hatred of mankind that the insolence of the 
 barbarian and the persecutor has bound round 
 my bosom like a mail of iron, I have pre- 
 served one source of feeling sacred ; a soli- 
 tary fount to feed the little vegetation of a 
 withered heart, the love of thee : perhaps to 
 be a sign of that regenerate time, when the 
 curse shall be withdrawn ; perhaps to be in 
 mercy, the source from which that more than 
 desert, thy husband’s soul, shall be refreshed, 
 and the barrenness flourish with the flowers 
 of the paradise of God ! 
 
 Throwing off my robe of priesthood, as 1 
 then thought, for ever, I went forth, leading 
 my heroic wife in one hand, and bearing my 
 child in the other. I had left behind me 
 sumptuous things, wealth transmitted from a 
 long line of illustrious ancestry. I cared not 
 for them. Wealth a thousand times more 
 precious was within my embrace. Yet when 
 [ touched the threshold, the last sensation of 
 divorce from all that I had been, came over 
 my mind. My wife felt the trembling of my 
 frame, and, with that gentle firmness which 
 in the hour of trouble often exalts the forti- 
 tude of woman above the headlong and in- 
 flamed courage of the warrior, she bade me 
 be of good cheer. I felt her lips on my hand 
 at the moment ; the touch gave new energy 
 to my whole being ; and I bounded forward 
 into the ocean of darkness. 
 
 Without impediment or error, I made my 
 way over and among the crowds that strewed 
 the court of the Gentiles. I heard many a 
 prayer and many a groan; but I had now no 
 more to do with man ; and forced my way 
 steadily to the great portal. Thus far, if 1 
 had been stricken with utter blindness, I 
 could not have been less guided by the eye. 
 But, on passing into the streets, of the lower 
 city, a scattered torch, from time to time, 
 struggling through the darkness, like the 
 lamp in a sepulchre, gave me glimpses of the 
 scene. 
 
 The broad avenues were encumbered with 
 the living in semblance of the dead. All 
 was prostration, or those attitudes into which 
 men are thrown by terror beyond the strength 
 or spirit of man to resist. The cloud that, 
 from my melancholy bed above the valley of 
 Hinnom, I had seen rolling up the hills, was 
 this multitude. A spectacle, whose name 
 shall never pass my lips, had drawn them all 
 by a cruel, a frantic, curiosity out of Jeru- 
 salem, and left it the solitude that had sur- 
 prised me. Preternatural eclipse and horror 
 fell on them, and their thousands madly rush- 
 ed back to perish, if perish they must, within 
 the walls of the City of Holiness. Still the 
 multitude came pouring in ; their distant 
 trampling had the sound of a cataract ; and 
 their out-cries of pain, and rage, and terror, 
 were like what I have since heard, but more 
 feebly, sent up from the field of battle. 
 
 I struggled on, avoiding the living torrent 
 by the ear, and slowly threading my way 
 wherever I heard the voices least numerous; 
 but my task was one of extreme toil ; and 
 but for those, more than all the treasures of 
 the earth to me, whose lives depended on 
 my efforts, I should have willingly lain down, 
 and suffered the multitude to trample me 
 into the grave. How long 1 thus struggled 
 I know not But a yell of peculiar and uni- 
 versal terror that burst round me, made me 
 
8 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 turn my reluctant eyes towards Jerusalem. 
 The cause of this new alarm was seen at once. 
 A large sphere of fire fiercely shot through 
 the heavens, lighting its tract down the 
 murky air, and casting a disastrous and pal- 
 lid illumination on the myriads of gazers 
 below. It stopped above the city, and ex- 
 ploded in thunder, flashing over the whole 
 horrizon, but covering the temple with a 
 blaze which gave it the aspect of a huge mass 
 of metal glowing in the furnace. Every out- 
 line of the architecture, every pillar, every 
 pinnacle, was seen with a livid and terrible 
 distinctness. Again all vanished. I heard 
 the hollow roar of an earthquake ; the ground 
 rose and heaved under our teet. 1 heard 
 the crash ot buildings, the fall of fragments 
 of the hills, and, louder than both, the groan 
 of the multitude. I caught my wife and 
 child closer to my bosom. In the next mo- 
 ment, I felt the ground give way beneath 
 me ; a sulphureous vapor took away my 
 breath, and I was caught up in a whirlwind 
 of dust and ashes ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When I recovered my senses, all was so 
 much changed round me, that I could scarce- 
 ly be persuaded that either the past or the 
 present was not a dream. I had no con- 
 sciousness of any interval between them, 
 more than that of having closed my eyes at 
 one instant, to open them at the next. Yet 
 the curtains of a tent waved round me in a 
 breeze fragrant with the breath of roses and 
 the balsam-tree. Beyond the gardens and 
 meadows, from which those odors sprang, a 
 river shone, like a path of lapis lazuli, in the 
 calm effulgence of the western sun. Tents 
 were pitched, from which I heard the sounds 
 of pastoral instruments ; camels were drink- 
 ing and grazing along the river-side ; and 
 turbaned men and maidens were ranging 
 over the fields, or sitting on the banks to en- 
 joy the cool of the delicious evening. 
 
 1 While I tried to collect my senses, and 
 discover whether this was more than one of 
 those sports of a wayward fancy which tan- 
 talize the bed of a sick mind, I heard a low 
 hymn ; and listened to the sounds with 
 breathless anxiety. The voice I knew at 
 once— it was Miriam’s. But in the disorder 
 of my brain, and the strange circumstances 
 which had filled the late days, in that total 
 feebleness too in which 1 could not move a 
 limb or utter a word, a persuasion seized me 
 that I was already beyond the final boundary 
 of mortals. All before me was like that 
 paradise from which the crime of our great 
 forefather had driven man into banishment. 
 
 I remembered the convulsion of the earth 
 into which I had sunk ; and asked myself, 
 could man be wrapped in the flame, and the 
 whirlwind that tore up mountains like the 
 roots of flowers, and yet live ? Still it was 
 pain to me to think that the lovely and the 
 young should have so soon gone down to the 
 grave — that Miriam should have been cutoff 
 from the long enjoyment of life due to her gen- 
 tle virtue — that a creature, delicate of form, 
 and beautiful as the young vine, should have 
 been torn away from the world by the grasp 
 of a death so sudden and terrible. 
 
 In this perplexity I closed my eyes to col- 
 lect my thoughts ; and probably exhibited 
 some strong emotion of countenance ; for I 
 was roused by a cry — “ Pie lives, he lives !” 
 1 looked up, Miriam stood before me, clasp- 
 ing her lovely hands with the wildness of 
 joy unspeakable, and shedding tears, that, 
 large and lustrous, fell down her glowing 
 cheeks, like dew upon the pomegranate. 
 She threw herself upon my pillow, kissed my 
 forehead with lips that breathed new life into 
 me; then pressing my chili hand between 
 hers, knelt down, and with a look worthy of 
 that heaven on which it was fixed, radiant 
 with beauty and holiness and joy, as the face 
 of an angel, offered up her thanksgiving. 
 
 The explanation of the scene that per- 
 plexed me was given in a few words, inter- 
 rupted only by tears and sighs of delight. 
 With the burst of the earthquake, the super- 
 natural darkness was cleared away. I was 
 flung under the shelter of one of those caves 
 which abound in the gorges of the mountains 
 round Jerusalem. Miriam, and her infant, 
 were flung by my side, yet unhurt. While 
 I lay insensible in her arms, she, by singular 
 good fortune, found herself surrounded by a 
 troop of our kinsmen, returning from the 
 city, where terror had suffered but few to re- 
 main. They placed her and her infant on 
 their camels. Me they would have consign- 
 ed to the sepulchre of the priests; but Miriam 
 was not to be shaken in her purpose to watch 
 over me until all hope was gone. I was 
 thus carried along; and they were now 
 three days on their journey homewards. 
 The landscape before me was Samaria. 
 
 My natural destination would have been 
 the cities of the priests, which lay to the 
 south, bordering upon Hebron. In those 
 thirteen opulent and noble residences allot- 
 ted to the higher ministry of the templp, 
 they enjoyed all that could be offered by the 
 munificent wisdom of the state; — wealth 
 that raised them above the pressures of life, 
 yet not so great as to extinguish the power 
 of intellectual distinction, or the love of the 
 loftier virtues. The means of mental cul- 
 tivation were provided for them, with more 
 than royal liberality. Copies of the sacred 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 9 
 
 books, multiplied in every form, and adorned 
 with the finest skill of the pencil and the 
 sculptor in gold and other precious materials, 
 attested at once the reverence of the nation 
 for its law, and the perfection to which it 
 had brought the decorative arts. The works 
 of strangers, eminent for genius or know- 
 ledge, or even for the singularity of their 
 subject, were not less to be found in those 
 stately treasure-houses of mind. There the 
 priest might relax his spirit from the sub- 
 limer studies of his 'country, by the bold and 
 brilliant epic of Greece ; the fantastic pas- 
 sion, and figured beauty of the Persian poesy ; 
 or the alternate severity and sweetness of 
 the Indian drama : — that startling union of 
 all lovely images of nature, the bloom and 
 fragrance of flowers, the hues of the oriental 
 heaven, and the perfumes of isles of spice 
 and cinnamon, with the grim and subter- 
 ranean terrors of a gigantic idolatry. There 
 he might spread the philosophic wing from 
 the glittering creations of Grecian metaphy- 
 sics, to their dark and early oracles in the 
 East ; or, stopping in the central flight, 
 plunge into the profound of Egyptian mys- 
 tery, where science lies, like the mummy, 
 wrapped in a thousand folds that preserve 
 the form, but preserve it with the living prin- 
 ciple gone. 
 
 Music, of all pleasures the most intellect- 
 ual, that glorious painting to the ear, that 
 rich mastery of the gloomier emotions of our 
 nature, was studied by the priesthood with a 
 skill that influenced the habits of the coun- 
 try. How often have my fiercest perturba- 
 tions sunk at the sounds that once filled the 
 breezes of Judea! How often, when my 
 brain was burning, and the blood ran through 
 my veins like molten brass, have I been soft- 
 ened down to painless tears, by the chorus 
 from our hills, the mellow harmonies of harp 
 and horn, blending with the voices of the 
 youths and maidens of Israel ! How often 
 have I in the night listened, while the chant, 
 ascending with a native richness to which 
 the skill of other nations was dissonance, 
 floated upwards like a cloud of incense bear- 
 ing the aspirations of holiness and gratitude 
 to the throne of Him whom man hath not 
 seen, nor can seel 
 
 But those times are sunk deep in the great 
 gulf, that absorbs the happiness and genius 
 of man. I have since traversed my country 
 in its length and breadth ; I have marked 
 with my weary feet every valley, and made 
 my restless bed upon every hill from Idumea 
 to Lebanon, and from the Assyrian sands to 
 the waters of the Mediterranean ; yet the 
 harp and voice were dead. I heard sounds 
 on the hills; but they were the cries of the 
 villagers flying before some tyrant gatherer 
 of a tyrant’s tribute. I heard sounds in the 
 
 midnight; but they were the howl of the 
 wolf, and the yell of the hyaena, revelling 
 over the naked and dishonored graves which 
 the Turk had given in his scorn to the peo- 
 ple of my fathers. 
 
 But the study to which the largest expen- 
 diture of wealth and labor was devoted, was 
 as it ought to be, that of the sacred books of 
 Israel. It only makes me rebellious against 
 the decrees of fate, to think of the incom- 
 parable richness and immaculate character 
 of the volumes over which I have so often 
 hung; and look upon the diminished and de- 
 graded exterior in which their wisdom now 
 lies before man. Where are now the cases 
 covered with jewels, the clasps of topaz and 
 diamond 1 the golden arks in which the vol- 
 ume of the hope of Israel lay, too precious 
 not to be humiliated by the contact with 
 even the richest treasure of earth 1 Where 
 are the tissued curtains, that hid, as in a 
 sanctuary, that mighty roll, too sacred to be 
 glanced on by the casual eye 1 But the 
 spoiler — the spoiler ! The Arab, the Par- 
 thian, the human tiger of the north, that lies 
 crouching for a thousand years in the sheep- 
 fold of Judah! Is there not a sword 1 — Is 
 there not a judgment! — Terribly will it judge 
 the oppressor. 
 
 The home of my kinsmen was in the allot- 
 ment of Naphtali. The original tribe re- 
 volted in the general schism of the kingdoms 
 of Judah and Isreal ; and was swept into the 
 Assyrian captivity. But on the restoration 
 by Cyrus, fragments of all the captive tribes 
 returned, and were suffered to resume their 
 lands. Misfortune wrought its moral on 
 them: the chief families pledged their alle- 
 giance once more to Judah, and were exem- 
 plary in paying homage to the spirit and ordi- 
 nances of their religion. 
 
 We speeded through the hated soil of 
 Samaria. The hand of Heaven is not as the 
 hand of man. Its blow is not given but in 
 justice : and it leaves a deep and fearful 
 trace behind. Its wrath, like its own tempest, 
 gathers long above the eye ; but when it 
 strikes, the scorched and shattered land 
 gives stern evidence that there the fiery 
 ploughshare has been driven. By the Baby- 
 lonish captivity, the whole strength of the 
 chosen people suffered a shock, from which 
 it never fully rose again. The richest por- 
 tion of Canaan, its central tract, cutting off 
 the northern from the southern tribes, and 
 lying between its chief river and the sea, 
 was alienated to worse than strangers — to a 
 mingled race of apostate Jews, Assyrian 
 plunderers, and refugees from Arabia and 
 Syria. For a perpetual brand on the Jewish 
 name, the last infliction of a hostile and im- 
 pure worship was raised among them; and 
 ion Mount Gerizim stood a temple to which 
 
10 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 Samaria paid its homage, the rival of the 
 temple of Jerusalem. 
 
 The rancorous enmity borne by the Samari- 
 tans to the subjects of Judah, for ages made 
 all intercourse between Jerusalem and the 
 north difficult. It was often totally inter- 
 rupted by war — it was dangerous in peace ; 
 and the ferocious character of the population, 
 and the bitter antipathy of the government, 
 made it to the Jew a land of robbers. 
 
 But among the evils of the Roman con- 
 quest, was mingled this good, that it suffered 
 no subordinate tyranny. Its sword cut away 
 at a blow all those minor oppressions which 
 make the misery of provincial life. If the 
 mountain robber invaded the plain, as was 
 his custom of old, the Roman cavalry were 
 instantly on him with the spear, until he took 
 refuge in the mountains — if he resisted in 
 his native fastnesses, the legionaries pursued 
 him with torch and sword, stifled him if he 
 remained in his cave, or stabbed him at its 
 mouth. 
 
 If quarrels arose between two villages, the 
 cohorts burned both to the ground : — and the 
 execution was done witli a promptitude and 
 completeness that less resembled the ordi- 
 nary operations of war, than the work of 
 superhuman power. The Roman knowledge 
 of our disturbances was instantaneous. Sig- 
 nals established on the hills conveyed intelli- 
 gence with the speed of light from the re- 
 motest corners of the land to their principal 
 stations. Even in our subsequent conspira- 
 cies, the first knowledge that they had broken 
 out was often conveyed to their partisans in 
 the next district by the movement of the Ro- 
 man troops. Well had they chosen the eagle 
 for their ensign. They rushed with the eagle’s 
 rapidity on their victim ; and when it was 
 stretched in blood, they left the spot of ven- 
 geance, as if they had left it on the wing. 
 Their march had the rapidity of the most 
 hurried retreat, and the steadiness of the 
 most secure triumph. They left nothing be- 
 hind, but the marks of their irresistible 
 power. 
 
 All the armies of the earth have since 
 passed before me. I have seen the equals 
 of the legions in courage and discipline; and 
 their superiors in those arms by which hu- 
 man life is at the caprice of ambition. But 
 their equals I have never seen in the individual 
 fitness of the soldier for war; in his fleetness, 
 muscular vigor, and expertness in the use of 
 his weapons; in his quick adaptation to all the 
 multiplied purposes of the ancient campaign 
 — from the digging of a trench, or the man- 
 agement of a catapult, to the assault of a cita- 
 del ; in his iron endurance of the vicissitudes 
 of climate ; in the length and regularity of 
 his marches; or in the rapidity, boldness, and 
 dexterity of his manoeuvres in the field. Yet, 
 
 it is but a melancholy tribute to the valor of 
 | my countrymen, to record the Roman ac- 
 knowledgment, that of all the nations con- 
 jquered by Rome, Judea bore the chain with 
 the haughtiest dignity, and most frequently 
 and fiercely contested the supremacy of the 
 sword. 
 
 Under that stern supremacy the Samari- 
 tan had long shrunk, and Canaan enjoyed an 
 exemption from the harrassing cruelty of 
 (petty war. We now passed with our long 
 caravan unguarded, and moving at will 
 through fields rich with the luxuriance of an 
 Eastern summer, where our fathers would 
 have scarcely ventured but with an army. I 
 made no resistance to being thus led away 
 to a region so remote from my own. To have 
 returned to the cities of the priests, would 
 have but given me hourly agony. 
 
 Even the gates of Jerusalem were to my 
 feelings anathema. The whole fabric of my 
 mind had undergone a revolution ; like a 
 man tossed at the mercy of the tempest, I 
 sought but a shore — and all shores were 
 alike to him who must be an exile for ever! 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The country through which we passed, 
 after leaving the boundaries of Samaria — 
 where, with all its peace, no Jew could 
 tread, but as in a land of strangers — was 
 new to me. My life had been till now spent 
 in study, or in serving the altar; and I had 
 heard, with the usual and unwise indiffer- 
 ence of men devoted to books, the praise of 
 the picturesque and stately provinces that 
 still remained to our People. I was now to 
 see for myself; and be compelled, as we ad- 
 vanced, to reproach the idle prejudice that 
 had thus long deprived me, and might for 
 ever deprive so many of my consecrated 
 brethren, of an enjoyment cheering to the 
 human heart, and full of lofty and hallowed 
 memory to the man of Israel. 
 
 As we passed along, less travelling than 
 wandering at pleasure, through regions 
 where every winding of the marble hill, or 
 ascent of the lovely and fruitful valley, show 7 - 
 ed us some sudden and romantic beauty of 
 landscape, my kinsmen took a natural pride 
 in pointing out the noble features that made 
 Canaan a living history of Providence. 
 
 What were even the trophy-covered hill 
 of Greece, or the monumental plains of Italy, 
 to the hills and plains where the memorial 
 told of the miracles, and the presence of the 
 Supreme. “ Look to that rock,” they would 
 exclaim, “there descended the angel of the 
 Presence ! On the summit of that cloudy 
 ridge stood Ezekiel, when he saw the vision 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 11 
 
 of the latter days. Look to yonder cleft in 
 the mountains — there fell the lightning from 
 heaven on the Philistine.” 
 
 In our travel we reached a valley, a spot 
 of singular beauty and seclusion, blushing; 
 with Sowers, and sheeted with the olive 
 from its edge down to a stream that rushed 
 brightly through its bosom. There was no 
 dwelling of man in it; but on a gentler slope 
 of the declivity stood a gigantic terebinth- 
 tree. More than curiosity was attracted by 
 this delicious spot, for the laugh and talking 
 of the caravan had instantly subsided at the 
 sight. All, by a common impulse, dismounted 
 from their horses and camels ; and though it 
 was still far from sunset, the tents were 
 pitched, and preparations made for prayer. 
 The spot reminded me of the valley of He- 
 bron, sacred to the Jewish heart as the burial: 
 place of Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac; — may 
 they sleep in the bosom of the Lord ! The 
 
 terebinth-tree, under which the greatestof the 
 patriarchs sat and talked with the angels — the 
 fountain — the cave of Macpelah, in which his 
 mortal remnant returned to the earth, to come 
 again in glory, appeared to lie before me. 
 
 From the day of my unspeakable crime Iliad 
 never joined in prayer with my people. I 
 was still a believer in the faith of Israel. I 
 even clung to it with the nervous violence 
 of one who, in a shipwreck, feels that his only j 
 hope is the plank in his grasp; and that some 1 
 more powerful hand is tearing even that plank ; 
 away. But the sight of human beings enjoy- 
 ing the placid consolations of prayer, had from 
 the first moment overwhelmed me with so 
 keen a sense of my misfortune — the pious 
 gentleness of attitude and voice — the calm 
 uplifted hand, and low and solemn aspiration, 
 were so deep a contrast to the involuntary 
 wildness and broken utterings of a heart 
 bound in more than adamantine chains ; that I 
 shrank from the rebuke, and howled in solitude. 
 
 I went forth into the valley, and was soon 
 lost in its thick vegetation. The sound of 
 the hymn that sank down in mingled sweet- 
 ness with the murmuring of the evening air 
 tjirough the leaves, and the bubbling of the 
 brook below, alone, told me that I was near 
 human beings. I sat upon a fragment of turf, 
 embroidered as never was kingly footstool, 
 and with my hands clasped on my eyes, to 
 remove from me all the images of life, gave 
 way to that visionary and wasteful mood of 
 mind, in which ideas come and pass in crowds 
 without shape, and leaving no more impres- 
 sion than the drops of a sun-shower on the 
 trees. I had remained long in this half 
 dreaming confusion, and had almost imagined 
 myself transported to some intermediate 
 realm of being, where a part of the affliction 
 was that of being startled by keen flashes of 
 light from this upper world, when I was 
 roused by the voice of Eleazar, the brother 
 of Miriam, at my side. 
 
 His manly and generous countenance ex- 
 pressed mingled anxiety and gladness at dis- 
 covering me. “ The whole camp,” said he, 
 “ have been alarmed at your absence, and 
 have searched, for these three hours, through 
 every part of our day’s journey. Miriam’s 
 distraction at length urged me to leave her ; 
 and it was by her instinct that I took my way 
 down the only path hitherto unsearched, and 
 where, indeed, from fear or reverence of the 
 place, few but myself would have willingly 
 come.” He called to an attendant, and send- 
 ing him up the side of the valley with the 
 tidings, we followed slowly, for I was still 
 feeble. As we emerged into an opener space, 
 the moon, lying on masses of cloud, like a 
 sultana pillowed on couches of silver, showed 
 me, in her strong illumination of the forest, 
 the flashes which had added to the bewildered 
 pain of my reverie. While I talked with 
 natural animation of the splendor of the hea- 
 vens, and pointed out the lines and figures 
 on the moon’s disk, which made it probable 
 that it vvas, like earth, a place of habitation ; 
 he suddenly pressed my hand, and stopping, 
 with his eyes fixed on my face, “ How,” said 
 he, “ does it happen, my friend, my brother, 
 
 Salathiel '!” 1 started, as if my name, the 
 
 name of my illustrious ancestor, direct in de- 
 scent from the father of the faithful, were an 
 accusation. He proceeded with but a more 
 ardent pressure of my quivering hand — “ How 
 is it to be accounted for, that you, with such 
 contemplations, and the knowledge that gives 
 them the dignity of science, can yet be so 
 habitually given over to gloom ? — Serious 
 crime I will not believe in you ; though the 
 best of us are stained. But your character is 
 pure : I know your nature to be too lofty for 
 the degenerate indulgence of the passions; 
 and Miriam’s love for you, a love passing that 
 of woman, is, of itself, a seal of virtue. An- 
 swer me — Can the wealth, power, or influ- 
 ence of your brother and his house, nay, of 
 his tribe, assist you 1” 
 
 1 was silent. He paused; and we walked 
 on awhile, without a sound but that of our 
 tread among the leaves : but his mind was 
 full, and it would have way. “ Salathiel,” 
 said he, “ you do injustice to yourself, to your 
 wife, and to your friends. This gloom that 
 sits eternally on your forehead, must wear 
 away all your uses in society : it bathes your 
 incomparable wife’s pillow in tears ; and it 
 disheartens and distresses us all. Answer 
 me as one man of honor and integrity would 
 another. Have you been disappointed in 
 your ambition 1 I know your claims. You 
 have knowledge surpassing that of a multi- 
 tude of your contemporaries; you have tal- 
 ents that ought to be honored ; your charac- 
 ter is unimpeached and unimpeachable. 
 Such things ought to have already lifted you 
 ito eminence. Have you found yourself 
 1 thwarted by the common trickery of official 
 
12 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 life 7 Has some paltry sycophant crept up 
 before you by the oblique patli that honor 
 dis ains 1 Or have you felt yourself an ex- 
 cluded and marked man, merely for the dis- 
 play of that manlier vigor, richer genius, and 
 more generous and sincere impulse of heart, 
 which, to the conscious inferiority ot the rab- 
 ble of understanding, is gall and wormwood ! 
 Or have you taken too deeply into your re- 
 sentment, the common criminal negligence 
 that besets common minds in power, and 
 makes them carelessly fling away upon in- 
 capacity, and guiltily withhold from worth, 
 the rewards which were intrusted to them, 
 as a sacred deposit, for the encouragement of 
 the national ability and virtue 1” 
 
 I strongly disavowed all conceptions of the 
 kind ; and assured him that I felt neither pe- 
 culiar merits nor peculiar injuries. I had 
 seen too much of what ambition and worldly 
 success were made of, to allow hope to ex- 
 cite, or failure to depress me. “ I am even,” 
 added I, “ so far from being the slave of that 
 most vulgar intemperance of a deranged 
 heart, the diseased craving for the miserable 
 indulgences of worldly distinction, that 
 would to heaven I might never again enter 
 the gates of Jerusalem.” 
 
 He started back in surprise. The confes- 
 sion had been altogether unintended ; and I 
 looked up to see the burst of Jewish wrath 
 descending upon me. I saw none. My 
 kinsman’s fine countenance was brightened 
 with a lofty joy. “ Then you have re- 
 nounced. — But no, it is yet too soon. At 
 your age, with your prospects, can you have 
 renounced the career offered to you among 
 the rulers of Israel 1” 
 
 “ I have renounced.” 
 
 “Sincerely, solemnly, upon conviction 1” 
 
 “ From the bottom of my soul ; now and 
 for ever !” 
 
 We had reached the open space in front 
 of the terebinth-tree that stood in majesty, 
 extending its stately branches over a space 
 cleared of all other trees, a sovereign of the 
 forest. In silence he led me under a shade 
 to a small tomb, on which the light fell with 
 broken lustre. “ This,” said he, “ is the 
 tomb of the greatest prophet on whose lips 
 the wisdom of Heaven ever burned. There 
 sleeps Isaiah ! — There is silent the voice that 
 for fifty years spoke more than the thoughts 
 of man in the ears of a guilty people. There 
 are cold the hands that struck the harp of more 
 than mortal sounds to the glory of Him to 
 whom earth and its kingdoms are but as the 
 dust of the balance. There lies the heart 
 which neither the desert nor the dungeon, nor 
 the teeth of the lion, nor the saw of Manns- 
 seh, could tame : — the denouncer of our crimes 
 — the scourge of our apostacy — the prophet 
 of that desolation which was to bow the 
 grandeur of Judah to the grave, as the tree 
 of the mountain in the whirlwind. Saint and 
 
 martyr, let my life be as thine ; and if it be the 
 will of God, let my death be even as thine.” 
 He threw himself on his knees, and re- 
 mained in prayer for a time. I knelt with 
 him, but no prayer would issue from my 
 heart. He at length rose, and leading me 
 into the moonlight, said in a low voice — “ Is 
 there not, where the holy sleep, a holiness 
 in the very ground 1 I waive all the super- 
 stitious feelings of the idolater, worshiping 
 the dust of the creature, for the king alike 
 of all. I passover the natural human hom- 
 age for the memory of those who have risen 
 above us by the great qualities of their 
 being. But if there are supernal influences 
 acting upon the mind of man ; if the winged 
 spirits that minister before the throne still 
 descend to earth on missions of mercy, I will 
 believe that their loved place is round the 
 grave where sleeps the mortal portion of the 
 holy. In all our journeys to the temple, it 
 has been the custom of our shattered and 
 humiliated tribe to pause beside this tomb, 
 and offer up our homage to that Mightiest of 
 the mighty, who made such men for the 
 lights of Israel !” 
 
 He earnestly repeated the question — 
 “ Have you abandoned your office 1” “ Yes,” 
 
 was the answer, “ totally ; with full purpose 
 never to resume it. In your mountains I will 
 live with you, and with you I will die.” Mem- 
 ory smote me as I pronounced the word : the 
 refuge of the grave was not for me ! 
 
 “ Then,” said he, “ you have relieved my 
 spirit of a load : you are now my more than 
 brother.” He clasped me in his arms. “ Yes, 
 Salathiel, I know that your high heart must 
 have scorned the prejudices of the Scribe 
 and the Pharisee; you must have seen 
 through and loathed the smiling hypocrisy, 
 the rancorous bigotry, the furious thirst of 
 blood, that are hourly sinking us below the 
 lowest of the heathen. Hating the tyranny 
 of the Roman, as 1 live this hour, I would 
 rather see the city of David inhabited by 
 none but the idolater, or delivered over to 
 the curse of Babylon, and made the couch of 
 the lion and the serpent, than 6ee its courts 
 filled with those impious traitors to the spirit 
 of the law, those cruel extortioners under 
 the mask of self-denial, those malignant 
 revelers in human torture under the name 
 of insulted religion ; whose joy is crime, and 
 every hour of whose being but wearies the 
 long-suffering of God, and precipitates the 
 ruin of my country.” 
 
 He drew from "his bosom and unrolled in 
 the moonlight a small copy of the scriptures. 
 “ My brother,” said he, “ have you read the 
 holy prophecies of him by whose grave we 
 | standi” My only answer was a smile ; they 
 | were the chief study ofthe priesthood. “ True,” 
 said he, “ no doubt you have read the words 
 lof the prophet. But Wisdom is known of her 
 children, and of them alone. Read here.” 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 13 
 
 I read the famous Haphtorah. “ Who 
 hath believed our report, and to whom is the 
 arm of the Lord revealed 1 For he shall 
 grow up before him as a tender plant, and as 
 a root out of the dry ground: he hath no 
 form nor comeliness ; and when we shall see 
 him, there is no beauty, that we should de- 
 sire him. He is despised, and rejected of 
 men ; a man of sorrow !” He stopped me, 
 laying his hand on my arm ; I felt his strong 
 nerves tremble like an infant’s. “ Of whom 
 hath the prophet spoken 1” uttered he, in a 
 voice of intense anxiety. “ Of whom ? of 
 the Deliverer, that is to restore Judah; Him 
 that is to come,” was my answer. “ Him 
 that is to come, still to come ?” he exclaimed. 
 “ God of Heaven, must the veil be for ever 
 on the face of thy Israel ! When shall our 
 darkness be light; and the chain of our spirit, 
 be broken !” The glow and power of his 
 countenance sank; he took the roll with a 
 sigh, and replaced it in his robe ; then, with 
 his hands clasped across his bosom, and his 
 head bowed, he led our silent way up the 
 side of the valley. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 We soon reached the hill country, and our 
 road passed through what were once the al- 
 lotments of Issacher, Zebulon, and Asher ; 
 but by the Roman division, was now Upper 
 Galilee. My health had been rapidly re- 
 stored by the exercise and the balmy air. 
 My more incurable disease was prevented by 
 the journey from perhaps totally engrossing 
 my mind. Of all the antagonists to mental 
 depression, travelling is the most vigorous : 
 not the flight from place to place, as if evil 
 was to be outrun; nor the enclosure of the 
 weary of life in some narrow vehicle that 
 adds fever and pestilence to heaviness of 
 heart; but the passing at our ease through 
 the open air and bright landscape of a new 
 country. 
 
 To me the novelty and loveliness of the 
 land were combined with the memory of the 
 most striking events in human record. I had, 
 too, the advantage of a companionship, which 
 would have enlivened travel through the 
 wilderness — brave and cheerful men ; and 
 women on whose minds and forms Nature 
 laid her finest stamp of beauty. The name 
 of Jew is now but another title for humilia- 
 tion. Who that sees that fallen thing, with 
 his countenance bent to the ground, and his 
 form withered of its comeliness, totering 
 through the proud streets of Europe in some 
 degrading occupation, and clothed in the 
 robes of the beggared and the despised, could 
 imagine the bold figures, and gallant bearing 
 of the lion hunters, with whom, in the midst 
 ot shouts and songs of careless joy, I spurred 
 niv barb up the mountain paths of Galilee 1 I 
 
 Yet, fallen as he is, the physiognomy of' 
 
 the Jew retains a share of its original beauty, 
 sufficient to establish the claim of the people 
 to have been the handsomest race on earth. 
 Individuals of superior comeliness may often 
 be found among the multitudes of mankind. 
 But no nation, nor distinct part of any nation, 
 can rival an equal number of the unhappy 
 exiles of Israel, in the original impress of 
 that hand which made man only a little 
 lower than the angels. To conceive the 
 Jew as he was, we should conceive the stern 
 and watchful contraction of the dark eye ex- 
 panded ; the fierce and rigid brow lowering 
 no more ; the lip no longer gathered in hab- 
 itual fear or scorn ; the cheek no longer 
 sallow with want or pining, and the whole 
 man elevated by the returning consciousness 
 that he has a rank among nations. All his 
 deformities have been the birth of his misfor- 
 tunes. What beauty can we demand from 
 the dungeon 1 — what dignity of aspect from 
 the hewers of wood and drawers of water for 
 mankind 1 Where shall we seek the magnifi- 
 cent form and illumined countenance of the 
 hero, and the sage 1 — from the heart cankered 
 by the chain, from the plundered, the enslaved, 
 the persecuted of two thousand years'! 
 
 Of the daughters of my country I have 
 never seen their equals in beauty. Our blood 
 was Arab, softened down by various changes 
 of state and climate, till it was finally 
 brought to perfection in the most genial air, 
 and the most generous soil of the globe. 
 The vivid features of the Arab countenance, 
 no longer attenuated by the desert, assumed, 
 in the plenty of Egypt, that fulness and fine 
 proportion which still belongs to the dwellers 
 by the Nile ; but the true change was on our 
 entrance into the promised land. Peace, the 
 possession of property, days spent among the 
 pleasant and healthful occupations of rural 
 life, are in themselves productive of the finer 
 developments of the human form ; a form 
 whose natural tendency is to beauty. But 
 our nation had an additional and unshared 
 source of nobleness of aspect; it was free. 
 The state of man in the most unfettered re- 
 publics of the ancient world was slavery, 
 compared with the magnanimous and secure 
 establishment of the Jewish commonwealth. 
 During the three hundred golden years from 
 Moses to Samuel, — before, for our sins, we 
 were given over to the madness of innovation, 
 and the demand of an earthly diadem, — the Jew 
 was free, in the loftiest sense of freedom ; 
 free to do all good ; restricted only from 
 evil; every man pursuing the unobstructed 
 course pointed out by his genius or his for- 
 tune; every man protected by laws invio- 
 lable, or whose violation was instantly visited 
 with punishment by the Eternal Sovereign 
 alike of ruler and people. 
 
 Freedom ! twin-sister of Virtue, thou 
 brightest of all the spirits descended in the 
 train of Religion from the throne of God ; 
 
14 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 thou that leadest up man again to the early' 
 glories of his being; angel from the circle: 
 of whose presence happiness spreads like the 1 
 sun-light over the darkness of the land ! at 
 the waving of whose sceptre, knowledge, and 
 peace, and fortitude, and wisdom, stoop upon 
 the wing ; at the voice of whose trumpet the 
 more than grave is broken, and slavery gives 
 up her dead ; when shall I see thy coming 1 
 When shall I hear thy summons upon the 
 mountains of my country, and rejoice in the 
 regeneration and glory of the sons of Judah 1 
 
 I have traversed nations ; and as I set my 
 foot upon their boundary, 1 have said, Free- 
 dom is not here ! 1 saw the naked hill, the 
 
 morass streaming with death, the field cov- 
 ered with weedy fallow, the sickly thicket 
 encumbering the land ; — I saw the still more 
 infallible signs, the downcast visage, the form 
 degraded at once by loathsome indolence and 
 desperate poverty ; the peasant cheerless and 
 feeble in his field, the wolfish robber, the 
 population of the cities crowded into huts 
 and cells with pestilence for their fellow; — 1 
 saw the contumely of man to man, the furious 
 vindictiveness of popular rage, and 1 pronounc- 
 ed at the moment, This people is not free. 
 
 In the republics of heathen antiquity, the 
 helot, the client sold for the extortion of the 
 patron, and the born bondsman, lingering out 
 life in thankless toil, at once put to flight all 
 conceptions of freedom. In the midst of al- 
 tars fuming to liberty, of harangues glowing 
 with the most pompous protestations of scorn 
 for servitude, of crowds inflated with the pre- 
 sumption that they disdained a master, the 
 eye was insulted with the perpetual chain. 
 The temple of Liberty was built upon the 
 dungeon. Rome came, and unconsciously 
 avenged the insulted name of freedom ; the 
 master and the slave were bowed together; 
 the dungeon was made the common dwell- 
 ing of all. 
 
 In the Italian republics of after ages, 1 saw 
 the vigor that, living in the native soil of 
 empire, has always sprung up on the first 
 call. The time was changed since Italy 
 poured its legions over the world. The vol- 
 cano was now sleeping; yet the fire still 
 burned within its womb, and threw out in 
 its invisible strength the luxuriant qualities 
 of the land of power. The innate Roman 
 passion for sovereignty W'as no longer to find 
 its triumphs in the field ; it rushed up the 
 paths of a loftier and more solid glory with a 
 speed and strength that left mankind wonder- 
 ing below. The arts, adventure, legislation, 
 literature in all its shapes, of the subtle, the 
 rich and the sublime, were the peaceful tri- 
 umphs, whose laurels will entwine the Ital- 
 ian brow, when the wreath of the Caesars is 
 remembered but as a badge of national folly 
 and crime. 
 
 But those republics knew freedom only by 
 the name. All, within a few years from 
 
 their birth, abandoned its living principles — 
 justice, temperance, and truth. I saw the 
 soldiery of neighbor cities marching to mu- 
 tual devastation, and I said, Freedom is not 
 here ! I saw abject privation mingled with 
 boundless luxury ; in the midst of the noblest 
 works of architecture, the hovel ; in the 
 pomps of citizens covered with cloth of gold, 
 gazing groups of faces haggard with beggary 
 and sin ; I saw the sold tribunal, the inexor- 
 able state prison, the established spy, the 
 protected assassin, the secret torture ; and I 
 said, Freedom is not here! The pageant 
 filled the streets with more than kingly bla- 
 zonry, the trumpets flourished, the multitude 
 shouted, the painter covered the walls with 
 immortal emblems in honor of freedom ; I 
 pointed to the dungeon, the rack, and the 
 dagger ! Bitterer and deeper sign than all, 
 I pointed to the exile of exiles, the broken 
 man, whom even the broken trample, of all 
 the undone the roost undone, my outcast bro- 
 ther in the blood of Abraham ! 
 
 I am not about to be his defender ; I am 
 not regardless of his tremendous crime: I 
 cannot stand up alone against the voice of 
 universal man, which has cried out that thus 
 it shall be ; but I say it from the depths of 
 my soul, and as I hope for rest to my miseries, 
 that 1 never saw freedom survive in that land 
 which loved to smite the Jew ! 
 
 I saw one republic, the mightiest and the 
 last ; for the justice of Heaven on the land, 
 the most terrible ; for the mercy of Heaven 
 to mankind, the briefest in its devastation. 
 But there all was hypocrisy that was not 
 open horror; the only equal rights were 
 those of the equal robber ; the sacred figure 
 of liberty veiled its face ; and the offering on 
 its violated shrine was the spoil of honor, 
 bravery, and virtue. 
 
 The daughters of our nation, sharing in 
 the rights of its sons, bore the lofty impres- 
 sion that virtuous freedom always stamps on 
 the human features. But they had the softer 
 graces of their sex in a degree unequalled in 
 the ancient world. While the woman of the 
 East was immured behind bolts and bars, 
 from time immemorial a prisoner; and the 
 woman of the West was a toy, a savage, or 
 a slave ; our wives and maidens enjoyed the 
 intercourses of society, which their talents 
 were well calculated to cheer and adorn. 
 They were skilled on the harp; their sweet 
 voices were tuned to the richest strains of 
 earth ; they were graceful in the dance; the 
 writings of our bards were in their hands ; 
 and what nation ever possessed such illus- 
 trious founts of thought and virtue 1 
 
 But there was another and still higher 
 ground for that peculiar expression which 
 makes their countenance still lighten before 
 me, as something of more than mortal 
 beauty. The earliest consciousness of every 
 Jewish woman was — that she might, in the 
 
Salat hi el. 
 
 15 
 
 hand of Providence, be the sacred source of 
 a blessing and a glory that throws all imagi- 
 nation into the shade ; that of her might be 
 born a Being, to whom earth and all its kings 
 should bow ! the more than man ! the more 
 than angel! veiling for a little time his 
 splendors in the form of man, to raise Israel 
 to the sceptre of the world, to raise that 
 world into a renewed paradise, and then to 
 resume his original glory, and be Sovereign, 
 Creator, God — all in all ! 
 
 This consciousness, however dimmed, was 
 never forgotten ; the misfortunes of Judah 
 never breaking the strong link by which we 
 held to the future. The reliance on predic- 
 tions perpetually renewed, and never more 
 vividly renewed than in the midst of our 
 misfortunes; a reliance commemorated in 
 all the great ceremonies of our nation, in our 
 worship, in our festivals, in every baptism, in 
 every marriage, must have filled a large 
 space in the susceptible mind of woman. 
 What but the mind forms the countenance 1 
 and what must have been the moulding of 
 that most magnificent and elevating of all 
 hopes, for centuries, on the most plastic and 
 expressive features in the world ! 
 
 Sacredly reserved from intermixture with 
 the blood of the stranger, the hope was spread 
 throughout Israel. The line of David was pure, 
 but its connection had shot widely through the 
 land. It was like the Indian tree taking root 
 through a thousand trees. Every Jewish wo- 
 man might hope to be the living altar on which 
 the Light to lighten the Gentiles was to de- 
 scend ! The humblest might be the blessed 
 among women ! the mother of the Messiah ! 
 
 But all is gone. Ages of wandering, woe, 
 poverty, contumely, and mixture of blood, 
 have done their work of evil. The loveliness 
 may partially remain, but the glory of Judah’s 
 daughters is no more. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 We continued ascending through the de- 
 files of the mountain range of Carmel. The 
 gorges of the hills gave us alternate glimpses 
 of Lower Galilee, and of the great sea, which 
 lay bounding the western horizon with azure. 
 The morning breezes from the land, now in 
 the full vegetation of the rapid spring of 
 Palestine, scarcely ceased to fill the heavens 
 with fragrance, when the sea-wind sprang up, 
 and, with the coolness and purity of a gush of 
 fountain waters, renewed the spirit of life in 
 the air, and made the whole caravan forget its 
 fatigue. Our bold hunters spurred down the 
 valleys and up the hills with the wildness of 
 superfluous vigor ; tossed their lances into the 
 air; sang their mountain songs ; and shouted 
 the cries of the chase and the battle. 
 
 On one eventful day a w'olf was started 
 from its covert, and every rein was let loose 
 in a moment ; nothing could stop the fear- 
 
 lessness of the riders, or exhaust the fire of 
 the steeds. The caravan, coming on slowly 
 with the women and children, and lengthen- 
 ing out among the passes, was forgotten. 
 
 1 scorned to be left behind, and followed my 
 daring companions at full speed. The wolf 
 led us a long chase : and on the summit of a 
 rock still blazing in the sun-light, like a bea- 
 con, while the plain was growing dim, he 
 fought his last fight, and, transfixed with a 
 hundred lances, died the death of a hero. 
 
 But the spot which we had reached sup- 
 plied statelier contemplations : we were on 
 the summit of mount Tabor: the eye wan- 
 dered over the whole glory of the Land of 
 Promise. To the south extended the moun- 
 tains of Samaria, their peaked summits glow- 
 ing in the sun with the colored brilliancy of 
 a chain of gems. To the east lay the lake 
 of Tiberias, a long line of purple. North- 
 ward, like a thousand rainbows, ascended, lit 
 by the western flame, the mountains of Gil- 
 boa, those memorable hills on which the 
 spear of Saul was broken, and the first curse 
 of our obstinacy was branded upon us in the 
 blood of our first king. Closing the superb 
 circle, ascending step by step the Antilibanus, 
 soaring into the very heavens. 
 
 Of all the sights that nature offers to the 
 eye and mind of man, mountains have always 
 stirred my strongest feelings. I have seen 
 the ocean when it was turned up from the 
 bottom by tempest, and noon was like night 
 with the conflict of the billows and the storm 
 that tore and scattered them in mist and 
 foam across the sky. I have seen the desert 
 rise around me, and calmly, in the midst of 
 thousands uttering cries of horror, and paral- 
 ysed by fear, have contemplated the sandy 
 pillars coming like the advance of some gi- 
 gantic city of conflagration flying across the 
 wilderness, every column glowing with in- 
 tense fire, and every blast with death ; the 
 sky vaulted with gloom, the earth a furnace. 
 But with me, the mountain — in tempest or 
 in calm, the throne of the thunder, or with 
 the evening sun painting its dells and de- 
 clivities in colors dipt in heaven — has been 
 the source of the most absorbing sensations: 
 — there stands magnitude giving the instant 
 impression of a power above man — grandeur 
 that defies decay — antiquity that tells of 
 ages unnumbered — beauty that the touch of 
 time makes only more beautiful — use ex- 
 haustless for the service of man — strength 
 imperishable as the globe, — the monument 
 of eternity, — the truest earthly emblem of 
 that everliving, unchangeable, irresistible 
 Majesty, by whom and for whom all things 
 were made ! 
 
 I was gazing on the Antilibanus, and peo- 
 pling its distant slopes with figures of other 
 I worlds ascending and descending, as in the 
 I patriarch’s dream, when I was roused by the 
 I trampling steed of one of my kinsmen re- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 turning with the wolf’s head, the trophy of 
 his superior prowess, at his saddle bow. “ So,” 
 said he, “ you disdained to share the last bat- 
 tle of that dog of the Galilees ! But we shall 
 show you something better worth the chase, 
 when we reach home. The first snow that 
 drives the lions down from Lebanon, or the 
 first hot wind that sends the panthers flying 
 before it from Assyria, will have all our vil- 
 lages up in arms ; every man that can draw a 
 bow, or throw a lance, will be on the moun- 
 tains ; and then we shall give you the honors 
 of a hunter in exchange for your philosophy.” 
 He uttered this with a jovial laugh, and a 
 hand grasping mine with the gripe of a giant. 
 “Yet,” said lie, and a shade passed over his 
 brow, “ I wish we had something better to 
 do ; you must not look down upon Jubal, and 
 the tribe of your brother Eleazar, as mere 
 rovers after wolves and panthers.” 
 
 I willingly declared my respect for the in- 
 trepidity and dexterity which the mountain 
 life ensured. I applauded its health, activity 
 and cheerfulness. “ Yet,” interrupted Jubal 
 sternly, “ what can be done while those Ro- 
 mans are every where around us!” He 
 stopped short, reined up his horse with a sudden 
 force, that made the animal spring from the 
 ground, flung his lance high in the air, caught 
 it in the fall, and having thus relieved his in- 
 dignation, returned to discuss with me the 
 chances of Roman war. “ Look at those,” 
 said he, pointing to the horsemen who were 
 now bounding across the declivities to rejoin 
 the caravan ; their horses are flame, their bo- 
 dies are iron, and their souls would be both, 
 if they had a leader.” “ Eleazar is brave,” 
 1 replied. “ Brave as his own lance,” was the 
 answer ; “ no warmer heart, wiser head, or 
 firmer arm, moves at this hour within the 
 borders of the land. But he despairs.” “ He 
 knows,” said I, “ the Roman power and the 
 Jewish weakness.” 
 
 “ Both, both, too well,” was the reply. — 
 “ But he forgets the power that is in the cause 
 of a people fighting for their law, for their 
 rights, in the midst of glorious remembrances, 
 nay in the hope of a help greater than that 
 of the sword. Look at the tract beyond those 
 linden trees.” 
 
 He pointed to a broken, extent of ground, 
 darkly distinguishable from the rest of the 
 plain. “ On that ground, to this moment 
 wearing the look of a grave, was drawn up 
 the host of Sisera ; under that ground is their 
 grave. By this stone,” and he struck his lance 
 on a rough pillow defaced by time, “ stood 
 Peborah the prophetess, prophecy ing against 
 the thousands and tens of thousands of the 
 heathen below. On this hill was drawn up 
 the army of Barak, as a drop in the ocean, 
 compared with the infidel multitudes. They 
 were the ancestors of men whom you now 
 
 see trooping before you ; the men of Naphtali, 
 with their brothers of Zebulon. On this spot 
 they gathered their might like the storm of 
 Heaven. From this spot they poured down 
 like its whirlwinds and lightnings upon the 
 taunted enemy. God was their leader. They 
 rushed upon the nine hundred scythed chariots, 
 upon the mtiiled cavalry, upon the countless 
 infantry. Of all, but one escaped from the 
 plain of Jezreel, and that one only to perish 
 in his flight by the degradation of a woman’s 
 hand !” He wheeled round his foaming horse, 
 and appealed to me, “ Are the Roman le- 
 gions more numerous than that host of the 
 dead! Is Israel now less valiant, less wronged, 
 or less indignant! Shall no prophet arise 
 among us again ! Shall it not be sung again, 
 as it was then sung to the harps of israel — 
 ‘ Zabulon and Naphtali were a people that 
 jeoparded their lives unto the death in the 
 high places of the land !” 
 
 I looked with involuntary wonder at the 
 change wrought in him by those proud recol- 
 lections. The rude and jovial hunter was no 
 more; the Jewish warrior stood before me 
 filled with the double impulse of generous 
 scorn of the oppression, and of high depend- 
 ence on the fates of his nation. His coun- 
 tenance was ennobled, his form seemed to 
 dilate, his voice grew sonorous as a trumpet. 
 A sudden burst of the declining sun broke 
 upon his figure, and threw a sheet of splen- 
 dor across the scarlet turban, the glittering 
 tunic, the spear point lifted in the strenuous 
 hand, the richly caparisoned front, and san- 
 guine nostril of his impatient charger. A 
 Gentile would have worshipped him as the 
 tutelar genius of war. I saw in him but tne 
 man that our history and our law were or- 
 dained, beyond all others, to have made ; — 
 the native strength of character raised into 
 heroism by the conviction of a guiding and 
 protecting Providence. 
 
 The conversation was not forgotten on ei- 
 ther side ; and it bore fruit, fearful fruit, in 
 time. 
 
 We had reached on our return a command- 
 ing point, from which we looked into the 
 depths already filling with twilight, and 
 through whose blue vapors the caravan toiled 
 slowly along, like a wearied fleet in some 
 billowy sea. Suddenly a tumult was per- 
 ceived below : cries of confusion and terror 
 rose; and the whole caravan was seen scat- 
 tering in all directions though the passes. — 
 For the first moment we thought that it had 
 been attacked by the mountain robbers. We 
 grasped our lances, and galloped down the 
 side of the hill to charge them ; when we 
 \ycre stopped at once by a woman’s scream 
 from the ridge which we had just left. It 
 struck through my heart — the voice was Miri- 
 am’s. To my unspeakable horror, I saw her 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 17 
 
 dromedary, mad with fear and pouring blood, 
 rush along the edge of the precipice. I saw 
 the figure clinging to his neck. The light 
 forsook my eyes ; and but for the grasp of 
 Jubal, I must have fallen to the ground. — 
 His voice aroused me. When I looked round 
 again, the shouts had died, the troop had dis- 
 appeared — it seemdd all. a dream ! 
 
 But, again, the shouts came doubling upon 
 the wind ; and far as the eye could pierce 
 through the dusk, I saw the white robe of 
 Miriam flying along like a vapor. I threw 
 the reins on my horse’s neck — I roused him 
 with my voice — I rushed with the fearless- 
 ness of despair through the hills — I overtook 
 the troop — I outstripped them : — still the 
 vision flew before me. At length it sank. — 
 The dromedary had plunged down the preci- 
 pece ; a depth of hideous darkness. A tor- 
 rent roared below. I struck in the spur to 
 follow. My horse wheeled round on the 
 edge : while I strove to force him to the leap, 
 my kinsmen came up, with Eleazer at their 
 head. Bold as they were, they all recoiled 
 from the frightful depth. Even in that wild 
 moment, I had time to feel that this was but 
 the beginning of rny inflictions, and that I 
 was to wreck the ruin of all that belonged to 
 me. In consciousness unspeakable, I sprang 
 from my startled steed ; and before a hand 
 could check me, I plunged in. A cry of 
 astonishment and horror rang in my ears as 
 I fell. The roar of waters was then around 
 me. I struggled with the torrent; gasped; 
 and heard no more. 
 
 This desperate effort saved the life of i 
 Miriam. We were found apparently dead, 
 clasped in each other’s arms at some distance 
 down the stream. The plunge had broke 
 the band by which she was fixed on the sad- 
 dle. She floated and we were thrown to- 
 gether by the eddy. After long effort, we 
 were restored. But the lamentations of my 
 matchless wife were restrained beside my 
 couch, only to burst forth when she was alone. 
 We had lost our infant. 
 
 The chase of the wolves in the mountain 
 had driven them across the march of the 
 caravan. One of those savages sprang upon 
 the flank of the dromedary. The animal, in 
 the agony of its wounds, burst away : its 
 proverbial fleetness baffled pursuit; and it' 
 was almost fortunate that it at length bound- 
 ed over the precipice ; as, in the mountain 
 country, its precious burden must have per- 
 ished by the lion or by famine. Miriam 
 held her babe with the strong grasp of a 
 mother; but in the torrent that grasp was 
 dissolved. All our search was in vain. My 
 wife wept : — but I had in her rescued my 
 chief treasure of earth ; and was consoled by 
 the same deep feeling which pronounced that] 
 I might have been punished by the loss of all. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Let me hasten through some years. The 
 sunshine of life was gone; in all my desire 
 to conform to the habits of my new career, I 
 found myself incapable of contentment. But 
 the times, that had long resembled the stag- 
 nation of a lake, were beginning to be shaken. 
 Rome herself, the prey of conspiracy, gradual- 
 ly held her foreign sceptre with a feebler 
 hand. Gaul and Germany were covered with 
 gathering clouds; and their flashes were an- 
 swered from the Asiatic hills. With the re- 
 laxation of the paramount authority, the chain 
 of subordinate oppression, as always happens, 
 was made tighter. As the master was en- 
 feebled, the menials were less in awe; and 
 Judea rapidly felt what must be the evils of 
 a military government without the strictness 
 of military discipline. 
 
 I protest against being charged with ambi- 
 tion. But I had a painful sense of the guilt 
 of suffering even such powers as I might 
 possess, to waste away, without use to some 
 part of mankind. I was weary of the utter 
 unproductiveness of the animal enjoyments, 
 in which I saw the multitude round me con- 
 tent to linger into old age. I longed for an 
 opportunity of contributing my mite to the 
 solid possessions by which posterity is wiser, 
 happier, or purer, than the generation before 
 them: — some trivial tribute to that mighty 
 stream of time which ought to go on, con- 
 tinually bringing richer fertility as it flowed. 
 I was not grieved at the change which I 
 saw overshadowing the gorgeous empire of 
 Rome. 
 
 My unspeakable crime may have thrown a 
 deeper tinge on those contemplations. But 
 by singular fatality, and perhaps for the in- 
 crease of my punishment, I was left for long 
 periods in each year to the common impres- 
 sions of life. The wisdom, which even my 
 great misfortune might have forced upon me, 
 was withheld ; and the being who, in the 
 conviction of his mysterious destiny, must 
 have looked upon earth and its pursuits, as 
 man looks upon the labors and the life of flies 
 — as the atoms in the sunshine — as measure- 
 less emptiness and trifling, — was given over 
 to be disturbed by the impulse of generations 
 on whose dust he was to sit, and see other 
 generations rise round him, themselves to 
 sink alike into dust, while he still sat an 
 image of endurance and warning imperish- 
 able. 
 
 But there was a season in each year when 
 those recollections returned with overwhelm- 
 ing vividness. If all other knowledge of the 
 approach of the passover could have escaped 
 me, there were signs, fearful signs, that 
 warned me of that hour of my woe. A pe- 
 
Salat hi el. 
 
 ] 8 
 
 riodic dread of the sight of man, a sudden, | 
 gloomy sense of my utter separation from j 
 the interests of the transitory beings round 
 me, wild dreams, days of immovable abstrac- 
 tion, yet filled with the breathing picture of 
 all that l had done on the day of my guilt in 
 Jerusalem, rose before me with such intense 
 reality, that 1 lived through the scene. The 
 successive progress of my crime — the swift 
 and stinging consciousness of condemnation 
 — the flash of fearful knowledge, that showed 
 me futurity; — all — all were felt with the 
 keenness of a being from whom his fleshly 
 nature had been stripped away, and the soul 
 bared to every visitation of pain. I stood 
 like a disembodied spirit in suffering. 
 
 Yet l could not be restrained from follow- 
 ing my tribe on their annual progress to the 
 Holy City. To see from afar the towers of 
 the temple, was with me like a craving for 
 life: — but I never dared to set my foot with- 
 in its gates. On some pretence or other, 
 and sometimes through real powerlessness, 
 arising from the conflict of my heart, I lin- 
 gered behind, yet within the distance from 
 which the city could be seen. There among 
 the precipices 1 wandered through the day, 
 listening to the various uproar of the 
 mighty multitude, or wistfully catching some 
 echo of the hymns in the temple — sounds that 
 6tole from my eye many a tear — till darkness 
 fell, the city slumbered, and the blast of the 
 Roman trumpets, as they divided the night, 
 reminded me of the fallen glories of my 
 country. 
 
 In one of those wanderings, I had followed 
 the course of the Kedron, which, from a brook 
 under the walls of Jerusalem, swells to a 
 river on its descent to the Dead Sea. The 
 blood of the sacrifices from the conduits of 
 the altars curdled on its surface, and stained 
 the sands purple. It looked like a wounded 
 vein from the mighty heart above. I still 
 strayed on, wrapt in sad forebodings of the 
 hour when its stains might be of more than 
 sacrifice; until I found myself on the edge 
 of the lake. Who has ever seen that black 
 expanse without a shudder 1 There were 
 the ingulphed cities. Around it, life was 
 extinct — no animal bounded — no bird hover- 
 ed. The distant rushing of the river Jordan, 
 as it (breed its current through the heavy 
 waters, or the sigh of the wind through the 
 reeds, alone broke the silence of this mighty 
 grave. Of the melancholy objects of nature, 
 none is more depressing than a large expanse 
 of stagnant waters. No gloom of forest, no 
 wildness of mountain, is so overpowering, as 
 this dreary, unrelieved flatness: — the marshy 
 border — the sickly vegetation of the shore — 
 the leaden color which even the sky above it 
 wears, tinged by its sepulchral atmosphere. 
 But the waters before me were not left to 
 the dreams of a saddened fancy : — they were 
 
 a sepulchre. Myriads of human beings lay 
 beneath them, entombed in sulphureous beds. 
 The wrath of Heaven has been there. 
 
 The day of destruction seemed to pass 
 again before my eyes, as I lay gazing on 
 those sullen depths. I saw them once more 
 a plain covered with richness; cities glitter- 
 ing in the morning sun; multitudes pouring 
 out from their gates to sports and festivals : 
 the land exulting with life and luxuriance. 
 Then a cloud gathered above. I heard the 
 voice of the thunder; — it was answered by 
 the earthquake. Fire burst from the skies; 
 — it was answered by a thousand founts of fire 
 spouting from the plain. The distant hills 
 blazed, and threw volcanic showers over the 
 cities. Round them was a tide of bhrning bitu- 
 men. The earthquake heaved again. All sank 
 into the gulf! I heard the roar of the distant 
 waters. They rushed into the bed of fire ; 
 the doom was done; the cities of the plain 
 were gone down to the blackness of darkness 
 for ever. 
 
 I was idly watching the bursts of suffo- 
 cating vapor that shoot up at intervals from 
 the rising masses of bitumen, when I was 
 startled by a wild laugh and wilder figure 
 beside me. I sprang on my feet, and pre- 
 pared for defence with my poinard : the 
 figure waved his hand in sign to sheathe the 
 unnecessary weapon; and said, in a tone 
 strange and melancholy, “you are in my 
 power; but I do not come to injure you. I 
 have been contemplating your countenance 
 for some time: — I have seen your features 
 deeply disturbed — your wringing hands — 
 your convulsed form: — are you even as I 
 am 1” 
 
 The voice was singularly mild : yet I 
 never heard a sound that so keenly pierced 
 my brain. The speaker was of the tallest 
 stature of man — every sinew and muscle ex- 
 hibiting gigantic strength; yet, with the 
 symmetry of a Greek statue. But his coun- 
 tenance was the true wonder — it was of the 
 finest mould of manly beauty: the contour 
 was Greek, but the hue was Syrian: — yet 
 the dark tinge of country gave way at times 
 to a more than corpse-like paleness. I had 
 full leisure for the view; for he stood gazing 
 on me without a word ; and I remained fixed 
 on my defence. At length, he said, “ put 
 up that poinard ! You could no more hurt 
 me than you could resist me : — look here !” 
 He wrenched a huge mass of rock from the 
 ground, and whirled it far into the lake, as 
 if it had been a pebble. I o-azed with speech- 
 less astonishment. “Yes;” pursued the fig- 
 ure, — “ they throw me into their prisons — 
 they lash me — they stretch me on the rack 
 — they burn my flesh.” As he spoke, he 
 flung aside his robe, and showed his broad 
 breast covered with scars. “ Short-sighted 
 fools! little they know him who suffers, or 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 19 
 
 him who commands. If it were not my will 
 to endure, I could crush my tormentors as I 
 crush an insect. They chain me too,” said 
 he with a laugh of scorn. He drew out the 
 arm which had been hitherto wrapped in his 
 robe. It was loaded with links of iron of 
 prodigious thickness. He grasped one of 
 them in his hand, twisted it off with scarcely 
 
 an effort, and flung it up a sightless distance 
 in the air. “ Such are bars and bolts to me ! 
 When my time is come to suffer, I submit to 
 be tortured ! When my time is passed, I 
 tear away their fetters, burst their dungeons, 
 and walk forth trampling their armed men.” 
 
 I sheathed the dagger. “ Does this 
 strength amaze you]” said the being: “look 
 to yonder dust and he pointed to a cloud 
 of sand that came flying along the shore. 
 “I could outstrip that whirlwind; — I could 
 plunge unhurt into the depths of that sea ; — 
 I could ascend that mountain swifter than 
 the eagle ; — I could ride that thunder 
 cloud.” 
 
 As he threw himself back, gazing upon 
 the sky — with his grand form buoyant with 
 vigor, and his arm exalted — he looked like 
 one to whom height or depth could offer no 
 obstacle. His mantle flew out along the 
 blast, like the unfurling of a mighty wing. 
 There was something in his look and voice 
 that gave irresistible conviction to his wild 
 words. Conscious mastery was in all about 
 him. I should not have felt surprised to see 
 him spring up into the elements. 
 
 My mind grew inflamed with his presence. 
 My blood burned with sensations, for which 
 language has no name — a thirst of power — 
 a scorn of earth — a proud and fiery longing 
 for the command of the hidden mysteries of 
 nature. I felt, as the great ancestor of man- 
 kind might have felt, when the voice of the 
 tempter told him, “ Ye shall he even as gods.” 
 
 “Give me your powder,” I exclaimed; 
 “the world to me is worthless: with man 
 all my ties are broken : let me live in the 
 desert, and be even as you are ; give me 
 your power.” “My power!” he repeated, 
 with a ghastly laugh that rang to the skies, 
 and was echoed round the wilderness by 
 what seemed voices innumerable, until it 
 died away in a distant groan. “ Look on 
 this forehead !” — he threw back the corner 
 of his mantle. A furrow was drawn round 
 his brow, covered with gore, and gaping 
 like a fresh wound. “ Here,” howled he, 
 “sat the diadem. — I was Epiphanes.” 
 
 “You, Antiochus! the tyrant — the perse- 
 cutor — the spoiler — the accursed of Israel !” 
 I bounded backwards in sudden horror. 
 
 I saw before me one of those spirits of the 
 evil dead, who are allowed from time to time 
 to re-appear on earth in the body, whether of 
 the dead or the living. For some cause that 
 none could unfold, Judea had been, within the 
 
 last few years, haunted by them more than 
 for centuries. Strange rites, dangerously 
 borrowed from the idolaters, were resorted to 
 for our relief from this new terror: the pull- 
 ing of the mandrake at the eclipse of the 
 moon — incantations — midnight offerings— the 
 root of Baaras, that was said to flash flame, 
 and kill the animal that drew it from the 
 ground. Our Sadducees and skeptics, wise 
 in their own conceit, declared that posssesion 
 was but a human disease, a wilder insanity. 
 But, with the rage and misery of madness, 
 there were tremendous distinctions that raised 
 it beyond all the ravages of the hurt mind, or 
 the afflicted frame: — the look, the language, 
 the horror of the possessed, were above man. 
 They defied human restraint; they lived in 
 wildernesses where the very insects died : the 
 fiery sun of the East, the inclemency of the 
 fiercest winter, had no power to break down 
 their strength. But they had stronger signs ; 
 — they spoke of things to which the wisdom 
 of the wisest is folly — they told of the re- 
 motest future with the force of prophecy — 
 they gave glimpses of a knowledge brought 
 from realms of being inaccessible to living 
 man — last and loftiest sign, they did homage 
 to his coming, whom a cloud of darkness, 
 the guilty and impenetrable darkness of the 
 heart, had veiled from my unhappy nation. — 
 But their worship was terror — they believed 
 and trembled. 
 
 “Power — ” said the possessed, and his large 
 and unmoving eyes seemed lighting up with 
 fire from within. “ Power you shall have, and 
 hate it; wealth you shall have, and hate it; life 
 you shall have, and hate it: yet you shall know 
 the depths of the condition of man. You shall 
 be the wirm among a nation of worms — you 
 shall be steeped in poverty to the lips — you 
 shall undergo the bitterness of death until — ” 
 His brow suddenly writhed, he gnashed his 
 teeth, and convulsively sprang from the 
 ground, as if an arrow had shot through him. 
 
 The current of his thoughts was changed. 
 Things above man w'ere not to be uttered to 
 the ear unopened by the grave. “ Come,” 
 said he, “son of misfortune, emblem of the 
 nation, that living shall die, and dying shall 
 live; that trampled by all, shall trample upon 
 all; that bleeding from a thousand wmunds, 
 shall be unhurt; that beggared, shall wield 
 the wealth of nations; that without a name, 
 shall sway the council of kings; that without 
 a city, shall inhabit in all kingdoms; that 
 scattered like the dust, shall be bound together 
 like the rock : that perishing by ffle sword, by 
 the chain, by famine, by fire, shall be imper- 
 ishable, unnumbered, glorious as the stars of 
 heaven.” 
 
 Overwhelmed with sensations, rushing in 
 a flood through my heart, I had cast myself 
 upon the ground : the flashing of the fiery 
 i eye before me consumed my blood ; and 
 
20 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 fainting, I lay with my face upon the sand. 
 But his words were deeply heard ; with 
 every sound of his searching voice they 
 struck into my soul. He grasped me; and J 
 was lifted up like an infant in his grasp. 
 “ Come,” said he, “ and see what is reserved 
 for you and for your people.” 
 
 He darted forward with a. speed that took 
 away my breath — he ran — he bounded — he 
 flew. “Now, behold !” he uttered in an ac- 
 cent as composed as if he had not moved a 
 limb. I looked, and found myself on one of 
 the hills close to the great southern gate of 
 Jerusalem. Years had passed since I ven- 
 tured so nigh. But I now gazed on the city 
 of pomp and beauty, with an involuntary 
 wonder that I could have ever deserted a 
 scene so lovely and so loved. 
 
 It was the twilight of a summer evening. 
 Tower and wall lay bathed in a sea of purple ; ' 
 the Temple rose from its centre like an isl- 
 and of light : the host of heaven came riding 
 up the blue fields above; the sounds of day 
 died in harmony. All was the sweetness, \ 
 calmness, and splendor of a vision painted in 
 the clouds. 
 
 “ There,” said the possessed, “ I was mas- 
 ter, conqueror, avenger : — yet I was but the 
 instrument to punish your furious dissensions 
 — your guilty abandonment of the law of 
 your leader — your more than Gentile apos- 
 tacy from the worship of Him, who is to be 
 worshipped with more than the blood of bulls 
 and goats. A power hidden from my idola- 
 trous eyes went before me, and broke down 
 the courage of your people. I marched 
 through your gates on the neck of the god- 
 less warrior; I plundered the wealth of your 
 rich men, made worldly by their wealth ; I 
 slew your priesthood, already the betrayers 
 of their altar; I overthrew your places of 
 worship, already defiled; f covered the ruins 
 with the blood of swine; I raised idols in the 
 sanctuary ; I bore away the golden vessels 
 of the temple, and gave them to the insult 
 of the Syrian ; I slew your males, I' made 
 captives of your women : I abolished your 
 sacrifices, and pronounced in my hour of 
 blasphemy, that within the walls of Jeru- 
 salem the flame should never again be kin- 
 dled to the Supreme. The deed was mine, 
 but the cause was the iniquity of your 
 people.” 
 
 The history of devastation roused in me 
 those feelings native to the .lew, by which I 
 had been taught to look with abhorrence on 
 the devastator. “ Let me be gone,” I ex- 
 claimed, struggling from his grasp. “ Strange 
 and terrible being, let me hear no more this 
 outrage to God and man. I am guilty, too 
 guilty, in having listened to you for a mo- 
 ment.” He laid his hand upon my brow, 
 and I felt my strength dissolve at the touch. - 
 
 “Go,” said he, “ but be first a witness of 
 the future. A fiercer destroyer than Epi- 
 phanes shall come, to punish a darker crime 
 than ever stained your forefathers. A de- 
 struction shall come, to which the past was 
 the sport of children. Tower and wall, cita- 
 del and temple, shall be dust. The sword 
 shall do its work — the chain shall do its 
 work — the flame shall do its work. Bad 
 spirits shall rejoice; good spirits shall weep; 
 Israel shall be clothed in sackcloth and ashes 
 for a time impenetrable by a created eye. 
 The world shall exult, trample, scorn, and 
 j slay. Blindness, madness, misery, shall be 
 the portion of the people. Now, behold !” 
 
 He stood, with his arms stretched out to- 
 wards the temple. All before me was tran- 
 quility itself; night had suddenly fallen deep- 
 er than usual ; the stars had been wrapped 
 in clouds that yet gathered without a wind ; 
 a faint tinge of light from the summit of 
 Mount Moriah, the gleam of the never ex- 
 tinguished altar of the Daily Sacrifice, alone 
 marked the central court of the temple. 1 
 turned from the almost death-like stillness of 
 the scene, with a look of involuntary disbe- 
 lief to the face of my fearful guide : even in 
 the deep darkness every feature of it was 
 strangely visible. 
 
 A low murmur from the city caught my 
 ear ; it rapidly grew loud, various, wild : it 
 was soon intermixed with the clash of arms. 
 Trumpets now rang: I recognized the 
 
 charging shout of the Romans ; 1 heard the 
 tumultuous and mingled roar of my country- 
 men in return. The darkness was converted 
 into light; torches blazed along the battle- 
 ments and turrets: the Tower of Antonia, 
 the Roman citadel, with its massy bulwarks 
 and immense altitude, rose from a tossing ex- 
 panse of flame below like a collossal funeral- 
 pile ; I could see on its summit the agitation 
 and alarm, the 'rapid - signals, the hasty 
 snatching up of spear and shield of the gar- 
 rison, which that night’s vengeance was to 
 offer up victims on the pile. The roar of 
 battle rose, it deepened into cries of agony, 
 it swelled again into furious exultation 
 
 I thought of my countrymen butchered by 
 some new caprice of power; of my kinsmen, 
 perhaps at that instant involved in the mas- 
 sacre ; of the city, every stone and beam of 
 which was dear to my embittered heart, 
 given up to the vengeance of the idolater. 
 The prediction of its ruin was in my ears; 
 and I longed to perish with my tribe. 1 
 panted with every shout that burst from the 
 battle ; every new sheet of flame that rolled 
 upwards from the burning houses fevered me ; 
 I longed to rush with the speed of the whirl- 
 wind. But the terrible hand was upon my fore- 
 head, and I was feeble as a broken reed. “ Be- 
 hold,” said the possessed, “ those are but the 
 
Salat hid. 
 
 21 
 
 beginnings of evil.” I felt a sudden return of 
 my strength ; I looked up — he was gone ! 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I plunged into the valley, and found it 
 filled with fugitives incapable from terror of 
 giving me any account of the uproar. Wo- 
 men and children, hastily thrown on the 
 mules and camels, continued to pour through 
 the country. The road wound through the 
 intervals of the hills, and though sometimes 
 approaching near enough to the walls to be 
 illuminated by the blaze of the torches and 
 beacons, yet from its general darkness and 
 intricacy, left me to make my way by the 
 sounds of the conflict. But I was quickly 
 within reach of ample evidence of what was 
 doing in that night of havoc. The bend of 
 the road, from which the first view of the 
 grand portico was seen, had been the rally- 
 ing point to the multitude driven out by the 
 unexpected charge of the garrison. The 
 tide of the flight had thence ebbed and flow- 
 ed, and I found the spot covered with the 
 dead and dying. In my haste I stumbled, 
 and fell over one of the wounded ; he groan- 
 ed, and prayed me for a cup of water to cool 
 the thirst that parched him. I knew the 
 voice of Jairus, one of the boldest of our 
 mountaineers, and bore him to the hill-side, 
 that he might not be trampled by the crowd. 
 He faintly thanked me, and said, “ If you be 
 a man of Israel, fly to Eleazer. Take this 
 spear : — another moment may be too late.” I 
 seized the spear, and sprang forward. 
 
 The multitude had repelled the Romans, 
 and forced them up the broad central street 
 of the city. But a reinforcement from the 
 Tower of Antonia joined the troops, and 
 were driving back the victors with ruinous 
 disorder. I heard the war-cries of the tribes 
 as they called to the rescue and the charge. 
 “Onward, Judah;” “Ho, for Zebulon 
 “ Glory to Naphtali.” I thought of the times 
 of Jewish triumph, and saw before me the 
 warriors of the Maccabees. 
 
 Nerved with new sensations, the strong 
 instincts which make the war-horse paw the 
 ground at the trumpet, and make men rush 
 headlong upon death ; heightened by the 
 stinging recollections of our days of freedom, 
 I forced my path through the multitude that 
 tossed and whirled like the eddies of the 
 ocean. I found my kinsmen in front, bat- 
 tling desperately against the long spears of a 
 Roman column, that, solid as iron, and favor- 
 ed by the higher ground, was pressing down 
 all before it. The resistance was heroic, but 
 unavailing ; and when I burst forward, I 
 found at my side nothing but faces black 
 
 with despair, or covered with wounds. In 
 front was a wall of shields and helmets, glar- 
 ing in the light of the conflagration that was 
 now rapidly spreading on all sides. The air 
 was scorching, the smoke rolling against us 
 in huge volumes; blindness, burning, and 
 loss of blood, were consuming the multitude. 
 But what is in the strength of the soldier, or 
 the bravery of discipline, to daunt the despe- 
 rate energy and regardless valor of men 
 fighting tor their country — and above all 
 men, of the Israelite, fighting in the sight of 
 the profaned Temple 1 The native frame, 
 exercised by the habits of our temperate and 
 agricultural life, was one of surpassing mus- 
 cular strength ; and man for man thrown 
 naked into the field, we could have torn the 
 Roman garrison into fragments for the fowls 
 of the air. But their arms, and the help 
 which they received from the nature of the 
 ground, were too strong for the. assault of 
 men fighting with no shield but their cloaks, 
 and no arms but a pilgrim’s staff or some 
 weapon caught up from a dead enemy. 
 
 Yet to me there came a wild impression, 
 that this night was to make or unmake me; 
 an undefined feeling, that in the shedding 
 of my blood in the sight of the Temple, there 
 might be some palliative, some washing 
 away of my crime. I sprang forward be- 
 tween the combatants, and defied the boldest 
 of the legionaries ; the battle paused for an 
 instant, and my name was shouted in exulta- 
 tion by the voices of my tribe. A shower of 
 arrows from the battlements was poured 
 upon me. 1 felt myself wounded, but the 
 feeling only roused me to bolder daring. 
 Tearing off my gory mantle, I lifted it on 
 the point of my javelin, and with the poinard 
 in my right hand, aloud devoted the Romans 
 to ruin in the name of the Temple. 
 
 The enemy, in their native superstition 
 shrank from a being who looked the mes- 
 senger of angry Heaven. The naked figure, 
 the blood streaming from my wounds, the 
 wild and mystic sound of my words, reminded 
 them of the diviners that had often shook 
 their souls in their own land. I burst into 
 the circle of spears, waving my standard, 
 and calling on my nation to follow. I smote 
 to the right and left. The entrance that I 
 had made in the iron bulwark was instantly 
 filled by the multitude. All discipline gave 
 way. The weight of the Roman armor was 
 ruinous to men grappled hand to hand by the 
 light and sinewy agility of the Jew. We 
 rushed on, trampling down cuirass and buck- 
 ler, till we drove the enemy like sheep before 
 us to the first gate of the Tower of Antonia. 
 Arrows, lances, stones in showers from the 
 battlements, could not stop the triumphant 
 valor of the people. We rushed on to assault 
 the gate. Sabinus, the tribune of the legion, 
 
22 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 rallied the remnant of the fugitives, and i 
 under cover of the battlements, made a last 
 attempt to change the fortunes of the night. 
 Exhausted as I was, bruised and bleeding, | 
 my feet and hands lacerated with the burn- 
 ing ruins, my tongue cleaving to my mouth , 
 with deadly thirst, 1 rushed upon him. He 
 had been cruelly known to the Jews, a ty- 
 rant, and plunderer, for the many years of 
 his command. No trophy of the battle could 
 have been so cheering to them as his head. 
 But he had the bravery of his country; and 
 it was now augmented by rage. The de- 
 spair of being able to clear himself before im- 
 perial jealousy for that night’s disasters, must 
 have made life worthless to him. He bound- 
 ed on the drawbridge at my cry. Our meet- 
 ing was brief; my poniard broke on his 
 cuirass: his falchion descended with a blow 
 that would have cloven a head-piece of steel. 
 I sprang aside, and caught it on the shaft of 
 my javelin standard, which cut it right in 
 two. I returned the blow with the frag- 
 ment. The iron pierced his throat: he 
 flung up his hands, staggered back, and 
 dropped dead. The roar of Israel rent the 
 heavens. 
 
 Scarcely more alive than the trunk at my 
 feet, I fell back among the throng. But 
 whatever may be the envy of courts, no injus- 
 tice is done in the field. The successful leader 
 is sure of his reward from the gallant spirits 
 that he had conducted to victory. I was 
 hailed with shouts of congratulation — I was 
 lifted on the shoulder of the multitude; the 
 men of Naphtali proudly claimed me for 
 their own ; and when I clasped the hand of 
 my brave friend Jubal, whom I found in the 
 foremost rank, covered with dust and blood, 
 he exclaimed, “ Remember Barak ; remem- 
 ber Mount Tabor.” 
 
 But l looked round in vain for one whom I 
 had parted with but a few days before, and 
 without whom I scarcely dared return to 
 Miriam. Her noble brother was not to be 
 seen; had he fallen 1 Jubal understood rny 
 countenance, and mournfully pointed to the 
 citadel, which rose above us, frowning down 
 on our impotent rage. “Eleazer is a pii- 
 soner'!” I interrogated. “There can be no 
 hope for him from the hypocritical clemency 
 of those barbarians of Italy,” was the answer. 
 “ It was with him that the insurrection began. 
 He had gone up to lay his offeringon the altar: 
 —some new Roman insolence commanded 
 that our people should offer a sacrifice to the 
 image of the emperor, to the polluted, blood- 
 thirsty tyrant of Rome and mankind. Elea- 
 zar shrank from this act of horror. The tri- 
 bune, even that dog of Rome, whose tongue 
 you have silenced — so rnay perish all the 
 enemies of the Holy City ! — commanded that 
 our chieftain should be scourged at the altar. 
 
 [The cords were round his arms; the spear- 
 men were at his back ; they marched him 
 through the streets, calling on all the Jews 
 to look upon the punishment that was equal- 
 ly reserved for all. Our indignation burst 
 forth in groans and prayers. I hastily 
 gathered the males of our tribe : — we snatch- 
 ed up what arms we could, and rushing to 
 his rescue, when we saw him sweeping the 
 guard before him. He had broken his bands 
 by a desperate effort. We fell upon the pur- 
 suers, and put them to the sword. Blood 
 | was now drawn, and we knew the vengeance 
 of the Romans. To break up and scatter 
 through the country, would have been only 
 to give our throats to the cavalry. Eleazar 
 determined to anticipate the attack. Mes- 
 sengers were sent round to the leaders of 
 the tribes, and the seizure of the Roman for- 
 tress was resolved on. We gathered at 
 night-fall, and drove in the out- posts. But 
 the garrison were prepared. We were beat- 
 en down by a storm of darts and javelins, 
 and must have been undone but for your ap- 
 pearing. In the first onset, Eleazer, while 
 cheering us to the charge, was struck by a 
 i stone from an engine. I saw him fall among 
 a circle of the enemy, and hastened to- his 
 rescue. But when I reached the spot, he 
 was gone, my last sight of him was at yonder 
 gate, as he was borne in, waving his hand — 
 his last farewell to Naphtali.” 
 
 Deep silence followed his broken accents; 
 he hung his head on his hand, and the tears 
 glistened through his fingers. The circle 
 of brave men round us wrapped their heads 
 in their mantles. I could not contain the 
 bitterness of my soul. Years had cemented 
 my friendship for the virtuous and generous 
 hearted brother of my beloved. He had 
 borne with my waywardness: — he had done 
 all that man could do to soften my heart, to 
 enlighten my darkness, to awake me to a 
 wisdom surpassing rubies. I lifted up my 
 voice and wept. 
 
 The brazen blast of a trumpet from the 
 battlements suddenly raised all our eyes. 
 Troops moved slowly along the walls of the 
 fortress ; they ascended the central tower. 
 Their ranks opened, and in the midst was 
 seen by the torch-light a man of Israel. 
 They had brought him to that place of ex- 
 posure, in the double cruelty of increasing 
 liis torture and ours by death in the presence 
 of the people. An universal groan burst 
 from below. He felt it, and meekly pointed 
 with his hand to Heaven, where no tortures 
 (shall disturb the peace of the departed. The 
 startling sound of the trumpet stung the ear 
 again; it was the signal for execution. I 
 saw the archer advance to take aim at him. 
 He drew the shaft. Almost unconsciously 
 I I seized a sling from the hands of one of our 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 23 
 
 tribe. I whirled it. The archer dropped 
 dead, with the arrow still on his bow. 
 
 To those who had not seen the cause, 
 the effect was almost a miracle. The air 
 pealed with acclamation ; a thousand slings 
 instantly swept the escort from the battle- 
 ments ; the walls were left naked ; — ladders 
 were raised, — ropes were slung, — axes were 
 brandished ; the activity of our hunters and 
 mountaineers availed itself of every crevice 
 and projection of the walls ; they climbed on 
 each other’s shoulders ; they leaped from 
 point to point, where the antelope could have 
 scarcely found footing ; they ran over narrow 
 and fenced walls and curtains, where, in 
 open daylight, and with his senses awake to 
 danger, no man could have moved. Torches 
 without number showered upon all that was 
 combustible. At length the central maga- 
 zine took fire. 
 
 We now fought no longer in darkness; 
 the flames rolled sheet on sheet above our 
 heads, throwing light over the whole horizon. 
 We were soon in no want of soldiers; the 
 tribes poured in at the sight of conflagration ; 
 and no valor could resist their enthusiasm. 
 Some cried out, they saw beings mightier 
 than man descending to fight the battle of 
 the favored nation : — some, that the day of 
 Joshua had returned, and that a light of more 
 than earthly lustre was visible in the burn- 
 ing ! But the battle was no longer doubtful. 
 The Romans, reduced in number by the 
 struggle in the streets, exhausted by the last 
 attack, and aware, from the destruction of 
 their magazines, that their most successful 
 resistance must be ended by famine, called 
 out for terms. I had but one answer — “The 
 life of Eleazar.” The drawbridge fell, and 
 he appeared ; — the next moment he was in 
 my arms ! 
 
 The garrison marched out. I restrained 
 the violence of their conquerors, irritated by 
 the memory of years of insult. Not a hair 
 of a Roman head was touched. They were 
 led down to the valley of Kedron ; were dis- 
 armed, and thence sent without delay under 
 a safeguard to their countrymen in Idumea. 
 In one night the Holy City was cleared of 
 every foot of the idolater. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 But while the people were in a state of 
 the wildest triumph, the joy of their leaders 
 was tempered by many formidable reflections. 
 The power of the enemy was still unshaken : 
 the surprise of a single garrison, though a! 
 distinguished evidence of what might be 
 done by native valor, was trivial on the scale j 
 of a war that must be conducted against the. 
 
 whole power of the mistress of the civilized 
 world. The policy of Rome was known : 
 she never gave up a conquest while it could 
 be retained by the most lavish and perse- 
 vering expenditure of her strength. Her 
 treasury would be stripped of every talent, 
 and Italy left without a soldier, before she 
 would surrender the most fruitless spot, an 
 acre of sand, or a point of rock in Judea. 
 
 I went forth, but not among the leaders, 
 nor among the people ; I turned away equal- 
 ly from the council and the triumph. A 
 deeper feeling urged me to wander round 
 those courts where my spirit so often turned 
 in my exile. The battle had reached even 
 there, and the pollution of blood was on the 
 consecrated ground. The Roman soldiers 
 had, in their advance, driven the people to 
 take refuge in the cloisters of the temple; 
 and the dead lying thickly among the col- 
 umns, showed how fierce even that brief and 
 partial struggle had been. With a torch in 
 my hand, I trod through those heaps of what 
 once was man, to have one parting look at 
 the scene where I had passed so many hap- 
 py and innocent hours. I stood before the 
 porch of my cloister, almost listening for the 
 sound of the familiar voices within. The 
 long interval of time was compressed into an 
 instant. 
 
 I awoke from the reverie, with a smile at 
 the idleness of human fancy, and struck upon 
 the door. There was no answer; but the 
 bolts, loosened by time, gave way, and 1 was 
 again the master of my mansion. It was 
 uninhabited since my flight; why, I could 
 not conceive. But, as J passed from room to 
 room, I found them all as if they had been 
 left but the hour before. The embroidery, 
 which Miriam wrought with a skill distin- 
 guished even among the daughters of the 
 temple, was still fixed in its frame before the 
 silken couch ; there lay the harp that relieved 
 her hours of graceful toil. The tissued san- 
 dals were waiting for the delicate feet. The 
 veil, the vermilion mantle that designated 
 her rank, the tabret, the armlets and neck- 
 laces of precious stones, still hung upon the 
 sofas, untouched by the spoiler. 
 
 There was but one evidence of time among 
 them — but that bore its bitter moral. It was 
 the dust, that hung heavy upon the curtains 
 of precious needlework, and dimmed the 
 glitter of the gems, and chilled the richness 
 of the Tyrian purple: — decay, that teacher 
 without a tongue, the lonely emblem of what 
 the bustle of mankind must come to at last; 
 the dull memorial of the proud, the beautiful, 
 the brave ! All was the silence of the tomb ! 
 With the torch in my hand, throwing its red 
 reflection on the walls and rich remem- 
 brances round me, I sat like the mummy of an 
 Egyptian king in the sepulchre, — in the midst 
 
24 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 of the things that I had loved, yet divorced 
 from them by an irresistible law for ever ! 
 
 I impatiently broke forth into the open air. 
 The stars were waning; a grey streak of 
 dawn was whitening the summit of the 
 Mount of Olives. As 1 passed by Herod’s 
 palace, and lifted my eyes in wonder at the 
 unusual sight of a group of Jews keeping 
 watch, where, but the day before, the Roman 
 governor lorded it, and none but the Roman 
 soldier durst stand; I saw Jubal hurrying 
 out, and making signs to me through the 
 crowd from the esplanade above. I was in- 
 stantly recognized, and all made way for my 
 ascent up those gorgeous and .almost count- 
 less steps of porphyry, that formed one of the 
 wonders of Jerusalem. 
 
 “ We have been in alarm about you,” said 
 he, hastily, “ but, come to the council; wc 
 have wasted half the night in perplexing 
 ourselves. Some are timid, and call out for 
 submission on any terms ; some are rash, 
 and would plunge us unprepared into the 
 Roman camps. There are obviously many 
 who, without regard for the hope of freedom, 
 or the holiness of our cause, look upon the 
 crisis only as a means of personal aggrandize- 
 ment. And lastly, we are not without our 
 traitors, who confound all opinions, and who 
 are making work for Roman gold and iron. 
 Your voice is entitled to weight. Speak at 
 once, and speak your mind; your tribe will 
 support it with their lives.” 
 
 The council was held in the amphitheatre 
 of the palace. The heads of families and 
 principal men of the people had crowded into 
 it, until the council, instead of the privacy 
 of a few chieftains, assumed the look of a 
 great popular assembly. Thirty thousand 
 had forced themselves into the seats; every 
 bosom responding to every accent of the ora- 
 tor, a mighty instrument vibrating through 
 all its strings to the master’s hand. Accus- 
 tomed as I was, by the festivals of our nation, 
 to the sight of great bodies of men swayed 
 by a common impulse, I stopped in astonish- 
 ment at the entrance of the collossal circle. 
 Three-fourths of it were almost, totally dark, 
 giving a shadowy intimation of human beings 
 but by the light of a few scattered torches, 
 or the rising dawn that rounded the extreme 
 height with a ring of pale and moon-like 
 rays. But in the centre of the arena a fire 
 blazed bright, and showed the leaders of the 
 deliberation seated in the splendid chairs 
 once assigned for the Roman governors and 
 legionary tribunes, Eleazar filled the tem- 
 porary throne. 
 
 The chief man of the land of Ephraim was 
 haranguing the assembly as I entered. “ Go 
 to war with Rome!” pronounced he; “you 
 might as well go to war with the ocean, for 
 her power is as wide ; you might as well 
 
 fight the storm, for her vengeance is as 
 rapid ; you might as well call up the armies 
 of Judea against the pestilence, for her sword 
 is as sweeping, as sudden, and as sure. Who 
 but madmen would go to war without allies? 
 and where are yours to be looked for? Rome 
 is the mistress of all nations. Would you 
 make a war of fortresses? Rome has in her 
 possession all your walled towns. Every 
 tower from Dan to Beersheba has a Roman 
 banner on its battlements. Would you meet 
 her in the plain ! Where are your horse- 
 men ? The Roman cavalry would be upon 
 you before you could draw your swords; and 
 would trample your boldest into the sand. 
 Would you make the campaign in the moun- 
 tains? Where are your magazines? The 
 Roman generals would disdain to waste a 
 drop of blood upon you ; they would only 
 have So block up the passes, and leave famine 
 to do the rest. Harvest is not come ; and if 
 it were, you dare not descend to the plains 
 to gather it. You are told to rely upon the 
 strength of the country — Have the fiery 
 sands of the desert, or the marshes of Ger- 
 many or the snows or Scythia, or the stormy 
 waters of Britain, defended them ? Does 
 Egypt, within your sight, give you no ex- 
 ample? A land of inexhaustible fertility,’ 
 crowded with seven millions and a half of 
 men passionately devoted to their country, 
 [Opulent, brave, and sustained by the countless 
 millions of Africa, with a country defended 
 on both flanks by the wilderness, in the rear 
 inaccessible to the Roman, exposing the 
 narrowest and most defensible front of any 
 ! nation on earth : yet Egypt, in spite of the 
 Lybian valor, and the Greek genius, is garri- 
 soned at this hour by a single Roman legion! 
 The Roman bird, grasping the thunder in its 
 talons, and touching with one wing the sun- 
 rise and the other the sunset, throws its 
 shadow over the world. Shall we call it to 
 stoop upon us? Must we spread for it the 
 new banquet of the blood of Israel?” 
 
 How different is the power of the orator 
 upon men sitting in the common, peaceful 
 circumstances of public assemblage, from its 
 tyranny over minds anxious about their own 
 fates ! All that I had ever seen of public 
 excitement was stone and ice, to the burning 
 interest that hung upon every word of the 
 speaker. The name of Onias was famous in 
 Judea, but I now saw him for the first time. 
 His had been a life of ambition, compassed 
 often by desperate means, and woe be to the 
 man who stood between him and power. 
 By the dagger, and by subserviency to the Ro- 
 man procurators, he had risen to the highest 
 rank below the throne. In the distractions 
 of a time which broke off the regular succes- 
 sion of the sons of Aaron, Onias had even 
 been high-priest; but Eleazar, heading the 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 25 
 
 popular indignation, had expelled him from 
 the temple, after one month of troubled ! 
 supremacy. I could read his history in the! 
 haughty figure, and daring, yet wily, vis- j 
 age, that stood in their bold relief before the | 
 flame. 
 
 But, to the assemblage, his declamation 
 had infinite power; they listened as to the 
 words of life and death ; they had come, not 
 to delight their ears with the periods of the! 
 orator, but to hear what they must do to es- ; 
 cape that inexorable fury, which might with-! 
 in a few days or hours be let loose upon 
 every individual head. All was alternately 
 the deepest silence, and the most tumultuous 
 agitation. At his strong appeals, they writh- 
 ed their athletic forms, they gnashed their 
 teeth, they tore their hair; some crouched to 
 the ground with their faces buried in their 
 hands, as if shutting out the coming horrors ; 
 some started upright, brandishing their 
 rude weapons, and tossing their naked 
 limbs in gestures of defiance ; some sat bend- 
 ing down, and throwing back their long locks, 
 that not a syllable might escape; others 
 knelt, with their quivering hands clasped, 
 and their pallid countenance turned up in 
 agony of prayer. 
 
 Many had been wounded, and their fore- 
 heads and limbs hastily bound up were still 
 stained with gore. Turbans and robes rent 
 and discolored with dust and burning were 
 on every side, and the whole immense multi- 
 tude bore the look of men who had just 
 struggled out of some great calamity, to find 
 themselves on the verge of one still more 
 irremediable. 
 
 The orator found that his impression was 
 made ; and he hastened to the close. For 
 this he reserved the sting. “ If it be the de- 
 sire of those who seek the downfall of Judah 
 that we should go to war ; let it be the first 
 wisdom of those who seek its safety, to dis- 
 appoint, to defy, and to denounce them.” 
 The words were followed by a visible agi- 
 tation among the hearers. “ Let an embassy 
 be instantly sent to the proconsul,” said he, 
 
 “ lamenting the excesses of the night, and 
 offering hostages for peace.” The silence 
 grew breathless; the orator wrapped in his 
 robe, and bending his head like a tiger 
 crouching-, waited for the work of passions; 
 then suddenly starting up, and fixing his 
 stormy gaze full on Eleazar, thundered out, 
 
 “ And at the head of those hostages be sent 
 the incendiary who caused this night’s havoc, 
 and sent in chains !” 
 
 The words were received with fierce ap- 
 plause by the assemblage ; and crowds rush- 
 ed into the arena, to enforce them by the 
 seizure of Eleazar. I glanced at him ; his 
 life hung by a hair, but not a feature of his 
 noble countenance was disturbed : I sprj.ng 
 
 j upon the pavement at the foot of the throne ; 
 | every moment was precious ; the multitude 
 were Taging with the fury of wild beasts. 
 My voice was at length heard ; the name of 
 Salathie! had become powerful, and the tu- 
 mult partially subsided. My words were few, 
 but they came from the heart. I asked them, 
 was it to be thought of, that men should de- 
 liver up men of their own nation, of their 
 purest blood, the last scions of the mightiest 
 families of Israel, into the hands of the idol- 
 ater 1 and for what crime 1 For an act 
 •which every true Israelite would glory to 
 have done; for rescuing the altar of the 
 living God from pollution. 1 bade them be- 
 ware of dipping their hands in righteous 
 blood for the gratification of a revenge, that 
 had for twenty years poisoned the breast of 
 a hoary traitor to his priesthood and his 
 country. 
 
 “ We were threatened with the irresistible 
 power of Rome. Were we to forget that 
 Rome was at this moment torn with internal 
 miseries, her provinces in revolt, her senate 
 decimated, her citizens turned into a mass 
 of jailers and prisoners ; and, darkest sign 
 of degradation, that Nero was upon her 
 throne I” 
 
 “ Whom,” said I, “ have we conquered this 
 night! a Roman army. Where have we 
 conquered them ! in the midst of their walls 
 and machines. By whom was the conquest 
 achieved I By the unarmed, undisciplined, 
 unguided men of Israel. The shepherd and 
 the tiller of the ground with but the staff and 
 sling smote the cuirassed Roman, as the son 
 of Jesse smote the Philistine !” 
 
 The native bravery of the people lived 
 again, and they shouted, in the language of 
 the temple, “ Glory to the King of Israel ! 
 Glory to the God of David !” 
 
 Onias saw the tide turning, and started 
 from his seat to address the assembly; but 
 he was overpowered with outcries of anger. 
 Furious at the loss of his fame and his re- 
 venge, he rushed through the arena towards 
 the spot where I stood. Jubal, ever gallant 
 and watchful, bounded from my side, and 
 seized the traitor’s hand in the act of un- 
 sheathing a dagger; he wrested the weapon 
 from him, and, at a sign from me, was ready 
 to have plunged it into his heart. Eleazar’s 
 sonorous voice was then first heard. “ Let 
 no violence be done upon that slave of his 
 passions. No Jewish blond must stain our 
 holy cause. Return, Onias, to your tribe, 
 and give the rest of your days to repent- 
 ance.” Jubal cast the baffled homicide from 
 his gTasp far into the crowd. 
 
 The universal echo was war. “Ruin to 
 the idolater. War for the temple.” “ War,” 
 I exclaimed, 11 is wisdom, honor, security. 
 Let us bow our necks again, and we shall be 
 
26 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 rewarded by the axe. The Romans never! 
 forgive, until the hrave man who resists, is 
 either a slave or a corpse ; the work of this 
 night has put us beyond pardon ; and our only 
 hope is in arms, the appeal to that sovereign 
 justice before which nothing is strong but 
 virtue, truth, and patriotism. War is inevi- 
 table.” 
 
 My words, few as they were, rekindled the 
 chilled ardor of the national heart. They 
 were followed by shouts for instant battle. 
 “ War against the world, liberty to Israel.” 
 Some voices began a hymn ; the habits of 
 the people prepared them for this powerful 
 mode of expressing their sympathies. The 
 whole assembly spontaneously stood up, and 
 joined in the hymn. The magnificent invo- 
 cation of David, “ Let God arise, and let his 
 enemies be scattered,” ascended in solemn 
 harmonies on the wings of the morning. It 
 was heard over the awaking city, and an- 
 swered ; the chant of glory spread to the en- 
 campments on the surrounding hills; and in 
 every pause, we heard the responses rolling 
 on the air in rich thunder. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The result of our deliberation was, that 
 Israel should be summoned to make a last 
 grand effort; that Jerusalem should be 
 left with a strong garrison as the centre 
 of the armies; and that every chieftain 
 should set forth to stir up the energies of his 
 people. 
 
 Eleazar and his kinsmen were instantly 
 upon the road to the mountains; and all was 
 haste, and that mixture of anxiety and anima- 
 tion which makes all other life tasteless and 
 colorless to the warrior. With what new 
 vividness did the coming conflict invest 
 the varied and romantic country, through 
 which he had already journeyed so often ! 
 The hill, the marble ravine, the superb 
 sweep of forest, that we once looked on but 
 with the vague indulgence of a picturesque 
 eye, now filled us with the vision of camps 
 and battles. Hunters of the lion, we had 
 felt something of this interest in tracing the 
 ground where we were to combat the kingly 
 savage. But what were the triumphs of the 
 chase to the mighty chances of that struggle 
 in which a kingdom was to be the field, and 
 the Roman glory the victim ! 
 
 Man is belligerent by nature, and the 
 thought of war summons up sensations and 
 even faculties within hjm, that in the com- 
 mon course of life would have been no more 
 
 discoverable than the bottom of the sea; the 
 moral earthquake must come to strip the 
 bosom to our gaze. Even EleaZar’s calm 
 and grave wisdom felt the spirit of the time, 
 and he reasoned on the probabilities of the 
 struggle, with the lofty ardor of a king pre- 
 paring to win a new throne. Jubal’s san- 
 guine temper was irrestrainable ; he was the 
 war-horse in the sight of the banners; his 
 bronzed cheek glowed with hope and exulta- 
 tion ; he saw in every cloud of dust a Roman 
 squadron ; and grasped his lance, and wheel- 
 ed his foaming charger, with the eager joy 
 of a soldier longing to assuage his thirst for 
 battle. 
 
 The weight on my melancholy mind was 
 beyond the power of chance or time to re- 
 move ; but a new strength was in the crisis. 
 The world to me was covered with clouds 
 eternal, but it was now brightened by a wild 
 and keen lustre ; I saw my way by the light- 
 ning. An irresistible conviction still told 
 me that the last day of Israel was approach- 
 ing, and that no sacrifice of valor or virtue 
 could avert the ruin. In the midst of the 
 loudest exhilaration of the fearless hearts 
 around me, the picture of the coming ruin 
 would grow upon my eyes. I saw my gene- 
 rous friends perish one by one ; my house- 
 hold desolate ; every name that 1 ever loved 
 passed away. When I bent my eyes round 
 the horizon luxuriating in tiie golden sun- 
 shine of the east, I saw but a huge altar, 
 covered with the fatal offerings of its slaugh- 
 tered people. 
 
 And this was seen, not with the misty un- 
 certainty of a mind prone to dreams of evil; 
 but with a clearness of foresight, a distinct 
 and defined reality, that left no room for con- 
 jecture. Yet, and here was the bitterest 
 part of my meditation, what was all this 
 ruin to me? What were those men and 
 women, and households and lands, but as 
 the leaves on the wind, to me! I might 
 strive in the last extremities of their strug- 
 gle. I might undergo. the agonies of death 
 with them a thousand times ; and I inwardly 
 pledged myself never to desert their cause, 
 iovely and generous as it was, while through 
 I pain or sorrow I could cling to it; but this, 
 'however protracted, must have an end. I 
 must see the final hour of them all ; and 
 more unhappy, more destitute, more undone 
 than all, I must be deprived of the consola- 
 tion of making my tomb with the right- 
 eous, and laying my weary heart in the 
 slumbers of their grave ! 
 
 Yet I experienced, strangely mingled 
 with the deepest despondency of the future, 
 more than the keenest fervor of the impulse 
 which was now burning around me. With 
 me it was not kingly care, nor the animal 
 ardency of the soldier. It was the high, 
 
Salat hi el. 
 
 27 
 
 disturbing stimulation of something like the 
 infusion of a new principle of existence. I 
 felt as if I had become the vehicle of a de- 
 scended spirit. A ceaseless current of 
 thought ran through my brain. Old know- 
 ledge, that I had utterly forgotten, revived 
 in me with spontaneous freshness. Casual 
 impressions and long past years arose, with 
 their stamps and marks as clear as if a hoard 
 of medals had been suddenly brought to light, 
 and thrown before me. I ran over in my 
 recollection persons and names with even 
 painful accuracy. The feeble claims and 
 conceptions of those for whom I once felt 
 habitual deference, were now seen by me in 
 their nakedness. All that was habitual was 
 done away ; I saw intuitively the vanity and 
 giddiness, the inconsequential reasoning, the 
 heavy and bewildering prejudice, that made 
 up what in other days I had called the wis- 
 dom of the wise. 
 
 As 1 threw out in the most unpremedi- 
 tated language the ideas that were glowing 
 and struggling for escape, I found that the 
 impression of some extraordinary excitement 
 in rne was universal. Accustomed to be 
 heard with the attention due to my rank, I 
 now saw the ears and eyes of my fellow- 
 travellers turned on me with an evident and 
 deferential surprise. When I talked of the 
 hopes of the country, of the resources of the 
 enemy, of the kingdoms that would be ready 
 to make common cause with us against the 
 galling tyranny of Nero, of the glory of 
 fighting for our altars, and of the imperish- 
 able honors of those whose blood earned 
 peace for their children ; they listened as to 
 something more than man. “ Was I the 
 prophet delegated at last to lead Judea to 
 her glory.” 
 
 I At those discourses, bursting from my 
 lips with unconscious fire, the old men 
 would vow the remnant of their days to 
 the field ; the young would sweep over 
 the country, performing the evolutions of 
 the Roman cavalry, then return, brandishing 
 their weapons, and demanding to be let 
 loose on the first cohort that crossed the 
 horizon. 
 
 With me every pulse was war. The inter- 
 est which this new direction of our minds 
 gave to all things, grew perpetually more in- 
 tense. We spurred to the barren heath; it 
 had now no deformity, for upon it we saw the 
 spot from which battle might be offered to 
 an army advancing through the valley 
 below. The marsh that spread its yellow 
 stagnation over the plain, might be worth 
 a province for the protection of our camp. 
 The thicket, the broken bank of the moun- 
 tain torrent, the bluff promontory, the rock, 
 the sand, every repellant feature of the land- 
 scape, was invested with the value of a 
 
 thing of life and death, a portion of the great 
 stake in the game that was so soon to be 
 played for restoration or ruin. 
 
 Those are the delights of soldiership; the 
 indescribable and brilliant colorings which the 
 sense of danger, the desire of fame, and the 
 hope of triumph, throw over life and nature. 
 Yet if war was ever to be forgiven for its 
 cause, to be justified by the high remem-- 
 brances and desperate injuries of a people, 
 or to be encouraged by the physical strength 
 of a country, it was the final war of Israel. 
 In all my wanderings I have seen no king- 
 dom, for defence, equal to Judea. It had in 
 the highest degree the three grand essen- 
 tials, compactness of territory, density of 
 population, and strength of frontier. If I 
 were at this hour to be sent forth to select 
 from the earth a kingdom, I should say, even 
 extinguishing the recollections of my being, 
 and the love which I bear to the very weeds 
 of my country ; for beauty, for climate, for 
 natural wealth, and for invincible security, 
 give me Judea. 
 
 The Land of Promise had been chosen 
 by the Supreme Wisdom for the inheritance 
 of a people destined to be unconquerable 
 while they continued pure. It was surround- 
 ed on all sides but one by mountains and 
 deserts; and that one was defended by the 
 sea, which at the same time opened to it 
 the intercourse of the richest countries of 
 the west. On the north, rendered hazard- 
 ous by the vast population of Asia Minor, 
 it was protected by the double range of the 
 Libanus and Antilibanus, a region of forests 
 and defiles, at all seasons nearly impassable 
 to the ancient chariots and cavalry ; and, 
 during winter, barred up with torrents and 
 snows. 
 
 The whole frontier to the east and south 
 was a wall of mountain rising from a desert ; 
 a durable barrier over which no enemy, ex- 
 hausted by the privations of an Asiatic 
 march, could force their way against a brave 
 army waiting fresh within its own confines. 
 But even if the Syrian wastes of sand, and 
 the fiery soil of Arabia, left the invaders 
 strength to master the mountain defences, 
 the whole interior was full of the finest 
 positions for defence that ever caught the 
 soldier’s eye. 
 
 All the mountains sent branches through 
 the campaign. As we spurred up the sides 
 of Carmel, we saw an horizon covered 
 with hills like clouds. Every city was 
 built on an eminence, and capable of being 
 instantly converted into a fortress. But 
 while an army kept the field, the larger 
 operations of strategy would have found 
 matchless support in the course of the Jor- 
 dan, the second defence of Judea; a line 
 passing through the whole central country 
 
28 
 
 Salaihiel. 
 
 from north to south, with the lake of Tiberias 
 and the lake Asphalties at either extreme, 
 at once defending and supplying the move- 
 ments in front, flank, and rear. 
 
 The territory thus defensible had an 
 additional and superior strength in the 
 character and habits of its population. In a 
 space of two hundred miles long by a hun- 
 dred broad, its inhabitants once amounted 
 to nearly six millions, tillers of the ground, 
 bold tribes, invigorated by their life of indus- 
 try, and connected with each other by the 
 most intimate and frequent intercourse under 
 the Divine command. By the law of Moses, 
 
 • — may he rest in glory ! — every man from 
 twenty to sixty, was liable to be called on 
 for the general defence ; and the customary 
 armament of the tribes was appointed at six 
 hundred thousand men ! 
 
 The munitions of war were in abundance. 
 All the varieties of troops known in the 
 ancient armies were to be found in Judea, 
 in the highest discipline, from the spearsman 
 to the archer and the slinger, from the 
 heavy-armed soldier of the fortress to the 
 ranger of the desert and the mountain. 
 Cavalry were prohibited ; for the purpose 
 of the Jewish armament was defence. The 
 spirit of the Jewish code was peace. By 
 the prohibition of cavalry, no conquests could 
 be made on the bordering kingdoms of inter- 
 minable plains. The command that the 
 males of the tribes should go up thrice in 
 the year to the great festivals of Jerusalem, 
 was equally opposed to encroachments on the 
 neighboring states. It was not till Israel 
 abandoned the purity of the original Cove- 
 nant with Heaven, that the evils of ambition 
 or tyranny were felt within her borders. 
 
 Her whole policy was under a divine 
 sanction; and her whole preservation was 
 distinguished by the perpetual agency of 
 miracle, for the obvious purpose of compel- 
 ling the people to know the God of their 
 fathers. But the physical strength of such 
 a people in such a territory was incalculable. 
 Severity of climate will not ultimately repel 
 an invader, for that severity scatters and 
 exhausts the population. Difficulties of 
 country have been perpetually overpassed 
 by a daring invader in the attack of a feeble 
 or negligent people. To what nation were 
 their snows, their marshes, or their sands, a 
 barrier against the great armies of the an- 
 cient or the modern world 1 The Alps and 
 the Pyrenees have been passed, as often as 
 they have been attempted. But no empire 
 can conquer a nation of six millions of men 
 determined to resist ; no army that could be 
 thrown across the frontier, would find the 
 means of penetrating through a compact 
 population, of which every man was a sol- 
 dier, and every man was fighting for his own. 
 
 The Jew was, by his law, a free proprietor 
 of the soil ; he was no serf, nor broken vas- 
 sal. He inherited his portion of the land by 
 an irrevocable title. Debt, misfortune, or 
 time could not extinguish his right. Capa- 
 ble of being alienated from him for a few 
 years, the land returned at the Jubilee. 
 He was then once more a possesser, the 
 master of competence, and restored to his 
 rank among his fellow men. This bond, the 
 most benevolent and the strongest that ever 
 bound man to a country, was the bond of the 
 Covenant. If Israel had held the institutions 
 of her Lawgiver inviolate, she would have 
 seen the Assyrian, the Egyptian, and the 
 Roman, with all their multitudes, only food 
 for the vulture. But we were a rebellious 
 people; we sullied the purity of the Mosaic 
 ordinances ; we abandoned the sublime cere- 
 monial of the divine worship for the profligate 
 rites of paganism ; we rejected the Lord of 
 the Theocracy for the pomps of an earthly 
 king. The mighty protection that had been 
 to us as eagles’ wings and as a wall of fire, 
 was withdrawn. Our first punishment was 
 by our own hand; the union of Israel was a 
 band of flax in the flame. The tribe revolted. 
 Then was the time for the hostile idolater to 
 do his work. We were overwhelmed' by 
 enemies in alliance with our own blood. 
 The banners of the sons of Jacob were seen 
 waving beside the banners of the worship- 
 pers of Ashtaroth and Apis. An opening 
 was made into the bosom of the land for all 
 invasion; the barrier of the mountain and 
 the desert were in vain ; the proverbial bra- 
 very of the Jew only rendered his chain 
 more severe; and the policy that, of old, 
 united the highest wisdom with the purest 
 truth and the most benevolent meicy, was at 
 once the scoff and problem of the prgan world. 
 
 But opulence, salubrity, and varousness of 
 production, belonged to the site of the land 
 of Israel. It lay central between the richest 
 regions of the world. It was the natural 
 road of the traffic of India with the west; 
 that traffic which raised Tyre and Sidon from 
 rocks and shallows on a fragment of the 
 shore of Judea into magnificent cities; and 
 which was yet to raise into political power 
 and unrivalled wealth, the rocks and shallows 
 of the remotest shore of the Mediterranean. 
 
 Our mountain ranges tempered the hot 
 winds from the wilderness. The sea cooled 
 the summer heats with the living breeze and 
 tempered the chill of winter. Our fields 
 teemed with perpetual fruits and flowers. 
 
 The extent of the land, though narrow, 
 (contrasted with that of the surrounding king- 
 doms, was yet not to be measured by the 
 lineal boundaries ; a country intersected 
 every where with chains of hills capable of 
 cultivation to the summit, alike multiplies 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 29 
 
 its surface, and varies its climate. We had 
 at the foot of the hill the products of the tor- 
 rid zone; on its side those of the temperate; 
 in its summit the robust vegetation of the 
 north. The ascending circles of the orange 
 grove, the vineyard, and the forest, covered 
 it with perpetual beauty. 
 
 This scene of matchless productiveness is 
 fair and fertile no more. For ages before 
 my eyes opened on the land of my fathers, 
 tire national misfortunes had impaired its 
 original loveliness. The schism of the tribes, 
 the ravages of successive invaders, and still 
 more the continued presence of the idolater 
 and the alien, in the heart of the land, turned 
 large portions of it into desert. The final 
 fall almost destroyed the traces of its fruit- 
 fulness. What can be demanded from the 
 soil lorded over by the tyranny of the Mos- 
 lem, stripped of its population, and given 
 up to the mendicant, the monk, and the 
 robber 1 
 
 But more than human evil smote my un- 
 happy country. The curse pronounced by 
 our great prophet three thousand years ago, 
 has been deeply fulfilled. “The stranger 
 that shall come from a far land shall say, 
 when he beholdeth the plagues of the land, 
 and the sicknesses that the Lord hath laid 
 upon it, the land of brimstone and salt and 
 burning, even all nations shall say — ‘ Where- 
 fore hath the Lord done this unto this land 1 
 What meaneth the heat of this great anger V 
 Then men shall say — ‘Because they have 
 forsaken the covenant of the Lord God of 
 their fathers !’ ” 
 
 The soil has been blasted. Sterility has 
 struck into its heart. Whole provinces are 
 covered with sands and ashes. It has the 
 look of an exhausted volcano! 
 
 Yet, what might have been the progress 
 of this people! The glory of Israel is no 
 fine vision of the fancy. The same prophetic 
 word which has given terrible demonstration 
 of its reality in our ruin, declares the hope 
 once held forth to our obedience. Judea 
 was to have borne the first rank among na- 
 tions; it was to have been an object of uni- 
 versal wonder and honor; to have been un- 
 conquerable; to have enjoyed unwearied 
 fertility : to have been protected from the 
 casualties of the elements; to have been 
 free from disease; the life of its people con- 
 tinuing to the farthest limit of our nature. 
 A blessing was to be upon the labors, the 
 possessions, and the persons of the tribes; 
 All Israel, a nation, in the highest sense of 
 the word — a sovereign race, to which the 
 world should pay a willing and happy hom- 
 age. 
 
 What must have been the operation of 
 this illustrious instance of the preservative 
 power of Heaven, on the darkened empires ; 
 
 3 
 
 of the scriptural lights perpetually beaming 
 from Judea; of the living, palpable happi- 
 ness of obedience to the Supreme; of the 
 perpetual security of the land in the Divine 
 protection ; of the internal peace, health, 
 plenteousness, and freedom ! Man is weak 
 and passionate, but no blindness could have 
 hid from his contemplations this proof of the 
 human value of virtue. 
 
 We must add to this the direct influence 
 of a governing people, placed in its rank for 
 the express purpose of a guide to nations. 
 Combining the sacred impulses, knowledge, 
 and devotedness, of a priesthood, with the 
 actual power and dignity of kings; by its 
 own constitution as safe from all encroach- 
 ment, as prohibited from all aggression ; in- 
 formed by the immediate wisdom, and sus- 
 tained in its generous and hallowed enter- 
 prise by the uncovered arm of Omnipotence ; 
 Judea might have changed the earth into a 
 paradise, and raised universal man to the 
 highest happiness, knowledge, and dignity of 
 his human nature. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 We reached the hills of Naphtali at the 
 close of one of the most delicious days of 
 summer. All nature was clothed with its 
 robe of genial beauty; the olives on the 
 higher grounds had put forth their first green, 
 and with every slight gust that swept across 
 them, heaved like sheets of emerald ; the 
 birds sang in a thousand notes from every 
 bush ; the sheep and camels lay in the mea- 
 dows visibly enjoying the cool air; the shep- 
 herds sat gathered together on the side of 
 some gentle eminence, talking, or listening 
 to the songs of the maidens that came in long 
 lines to the fountains below. The heavens 
 gave prospect of a glorious day, in colors 
 shown only to the Oriental eye; hues so 
 brilliant, that many a traveller stops on the 
 verge of the valleys, arrested, in his haste 
 homeward, by the glow and pomp above. All 
 was the loveliness and joy of pastoral life, in 
 the only country where I ever found it real- 
 ized. 
 
 The mind is to be medicined by natural 
 loveliness, and mine was cheered. To re- 
 turn to our home is at all times a delight; 
 but the new conjuncture, the high hopes 
 for the future, and the consciousness that 
 a career of the most distinguished honors 
 might be opening before my steps, made 
 this return more vivid than all the past; 
 and when we reached the foot of the 
 long ascent from which my dwelling was 
 visible, I felt an impatience beyond re- 
 straint, and spurred up the hill alone. 
 
. Salathiel. 
 
 How fine the ear becomes, when it is quick- 
 ened by the heart ! As the broken mountain 
 road, now made more difficult by the darkness 
 of the wild pines and cedars that crowned the 
 summit, compelled me to slacken my pace ; 
 
 I thought that I could distinguish the house- 
 hold voices, the barking of my hounds, and 
 the laugh of the retainers and peasantry, that 
 during the summer crowded my doors. 
 
 I pictured the dearer group that had so of- 
 ten welcomed me. The early and cruel loss 
 of my son had not been repaired. I was not 
 destined to be the father of a race ; but two 
 daughters were given to me, and in the absence 
 of all ambition, they were more than a re- 
 compense. Salome, the elder, was now ap- 
 proaching to womanhood ; she had the dark 
 eyes and animated beauty of her mother ; the 
 foot of the antelope was not lighter ; and her 
 wreathed smile, her intellectual sportiveness, 
 her laugh of innocence, and buoyancy of 
 soul, forbade sorrow in her sight. Oh, what 
 I afterwards saw that face of living joy ! — 
 What floods of sorrow bathed those cheeks, 
 that shamed the Persian rose ! 
 
 The younger was scarcely more than a 
 child ; her mind and her form were yet equal- 
 ly in the bud ; but she had an eye of the deep- 
 est azure, a living star; and even in her play- 
 fulness there was an elevation, a lofty and 
 fervent spirit, that made me often forget her 
 years. She was mistress of music almost 
 by nature, and the cadences and rich modu- 
 lations that poured from her harp, under fin- 
 gers slight and feeble, as if the stalks of flow- 
 ers had been flung across the strings, were 
 like secrets of harmony treasured for her 
 touch alone. Our prophets, the true masters 
 of the sublime, were her rapturous study. — 
 Their truth might be veiled, but their genius 
 blazed broad upon her sensitive soul. 
 
 I imaged my children hastening through the 
 portal, twined hand in hand with their noble 
 mother, still in the prime of matron beauty, 
 and still grown dearer to my heart, to give 
 me welcome. The light thickened, and the 
 intricacy of the forest impeded me. At length, 
 wearied by the delay, I sprang from my horse, 
 left him to make his way as he could, and 
 urged my path through a thicket which 
 crept round the skirts of the forest, and which 
 alone obstructed the view of the spot that 
 contained all that earth held precious to me. 
 As I struggled onward, listening with sharp- 
 ened anxiety for every sound of home, I caught 
 a sound like that of a wild beast rustling close 
 at my side. The thicket was utterly dark. 
 My eyes were useless. I drew my scimetar 
 and plunged it straight before me. The blow 
 was instantly followed by a shriek. Friend 
 or enemy, silence was now impossible, and I 
 demanded who was nigh. I was answered I 
 but by groans ; my next step was on a body. I 
 
 Shocked and startled, 1 yet lifted it in my 
 arms, and bore the dying man to an open 
 space where the moonlight glimmered. To 
 my unspeakable horror, he was one of my 
 most favored attendants, whom I had left in 
 the principal charge of my household. I had 
 slain him : I tore up my mantle to staunch 
 his deadly wound; but he fiercely repelled 
 my hand. In an undefined dread of some 
 evil to my family I commanded him to speak, 
 if but one word, and tell me that all was safe. 
 He buried his face in the ground. In the 
 whirlwind of my thoughts I flung him from 
 me, that I might go forward, and know the 
 good or evil : but he clung round my feet, and 
 exerted his last breath to implore me not to 
 leave him to die alone. “ You have killed 
 me,” said he, in broken accents : but it was 
 not your hand, but the hand of the Avenger. 
 
 I was corrupted by gold. You have terrible 
 enemies among the leaders of Jerusalem : a 
 desperate deed has been done.” My suspense 
 amounted to agony : I made another effort to 
 cast off the trammels of the assassin : but he 
 still implored. “ Evil things were whispered 
 against you. I was told that you had been 
 convicted of a horrible crime.” The sound 
 shot through my senses; he must have felt 
 the trembling of my frame : for he for the 
 first time, looked upon my face. “ My eyes 
 are gone,” groaned he, and fell back. I dared 
 not meet the glance, even of his clouding 
 eyes. “ They said that you were condemned 
 to an unspeakable punishment; and that the 
 man who swept the world of you and yours, 
 did God service. In my hour of sin the 
 tempter met me ; and this day from sunrise 
 have I lurked on your road, to strike .ny ben- 
 efactor and my lord. In the dark I lost my 
 way in the thicket ; but vengeance found me.” 
 — “ My family, my wife, my children are they 
 safel” I exclaimed. He quivered, relaxed 
 his hold, and, uttering “Forgive,” two or 
 three times, with nervous agony, expired. 
 
 A single bound from this spot of death 
 placed me on the point of a rock, from which I 
 had often gazed on my little world in the valley. 
 The moon was now bright, and the view unob- 
 structed. I looked down. Were my eyes 
 dim 1 There was no habitation benea th me : 
 the grove, the garden, were there, sleeping 
 in the moonlight ; but all that had the sem- 
 blance of life was gone ! I rushed down and 
 found myself among ruins and ashes still hot. 
 I called aloud — in terror and distraction I 
 yelled to the night: but no voice answered 
 me. My foot struck upon something in the 
 grass ; it was a sword, black with recent 
 blood. There had been burning, plunder, 
 slaughter here, in this treasure-house of my 
 heart ; desolation had been busy in the cen- 
 tre of what was to me life, more than life. 
 I raved ; I flew through the fields ; I rushed 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 back to convince myself that I was not la- ! 
 boring under some frightful dream. What I 
 endured that night, I never endured again ; 
 that conflict of fear, astonishment, love and 
 misery, could be contained but once even in 
 my bosom : in all others it must have been 
 death. In the moment of reviving hope, I 
 had been smitten. While my spirit was as- 
 cending on the wings of justified ambition 
 and sacred love of country, I had been dashed 
 down to earth, a desolate and desperate man. 
 
 What I did thenceforth, or how I passed 
 through that night, I know not; but I was 
 found in the morning with my robe fantasti- 
 cally tnrown over me like a royal mantle, and 
 a fragment of half-burnt wood for a sceptre 
 in my hand, performing the part of a monarch, 
 giving orders for the rebuilding of my palace, 
 and marshaling the movement of an army of 
 shrubs and weeds. I was led away with the 
 lofty reluctance of a captive sovereign, to 
 the household of Eleazar. 
 
 The wrath and grief of my kinsmen were 
 without bounds. Every defile of the moun- 
 tains was searched — every straggler seized : 
 messengers were despatched across the fron- 
 tier with offers of ransom to the chiefs of the 
 desert, in case my family should have escaped 
 the sword. Threats of severe retaliation 
 were used by the Roman governor of the 
 province ; all was in vain. The only glimpse 
 of intelligence was from a shepherd, who two 
 nights before had seen a troop, which he sup- 
 posed to be Arabs, ride swiftly by the gates 
 of Kuriathim, our nearest city; but this in- 
 telligence only added to the misfortune. The 
 habits of those robbers were proverbially sav- 
 age : they attacked by the torch and the 
 sword ; they slaughtered the men without 
 mercy; the females they generally sold into 
 a returnless captivity. To leave no trace of 
 their route, they slaughtered the captives 
 whom they could not carry through their 
 hurried marches. To leave no trace of what 
 they had done, they burned the place of mas- 
 sacre. But this ruin was from other and 
 more malignant hands. 
 
 What I might have suffered in the agony 
 of a bereaved husband and father was spared 
 me. My visitation was of another kind ; 
 dreadful, yet, perhaps, not so pre-eminently 
 wretched, nor so deeply striking at the roots 
 of life. My brain had received an overwhelm- 
 ing blow. Imagination was to be my ty- 
 rant; and every occurrence of life, every as- 
 pect of human being, every variety of nature, 
 day and night, sunshine and storm, made a 
 portion of its fearful empire. 
 
 I was mad, but all my madness was not 
 painful. Books, my old delight, still lulled 
 my mind. I revolved some favorite volume ; 
 then fancy waved her wand, and built upon 
 its contents a world of adventure. Every 
 
 language appeared to open its treasures to 
 me. I roved through all lands — I saw all the 
 eminent for rank or genius — I drank of the 
 fountains of poetry — I addressed listening 
 senates, and heard the air echo their applause. 
 Wit, beauty, talent, laid their inestimable 
 tributes at my feet. I was exalted to the 
 highest triumphs of mind ; and then came my 
 fate ; — in the midst of my glory came a cloud, 
 and I was miserable. 
 
 This bitter sense of defeat was a charac- 
 teristic of my visions. Be the cup ever so 
 sweet, it was dashed by a poison-drop at bot- 
 tom. 
 
 I imagined myself the great King of Bab- 
 ylon. From the superb architecture of those 
 palaces, in which Nebuchadnezzar forgot that 
 he was but man, I issued my mandates to a 
 hundred monarcns. I saw the satraps of the 
 East bow their jewelled necks before my 
 throne. I rode at the head of countless ar- 
 mies, Lord of Asia, and future Conquerer of 
 all the realms that saw the sun. In the 
 swelling of my haughty soul I exclaimed, 
 like him, “Is not this the Great Babylon that 
 I have built 1” and, like him in the very ut- 
 tering of the words, I was cast out, humbled 
 to the grass of the field, hideous, brutal, and 
 wretched 
 
 ■ I was Belshazzar. I sat in the halls 
 
 of glory. I heard the harps of minstrels, the 
 voice of singing men and singing women. — 
 The banquet was before me ; I was surround- 
 ed by the trophies of irresistible conquest. — 
 Beauty, flattery, splendor, the delight of the 
 senses, the keener feast of vanity, the rich 
 anticipation of triumph measureless and end- 
 less, made me all but a god. I put the pro- 
 faned cup of the temple to my lips. Thun- 
 der pealed : the serene sky, the only canopy 
 worthy of my banquet and my throne, was 
 sheeted over with lightning. I swallowed 
 the wine — it was poison and fire in my veins. 
 The gigantic hand came forth, and wrote up- 
 on the wall 
 
 The moon, the ancient mistress of the dis- 
 eased mind, strongly exerted her spells on 
 mine. I loved her light; but it was only 
 when it mingled softly with the shadows of 
 the forest and the landscape. I welcomed 
 her return from darkness, as the coming of 
 some guardian genius to shed at once beauty 
 and healing on its path. Darkness was to 
 me a source of terror : daylight overwhelmed 
 me : but the gentle splendor of the crescent 
 had a dewy and refreshing influence on my 
 faculties. I exposed my feverish forehead to 
 her beams, as if to bathe it in celestial balm. 
 I felt in her gradual increase, an increase 
 of power to soothe and console. This indul- 
 gence grew into a kind of visionary passion. 
 I saw in the crescent, as it sailed up the 
 aether a gallery crowded with forms of sur- 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 passing loveliness, faces that bent down and 
 smiled upon me, and hands that showered 
 treasures to be collected by mine alone. But 
 excess even of this light always disturbed 
 me. From the full splendor of the moon, 
 there was no escape; the rays smote upon 
 me with merciless infliction : I fled to the 
 woods as a hunted deer ; a thousand shafts of 
 light penetrated the shade. I hid myself in 
 the depths of my chamber; flames of lambent 
 silver, curling and darting in forms innumer- 
 able, shot round my couch. Upon the ine- 
 qualities of the ground, or the waves of the 
 fountain and the river, serpents of the most 
 inimitable lustre, yet of the most deadly poi- 
 son, coiled and sprang after me with a rapid- 
 ity that mocked human feet. If I dared to 
 glance upwards, I beheld a menacing visage 
 distending to an immeasurable magnitude, 
 and ready to pour down wrath ; or an orb with 
 its mountains and oceans swinging loose 
 through the heaven, and rolling down upon 
 my solitary brow. 
 
 But those were my hours of comparative 
 happiness. I had visions of intense suffering 
 and terror, flights through regions of space, 
 that left earth and the sun incalculable mil- 
 lions of miles behind ; flights ceaseless, hope- 
 less — still hurrying onward with more than 
 winged speed through worlds of worlds, and 
 still enduring; the heart sickening and with- 
 ering with the consciousness of being swept 
 beyond the bounds of living things, and of 
 being doomed to this forever. 
 
 Those trials changed into every shape of 
 desperation. 
 
 I was driven out to sea in a bark that 
 
 let in every wave. I struggled to reach the 
 land — I tore my sinews with toil — I saw the 
 hills, the trees, the shore, sink in slow, yet 
 sure succession — I felt in the hands of an in- 
 visible power, bent on iny undoing. The 
 storm subsided, the sun shone, the ocean was 
 without a surge. Still I struggled ; with the 
 strength of despair I toiled to regain the land 
 — to retard the viewless force that was per- 
 petually urging me farther from existence. — 
 
 I began to suffer thirst and hunger. They 
 grew to pain, to torture, to madness. I felt 
 as if molten lead were poured down my throat. 
 
 I put my arm to my mouth, and shuddering, 
 quenched my thirst in my own veins. It re- 
 turned instantly with a more fiery sting. — 
 There was nothing in the elements to give 
 me hope — to draw off thought from my own 
 fate — to deaden the venomed sensibilities that 
 quivered through every fibre. The wind 
 slept — the sky was cloudless — the sea smooth 
 as glass ; not a distant sail — not a wandering 
 bird — not a springing fish — not even a float- 
 ing weed, broke the terrible monotony. The 
 sun did not pass down the horizon. All above 
 me was unvaried, motionless sky — all around, 
 
 unvaried, motionless ocean. I alone moved 
 — still urged farther from the chance of life , 
 still undergoing new accessions of agony that 
 made the past trivial. I tasted the water be- 
 side me : it added fire to fire. 1 convulsively 
 darted out my withered hands, as if they could 
 have drawn down the rain, or grasped the 
 dew. I withered piecemeal, yet with a con- 
 tinuing consciousness in every fragment of 
 my frame ! — 
 
 I wandered at midnight through a 
 
 country of mountains. Worn out with fa- 
 tigue, I lay down upon a rock. I found it 
 heave under me. I heard a thunder-peal. — 
 A sudden blaze kindled the sky. Bewildered 
 and stunned, I started on my feet. The moun- 
 tains were on flame ; a hundred mouths poured 
 down torrents of liquid fire ; they came shoot- 
 ing in sulphureous cataracts down the chasms. 
 The forests burned before them like a gar- 
 ment — the rocks melted — the rivers flew up 
 in sheets of vapor — the valleys were basins 
 of glowing ore — the clouds of smoke and ash- 
 es gathered over my head in a solid vault of 
 gloom, wildly enlightened by the flashes of 
 the conflagration below — the land was a cav- 
 ern of fire. In terror inconceivable, I ran, I 
 bounded, I plunged down declivities, I swam 
 rivers : still the fiery torrents hunted my steps, 
 as if they had been commissioned against me 
 alone. I felt them gathering speed on me ; 
 when I bounded, the spot from which I sprang 
 was on flame before I alighted on the ground. 
 
 I climbed a promontory with an effort that ex- 
 hausted my last nerve. The fatal lava swept 
 round its foot ; and, in another instant, must 
 encircle me. I ran along the edge of a pre- 
 cipice that made the brain turn; the fire 
 chased me from pinnacle to pinnacle. I clung 
 to the weeds and trunks of trees on its sides, 
 and, in fear of being dashed to pieces, trem- 
 blingly let myself down the wall of perpen- 
 dicular rock. Breathless and dying at the 
 bottom of the descent, I glanced upwards; 
 the flame of the thicket on the brow showed 
 me my pursuer. I saw the rapid swelling of 
 the molten tide. In another moment, it 
 plunged through the air in a white column. 
 The valley was instantly an expanse of con- 
 flagration — every spot was inundated with 
 the blaze. I flew, with scorching feet — with 
 every sinew of my frame parched and dried 
 of its substance — with my eyes blinded, and 
 my lungs burned up with the suffocating 
 fumes that rushed before, around, and above. 
 At length my limit was reached. The land 
 afforded no farther room for flight. I stood 
 on the verge of the ocean. Death was inev- 
 itable. I had but the choice. Before me 
 spread the world of waters, sad, dim, fathom- 
 less, interminable ; behind me, the world of 
 flame. By a last desperate effort, I plunged 
 into the ocean. The indefatigable lava rolled 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 or), mass on mass, like armies rushing; to the 
 assault. The billows shrank before the first 
 fiery shock, sheets of vapor rolled up ; still 
 the eruption rolled on, and the returning- bil- 
 lows fought against it ; the conflict shook the 
 land ; the mountain shore crumbled down ; 
 tire sands melted and burned vitreous ; the 
 atmosphere discharged scalding torrents; the 
 winds, shaken from their balance, raged 
 with the violence of more than tempest. — 
 Thunder roared in peals that shook the earth, 
 the ocean, and the heavens. In the midst of 
 all I lived, tossed like a grain of sand in the 
 whirlwind. 
 
 Strange and harrassing as those trials of 
 my mind were, they had yet contained some 
 appeals to individual energy, some excite- 
 ment of personal powers, that produced a kind 
 of cheering self-applause. I was Prometheus 
 on his rock, chained and remediless, yet still 
 resistingand unconquered. But the true mis- 
 ery was when I was passive. 
 
 1 strayed through an Egyptian city. 
 
 Buildings numberless, of the most regal de- 
 sign, rose round me ; the walls were covered 
 with sculptures of extraordinary richness — no- 
 ble statues lined the public ways — wealth in 
 the wildest profusion was visible wherever the 
 foot trod. Endless ranges of porphyry and 
 alabaster columns glittered in the noon. Su- 
 perb ascents of marble steps mounted before 
 me, to heights that strained the eye. Arch 
 over arch, studded with the lustre of precious 
 stones, climbed until they lay like rainbows 
 upon the sky. Colossal towers circled with 
 successive colonades of dazzling brightness 
 ascended — airy citadels, looking down upon 
 the earth, and colored with the infinite dies 
 and lustres of the clouds. But all was silence 
 in this scene of pomp. There was no tread 
 of human being heard within the circuit of 
 a city, fit for more than man. The utter ex- 
 tinction of all that gives the idea of life was 
 startling; there was not the note of a pass- 
 ing bird, not the cherup of a grasshopper. — 
 
 I instinctively shrank from the sight of things 
 lovely in themselves, yet which froze my 
 mind by their image of the tomb. But to es- 
 cape was impossible ; there was an impression 
 of powerlessness upon me, for whose melan- 
 choly I can find no words. My feet were 
 chainless, but never fetter clung with such a 
 retarding weight, as that invisible bond by 
 which I was fixed to the spot. Ages on 
 ages seemed to have heavily sunk aw-ay, 
 and still I stood, bound by the same manacle, 
 standing on the same spot, looking on the 
 same objects. To this I would have preferred 
 the fiercest extremes of suffering. The pas- 
 sion for change is the most incapable of being 
 extinguished or eluded of all that dwell with- 
 in the heart of man. 
 
 But the change at length came. The sun 
 
 decayed. Twilight fell, shade on shade, on 
 ; tower and column : until total darkness shroud- 
 ed the scene of glory. Yet, as if a new 
 faculty of sight were given to me, the thick- 
 est darkness did not blunt the eye. I still 
 saw all things — the minutest figures of the 
 architecture, the finest carving of the airy 
 castles, whose height was, even in the sun- 
 shine, almost too remote for vision. Sudden- 
 ly, there echoed the murmur of many voices, 
 the trooping of many feet; the colossal gates 
 opened, and a procession of forms innumera- 
 ble entered ; they were of every period of life, 
 of every pursuit, of every rank, of every coun- 
 try. All the various emblems of station, all 
 the weapons and implements of mankind, 
 all costumes, rich and strange, civilized and 
 savage ; all the attributes and adjuncts of the 
 occupations of society moved in that mighty 
 train. The monarch, sceptred and crowned, 
 passed on his throne ; the soldier reining his 
 charger ; the philosopher gazing on his vol- 
 ume ; the priest bearing the instruments of 
 sacrifice. It was the triumph of a power 
 ruling all mankind : but ruling them when 
 the world has passed away — Death ! 
 
 While I gazed in breathless awe, I found 
 myself involved in the procession. Resist- 
 ance was vain : I was conscious that I might 
 as well have struggled against the tides of the 
 ocean, or thought to stop the revolution of the 
 globe. We advanced through the place of 
 darkness by millions of millions, yet without 
 crowding the majestic avenue, or reaching 
 its close. I rapidly recognized a multitude 
 of faces, which I had known from the models 
 and memorials of the past ages. But the 
 power that marshaled them had no regard to 
 time. The pale, fixed Asiatic countenance 
 of Ninus moved beside the glowing cheek 
 and flashing eye of Alexander. The patri- 
 arch followed the Caesar. The thousand 
 years were as one day — the one day as a 
 thousand years. 
 
 The whole stately train suddenly melted 
 upon the eye, and I was alone, in tenfold dark- 
 ness — entombed. I lay in the sepulchre, 
 and with the full vividness of life, and with a 
 perfect knowledge that there it was my doom 
 to lie forever. A miraculous foresight gifted 
 me with the fearful privilege of looking into 
 the most remote futurity. Ages on ages un- 
 folded themselves, with all their wonders, to 
 tantalize me. I saw worlds awake from chaos, 
 and return to it in flood and flame. I saw sys- 
 tems swept away like the sand. The universe 
 withered with years, and rolled up like the 
 parchment scroll, I saw new regions of space, 
 glowing with a new creation; the angelic 
 hierarchies rising through new 7 energies, new 
 triumphs, new orders of existence ; develop- 
 ments of pow T er and magnificence, of sublime 
 mercy and essential glory, too high for the 
 
34 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 conception of mortal faculties, 
 still to be entombed ! No ray of light, no 
 sound, no trace of external being, no sym- 
 pathy of flesh or spirit, of earth or heaven, 
 was to reach me. The four narrow walls, 
 the winding-sheet, the worm, were my world. 
 
 I seemed to lie thus tor periods beyond 
 all counting; powerless to move a limb; the 
 sleepless, conscious, vivid victim of misery un- 
 speakable — Hie bondsman of the sepulchre 1 
 
 In those wanderings I experienced not even 
 the slightest recollection of the cause which 
 so sternly besieged my brain. Wife, chil-j 
 dren, country, were a blank. Imagination,' 
 that strangest and most imperious of our 
 faculties, whose soarings from earth to hea- 
 ven may be among the indications of power 
 beyond the grave, disdains to linger on the 
 realities of our being. It delights in the 
 commanding, the bold, the superb. In my 
 instance it had the wildness of disease ; but 
 who has ever felt its workings, even in the 
 dream of health, without wonder at its pas- 
 sion for the richer and more highly relieved; 
 remembrances ; its singular skill in throwing 
 together the brilliant portions of life and 
 nature, to the total disregard of the level; 
 its subtlety in the seizure of the circum- 
 stances of pain, its pointings and sbarpen- 
 ings ; its fabrication of adventure, at once 
 of the most regular consecutiveness, and the 
 wildest originality; and all characterized by 
 the same spontaneous swiftness of change, 
 illimitable command over space and time, a 
 power of instant flight from continent to con- 
 tinent, and from world to world ; — the transit 
 that would actually fill up years and ages, 
 the work of a moment ! — the actual moment 
 expanding into years and ages ! 
 
 What are those but the infant attributes 
 of the disembodied spirit! — the imperfect 
 developments of a state of being to which 
 time and space are nothing: — when man, 
 shaking off the covering of the grave, shall 
 be clothed with the might of angels ! — the 
 splendid denizen of Infinitude and Eternity ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 At length the past returned to my mind. 
 Dim recollections, shadows that alternately 
 advanced and eluded me, sketches of forms 
 and events, like pictures unfinished by the 
 pencil, lay before me, colorless and undefined. 
 But day by day the outlines grew more com- 
 plete, the figures assumed a body : they 
 lived — they moved — they uttered voices; 
 and while to other eyes I was a solitary and 
 hopeless fugitive from human converse, to 
 my own 1 was surrounded with a circle of 
 all that I loved : yet, with a continued sense 
 of privation, a mysterious feeling of some- 
 
 thing imperfect in the indulgence, that dash- 
 ed my cup with bitterness. 
 
 With the increase of my strength I be- 
 came a wanderer to great distances among 
 the mountains. No persuasion of my kins- 
 men could restrain me from those excursions. 
 The mildness of a climate in which the popu- 
 lation sleep in the open air, and the abun- 
 | dance of fruits, met the two chief difficulties 
 | of travelling. I felt an irresistible impulse 
 to penetrate the mountain ranges, that rose 
 in chains of purple and azure before me. 
 With the artifice of the diseased mind I 
 made my few preparations in secret ; and 
 with but script and staff, marched forth to 
 tread hill and valley, city and desert, to the 
 last limit of the globe. 
 
 Through what diversities of scene, or im- 
 pediments of road I long passed, no memory 
 rests upon. The same instinct which guides 
 ;the bird, led me to the fruit-tree and the 
 stream, taught where to shelter for the night, 
 land gave me sagacity for the avoidance of 
 the habitual dangers of a route seldom tried 
 but by the wolf and the robber. But my 
 frame, gradually invigorated by exercise, 
 bore me through : and I scaled the chain of 
 Libanus with an unwearied foot. 
 
 There I reached the skirts of a region 
 where the snow scarcely melts even in the 
 burning summer of Syria. The falling of 
 the leaf, and the furious blasts that bursts 
 through the ravines, told me that I had spent 
 months in my pilgrimage, and that I must 
 brave winter on its throne. Still I perse- 
 vered. I felt a new excitement in the new 
 difficulty of the season ; I longed to try my 
 power of endurance against the storm, to 
 wrestle with the whirlwind, to baffle the tor- 
 rent. The very sight of the snow, as it 
 began to sheet the sides of the lower hills, 
 Igave me a vague idea of a brighter realm of 
 existence ; it united the pinnacles with the 
 clouds ; the noble promontories and forest- 
 covered eminences no longer rose in stern 
 contrast, with the sky; they were dipt in 
 celestial blue; they wore the silvery and 
 sparkling lustre of the morning skies; they 
 blushed in the effulgence of the sunset with 
 as rich a crimson as the clouds that crowned 
 them. 
 
 But all was not fantastic vision. From the 
 summit of one of those hills I saw what was 
 then worth a pilgrimage through half the 
 world to see, the cedar grove of Lebanon. 
 After a day of unusual fatigue and perplexity, 
 1 had found my path blocked up by a perpen- 
 dicular pile of rock. To all but myself, the 
 difficulty might have been impractible : but 
 my habits had given me the spring and mus- 
 cle of a panther; I bounded against the mar- 
 ble, and after long effort, by the help of the 
 weeds, and scattered roots of the wild vines, 
 climbed my perilous way to the summit, 
 
 Yet I was 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 35 
 
 An endless range of Syria lay beneath ; the 
 sea and the wilderness gleamed on my left 
 and right; and a rich succession of dells, 
 crowded with the date, the olive, and the 
 grape, in their autumnal dyes, spread out 
 before me, as far as the eye could reach in a 
 land whose air is pure as crystal. 
 
 A sound of trumpets and wild harmonies 
 arose, and I discovered, at an almost view- 
 less depth below, a concourse of people mov- 
 ing' through the hollows of the mountains. 
 The tendency of man to man is irresistible; 
 and that unexpected sight, where but the 
 wild beast and the eagle were to have been 
 my companions, gave me the first sensation 
 of pleasure that I had long experienced. 
 Bounding from rock to rock with a hazardous 
 rapidity which arrested the crowd in aston- 
 ishment and alarm, I joined them just in 
 time to see the shafts and slings laid down 
 which they had prepared for my coming, in 
 the uncertainty whether I were a wolf or a 
 mountain robber. 
 
 They formed one of the many caravans: 
 that annually gathered from the shores of 
 the Mediterranean to worship at Lebanon. 
 Their homage to sacred groves had been 
 transmitted from the earliest antiquity, and 
 was universal in the realms of paganism. 
 To the Jew, worship on the hill and under 
 the tree was prohibited ; but the forest that 
 Solomon had chosen, the trees of which the; 
 first Temple was built, the foliage which; 
 shaded the first planters of the earth, must to i 
 the descendant of Abraham be full of rev- ! 
 erent interest. The ground was scriptural ; 
 the fiery string of the prophet Ezekiel had 
 been struck to its praise; the noblest rap- 
 tures of our poets celebrated the glory of 
 Lebanon ; the names of the surrounding land- 
 scape recalled lofty and lovely memories; the 
 vale of Eden led to the mountain of the 
 Cedars ! 
 
 To my fellow travellers traditions tinged 
 by the fervid coloring of the oriental fancy, 
 heightened the native power of the spot. 
 On the summits of the trees were said to de- 
 scend at appointed times those ministering 
 spirits whose purpose is to rectify the crimes 
 of man. There stooped on the wing the bear- 
 ers of the sword against the heads of evil 
 monarchs ; there brooded the angel of the 
 tempests; there the invisible ruler of the 
 pestilence blew with his breath, and nations 
 sickened ; there in night and in the interval 
 of storms was heard the trumpet that, before 
 kings dreamed of quarrel, announced the 
 collision of guilty empires for their mutual 
 ruin. 
 
 The violation of the grove was supposed 
 to be visited with the most inexorable calam- 
 ity; the hand that cut down a tree for any 
 ordinary use withered from the body; all 
 
 dissolved away, his cattle perished, his chil- 
 dren died in their prime ; if life was suffered 
 to linger in himself, it was only to perpetuate 
 the warning of the punishment. But there 
 were gentler distinctions mingled with those 
 stern attributes. Above the hill was the 
 pagan entrance to the skies. Once in the 
 year the celestial gate rolled back on its 
 golden hinges with sound surpassing mortal 
 music ; the heavens dropt balm ; the prayer 
 offered on that night reached at once the 
 supreme throne; the tear was treasured in 
 the volume of light: and the worshipper who 
 died before the envious coming of the morn, 
 ascended to a felicity, earned by others only 
 through the tardy trial of the grave. The 
 river which ran round the mountain’s foot, 
 bore its share of virtue ; its water, unpolluted 
 by the decay of autumn, or the turbidness 
 of winter, showed the preservative power 
 of a superior being; it was entitled the 
 Holy Stream; and sealed vessels of it were 
 sent even to India and Italy, presents of 
 health and sanctity to kings, and worthy of 
 kings. 
 
 As we entered the last defile, the minstrels 
 and singers of the caravan commenced a 
 psean. Altars fumed from various points of 
 the chasm above ; and the Syrian priests were 
 seen in their robes performing the empty rites 
 of idolatry. I turned away from this perver- 
 sion of human reason, and pressed forward 
 through the lingering multitude, until the 
 forest rose in its majesty before me. 
 
 My step was checked in solemn admira- 
 tion. I saw the earliest produce of the earth 
 — the patriarchs of the vegetable world. The 
 first generation of the reviving globe had sat 
 beneath these green and lovely arches ; the 
 final generation was to sit beneath them. 
 No roof so noble ever rose above the heads 
 of monarchs, though it were covered with 
 gold and diamonds. 
 
 Thp forest had been greatly impaired in its 
 extent and beauty by the sacrilegious hand 
 of war. The perpetual conflicts of the Sy- 
 rian and Egyptian dynasties laid the axe to it 
 with remorseless violation. It once spread 
 over the whole range of the mountains; its 
 diminished strength now, like the relics of a 
 mighty army, made its stand among the cen- 
 tral fortresses of its native region : and there 
 majestically bade defiance to the farther as- 
 sault of steel and fire. The forms of the 
 trees seemed made for duration ; the trunks 
 were of prodigious thickness, smooth and 
 round as pillars of marble; some rising to a 
 srreat height, and throwung out a vast level 
 roof " of foliage; some dividing into a cluster 
 of trunks, and with their various heights of 
 branch and leaf, making a succession of ver- 
 durous caves; some propagating themselves 
 by circles of young cedars, risen where the 
 
 misfortune fell upon the man; his wealth| (fruit had dropped upon the ground : the whole 
 
36 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 bore the aspect of a colossal temple of nature 
 • — the shafted column, the deep arch, the 
 solid buttresses branching off into the richest 
 caprices of oriental architecture, the solemn 
 roof high above, pale, yet painted by the 
 strong sunlight through the leaves with trans- 
 parent and tesselated dyes rich as the colors 
 of the Indian mine. 
 
 In the momentary feeling of awe and won- 
 der, I could comprehend why paganism loved 
 to worship under the shade of forests ; and 
 why the poets of paganism filled that shade 
 with the attributes and presence of deities. 
 The airy whisperings, the loneliness, the rich 
 twilight, were the very food of mystery. 
 Even the^forms that towered before the eye ; 
 those ancient trees, the survivors of the gene- 
 ral law of mortality, gigantic, hoary, covered 
 with their weedy robes, bowing their aged 
 heads in the blast, and uttering strange 
 sounds and groanings in the struggle, gave 
 to the high-wrought superstition of the soul 
 the images of things unearthly ; the oracle 
 and the God ! Or was this impression but the 
 obscure revival of one of those lovely truths 
 that shone upon the days of Paradise, when 
 man drew knowledge from its fount in Na- 
 ture; and all but his own passions was dis- 
 closed to the first born of creation. 
 
 The caravan encamped in the bottom of 
 the valley, and the grove was soon crowded 
 with worshippers, in whose homage I could 
 take no share. Fires were lighted on the 
 large stones, which had for ages served the 
 purpose of altars; and the names of the Sy- 
 rian idols were shouted and sung in the fierce 
 exultation of a worship but slightly purified 
 from its original barbarism. As the night 
 fell, I withdrew to the entrance of the defile, 
 and gave a last glance at Lebanon. In the 
 grove filled with fires, and echoing with wild 
 music and dances of riot, 1 saw the emblem 
 of my fallen country: the holiness, old as the 
 oldest memory of nations, profaned ; yet the 
 existence preserved, and still to be preserved ; 
 Israel once throned upon its mountains, now 
 diminished of its beauty; to be yet more 
 diminished ; but to live, when all else perish- 
 ed ; to be restored, and to cover its native hills 
 again with glory. I buried my face in my robe, 
 and throwing myself down by the skirt of one 
 of the tents, gave way to meditations sweet 
 and bitter. They passed into my sleep, and I 
 was once more in the bosom of my family. 
 
 I heard my name pronounced; I listened; 
 the name of my wife followed. I looked to 
 the sky, to the forest, to convince me that 
 this was no mockery of the diseased mind. I 
 was fully awake. I lifted up the corner of 
 the te-nt. Savage figures were sitting over 
 their cups, inflamed into quarrel ; and in the 
 midst of high words and execrations I heard 
 their story. They were robbers from Mount 
 Amanus ; come, equally to purify their hands j 
 
 by offering sacrifice at Lebanon, and to re- 
 compense themselves for their losttime by rob- 
 bing on the way home. The quarrel had arisen 
 from the proposal of one of them to extend 
 ; their expedition into Judea, a proposal which 
 he sustained by mentioning the success of his 
 previous enterprises. My name was again 
 sent from mouth to mouth, and I found that 
 it was inscribed on some jewel which formed 
 a part of his plunder. The thought struck 
 me that this might afford a clue. I burst into 
 '< the tent, and demanded my wife and child- 
 ren. The ruffians started as if they were in 
 the presence of a spectre. “ Where,” I re- 
 peated, “ are my family 1 I am Salathiel!” 
 “ Safe enough,” said the foremost. “ Are 
 they alive 1” 1 cried; “lead me where they 
 are, and you shall have what ransom you 
 desire.” The ruffian laughed. “Why, as 
 for ransom, all the money has been made by 
 them that is likely to be made for some time ; 
 unless the Greek that bought them repents 
 of his bargain.” The speech was received 
 with loud laughter. I grew furious. “Vil- 
 lains, you have murdered them. Tell me 
 the whole, show me where they lie; or I 
 will deliver you up to the chief of the cara- 
 van as robbers and murderers.” They were 
 appalled; with a single stride I was at the 
 throat of the leading ruffian, and seized the 
 jewel ; it was my bridal present to Miriam ! 
 My hand trembled, my eves grew dim at the 
 glance. In the next moment I found myself 
 pinioned, a gag forced into my mouth, a 
 cloak flung over me, and I was left to listen 
 to the discussion, whether I was to be stabbed 
 on the spot, left to die of famine, or have my 
 tongue cut out, and thus, unfitted for telling 
 secrets, be turned to gain, and sold for a slave. 
 
 But my preservation was not distant. The 
 quarrel of the banditti increased with their 
 wine; blows were given; the solitary lamp 
 was thrown down in the conflict ; it caught 
 I some combustible matter; the tent was in a 
 blaze. By a violent exertion T loosened the 
 cords from my arms, and in the confusion 
 fled unseen. The fire spread ; and my last 
 glance at the valley showed the encampment 
 turned into a sea of fire. 
 
 Alone, in pain, and exhausted with deadly 
 jfatigue, I yet had but one thought, that of 
 seeking my family through the world. I 
 wandered on, through the vast range of wild 
 country that guards Syria on the side of the 
 desert. I was parched by the burning noon, 
 I was frozen by the keen winds of night, I 
 hungered and thirsted ; yet the determina- 
 tion was strong as dpath, and I persevered. 
 
 I at length reached the foot of Mount Ama- 
 nns, traversed the chain, saw from it the 
 interminable plains of Asia Minor, the desert 
 of Aleppo, the shores of Tripoli; and was 
 then left only to choose in which I should 
 | again commence my hopeless pilgrimage. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 37 
 
 There is something in great distress of i 
 mind, that throws a strange protection round 
 the sufferer. I passed the Roman guards 
 unquestioned — the robber left me without 
 inquiring whether I was worth his dagger. 
 The wolves driven down by famine, and de-j 
 vouring all else that had life, neglected the 
 banquet that I might have supplied. Yet I 
 shrank from none of the evils, but marched 
 on through garrison, cave and forest. But 
 one evening the sky was loaded with a tem- 
 pest that drove even me to seek for shelter. 1 
 found it in one of the promontories that so 
 often scare the mariner’s eye on the iron 
 bound shore of Cilicia. 
 
 Fatigue soon threw me into a heavy slum- 
 ber. But the weight of the tempest towards 
 midnight roused me, and from the mouth of i 
 the cave I gazed on the lightnings, that, red 
 with resistless rage, disclosed at every ex- 
 plosion immense tracts of sea rolling in foam- 
 ing ridges before the gale. In the intervals 
 of the gusts I heard to my surprise the mur- 
 mur of many voices, apparently in prayer, 
 close beside me. But all my interest was 
 suddenly fixed on the sea, by the sight of a 
 large war-galley running before the wind. 
 She had neither sail nor oar. Her masts 
 were gone by the board ; and, but for the 
 crowd of people on her deck, whose distracted 
 attitudes I could clearly see by flashes, she 
 looked a floating tomb. 
 
 To summon whatever assistance might be 
 at hand, I cried aloud ; to warn the galley of 
 the hazardsof the shore, I gathered the brush- 
 wood at the mouth of the cavern, and set it 
 on fire. A shout from the crew told me that 
 my signal was understood ; and I rushed 
 down the bed of a stream that fretted its way 
 through the precipice. Before I reached the 
 shore, I saw various fires blazing above, and 
 many figures hurrying down on a purpose 
 like my own. We had not arrived too soon. 
 The galley, after desperate efforts to keep the 
 sea, had run for an inlet of the rock, and was 
 embayed ; surge on surge, each higher than 
 the one before, rolled over the ill-fated vessel, 
 and each swept some portion of her crew into 
 the deep. We rushed into the waves, and 
 had succeeded in drawing many to shore ; 
 when a broader burst, the concentrated force 
 of the tempest, thundered on the galley ; she 
 was broken into splinters. Stunned and half 
 suffocated with the surge, I grasped, in the 
 mere instinct of self-preservation, at whatever 
 was nearest; and through infinite hazard 
 reached the shore with a body in my arms. 
 Need I tell the keen succession of terror, 
 anxiety, hope and joy, when I found that this; 
 being whom I saw lifeless, and at length 
 breathing, moving, pronouncing my name, 
 falling on my neck, was Miriam ! 
 
 My daughters, too, were rescued. The 
 nearness of the shore saved the crew, who, 
 
 ! until they saw the beacon on the rocks, had 
 j given themselves up to despair. The chance 
 of help led them to steer close in land, and I 
 was congratulated as the general preserver. 
 Miriam’s story was brief. Our dwelling had 
 been surrounded by a troop of robbers. The 
 household were surprised in their sleep. Re- 
 sistance was vain, the rest was plunder and 
 captivity. The robbers, fearful of pursuit, 
 took the road to the mountains at full speed. 
 My wife and daughters were treated with 
 unusual care, lest their beauty should be in- 
 jured, and thus their value in the slave-mar- 
 ket of Tripoli be impaired. As the robber 
 told me, they had been purchased by a Greek 
 merchant of Cyprus, and by him conveyed to 
 his island, to be sold to some more opulent 
 master. There they were redeemed by an 
 act of equal generosity and valor, and were 
 returning to Judea when the storm overtook 
 them. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 When the first tumult of our spirits was 
 past, I had leisure to see what changes the 
 interval had made in faces so loved. Miri- 
 am’s betrayed the hours of distress and pain 
 that she must have passed ; but her noble 
 style of beauty, the emanation of a noble 
 mind, was as conspicuous as ever. I even 
 thought when her large eye fell on me from 
 time to time, that it shone with a loftier in- 
 telligence, as if misfortune had raised its vi- 
 sion above the things of our trivial world. 
 My daughters’ forms had matured ; but Sa- 
 lome, the elder, wore a portion of her mother’s 
 look; her laughing glance still beamed, yet 
 she was often lost in meditation ; and the 
 rapid changes of her cheek, from the deepest 
 crimson to the paleness of snow, alarmed me 
 with menaces of early decay. Esther too 
 had undergone her revolution. But it was 
 of the brightest texture. The seas, the skies, 
 the mountains of Greece, filled her glowing 
 spirit with images of new life. She had lis- 
 tened with boundless delight to the traditions 
 of that most brilliant of all people ; the works 
 of the pencil and the chisel had met her eye 
 in a profuseness and perfection that she had 
 never contemplated before ; her harp echoed 
 to names of romantic valor and proud patriot- 
 ism, and as I gazed on her in those hours, 
 when, in the feeling that she was unobserved, 
 she gave way to the rich impulses of her soul, 
 I thought alternately of the prophetess and 
 of 'he muse. 
 
 The shipwreck converted this solitary 
 shore into a little village; the sailors collect- 
 ed the fragments of the vessel and formed 
 them into huts; the caves that ran along the 
 level of the sands, supplied habitations of 
 themselves ; and by the assistance of those 
 dwellers on the precipice who had so unex» 
 
38 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 pectedly started to light, the first difficulties 
 of a wild coast were sufficiently combated. 
 The bustling activity of the Greek mariners, 
 and the adroitness with which they availed 
 themselves of all contrivances for passing the 
 heavy hour, their sleights of hand, sports and 
 dances, their recitations of popular poems, 
 and their boat songs, kept the spot in contin- 
 ual animation. This was my first opportunity 
 of contact with the actual people, and 1 ac- 
 knowledged their right to have been distin- 
 guished among the most showy disturbers of 
 mankind. The evil of the character, too, 
 was displayed without much trouble of dis- 
 guise. They habitually gamed, till they had 
 no better stake than the fragments of their 
 own clothing ; but they would game for a 
 shell, for a stone that they picked up on the 
 sands, for any thing. They quarrelled with 
 as perfect facility as they gamed : the knife 
 was out quick as lightning ; but to do them 
 justice, tiieir wrath was as brief. The com- 
 batants embraced at a word, danced, kissed, 
 and wept; then drank, gamed, quarrelled, 
 and were sworn brothers again. But this 
 was Greece in its lowest rank. Constantius, 
 the commander of the galley, was a specimen 
 of the land which produced a Plato and a Pe- 
 ricles. When I first saw him led by Miriam, 
 as the generous champion who had restored 
 her and her children to happiness, I saw vir- 
 tue and manliness of the highest order in his 
 features. He was still in his prime; but a 
 scar across his forehead, and the severities of 
 martial life, gave early seriousness to his 
 countenance. But his conversation had the 
 full spirit of the spring-time of life. It was 
 incomparably rich, various, and animated; 
 altogether free from professional pedantry, it 
 had the interest that belongs to professional 
 feelings. Military adventure, striking traits 
 of warlike intelligence, the composition of 
 the fleets and armies of the various states 
 that fought under the wing of the Roman 
 eagle, with their old valor invigorated by 
 their new discipline, were topics on which his 
 fire was exhaustless. On those I listened to 
 him with the strong sympathy of one to 
 whom war must henceforth be the grand pur- 
 suit ; war for national freedom, war purified 
 of its evil by the most illustrious cause that 
 ever summoned the sword. 
 
 He had conversation for us all. His inter- 
 course with the ruling lands of the earth 
 gave him a copious store of recollections, pic- 
 turesque, superb, and strange. E-ther com- 
 bated and questioned the traveller. Salome 
 listened to the warrior — listened, and loved. 
 He had higher topics of which I was yet to 
 hear. In the inhabitants of the precipice he 
 found a little colony of his countrymen, fugi- 
 tive Christians, driven out by persecution to 
 make their home in the wilderness of nature. 
 The long range of caverns which perforated 
 
 the rock gave them a roof. The fertility of 
 the soil, and the occasional visit of a bark 
 sent by their concealed friends, supplied the 
 necessaries and some of the conveniences of 
 life, and there they awaited the close of that 
 ferocious tyranny which at length roused the 
 world against Nero; or awaited the close of 
 all suffering in the grave. 
 
 A succession of storms rendered travelling 
 impossible, and detained us among those her- 
 mits for some days. I found them intelli- 
 gent, and, in general, men of the higher 
 ranks of knowledge and condition. Some 
 were of celebrated families, and had left be- 
 hind them opulence and authority. A few 
 were peasants. But misfortune, and, still 
 more, principle, extinguished all that was 
 abrupt in the inequality of ranks, without 
 leaving license in its stead. Jew as I was, 
 j and steadily bound to the customs of my 
 'country, I yet did honor to the patience, the 
 humility, and the devotedness, of those exiled 
 men. I even once attended their worship on 
 the first day of the week ; assured that the 
 abomination of idols was not to be found 
 there, and that I should hear nothing insult- 
 ing to the name of Israel. 
 
 The ceremonial was simple. Those who 
 had witnessed the heaven-commanded mag- 
 nificence of the Temple, might smile at the 
 | barrenness of the walls of rock, figured only 
 with the wild herbage ; or those who had 
 borne to see the extravagant and complicated 
 rites of paganism, might scorn the few and 
 obvious forms of the homage. But there was 
 the spirit of strong prayer — the breathing of 
 the heart, the unanswerable sincerity. Every 
 violence of the mere animal frame was un- 
 known. I saw no pagan convulsion — no 
 fierceness of outcry and gesture — not even 
 the vehement solemnity of the Jew. All 
 was calm ; tears stole down, but they stole in 
 silence; knees were bowed, but there was no 
 prostration ; prayers, fervent and lofty, were 
 poured forth, but it was in accents uttered 
 less from the lip than from the soul, appeals 
 of hallowed confidence to a Being that was 
 sure to hear; the voice of children to a Fa- 
 ther and a God, who, wherever two or three 
 were gathered together, was in the midst of 
 them. 
 
 At length the storms cleared away, and the 
 sky wore the native azure of the climate. A 
 messenger despatched to Cyprus, returned 
 with a vessel for the embarkation of the 
 Greeks. Camels and mules were procured 
 from the neighboring country for our journey, 
 and the morning was fixed on which we 
 were to separate. Yet with so much reason 
 for joy, few resolutions could have been re- 
 i ceived with less favor. Constantius almost 
 shunned society, or shared in it with a silence 
 and depression that made his philosophy more 
 than questionable. Miriam was engaged in 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 39 
 
 long conferences with Salome, from which 
 they both came sad. Esther was thus my 
 chief companion, and she talked of the shore, 
 the sea, and even of the tempests, with height- 
 ened interest. The Greeks, sailor and sol- 
 dier alike, loved too well- the romantic ease 
 and careless adventure of the place, to look 
 with complacency on the little vessel in which 
 they were to be borne once more into the land 
 of restraint. The fugitive colony were not 
 the slowest in their regrets. They had been 
 deeply prepared for human vicissitude, and 
 had humbled themselves to all things ; yet, 
 such is the strong and natural connection of 
 man with man, they lamented the solitude to 
 which they must again be left, like the com- 
 mencement of a new exile. 
 
 There are few things more singular than 
 the blindness which, in matters of the highest 
 importance to ourselves, often hides the truth 
 that is plain as noon to all other eyes. The 
 cause which deprived Constantius of his elo- 
 quence, and Salome of her animation, was 
 obvious to every one but me. Nor was the 
 mystery yet to be disclosed to my tardy know- 
 ledge. 
 
 I had strayed through the cliffs, as was my 
 custom after the heat of the day, and was 
 taking a last look of the sea from one of the 
 thickets on the e^ge of the precipice. The 
 sands far below me were covered with prepa- 
 ration for the voyage, which, like our journey, 
 was to commence with the rising sun. The 
 little vessel lay, a glittering toy, at anchor, 
 with her thread-like streamers playing in the 
 breeze. The sailors were fishing, preparing 
 their evening meal, heaving water and provi- 
 sions down the rocks, or enjoying themselves 
 over flagons of Syrian wine round their fires ; 
 all was the activity of a sea-port ; but, from 
 the height on which I lay, all was but the 
 activity of a mole-hill. “ And is it of such 
 materials,” mused I, “ that ambition is made! 
 is it to command, to be gazed on, to be shout- 
 ed after by such mites and atoms as those, 
 that life is exhausted in watching and weari- 
 ness ; that our true enjoyments are sacrificed ; 
 that the present and the future are equally 
 cast from us; that the hand is dipped in 
 blood, and the earth desolated ? What must 
 Alexander’s triumph have looked to one who 
 saw it from the towers of Babylon 1 a triumph 
 of emmets!” I smiled at the moral of three 
 hundred feet of precipice. 
 
 A step in the thicket put philosophy to 
 flight. My wife stood before me ; and never 
 saw I even her beauty more beautiful. The 
 exertion of the ascent had colored her cheek ; 
 the breeze had scattered her raven locks 
 across a forehead of the purest white ; her lip 
 wore the smile so long absent ; and there was 
 altogether an air of hope and joy in her coun- 
 tenance that made me instinctively ask of 
 what good news she was the bearer. With- 
 
 ! out a word she sat down beside me, and 
 pressed my hands between her’s; she fixed 
 her eyes on mine, tried to speak, and, failing, 
 fell on my neck and burst into tears. Alarm- 
 ed at her sobs, and the wild beating of her 
 heart, I was about to rise for assistance, when 
 she detained me, and the smile returned; she 
 bared her forehead to the breeze, and, recover- 
 ing, disburdened her soul. 
 
 “ How many billows,” said she, gazing on 
 the sea, “will roll between that little bark 
 and this shore to-morrow ! There is always 
 [Something melancholy in parting. Yet, if 
 , that vessel could feel, with what delight 
 would she not wing her way to Cyprus, love- 
 ly Cyprus?” 
 
 I was surprised ! “ Miriam, this from you? 
 
 ! Can you regret the place of paganism — the 
 land of your captivity !” 
 
 “ No,” was the answer, with a look of lofty 
 truth : “I abhorred the guilty profanations of 
 the pagan ; and who can love the dungeon 1 
 Even were Cyprus a paradise, I should have 
 felt unhappy in the separation of iny country 
 and from you. Yet those alone who have 
 seen the matchless loveliness of the island — 
 the perpetual animation of life in a climate, 
 and in the midst of scenes made for happiness 
 — can know the sacrifice that must be made 
 by its people in leaving it, and leaving it 
 perhaps forever.” 
 
 j “ The crew of that galley are not to be 
 tried by long exile. In two days, at farthest, 
 they will anchor in their own harbors.” 
 
 “ And how deeply must the sacrifice be, 
 enhanced by the abandonment of rank, wealth, 
 professional honors ! and this^is the sacrifice on 
 which I have been sent to consult my hus- 
 band.” 
 
 I was totally at a loss to conceive of whom 
 she spoke. 
 
 “ Our friend — our deliverer from captivity 
 or death — the generous being, who through 
 infinite hazards, restored your wife and child- 
 ren to happiness and home — ” 
 j “ Constantius ! impossible. At the very 
 age of ambition, with his talents, his know- 
 ledge of life, his prospects of the highest dis- 
 tinction ? — ” 
 
 “Constantius will never return to Cyprus 
 in that galley — will never draw sword for 
 ; Rome again — will never quit the land given 
 by Heaven to our fathers ; if such be the will 
 of Salathiel.” 
 
 , “ Strange. But his motives? he is supe- 
 
 rior to the fickleness that abandons an honor- 
 able course of life through the pure love of 
 novelty : or is he weary of the absurdities of 
 paganism ?” 
 
 “ Thoroughly weary — more than weary , 
 he has abjured them forever and ever.” 
 
 “ You rejoice me. But it was to be ex- 
 pected from his manly mind. You have 
 I brought an illustrious convert, my beloved ; 
 
40 
 
 Sa la (hi el. 
 
 and if your captivity has done this, it was the 
 will of Heaven. Constantins shall be led 
 with distinction to the temple, and be one of 
 ourselves. Judea may yet require such men. 
 Our holy religion may exult in such conquests 
 from the darkness of the idolatrous world.” 
 
 The voice of the hermits at their evening 
 prayer now arose, and held us in silence, 
 which neither seemed inclined to break. 
 Many thoughts pressed on my mind ; the ad- 
 dition to our circle of a man whom I honored 
 and esteemed ; the accession of a practised 
 soldier to our cause ; the near approach of 
 the hour of conflict; the precarious fate of 
 those I loved, in the great convulsion which 
 was to rend away the Roman yoke, or leave 
 Judea a tomb. I accidentally looked up, and 
 saw that Miriam had been as abstracted as 
 myself. But war and policy were not in the 
 contemplations of the beaming countenance; 
 nor their words on the lips that quivered and 
 crimsoned before me. Her eyes were fixed 
 on the sky, and she was in evident prayer, 
 which I desired not to disturb. She at length 
 caught my glance, and blushed like one de- 
 tected ; but quickly recovering — said, in a 
 tone never to be forgotten, “ My husband ! 
 my lord ! my love ! would that I dared open 
 my whole spirit to you ! would that you could 
 read for yourself the truths written in my 
 heart !” 
 
 “ M iriam !” 
 
 “ This is no reproach. But I know your 
 strength of opinion — your passion for all that 
 concerns the glory of Israel ; — your right, the 
 right of talents and character to the foremost 
 rank among the oriesthood ; and those things 
 repel me.” 
 
 “Speak out at once. We can have no 
 concealments, Miriam ; candor, candor in all 
 things.” 
 
 “ You have heard the prayers of those ex- 
 iles; you acknowledge their acquirements 
 and understandings ; they have sacrificed 
 much, every thing — friends, country, the 
 world. Can such men have been imposed on 1 
 can they have imposed on themselves 1 Is it 
 possible that their sacrifices could have been 
 made for a fiction 1” 
 
 “ The question is difficult. We are strange- 
 ly the slaves of habit and impulse. Men every 
 day abandon the most obvious good for the most 
 palpable follies. Enthusiasm is a minor mad- 
 ness.” 
 
 “ But are those exiles enthusiasts ! They 
 are grave men, experienced in life ; their lan- 
 guage is totally pure from extravagance ; they 
 reason with singular clearness ; they live with 
 the most striking command over the habits of 
 their original condition. Greeks, you see no 
 haste of temper, no violence of language 
 among them. Once idolaters, they shrink from 
 the thought of idols. Now fugitive and perse- 
 cuted, they pray for their persecutors ; shar- 
 
 ing the lair of wild beasts, and driven out from 
 all that they knew and loved, they utter no 
 complaint — they even rejoice in their calam- 
 ity, and offer up praises to the mercy that shut 
 the gates of earth upon their steps, only to open 
 the gates of heaven.” 
 
 “I am no persecutor, Miriam. Nay, I honor 
 the self-denial, as I doubt not the sincerity of 
 those men. But if they have thrown off a por- 
 tion of their early blindness, why not desire the 
 full illumination] Why linger half way be- 
 tween falsehood and truth! It is not, as you 
 know, our custom to solicit proselytes. But 
 such men might be not unworthy of the hope 
 of Israel.” 
 
 “ It is to the hope of Israel that they have 
 come, that they cling, that they look up for a 
 recompense; a glorious recompense for their 
 sufferings.” 
 
 “ Let them then join us at sunrise, and 
 come to our holy city.” 
 
 “ Salathiel, the time is declared, when men 
 shall worship not in that mountain alone, but 
 through all lands; when the yoke of our law 
 shall be lightened, and the weary shall have 
 rest; when the altar shall pass away, as the 
 illustrious victim has passed ; and the wisdom 
 of Heaven shall be the possession of all man- 
 kind.” 
 
 I looked at her in astonishment. “ Miriam, 
 this from you ! from a daughter of the blood 
 of Aaron ! from the wife of a servant of the 
 temple! have you become a Christian!” 
 
 “ I have done nothing in presumption. I 
 have prayed to the Source of light that he 
 would enlighten my understanding; I have 
 night and day examined the law and the pro- 
 phets. Bear with my weakness, Salathiel, 
 if it be proved weakness. But if it be wis- 
 dom, knowledge, and truth, I implore you by 
 our love, by the higher interests of your own 
 soul, to follow my example.” 
 
 It was impossible to answer harshly to a 
 remonstrance expressed with the overflowing 
 fondness of the heart: I could only remind 
 her of the unchangeable promises made to 
 Judaism. 
 
 “ But it is of those promises I speak,” urged 
 she; “ we have seen the day that our father 
 Abraham longed to see; that mighty Being, 
 the Lord of Eternity, the express image of 
 the fflory of the Invisible, the hope of the pat- 
 riarch, the promise of the prophet, has come.” 
 
 “Yet Israel is divided and enslaved, torn 
 by capricious tyranny, and hurrying to the 
 common convulsions and common ruin of 
 doomed nations. Is this the triumphant king- 
 dom of prophecy !” 
 
 “ I have doubted, like you ; but I have been 
 at length convinced out of the mouths of the 
 prophets themselves. Have they not de- 
 clared that Israel should suffer before it tri- 
 jumphed, and suffer too for a period that 
 ■ strikes the mind with terror! that the King 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 41 
 
 of Israel should be excluded from his king- 
 dom, — nay, take upon him the form of a ser- j 
 vant, — nay, die, and die by a death of pain 
 and shame, the death of a slave and criminal 1” 
 
 “It is so written. But it is beyond our 
 power to reconcile.” 
 
 “Pray then tor the power, and it will be 
 given to you. Ask for the spirit of holy in- 
 telligence, and it will enlighten you. Pride 
 is the crime of our nation. Humility, the | 
 righteous resolution to follow truth, and leave' 
 prejudice to its fate, would take the film from 
 the eyes of our people. Salathiel, my lord,! 
 the being treasured in my heart. Read the! 
 Scriptures. I have prayed for you. Read ” 
 
 “ But how can the promise of the kingdom ; 
 be resisted? it fills the whole volume of pro- 
 phecy. It is the theme first, last, and with- 
 out end, of all the inspired masters of Israel. 
 What splendor and reality of history was ever 
 more vivid and real than the glorious prom- 
 ises of Isaiah ?” 
 
 “But what force and minuteness of pictur- 
 ing ever excelled Isaiah’s description of the 
 loveliness, the obscurity, the rejection, the 
 agonies, and the death of the Messiah? Why 
 shall we suppose that the one description is 
 true, and the other false? Has not the same 
 inspiration given both ? Why shall we con- 
 ceive that the Messiah and his kingdom must 
 appear together? We see the time of his 
 first coming defined to a year by our great! 
 prophet Daniel. But where do we see the 
 time of the triumphant kingdom defined ? 
 Why may it not follow at a distance of ages? 
 We know that we shall stand at the latter 
 day upon the earth, and in our flesh shall see 
 God. Why shall not the triumph be reserved 
 for that day of glory ? Are our people now 
 fit to be a nation of kings? Or are the best 
 of us, in our present imperfection, in the 
 mortal feebleness of our nature, fit to share in 
 a triumph in which angels are to minister? 
 fit dwellers of a city from which error and 
 evil are to be excluded ; in which there is to 
 be no tear, no human suffering, no remem- 
 bered bitterness; ‘a city whose builder and 
 maker is God within whose w'alls live holi- 
 ness, power, sublime intelligence, and imper- 
 ishable virtue ; on whose throne sits in light 
 the Omnipotent !” 
 
 Sensations to which I dared not give utter- 
 ance oppressed me : my crime, my fate, rose 
 up before the mental eye. I had no answer 
 to this admirable woman. Her pure and 
 fervid zeal ; her love, and holiness of heart, 
 touched every chord in mine. But the veil 
 was dark upon my mind. Let no man blame 
 the stubbornness of the Jew, till he has 
 weighed the influence of feeling's born with 
 a people, strengthened by their history, rein- 
 forced by miracle, and authenticated by the ! 
 words of inspiration. That Judaism was' 
 purity itself to the worship and morals of the 1 
 
 pagan world ; that it was the continued ob- 
 j ject of a particular Providence ; that it alone 
 ! possessed the revelations of God ; were facta 
 that defied doubt. And that those high dis- 
 tinctions should be made void, and the slavish 
 and profligate mind of paganism be admitted 
 into our privileges ; still more, that it should 
 be admitted, to the exclusion of the chosen 
 line, seemed to me a conclusion that no rea- 
 soning could substantiate, a fantastic and 
 airy fiction, to which no reasoning could be 
 applied. 
 
 The moon ascended in calm glory; and 
 her orb, slightly tinged by the many-colored 
 ; clouds that lay upon the horizon, threw a 
 faint silver upon the precipice. The sounds 
 below were hushed ; the moving figures, the 
 vessel, the sea, the cliffs, were totally veiled 
 in purple mist. We could not have been 
 more alone if we were seated on a cloud; 
 and the beauty, the exalted gesture, and the 
 glowing wisdom of the being before me, were 
 like those that we conceive of spirits delega- 
 ted to lead the disembodied mind upwards 
 from world to world. 
 
 A sea bird, winging its way above our 
 heads, broke the reverie : I reminded my 
 teacher that it grew late, and our absence 
 might produce anxiety. 
 
 “ Salathiel,” said she, with mingled fervor 
 and softness, — “ you know I love you ; never 
 was heart more fondly bound to another than 
 mine is to you. 1 am grateful for your per- 
 mission to receive Constantins into our tribe. 
 But one obligation, infinitely dearer, you can 
 confer on me, — read this scroll.” She drew 
 from her bosom a letter, written to his church 
 by one of the Christian leaders in Asia. “ I 
 desire not to offend your convictions, nor" to 
 hasten you into a rash adoption of those of 
 others. But in this scroll you will find phi- 
 losophy without its pride, and knowledge 
 without its guile; you will find more, the 
 disclosure of those mysteries which have so 
 long perplexed our people: read; and may 
 He who can bring wisdom out of the lips of 
 babes, and make the wisdom of the wise fool- 
 ishness, shed his light upon the generous 
 heart of my husband !” 
 
 At another time I might have started in 
 horror from this avowal of her faith. But the 
 scene, the circumstances, an unaccountable 
 internal impression — a voice of the soul, pro- 
 hibited me. I took her trend ling hand, and, 
 without a word, led her down to our dwelling. 
 
 • 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 No tidings sooner make themselves known 
 than those of the heart. We found our daugh- 
 ters waiting anxiously at the entrance of the 
 cave, which had been fitted up for our tem- 
 
42 
 
 SalathieL 
 
 porary shelter. Before a word could be ex- 
 changed, a glance from Miriam told the suc- 
 cess of her mission ; and sorrow was turned 
 into delight. Esther danced around me, and 
 was eloquent in her gratitude. Salome shed 
 silent tears ; and when I attempted to wipe 
 them away, fell fainting into my arms. We 
 spent a part of the night in the open air : the 
 last wine and fruits of our store were brought 
 out : the Cypriot exiles came down from their 
 rocks : the crew of the galley, already on 
 board, danced, sang, and drank to the success 
 of the voyage ; and it was not till the moon, 
 our only lamp, was about to be extinguished 
 in the waters, that we thought of closing our 
 final night on the Syrian shore. 
 
 We travelled along the coast as far as 
 Bcrytus; then turning to the eastward, crossed 
 the Libanus, and the mountain country that 
 branches into Upper Galilee. Our coming 
 had been long announced ; and we found 
 Eleazar, Jubal, and our chief kinsmen, wait- 
 ing at one of the passes to lead us home in 
 triumph. The joy of our tribe was honest, if 
 it was tumultuous; and many a shout dis- 
 turbed the solitude as we moved along. 
 
 My impatience increased, when we reach- 
 ed the well known hills that sheltered what 
 was once my home. Yet 1 remembered too 
 keenly the shock of seeing its desolation not 
 to dread the first sight of the spot ; and rode 
 away from the group at full speed, that my 
 nervousness might have time to subside be- 
 fore their arrival. But at the foot of the last 
 ascent I drew the reign. Every tree, every 
 bush, almost every stone, had been familiar 
 to me in my wanderings ; and were now pain- 
 ful memorials of the long malady of my mind. 
 
 Eleazar, who watched me during the latter 
 part of the journey, with something of a con- 
 sciousness of my thoughts, put spurs to his 
 horse, and found me standing, pale and pal- 
 pitating. “Come,” said he, “we must not 
 alarm Miriam by thinking too much of the 
 past; let us try if the top of the hill will not 
 give us a better prospect than the bottom.” 
 
 I shrank from the attempt. “ No !” said I, 
 “ the horror that the prospect once gave me 
 must not be renewed. Let us change the 
 route, no matter how far round ; the sight of 
 that ruin would distract me to the last hour 
 of my life.” 
 
 He only smiled in reply ; and catching my 
 bridle galloped forward. A few seconds 
 placed us on the summit of a hill. Could I 
 belief my eyes ! All below was as if rapine 
 never had been there. The gardens, the 
 cattle, the dwellings, lay a fairy picture un- 
 der the eye. “ This is miracle !” I exclaim- 
 ed. “ No ; or it is but the miracle of a little 
 activity, and a great deal of good-will,” was 
 the answer. 
 
 “ Your kinsmen did this at the time when 
 you were slumbering with the wolf and bear 
 
 il in the Libanus; Nature did her part in cover- 
 I ing your fields and gardens ; and those sheep 
 and cattle are a tribute of gratitude from 
 your brother, for the preservation of his life.” 
 
 Our troop now ascended the height. The 
 land lay beneath them in the richness of sum- 
 mer. They were ardent in their expressions 
 of surprise and pleasure. We rushed down 
 the defile, and I was once more master of a 
 home. 
 
 Public events had rapidly ripened in my 
 l absence. Popular wrath was stimulated by 
 increased exaction. Law was more palpably 
 perverted into insolence and injury. Order 
 was giving way on all sides. The Roman 
 garrisons, neglected and ill paid, were adopt- 
 ing the desperate habits of the populace; and 
 in the general scorn of religion and right, 
 the country was becoming a horde of robbers. 
 The ultimate causes of this singular degene- 
 racy might be remote, and set in action by a 
 vengeance above man ; but the immediate 
 were plain to every eye. 
 
 The general principles of Rome, in the 
 government of her conquests, were manly and 
 wise. When the soldier had done his work; 
 and it was done vigorously, yet with but little 
 violence beyond that which was essential for 
 complete subjugation ; the sword slept as an 
 instrument of evil, and awoke only as an in- 
 strument of justice. 
 
 The Roman supremacy extinguished the 
 innumerable and harrassing mischiefs of mi- 
 nor hostility. If neighbor kingdoms quarrell- 
 ed, a legion marched across the border, and 
 brought the belligerents to sudden reason; 
 dismissed their armies to their hearths and 
 altars, and sent the angry chiefs to reconcile 
 their claims in an Italian dungeon. If a dis- 
 puted succession threatened to embroil the 
 general peace, the proconsul ordered the royal 
 competitors to embark for Rome, and there 
 set'le the right before the senate. 
 
 I The barbaric invasions, which had periodi- 
 cally ravaged the Eastern empires, even in 
 their day of power, were repelled with a ter- 
 rible view. The legions left the desert cov- 
 ered with the tribe, for the food of the vul- 
 ture ; and showed to Europe the haughty 
 leaders of the Tartar, Gothic and Arab my- 
 riads in fetters, dragging wains, digging in 
 mines, or sweeping the highways. 
 
 If peace could be an equivalent for free- 
 dom, the equivalent was never so amply se- 
 cured. The world within this iron boundary 
 flourished ; the activity and talent of man 
 were urged to the highest pitch ; the conquer- 
 ed countries were turned from wastes and 
 forests into fertility: ports were dog upon 
 naked shores; cities swelled from villages: 
 population spread over the soil once pestilen- 
 tial and breeding only the poisonous weed 
 and the serpent. The sea was covered with 
 trade ; the pirate and the marauder were un~ 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 43 
 
 heard of, or hunted down. Commercial en- 
 terprise shot its lines and communications 
 over the map of the earth ; and regions were 
 then familiar, which even the activity of the 
 revived ages of Europe had scarcely made 
 known. 
 
 Those were the wonders of great power 
 steadily directed to a great purpose. Gene- 
 ral coercion was the simple principle; and; 
 the only talisman of a Roman Emperor was 
 the chain, but where it was casually commut-j 
 ed for the sword : yet the universality of the 
 compression atoned for half its evil. The| 
 natural impulse of man is to improvement; 
 he requires only security from rapine. The 
 Roman supremacy raised round him an im- 
 pregnable wall. It was the true government 
 for an era when the habits of reason had not 
 penetrated the general human mind. Its 
 chief evil was in its restraint of those nobler 
 and loftier aspirations of genius and the heart, 
 which from time to time raise the general 
 scale of mankind. Nothing is more observa-. 
 ble than the decay of original literature, of 
 the finer architecture, and of philosophical 
 invention, under the empire. Even military 
 genius, the natural product of a system that 
 lived but on military fame, disappeared; the 
 brilliant diversity of warlike talent, that shone 
 on the very verge of the succession of the 
 Caesars, sank, like falling stars, to rise no 
 more. No captain was again to display the 
 splendid conceptions of Pompey’s boundless 
 campaigns; the lavish heroism and inexhaust- 
 ible resource of Anthony ; or the mixture of 
 undaunted personal enterprise and profound 
 tactic, the statesman-like thought, irrestrain- 
 able ambition, and high-minded forgiveness, 
 that made Caesar that very emblem of Rome. 
 But the Imperial power had the operation of 
 one of those great laws of nature, which 
 through partial evil sustain the earth — a gra- 
 vitating principle, which, if it checked the 
 ascent of some gifted beings beyond the dull 
 level of life, yet kept the infinite multitude 
 of men and things from flying loose beyond 
 all utility and all control. 
 
 Yet it was only for a time. The empire 
 was but the ripening of the republic, a richer, 
 more luxuriant, and more transitory object 
 for the eye of the world ; and the storm was 
 already gathering that was to shake it to the 
 ground. The corruptions of the palace first 
 opened the Imperial ruin. They soon ex- 
 tended through every department of the state. 
 If the habitual fears of the tyrant, in the midst 
 of a head-long populace who had so often aid- 
 ed and exulted in the slaughter of his prede- 
 cessors, could scarcely restrain him in Rome; 
 what must be the excesses of his minions, 
 where no fear was felt ! where complaint was 
 stifled by the dagger ! and where the govern- 
 ment was bought by bribes, to be replaced 
 only by licensed and encouraged rapine ! 
 
 The East was the chief victim. The vast 
 northern and western provinces of the em- 
 pire pressed too closely on Rome ; were too 
 poor, and were too w arlike, to be the favorite 
 objects of Italian rapacity. There a new tax 
 raised an insurrection ; the proconsular de- 
 mand of a loan was answered by a flight, 
 which stript the land ; or by the march of 
 some unheard-of tribe, pouring down from the 
 desert to avenge their countrymen. The 
 character too of the people influenced the 
 choice of their governors. Brave and expe- 
 rienced soldiers, not empty and vicious cour- 
 tiers, must command the armies that were 
 thus liable to be hourly in battle, and on 
 whose discipline depended the slumbers of 
 every pillow in Italy. Stern as is the life 
 of camps, it has its virtues; and men are 
 taught consideration for the feelings, rights, 
 and resentments of man, by a teacher that 
 makes its voice heard through the tumult of 
 battle and the pride of victory. But all was 
 reversed in Asia, remote, rich, habituated to 
 despotism, divided in language, religion, and 
 blood ; with nothing of that fierce, yet gene- 
 rous, clanship, which made the Gaul of the 
 Belgian marshes listen to the trumpet of the 
 Gaul of Narbonne, and the German of Vistula 
 burn with the wrongs of the German of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 Under Nero, Judea was devoured by Ro- 
 man rapine. She had not even the sad con- 
 solation of owing her evils to the rapine of 
 those nobler beasts of prey in human shape 
 that were to be found in the other provinces 
 — she was devoured by locusts. The pollu- 
 ted palace supplied her governors ; a slave 
 lifted into office by a fellow slave ; a pamper- 
 ed profligate exhausted by the expenses of 
 the capital ; a condemned and notorious ex- 
 j tortioner, with no other spot to hide his head ; 
 were the gifts of Nero to my country. Pi- 
 late, Felix, Festus, Albinus, Florus, each 
 more profligate and cruel as our catastrophe 
 approached, tore the very bowels of the land. 
 Of the last two, it was said that Albinus 
 i should have been grateful to Florus for prov- 
 ing that he was not the basest of mankind, 
 by the evidence that a baser existed ; that 
 he had a respect for virtue, by his conde- 
 scending to commit those robberies in pri- 
 vate, which his successor committed in pub- 
 lic; and that he had human feeling, by his 
 abstaining from blood where he could gain 
 nothing by murder : while Florus disdained 
 alike concealment and cause, and slaughtered 
 for the public pleasure of the sword. 
 
 A number of partial insurrections, easily 
 suppressed, displayed the wrath of the peo- 
 ple, and indulged the cruelty of the procura- 
 tor. They indulged also his avarice. De- 
 feat was followed by confiscation ; and Florus 
 even boasted that he desired nothing more 
 prosperous than insurrection in every village 
 
44 
 
 Salathid. 
 
 of Judea. He was about to be gratified, before 
 he had prepared himself for this luxury. 
 
 A menial in my house was detected with 
 letters from an agent of the Roman governor. 
 They required details of my habits and re- 
 sources, which satisfied me that I was become 
 an object of vengeance. From the time of 
 my return, I had seen with bitterness of soul 
 the insults of my country. I had summoned 
 my friends to ascertain what might be our 
 means of resistance, and found them as will- 
 ing and devoted as became men : but our re- 
 sources for more than the first burst of popu- 
 lar wrath, the seizure of some petty Roman 
 garrison, or the capture of a convoy, were 
 nothing. The jealousies of the chief men of 
 the tribes, the terror of Rome, the positions 
 of the Roman troops cutting off military com- 
 munication between the north and south of 
 Judea, made the attempt hopeless; and it 
 was abandoned for the time. Even those let- 
 ters which marked me for a victim made no 
 change in the determination, that if I could 
 not escape danger by individual means, no 
 public blood should be laid to my charge. 
 
 For a few months all was tranquil; the 
 habits of rural life were calculated to keep 
 depressing thoughts at a distance. My wife 
 and daughters returned to their graceful pur- 
 suits, with the added pleasure of novelty, 
 after so long a cessation. I hunted through 
 the hills with Constantius; or, traversing 
 the country which might yet be the scene 
 of events, availed myself of the knowledge 
 of a master of the whole science of Roman 
 war. At home, the works of the great poets 
 of the west, with whom our guest had made 
 us familiar, varied the hours; but 1 found a 
 still more stirring and congenial interest in 
 the histories of Greek valor, and in the study 
 of the mighty minds that made and unmade 
 empires. With the touching and pictur- 
 esque narrative of Herodotus in my hand, I 
 pantingly followed the adventures of the 
 most brilliant of nations. I fought the battle 
 with them against the Persian ; I saw them 
 gathered in little startled groups on the hills, 
 flying in their little galleys from island to 
 island, the land deserted, the sea covered 
 with fugitives, the Persian fleets, loaded with 
 Asiatic pomp, darkening the waters like a 
 thunder-cloud; and in a moment all changed. 
 The millions of Asia scattered, like dust 
 before the wind — Greece lifted to the height 
 of martial glory, and commencing a career 
 of triumph still more illustrious, that triumph 
 of the mind, in which, through the remotest 
 vicissitudes of earth, she was to have no con- 
 queror. With Arrian [ pursued the cam- 
 paigns of that extraordinary man, whose 
 valor, vanby, and fortune, make him one of 
 the landmarks of human nature. In Alex- 
 ander, I delighted in tracing the native form 
 
 of the Greek through the embroidered robea 
 of royalty and triumph. In his romantic in- 
 trepidity and deliberate science; his alterna- 
 tions of profound thought and fantastic folly; 
 the passion for praise, and the contempt for 
 its offerers ; the rash temper, and the noble 
 magnanimity ; the love for the fine arts, and 
 the thirst for that perpetual war before which 
 they fly; the martial and philosophic scorn 
 of privation, and the feeble lapses into self- 
 indulgence; the generous forecast, which 
 peopled deserts and founded cities, and the 
 giddy and fatal neglect which left his diadem 
 to be fought for, and his family to be the prey 
 of rival rebellions; I saw him the man of the 
 republic, the Athenian of the day of popular 
 splendor and folly, with only the difference 
 of the sceptre. 
 
 To me, those studies were like a new door 
 opened into the boundless palace of human 
 nature. I felt that sense of novelty, vigor 
 and fresh life, that the frame feels in breath- 
 ing the morning air over the landscape of a 
 new country. It was a voyage upon an un- 
 known sea, where every headland, and dell, 
 and tree fringing the waters, administers to 
 the delight of curiosity. In this there was 
 nothing of the common pedantry of worn-out 
 studies. My knowledge of life had hitherto 
 been limited by my original destination. A 
 Jew and a priest, there was but one solemn 
 avenue, through which I was to see the 
 glimpses of the external world. The vista 
 was now opened and deepened beyond all 
 limit: visions of conquest, of honor among 
 nations, of praise to the last posterity, cluster- 
 ed round my head. There were times when 
 in this exultation my doom was forgotten. 
 The momentary oblivion may have been per- 
 mitted merely to blunt the edge of incura- 
 ble misfortune. Incessant suffering would 
 have made a double miracle essential to my 
 existence. I was permitted at intervals to 
 recruit the strength, that was to be tried till 
 the end of time. 
 
 I was one day immersed in Polybius, with 
 my master in soldiership at my side, guiding 
 me by his living comment through the won- 
 ders of the Punic campaigns; when Elea- 
 zar entered with a look that implied his com- 
 ing on a matter of importance. Constantius 
 rose to withdraw. “No,” said my brother, 
 “ the subject of my mission is one that should 
 not be concealed from the preserver of our 
 kindred. It may be one of happiness to us 
 all. Salome is arrived at the age and more 
 than the age, when the daughters of Israel 
 marry. She must give way to our general 
 wish, and play the matron at last.” He 
 turned with a smile to Constantius, and asked 
 his assent to the opinion : he received no an- 
 swer. The young Greek had plunged more 
 deeply than ever into the passage of the Alps. 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 45 
 
 “And who is the suitor'?” I inquired. 
 
 “ One worthy of her and you. A generous, 
 bold, warm-hearted kinsman, in the spring 
 of life, sufficiently opulent, for he will proba- 
 bly be my heir, prepared to honour you, and 
 I believe long and deeply attached to her.” 
 
 “ Jubal ! There is not a man in our tribe 
 to whom I would so gladly give her. Let 
 my friend Jubal come. Congratulate me, 
 Constantius ; you shall now at last see fes- 
 tivity in our land, in scorn of the Roman. 
 You have seen us in flight and captivity ; you 
 shall now be witness of some of the happiness 
 that was in Judah before we knew the flap- 
 ping of an Italian banner ; and if fortune 
 smile, shall be, when Rome is like Babylon.” 
 
 Constantius suddenly rose from his vol- 
 umes, and thrusting them within the folds 
 of his tunic, was leaving the apartment. 
 “ No,” said I, “ you must remain ; Miriam 
 and Salome shall be sent for, and in your pre- 
 sence the contract signed.” 
 
 For the first time, I perceived the exces- 
 sive pallidness of his countenance ; and asked, 
 whether I had not trespassed too much on his 
 patience with my studies? 
 
 His only reply was — “ Is there no liberty 
 of choice in the marriages of Israel ? Will 
 you decide without consulting her whom this 
 contract is to render happy or miserable 
 while she lives?” He rushed from the 
 room. 
 
 Miriam came — but alone. Her daughter 
 had wandered out into one of our many gar- 
 dens. She received Eleazar with sisterly 
 fondness ; but her features wore the air of 
 constraint. She heard the mission; but, 
 “ she had no opinion to give in the absence 
 of Salome. She knew too well the happiness 
 of having chosen for herself, to wish to force 
 the consent of her child. Let Salome be 
 consulted.” 
 
 The flourish of music, and the trampling 
 of horses, broke up our reluctant conference. 
 Jubal was already come, with a crowd of his 
 friends. We hastened to receive him at the 
 porch ; and he bounded into the court on his 
 richly caparisoned barb, at the head of a troop 
 in festal habiliments. 
 
 The men of Israel loved pomp of dress, and 
 handsome steeds. The crowd before me 
 might have made a body-guard of a Persian 
 king. Jubal had long looked on my daughter 
 with the admiration due to her singular beau- 
 ty ; it was the custom to wed within our 
 tribe : he was the favorite and the heir of 
 her unclq ; she had never absolutely banish- 
 ed him from her presence ; and in the buoy- 
 ancy of natural spirits, the boldness of a tem- 
 perament born for a soldier, and perhaps in 
 the allowable consciousness of a showy form, 
 he had admitted none of the perplexities of a 
 trembling lover. Salome was at length an- 
 
 4 
 
 noanced, and the proposed husband was left 
 to plead his own cause. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 We received the friends of our intended 
 son with the accustomed hospitality; but to 
 me the tumult of many voices, and even the 
 sight of a crowd, however happy, still excited 
 the old disturbance of a shaken system. 
 
 1 left my guest to the care of Eleazar ; and 
 galloped into the fields to gather composure 
 from the air of fruits and flowers. A home- 
 ward glance show'ed me, to my surprise, the 
 whole troop mounted ; and in another mo- 
 ment at speed across the hills. I hastened 
 back. Miriam met me. My kinsmen had 
 openly disclaimed my alliance. 
 
 Indignant and disappointed, I prepared to 
 follow, and demand the cause of this in- 
 sult. As I passed under a vine that shadow- 
 ed one of the pavilions, my daughter’s voice 
 arrested me. She was talking with Constan- 
 tiusa and in tears. Scorning mere curiosity, 
 I yet was anxious for sincere explanation. 
 I felt that if Salome had a wish which she 
 feared to divulge to her father, this was my 
 only hope of obtaining the knowledge. The 
 voices were feeble, and I could for a while 
 catch but a broken sentence. 
 
 “ I owed it to him,” said she, “ not to de- 
 ceive his partiality. He offered all that could 
 have done a Jewish maiden honor to receive ; 
 — his heart, hand, and fortune.” 
 
 “ And you rejected them all ?” said Con- 
 stantius. “ Have you no regrets for the lover 
 — no fears for the father?” 
 
 “ For Jubal I had too high an esteem, to 
 give him a promise which I could not keep. 
 I knew his generous nature. I told him at 
 once, that there was an invincible obstacle 1” 
 
 “I should like incomparably to know what 
 that obstacle could be ?” said Constantius. 
 
 The natural playfulness of this sweet and 
 light-hearted girl had already superseded the 
 tear ; and she replied — “ That a philosopher 
 ought to know all things without ques- 
 tioning.” 
 
 “ But there is much in the world that defies 
 philosophy, my fair Salome; and of all its pro- 
 blems, the most perplexing is the mind of 
 woman ! — of young, lovely, dangerous wo- 
 man ?” 
 
 “ Now, Constantius, you abandon the phi- 
 losopher, and talk the language of the poet.” 
 
 “ Yet wilhout the poet’s imagination. No; 
 
 I need picture no beauty from the clouds — 
 no nymph from the fountains — no loveliness 
 that haunts the trees, and breathes more than 
 mortal melody on the ear. Salome ! my 
 muse is before me.” 
 
 “ You are a Greek,” said she, after a slight 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 interval ; “ and the Greeks are privileged to 
 talk, and to deceive.” 
 
 “ Salome ! I am a Greek no longer. What 
 I shall yet be, may depend upon the fairest 
 artist that ever fashioned the human mind. 
 But mine are not the words of inexperience. 
 I am on this day five-and-twenty years old. 
 My life has led me into all that is various in 
 the intercourse of earth. I have seen woman 
 in her beauty, in her talent, in her art, in her 
 accomplishment, from the cottage to the 
 throne ; but I never felt her real power.” 
 
 “ Which am I to believe — the possible or 
 the impossible! A soldier! a noble! a 
 Greek ! and of all Greeks, one of Cyprus ! 
 not the breaker of a thousand hearts, the 
 worshipper at a thousand altars, the offerer of 
 your eloquence at every shrine where your 
 own lovely countrywomen stood on the pe- 
 destal ! — 1 too have seen the world.” 
 
 “ Heaven forbid, that you may ever see it, 
 but what it would be made by such as you ; — 
 a place of gentleness and harmony — a place 
 of fondness and innocence — a paradise !” 
 
 “ Now, you are farther from the philoso- 
 pher than ever : but I must listen no more : 
 the sun is taking its leave of us, and blushing 
 its last through the vines for all the fine ro- 
 mance that it has heard from Constantius. 
 Farewell, philosophy.” 
 
 “Then farewell, philosophy,” said Con- 
 stantius ; and caught her hand, as she was 
 lightly moving from the pavilion. He led 
 her towards the casement. “ Then farewell 
 philosophy, my sweet ; and welcome truth, 
 virtue, and nature. I loved you in your cap- 
 tivity ; I loved you in your freedom ; on the 
 sea, on the shore, in the desert, in your home, 
 I loved you. In life I will love you, in death 
 we shall not be divided. This is not the 
 language of mere admiration, the rapture of 
 a fancy dazzled by the bright eyes of my Sa- 
 lome. It is the language of reason, of sa- 
 cred truth, of honor bound by higher than 
 human bonds; of fondness, that even the 
 tomb will render only more ardent and sub- 
 lime. Here, in the sight of Heaven, I pledge 
 an immortal to an immortal.” 
 
 Astonishment and grief alone prevented my 
 exclaiming aloud against this attempt to 
 master the affections of my child. The mar- 
 riage of the Israelite with the stranger was 
 prohibited by our law ; and still more severe- 
 ly prohibited by the later customs and ordi- 
 nances of our teachers. But marriage with 
 a fugitive, a deceiver, a son of the idolater, 
 whose proselytism had never been avowed, 
 and whose skill in the ways of the world 
 might be at this hour undermining the peace 
 or the faith of my whole family; the idea 
 was tenfold profanation ! I checked myself 
 only to have complete evidence. 
 
 “ But,” said my daughter, in a voice min- 
 
 gled with many a sigh, “ if this should be- 
 come known to my father, and known it 
 must be — how can we hope for his consent ? 
 Now, Constantius, you will have to learn 
 what it is to deal with our nation. We have 
 prejudices, lofty, though blind indissoluble, 
 
 though fantastic ; my father’s consent 
 
 is beyond all hope.” 
 
 “ He is honorable — be has human feeling 
 — he loves you.” 
 
 “ Fondly, I believe ; and I must rot thus 
 return his love: no, though my happiness 
 were to be the forfeit, I must not pain his 
 heart by the disobedience of his child.” 
 
 “ But, Salome, my sweet Salome ; are ob- 
 stinacy and prejudice to be obeyed against 
 the understanding and the heart! I should 
 be the last man on earth to counsel disobe- 
 dience; I venerate the tie of parent and 
 child. But can a father counsel his child to 
 a crime ; and would it not be one to give 
 your faith to this Jubal, if you could not love 
 him !” 
 
 “ I have decided that already. Never will 
 I wed Jubal.” 
 
 “Yet, what is it that you would disobey ! 
 a cruel and fantastic scruple of your teachers, 
 the perverters of your law. Must we sacri- 
 fice reason to prejudice — truth to caprice — 
 the law of nature and of Heaven to the 
 forgeries and follies of the Scribes ! Mine 
 you are, and mine you shall be, my wife by 
 a law more sacred, more powerful, and more 
 pure. The time of bondage is past. A new 
 law, a new hope, have come to break the 
 chains of the Jew, and enlighten the darkness 
 of the Gentile. You have heard that law; 
 your generous heart and unclouded under- 
 standing have received it ; and now, by that 
 common hope, my beloved, we are one : 
 though seas and mountains should separate 
 us — though the malice of fortune, though the 
 tyranny of man, should forbid our union ; 
 still, in flight, in the dungeon, in the last 
 hour of a troubled existence, we are one. 
 Now, Salome, I will go ; but go to seek your 
 father.” 
 
 My indignation rose to its height. I had 
 heard my child taught to rebel ; and yet could 
 check my wrath. I had heard myself pro- 
 nounced the slave of prejudice; and yet kept 
 down my burning passion. But the open 
 declaration that our holy law was to be abol- 
 ished — nay, to my child was a law no more 
 — let loose the whole storm of my soul. I 
 rushed from my concealment; Salome ut- 
 tered a scream, and sank senseless upon the 
 ground. Constantius raised her up, and bqre 
 her to a vase, from which he sprinkled water 
 upon her forehead. “ Leave her,” I ex- 
 claimed ; “ better for her to remain in that 
 insensibility, better be dead, than an apostate. 
 Villian, be gone; it is only in scorn, that a 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 47 
 
 father’s vengeance suffers you to live. Fly 
 from this house, from this country, before 
 justice compels me to deliver you up to pun- 
 ishment. Go, traitor, and let me never see 
 you more.” I tore the fainting girl from his 
 arms. He made no resistance — no reply. 
 Salome recovered with a gush of tears, and 
 feebly pronounced his name. “ I am with 
 you still, my love,” he pronounced in an un- 
 altered tone. She looked up, and as if she 
 had then first seen me, sprang forward with 
 a cry of terror: “Go,” said 1, “go to your| 
 chamber, weak girl, and on your knees atone 
 for your disobedience — for (do I live to say it 1) ; 
 your abandonment of the faith of your fathers. ; 
 But no, it is impossible; you cannot have! 
 been so guilty : this Greek — this foreign 
 bringer-in of fables — this smooth intruder on 
 the peace of families, cannot have so tri- 
 umphed over your understanding.” 
 
 “ I have been rash, sir,” said Constantius, 
 loftily; “I may have been unwise too in my 
 language ; but I have been no deceiver. Not 
 for the wealth of kings — not even for the 
 more precious treasure of the heart I love — 
 would Constantius sully his lips with a false-! 
 hood.” . I 
 
 “ Begone,” cried I ; “1 am insulted by 
 your presence: the sight of the ungrateful 
 sickens me. Go, and pervert others — hypo- 
 crite ; or rather, take my contemptuous for- 
 giveness, and repent, in sackcloth and ashes, 
 the basest crime of the basest mind. Come, 1 
 daughter, and leave the baffled idolater to 
 think of his crime.” I was leading her away 
 — she struggled, and I cast her from me. 
 Constantius, with his cheek burning and his 
 eye flashing, approached her. My taunts had 
 at length roused him. 
 
 “Now, Salome,” said he, haughtily glanc- 
 ing on me, “ injured as I am, I disclaim all 
 idle deference for an authority used only to 
 give pain. You are my betrothed ; you shall 
 be my bride. Let us go forth and try our 
 chance together through the world.” 
 
 She was silent, and wept only more vio- 
 lently. But with one hand covering her face, 
 she repelled him with the other. 
 
 “Then you will be the wife of Jubal!” 
 said he. 
 
 “Never!” she firmly pronounced. “So 
 help me heaven, never !” 
 
 “Retire, girl,” I exclaimed, “and weep 
 tears of blood for your rebellion. Go, stranger 
 — ingrate — seducer — and never darken my 
 threshold more. Aye, now I see the cause 
 of my brave kinsman’s departure. He was 
 circumvented. A wilier tongue was here 
 before him. He disdained to reveal the 
 daughter’s folly to the insulted father. But 
 this shall not avail either of you. He shall 
 return.” 
 
 Salome cast up an imploring glance, and ! 
 
 sank upon her knees before me. Constantius 
 advanced to her; but I bounded between 
 them — my dagger was drawn. “ Touch her, 
 and you die.” 
 
 He smiled scornfully, and turning back the 
 blade, raised her. 
 
 “ Give that wretched child up to me this 
 moment,” I exclaimed in fury; “or may the 
 bitterness of a father’s curse be on your 
 head !” He staggered back ; then stooping 
 his lips upon her forehead, gave her to me and 
 strode from the pavilion. 
 
 I flew to the house of Eleazar. I found 
 him anxious and agitated. Calm as his usual 
 manner was, the late transaction had left its 
 traces on his manner and his countenance. 
 Juhal was in the apartment, which he tra- 
 versed backwards and forwards in high in- 
 dignation. He made no return to my salute, 
 but by stopping short, and gazing full on me 
 with a look of mingled anger and surprise. 
 
 “Jubal,” said I, “kinsman, we must be 
 friends:” I held out my hand, which he took 
 with no fervent pressure. “ I am here only 
 to explain this idle offence.” 
 
 “It requires no explanation,” interrupted 
 Jubal, sternly. “ I, and I alone, am to blame, 
 if there be any one to blame in the matter. 
 The offer may have been precipitate, or un- 
 welcome, or unpardonable, from one still de- 
 pendent, still without rank in the tribes: it 
 may have been fit that I should be haughtily 
 rejected by the family of the descendant of 
 Aaron; but,” said he, pressing his strong 
 hand upon his throat, as if to keep down a 
 burst of passion, “ the subject is at an end ; 
 now and forever at an end.” He recom- 
 menced his striding through the chamber. 
 
 “ Let us hear all, my friend,” said I : “ I 
 know that Salome thinks highly of your spirit, 
 and your heart. Was there any palliation 
 offered 1 Did she disclose any secret reason 
 for a conduct so opposite to her natural gen- 
 tleness, to her natural regard for you, and 
 which she must feel so offensive to me! 
 But, insult from my family, impossible !” 
 
 “ Hear then. I had not alighted from my 
 horse, when I saw displeasure written in the 
 face of every female in your household. 
 From the very handmaids up to their mis- 
 tress, they had, with the instinct of woman, 
 discovered my object; and, with the usual 
 deliberation of the sex, had made up their 
 minds without hearing a syllable. Your wife 
 received me, it is true, with the grace and 
 courteousness that belongs to her above wo- 
 men; but she was visibly cold.- Esther abso- 
 lutely shrank from me, and scorned to return 
 a word. Salome fled. As for the attendants, 
 they frowned and muttered upon me in all 
 directions, with the most candid wrath possi- 
 ble. In short, I could not have fared worse 
 had I been a Roman, come to take posses- 
 
48 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 sion ; or an Arab, riding. up to rifle every soul 
 in the house.” 
 
 “ Ominous enough !” said Eleazar, with 
 his grave smile. “ The opinions of the sex 
 are irresistible. With half my knowledge 
 of them, Jubal, you would have turned your 
 horse’s head homewards at once ; and given 
 up ydhr hopes of a bride, at least till the next 
 day, or the next hour, or whatever may be 
 the usual time for the sex’s change of mind. 
 Cheer up, kinsman; we will caparison our- 
 selves in another dress, let time do its work, 
 ride over to Salathiel’s mansion to-morrow, 
 and find a smile for every frown of to-day.” 
 
 “ But you saw Salome!” said I. “I am 
 impatient to hear how she could have ven- 
 tured to offend. Could she dare to refuse my 
 brother’s request without a reason !” 
 
 “ No ; her conduct was altogether without 
 disguise. She first tried to laugh me out of 
 my purpose, then argued, then wept; and, 
 finally, told me that our alliance was impossi- 
 ble.” 
 
 “ Rash girl ; but she has been led into this 
 folly by others : yet the chief folly was my 
 own. Aye ; my eyes were dim, where a 
 mole would have seen. In my feeble negli- 
 gence, in my contemptuous disregard for the 
 common prudence of mankind, I suffered an 
 alien, a subtle, showy, plausible villain to re- 
 main under my roof, till he has, by what arts 
 I know not, wiled away the duty and the un- 
 derstanding — nay, I tremble to pronounce 
 the word, the religion of my child.” I smote 
 my breast in sorrow and humiliation. 
 
 Jubal burst from the apartment, and re- 
 turned with a lance in a hand quivering with 
 wrath. “ Now, all is cleared,” cried he ; 
 “ the true cause was the magic, the cunning 
 superstition of that idolater. I know the arts of 
 paganism to bewitch the senses of woman ; the 
 incantations, the perfumes, the midnight fires, 
 and images, and songs. But let him come 
 within the throw of this javelin, and then try 
 whether all his magic can shield him.” 
 
 Eleazar grasped his robe, as he was again 
 rushing out. “ Stop, madman. Is it with 
 hands dipped in blood that you are to solicit 
 the heart of Salome 1 Give me that horrid 
 weapon ; and you, Salathiel, curb your wild 
 spirit, and listen to a brother who can have 
 no interest but in the happiness of both and 
 all. If Salome, whom I loved an infant on 
 the knee, and love to this moment, the most 
 ingenuous and happy-hearted being on earth, 
 has been betrayed into a fondness for this 
 stranger, how have we the right to force her 
 inclinations ? But I know the depth of un- 
 derstanding that lies under her playfulness; 
 can she have been deceived, and least of all 
 by those idle arts? Impossible ! — If she have 
 sacrificed her obedience to the noble form 
 and high accomplishments of the Greek, we 
 
 ! can only lament her exposure to a captivation 
 made to subdue the heart of woman since the 
 world began.” 
 
 I “Jubal,” interrupted I, “ give me that man- 
 ly and honest hand : Eleazar’s wisdom is 
 too calm to understand a father or a lover. 
 You shall return with me : you shall be my 
 son ; Salathiel has no other. This foolish girl 
 will be sorry for her follies, and rejoice to re- 
 ceive you. The Greek is driven from my 
 house. And let me see who there will hence- 
 forth disobey.” The lover’s face brightened 
 I with joy. 
 
 “ Well, make your experiment,” said Elea- 
 zar, rising. “ So end all councils of war, 
 in more confusion than they began. But, if 
 I had a wife and daughters ” 
 
 “ Of course, you would manage them to 
 perfection. So say all who have never had 
 either.” 
 
 Eleazar’s cheek coloured slightly : but with 
 his recovering smile of benevolence he fol- 
 lowed us to the porch, and wished us success 
 in our expedition. 
 
 We found the household tranquilized again. 
 Miriam received me with one of those ra- 
 diant smiles, that are a husband’s best wel- 
 come heme. She had succeeded in calming 
 the minds of her daughters, and, a much more 
 difficult task, in suppressing the wrath of the 
 numerous female domestics, who had, as 
 usual, constructed out of the graces of the 
 Greek and the beauty of Salome, a little ro- 
 mance of their own. In the whole course of 
 my life I never met a female, from the flat- 
 nosed and ebony-colored monster of the trop- 
 ics, to the snow-white and sublime divinity of 
 a Greek isle, without a touch of romance; re- 
 pulsiveness could not conceal it, age could 
 not extinguish it, vicissitudes could not 
 change it. I have found it in all times and 
 places; like a spring of fresh waters starting 
 up even from the flint ; cheering the cheer- 
 less, softening the insensible, renovating the 
 withered ; a secret whisper in every woman 
 alive, that, to the last, passion might flutter 
 .its rosy pinions round her brow. 
 
 | The strong prejudices of our nation gave 
 way before female fondness for love adven- 
 ture ; rebellion was but hushed ; and I was 
 warned by many a look, of the unwelcome 
 suitor whom l brought among them. But 
 from Salome there was no remonstrance. I 
 should have listened to none. The conscious- 
 ness of my own want of judgment in suffer- 
 | ing a man so calculated to attract the eye of 
 innocent youth, to become an inmate in my 
 house ; the vexation which I felt at the dis- 
 missal of my brother’s heir; and, last and 
 keenest pang, the inroad made in the faith of 
 i a daughter of Israel, combined to exasperate 
 me beyond the bounds of patience. I loved 
 I my child with the strongest affection of a heart 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 49 
 
 rocked by all the tides of passion : but I could 
 bear to look upon the pale beauty of her face, 
 and hear her deep sighs — nay, in the wrath 
 of the hour, could have seen her borne to the 
 grave — rather than permit the command to 
 be disputed, by which she was to wed in our 
 tribe. 
 
 To shorten a period of which I felt the full 
 bitterness, the marriage was hurried on. 
 Never was the ceremony anticipated with 
 less joy : we were all unhappy. Eleazar re- 
 monstrated, but in vain. Jubal retracted, but 
 I compelled him to adhere to his proposal. 
 Miriam was closeted perpetually with the 
 betrothed ; and of the whole household Esther 
 alone walked or talked with me, and it was 
 then only to burst out into descriptions of 
 her sister’s misery, or to pursue me through 
 the endless mazes of argument on the hard- 
 ships of being forced to be happy. 
 
 The marriage preparation proceeded. The 
 piece of silver was given, the contracts were 
 signed. The presents of both families were 
 made. The portion was agreed upon. It 
 was not customary to require the appearance 
 of the bride until the celebration itself ; and 
 Salome was invisible during those days of 
 activity, in which, however, I took the chief 
 interest, for nothing could be farther from 
 zeal than the conduct of the other agents, 
 Jubal alone excepted. He had recovered the 
 easily-recovered confidence of youth, and 
 perhaps prided himself on the triumph over a 
 rival so formidable. Two or three petitions 
 for an interview came to me from my 
 daughter. But l knew their purport, and 
 steadily determined not to hazard the tempta- 
 tion of her tears. 
 
 The day came, and with it the guests; our 
 dwelling was full of banqueting. The even- 
 ing came, when the ceremony was to be per- 
 formed, and the bride led home to her hus- 
 band’s house in the usual triumph. One of 
 our customs was, that a procession of the 
 bridegroom’s younger friends, male and fe- 
 male, should be formed outside the house to 
 wait for the coming forth of the married pair. 
 The ceremony was borrowed by other na- 
 tions ; but in our bright climate and cloud- 
 less nights, the profusion of lamps and torches, 
 the burning perfumes, glittering dresses, and 
 fantastic joy of the dancing and singing crowd, 
 had unequalled liveliness and beauty. I re- 
 mained at my casement, gazing on the bril- 
 liant escort, that, as it gathered and arranged 
 itself along the gardens, looked like a flight 
 of glow-worms. But no marriage summons 
 came. I grew impatient. My only answer 
 was the sight of Jubal rushing from the house, 
 and an outcry among the women. Salome 
 was not to be found. She had been left by 
 herself for a few hours, as was the custom, to 
 arrange her thoughts for a ceremony which 
 
 ! we considered religious in the highest de- 
 gree. On the bridegroom’s arrival she dis- 
 appeared ! 
 
 The blow struck me deep. Had I driven 
 her into the arms of the Greek by my sever- 
 ity 1 Had I driven her out of her senses 1 or 
 out of life 1 Conjecture on conjecture stung 
 me. I reprobated my own cruelty, refused 
 consolation, and spent the night in alternate 
 self-upbraidings and prayers for my unhappy 
 child. 
 
 Search was indefatigably made. The jeal- 
 ousy of Jubal, the manly anxiety of Eleazar, 
 the hurt feelings of our tribe, insulted by the 
 possibility that their chieftain’s heir should 
 have been scorned, and that the triumph 
 should be to an alien, were embarked in the 
 pursuit. But search was hopeless; and after 
 days and nights of weariness, I returned to 
 my home, there to be met by sorrowing faces, 
 and to feel that every tear was forced by my 
 own obstinacy. I shrank into solitude. I 
 exclaimed that the vengeance, the more than 
 vengeance of the dreadful day of Jerusalem, 
 had struck its heaviest blow on me, in the loss 
 of my child ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 I was in one of those fits of abstraction, re- 
 volving the misery in which my beloved 
 daughter might be, even in that moment, if 
 indeed she were in existence, when the door 
 of my chamber opened softly, and one of my 
 domestics appeared, making a signal of 
 silence. This was he whom I had detected 
 in correspondence with the Roman agent, 
 and forgiven through the entreaties of Mi- 
 riam. The man had since shown remarkable 
 interest in the recovery of my daughter, and 
 thus completely reinstated himself. He knelt 
 before me ; and, with more humility than I 
 desired, implored my pardon for having again 
 held intercourse with the Roman. 
 
 “ It was my zeal,” said he, “ to gain intelli- 
 gence ; for I knew that nothing passed in the 
 provinces a secret from him. This letter is 
 his answer, and perhaps 1 shall be forgiven 
 for the sake of what it contains.” I read it 
 with trembling avidity. It was mysterious; 
 described two fugitives who had made their 
 escape to Caesarea; and intimated that, as 
 they were about to fly into Asia Minor, the 
 pursuit must be immediate, and conducted 
 with the utmost secrecy. 
 
 I was instantly on horseback. Dreading 
 to disturb my family by false hopes, I order- 
 ed out my hounds, ranged the hills in sight 
 of my dwelling, and then turning off, struck 
 in the spur, and, attended only by the do- 
 mestic, went full speed to Caesarea. From 
 
50 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 the summit of Mount Carmel, I looked down 
 upon the city and the broad Mediterranean. 
 But my eyes then felt no delight in the gran- 
 deur of art or nature. The pompous struc- 
 tures on which Herod the Great had expend- 
 ed a treasure beyond count, and which the 
 residence of the governor made the Roman 
 capital of Judea, were to me but so many 
 dens and dungeons, in which my child might 
 be hid. The sea showed me only the path 
 by which she might have been borne away, 
 or the grave in which her wanderings were 
 to close. 
 
 By extraordinary speed, I reached the gates 
 just as the trumpet was sounding for their 
 close. My attendant went forth to obtain 
 information : and I was left pacing my cham- 
 ber in feverish suspense. I did not suffer it 
 long. The door opened, and a group of sol- 
 diers ordered me to follow them. Resistance 
 was useless. They led me to the palac.e. 
 There I was delivered from guard to guard, 
 through a long succession of apartments, 
 until we reached the door of a banqneting- 
 room. The festivity within was high ; and 
 if I could have then sympathized with sing- 
 ing and laughter, I might have had full in- 
 dulgence during the immeasurable hour that 
 I lingered out, a broken wretch, exhausted 
 by desperate effort, sick at heart, and of 
 course not unanxious for the result of an 
 interview with the Roman procurator ; a 
 man whose name was equivalent to vice, 
 •extortion, and love of blood, throughout 
 Judea. 
 
 At length the feast was at an end. I was 
 summoned, and for the first time saw Gessius 
 Florus, a little, bloated figure, with a coun- 
 tenance that to the casual observer was the 
 model of gross good nature, a twinkling eye, 
 and a lip on the perpetual laugh. His bald 
 forehead wore a wreath of flowers, and his 
 tunic and the couch on which he lay breath- 
 ed perfume. The table before him was a 
 long vista of sculptured cups, and golden 
 vases and candelabra. “ I am sorry to have 
 detained you so long,” said he, “but this was 
 the emperor’s birth-day, and, as good subjects, 
 we have kept it accordingly.” 
 
 During this speech, he was engaged in 
 contemplating the wine-bubbles as they spark- 
 led above the brim of a large amethystine 
 goblet. A pale and delicate Italian boy, 
 sumptuously dressed, the only one of the 
 guests who remained, perceiving that I was 
 fatigued, filled a cup, and presented it. “ Right, 
 Septimius,” said the debauchee, “ make the 
 Jew drink the emperor’s health.” The youth 
 bowed gracefully before me, and again offer- 
 ed the cup ; but the time was not for indul- 
 gence, and I laid it on the table. “Here’s 
 long life and glory to Nero Claudius Caesar, 
 our pious, merciful, and invincible emperor,” 
 
 I cried Florus ; and only when he had drunk 
 to the bottom of the goblet, found leisure to 
 look upon his prisoner. He either felt or af- 
 fected surprise, and turning to his young 
 companion, said, “ By Hercules, boy, what 
 grand fellows those Jews make ! The hel- 
 met is nothing to the turban, after all. What 
 magnificence of beard ! no Italian chin has 
 the vigor to grow any thing so superb; then, 
 the neck, like the bull of Milo ; and those 
 blazing eyes ! If I had but a legion of such 
 spearsmen ” 
 
 I grew impatient, and said, “ I stand here, 
 procurator, in your bonds — I demand why 1 
 — 1 have business that requires my instant 
 attention : and I desire to be gone.” 
 
 “ Now, have I treated you so inhospitably,” 
 said he, laughing, “that you expect I shall 
 finish by shutting my doors upon you at this 
 time of night.” He glanced upon his tablets, 
 and read my name. “Aye,” said he, “and 
 after I have been so long wishing for the 
 honor of your company. Jew, take your 
 wine, and sit down upon that couch, and tell 
 me what brought you to Cffisarea.” 
 
 I told him briefly the circumstances. He 
 roared with laughter, desired me to repeat 
 them, and swore that “ by all the gods it was 
 the very best piece of pleasantry he had 
 heard since he set foot in Judea.” I stood 
 up in irrepressible indignation. “What!” 
 said he, “ will you go without hearing my 
 storv in return 1” He filled his goblet again 
 to the brim, buried his purple visage in a 
 vase of roses, and having inhaled the fra- 
 grance, and chosen an easy posture, said, 
 coldly, “Jew, you have told me a most excel- 
 lent story; and it is only fair that I should 
 tell you one in return ; not half so amusing, 
 
 I admit, but to the full as true. Jew, you 
 are a traitor !” 
 
 I started back. “Jew,” said he, “you 
 must in common civility hear me out. The 
 truth is, that your visit has been so often an- 
 ticipated, and so long delayed, that I cannot 
 bear to part with you yet; — you are an apos- 
 tate; you encourage those Christian dogs. 
 
 I Why does the man stare? — you are ih com- 
 munication with rebels; and I might have 
 had the honor of meeting you in the field, if 
 you had not been in my hands in Cfesarea.” 
 
 He pronounced those words of death in the 
 most tranquil tone; not a muscle moved; 
 the cup which he held brimful in his hand > 
 never overflowed. 
 
 “Jew’,” said he, “now be honest, and so 
 far set an example to your nation. Where 
 is the money that has been gathered for this 
 rebellion? You are too sagacious a soldier 
 to think of going to war without the main 
 spring of the machine.” 
 
 | I scorned to deny the intended insurrec- 
 1 tion ; but “ money I had collected none.” 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 51 
 
 “ Then,” said he, “you are now compel-! 
 ling me to what I do not like. Ho ! guard !” 
 A soldier presented himself. “Desire that 
 the rack shall be got ready.” The man re- 
 tired. “ You see, Jew, this is all your own 
 doing. Give up the money, and I give up 
 the rack. And the surrender of the coin is 
 asked merely in compassion to yourselves, 
 for without it you cannot rebel, and the more 
 you rebel the more you will be beaten.” 
 
 “ beware, Gessius Floras,” I exclaimed, 
 “beware. 1 am your prisoner, entrapped, as 
 I now see, by a villain, or by the greater vil- 
 lain who corrupted him. You may rack me 
 if you will ; you may insult my feelings; tear 
 my flesh; take my life: but for this there 
 will be retribution. Through Upper Galilee, 
 from Tiberias to the top of Libanus, this act 
 of blood will ring, and be answered by blood. 
 I have kinsmen many; countrymen, myriads. 
 A single wrench of my sinews may lift a 
 hundred thousand arms against your city, 
 and leave of yourself nothing but the remem- 
 brance of your crimes.” 
 
 He bounded from his couch : the native 
 fiend flashed out in his countenance: I wait- 
 ed his attack, with my hand on the poniard 
 within my sash. My look probably deterred' 
 him : for he flung himself back again and 
 bursting into a loud laugh, exclaimed ; “ Brave- 
 ly spoken. Septirnius, we must send the 
 Jew fo Rome to teach our orators. Aye, I 
 know Upper Galilee too well, not to know 
 that rebellion is more easily raised there than 
 the taxes. And it was for that reason, that 
 I invited you to come to Csesarea. In the; 
 midst of your tribe, capture would have cost 
 half a legion ; here a single jailor will do the 
 business. Ho! guard!” he called aloud. I 
 heard the screwing of the rack in the next 
 room, and unsheathed the poinard. The 
 blade glittered in his eyes. Septirnius came 
 between us, and tried to turn the procurator’s 
 purpose. 
 
 “ Let your guard come,” cried I, “ and, by 
 the sacredness of the Temple, one of us dies. 
 I will not live to be tortured, or you shall not 
 live to see it.” 
 
 If the door had opened I was prepared to 
 dart upon him. 
 
 “ Well,” said he, after a whispered expos- 
 tulation from Septirnius, “ you must go and 
 settle the matter with the Emperor. The 
 fact is, that I am too tender-hearted to gov- : 
 ern such a nation of dagger-bearers. So, 
 to Nero! If we cannot send the Emperor 
 money, we will at least send him men.” He 
 laughed vehemently at the conception ; or- 
 dered the singing and dancing slaves to re- 
 turn; called for wine, and plunged again 
 into his favorite cup. Septirnius rose, and 
 led me into another chamber. I remonstrated 
 against the injustice of my seizure. He 
 
 lamented it, but said that the orders from 
 Rome were strict, and that I was denounced 
 by some of the chiefs in Jerusalem as the 
 head of the late insurrection, and the projec- 
 tor of a new one. The procurator, he added, 
 had been for some time anxious to get me 
 into his power without raising a disturbance 
 among my tribe ; the treachery of my domes- 
 tic had been employed to effect this ; and 
 “ now,” concluded he, “ my best wish for you 
 — a wish prompted by motives of which you 
 can form no conjecture, is, that you may be 
 sent to Rome. Every day that sees you in 
 Csesarea sees you in the utmost peril. At 
 the first rumor of insurrection, your life will 
 be the sacrifice.” 
 
 “ But my family ! What will be their 
 feelings! Can I not at least acquaint them 
 with my destination!” 
 
 “ It is impossible. And now, to let you 
 into a state secret, the Emperor had ordered 
 that you should be sent to Rome. Floras 
 menaced, only to extort money. He now 
 knows you better, and would gladly enlist 
 you in the Roman cause. This I know to be 
 hopeless. But I dread his caprice, and shall 
 rejoice to see the sails hoisted that are to 
 carry you to Rome. Farewell ; your family 
 shall have due intelligence.” He was at the 
 door of the chamber, but suddenly returned, 
 and pressing my hand, said again, “ Farewell, 
 and remember that neither all Romans, nor 
 even all Greeks, may be alike!” He then 
 with a graceful obeisance left the room. 
 
 Fatigue hung with a leaden weight upon 
 my eyelids. I tried vain experiments to 
 keep myself from slumber in this perilous vi- 
 cinage. The huge silver chandelier, that 
 threw a blaze over the fretted roof, began to 
 twinkle before me; the busts and statues 
 gradually mingled, and I was once more in 
 the land of visions. Home was before my 
 eyes. I was suddenly tost upon the ocean. 
 I stood before Nero, and was addressing him 
 with a formal harangue, when the whole tis- 
 sue was broken up, by a sullen voice com- 
 manding me to rise. A soldier, sword in band, 
 was by the couch : he pointed to the door, 
 where an armed party were in attendance, 
 and informed me that I was ordered for im- 
 mediate embarkation. 
 
 It w'as scarcely past midnight ; the stars 
 were still in their glory ; the pharos threw a 
 long line of flame on the waters; the city 
 sounds were hushed ; and silent as a proces- 
 sion to the grave, we moved down to where 
 the tall vessel lay rocking with the breeze. 
 At her side a Nubian slave put a note into 
 my hand. It was from the young Roman, 
 requesting my acceptance of wine and fruits 
 from the palace, and wishing me a prospe- 
 rous result to my voyage. The sails were 
 hoisted ; the stately mole, that even in the 
 
52 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 night looked a mount of marble, was clear- 
 ed ; the libation was poured to the Tritons 
 for our speedy passage, and the blazing pharos 
 was rapidly seen but as a twinkling star. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Our trireme flew before the wind. By 
 day-break, the coast was but a pale line along 
 the waters; but Carmel $till towered proud- 
 ly eminent, and with its top alternately 
 clouded and glittering in the sun, might have 
 been taken for a gigantic beacon, throwing 
 up alternate smoke and flame. With what 
 eyes did I continue to look, until the mighty 
 hill too sank in the waters ! But thought still 
 lingered on shore. I saw, with a keenness 
 more than of the eye, the family circle ; 
 through many an hour of gazing on the 
 waters, I was all but standing in the midst 
 of those walls which I might never more 
 see; listening to the uncomplaining sighs of 
 Miriam, the impassioned remonstrances of 
 my sole remaining child, and busied in tiie 
 still harder task of finding out some defence 
 against the self-accusation that laid the 
 charge of rashness and cruelty heavy upon 
 my soul. But the scene round me was the 
 very reverse of moody meditation. The cap- 
 tain was a thorough Italian trierarch, ostenta- 
 tious, gay, given to superstition, and occa- 
 sionally a little of a freethinker. His ship 
 was to him child, wife, and world; and at 
 every manoeuvre he claimed from us such 
 tribute as a father might for the virtues of 
 his favorite offspring: perpetual luck was in 
 every thing that she did : she knew every 
 headland from Cyprus to Ostia : a pilot was 
 a mere supernumerary : she could run the 
 whole course without the helm, if she pleased. 
 She beat the Liburnian for speed ; the Cy- 
 priot for comfort ; the Sicilian for safety ; and 
 every other vessel on the seas for every other 
 quality. “ All he asked was, to live in her, 
 while he lived at all.; and to go down in her, 
 when the Fates were at last to cut his thread, 
 as they did those of all captains whether on 
 sea or land.” 
 
 The panegyric of the good ship Ganymede 
 was in some degree merited ; she carried us 
 on boldly. For a sea in which the winds are 
 constant when they come, but in which the 
 calms are as constant as the winds, nothing 
 could have been more adapted than the an- 
 cient galley. The sail or oar never failed. 
 If the gale arose, the ship shot along, like 
 the eagle that bore the Trojan boy; light, 
 strong, with its white sails full of the breeze, 
 and cleaving the surge with the rapidity of 
 an arrow. If the wind fell, we floated in a 
 
 pavilion, screened from the sun, refreshed 
 I with perfumes burning on poop, prow, and 
 masts, surrounded with gilding, and the carv- 
 ings and paintings of the Greek artists, drink- 
 ing delicious wines, listening to song and 
 j story, and in all this enjoyment, gliding in- 
 sensibly along on a lake of absolute sapphire, 
 encircled and varied by the most picturesque 
 and lovely islands in the world. 
 
 The Ganymede had been under especial 
 orders from Rome for my transmission ; but 
 I the captain felt too much respect for the pro- 
 curator not to tresspass on the letter of the 
 law, so far as to fill up the vacancies of his 
 hold with merchandize, in which Florus 
 drove a steady contraband trade. Having 
 done so much to gratify the governor’s dis- 
 tinguishing propensity, he next provided for 
 his own; and loaded his gallant vessel merci- 
 lessly with passengers, as much prohibited 
 as his merchandize. While we were still in 
 sight of land, I walked a lonely deck; but 
 when the salutary fear of the galleys on the 
 station was past, every corner of the Gany- 
 mede let loose a living cargo. 
 
 For the Jewish chieftain going from Florus 
 on a mission to the Emperor, as the captain 
 conceived me and my purpose to be, a sepa- 
 rate portion of the deck was kept sacred. 
 But I mingled from time to time with the 
 crowd and thus contrived to preserve at once 
 my respect and my popularity. Never was 
 there a more miscellaneous collection. We 
 transported into Europe a Chaldee sorcerer, 
 an Indian gymnosophist, an Arab teacher of 
 astrology, a magian from Persepolis, and a 
 Platonist from Alexandria. Such were our 
 contributions to Oriental science. We had, 
 besides, a dealer in sleight of hand from Da- 
 mascus; an Egyptian with tame monkeys 
 and a model of a pyramid ; a Syrian serpent- 
 teacher; an Idumean maker of amulets 
 against storm and calm, thirst and hunger, 
 and every other disturbance and distress of 
 life ; an Armenian discoverer of the stone by 
 which gold mines were to be discovered : a 
 Byzantine inventor of the true Oriental pearls; 
 a dealer from the Caspian in gums superse- 
 ding all that Arabia ever wept; an Epicurean 
 philosopher, who professed indolence, and, to 
 do him justice, was a striking example of his 
 doctrine; and a Stoic, who having gone his 
 rounds of the Roman garrisons as a teacher of 
 dancing, a curer of wines, and a flute-player, 
 had now risen into the easier vocation of 
 a philosopher. Of course, among those pro- 
 fessors, the discoverer of gold was the most 
 moneyless; the maker of amulets against 
 misfortune the most miserable; and the 
 Stoic the most impatient. The Epicurean 
 alone adhered to the spirit of his profes- 
 sion. 
 
 But the unstable elements round ns were 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 53 
 
 a severe trial for any human philosophy but 
 that of a thorough Optimist. Wind and 
 water, the two most imperious of things, 
 were our masters ; and a calm, a breeze, or 
 even a billow, often tried our reasoners too 
 roughly for the honor of tempers so saturated 
 with wisdom. On those occasions the Pla- 
 tonist defended the antiquity of Egypt with 
 double pertinacity ; the Chaldee derided its 
 novelty by the addition of a hundred thousand 
 years to his chronology of Babylon ; the In- 
 dian with increased scorn, wrinkling his 
 brown visage, told them that both Babylon 
 and Egypt were baubles of yesterday, com- 
 pared with the million years of India. The 
 dagger would have silenced many a discus- 
 sion on the chief good, the origin of benevo- 
 lence, and the beauty of virtue, but for the 
 voice of the captain, which, like thunder, 1 
 cleared the air. He, I will allow, was the 
 truest philosopher of us all. The Trierarch 
 was an unconscious Optimist ; nothing could 
 touch him with the shape of misfortune ; for, 
 to him it had no existence. If the storm 
 rose, “ we should get the more rapidly into 
 port;” if the calm came to fix us scorching 
 on the face of the ocean, “ nothing could be 
 safer.” If our provisions fell short, “ abste- 
 miousness now and then was worth a genera- 
 tion of doctors.” If the sun burned above us 
 with the fire of a ball of red-hot iron, “ it was 
 the test of fair weather ;” if the sky was a 
 mass of vapor, “ we escaped being roasted 
 alive.” 
 
 His maxims on higher subjects were 
 equally consoling. “ If man had to struggle 
 through life, struggle was the nursing mother 
 of greatness. If he were opulent, he had 
 gained the end without the trouble. If man 
 had disease, he learned patience and fortitude, 
 essentials for sailor, soldier, and philosopher 
 alike. If he enjoyed health, who could doubt 
 the blessing! — if he lived long, he had time for 
 enjoyment; if he died early, he escaped the 
 chances of the tables’ turning.” The Optimist 
 applied his principle to me by gravely inform- 
 ing me that “ though it depended on the Em- j 
 peror’s state of digestion, whether 1 should or 
 should not carry back my head from his pre- 
 sence, yet, if I lived I should see the games 
 of the Circus, and if I did not, I should in all 
 probability care but little about the matter.” 
 
 Nothing in the variety of later Europe 
 gives me a parallel to the distinctions of rank 
 and profession, style of subsistence, and phy- 
 siognomy, of the ancient world. Human na- 
 ture was classed in every kingdom, province, 
 and city, almost as rigidly as the different races 
 of mankind. The divisions of the slave, the 
 freedman, the citizen, the artist, the priest, 
 the man of literature, the man of public life, 
 were marked with a ploughshare, whose fur- 
 rows were never filled up but by the rarest 
 
 chance. Life had the curious mixture of 
 costume, the palpable diversity of purpose, 
 and the vivid intricacy of a drama. 
 
 Our voyage was rapid ; but even a linger- 
 ing transit would have been cheered by the 
 animation of the innumerable objects of beau- 
 ty and renown, which rise on every side in 
 the passage through a Grecian sea. The is- 
 lands were then untouched by the spoiler ; 
 the opulence of Rome had been added to At- 
 tic taste ; and temples, theatres, and palaces, 
 starting from groves, or studding the sides 
 of stately hills, and reflected in the mirror of 
 bays, smooth' and bright as polished steel, 
 held the eye a continual captive. On the 
 sea, flights of vessels, steering in all direc- 
 tions, glittering with the emblems of their 
 nations, the colored pennants, the painted 
 prows, the gilded images of the protecting 
 idols, covered the horizon with life. 
 
 We had reached the southern Cape of 
 Greece, and were, with a boldness unusual 
 to ancient navigation, stretching across in a 
 starless night, for the coast of Italy, when 
 we caught a sound of distant music, that re- 
 called the poetic dreams of nymphs and tri- 
 tons. The sound swelled and sank on the 
 wind, as if it came from the depths of the 
 ocean, or the bosom of the clouds. As we 
 parted from the land, it swelled richer, until 
 it filled the midnight with pompous harmony. 
 To sleep was profanation, and we all gather- 
 ed on the deck, exhausting nature and art in 
 conjectures of the cause. 
 
 The harmony approached and receded at 
 intervals, grew in volume and richness, then 
 stole away in wild murmurs, or died, to re- 
 vive with still more luxuriant sweetness. 
 Night passed away in delight and conjecture. 
 Morning alone brought the solution. Full 
 in the blaze of sunrise steered the imperial 
 fleet, returning in triumph from the Olympic 
 games, with the Emperor on board. We had 
 unconsciously approached it during the dark- 
 ness. The whole scene wore the aspect of 
 a vision summoned by the hand of an enchan- 
 ter. The sea was covered with the fleet in 
 order of battle. Rome of the galleys were 
 of vast size, and all were gleaming with gold 
 and decorations ; silken sails, garlands on 
 the masts, trophies hung over the sides, and 
 embroidered streamers of every shape and hue, 
 met the morning light. We passed the wing 
 of the fleet, close enough to see the sacrifi- 
 cial fires on the poop of the imperial quinqu- 
 reme. A crowd in purple and military habits 
 were standing round a throne, above which 
 proudly waved the scarlet flag of command. 
 A figure advanced, all foreheads were bowed, 
 acclamations rent the air; the trumpets of the 
 fleet flourished, and the lofty and luxuriant 
 harmonies, that had charmed us in the night, 
 again swelled upon the wind, and followed us 
 
54 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 long after the whole floating splendor had dis- 
 solved into the distant blue. 
 
 At length the headlands of the noble bay 
 of Tarentum rose above the horizon. While 
 we were running with the speed of a lap- 
 wing, the captain, to our surprise, shortened 
 sail. I soon discovered that no philosophy 
 was perfect; that even the Optimist thought 
 that daylight might be worse than useless, 
 and that a blot had been left in creation in the 
 shape of a custom-house officer. 
 
 Night fell at last; the moon, to which our 
 captain had taken a sudden aversion, was as 
 cloudy as he could desire ; and we rushed in 
 between the glimmering watch-towers on the 
 Japygian and Lacinian promontories. The 
 glow of light along the waters soon pointed 
 out where the luxurious citizens of Tarentum 
 were enjoying the banquet in their barges 
 and villas. Next came the hum of the great 
 city, whose popular boast was, like that of 
 later times, that it had more holydays than 
 days in the year. 
 
 But the Trierarch’s often-painted delight 
 at finding himself free to rove among the in- 
 dulgences of his favorite shore had lost its 
 poignancy; and with a firmness which set 
 the Stoic in a rage, the Epicurean in a state 
 of rebellion, and the whole tribe of our sages 
 in a temper of mere mortal remonstrance ; he 
 resisted alike the remonstrance and the al- 
 lurement; and sullenly cast anchor in the 
 centre of the bay. It was not until song and 
 feast had died, and all was hushed, that he 
 stole with the slightest possible noise to the 
 back of the mole, and sending us below, 
 disburdened his conscience and the good ship 
 Ganymede. 
 
 I had no time to give to the glories of Ta- 
 rentum. Nero's approach hurried my de- 
 parture. The centurion who had me in 
 charge trembled at the idea of delay ; and we 
 rode through the midst of three hundred 
 thousand sleepers in streets of marble and 
 ranks oftrophies, as silently and swiftly as if 
 we had been the ghosts of their ancestors. 
 When the day broke we found ourselves 
 among- the Lucanian hills, then no desert, 
 but living with population, and bright with 
 the memorials of Italian opulence and taste. 
 From the inn where we halted to change 
 horses, the Tarentine gulf spread broad and 
 bold before the eye. 
 
 The city of luxury and of power, once the 
 ruler of southern Italy, and mistress of the 
 seas; that sent out armies and fleets worthy 
 to contest the supremacy with Pyrrhus and 
 the Carthaginian; was, from this spot, sunk, 
 like all the works of man, into iittleness. 
 But the gulf, like all the works of nature, 
 grew in grandeur. Its circular shore edged 
 with thirteen cities, the deep azure of its 
 smooth waters inlaid with the flashes of sun- 
 
 rise, and traversed by fleets, diminished to 
 toys; reminded me of one of the magnificent 
 Roman shields, with its centre of sanguine 
 steel, the silver incrustation of the rim, and 
 the storied sculpture. 
 
 We passed at full speed through the Lu- 
 canian and Samnian provinces, fine sweeps 
 of cultivated country, interspersed with the 
 hunting grounds of the great patricians; fo- 
 rests that had not felt the axe for centuries, 
 and hills sheeted with the wild vine and rose. 
 But on reaching the border of Latium, I was 
 i already in Rome ; I travelled a day’s journey 
 among streets, and in the midst of a crowded 
 and hurrying population. The whole was 
 one huge suburb, with occasional glimpses of 
 a central mount, crowned with glittering and 
 gilded structures. “ There !” said the cen- 
 turion, with somewhat of religious reverence, 
 “Behold the eternal Capitol!” — I entered 
 Rome at night, passing through an endless 
 number of narrow and intricate streets, where 
 ! hovels, the very abode of want, were mingled 
 ! with palaces blazing with lights and echoing 
 with festivity. The centurion’s house was 
 at length reached. He showed me to an 
 apartment, and left me, saying, “ that I must 
 prepare to be brought before the Emperor im- 
 mediately on his arrival.” 
 
 I am now, thought 1, in the heart of the 
 heart of the world ; in the midst of that place 
 of power, from which the destiny of nations 
 issues; in the great treasure-house to which 
 men come from the ends of the earth for 
 knowledge, for justice, wealth, honor, thrones! 
 and what atn 1 1 — a solitary slave ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The genius of the Italian has, from the 
 beginning, been the same — bustling, sight- 
 loving, fond of every thing in the shape of 
 indulgence, yet fondest of indulgence where 
 the eye could be gratified. He was a sen- 
 sualist, but of all sensualists the most suscep- 
 tible of elegance. His Greek blood, his fine 
 climate, and the perpetual displays of the 
 noblest works of art, brought by conquest, 
 contributed to this temperament; but the 
 foundation was in that genius, which has 
 made his country the second cradle of the 
 arts of Europe. I never saw a little peasant- 
 celebration, a dance, a sacrifice of a few 
 flowers, that did not contain the spirit of 
 poetic beauty. Rome W’as all shows. Its 
 innumerable public events w'ere thrown into 
 the shape of pageantry. Its worship, elec- 
 tions, the departure and return of governors 
 and consuls, every operation of public life 
 was modelled into a pomp ; and in the bound- 
 less extent of the empire, those operations 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 55 
 
 were crowding on each other every day. 
 The multitude, that can still be set in motion 
 by a wooden saint, was then summoned by 
 the stirring and powerful ceremonial of em- 
 pire, the actual sovereignty of the globe. 
 What must have been the strong excitement, 
 the perpetual concourse, the living and vari- 
 ous activity of a city from which emanated 
 the stream of power through the world, to 
 return to it loaded with all that the opulence, 
 skill, and glory of the world could give ! 
 
 Triumphs, to whose grandeur and singu- 
 larity the pomps of later days are but the 
 attempts of paupers and children; sacrifices 
 and rites, on which the very existence of the 
 state was to depend ; the levy and march of 
 armies, which were to carry fate to the re- 
 motest corners of the earth ; the pageants of 
 the kings of the east and west, coming to 
 solicit diadems, or to deprecate the irresisti- 
 ble arms of Rome ; vast theatres ; public 
 games, that tasked the whole fertility of Ita- 
 lian talent, and the most prodigal lavishness 
 of imperial luxury ; were the movers that 
 among the three millions of Rome made life 
 a hurricane. 
 
 I saw it in its full and joyous commotion ; 
 I saw it in its desperate agony ; I saw it in its 
 frivolous revival; and I shall see it in an 
 hour, wilder, weaker, and more terrible than 
 
 all. 
 
 By an influence of which I was then ig- 
 norant, I was permitted to be present at some 
 of those displays, under charge of the centu- 
 rion. No man could be better fitted for a 
 state jailor. Civility sat on his lips, but cau- 
 tion the most profound sat beside her. He 
 professed to have the deepest dependence on 
 my honor, yet he never let me beyond his 
 eye. But I had no desire to escape. The 
 crisis must come ; and I was as well inclined 
 to meet it then, as to have it hanging over 
 me. 
 
 Intelligence in a few days arrived from 
 Brundusium of the emperor’s landing, and of 
 his intention to remain at Antium, on the 
 road to-Rome, until his triumphal entry should 
 be prepared. My fate now hung in the scale. 
 I was ordered to attend the imperial presence. 
 At the vestibule of the Antian palace, my 
 careful centurion deposited me in the hands 
 of a senator. As I followed him through the 
 halls, a young female richly attired, and of 
 the most beautiful face and form, crossed us, 
 light and graceful as a dancing nymph. The 
 senator bowed profoundly. She beckoned to 
 him, and they exchanged a few words. I 
 was probably the subject ; for her counte- 
 nance, sparkling with the animation of youth 
 and loveliness, grew pale at once: she clasped 
 both her hands upon her eyes, and rushed 
 into an inner chamber. She knew Nero 
 well ; and dearly she was yet to pay for her 
 
 knowledge. The senator to my inquiring 
 glance, answered in a whisper, “ The Em- 
 press Poppsea.” 
 
 A few steps onward, and I stood in the 
 presence of the most formidable being on 
 earth. .Yet, whatever might have been the 
 natural agitation of the time, I could scarcely 
 restrain a smile at the first sight of Nero. I 
 saw a pale, under-sized, light-haired young 
 man sitting before a table with a lyre on it, 
 a few copies of verses and drawings, and a 
 parrot’s cage, to whose inmate he was teach- 
 ing Greek with great assiduity. But for the 
 regal furniture of the cabinet, I should have 
 supposed myself led by mistake into an inter- 
 view with some struggling poet. He shot 
 round one quick glance, on the opening of the 
 door, and then proceeded to give lessons to 
 his bird. I had leisure to gaze on the tyrant 
 and parricide. 
 
 Physiognomy is a true science. The man 
 of profound thought, the man of active ability, 
 and above all, the man of genius, has his cha- 
 racter stamped on his countenance by nature ; 
 the man of violent passions and the voluptuary 
 have it stamped by habit. But the science 
 has its limits : it has no stamp for mere cruel- 
 ty. The features of the human monster be- 
 fore me were mild, and almost handsome : a 
 heavy eye and a figure tending to fulness 
 gave the impression of a quiet mind ; and but 
 for an occasional restlessness of brow, and a 
 brief glance from under it, in which the leaden 
 eye darted suspicion, I should have pronounc- 
 ed Nero one of the most indolently tranquil 
 of mankind. 
 
 He remanded the parrot to his perch, took 
 up his lyre, and throwing a not-unskilful 
 hand over the strings, in the intervals of the 
 performance languidly addressed a broken 
 sentence to me. “ You have come, I under- 
 stand, from Judea ; — they tell me that you 
 have been, or are to be, a general of the in- 
 surrection ; — you must be put to death ; — 
 your countrymen give us a great deal of 
 trouble, and I always regret to be troubled 
 with them. — But to send you back would 
 only be encouragement to them, and to keep 
 you here among strangers would only be 
 cruelty to you. — I am charged with cruelty : 
 you see the charge is not true. — I am lam- 
 pooned every day ; I know the scribblers, but 
 they must lampoon or starve. I leave them 
 to do both. Have you brought any news 
 from Judea 1 — They have not had a true 
 prince there since the first Herod ; and he 
 was quite a Greek, a cut-throat, and a man of 
 taste. He understood the arts. — I sent for 
 you, to see what sort of animal a Jewish re- 
 bel was. Your dress is handsome, but too 
 light for our winters. — You cannot die before 
 sunset, as till then I am engaged with my 
 music master. — We all must die when our 
 
56 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 time comes. — Farewell — till sunset may Ju- 
 piter protect you !” 
 
 I retired to execution ! and before the door 
 closed, heard this accomplished disposer of 
 life and death preluding’ upon his lyre with 
 increased energy. I was cortducted to a 
 turret until the period in which the Emperor’s 
 engagement with his music-master should 
 leave him at leasure to see me die. Yet 
 there was kindness even under the roof of 
 Nero, and a liberal hand had covered the table 
 in my cell. The hours passed heavily along, 
 but they passed ; and I was watching the last 
 rays of my last sun, when I perceived a cloud 
 rise in the direction of Rome. It grew 
 broader, deeper, darker, as I gazed ; its cen- 
 tre was suddenly tinged with red ; the tinge 
 spread ; the whole mass of cloud became 
 crimson ; the sun went down, and another sun 
 seemed to have risen in his stead. I heard 
 the clattering of horses’ feet in the courtyards 
 below; trumpets sounded; there was confu- 
 sion in the palace ; the troops hurried under 
 arms ; and I saw a squadron of cavalry set off 
 at full speed. 
 
 As I was gazing on the spectacle before 
 me, which perpetually became more menac- 
 ing, the door of my cell slowly opened, and a 
 masked figure stood upon the threshold, I 
 had made up my mind ; and demanding if he 
 was the executioner, I told him “ that I was 
 ready.” The figure paused, listened to the 
 sounds below, and after looking for a while 
 on the troops in the court-yard, signified by 
 signs that I had a chance of saving my life. 
 The love of existence rushed back upon me. 
 I eagerly inquired what was to be done. He 
 drew from under his cloak the dress of a 
 Roman slave, which I put on, and noiselessly 
 followed his steps through a long succession 
 of small and strangely intricate passages. We 
 found no difficulty from guards or domestics. 
 The whole palace was in a state of extraor- 
 dinary confusion. Every human being was 
 packing up something or other : rich vases, 
 myrrhine-cups, table-services, were lying in 
 heaps on the floors ; books, costly dresses, in- 
 struments of music, all the appendages of 
 luxury, were flung loose in every direction, 
 from the sudden breaking up of the court. I 
 might have plundered the value of a province 
 with impunity. Still we wound our hurried 
 way. In passing along one of the corridors, 
 the voice of complaining struck the ear; my 
 mysterious guide hesitated ; I glanced through 
 the slab of crystal that showed the chamber 
 within. It was the one in which I had seen 
 the Emperor, but his place was now filled by 
 the form of youth and beauty that had crossed 
 me on my arrival. She was weeping bitterly, 
 and reading with strong and sorrowful indig- 
 nation a long list of names, probably one of 
 those rolls in which Nero registered his in- 
 
 tended victims, and which, in the confusion 
 of departure, he had left open. A second glance 
 saw her tear the paper into a thousand frag- 
 ments, and scatter them in the fountain that 
 gushed upon the floor. 
 
 I left this lovely and unhappy creature, 
 this dove in the vulture’s talons, with almost 
 a pang. A few steps more brought us into 
 the open air, but among bowers that covered 
 our path with darkness. At the extremity 
 of the gardens my guide struck with his dag- 
 ger upon a door ; it was opened ; we found 
 horses outside ; he sprang on one ; I sprang 
 on its fellow ; and palace, guards, and death, 
 were left far behind. 
 
 He galloped so furiously that I found it im- 
 possible to speak; and it was not till we had 
 reached an eminence a few miles from Rome, 
 where we breathed our horses, that I could 
 ask to whom I had been indebted for my es- 
 cape. But I could not extract a word from 
 him. He made signs of silence, and pointed 
 with wild anxiety to the scene that spread 
 below. It was of a grandeur and terror in- 
 describable. Rome was an ocean of flame. 
 
 Height and depth were covered with red 
 surges, that rolled before the blast like an 
 endless tide. The billows burst up the sides 
 of the hills, which they turned into instant 
 volcanoes, exploding volumes of smoke and 
 fire; then plunged into the depths in a hun- 
 dred glowing cataracts, then climbed and 
 consumed again. The distant sound of the 
 city in her convulsion went to the soul. The 
 air was filled with the steady roar of the ad- 
 vancing flame, the crash of falling houses, 
 and the hideous outcry of the myriads flying 
 through the streets, or surrounded and perish- 
 ing in the conflagration. 
 
 Hostile to Rome as I was, I could not re- 
 strain the exclamation ; “ There goes the fruit 
 of conquest, the glory of ages, the purchase 
 of the blood of millions ! Was vanity made 
 for man?” My guide continued looking for- 
 ward with intense earnestness, as if he were 
 perplexed by what avenue to enter the burn- 
 ing city. I demanded who he was, and whi- 
 ther he would lead me. He returned no an- 
 swer. A long spire of flame that shot up 
 from a hitherto untouched quarter engrossed 
 all his senses. He struck in the spur, and 
 making a wild gesture to me to follow, darted 
 down the hill. I pursued ; we found the 
 Appian choked with waggons, baggage of 
 every kind, and terrified crowds hurrying 
 into the open country. To force a way 
 through them was impossible. All was 
 ; clamor, violent struggle, and helpless death. 
 Men and women of the highest rank were 
 on foot, trampled by the rabble, that had 
 then lost all respect of conditions. One dense 
 mass of miserable life, irresistible from its 
 I weight, crushed by the narrow streets, and 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 scorched by the flames over their heads, rolled 
 through the gates like an endless stream of 
 black lava. 
 
 We turned back, and attempted an entrance 
 through the gardens of the same villas that 
 skirted the city wall near the Palatine. All 
 were deserted, and after some dangerous leaps 
 over the burning ruins, we found ourselves 
 in the streets. The fire had originally broken 
 out upon the palatine, and hot smoke that 
 wrapped and half blinded us, hung thick as 
 night upon the wrecks of pavilions and pal- 
 aces : but the dexterity and knowledge of my 
 inexplicable guide carried us on. It was in 
 vain that I insisted upon knowing the purpose 
 of this terrible traverse. He pressed his hand 
 on his heart in re-assurance of his fidelity, 
 and still spurred on. 
 
 We now passed under the shade of an im- 
 mense range of lofty buildings, whose gloomy 
 and solid strength seemed to bid defiance to 
 chance and time. A sudden yell appalled 
 me. A ring of fire swept round its summit; 
 burning cordage, sheets of canvass, and a 
 shower of all things combustible, flew into 
 the air above our heads. An uproar followed, 
 unlike all that I had ever heard, a hideous 
 mixture of howls, shrieks, and groans. The 
 flames rolled down the narrow street before 
 us, and made the passage next to impossible. 
 While we hesitated, a huge fragment of the 
 building heaved, as if in an earthquake, and 
 fortunately for us fell inwards. The whole 
 scene of terror was then open. The great 
 amphitheatre of Statilius Taurus had caught 
 fire ; the stage with its inflammable furniture 
 was intensely blazing below. The flames 
 were wheeling up, circle above circle, through 
 the seventy thousand seats that rose from the 
 ground to the roof. I stood in unspeakable 
 awe and wonder on the side of this colossal 
 cavern, this mighty temple of the city of fire. 
 At length a descending blast cleared away 
 the smoke that covered the arena. The cause 
 of those horrid cries was now visible. The 
 wild beasts kept for the games had broke from 
 their dens. Maddened by affright and pain, 
 lions, tigers, panthers, wolves, whole herds of 
 the monsters of India and Africa were en- 
 closed in an impassable barrier of fire. They 
 bounded, they fought, they screamed, they 
 tore ; they ran howling round and round the 
 circle ; they made desperate leaps upwards 
 through the blaze ; they were flung back, and 
 fell only to fasten fheir fangs in each other, 
 and with their parching jaws bathed in blood, 
 die raging. 
 
 I looked anxiously to see whether any hu- 
 man being was involved in this fearful catas- 
 trophe. To my great relief, I could see none. 
 The keepers and attendants had obviously 
 escaped. As I expressed my gladness, I was 
 i startled by a loud cry from my guide, the first 
 
 sound that I had heard him utter. He pointed 
 to the opposite side of the amphitheatre. — 
 There indeed sat an object of melancholy in- 
 terest ; a man who had either been unable to 
 escape, or had determined to die. Escape 
 was now impossible. He sat in desperate 
 calmness on his funeral pile. He was a gi- 
 gantic Ethiopian slave, entirely naked. He 
 had chosen his place as if in mockery on the 
 imperial throne ; the fire was above him and 
 around him ; and under this tremendous can- 
 opy he gazed, without the movement of a mus- 
 cle, on the combat of the wild beasts below; 
 a solitary sovereign with the whole tremen- 
 dous game played for himself, and inaccessible 
 to the power of man. 
 
 I was forced away from this absorbing spec- 
 tacle ; and we once more threaded the long 
 and intricate streets of Rome. As we ap- 
 proached the end of one of those bewildering 
 passages, scarcely wide enough for us to ride 
 abreast, I was startled by the sudden illumi- 
 nation of the sky immediately above; and 
 rendered cautious by the experience of our 
 hazards, called to my companion to return. — 
 He pointed behind me, and showed the fire 
 bursting out in the houses by which we had 
 just galloped. I followed on. A crowd that 
 poured from the adjoining streets cut off our 
 retreat. Hundreds rapidly mounted on the 
 houses in front, in the hope by throwing them 
 down tocheck the conflagration. The obstacle 
 once removed, we saw the source of the light 
 — spectacle of horror ! The great prison of 
 Rome was on fire. Never can I forget the 
 sights and sounds — the dismay — the hopeless 
 agony — the fury and frenzy that then over- 
 whelmed the heart. The jailors had been 
 forced to fly before they could loose the fet- 
 ters, or open the cells of the prisoners. We 
 saw those gaunt and wo- begone wretches 
 crowding to their casements, and imploring 
 impossible help; clinging to the heated bars; 
 toiling with their impotent grasp to tear out 
 the massive stones ; some wringing their 
 hands ; some calling on the terrified specta- 
 tors by every name of humanity to save them ; 
 some venting their despair in execrations and 
 blasphemies that made the blood run cold ; 
 others, after many a wild effort to break loose, 
 dashing their heads against the walls, or stab- 
 bing themselves. The people gave them 
 outcry for outcry; but the flame forbade ap- 
 proach. Before I could extricate myself from 
 the multitude, a whirl of fiery ashes shot up- 
 wards from the falling roof; the walls rent 
 into a thousand fragments ; and the huge pri- 
 son, with all its miserable inmates, w T as a heap 
 of red embers. 
 
 Exhausted as I was by this restless fatigue, 
 and yet more by the melancholy sights that 
 surrounded every step, no fatigue seemed to 
 be felt by the singular being that governed 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 my movements. He sprang- through the burn- 
 ing ruins — he plunged into the sulphurous 
 smoke — he never lost the direction that he had 
 first taken ; and though baffled and forced to 
 turn back a hundred times, he again rushed 
 on his track with the directness of an arrow. 
 For me to make my way back to the gates, 
 would be even more difficult than to push for- 
 ward. My ultimate safety might be in follow- 
 ing, and I followed. To stand still, and to 
 move, were equally perilous. The streets, 
 even with the improvements of Augustus* 
 were still scarcely wider than the breadth of 
 the little Italian carts that crowded them. — 
 They were crooked, long, and obstructed by 
 every impediment of a city built in haste, af- 
 ter the burning by the Gauls, and with no 
 other plan than the caprice of its hurried ten- 
 antry. The houses were of immense height, 
 chiefly wood, many roofed with thatch, and 
 all covered or cemented with pitch. The 
 true surprise is, that it had not been burned 
 once a year from the time of its building. 
 
 The memory of Nero, that hereditary con- 
 centration of vice, of whose ancestor’s yellow 
 beard the Roman orator said, “ No wonder 
 that his beard was brass, when his mouth was 
 iron and his heart lead,” the parricide and the 
 prisoner, may yet be fairly exonerated of an 
 act which might have been the deed of a 
 drunken mendicant in any of the fifty thou- 
 sand hovels of this gigantic aggregate of every 
 thing that could turn to flame. 
 
 We passed along through all the horrid 
 varieties of misery, guilt, and riot, that could 
 find their place in a great public calamity : 
 groups gazing in woe on the wreck of their 
 fortunes, rushing off to the winds in vapor 
 and fire; groups plundering in the midst of 
 the flame ; groups of rioters, escaped felons, 
 and murderers, exulting in the public ruin, 
 and dancing and drinking with Bacchanalian 
 uproar : gangs of robbers trampling down and 
 stabbing the fugitives to strip them of their 
 last means ; revenge, avarice, despair, profli- 
 gacy, let loose naked ; undisguised demons, to 
 swell the wretchedness of this tremendous in- 
 fliction upon a guilty and blood-covered empire. 
 
 Still we spurred on, but our jaded horses at 
 length sank under us; and leaving them to 
 find their way into the fields, we struggled 
 forward on foot. The air h-ad hitherto been 
 calm, but now gusts began to rise, thunder 
 growled, and the signs of tempest thickened 
 on. We gained an untouched quarter of the 
 city, and had explored our weary passage up 
 to the gates of a large patrician palace, when 
 we were startled by a broad sheet of flame 
 rushing through the sky. The storm was 
 come in its rage. The range of public mag- 
 azines of wood, cordage, tar, and oil, in the 
 valley between the Ccelian and Palatine hills, 
 had at length been involved in the conflagra- 
 
 tion. All that we had seen before was dark- 
 ness to the fierce splendor of this burning. — 
 The tempest tore off the roofs, and swept them 
 like floating islands of fire through the sky. 
 The most distant quarters on which they fell 
 were instantly wrapped in flame. One broad 
 mass, whirling from an immense height, broke 
 upon the palace before us. A cry of terror 
 was heard within; the gates were flung open, 
 and a crowd of domestics arid persons of 
 both sexes, attired for a banquet, poured out 
 into the streets. The palace was wrapt in 
 flame. My guide then for the first time lost 
 his self-possession. He staggered towards 
 me with the appearance of a man who had 
 received a spear-head in his bosom. I caught 
 him before he fell; but his head sank, his knees 
 bent under him, and his white lips quivered 
 with unintelligible sounds, I could distinguish 
 only the words — “gone, gone for ever!” 
 
 The flame had already seized upon the 
 principal floors of the palace; and the volumes 
 of smoke that poured through eveiy window 
 and entrance, rendered the attempt to save 
 those still within, a work of extreme hazard. 
 But ladders were rapidly placed, ropes were 
 flung, and the activity of the attendants and 
 retainers was boldly exerted, till all were 
 presumed to have been saved, and the build- 
 ing was left to burn. 
 
 My overwhelmed guide was lying on the 
 ground, when a sudden scream was heard, 
 and a figure, in the robes and with the rosy 
 crown of the banquet, strange contrast to her 
 fearful situation, was seen flying from window 
 to window in the upper pait of the mansion. 
 It was supposed that she had fainted in the 
 first terror, and been forgotten. The height, 
 the fierceness of the flame which now com- 
 pletely mastered resistance, the volumes of 
 smoke that suffocated every man who ap- 
 proached, made the chance of saving this un- 
 fortunate being utterly desperate in the opin- 
 ion of the multitude. 
 
 My spirit shuddered at the horrors of this 
 desertion. I looked round at my companion; 
 he was kneeling, in helpless agony, with his 
 hands lifted up to heaven. Another scream, 
 wilder than ever, pierced my senses. I seized 
 an axe from one of the domestics, caught a 
 ladder from another, and in a paroxysm of 
 hope, fear, and pity, scaled the burning wall. 
 A shout from below followed me. I entered 
 at the first window that I could reach. All 
 before me was cloud. I rushed on, struggled, 
 stumbled over furniture and fragments of all 
 kinds, fell, rose again, found myself trampling 
 upon precious things, plate and crystal, and 
 still, axe in hand, forced my way. I at length 
 reached the banqueting-room. The figure 
 had vanished. A strange superstition of 
 childhood, a thought that I might have been 
 lured by some spirit of evil into the place of 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 59 
 
 ruin, suddenly came over me. I stopped to 
 gather my faculties. I leaned against one of 
 the pillars ; it was hot ; the floor shook and 
 crackled under my tread, the walls heaved, 
 the flame hissed below, and over head roared 
 the whirlwind, and burst the thunder-peal. 
 
 My brain was fevered. The immense 
 golden lamps still burning; the long tables 
 disordered, yet glittering with the costly or- 
 naments of patrician luxury ; the scattered 
 Tyrian couches ; the scarlet canopy that cov- 
 ered the whole range of the tables, and gave 
 the hall the aspect of an imperial pavilion, 
 partially torn down in the confusion of the 
 flight, all assumed to me a horrid and bewil- 
 dered splendor. The smokes were already 
 rising through the crevices of the floor ; the 
 smell of flame was on my robes; a huge vol- 
 ume of yellow vapor slowly wreathed and 
 arched round the chair at the head of the 
 banquet. I could have imagined a fearful 
 lord of the feast under that cloudy veil ! 
 Every thing round me was marked with pre- 
 ternatural fear, magnificence, and ruin. 
 
 A low groan broke my reverie. I heard 
 the voice of one in despair. I heard the 
 broken words, “ Oh, bitter fruits of disobe- 
 dience! — Oh, my mother, shall I never see 
 your face again 1 — For one crime I am doom- 
 ed. — Eternal mercy, let my crime be washed 
 away — let my spirit ascend pure. — Farewell, 
 mother, sister, father, husband!” With the 
 last word I heard a fall, as if the spirit had 
 left the body. 
 
 I sprang towards the sound : I met but the 
 solid wall. “ Horrible illusion,” I cried — “ am 
 I mad, or the victim of the powers of dark- 
 ness!” I tore away the hangings — a door 
 was before me. I burst it through with a 
 blow of the axe, and saw stretched on the 
 floor and insensible — Salome ! 
 
 I caught my child in my arms ; I bathed 
 her forehead with my tears ; I besought her 
 to look up, to give some sign of life, to hear 1 
 the full forgiveness of my breaking heart. I 
 
 She looked not, answered not, breathed not. 
 To make a last effort for her life, I carried 
 her into the banquet-room. But the fire 
 had forced its way there ; the wind bursting 
 in, had carried the flame through the loner 
 galleries ; and flashes and spires of lurid 
 light already darting through the doors, 
 gave fearful evidence that the last stone 
 of the palace must soon go down. 
 
 I bore my unhappy daughter towards 
 the window; but the height was deadly, 
 no gesture could be seen through the piles 
 of smoke, the help of man was in vain. 
 To my increased misery, the current j)f air 
 revived Salome, at the instant when I 
 hoped that by insensibility she would escape 
 the final pang. She breathed, stood, and, 
 opening her eyes, fixed on me the vacant 
 stare of one scarcely aroused from sleep. 
 Still clasped in my arms, she gazed again ; 
 but my wild face covered with dust, my 
 half-burnt hair, the axe gleaming in my 
 hand, terrified her ; she uttered a scream, 
 and darted away from me headlong into 
 the centre of the burning. 
 
 I rushed after her, calling on her name. 
 A column of fire shot up between us; I 
 felt the floor sink ; all was then suffocation 
 — I struggled, and fell. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 I awoke with a sensation of pain in 
 every limb. A female voice was singing 
 a faint song near me. But the past was 
 like a dream. I involuntarily looked down 
 for the gulf on which I had trod — I looked 
 upward for the burning rafters. 1 saw 
 nothing but an earthern floor, and a low 
 
60 
 
 Salat Kiel. 
 
 roof hung with dried grapes and herbs. I 
 uttered a cry. The singer approached me. 
 But there was nothing in her aspect to 
 nurture a diseased imagination ; she was 
 an old and ( emaciated creature, who yet 
 benevolently rejoiced in my restoration. 
 She in turn, called her husband, a venerable 
 Jew, whose first act was to offer thanks- 
 giving to the God of Israel, for the safety of 
 a chief of his nation. 
 
 But to my inquiries for the fate of my 
 child, he could give no answer ; he had 
 discovered me among the ruins of the palace 
 of the ^Emilii, to which he with many of 
 his countrymen had been attracted with 
 the object of collecting whatever remnants 
 of furniture might be left by the flames. I 
 had fallen by the edge of a fountain which 
 extinguished the fire in its vicinage, and 
 was found breathing. During three days 
 I had lain insensible. The Jew now went, 
 out, and brought back with him some of the 
 elders of our people, who, after the decree 
 of the Emperor Claudius, remained in Rome, 
 though in increased privacy. I was carried 
 to their house of assemblage, concealed 
 among groves and vineyards beyond the 
 gates ; and attended to with a care which 
 might cure all things but the wounds of the 
 mind. On the great object of my solicitude, 
 the fate of my Salome, I could obtain no 
 relief. I wandered over the site of the 
 palace, it was now a mass of ashes and 
 charcoal ; its ruins had been probed by 
 hundreds: but search for even a trace of 
 what would have been to me dearer than 
 a mountain of gold was in vain. 
 
 The conflagration continued six days ; 
 and every day of the number gave birth to 
 some monstrous Teport of its origin. Of 
 the fourteen districts of Rome, but four 
 remained. Thousands had lost their lives, 
 tens of thousands were utterly undone. The 
 whole empire shook under the blow. Then 
 came the still deeper horror. 
 
 Fear makes the individual feeble, but it 
 
 makes the multitude ferocious. An uni- 
 versal cry arose for revenge. Great pub- 
 lic misfortunes give the opportunity that 
 the passions of men and sects love ; and 
 the fiercest sacrifices of selfishness are justi- 
 fied under the name of retribution. 
 
 But the full storm burst on the Christians, 
 then too new to have fortified themselves 
 in the national prejudices, if they would 
 have suffered the alliance; too' poor to 
 recken any powerful protectors ; and too 
 uncompromising to palliate their scorn of 
 the whole public system of morals, philoso- 
 phy, and religion. The emperor, the priest- 
 hood, and the populace, conspired against 
 them, and they were ordered to the slaugh- 
 ter. I too had my stimulants to hatred. 
 Where was II in exile, in desperate haz- 
 ard ; — I had been torn from home, robbed 
 of my child, made miserable by the fear 
 of apostacy in my house ; and by whom 
 was this comprehensive evil done? The 
 name of Christian was gall to me. I heard 
 of the popular vengeance, and called it 
 justice ; I saw the distant fires in which 
 the Christians were consuming, and calcu- 
 lated how many each night of those horrors 
 would abstract from the guilty number. 
 Man becomes cruel, by the sight of cruelty ; 
 and when thousands and hundreds of thou- 
 sands were shouting for vengeance, when 
 every face looked fury, and every tongue 
 was wild with some new accusation, when 
 the great, the little, the philosopher, the 
 ignorant, raised up one roar of reprobation 
 against the Christians, was the solitary 
 man of mercy to be looked for in one bleed- 
 ing from head to foot with wrongs irre- 
 parable ? 
 
 During one of those dreadful nights, I 
 was gazing from the house-top on the 
 fire forcing its way through the remain- 
 ing quarters; the melancholy gleams 
 through the country, showing the extent 
 of the flight; and in the midst of the 
 blackened and dreary wastes of Rome, 
 the spots of livid flame where Chris- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 61 
 
 tians were perishing at the pile ; when I was 
 summoned to a consultation below. One of 
 our people had returned with an imperial 
 edict proclaiming pardon of all offences to the 
 discoverer of Christians. I would not have 
 purchased my life by the life of a dog. But 
 my safety was important to the Jewish cause, 
 and I was pressed on every side by arguments 
 on the wisdom, nay, the public duty of accept- 
 ing freedom on any terms. And what was 
 to be the price 1 the life of criminals long 
 obnoxious to the laws, and now stained be- 
 yond mercy. I loathed delay; I loathed 
 Rome; I was wild to return to the great 
 cause of my country, which never could have 
 a fairer hope than now. An emissary was 
 sent out ; money soon effected the discovery 
 of a Christian assemblage : I appeared before 
 the praetor with my documents, and brought 
 back in my hand the imperial pardon, given 
 with a greater good-will, as the assemblage 
 chanced to comprehend the chiefs of the her- 
 esy. They were seized, ordered forthwith 
 to the pile, and I was ordered to be present 
 at this completion of my national service. 
 The executions were in the gardens of the 
 imperial palace, which had been thrown open 
 by Nero, for the double purpose of popularity, 
 and of indulging himself with the display of 
 death at the slightest personal inconvenience. 
 The crowd was prodigious, and to gratify the 
 greatest possible number at once, those mur- 
 ders were carried on in different parts of the 
 garden. In the vineyard, a certain, portion 
 were to be crucified ; in the orangery, an- 
 other portion were to burnt; in the pleasure- 
 ground, another were to be torn by lions and 
 tigers ; gladiators were to be let loose ; and 
 when the dusk came on, the whole of the 
 space was to be lighted by human torches, 
 Christians wrapped in folds of linen covered 
 with pitch and bitumen, and thus burning 
 down from the head to the ground. I was 
 horror-struck ; but escape was impossible, and 
 1 must go through the whole hideous round. 
 With my flesh quivering, my ears ringing, 
 my eyes dim, I was forced to see miserable 
 beings, men, nay, women, nay, infants, sewed 
 rap in skins of beasts, hunted and torn to 
 pieces by dogs ; old men, whose hoary liairs 
 might have demanded reverence of savages, 
 scourged, racked, and nailed to the trees to 
 die ; lovely young females, creatures of guile- 
 less hearts and innocent beauty, flung on 
 flaming scaffolds. And this was the work of 
 man, civilized man, in the highest civiliza- 
 tion of the arts, the manners, and the learn- 
 ing of the ancient world. 
 
 But the grand display was prepared for the 
 time when those Christians, who had been 
 denounced on my discovery, were to be exe- 
 cuted ; an exhibition at which the emperor 
 himself testified his intention to be present. 
 
 C* 5 
 
 The great Circus was no more ; but a tem- 
 porary amphitheatre of the turf had been 
 erected, in which the usual games were ex- 
 hibited during the early part of the day. At 
 the hour of my arrival, the low bank circling 
 this immense inclosure, was filled with the 
 first names of Rome, knights, patricians, sen- 
 ators, military tribunes, consuls; the emperor 
 alone was wanting to complete the represen- 
 tative majesty of the empire. I was to form 
 a part of the ceremony, and the guard who 
 had me in charge cleared the way to a con- 
 spicuous place, where my national dress fixed 
 every eye on me. Several Christians had 
 perished before my arrival. Their remains 
 lay on the ground, and in their midst stood 
 the man who was to be tke next victim. By 
 what influence I know not, but never did I 
 see a human being that made on me so deep 
 an impression. I have him before me at this 
 instant. I see the figure, low, yet with an 
 air of nobleness; stooped a little with vener- 
 able age ; but the countenance, full of life, 
 and marked with all the traits of intellectual 
 power, the nose strongly aquiline, the bold 
 lip, the large and rapid eye ; the whole man 
 conveying the idea of an extraordinary per- 
 manence of early vigor, under the weight of 
 years. Even the hair was thick and black, 
 with scarcely a touch of silver. If the place 
 and time were Athens, and the era of De- 
 mosthenes, I should have said that Demos- 
 thenes stood before me. The vivid counte- 
 nance and manner; the flashing rapidity with 
 which he seized a new idea, and compressed 
 it to his purpose; the impetuous argument 
 that, throwing off the formality of logic, 
 smote with the strength of a new fact, were 
 Demosthenaic. Even a certain infirmity of 
 utterance, and an occasional slight difficulty 
 of words, added to the likeness; but there 
 was a hallowed glance, and a solemn, yet 
 tender reach of thought, interposed among 
 those intense appeals, that asserted the sa- 
 cred superiority of the subject and the man. 
 
 He was already speaking w'hen I reached 
 the Circus; and 1 can give but an outline of 
 his language. 
 
 He pointed to the headless bodies around 
 him. 
 
 “For what have these, my brethren, died I 
 Answer me, priests of Rome ; what temple 
 did they force— w hat altar overthrow — what 
 insults offer to the slightest of your public cele- 
 brations! Judges of Rome, what offence did 
 they commit against the public peace! Con- 
 suls, where were they found in rebellion 
 against the Roman majesty ! People! patri- 
 cians ! who among your thousands can charge 
 one of these holy dead with extortion, impu- 
 rity, or violence ; can charge them with any 
 thing, but the patience that bore wrong with- 
 
62 
 
 i 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 out a murmur, and the charity that answered 
 tortures only by prayers'!” 
 
 He then touched upon the nature of his 
 faith. 
 
 “ Do I stand here demanding to be believ- 
 ed for opinions! No; but for facts. I have 
 seen the sick made whole, the lame walk, 
 the blind receive their sight, by the mere 
 name of Him whom you crucified. I have 
 seen men once ignorant of all languages but 
 their own, speaking with the language of 
 every nation under heaven — the still greater 
 wonder, of the timid defying all fear — the un- 
 learned instantly made wise in the mysteries 
 of things divine and human — putting to shame 
 the learned — aweing the proud — enlighten- 
 ing the darkened ; alike in the courts of kings, 
 before the furious people, and in the dungeon, 
 armed with an irrepressible spirit of know- 
 ledge, reason, and truth, that confounded their 
 adversaries. I have seen the still greater 
 wonder, of the renewed heart; the impure 
 suddenly abjuring vice; the covetous, the 
 cruel, the faithless, the godless, gloriously 
 changed into the holy, the gentle, the faith- 
 ful, the worshiper of the true God in spirit 
 and in truth ; the conquest of the passions 
 which defied your philosophers, your tribu- 
 nals, your rewards, your terrors, achieved in 
 the one mighty name. Those are facts, things 
 which I have seen ; and who that had seen 
 them could doubt that the finger of the eter- 
 nal God was there ! I dared not refuse my 
 belief to the divine mission of the being by 
 whom, and even in memory of whom, things 
 baffling the proudest human means were 
 wrought before my eyes. Thus irresistibly 
 compelled by facts to believe that Christ was 
 sent by God ; I was with equal force com- 
 pelled to believe in the doctrines declared by 
 this glorious Messenger of the Father alike 
 of quick and dead. And thus I stand before 
 you this day, at the close of a long life of la- 
 bor and hazard, a Christian.” 
 
 This appeal to the understanding, divested 
 as it was of all ornament and oratorical dis- 
 play, was listened to by the immense multi- 
 tude with the most unbroken interest. It 
 was delivered with the strong simplicity of 
 conviction. He then spoke of the Founder 
 of his faith. 
 
 “ Men may be mad for opinions. But who 
 can be mad for facts! The coming of Christ 
 was prophesied a thousand years before !” 
 
 “ From the beginning of his ministry he 
 lived wholly before the eyes of mankind. His 
 life corresponds with the prophecies in a mul- 
 titude of circumstances which must have been 
 totally beyond human power. The virgin 
 mother, the village in which he was born, the 
 lowliness of his cradle, the worship paid to 
 him there, the hazard of his life — all were 
 predicted. Could the infant have shaped the 
 
 (accomplishment of these predictions? — The 
 death that he should die, the hands by which 
 it was to be inflicted, even the draught that 
 he should drink, and the raiment that he 
 should be clothed in, and the sepulchre in 
 which he should be laid, were predicted. — 
 Could the man have shaped their accomplish- 
 ment! — The time of his resting in the tomb; 
 his resurrection ; his ascent to heaven ; the 
 sending of the Holy Spirit after he was gone ; 
 all were predicted ; all were beyond human 
 collusion, human power, or human thought, 
 and all were accomplished !” 
 
 “Those things were universally known to 
 the nation most competent to detect collusion. 
 Did Christ come to Rome, where every new 
 religion finds adherents, and where all pre- 
 tensions might be advanced without fear; 
 where a deceiver might have quoted prophe- 
 cies that never existed, and vaunted of won- 
 ders done where there was no eye to detect 
 them? No! his life was spent in Judea, per- 
 haps for the express purpose of adding to his 
 mercy and long-suffering, the most unanswer- 
 able proofs of his divine mission. He made 
 his appeal to the Scriptures, m a country 
 where they were in the hands of the people. 
 His miracles were wrought before the eyes 
 of a priesthood that watched him step by step; 
 his doctrines were spoken, not to a careless 
 and mingled multitude, holding a thousand 
 varieties of opinion, but to an exclusive race, 
 subtle in their inquiries, eager in their zeal, 
 and proud of their peculiar possession of di- 
 vine knowledge.” 
 
 “Yet against his life, his miracles, or his 
 doctrine, what charge could they bring? — 
 None. There is not a single stigma on the 
 purity of his conduct; the power of his won- 
 der-working control over man and nature; 
 the holiness, wisdom, and grandeur, of his 
 views of Providence ; the truth, charity, and 
 meekness of his counsels to man. Their sin- 
 gle source of hatred was the pride of worldly 
 hearts that expected a king, where they were 
 to have found a teacher. Their single charge 
 against him was his prophecy, that there 
 should be an end to their Temple and their 
 state within the life of man. They crucified 
 him; he died in prayer, that his murderers 
 might be forgiven ; and his prayer was might- 
 ily answered. He had scarcely risen to his 
 eternal throne, when thousands believed, and 
 were forgiven. To Him be the glory, for 
 ever and ever !” 
 
 “ Compare him with your legislators. He 
 gives the spirit of all law in a single sentence 
 — ‘ Do unto others as you would they should 
 do unto you.’ Compare him with your priest- 
 hood. He gives a single significant rite, ca- 
 pable of being extended to every land and 
 every age, and in them all speaking to the 
 heart; he gives a single prayei; containing 
 
Scilathiel. 
 
 63 
 
 the substance of all that man can rationally 
 implore of Heaven. Compare him with your 
 moralists. He lays the foundation of virtue 
 in love to God. Compare him with your 
 sages. He leads a life of privation without a 
 murmur ; he dies a death of shame, desertion, 
 and agony; and his last breath is sublime 
 mercy ! Compare him with your conquerors. 
 Without the shedding of a drop of blood, he 
 has already conquered hosts that would have 
 resisted all the swords of earth, hosts of stub- 
 born passions, cherished vices, guilty perver- 
 sions of the powers and faculties of man. — 
 Look on these glorious dead, whom I shall 
 join before the set of yonder sun. Yes, mar- 
 tyrs of God ! ye were his conquests ; and ye 
 too, are more than conquerors, through him 
 that loved us, and gave himself for us. But 
 a triumph shall come, magnificent and terri- 
 ble, when all eye? shaH behold him ; and the 
 tribes of the earth, even they who pierced 
 him, shall mourn.” 
 
 “ Then rejoice, ye dead ! For ye shall rise. 
 Ye shall be clothed with glory ; ye shall be 
 as the angels, bright and powerful, immortal, 
 intellectual kings! ‘For though worms de- 
 stroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see 
 God.’” 
 
 The sky was cloudless ; the sun was in the 
 west, but shining in his broadest beams; the 
 whole space before me was flooded with his 
 light; when, as I gazed upon the martyr, I 
 saw a gleam issue from his upturned face; it 
 increased to brightness, to strong radiance, to 
 an intense lustre that made the sunlight ut- 
 terly pale. All was astonishment in the am- 
 phitheatre, but all was awe. The old man 
 seemed unconscious of the wonders that in- 
 vested him. He continued with his open 
 hands lifted up, and his eyes fixed on hea- 
 ven. The glory spread over his form ; and 
 he stood before us, robed in an effulgence 
 which shot from him like a living fount of 
 splendor round the colossal circle. Yet the 
 blaze, though it looked the very essence of 
 light, was strangely translucent; we could 
 see with undazzled eyes every feature; and 
 whether it was the working of my over- 
 whelmed mind, or a true change, the coun- 
 tenance appeared to have passed at once from 
 age to youth. A lofty joy, a look of supernal 
 grandeur, a magnificent, yet etherial beauty, 
 had transformed the features of the old man 
 into the likeness of the winged sons of Im- 
 mortality ! 
 
 He spoke; and the first sound of his voice 
 thrilled through every bosom, and made every 
 man start from his seat. 
 
 “ Men and brethren. — It is the desire of 
 God that all should be saved — Jew and Gen- 
 tile alike; for with him there is no respect 
 of persons. He is the Father of all ! Chris- 
 tianity is not a philosophic dream ; nor the 
 
 opinion of a sect struggling to gain power 
 among contending sects ; but a divine com- 
 mand — the summons of the God of gods that 
 you should accept the mercy offered to you 
 through the sacrifice of the Eternal Son ! — 
 the opening of the gates of an eternal world ! 
 It is not a summons to the practice of barren 
 virtue, but a declaration of real reward, 
 mightier than the imagination of man can 
 conceive. It raises the spirit of man, forgiven 
 for the sake of Christ, into the imperishable 
 possession of an actual power, to which the 
 ambition of earth is a vapor; it invests the 
 redeemed with all that can delight the eye, 
 or rejoice the heart, or elevate the under- 
 standing. Would you be kings 1 — would you 
 be glorious as the stars of heaven! — would 
 you possess mighty faculties of happiness, su- 
 premacy, and knowledge ? Ask for forgive- 
 ness of your evil in the name of Christ; and 
 whether you live or die, those things shall be 
 yours. What is easier than the price? — what 
 more transcendant than the reward ? Who 
 shall tell the limit of the risen Spirit? Over 
 what worlds, or worlds of worlds, he may be 
 sovereign ! What resistless strength — what 
 more than regal majesty — what celestial 
 beauty — may be in his frame ! — What expan- 
 sion of intellect — what everflowing tides of 
 new sensation — what shapes of glory and 
 loveliness — what radiant stores of thought, 
 and mysteries of exhaustless knowledge, may 
 be treasured for him ! What endless ascent 
 through new ranks of being, each as much 
 more glorious than the last as the risen spirit 
 is above man ! — For what can be the bound 
 to the exaltation of the fellow-heirs with 
 Christ, for whom the Eternal stooped to suf- 
 fer upon the cross, and for whom he rose 
 again to his throne, their leader in trial, their 
 leader in triumph ! Omnipotence for their 
 protector, their friend, their father! He who 
 gave to us his own Son, will he not with him 
 give us all things?” 
 
 “ King of kings ! if through a long life I 
 have labored in thy cause, in perils of wa- 
 ters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine 
 own countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in 
 perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, 
 in perils in the sea, in perils among false 
 brethren, in weariness and painfulness, in 
 watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in cold 
 and nakedness; thine alone be the praise, 
 thine the glory, who hast brought me through 
 them all with a strong hand and an outstretch- 
 ed arm. Now, Lord ! thou who shalt change 
 my vile body into the likeness of thy glorious 
 body, be with thy servant in this last hour ! 
 Lord, receive my spirit ; that where thou art, 
 even I may be with thee !” 
 
 He was silent ; the splendor gradually pass- 
 ed away from his form. He knelt upon the 
 
64 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 sand, bowing down his neck to receive the 
 blow. 
 
 But to lift a hand against such a being 
 seemed an act of profanation. The axe-bear- 
 er dared not approach. The spectators sat 
 hushed in involuntary homage. Not a word, 
 not a gesture, broke the silence of veneration. 
 At length a flourish of distant horns and trum- 
 pets was heard. Cavalry galloped forward, 
 announcing the emperor; and Nero, habited 
 as a triumphant charioteer, drove his gilded 
 car into the arena. The Christian had risen ; 
 and with his hands clasped on his breast, was 
 awaiting death. Nero cast the headsman an 
 execration at his tardiness; the axe swept 
 round ; and when I glanced again, the old 
 man lay beside his brethren ! 
 
 This man I had sacrificed. My heart smote 
 me ; I would have fled the place of blood, but 
 more of my victims were to be slain; and I 
 must be the shrinking witness of all. 
 
 The emperor’s arrival commenced the 
 grand display. He took his place under the 
 curtains of the royal pavilion. The dead 
 were removed ; perfumes were scattered 
 through the air; rose-water was sprinkled 
 from silver tubes upon the exhausted multi- 
 tude; music resounded; incense burned ; and, 
 in the midst of those preparations of luxury, 
 the terrors cf the lion combat began. 
 
 A portal of the arena opened, and the com- 
 batant, with a mantle thrown over his face 
 and figure, was led in, surrounded by soldiery. 
 The lion roared, and ramped against the bars 
 of his den at the sight. The guard put a 
 sword and buckler into the hands of the 
 Christian, and he was left alone. He drew 
 the mantle from his face, and bent a slow and 
 firm look round the amphitheatre. His fine 
 countenance and lofty bearing raised a uni- 
 versal shout of admiration. He might have 
 stood for an Apollo encountering the Python. 
 His eye at last turned on mine. Could I be- 
 lieve my senses! Constantius was before 
 me ! 
 
 All my rancour vanished. An hour past 
 I could have struck the betrayer to the heart ; 
 I could have called on the severest vengeance 
 of man and heaven to smite the destroyer of 
 my child. But, to see him hopelessly doom- 
 ed; the man whom I had honored for his no- 
 ble qualities, whom I had even loved, whose 
 crime was at worst but the crime of giving 
 way to the strongest temptation that can be- 
 wilder the heart of man; to see this noble 
 creature flung to the savage beast, dying in 
 tortures, torn piecemeal before my eyes, and 
 this misery wrought by me, — I would have 
 obtested earth and heaven to save him. But 
 my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth. 
 My limbs refused to stir. I would have 
 thrown myself at the feet of Nero; but I sat 
 like a man of stone, pale, paralysed — the 
 
 beating of my pulses stopped — my eyes alone 
 alive. 
 
 The gate of the den was thrown back, and 
 the lion rushed in with a roar, and a bound 
 that bore him half across the arena. I saw 
 the sword glitter in the air: when it waved 
 again it was covered with blood. A howl 
 told that the blow had been driven home. 
 The lion, one of the largest from Numidia, 
 and made furious by thirst and hunger, an 
 animal of prodigious power, couched for an 
 instant as if to make sure of his prey, crept a 
 few paces onward, and sprang at the victim’s 
 throat. He was met by a second wound, but 
 his impulse was irresistible ; and Constantius 
 was flung upon the ground. A cry of natu- 
 ral horror rang round the amphitheatre. The 
 struggle was now for instant life or death. 
 They rolled over each other ; the lion reared 
 on its hind feet, and, with gnashing teeth and 
 distended talons, plunged on the man; again 
 they rose together. Anxiety was now at its 
 wildest height. The sword swung round the 
 champion’s head in bloody circles. They fell 
 again, covered with gore and dust. The hand 
 of Constantius had grasped the lion’s mane, 
 and the furious bounds of the monster could 
 not loose the hold ; but his strength was evi- 
 dently giving way : he still struck terrible 
 blows, but each was weaker than the one be- 
 fore ; till collecting his whole force for a last 
 effort, he darted one mighty blow into the 
 lion’s throat, and sank. The savage yelled, 
 and spouting out blood, fled howling round 
 the arena. But the hand still grasped the 
 mane, and his conqueror was dragged whirl- 
 ing through the dust at his heels. A univer- 
 sal outcry now arose to save him, if he were 
 not already dead. But the lion, though bleed- 
 ing from every vein, was still too terrible ; 
 and all shrank from the hazard. At length 
 the grasp gave way, and the body lay motion- 
 less upon the giound. 
 
 What happened for some moments after, 
 
 I know not. There was a struggle at the 
 portal ; a female forced her way through the 
 guards, rushed in alone, and flung herself 
 upon the victim. The sight of a new prey 
 roused the lion: he tore the ground with his 
 talons; he lashed his streaming sides with ! 
 his tail; he lifted up his mane and bared his 
 fangs. But his approach was no longer with 
 a bound ; he dreaded the swo-rd, and came 
 snuffing the blood on the sand, and stealing 
 round the body in circuits still diminishing. 
 
 The confusion in the vast assemblage was 
 now extreme. Voices innumerable called 
 for aid. Women screamed and fainted; men I 
 burst out into indignant clamors at this pro- 
 longed cruelty. Even the hard hearts of the 
 populace, accustomed as they were to the sa- 
 crifice of life, were roused to honest curses. 
 The guards grasped their arms and waited s 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 65 
 
 but for a sign from the emperor. But Nero 
 gave no sign. 
 
 I looked upon the woman’s face. It was 
 Salome ! I sprang upon my feet. I called 
 on her name; I implored her by every feeling 
 of nature to fly from that place of death, to 
 come to my arms, to think of the agonies of 
 all that loved her. 
 
 She had raised the head of Constantius, on 
 her knee, and was wiping the pale visage with 
 her hair. At the sound of my voice she looked 
 up, and calmly casting back the locks from her 
 forehead, fixed her gaze upon me. She still 
 knelt ; one hand supported the head, with the 
 other she pointed to it, as her only answer. 1 
 again adjured her. There was the silence of 
 death among the thousands round me. A fire 
 flashed into her eye— her cheek burned. She 
 waved her hand with an air of superb sorrow. 
 
 “I am come to die,” she uttered, in a lofty 
 tone. “ This bleeding body was my husband. 
 I have no father. The world contains to me 
 but this clay in my arms. Yet,” and she 
 kissed the ashy lips before her, “ yet, my Con- 
 stantius, it was to save that father, that your 
 generous heart defied the peril of this hour. 
 It was to redeem him from the hand of evil, 
 that you abandoned our quiet home ! yes, 
 
 cruel father, here lies the noble being that 
 threw open your dungeon, that led you safe 
 through conflagration, that to the last mo- 
 ment of his liberty only thought how he 
 might serve and protect you.” Tears at 
 length fell in floods from her eyes. “ But,” 
 said she, in a tone of wild power, “ he was 
 betrayed ; and may the power whose thunders 
 avenge the cause of his people pour down just 
 retribution upon the head that dared ” 
 
 I heard my own condemnation about to be pronounc- 
 ed by the lips of my child. Wound up to the last 
 degree of suffering, I tore my hair, leaped on the bars 
 before me, and plunged into the arena by her side. 
 The height stunned me; I tottered forward a few paces, 
 and fell. The lion gave a roar, and sprang "upon me. 
 I lay helpless under him. T felt his fiery breath — I saw 
 his lurid eye glaring — 1 heard the gnashing of his white 
 
 fangs above me an exulting shout arose. I saw 
 
 him reel as if struck: — gore filled his jaws; — another 
 mighty blow was driven to his heart. He sprang high 
 in the air with a howl. He dropped; he was dead. 
 The amphitheatre thundered with acclamation. 
 
 With Salome clinging to my bosom, Constantiue 
 raised me from the ground. The roar of the lion haa 
 roused him from his swoon, and two blows saved me. 
 The falchion was broken in the heart of the monster. 
 The whole multitude stood up, supplicating for our 
 lives in the name of filial piety and heroism. Nero, 
 devil as he was, dared not resist the strength of the 
 popular feeling. He waved a signal to the guards , the 
 portal was opened ; and my children sustaining my 
 feeble steps, and showered with garlands and ornaments 
 from innumerable hands, slowly led me from the 
 arena. • 
 
 VIEW OF JERUSALEM FROM THE WEST. 
 
 Her gold is dim, and mute her music’s voice 
 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 
 
 Thy cross thou bearest now ! 
 
 An iron yoke is on thy neck, 
 
 And blood is on thy brow ; 
 
 ; The Heathen o'er her perish’d pomp rejoice. 
 The golden crown, the crown of Truth, 
 Thou didst reject as dross, 
 
 And now thv cross is on thee laid. 
 
 The Crescent is thy cross. 
 
66 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 The first rage of the persecution was at an 
 end. The popular thirst for blood was satia- 
 ted. The natural admiration that follows for- 
 titude and innocence, and the natural hatred 
 that consigns a tyrant to the execration of his 
 time and of posterity, found their way ; and 
 Nero dared murder no more. J had volunta- 
 rily shared the prison of Constantius and my 
 child. Its doors were set open. The liber- 
 ality of my people supplied the means of re- 
 turning to Judea, and we hastened down the 
 Tiber in the first vessel that spread her sails 
 from this throne of desolation. The chances 
 that had brought us together were easily ex- 
 plained. Salome, urged to desperation by the 
 near approach of her marriage, and solicited 
 to save herself from the perjury of vowing 
 her love to a man unpossessed of her heart, 
 flew with Constantius to Caesarea. The only 
 person in their confidence was the domestic 
 who betrayed me into the hands of the procu- 
 rator, and who assisted them only that he 
 might lure me from home. At Caesarea they 
 were married, and remained in concealment 
 under the protection of the young Septimius. 
 My transmission to Rome struck them with 
 terror, and Constantius instantly embarked to 
 save me by his Italian influence. The at- 
 tempt, was surrounded with peril ; but Salome 
 would not be left behind. Disguised, to avoid 
 my possible refusal of life at his hands, he 
 followed me step by step. There were many 
 of our people among the attendants, and even 
 in the higher offices of the court. The 
 empress had, in her reproaches to Nero, dis- 
 closed the new barbarity of my sentence. — 
 No time was to be lost. Constantins, at the 
 imminent hazard of life, entered the palace. 
 He saw the block already erected in the gar- 
 den before the window where Nero sat invent- 
 ing a melody which was to grace my depar- 
 ture. The confusion of the fire allowed the 
 only escape. I was the witness of his con- 
 sternation when he made so many fruitless 
 efforts to penetrate to the place where Salome 
 remained in the care of his relatives. When 
 I scaled the burning mansion, he desperately 
 followed, lost his way among the ruins, and 
 was giving up all hope, when wrapt in fire 
 and smoke, Salome fell at his feet. He bore 
 her to another mansion of his family. It had 
 given shelter to the chief Christians. They 
 were seized ; his young wife scorned to sur- 
 vive Constantius ; and chance and my own 
 fortunate desperation alone saved me from 
 seeing their martyrdom. 
 
 We returned to Judea. In the first em- 
 brace of my family all was forgotten and for- 
 given. My brother rejoiced in Salome’s hap- 
 
 piness ; and even her rejected kinsman, 
 through all his reluctance, acknowledged the 
 claims of the man to the daughter’s hand, 
 who had saved the life of the father. 
 
 What perception of health is ever so ex- 
 quisite, as when we first rise from the bed 
 of sickness 1 What enjoyment of the heart 
 is so full of delight, as that which follows ex- 
 treme suffering] I had but just escaped the 
 most formidable personal hazards; I had es- 
 caped the still deeper suffering of seeing ruin 
 fall on beings, whom I would have died to 
 rescue. Salome’s heart, overflowing with 
 happiness, gave new brightness to her eyes, 
 and new atlimation to her lovely form. She 
 danced with involuntary joy ; she sang, she 
 laughed ; her fancy kindled into a thousand 
 sparklings. Beautiful being! in my visions 
 thou art still before me: I clasp thee to my 
 widowed heart, and hear thy sweet voice, 
 sweeter than the fountain in the desert to the 
 pilgiim, cheering me in the midst of my more 
 than pilgrimage ! 
 
 An accession of opulence gave the only in- 
 crease, if increase could be given, to the 
 happiness that seemed within my reach. The 
 year of Jubilee arrived. Abolished as the 
 chief customs of Judea had been by the weak- 
 ness and guilt of idolatrous kings and gene- 
 rations, they were still observed by all who 
 honored the faith of their fathers. The law 
 of Jubilee was sacred in our mountains. It 
 was the law of a wisdom and benevolence 
 above man. 
 
 Its peculiar adaptation to Israel, its provi- 
 sion for the virtue and happiness of the indi- 
 vidual, and its safeguard of the public strengh 
 and constitutional integrity, were unrivalled 
 among the finest ordinances of the ancient 
 world. 
 
 On the entrance of the Israelites into Ca- 
 naan, the land was divided, by the inspired 
 ordinance, among the tribes, according to 
 their numbers. Toeach family a pottion was 
 given, as a gift from heaven. This gift was 
 to be unalienable. The estate might be sold 
 for a period : but at the fiftieth year, in the 
 evening of the day of atonement, in the month 
 Tisri, the sound of the Trumpets from the 
 sanctuary, echoed by thousands from every 
 mountain top, proclaimed the Jubilee. Then 
 returned every family to its original posses- 
 sions. All the more abject degrauations of 
 poverty, the wearing out of families, the hope- 
 less ruin, were obviated by this great law. — • 
 The most undone being in the limits of Judea 
 had still a hold in the land. His ruin could 
 not be final, perhaps could not extend beyond 
 a few years; in the last extremity he could 
 not be scorned as one whose birth-right was 
 extinguished; the Jubilee was to raise him 
 up, and place the outcast on the early rank of 
 the sons of Israel. All the higher feelings 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 were cherished oy this incomparable hope. — 
 The man, conscious of his future possession, 
 retained the honorable pride of property un- 
 der the sternest privations. The time was 
 hurrying on, when he should stand on an 
 equality with mankind, when his worn spirit 
 should begin the world again with fresh vig- 
 or, if he were young ; or when he should sit 
 under the vine and fig tree of his fathers, if 
 his age refused again to struggle for the dis- 
 tinctions of the world. 
 
 The agrarian laws of Rome and Sparta, 
 feeble efforts to establish this true foundation 
 of personal and political vigor, showed at 
 once the natural desire, and the weakness, of 
 human wisdom. The Roman plunged the 
 people in furious dissentions, and perished al- 
 most in its birth. The Spartan was secured 
 for a time only by batbarian prohibitions of 
 money and commerce — a code which raised 
 an iron wall against civilization, turned the 
 people into a perpetual soldiery, and finally, 
 by the mere result of perpetual war, over- 
 threw liberty, dominion, and name. 
 
 The Jubilee was for a peculiar people, re- 
 stricted by a divine interposition from increase 
 beyond the original number. But who shall 
 say how far the same benevolent’interposition 
 might not have been extended to all nations, 
 if they had revered the original compact of 
 heaven with man 1 how far through the earth 
 the provisions for each man’s wants might 
 have been secured ; the overwhelming super- 
 abundance of beggared and portionless life 
 that fills the world with crime, have been re- 
 strained ; and tyranny, that growth of desper- 
 ate abjectness of the understanding, and gross 
 corruption of senses, have been repelled by 
 manly knowledge and native virtue! But 
 the time may come ! 
 
 In the first allotments of the territory, am- 
 ple domains had been appointed for the princes 
 and leaders of the tribes. One of those 
 princedoms now returned to me, and I entered 
 upon the inheritance of the leaders of Naph- 
 tali, a large extent of hill and valley, rich 
 with corn, olive, and vine. The antiquity of 
 possession gave a kind of hallowed and mon- 
 umental interest to the soil. I was master 
 of its wealth ; but I indulged a loftier feeling 
 in the recollection of those who had trod the 
 palace and the bower before me. Every 
 apartment bore the trace of those whom from 
 boyhood I had reverenced ; every fountain, 
 every tree was familiar to me from the strong 
 impressions of infancy ; and often when in 
 some of the fragrant evenings of spring I 
 have flung inyseTf among the thick beds of 
 bloom, that spread spontaneously over my hills, 
 the spirits of the loved and honored seemed 
 to gather round me. I saw once more the 
 matron gravity, the virgin grace ; even the 
 more remote generations, those great progen- 
 
 itors who with David fought the Philistine ; 
 the solemn chieftains, who with Joshua fol- 
 lowed the ark of the covenant through toil 
 and battle into the promised land ; the sainted 
 sages who witnessed the giving of the law, 
 and in the midst of the idolatry of the people 
 worshiped Him who spake in thunder from 
 Sinai ; all moved before me, for all had trod 
 the very ground on which I gazed. Could 
 I transfer myself back to their time, on 
 that spot I should stand among a living 
 circle of heroic and glorious beings, before 
 whose true glory the pomps of earth were 
 vain ; the hearers of the prophets, prophets 
 themselves ; the servants of the hand of mira- 
 cle, the companions of the friend of God ; nay, 
 distinction that surpasses human thought, 
 themselves the chosen of heaven. 
 
 The cheering occupations of rural life were 
 to be henceforth pursued on a scale more fit- 
 ting my rank. I was the first chieftain of my 
 tribe, the man by whose wisdom multitudes 
 were to be guided, and by whose benevolence 
 multitudes were to be sustained. I felt that 
 mingled sense of rank and responsibility 
 which, with the vain, the ignorant, or the vi- 
 cious, is the strongest temptation to excess; 
 but with the honorable and the educated, con- 
 stitutes the most pleasurable and elevated 
 state of the human mind. 
 
 Yet what are the fortunes of man, but a 
 ship launched on an element whose essence 
 is restlessness 1 The very wind, without 
 which we cannot move, gathers to a storm, 
 and we are undone ! The tyranny of our con- 
 querors had for a few T months been paralyzed 
 by the destruction of Rome. But the gover- 
 nor of Judea was not to be long withheld, 
 where plunder allured the most furious rapa- 
 city that perhaps ever hungered in the heart 
 of man. I was in the midst of our harvest, 
 surrounded with the fruitage of the year, and 
 enjoying the sights and sounds of patriarchal 
 life, when I received the formidable summons 
 to present myself again before Florus. Im- 
 prisonment and torture were in the command. 
 He had heard of my opulence, and I knew 
 how little his insolent cupidity would regard 
 the pardon under which I had returned. I 
 determined to retire into the mountains. But 
 the Roman plunderer had the activity of his 
 countrymen. On the very night of my re- 
 ceiving the summons, I was roused from sleep 
 by the outcries of the retainers, 'who in that 
 season of heat lay in the open air around the 
 palace.\ I started from my bed only to see 
 with astonishment the courtyards filled with 
 cavalry, galloping in pursuit of the few pea- 
 sants who still fought for their lord. There 
 was no time to be lost ; the torches were al- 
 ready in the hands of the soldiery, and I must 
 be taken, or burnt alive. Constantius was 
 instantly at my side. I ordered the trumpet 
 
68 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 to be sounded on the hills, and we rushed out 
 together, spear in hand. The Romans, 
 alarmed by resistance, where they had count- 
 ed upon capture without a blow, fell back. 
 The interval was fatal. Their retreat was 
 intercepted by the whole body of peasantry, 
 effectually roused. The scythe and reaping- 
 hook were deadly weapons to horsemen 
 cooped up between walls, and in midnight. 
 No efforts of mine could stop the havoc, 
 when once the fury of my people was roused. 
 A few escaped, who had broken wildly away 
 in the first onset. The rest were left to cover 
 the avenues with the first sanguinary offer- 
 ings of the final war of Judea. 
 
 I felt that this escape could be but tempo- 
 rary ; for the Roman pride and policy never 
 forgave until the slightest stain of defeat was 
 wiped away. All was consternation in my 
 family ; and the order for departure, whatever 
 tears it cost, found no opposition. In a few 
 hours our camels and mules were loaded, 
 our horses caparisoned, and we were prepar- 
 ed to quit the short-lived pomp of the house 
 of my fathers. Constantius alone did not ap- 
 pear. This noble minded being had won 
 even upon me, until I considered him as the 
 substitute for my lost son, and I would have 
 run the last hazard rather than leave him to 
 the Roman mercy. With the women the in- 
 terest was expressed by a declared resolution 
 not to leave the spot until he was found. The 
 caravan was broken up, and all desire of escape 
 at an end. 
 
 At the close of a day of search through 
 every defile of the country, he was seen re- 
 turning at the head of some peasants bearing 
 a body on a litter. I flew to meet him. He 
 was in deep affliction, and drawing off a 
 mantle which covered the face, he shewed 
 me Septimius. “In the flight of the Romans,” 
 said he, “ I saw a horseman making head 
 against a crowd. His voice caught my ear. 
 I rushed forward to save him, and he burst 
 through the circle at full speed. But by the' 
 light of the torches I could perceive that he 
 was desperately wounded. W hen day broke, 
 I tracked him by his blood. His horse, gash- 
 ed with scythes, at last fell under him. I 
 found my unfortunate friend lying senseless 
 beside a rill, to which he had crept for 
 water.” 
 
 Tears fell from his eyes as he told the 
 brief story. I too remembered the generous 
 interposition of the youth, and when I looked 
 upon the paleness of those fine Italian fea- 
 tures, that I had so lately seen lighted up 
 with living spirit, and in the midst of a scene 
 of regal luxury, I felt a pang for the uncer- 
 tainty of human things. But the painful part 
 of the moral was spared us. The young 
 Roman’s wounds were stanched, and in an 
 enemy and a Roman I found the means of 
 
 paying a debt of gratitude. His appearance 
 among the troops sent to seize me, had been 
 only a result of his anxiety to save the father 
 of his friends. He had accidentally discov- 
 ered the nature of the order, and hoped to 
 anticipate its execution. But he arrived only 
 in time to be involved in the confusion of the 
 flight. Pursued and wounded by the pea- 
 santry, he lost his way, and but for the gener- 
 ous perseverance of Constantius he must have 
 died. 
 
 The public information which he brought 
 was of the most important kind. In the 
 Roman Councils, the utter subjugation of 
 Judea was resolved on. The last spark of 
 national independence was to be extinguished, 
 though in the blood of the last native ; a 
 Roman colony established in our lands ; the 
 Roman worship introduced; and Jerusalem 
 profaned by a statue of Nero, and sacrifices 
 to him as a god, on the altar of the sanctuary. 
 To crush the resistance of the people, the 
 legions, to the amount of sixty thousand men, 
 were under orders from proconsular Asia, 
 Egypt, and Europe. The most distinguished 
 captain of the empire, Vespasian, was called 
 from Britain to the command, and the whole 
 military strength of Rome was prepared to 
 follow up the blow. 
 
 I summoned the chief men of the tribe, 
 and in a general meeting was invested with 
 the military command. My temperament 
 was warlike. The seclusion and studies of 
 my early life had but partially suppressed my 
 natural delight in the vividness of martial 
 achievement. But the cause that now sum- 
 moned me was enough to have kindled the 
 dullest peasant into the soldier. I had seen 
 the discipline of the enemy. I had made 
 myself master of their system of war. For- 
 tifications wherever a stone could be piled 
 upon a hill; provisions laid up in large quan- 
 tities wherever they could be secure; small 
 bodies of troops, practised in manoeuvre, and 
 perpetually in motion between the fortresses; 
 a general basis of operations, to which all the 
 movements referred ; were the simple princi- 
 ples that had made them conquerors of the 
 world. I resolved to give them speedy proof 
 of their pupilage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 I felt that insurrection was to be no longer 
 avoided. Whatever was the consequence, 
 the sword must be unsheathed without delay. 
 With Eleazar and Constantius, I cast my eyes 
 over the map, and examined on what point 
 the first blow should fall. The proverbial 
 safety of a multitude of councillors, was ob- 
 viously neglected in the smallness of my 
 
Scilathiel. 
 
 69 
 
 council; vet, few as we were, we differed 
 upon every point but one, that of the certain- 
 ty 7 of our danger ; the promptitude of Roman 
 vengeance suffered no contest of opinion. 
 
 Eleazar, with a spirit as manly as ever 
 faced hazard, yet gave his voice for delay. 
 
 “ The sole hope of success,” said he, “ must 
 depend on rousing the popular mind. The 
 Roman troops are not to be beaten by any 
 regular army in the world. If we attack 
 them on the ordinary principles of war, the ] 
 result can only be defeat, slaughter in dun- 
 geons, and deeper slavery. If the nation can 
 be roused, numbers may prevail over disci- 
 pline; variety of attacks may distract science; 
 the desperate boldness of the insurgents may 
 at length exhaust the Roman fortitude ; and 
 a glorious peace will then restore the country 
 to that independence for which my life would 
 be a glad and ready sacrifice. But you must 
 first have the people with you, and for that 
 purpose you must have the leaders of the 
 people ” 
 
 “What!” interrupted 1, “ must we first 
 mingle in the cabals of Jerusalem, and rouse 
 the frigid debaters and disputers of the San- 
 hedrim into action 1 Are we first to conci- 
 liate the irreconcilable, to soften the furious, 
 to purify the corrupt! If the Romans are to 
 be our tyrants till we can teach patriotism to 
 faction ; we may as well build the dungeon at 
 once, for to the dungeon we are consigned 
 for the longest life among us. Death or glory 
 for me. There is no alternative between, 
 not merely the half slavery that we now live 
 in and independence, but between the most 
 condign suffering and the most illustrious 
 security. If the people would rise, through 
 the pressure of public injury, they must have 
 risen long since ; if from private violence, 
 what town, what district, what family, has 
 not its claims of deadly retribution ! Yet 
 here the people stand, after a hundred years 
 of those continued stimulants to resistance, 
 as unresisting as in the day when Pompey 
 marched over the threshold of the Temple. 
 I know your generous friendship, Eleazar, 
 and fear that your anxiety to save me from 
 the chances of the struggle, may bias your 
 better judgment. But here I pledge myself, 
 by all that constitutes the honor of man, to 
 strike at all risks a blow upon the Roman 
 crest that shall echo through the land. W 7 hat ! 
 commit our holy cause into the nursing of 
 those pampered hypocrites whose utter base- 
 ness of heart you know still more deeply than 
 I do! Linger, till those pestilent profligates 
 raise their price with Florus by betraying a 
 design that will be the glory of every man 
 who draws a sword in it! vainly, madly, ask 
 a brood that, like the serpent, engender and 
 fatten among the ruins of their country, to 
 discard their venom, to cast their fangs, to 
 
 feel for human feelings! As well ask the 
 j serpent itself to rise from the original curse. 
 
 1 It is the irrevocable nature of faction to be 
 '.base, till it can be mischievous; to lick the 
 dust until it can sting; to creep on its belly 
 until it can twist its (bids around the victim. 
 No! let the old pensionaries, the bloated 
 Tangers-on in the train of every governor, 
 
 ! the open sellers of their country for filthy 
 lucre, betray me when I leave it in their 
 j power. To the field I say, once and for all, 
 to the field.” 
 
 My mind was fevered by the perplexity of 
 the time, and was at no period patient of con- 
 tradiction. I was about to leave the cham- 
 ber, when Constantius gravely stopped me. 
 
 “ My father,” said he, with a voice calmer 
 than his countenance, “ you have hurt our 
 noble kinsman’s feelings. It is not in an 
 hour when our unanimity may fail, that we 
 should suffer dissensions between those whose 
 hearts are alike embarked in this great cause. 
 Let tne mediate between you.” 
 
 He led Eleazar back from the casement to 
 which he had withdrawn to cool his blood, 
 burning with the offence of my language. 
 “ Eleazar is right. The Romans are irresis- 
 tible by any force short of the whole people. 
 They have the full military possession of the 
 country. All your fortresses, all your posts, 
 all your passes ; they are as familiar as you 
 are with every defile, mountain, and marsh ; 
 they surround you with conquered provinces 
 on the north, east, and south ; your western 
 barrier is open to them, while it is shut to 
 you ; the sea is the high road of their armies, 
 while at their first forbidding you dare not 
 launch a galley between Libanus and Idu- 
 mea. Nothing can counterbalance this local 
 superiority but the rising of your whole peo- 
 ple.” 
 
 “But are we to intrigue with the talkers 
 in Jerusalem for this!” interrupted I; “What 
 less than a descended thunderbolt could rouse 
 them to a sense, that there is even a Heaven 
 above them !” 
 
 “ Yet we must have them with us,” said 
 Constantius, “ for we must have all. Uni- 
 versality is the spirit of an insurrectionary 
 war. If I were commander of a revolt, I 
 should feel greater confidence of success at 
 the head of a single province, in which every 
 human being from boyhood upwards was 
 against the enemy, than at the head of an 
 empire partially in arms. The mind even 
 of the rudest spearsman is a great portion of 
 him. The boldest shrinks from the conscious- 
 ness that hostility is on all sides, that whether 
 marching or at rest, watching or sleeping, 
 by night or by day, enmity concealed or visi- 
 ble is round him ; that it is in the very air he 
 breathes, in the very food he eats, that he can 
 never feel for a moment secure ; that every 
 
70 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 face lie sees, is the face of one who wishes I 
 him dead ; that every knife, even every trivial 
 instrument of human use, maybe turned into 
 a shedder of his blood. Those tilings perpe- 
 tually confronting his mind, break it down ; 
 he grows reckless, miserable, undisciplined, 
 and a dastard.” 
 
 “ But,” observed Eleazar, “the sufferings 
 of the troops are seldom allowed to affect 
 the generals. And to men who have no ob- 
 ject but conquest and plunder, the constant 
 robbery of an insurrectionary war, must ren- 
 der it a favorite command.” 
 
 “ Let me speak from experience,” said Con- 
 stantius : “Two years ago I was attached 
 with a squadron of galleys to the expedition 
 against the tribes of Mount Taurus. While 
 the galleys wintered in Cyprus, I followed 
 the troops up the hills. No language can 
 describe tne -discontent even of that most un- 
 murmuring of all armies, a Roman army. 
 Nothing had been omitted that could counte- 
 ract the severity of the season. Tents, pro- 
 visions, clothing adapted to the hills, even 
 luxuries despatched from the islands, gave 
 the camps almost the indulgences of cities. 
 The physical hardships of the campaign were 
 trivial, compared with those of hundreds, in 
 which the Romans had beaten regular ar- 
 mies. Yet the discontent was indescribable, 
 from the perpetual and unrelaxing alarms of 
 the service. The mountaineers were not 
 numerous, they were but half armed, disci- 
 plined they were not at all. A Roman cen- 
 turion would have out-manoeuvred all their 
 captains. But they were brave, they knew 
 nothing but to kill or to be killed, and it made 
 no difference to them whether death did his 
 work by night or by day. Sleep was scarce- 
 ly possible. To sit down on a march, was to 
 be levelled at by a score of arrows; to pur- 
 sue the archers, was to be lured into some 
 hollow, where a fragment of the rock above, 
 or a felled tree was ready to crush the heavy 
 legionaries. We chased them from hill to 
 hill; we might as well have chased the vul- 
 tures and eagles, that duly followed us, with 
 the perfect certainty of not being disappoint- 
 ed of tjaeir meal. Wherever the enemy 
 showed themselves, they were beaten, but 
 our victory was totally fruitless. The next] 
 turn of the mountain road was a strong hold 
 from which we had to expect a new storm of 
 arrows, lances, and fragments of rocks. The 
 mountaineers always had a retreat. If we. 
 drove them from the pinnacles of the hills, ! 
 they were in a moment in the valleys, where 
 we must follow them at the risk of falling 
 down precipices and being swallowed up by 
 torrents, in which the strongest swimmer in 
 the legions could not live for a moment. If j 
 we drove them from the valleys, we saw ' 
 them scaling the mountains as if they wore I 
 
 wings, and scoffing at our tardy and helpless 
 movements, encumbered as we were with 
 baggage and armor. We at length forced 
 our way through the mountain range, and 
 when with the loss of half the army we had 
 reached their citadel, we found that the work 
 was to be begun again. To remain where 
 we were, was to be starved ; we had defeated 
 the barbarians, but they were as unconquered 
 as ever, and our only resource was to retrace 
 our steps, which we did at the expense of a 
 battle every morning, noon, evening, and 
 night, with a ruinous losg of lives, and the 
 total abandonment of every thing in the shape 
 of baggage. The defeat was of course hushed 
 up ; and according to the old Roman policy, 
 the escape was colored to a victory ; I had 
 the honor of carrying back the general into 
 Italy, where he was decreed an Ovation, a 
 laurel crown, and a crowd of the usual dis- 
 tinctions; but the triumph belonged to the 
 men of the mountains; and till our campaign 
 is forgotten, no Roman officer will look tor 
 his laurels in Mount Taurus again.” 
 
 “ Such for ever be the fate of wars against 
 the natural freedom of the brave,” said I : 
 “ but the Cicilians had the advantage of an 
 almost impenetrable country. Three-fourths 
 of Judea are already in the enemy’s posses- 
 sion.” 
 
 “No country in which man can exist, can 
 be impenetrable to an invading army,” was 
 the reply: “Natural defences are trifling 
 before the vigor and dexterity of man. The 
 true barrier is in the hearts of the defenders. 
 We were masters of the whole range. We 
 could not find a thousand men assembled on 
 any one point. Yet we were not the actual 
 possessors of a mile of ground beyond the 
 square of our camp. We never saw a day 
 without an attack, nor ever lay down at night 
 without the certainty of being started from 
 our sleep by some fierce attempt at a surprise. 
 It was this perpetual anxiety that broke the 
 spirits of the troops. All was in hostility to 
 them. They felt that there was not a secure 
 spot within the horizon. Every man whom 
 they saw, they knew to be one who either 
 had drawn Roman blood, or who longed in 
 his inmost soul to draw it. They dared not 
 pass by a single rock without a search for a 
 lurking enemy. Even a felled tree might 
 conceal some daring savage, who was content 
 to die on the Roman spears, after having flung 
 his unerring lance among the ranks, or shot 
 an arrow that went through the thickest cors- 
 let. I have seen the boldest of the legiona- 
 ries sink on the ground in absolute exhaustion 
 of heart, with this hopeless and wearying 
 warfare. I have seen men with muscles as 
 strong as iron, weep like children, through 
 mere depression. With the harsher spirits, 
 all was execration and bitterness, even to 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 71 
 
 the verge of mutiny. With the more gen- 
 erous, all was regret at the waste of honor, 
 mingled with involuntary admiration of the 
 barbarians who thus defied the haughty cour-, 
 age and boasted discipline of the conquerors] 
 of mankind. The secret spring of their re- 
 sistance, was its universality. Every man 
 was embarked in the common cause. There 
 was no room for evasion, under cover of a 
 party disposed to peace : there was no Roman 
 interest among the people, in which timidity 
 or selfishness could take refuge. The na- 
 tional cause had not a lukewarm friend : the 
 invaders had not a dubious enemy. The line 
 was drawn with the sword, and the cause of 
 national independence triumphed, as it ought 
 to triumph.” 
 
 “ But we are a people split into as many 
 varieties of opinion, as there are provinces 
 or even villages in Judea,” observed Eleazar. 
 
 “ The Jew loves to follow the opinions of the 
 head of his family, the chief man of his tribe, 
 or even of the priest, who has long exercised 
 an influence over his district. We have not 
 the slavishness of the Asiatic, but we still 
 want the personal choice of the European. 
 We must secure the leaders, if we would se- 
 cure the people.” 
 
 “ Men,” said Constantins, “ are intrinsical- 
 ly the same in every climate under heaven. 
 They will all hate hazard, where nothing but 
 hazard is to be gained. They will all linger 
 for ages in slavery, where the taskmaster has 
 the policy to avoid sudden violence ; but they 
 will all encounter the severest trials, where 
 in the hour of injury, they find a leader, pre- 
 pared to guide them to honor.” 
 
 “ And to that extent they shall have trial 
 of me,” I exclaimed : “Before another Sab- 
 bath, I shall make the experiment of my fit- 
 ness to be the leader of my countrymen. If 
 I fail, none but myself will suffer: if I suc- 
 ceed, Judea shall be what she was before the 
 foot of the Italian stained her sacred territory. 
 But no parleying for me with the dotards and 
 slaves of Jerusalem. At the head of my own 
 tribe, 1 will march to the city, before the 
 enemy can be aware of my purpose, seize 
 upon the garrison, and from Herod’s palace, 
 from the very chair of the Procurator, will I 
 at once silence the voice of faction, clamor 
 as it may ; and lift the banner to the tribes of 
 Israel.” 
 
 “ Nobly conceived,” said Constantius, his 
 countenance glowing with animation, “blow 
 upon blow is the true tactic of an insurrec- 
 tionary war. We must strike at once, sud- 
 denly and fatally. The sword of him who 
 would triumph in a revolt, must not merely 
 sound on the enemy’s helmet, but cut through 
 
 “ But to Jerusalem,” said Eleazar, “ the 
 objections are palpable. The Roman cohorts 
 
 fully garrison the castles. The city would 
 be out of hope of a surprise, would be difficult 
 to capture, and beyond all chance to keep. 
 The whole force of the legions would be 
 directed upon it ; and if the revolt failed 
 there, it must be without resource in the 
 land.” 
 
 “Ever tardy, thwarting, and contradicto- 
 ry,” I exclaimed. “If the Roman sceptre 
 lay under my heel, I should find Eleazar for- 
 bidding me to crush it. My mind is fixed ; I 
 will hear no more.” I started from my seat, 
 and paced the room. Eleazar approached 
 me : “ My brother,” said he, “ holding out 
 his hand with a forgiving smile, “we must 
 not differ. I honor your heart, Salathiel ; I 
 know your talents ; there is not a man in Ju- 
 dea, whom I should be prouder to see at the 
 head of its councils. I agree with you, that 
 a blow should be struck, an instant and a 
 deadly blow ; and now I offer you myself and 
 every man whom I can influence, to follow 
 you to the last extremity. The only ques- 
 tion is, where the blow is to fall.” 
 
 Constantius had been gazing on the chart 
 of Judea, which lay between us on the table. 
 “ If it be our object,” said he, “ to combine 
 injury to the Romans with actual advantage 
 to ourselves, to make a trial where failure 
 cannot be ruinous, and where success maybe 
 of measureless value, here is the spot.” He 
 pointed to Masada. 
 
 The fortress of Masada was built by Herod 
 the Great, as his principal magazine of arms. 
 A gallant and successful soldier, one of his 
 luxuries was the variety and costliness of his 
 weapons, and the royal armory of Masada 
 was renowned throughout Asia. Pride in 
 the possession of such a trophy, probably aided 
 by some reverence for the memory of the 
 friend of Caesar and Anthony, whom the le- 
 gions still almost worshipped as tutelar genii, 
 originally saved it from the usual Roman 
 spoliation. But no native foot was permitted 
 to enter the armory, and mysterious stories 
 of the sights and sounds of those splendid 
 halls, filled the ears of the people. Masada 
 was held to be the talisman of the Roman 
 power ovpr Judea, by more than the people ; 
 the belief had made its way among the le- 
 gions ; and no capture could be a bolder omen 
 of the war. 
 
 I still preferred the more direct blow on 
 Jerusalem ; and declaimed on the vital im- 
 portance on all wars, of seizing on the capi- 
 tal. But I was controlled. Eleazar’s grave 
 wisdom, and the science of Constantius, de- 
 prived me of argument; and the attack on 
 Masada w’as finally planned before we left 
 the chamber. Nothing could be more primi- 
 tive than our plan for the siege of the most 
 scientific fortification in Judea, crowded with 
 men, and furnished with every implement 
 
72 
 
 Salathicl. 
 
 and machine of war that Roman experience 
 could supply. Our simple preparations were 
 a few ropes for ladders, a few hatchets for 
 cutting! down gates and palisadoes, and a few 
 faggots for setting on fire what we could. 
 Five hundred of our tribe, who had never 
 thrown a lance but in hunting, formed our 
 expedition; and, .at the head of those, Con- 
 stantius, who claimed the exploit by the right 
 of discovery, was to march at dusk, conceal 
 himself in the forests during the day, and on 
 the evening of his arrival within reach of the 
 fortress, attempt it by surprise. Eleazar was, 
 in the mean time, to rouse his retainers, and 
 I was to await at their head the result of 
 the enterprise, and if successful, unfurl the 
 standard of Naphtali, and advance on Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The rest of the memorable day lingered 
 on with a tardiness beyond description. The 
 future pressed on my mind with an intolera- 
 ble weight. The criminal who counts the 
 watches of the night before his execution, 
 has but a faint image of that fierce and yet 
 pining anxiety, that loathing of all things 
 unconnected with the one mighty event, 
 yet that dread of suffering it to dwell upon 
 his mind; the mixture of hopelessness and 
 hope, the sickly panting of the heart,’ the 
 tenfold and morbid nervousness of every 
 nerve in his frame ; which make up the sus- 
 pense of the conspirator in even the noblest 
 cause. 
 
 When the hour of banquet came, I sat 
 down in the midst of magnificence, as was 
 the custom of my rank ; the table was filled 
 with guests; all around me was gaiety and 
 pomp ; high-born men, handsome women, 
 richly attired attendants; plate, the work of 
 Tyrian and Greek artists, in its massive beau- 
 ty; walls covered with tissues; music filling 
 the air cooled by fountains of perfumed wa- 
 ters. I felt as little of them, as if 1 were in 
 the wilderness. The richest wines, the most 
 delicate fruits, palled on my taste. A heavi- 
 ness, an almost Lethean oblivion of all before 
 my eyes, closed up every feeling. If I had 
 one wish, it was that for the next forty-eight 
 hours oblivion might amount to insensibility ! 
 At my wife and daughters I ventured but 
 one glance. I thought that I had -never be- 
 fore seen them look so fitted to adorn their 
 rank, to be the models of grace, loveliness, 
 and honor to society ; and the thought smote 
 my heart in the midst of my contemplation ! 
 How soon all this may be changed! Will 
 another sunset find those lovely and beloved 
 beings here 1 May they not be fugitives and 
 
 beggars through the land, or, worse a thou- 
 sand rimes, be in the power of the Romani 
 And this is my doing. Here sit I, in the 
 midst of this innocent and happy circle, draw- 
 ing ruin upon their heads, and writing with 
 a cloudy hand the sentence of subversion 
 upon these joyous walls. Here sit I, like 
 the tempter in paradise — to involve in my 
 own destruction all that is pure and peaceful, 
 and confiding and happy ! With what terror 
 would they look upon me, if they could at 
 this instant see the evils that I am summon- 
 ! ing round them ! — “ if they could read but 
 my bosom ” 
 
 My eyes sought Constantins ; he had just 
 returned from his preparations, and came in 
 glowing with the enthusiasm of the soldier. 
 He sat down beside Salome, and his cheek 
 gradually turned of the hue of death. He 
 jsat, like myself, absorbed in frequent reverie; 
 and to the playful solicitations of Salome, 
 that he would indulge in the table after his 
 I fatigue, he gave forced smiles and broken 
 answers. The future was plainly busy with 
 us both: with all that the heart of man 
 1 could love beside him, he felt the pang of 
 contrast; and, when on accidentally lifting 
 his eyes they met mine, the single con- 
 scious look interchanged, told the bitter 
 perturbation that preyed on both to the heart’s 
 core. 
 
 I soon rose ; and under pretence of having 
 letters to despatch to our friends in Rome, 
 retired to my chamber. There lay the 
 chart still on the table, marked by the pencil 
 lines of the route to Masada. Heavens ! with 
 what breathlessness I traced every point and 
 bearing of it ! How eagerly I pursued the 
 mountain paths in which the movement 
 might be concealed ! how anxiously I marked 
 the spaces of open country in which it must 
 be exposed to the Roman eye ! But the 
 chart itself! There, within a space over 
 which 1 could stretch my arm, was my world ! 
 In that little boundary was I to struggle 
 against the supremacy that covered the earth ! 
 Those fairy hills, those scarcely visible rivers, 
 those remote cities, dots of human habitation, 
 were to be henceforth the places of siege and 
 battle, memorable for the destruction of hu- 
 man life ; engrossing every energy of the 
 mind and frame of myself and my country- 
 men ; and big with the fates of generations on 
 generations ! 
 
 i It was dusk ; and I was still devouring 
 I with my eyes this chart of prophecy, when 
 'Constantius entered. “I have come,” said 
 | he, gravely, “to bid you farewell for the 
 ' night. In two days I hope we shall all meet 
 I again.” 
 
 | “ No, my brave son,” I interrupted. “We 
 
 ! do not leave each other to-night.” 
 
 1 He looked surprised, “l must be gone 
 
Salathiei. 
 
 73 
 
 this instant. Eleazar has done his part with 
 the activity of his honest and manly mind. 
 Two miles off, in the valley under the date- 
 grove, I have left five hundred of the finest 
 fellow^ that ever sat a charger. In half an 
 hour JSirius rises; then we go, and then let 
 the governor of Masada look to it. Farewell, 
 and wish me good fortune.” 
 
 “ May every angel that protects the right- 
 eous cause hover above your head !” I ex- 
 claimed ; “ but, no farewell ; for we go 
 together.” 
 
 “ Do you doubt my conduct of 4he enter- 
 prise'!” pronounced he, strongly. “’Tistrue 
 I have been in the Roman service. But that 
 service I hated from the bottom of my soul. 
 I was a Greek ; and bound to Rome no longer 
 than she could hold me in her chain. If I 
 could have had men to follow me, I should 
 have done in Cyprus what I now do in Judea. 
 The countryman of Leonidas, Cimon, and 1 
 Timoleon, was not born to hug his slavery. I 
 am now a son of Judea ; to her my affections 
 have been transplated, and to her, if she does 
 not reject me, shall my means and my life be, 
 given !” 
 
 He relaxed the belt from his waist, and 
 flung it with his scimetar on the ground. I 
 lifted it, and gave it again to his hand. 
 
 “No, Constantius,” I replied. “I honor 
 your zeal, and would confide in you, if the 
 world hung upon the balance. But I cannot 
 bear the thought of lingering here, while you 
 are in the field. The misery of suspense is 
 intolerable. My mind, within those few 
 hours, has been on the rack. I must take the 
 chances with you.” 
 
 “It is utterly impossible,” was his firm 
 answer. “ Your absence would excite in- 
 stant suspicion. The Roman spies are every- 
 where. The natural result follows, that our 
 march would be intercepted; and I am not 
 sure, but that even now we may be too late. 
 That inconceivable sagacity by which the 
 Romans seem to be master of every man’s 
 secret, has been already at work ; troops 
 were seen on the route to Masada this very 
 day. Our horses may get before them ; but 
 if the garrison be reinforced, the expedition 
 is undone. But a still more immediate result 
 would be the destruction of all here. Let it 
 be known that the prince of Naphtali has left 
 his palace, and the dozen squadrons of Thra- 
 cian horse which I saw within those four 
 days at Tiberias, will be riding through your 
 domains before the next sunset.” 
 
 This reflection checked me. “Well then,” 
 said I, “go, and the protection of Him whose 
 pillar of cloud led his people through the sea 
 and through the desert, be your shelter and 
 your light in the day of peril !” 
 
 I pressed his hand; he turned to depart, 
 but came back ; and, after a slight hesitation,' 
 
 said — “ If Salome had once offended her 
 noble father by her flight, the offence was 
 mine. Forgive her; lor her heart is still the 
 heart of your child. She loves you. If I 
 fall, let the memory of our disobedience lie 
 in my grave!” — His voice stopped, and mine 
 could not break the silence. 
 
 “ Let what will come,” resumed he, with 
 an effort. “Tell Salome, that the last word 
 on my lips was her beloved name !” He left 
 the chamber, and I felt as if a portion of my 
 being had gone forth from me. 
 
 This day was one of the many festivals of 
 our country, and my halls echoed with sounds 
 of enjoyment. The immense gardens glit- 
 tered with illumination in all the graceful 
 devices, of which our people were such mas- 
 ters ; and when I looked out for the path of 
 Constantius, I was absolutely pained by the 
 sight of so much fantastic pleasure, while my 
 hero was pursuing his way through darkness 
 and solitude. 
 
 At length the festival was over. The 
 lights twinkled thinner among the arbors, the 
 sounds of glad voices sank, and I saw from 
 my casement the evidence of departure in 
 the trains of torches that moved up the sur- 
 rounding hill. The sight of a starlight sky 
 has always been to me among the softest and 
 surest healers of the heart ; and I gazed upon 
 that mighty scene which throws all human 
 cares into such littleness, until my composure 
 returned. 
 
 The last of the guests had left the palace 
 before I ventured to descend. The vases of 
 perfumes still breathed in the hall of the 
 evening banquet ; the alabaster lamps were 
 still burning ; but, excepting the attendants 
 who waited on my steps at a distance, and 
 whose figures might have been taken for 
 statues, there was not a living being near 
 me of the Inughingand joyous crowd that had 
 so lately glittered, danced, sported, and smiled, 
 within those sumptuous walls. Yet what 
 was this but a picture of the common rota- 
 tion of life! Or, by a yet more immediate 
 moral, what was it but a picture of the de- 
 sertion that might be coming upon me and 
 mine! 
 
 I sat down to extinguish my sullen philo- 
 sophy in wine. But no draught that ever 
 passed the lips could extinguish the low fever 
 that brooded on my spirit. I dreaded that 
 the presence of my family might force out 
 my heavy secret, and lingered, with my eyes 
 gazing without sight, on the costly covering 
 of the board. 
 
 A sound of music from an inner hall, to 
 which Miriam and her daughters had retired, 
 aroused me. I stood at the door, gazing on 
 the group within. The music was a hymn, 
 with which they closed the customary devo- 
 tions of the day. But there was something 
 
74 
 
 Salat hie/. 
 
 in its sound to me that I had never felt be- 
 fore. At the moment when those sweet 
 voices were pouring out the gratitude of 
 hearts as innocent and glowing as the hearts 
 of angels, a scene of horror might be acting. 
 The husband of Salome might be struggling 
 under the Roman swords; he might be lying 
 a corpse under the feet of the cavalry, that 
 before morn might bring the news of his 
 destruction in the flames that startled us 
 from our sleep, and the swords that pierced 
 our bosoms. 
 
 And what beings were those thus appoint- 
 ed for the sacrifice 1 The lapse of even a 
 few years had perfected the natural beauty 
 of my daughters. Salome’s sparkling eye 
 was more brilliant; her graceful form was 
 moulded into more easy elegance ; and her 
 laughing lip was wreathed with a more play- 
 ful smile. Never did I see a creature of 
 deeper witchery. My Esther, my noble and 
 dear Esther, who was, perhaps, the dearer 
 to me from her inheriting a tinge of my 
 melancholy, yet a melancholy exalted by 
 genius and ardor of soul into a charm, was 
 this night the leader of the song of holiness. 
 Her large uplifted eye glowed with the 
 brightness of one of the stars on which it 
 was fixed. Her hands fell on the harp in 
 almost the attitude of prayer; and the ex- 
 pression of her lofty and intellectual counte- 
 nance, crimsoned with the theme, told of a 
 communion with thoughts and beings above 
 mortality. The hymn was done; the voices 
 had ceased ; yet the inspiration still burned 
 in her soul : her hands still shook from the 
 chord’s harmonies, sweet, hut of the wildest 
 and boldest brilliancy ; bursts and flights of 
 sound, like the rushing of the distant water- 
 fall at night, or the solemn echoes and 
 mighty complainingS'of the forest in the first 
 swell of the storm. Miriam and Salome 
 sat beholding her in silent admiration and 
 Jove. 
 
 The magnificent dress of the Jewish fe- 
 male could not heighten the power of such 
 beauty. But it filled up the picture. The 
 jeweled tiaras, the embroidered shawls, the 
 high-wroug’ht and massive armlets, the silk- 
 en robes and sashes fringed with pearl and 
 diamond, the profusion of dazzling ornament 
 that makes the Oriental costume to this day, 
 were the true habits of the forms that then 
 sat unconscious of the delighted yet anxious 
 eye that drank in the joy of their presence. 
 
 I saw before me the pomp of princedoms, in- 
 vesting forms worthy of thrones. 
 
 My entrance broke off" the harper’s spell, 
 and L found it a hard task to answer the fond 
 inquiries and touching congratulations that 
 flowed upon me. But the hour waned, and 
 I was again left alone for the few minutes 
 which it was my custom to give to meditation : 
 
 before I retired to rest. I threw open the 
 low door that opened into a garden thick 
 with the Persian rose, and filling the air 
 with cool fragrance. At my first glance up- 
 wards I saw Sirius ; he was on the verge of 
 the horizon. The thoughts of the day again 
 gathered over my soul. I idly combined 
 the fate of Constantius with the decline of 
 the star that he had taken for his signal. My 
 senses lost their truth, or contributed to de- 
 ceive me. I fancied that I heard sounds of 
 conflict ; the echo of horses’ feet rang in my 
 ears. A meteor that slowly sailed across the 
 sky struck me as a supernatural summons. 
 My brain, fearfully excitable since my great 
 misfortune, at. length kindled up such strong 
 realities, that I found myself on the point of 
 betraying the burden of my spirit by some 
 palpable disclosure. 
 
 Twice had I reached the door of Miriam’s 
 chamber, to tell her my whole perplexity. 
 But 1 heard the voice of her attendants with- 
 in, and again shrank from the tale. I 
 ranged the long galleries, perplexed with ca- 
 pricious and strange torments of the imagi- 
 nation. 
 
 “ If he should fall,” said I, “ how shall I 
 atone for the cruelty of sending him upon a 
 service of such hopeless hazard — a few pea- 
 sants with naked breasts against Roman bat- 
 tlements ! What soldier would not ridicule 
 my folly in hoping success 1 What man 
 would not charge me with scorn of the life 
 of my kindred 1 The blood of my tribe will 
 be upon my head forever. The base will 
 take advantage of their fate to degrade my 
 name with the nation. The brave will dis- 
 dain him who sent others to the peril which 
 he dared not share. There sinks the prince 
 of Naphtali ! In the grave of my gallant son 
 and bis companions is buried my dream of 
 martial honor; the sword that strikes him 
 cuts to the ground my lost ambition of de- 
 livering my country.” 
 
 The advice of Constantius returned to my 
 mind, but, like the meeting of two tides, it 
 was only to increase the tumult within. I 
 felt the floor shake under my hurried tread. 
 I smote my forehead, it was covered with 
 drops of agony. The voices within my wife’s 
 chamber had ceased. But was I to rouse her 
 from her sleep, perhaps the last quiet sleep 
 that she was ever to take, only to hear intel- 
 ligence that must make her miserable 1 
 
 This reflection let in upon mo a new flood 
 of anxieties. “ If misfortune should come, 
 with what face shall I ever be able to look 
 upon my family, upon the daughter that I 
 have widowed, upon the wife, upon the child, 
 whose sorrow, even whose silence will tor- 
 ture me I And how long must I keep my 
 secret 1 For four days ! while I am scarcely 
 able to bear its suspense for an hour.” 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 75 
 
 I leaned my throbbing forehead upon one 
 of the marble tables, as if to imbibe coolness 
 from the stone. I felt a light hand upon 
 mine. Miriam stood beside me. “ Sala- 
 thiel !” pronounced she in an unshaken voice. 
 “There is something painful on your mind. 
 Whether it be only a duty on your part to 
 disclose it to me, I shall not say. But if you 
 think me fit to share your happier hours, 
 must I have the humiliation of feeling that I 
 am to be excluded from your confidence, in 
 the day when those hours may be darkened 1” 
 
 I was silent, for to speak was beyond my 
 strength, but I pressed her delicate fingers to 
 my bosom. 
 
 “Misfortune, my dear husband,” resumed 
 she, “is trivial, but when it reaches the 
 mind. Oh, rather let me encounter it in the 
 bitterest privations of poverty and exile ; ra- 
 ther let me be a nameless outcast to the latest 
 year‘1 have to live, than feel the bitterness 
 of being forgotten by the heart to which, 
 come life or death, mine is bound for ever 
 and ever.” 
 
 I glanced up at her. Tears dropped on 
 her cheeks ; but her voice was firm. “ I 
 have observed you,” says she, “ in deep agi- 
 tation during the day: but I forbore to press 
 you for the cause. I have listened now, till 
 long past midnight, to the sound of your feet, 
 to the sound of groans and pangs wrung from 
 your bosom; nay, to exclamations and broken 
 sentences, which have let me most involun- 
 tarily into the knowledge that this disturb- 
 ance arises from the state of our country. 1 
 know your noble nature, Salathiel ; and I say 
 to you, in this solemn and sacred hour of dan- 
 ger, follow the guidance of that noble nature.” 
 
 I cast my arms about her neck, and im- 
 printed a kiss as true as ever came from 
 human love upon her lips. She had taken a 
 weight from my soul. I detailed the whole 
 design to her. She listened with many a 
 change from red to pale, and many a tremor 
 of the white hand that lay in mine. When I 
 ceased, the woman in her broke forth in tears 
 and sighs. “ Yet,” said she, “you must go. 
 Perish the thought, that for the selfish desire 
 of looking even upon you in safety here, I 
 should hazard the dearer honor of my lord. 
 It is right that Judea should make the attempt 
 to shake off her tyranny. It is wise to lose 
 not a moment, when the attempt is fully re- 
 solved on. You must be the leader, and you 
 must purchase that incomparable distinction, 
 by showing that you possess the qualities of 
 a leader. The people can never be deceived 
 in their own cause. Kings and courts may 
 be deluded into the choice of incapacity ; but 
 the man whom a people will follow from 
 their firesides to the field, must bear the pal- 
 pable stamp of wisdom, energy and valor.” 
 
 “ Admirable being 1” I exclaimed, “worthy 
 
 I to be honored while Israel has a name. Then, 
 I have your consent to follow Constantius. 
 By speed [ may reach him, before he can 
 have arrived at the object of the enterprise. 
 Farewell, my best beloved — farewell.” She 
 fell into my arms in a passion of tears. 
 
 She at length recovered, and said, “This 
 is weakness, the mere weakness of surprise. 
 Yes ; go Prince of Naphtali. No man must 
 i take the glory from you. Constantius is a 
 hero; but you must be a king, and more than 
 a king ; not the struggler for the baubles of 
 royalty, but for the glories of the rescuer of 
 the people of God. The first blow of the 
 war must not be given by another, dear as he 
 is. The first triumph, the whole triumph, 
 must be my lord’s.” She knelt down and 
 poured out her soul to Heaven in eloquent 
 (supplication for my safety. I listened in 
 homage. “Now go,” sighed she, “and re- 
 member, in the day of battle, who will then 
 be in prayer for you. Court no unnecessary 
 peril ; for if you perish, which of us would 
 desire to live !” She again sank upon her 
 knees ; and I in Teverent silence descended 
 from the gallery. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 My preparations were quickly made. I 
 divested myself of my robes, led out my fav- 
 orite barb, flung an alhaik over my shoulders, 
 and by the help of my Arab turban might 
 have passed for a courier or a plunderer in 
 any corner of Syria. This was done unseen 
 of any eye; for the crowd of attendants that 
 thronged the palace in the day, were now 
 stretched through the courts, or on the ter- 
 races, fast asleep, under the doubled influence 
 of a day of feasting, and a night of tepid sum- 
 mer air. 
 
 I rode without stopping, till the sun began 
 to throw up his yellow rays through the va- 
 pors of the lake of Tiberias. To ascertain 
 alike the progress of Constantius, and the 
 chances of meeting with some of those Ro- 
 man squadrons which were perpetually mov- 
 ing between the fortresses, I struck off the 
 road into a forest, tied my barb to a tree, and 
 set forth to reconnoitre. 
 
 Travelling on foot was the common mode 
 of a country which, like Judea, was but little 
 fitted for the breed of horses ; and I found no 
 want of companions. Pedlars, peasants, dis- 
 banded soldiers, and probably thieves, diver- 
 sified my knowledge of mankind wuthin a 
 few miles. I escaped under the sneer of the 
 soldier, and the compassion of the peasant. 
 The first glance at my wardrobe satisfied the 
 robber that I was not worth the exercise of 
 I his profession, or perhaps that I was a brother 
 
76 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 of the trade. But I found none of the repul- 
 siveness that makes the intercourse of higher 
 life so unproductive. Confidence was on 
 every tongue. All the secrets of their fami- 
 lies were at my disposal ; and I discovered, 
 even in the sandy roads of Palestine, that to 
 be a judicious listener, is one of the first tal- 
 ents for popularity ail over the world. 
 
 But, of my peculiar objects 1 could learn 
 nothing, though every man whom I met had 
 some story of the Romans. I ascertained to 
 my surprise, that the intelligence which Sep- 
 timius brought from the very penetralia of 
 the imperial cabinet, was known to the mul- 
 titude. Every voice of the populace was full 
 of a tale, which probably was reckoned among 
 the profoundest secrets of the state. I have 
 made the same observation in later eras, and 
 found even in the most formal mysteries of the 
 most frowning governments, the rumor of 
 the streets outrun the cabinets. So it 
 must be while diplomatists have tongues, 
 and while women and domestics have curi- 
 osity. 
 
 But if I were to rely on the accuracy of 
 those willing politicians, the cause of inde- 
 pendence was without hope. Human nature 
 loves to make itself important; and the nar- 
 rator of the marvellous is always great ac- 
 cording to the distention of his news. Those 
 who had seen a cohort, invariably magnified 
 it into a legion ; a troop of cavalry covered 
 half a province; and the detachment 
 marching from Asia Minor and Egypt for 
 our invasion, were reckoned by the very 
 largest numeration within the teller’s ca- 
 pacity. 
 
 As I was sitting by a rivulet moistening 
 some of the common bread of the country 
 which I had brought to aid my disguise; I 
 entered into conversation with one of those 
 unhoused exiles of society, whom at the first 
 glance we discern to be nature’s commoners, 
 indebted to no man for food, raiment, or habi- 
 tation, the native dweller on the road. He 
 bad some of the habitual jest of those who 
 have no care; and congratulated me on the 
 size of my table, the meadow; and the una- 
 dulterated purity of my potation, the brook. 
 He informed me that he came direct from the 
 Nile, where he had seen the son of Vespa- 
 sian at the head of a hundred thousand men. 
 A Syrian soldier, returning to Damascus, who 
 joined our meal, felt indignant at the discredit 
 thus thrown on a general, under whom he 
 had received three pike wounds, and leave 
 to beg his way home. He swore by Ashta- 
 roth, that the force under Titus was at least 
 twice the number. A third wanderer, a 
 Roman veteran, of whom the remainder was 
 covered over with glorious patches, arrived 
 just in time to relieve his general from the 
 disgrace of so limited a command, and ano- 
 
 ther hundred thousand was instantly put un- 
 der his orders ; sanctioned by asseverations in 
 the name of Jupiter Capitolinus, and as many 
 others of the calender as the patriot could 
 pronounce. This rapid recruiting threw the 
 former authorities into the back-ground ; and 
 the old legionary was, for the rest of the 
 meal, the undisputed leader of the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 “To suppose,” said the veteran, “that 
 those circumcised dogs can stand against the 
 regular-bred Roman general, is sacrilege. 
 Half his army, or a tenth of his army, would 
 walk through the land, north and south, east 
 and west, as easy as I could walk through 
 this brook.” 
 
 “No doubt of it,” said the Syrian, “ if they 
 had some of our cavalry for flanking and 
 foraging.” 
 
 “ Aye, for any thing but fighting, comrade,” 
 said the Roman with a laugh. 
 
 “ No; you leave outanother capital quality,” 
 observed the beggar ; “ none can deny, that 
 whoever may be first in the advance, the 
 Syrians will be first in the retreat. There 
 are two manoeuvres to make a complete sol- 
 dier — how to get into battle, and how to get 
 out of it. Now the Syrians manage the lat- 
 ter in the most undoubted perfection.” 
 
 “ Silence, villain,” exclaimed the Syrian, 
 “or you have robbed your last hen-roost.” 
 
 “He says nothing but the truth for all that,” 
 interrupted the veteran. “ But neither of us 
 taxed your cavalry with cowardice. No; it 
 was pure virtue. They had too much modes- 
 ty to take the way into the field before other 
 troops; and too much humanity not to teach 
 them how to sleep without broken bones.” 
 
 The beggar delighted at the prospect of a 
 quarrel, gave the assent that more embroils 
 the fray. 
 
 “ Mark Anthony did not say so,” murmured 
 the indignant Syrian. 
 
 “Mark Anthony!” cried the Roman, start- 
 ing upon his single leg, “ glory to his name ; 
 but what could a fellow like you know about 
 Mark Anthony 1” 
 
 “ I only served with him,” drily replied the 
 Syrian. 
 
 “ Then here’s my hand for you,” exclaimed 
 the brave old man; “we are comrades. I 
 would love even a dog that had seen the face 
 of Mark Anthony. He was the first man 
 that I ever carried buckler under. There 
 was a soldier for you ; such men are not made 
 in this puling age. He could fight from 
 morn till night, and carouse from night till 
 morn, and never loose his seat on his charger 
 in the field for the day after. I have seen 
 him run half naked through the snows in 
 Armenia, and walk in armour in the hottest 
 day of Egypt. He loved the soldier, and the 
 soldier loved him. So, comrade, here’s U 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 77 
 
 the health of Mark Anthony. Ah, we shall 
 never see such men again.” 
 
 He drew out a flask of ration wine, closely 
 akin to vinegar, of which he hospitably gave 
 us each a cup; and after pouring a libation 
 to his hero’s memory, whom he evidently 
 placed among the gods, swallowed the 
 draught in which we devoutly followed his 
 example. 
 
 “Yet,” said the beggar, “if Anthony was 
 a great man, he had left little men enough 
 behind him. There’s for instance, the pre- 
 sent gay procurator ; six months in the gout, 
 the other six months drunk, or if sober, only 
 thinking where he can rob next. This will 
 bring the government into trouble before long, 
 or I’m much mistaken. For my part, I pledge 
 myself, if he should take any part of my pro- 
 perty ” 
 
 “ Why if he did,” said the Syrian, “ I 
 
 give him credit for magic. He would find a 
 crop of wheat in the sand, or coin money of 
 the air. Where is your property 1” 
 
 “ Comrade,” said the veteran laughing, 
 “ recollect ; if the saying be true, that people 
 are least to be judged of by the outside, the 
 rags of our jovial friend must hide many a 
 shekel ; and as to where his property lies, he 
 has a wide estate who has the world for his 
 portion ; and property enough, who thinks all 
 his own that he can lay his fingers on.” 
 
 The laugh was now loud against the beg- 
 gar. He, however, bore all like one accus- 
 tomed to the buffets of fortune ; and, joining 
 in it, said, “ Whatever may be my talents in 
 that way, there is no great chance of show- 
 ing them in this company ; but if you should 
 be present at the sack of Masada, and I should 
 
 meet you on your way back ” 
 
 “ Masada !” exclaimed I instinctively. 
 
 “ Yes, I left the town three days ago. On 
 the very morning an order arrived to prepare 
 for the coming of the great and good Florus, 
 who in his wisdom, feeling the want of gold, 
 has determined to fill up the hollows of the 
 military chest and his own purse, by stripping 
 the armory of every thing that can sell for 
 money. My intelligence is from the best 
 authority. The governor’s principal bath- 
 slave told it to one of the damsels of the stew- 
 ard’s department, with whom the Ethiopian 
 is mortally in love; and the damsel, in a mo- 
 ment of tenderness, told it to me. In fact, to 
 Jet you into my secret, I am now looking out 
 for Florus, in whose train I intend to make 
 my way back into this gold mine.” 
 
 “ The villain !” cried the veteran, “disturb 
 the arms of the dead ! Why, they say it has 
 the very corslet and buckler that Mark An- 
 thony wore when he marched against the 
 Idumeans.” 
 
 “ I fear more the disturbance of the arms of 
 the living,” said the Syrian. “ The Jews will 
 6 
 
 take it for granted that the Romans are giving 
 up the business in despair ; and if I’m a true 
 man, there will be blood before I get home.” 
 “ No fear of that, fellow soldier,” said the 
 veteran, gaily ; “ you have kept your two legs, 
 and when they have so long carried you out 
 of harm’s way, it would be the w'orst treat- 
 ment possible to leave you in it at last. But 
 there is something in what you say. I had a 
 dream last night. I thought I saw the coun- 
 try in a blaze, and when I started from my 
 sleep my ears filled with the sound like the 
 trampling of ten thousand cavalry.” 
 
 I drew my breath quick ; and, to conceal 
 my emotion, gathered up the fragments of our 
 meal. On completing the work, I found the 
 beggar’s eye fixed on me: — he smiled. 
 
 “I too had a dream last night,” said he, 
 “and of much the same kind. I thought 
 that I saw a cloud of cavalry riding as fast as 
 horse could lay roof to the ground ; I never 
 saw a more dashing set, since my first cam- 
 paign upon the highways of this wicked 
 world. I’ll be sworn that, whatever their 
 errand may be, such riders will not come 
 back without it. Their horses’ heads were 
 turned toward Masada, and I am now be- 
 tween two minds whether I may not mention 
 my dream to the procurator himself.” 
 
 I found his keen eye turned on me again. 
 “Absurd!” said I. “He would recommend 
 you only to his lictor.” 
 
 “I rather think he would recommend me 
 to his treasurer, for I never had a dream that 
 seemed so like a fact. I should not be sur- 
 prised to find that I had been sleeping with 
 my eyes open.” 
 
 His look convinced me that I was known. 
 I touched his hand, while the soldiers were 
 busy packing up their cups, and showed him 
 gold. He smiled carelessly. I laid my hand 
 on my poinard ; but he smiled again. 
 
 “The sun is burning out,” said he, “and 
 I can stand talking here no longer. Farewell, 
 brave soldiers, and safe home to you ! Fare- 
 well, A rab, and safe home to those that you are 
 looking after!” He stalked away, and as he 
 passed me, said in a low voice, “ glory to 
 Naphtali !” 
 
 After exchanging good wishes with the 
 old men, I followed him ; he led the way to- 
 ward the wood at a pace which kept me at 
 a distance. When I reached the shade he 
 stopped, and prostrated himself before me. 
 
 “ Will my lord,” said he, “ forgive the pre- 
 sumption of his servant 1 This day, when I 
 first met you, your disguise deceived me. I 
 bear intelligence from your friends.” I 
 caught the fragment of papyrus from him, 
 j and^read : — “All’s well. We have hitherto 
 met with nothing to oppose us. To-morrow 
 night we shall be on the ground. If no addi- 
 | tion be made to the force within, the surprise 
 
78 
 
 Saluthiel. 
 
 will be complete. Oar cause itself is victory. 
 Health to all we love !” 
 
 “ ifour mission is now done,” said I, “ Go 
 on to Naphtali, and you shall be rewarded as 
 your activity has deserved.” 
 
 “No,” replied he, with the easy air of a 
 licensed humorist, “ I have but two things to 
 think of in this world — my time and my 
 money of one of them I have infinitely more 
 then I well know how to spend ; and of the 
 other infinitely less. [ expected to have kill- 
 ed a few days in going up to Naphtali. But 
 that hope has been cut off by my finding you 
 half way. I will now try Florus, and get rid 
 of a day or two with that most worthy of 
 men.” 
 
 “ That I forbid,” interrupted I. 
 
 “ Not, if you will trust one whom your 
 noble son has trusted. I am not altogether 
 without some dislike to the Romans myself, 
 nor something between contempt and hatred 
 for Gessius Floras.” His countenance dark- 
 ened at the name. “I tell you,” pronounced 
 he bitterly, “ that fellow’s pampered carcass 
 this day contains as black a mass of villainy 
 as stains the earth. I have an old account 
 to settle with him.” His voice swelled. “I 
 was once no rambler, no outcast of the land. 
 I lived on the side of Hermon, lovely Her- 
 mon ! 1 was affianced to a maiden of my 
 
 kindred, as sweet a flower as ever blushed 
 with love and joy. Our bridal day was fixed. 
 I went to Ctesarea-Philippi, to purchase some 
 marriage presents. When I returned, I found 
 nothing but women weeping, and men furious 
 with impotent rage. My bride was gone. 
 A Roman troop had surrounded her father’s 
 house in the night, and torn her away. 
 Wild, distracted, nay, I believe raving mad, 
 I searched the land. I kept life in me only 
 that I might recover or revenge her. I aban- 
 doned property, friends, all ! I at length 
 made the discovery.” To hide his perturba- 
 tion, he turned away. “Powers of justice 
 and vengeance, are there no thunders for 
 such things'! She had been seen by that 
 hoary profligate. She was carried off by him. 
 She spurned his insults. He ordered her to 
 be chained, to be starved, to be lashed.” 
 Tears burst from his eyes. “ She still spurn- 
 ed him. She implored to die. She called 
 upon my name in her misery. Wretch that 
 I was, what could I, a worm, do under the 
 heel of the tyrant ! — But I saw her at last ; 
 — 1 made my way into the dungeon. There 
 sat she, pale as the stone to which she was 
 chained ; a silent, sightless, bloodless, mind- 
 less skeleton. I called to her; she knew 
 nothing. I pressed my lips to hers: she 
 never felt them. I bathed her cold hands in 
 my tears. I fell at her feet. I prayed to her 
 but to pronounce one word ; to give some 
 sign of remembrance ; to look on me. She 
 
 sat like a statue ; her reason was gone, gone 
 for ever !” 
 
 He flung himself upon the ground, and 
 writhed and groaned before me. To turn 
 him from a subject of such sorrow, I asked 
 what he meant to do by his intercourse with 
 Florus. 
 
 “ To do! not to stab him in his bed ; not 
 to poison him in his banquet; not to smile 
 him with that speedy death which would be 
 mercy ; — no, but to force him into ruin step 
 , by step; to gather shame, remorse, and an- 
 guish round him, cloud on cloud ; to mix evil 
 in his cup with such exquisite slowness, that 
 he shall taste every drop; to strike him only 
 so far, that he may feel the pang without 
 bfdng stunned ; to mingle so much of hope in 
 his undoing, that he may never enjoy the vi- 
 gor of despair; to sink him into his own Tar- 
 tarus inch by inch, till every fibre has its par- 
 ticular agony.” He yelled, suddenly rose 
 from the ground, and rushed forward and 
 threaded the thickets with swiftness that 
 made pursuit in vain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The violence of the beggar’s anguish, and 
 the strong probabilities of his story engrossed 
 me so much, that I at first regretted the ex- 
 traordinary flight, which put it out of my 
 power to offer him any assistance. I returned 
 with a feeling of disappointment to the spot 
 where I had left my horse, and was riding 
 toward the higher country to avoid the ene- 
 my’s straggling parties, when I heard a loud 
 outcry. On a crag so distant, that I thought 
 human speed could scarcely have reached it 
 in time, I saw this strange being making all 
 kinds of signals, sometimes pointing to me, 
 then to some object below him ; and uttering 
 a cry which might easily be mistaken for the 
 howl of a wild beast. 
 
 I reined up; it was impossible for me to 
 ascertain whether he was warning me of the 
 neighborhood of danger, or apprising others 
 of my approach; or even, from the nature of 
 his cries, preparing me for an assault by a 
 troop of panthers. Great stakes make man 
 suspicious, and the prince of Naphtali, speed- 
 ing to the capture of the principal place of 
 arms of the legions, might be an object well 
 worth a little treachery. I rapidly forgot the 
 beggar’s sorrows in the consideration of his 
 habits; decided "that his harangue was a piece 
 of professional dexterity, probably played off 
 every week of his life ; and that if I would 
 not be in Roman hands before night, I must 
 ride in the precisely opposite direction to 
 that which his signals so laboriously recom- 
 mended. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 79 
 
 Nothing- grows with more vigor than the 
 doubt of human honesty. I satisfied myself 
 in a few moments that I was a dupe ; dashed 
 ^ through thicket, over rock, forded torrent, 
 and, from the top of an acclivity at which 
 even my high mettled steed had looked with 
 repugnance, saw, with the triumph of him 
 who deceives the deceiver, the increased vio- 
 lence of the impostor’s attitudes. He leaped 
 from crag to crag with the activity of a goat ; 
 and when he could do nothing else, gave the 
 last evidence of Oriental vexation by tearing 
 his robes. I waved my hand to him in con- 
 temptuous farewell ; and dismounting, for the 
 side of the hill was almost precipitous, led my 
 panting Arab through beds of myrtle, and 
 every lovely and sweet-smelling bloom, to the 
 edge of a valley, that seemed made to shut 
 out every disturbance of man. 
 
 A circle of low hills, covered to the crown 
 with foliage, surrounded a deep space of vel- 
 vet turf, kept green as the emerald by the 
 flow of rivulets, and the moisture of a pellu- 
 cid lake in the centre, tinged with every co- 
 lor of the heavens. The beauty of this sylvan 
 spot was enhanced by the luxuriant profusion 
 of almond, orange, and other trees, that in 
 every stage of production, from the bud to the 
 fruit, covered the little knolls below, and 
 formed a broad belt round the lake. 
 
 Parched as I was by the intolerable thirst, 
 this secluded haunt of the very spirit of fresh- 
 ness looked doubly lovely. My eyes, half 
 blinded by the glare of the sands, and even 
 my mind, exhausted by the perplexities of the 
 day, found delicious relaxation in the verdure 
 and dewy breath of the silent valley. My 
 barb, with the quick sense of animals accus- 
 tomed to the travel of the wilderness, showed 
 her delight by playful boundings, the prouder 
 arching of her neck, and the brighter glanc- 
 ing of her bright eye. 
 
 “ Here,” thought I, as I led her slowly to- 
 ward the steep ascent, “would be the very 
 spot for the innocence that had not tried the 
 world, or the philosophy that had tried it, 
 and found all vanity. Who could dream that, 
 within the borders of this distracted land, in 
 the very hearing, almost within the very 
 sight of the last miseries that man can 
 inflict on man, there was a retreat, which 
 the foot of man perhaps never yet defiled ; 
 and in which the calamities that inflict socie- 
 ty might be as little felt as if it were among 
 the stars.” 
 
 A violent plunge of the barb put an end 
 to my speculation. She exhibited the wildest 
 signs of terror, snorted, and strove to break 
 from me; then fixing her glance keenly on 
 the thickets below, shook in every limb. 
 But the scene was tranquillity itself; the. 
 chameleon lay basking in the sun, and the 
 only sound was that of the wild doves mur - 1 
 
 muring under the broad leaves of the palm- 
 i trees. 
 
 But my mare still resisted every effort to 
 lead her downwards, her ears were fluttering 
 convulsively, her eyes were starting from 
 their sockets ; I grew peevish at the animal’s 
 unusual obstinacy, and was about to let her 
 suffer thirst for the day, when my senses 
 were paralyzed by a tremendous roar. A 
 lion stood on the summit which I had but just 
 quitted. He was not a dozen yards above 
 •my head, and his first spring must have car- 
 ried me to the bottom of the precipice. The 
 barb burst away at once. I drew the only 
 weapon I had, a dagger, — and, hopeless as 
 escape was, grasping the tangled weeds to 
 sustain my footing, awaited the plunge. But 
 the lordly savage probably disdained so igno- 
 ble a prey, and continued on the summit, 
 lashing his sides with his tail, and tearing up 
 the ground. He at length stopped suddenly, 
 listened, as to some approaching foot, and 
 then with a hideous yell, sprang over me. 
 and was in the thicket below at a single 
 bound. 
 
 The whole thicket was instantly alive ; 
 the shade which T had fixed on for the seat 
 of unearthly tranquillity, was an old haunt 
 of lions, and the mighty herd were now 
 roused from their noon-day slumbers. Noth- 
 ing could be grander or more terrible than 
 this disturbed majesty of the forest kings. 
 In every variety of savage passion, from terror 
 to fury they plunged, and tore, and yelled ; 
 darted through the lake, burst through the 
 thicket, rushed up the hills, or stood baying 
 and roaring in defiance against the coming 
 invader ; the numbers were immense, for the 
 rareness of shade and water had gathered 
 them from every quarter of the desert. 
 
 While I stood clinging to my perilous hold, 
 and fearful of attracting their gaze by the 
 slightest movement, the source of the commo- 
 tion appeared in the shape of a Homan soldier 
 issuing, spear in hand, through a ravine at 
 the farther side of the valley. He was pal- 
 pably unconscious of the formidable place 
 into which he was entering, and the gallant 
 clamor of voices through the hills, showed 
 that he was followed by others as bold and 
 unconscious of their danger as himself. 
 
 But his career soon closed ; his horse’s feet 
 had scarcely touched the turf, when a lion 
 was fixed with fangs and claws on the crea- 
 ture’s loins. The rider uttered a cry of hor- 
 ror, and for the instant sat, helplessly, gazing 
 at the open jaws behind him. I saw the 
 lion gathering up his flanks for a second 
 bound, but the soldier, a figure of gigantic 
 strength, grasping the nostrils of the monster 
 with one hand, and, with the other shorten- 
 ing his spear, drove the steel at one resistless 
 1 thrust into the lion’s forehead. Horse, lion, 
 
80 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 and rider fell, and continued struggling to- 
 gether. 
 
 In the next moment, a mass of cavalry 
 came thundering down the ravine. They 
 had broken off from their march, through the 
 accident of rousing a straggling lion, and 
 followed him in the giddy ardor of the chase. 
 The sight now before them was enough to 
 appal the boldest intrepidity. The valley 
 was filled with the vast herd ; retreat was 
 impossible, for the troopers came still pour- 
 ing in by the only pass, and, from the sudden 
 descent of the glen, horse and man were 
 rolled head foremost among the lions ; nei- 
 ther man nor monster could retreat. The 
 conflict was horrible ; the heavy spears of the 
 legionaries plunged through bone and brain ; 1 
 the lions, made more furious by wounds, 
 sprang upon the powerful horses and tore 
 them to the ground, or flew at the troopers’ 
 throats, and crushed and dragged away cuir- 
 ass and buckler. The valley was a strng- 
 ling heap of human and savage battle ; man, 
 lion, and charger, writhing and rolling in 
 agonies, until their forms were undistinguish- 
 able. The groans and cries of the legion- 
 aries, the screams of the mangled horses, 
 and the roars and howlings of the lions bleed- 
 ing with sword and spear, tearing the dead, 
 darting up the sides of the hills in terror, and 
 rushing down again with the fresh thirst of 
 gore, baffled all conception of fury and hor- 
 ror. 
 
 Butman was the conqueror at last; the 
 savages, scared by the spear, and thinned in 
 their number, made a rush in one body to- 
 ward the ravine, overthrew every thing in 
 their way, and burst from the valley, awak- 
 ing the desert for many a league with their 
 roar. 
 
 The troopers bitterly repenting their rash 
 exploit, gathered up the remnants of their 
 dead on litters of boughs, and, leaving many a 
 gallant steed to feast the vultures, slowly re- 
 tired from the place of carnage. 
 
 The spot to which I clung, made ascent or 
 descent equally difficult ; and during this ex- 
 traordinary contest I continued embedded in 
 the foliage, and glad to escape the eye of man 
 and brute alike. But the troop were gone; 
 beneath me lay nothing but a scene of blood, 
 and I began to wind my way to the summit. 
 A menace from below stopped me. A soli- 
 tary horseman had galloped back to give a 
 last look to this valley of death ; he saw me 
 climbing the hill, saw that I was not a Roman, 
 and, in the irritation of the hour, made no 
 scruple of sacrificing a native to the manes 
 of his comrades. The spear followed his 
 words, and ploughed the ground at my side, j 
 His outcry brought back a dozen of his i 
 squadron ; I found myself about to be assailed ; 
 by a general discharge, escape on foot was ! 
 
 impossible, and I had no resource but to de- 
 scend and give myself up to the soldiery. 
 
 It was to warn me of this hazard that the 
 signals of my strange companion were made. 
 He saw the advance of the Roman column 
 along the plain. My suspicions of his hon- 
 esty drove me directly into their road, and 
 the chance of turning down the valley scarce- 
 ly retarded the capture. On my first emerg- 
 ing from the hills 1 must have been taken. 
 However my captors were in unusual ill 
 temper. As an Arab, too poor to be worth 
 plundering or being made prisoner, I should 
 have met only a sneer or an execration, and 
 been turned loose; but the late disaster made 
 the turban and alhaic odious, and I was treat- 
 ed with the wrath due to a fellow-conspirator 
 of the lions. 
 
 To my request, that I should be suffered 
 to depart in peace on my business, the most 
 prompt denial was given ; the story that I 
 told to account for my travel in the track of 
 the column, was treated with the simplest 
 scorn, 1 was pronounced a spy, and fairly- 
 told, that my head was my own only till I 
 gave the procurator whatever information it 
 contained. 
 
 Yet I found one friend in this evil state of 
 my expedition. My barb, which 1 had given 
 up for lost in the desert, or torn by the wild 
 beasts, appeared on the heights overhanging 
 our march, and by snuffing the wind, and 
 bounding backwards and forwards through 
 the thickets, attracted general attention. I 
 claimed her, and the idea that the way-sore 
 and rough-clothed prisoner could be the mas- 
 ter of so noble an animal, raised scorn to its 
 most peremptory pitch. In turn I demanded 
 permission to prove my right ; and called the 
 barb. The creature heard the voice with 
 the most obvious delight, bounded toward me, 
 rubbed her head to my feet, and by every 
 movement of dumb joy showed that she had 
 found her master. 
 
 But my requests for dismissal were idle; I 
 talked to the winds; the rear squadrons of 
 the column were in sight; there was no time 
 to be lost, I was suffered to mount the barb, 
 but her bridle was thrown across the neck of 
 one of the trooper’s horses, and I was march- 
 ed along to death, or a tedious captivity. 
 
 My blood boiled, when I thought of what 
 was to be done before the dawn. “ What 
 would be expected from me by my people, 
 and how lame and impotent must my excuse 
 fall on the public ear; how miserable a proof 
 had I given of the vigilance and vigor that 
 were to claim the command of armies !” I 
 gnashed my teeth and writhed in every nerve. 
 
 [ My agitation at length caught the eye of a 
 corpulent old captain, whose good humored 
 [visage was colored by the deepest infusion 
 !of the grape. His strong Thracian charger 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 81 
 
 was a moveable magazine of the choicest 
 Falernian ; out of every crevice of his pack- 
 saddle and accoutrements peeped the head; 
 of a flask; and to judge by his frequent re-j 
 course to his stores, no man was less inclined 
 to carry his baggagefornothing. Popularity \ 
 too, attended upon the captain, and a group 
 of young patricians attached to the procura- 
 tor’s court were content to abate of their 
 rank, and ride along with the old soldier, in 
 consideration of his better knowledge of the 
 grand military science of providing for the 
 road. 
 
 In the midst of some camp story, which the 
 majority received with peals of applause, the 
 captain glanced upon me; and, asking “ whe- 
 ther I was not ill,” held out his flask. I took 
 it; and never did I taste draught so delicious. 
 Thirst and hunger are the true secrets of lux- 
 ury. I absolutely felt new life rushing into 
 me with the wine.” 
 
 “ There,” said the old man, “ see how the 
 fellow’s eye sparkles. Falernian is the doc- 
 tor, after all. I have had no other these forty 
 years. For hard knocks, hard watches, and 
 hard weather, there is nothing like the true 
 juice of the vine. Try it again, Arab.” I 
 declined the offer in civil terms. 
 
 “ There,” said he, “ it has made the man 
 eloquent. By Hercules, it would put a 
 tongue into the dumb animals. I warrant it 
 would make that mare speak. And now 
 that I look at her, she is as prettily made a 
 creature as I have seen in Syria : her nose 
 would fit in a drinking cup. What is her 
 price, at a word 1” 
 
 I answered him, that “she was not to be 
 sold.” 
 
 “ W ell, well, say no more about it,” re- 
 plied the jovial old man. “ 1 know you 
 Arabs make as much of a mare as of a child, 
 and I never meddle in family affairs.” 
 
 A haughty looking tribune, covered with 
 embroidery, and the other coxcombry of the 
 court soldier, spurred his foaming charger 
 between us, and uttered with a sneer, — 
 “ What, captain, by Venus and all the Graces, 
 giving this beggar a lecture on philosophy, 
 ora lesson in politeness? If you will not 
 have the mare, I will. Dismount slave!” 
 
 The officers .gathered to the front, to see 
 the progress of the affair. I sat silent. 
 
 “Slave! do you hear? Dismount! You 
 will lose nothing, for you will steal another 
 in the first field you come to.” 
 
 “ I know but one race of robbers in Judea,” 
 replied 1. 
 
 The old captain reigned up beside me, and 
 laid, in a whisper — “ Friend, let him have 
 he mare. He is rich, and will pay you 
 landsomely; and powerful besides; for he is 
 he nephew of the procurator. It will not be| 
 wise in you to put him in a passion.” ] 
 
 “ That fellow shall never have her, thougti 
 he were to coin these sands into gold,” re- 
 plied I. 
 
 “ Do you mean to call us robbers ?” said 
 the tribune, with a lowering eye. 
 
 “ Do you mean to stop me on the highway, 
 and take my property from me, and expect 
 that I shall call you anything else?” was 
 the answer. 
 
 “ Sententious rogues, those Arabs ! Every 
 soul of them has a point or proverb on his 
 tongue murmured the captain to the group 
 of young men, who were evidently amused at 
 seeing their unpopular companion entangled 
 with me. 
 
 “ Slave !” said the tribune fiercely, “ we 
 must have no more of this. You have been 
 found lurking about the camp. Will you be 
 hanged for a spy ?” 
 
 “ A spy !” said I, and the insult probably 
 colored my cheek, “ No ; a spy has no busi- 
 ness among the Romans.” 
 
 “ So,” observed the captain, “ the Arab 
 seems to think that our proceedings are in 
 general pretty palpable. Slay, strip, and 
 burn.” He turned to the patrician tribune. 
 “ The fellow is not worth our trouble. Shall 
 I let him go about his business?” 
 
 “ Sir,” said the tribune angrily, “ it is your 
 business to command your troop, and be si- 
 lent.” The old man bit his lip, and fell back 
 to the line of his men. My taunter reigned 
 up beside me again. “ Do you know, robber, 
 that I can order you to be speared on the spot 
 for your lies ?” 
 
 “ No ; for I have told you nothing but the 
 truth of both of us. Such an order too would 
 only prove, that men will often bid others do, 
 what they dare not touch with a finger of 
 their own.” 
 
 The officers, offended at the treatment of 
 their old favorite, burst into a laugh. The 
 coxcomb grew doubly indignant. 
 
 “ Strip the hound,” exclaimed he to the sol 
 diers : “ it is money that makes him insolent.” 
 
 “ Nature has done it at least for one of us, 
 without the expense of a mite replied I, 
 calmly. 
 
 “Off with his turban. Those fellows car- 
 ry coin in every fold of it.” 
 
 The officers looked at each other in sur- 
 prise ; the captain hardly suppressed a con- 
 temptuous execration between his lips. The 
 very troopers hesitated. 
 
 “ Soldiers !” said I, in the same unaltered 
 tone, “ I have no gold in my turban. An 
 Arab is seldom one of those — the outside of 
 whose head is better worth than the in.” 
 
 The perfumed and curled locks of the tri- 
 bune, surmounted by a helmet, sculptured 
 and plumed in the most extravagant style, 
 caught every eye ; and the shaft, slight as it 
 was, went home. 
 
82 
 
 Salat hi el. 
 
 “ I’ll pluck the robber off his horse by the 
 beard exclaimed the tribune, spurring his 
 horse upon me, and advancing his hand. 
 
 I threw open my robe, grasped my dagger, 
 and sternly pronounced, — “ There is an oath 
 in our line, that the man who touches the 
 beard of an Arab, dies.” He was not pre- 
 pared for the action ; hesitated, and finally 
 wheeled from me. The old captain burst 
 out into an involuntary huzza! 
 
 “ Take the beggar to the camp said the 
 tribune, as he rode away. “ I hate all scoun- 
 drels and he glanced round the spectators. 
 
 “ Then,” exclaimed I, after him, as a part- 
 ing blow, “ you have at least one virtue, for 
 you can never be charged with self-love.” 
 
 This woman-war made me popular on the 
 spot. The tribune had no sooner turned his 
 horse’s head, than the officers clustered to- 
 gether in laughter. Even the iron visages 
 of the troopers relaxed into grim smiles. 
 The old jocular captain was the only one 
 still grave. 
 
 “There rides not this day under the cano- 
 py of Heaven,” murmured he, “ a greater 
 puppy than Caius Sempronins Catulus, tri- 
 bune of the thirteenth legion, by his mother’s 
 morals, and the Emperor’s taste. Why did 
 not the coxcomb stay at home, and show off 
 his trappings among the supper-eaters of the 
 palatine 1 He might have powdered his 
 ringlets with gold-dust, washed his lily hands 
 in rose-water, and perfumed his Indian hand- 
 kerchief with myrrh, as well there as here; 
 for he does nothing else. Except,” and he 
 clenched the heavy hilt of his falchion, “in- 
 sult men, who have seen more battles than he 
 has seen years ; who know better service 
 than figuring in ball-rooms, or cowing in 
 courts ; and the least drop of whose blood is 
 worth all that will ever run in his effbminate 
 veins. But I have not done with him ypt. 
 As for you, friend,” said he, “ I am sorry to 
 stop you on your way. But as this affair will 
 be magnified by that fool’s tongue, you must 
 be brought to the procurator. However, the 
 camp is only a few miles off; you will be 
 asked a few questions, and then left to follow 
 your will.” He little dreamed how I re- 
 coiled from that interview. 
 
 To shorten the time of my delay, the good- 
 natured old man ordered the squadron to 
 mend their pace; and in half an hour, we 
 saw the noon-encampment of my sworn ene- 
 my, lifting its white tops and scarlet flags 
 among the umbrage of a forest, deep in the 
 valley at our feet. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The squadron drew up at the entrance of 
 the procurator’s tent; and, with a crowd 
 
 of alarmed peasants captured in the course 
 of the day, I was delivered over to be ques- 
 tioned by this man of terror. The few min- 
 utes which passed before I was called to take 
 my turn, were singularly painful. This was 
 not fear; for the instant sentence of the axe 
 would have been almost a relief from the hope- 
 I less and fretful thwartings sown so thickly 
 | in my path. But to have embarked in a 
 noble enterprise, and to perish, without use ; 
 to have arrived almost within sight of the 
 point of my desires, and then, without strik- 
 ; mg a blow, to be given up to shame, stung 
 me like a serpent. 
 
 My heart sprang to my lips, when I heard 
 myself called to the presence of Floras. He 
 was lying upon a couch, with his never-fail- 
 ing cup before him, and turning over some 
 papers, with a shaking hand. Care or con- 
 science had made ravages in him, since I saw 
 him last. He was still the same figure 
 of excess ; but his cheek was hollow : the 
 few locks on his head had grown a more 
 snowy white; and the little, pampered 
 hand was thin and yellow as the claw of 
 the vulture that he so much resembled in his 
 soul. 
 
 With his head scarcely lifted from the 
 table, and with eyes that seemed more shut 
 then open, he asked, “ whence I had come, 
 and whither I was going 1” My voice, not- 
 withstanding the attempt to disguise it, 
 struck his acute ear. His native keenness 
 was awake at once. He darted a fiery 
 glance at me, and, striking his hand on the 
 table, exclaimed — “By Hercules, it is the 
 Jew !” My altered costume again perplexed 
 him. “Yet,” said he, in soliloquy, “that 
 fellow went to Nero, and must have been 
 executed. Ho! send in the tribune who took 
 him.” Catulus entered ; and his account of 
 me was, luckily, contemptuous in the ex- 
 treme. 1 was “ a notorious robber, who had 
 stolen a handsome horse, perfectly worthy of 
 the stud of the procurator.” I panted with 
 the hope of escape, and was gradually mov- 
 ing to the door. “ Stand, slave,” cried Floras : 
 “I have my doubts of you still; and as the 
 public safety admits of no mistake, I have no 
 alternative. Tribune! order in the lictors. 
 He must be scourged to confession.” The 
 lictors were summoned ; and I was to be torn 
 by Roman torturers. 
 
 A tumult arose outside, and a man rushed 
 in with the lictors, exclaiming, “Justice, 
 most mighty Florus. By the majesty of 
 Rome, and the magnanimity of the most il- 
 lustrious of governors, I call for justice against 
 my plunderer, my undoer, the robber of the 
 son of El Hakim of his most precious trea- 
 sure.” 
 
 Florus recognised the clamorer as an old 
 1 acquaintance, and desired him to state his 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 83 
 
 complaint, and with as much brevity as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 “ Last night,” said the man, “ I was the 
 happy possessor of a mare, fleet as the ostrich, 
 and shapely as the face of beauty. I had 
 intended her as a present for the most illus- 
 trious of procurators, the great Florus, whom 
 the gods long preserve. In the hour of my 
 rest, the spoiler came, noiseless as the fall of 
 a turtle’s feather, but cruel as the viper’s 
 tooth. When I arose my mare was gone. 
 I was in distraction. I tore my beard; I 
 beat my head upon the ground ; I cursed the 
 robber wherever he went, to the sun-rising 
 or the sun-setting, the mountains or the val- 
 leys. But fortune sits on the banner of my 
 lord the procurator; and I came for hope to 
 his conquering feet. In passing through the 
 camp, what did I see but my treasure — the 
 delight of my eyes, the drier up of my tears ! 
 I have come to claim justice, and the resto- 
 ration of my mare, that I may have the hap- 
 piness to present her to the most renowned 
 of mankind.” 
 
 I had been occupied with the thought whe- 
 ther I should burst through the lictors, or rush 
 on the procurator. But the length and loud- 
 ness of this outcry engrossed every one. The 
 orator was my friend, the beggar. He point- 
 ed fiercely to me. If looks could kill, he 
 would not have survived the look that I gave 
 the traitor in return. 
 
 “ There,” said Florus, “ is your plunderer. 
 Sabat, have you ever seen him before'!” 
 
 The beggar strode insolently towards me. 
 “ Seen him before ! aye, a hundred times. 
 What ! Ben Ammon, the most notorious 
 thief from the Nile to the Jordan. My lord, 
 every child knows him. Hah, by the gods 
 of my fathers, by my mother’s bosom, by 
 shaft and by shield, he has stolen more horses 
 within the last twenty years, than would re- 
 mount all the cavalry from Beersheba to 
 Damascus ! It was but last night that, as I 
 was leading my mare, the gem of my eyes, 
 my pearl — ” 
 
 I now began to perceive the value of my 
 eloquent friend’s interposition. 
 
 “ An Arab horse-thief! — that alters the 
 case,” said the procurator. “Ho! did you 
 not say that the mare was intended for me ! 
 Lictor, go and bring this wonder to the 
 door.” 
 
 The voluble son of El Hakim followed the 
 lictor; and returned, crying out more fu- 
 riously than before against me. His “ pearl, 
 the delight of his eyes, was spoiled — was 
 utterly unmanageable. I had put some of 
 my villainous enchantment upon her ; for 
 which I was notorious.” 
 
 The procurator’s curiosity was excited ; 
 he rosp, and went to take a view of the en- 
 chanted animal I followed ; and certainly 
 
 nothing could be more singular than the 
 restiveness which the son of El Hakim con- 
 trived to make her exhibit. She plunged — 
 she bounded ; bit, reared, and flung out in 
 all directions. Every attempt to lead or 
 mount her was foiled in the most complete, 
 yet most ludicrous manner. The young 
 cavalry officers came from all sides; ana 
 could not be restrained from boisterous laugh- 
 ter, even by the presence of the procurator. 
 Florus himself, at last, became among the 
 loudest. Even I, accustomed as I was to 
 daring horsemanship, was surprised at the 
 eccentric agility of this unlucky rider. He 
 was alternately on the animal’s back and 
 under her feet; he sprang upon her from 
 behind; he sprang over her head; he stood 
 upon the saddle ; but all in vain ; he had 
 scarcely touched her, when she threw him 
 up in the air again, amid the perpetual roar 
 of the soldiery. 
 
 At length, with a look of dire disappoint- 
 ment, he gave up the task ; and scarcely able 
 to drag his limbs along, prostrated himself 
 before Florus, praying that he would order 
 the Arab thief to unsay the spells that had 
 turned “ the gentlest mare in the world into 
 a wild beast.” The consent was given with 
 a haughty nod; and I advanced to play my 
 part in a performance, of whose objects I had 
 not a conception. The orator delivered the 
 barb to me with a look so expressive of cun- 
 ning, sport, and triumph, that, perplexed as I 
 was, I could not avoid a smile. My experi- 
 ment was rapidly made. The mare knew 
 me, and was tractable at once. This only 
 confirmed the charge of my necromancy. 
 But the son of El Hakim professed himself 
 altogether dissatisfied with so expeditious a 
 process, and demanded that I should go 
 through the regular steps of the art. In the 
 midst of the fiercest reprobation of my un- 
 hallowed dealings, a whisper put me in pos- 
 session of his mind. 
 
 I now went through the process used by 
 the travelling jugglers; and if the deepest 
 attention of an audience could reward my 
 talents, mine received unexampled reward. 
 My gazings on the sky, whisperings in the 
 barb’s ear, grotesque figures traced on the 
 sand, wild gestures and mysterious jargon, 
 thoroughly absorbed the intellects of the 
 honest legionaries. If I had been content 
 with fame, I might have spread my reputa- 
 tion through the Roman camps, as a conjuror 
 of the first magnitude. 
 
 I was, however, beginning to be weary of 
 my exhibition, and longed for the signal ; 
 when Sabat approached, and loudly testifying 
 that I had clearly performed my task, threw 
 the bridle over ’he animal’s head and whis- 
 pered, “ Now !” 
 
 My heart panted ; my hand was on the 
 
84 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 mane ; I glanced round to see that all 
 was safe before I gave the spring — when 
 Florus screamed out, “The Jew! by Tar- 
 tarus, it is the Jew himself. Drag down the 
 circumcised dog.” With cavalry on every 
 side of me forcible escape was out of the 
 question. 
 
 “ Undone, undone !” were the words of my 
 wild friend as he passed me. And when I 
 saw him once more in the most earnest con- 
 versation with Florus, I concluded that the 
 discovery was complete. I was in utter de- 
 spair. I stood sullenly waiting for the worst, 
 and gave an internal curse to the more than 
 malevolence of fortune. 
 
 The conversation continued so long that 
 the impatience of those round me began to 
 break out. 
 
 “ On what possible subject can the procu- 
 rator suffer that mad fellow to have so long 
 an audience 1” said a young patrician. 
 
 “On every possible subject, I should con- 
 ceive, from the length of the discussion,” was 
 the reply. 
 
 “Florus knows his man,” said a third; 
 “ that mad fellow is a regular spy, and re- 
 ceives more of the Emperor’s coin in a month 
 than we do in a year.” 
 
 The tribune now broke into the circle, and, 
 with a look of supreme scorn, affectedly ex- 
 claimed, “Come, knight of the desert, sove- 
 reign of the sands, let us have a specimen 
 of your calling. Stand back, officers; this 
 egg of Ishmael is to quit plunder so soon, that 
 he would probably like to die as he lived — 
 in the exercise of his trade. Here, slave, 
 show' us the most approved method of getting 
 possession of another man’s horse.” 
 
 I stood in indignant silence. The tribune 
 threatened. A thought struck me : I bowed 
 to the command, let the barb loose, and 
 proceeded according to my theory of horse- 
 stealing. 
 
 I approached noiselessly, gesticulated, made 
 mystic movements, and gibbered witchcraft 
 as before. The animal, with natural docility, 
 suffered my experiments. 1 continued urg- 
 ing her towards the thinner side of the circle. 
 “ Now, noble Romans,” said I, “ look care- 
 fully to the next spell, for it is the triumph 
 of the art.” 
 
 Curiosity was in every countenance. I 
 made a genuflexion to the four points of the 
 compass, devoted a gesture of peculiar so- 
 lemnity to the procurator’s tent, and while 
 all eyes were drawn in that direction, sprang 
 on the barb’s back, and was gone like an 
 arrow. 
 
 I heard a clamor of surprise, mingled with 
 outrageous laughter, and, looking round, saw 
 the whole crowd of the loose riders of the 
 encampment in full pursuit up the hill. 
 Florus was at his tent door, pointing towards 
 
 1 me with furious gestures. The trumpets 
 j were calling, the cavalry mounting: I 
 
 :had roused the whole activity of the little 
 1 army. 
 
 | The slope of the valley was long and 
 'steep; and the heavy horsemanship of the 
 legionaries, who were perhaps not very anx- 
 ious for my capture, soon threw them out. 
 
 1 1 A little knot of the more zealous alone kept 
 |up a pursuit, from which I had no fears. An 
 abrupt rock in the middle of the ascent at 
 length hid them from me. To gain a last 
 view of the camp, I doubled round the rock, 
 and saw, a few yards below me, the tribune, 
 
 | with his horse completely blown. I owed 
 him a debt, partly on my own account, and 
 partly on that of the old captain, which I had 
 determined to discharge at the earliest possi- 
 ble time. I darted upon him. He was all 
 astonishment : a single buffet from my nuked 
 hand knocked the helpless taunter off his 
 charger. “ Tribune,” cried I, as he lay upon 
 the ground, “you have had one specimen of 
 my art to-day, now you shall have another. 
 Learn in future to respect an Arab.” I 
 caught his horse’s bridle, gave the animal a 
 lash, and we bounded away together. 'The 
 scene was visible to the whole camp; the 
 troopers who had reined up on the de- 
 clivity, gave a roar of merriment, and I 
 heard the old corpulent captain’s laugh 
 above it all. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 I had escaped ; but the delay was ruinous. 
 The sun sank when I reached the brow of 
 the mountain, and Masada lay many a weary 
 mile forward. I cast off the tribune’s horse, 
 thus giving his insolent master evidence that 
 I did not understand the main point of my 
 trade, and stood pondering to what point of 
 the mighty ridge that rose blue along the 
 horizon I should turn, when, in the plunge 
 of the horse, as he felt himself at liberty, his 
 saddle came to the ground. The possibility 
 of its containing reports of the state of the 
 enemy led me to examine its pockets ; they 
 were stuffed with letters worthy of the high- 
 lest circles of Italian high life; the in- 
 i' spelled registers of vapidity at a loss how to 
 jlose its time; of libertinism sick of indu- 
 lgence; and of pecuniary embarrassment 
 (driven to the most hopeless and whimsical 
 resources. 
 
 A glance at a few of these epistles was 
 1 enough, and I scattered into the air the repu- 
 tations of half the high born maids and ma- 
 trons of Rome. But, as I was turning 
 away with an instinctive exclamation of 
 i scorn at this compendium of patrician life 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 85 
 
 my eye was caught by a letter addressed to 
 the governor of Masada. In opening it, I 
 committed no violence of diplomacy; for it 
 held no secret, other than an angry remission \ 
 of his allegiance by some wearied fair one, 
 who announced her intended marriage with 
 the tribune. 
 
 My revenge was thus to go farther than my 
 intent ; for I deprived him of the personal tri- 
 umph of delivering this calamitous despatch 
 to his rival. Yet, on second thoughts, con- 
 ceiving that some cipher might lurk under 
 its absurdity, I secured the paper, and giving 
 the rein, left the whole secret correspond- 
 ence of debt, libel and love, to the delight of 
 mankind. 
 
 I flew along; my indefatigable barb, as if 
 she felt her master’s anxieties, pul forth 
 double speed. But I had yet a fearful length 
 to traverse. The night fell thick and rude ; 
 but I had no time to think of rest or shelter. I 
 pushed on. The wind rose, and wrapt me 
 in whirls of sand. I heard the roar of waters. 
 The ground became fractured, and full of the 
 loose fragments that fall from rocky hills. I 
 discovered only that I was at the foot of the 
 ridge, and had lost my way. In this embar- 
 rassment I trusted to the sagacity of my steed. 
 But thirst led her directly to the bed of one 
 of the mountain torrents, and the phosphoric 
 gleam of waters alone saved us both from a 
 plunge over a precipice deep enough to extin- 
 guish every appetite and ambition in the 
 round of this bustling world. 
 
 *■ To find a passage or an escape I alighted. 
 The torrent bellowed before me. A wall of 
 rock rose on the opposite side. After long 
 climbings and descents, I found that I had 
 descended too deep to return. Oh, how I 
 longed for trace of man, for the feeblest light 
 that ever twinkled from cottage window! I 
 felt the plague of helplessness. To attempt 
 the waters was impossible. To linger where 
 1 stood till dawn, was misery. 
 
 “ What would be going on in the mean 
 while 1 Perhaps, at the very time while 
 I was standing in wretched doubt, imprison- 
 ed among those pestilent cliffs, shivering 
 with the spray and the storm, and yet more 
 chilled with bitter incertitude, the deed 
 was doing! Constantius was with ineffect- 
 ual gallantry assaulting the fortress; my 
 brave kinsmen were pouring out their lives 
 under the Roman spears; and I was not 
 there !” 
 
 A fitful sound came mingling with the 
 roar of the cataract ; it swelled, and vanished 
 away, like the rustling of the gale. A trum- 
 pet rang, but so feebiy, that nothing but the 
 keenness of an ear straining to catch the 
 slightest sound could have distinguished it. 
 
 I heard remote shouts ; they deepened ; the 
 echo of trumpets followed, “ The assault 
 
 I had begun ! The work of glory and death 
 j was doing. Every instant cost a life. The 
 hailstones that bruised me were not thicker 
 : than the arrows that were then smiting down 
 my people. Yet there was I, held like a wolf 
 in the pitfall !” 
 
 Even where the combat was being fought, 
 baffled my conception. It might be in the 
 clouds, or under ground, on the opposite of 
 the black ridge before me, or many a league 
 beyond the reach of my exhausted limbs and 
 drooping steed ; all was darkness to the eye 
 and the mind. 
 
 j A light flashed down a ravine, leading in- 
 to the heart of the mountains: another and 
 another rose. Masada stood upon the moun- 
 tain’s brow ! 
 
 I plunged into the torrent — was beaten 
 down by the billows — was swept along 
 through narrow necks of rock, and, half suf- 
 focated, was hurled up again, to find rnyself 
 ion the opposite shore. Wet and weary, I 
 'less climbed than tore my way upwards. But 
 the torrent had bore me far below the ravine. 
 Before me was a gigantic rampart of rock. 
 But the time was flying. I sprang with 
 fierce agility from fissure to fissure. 1 dragged 
 myself up the face of the precipice by the 
 tufted weeds and, chance brushwood. I 
 swung from point to point by the few pro- 
 jecting branches, that yet broke away almost 
 in my grasp; until, with my hands excoriated, 
 my limbs stiff and bleeding, and my head 
 reeling, I reached the pinnacle. 
 
 Was I under the dominion of a spell? was 
 the power of some fiend, raised to mock me ? 
 All was darkness as far as the eye could 
 pierce: the heaviest veil of midnight hung 
 upon the earth. There was utter silence. 
 Not the slightest breath touched upon the 
 ear. 
 
 For a while the thought of some strange 
 illusion was paramount; then carne the 
 frightful idea that the illusion was in myself; 
 that in the effort to gain the ascent, I had 
 strained eye and ear, until I could neither 
 hear nor see ; that I still was within sight 
 and sound of battle, but insensible to the im- 
 pressions of the external world for ever. Im- 
 mortality under this exclusion ! A death- 
 lessness of the deaf and blind ! The thought 
 struck me with a force inconceivable by all 
 minds but one sentenced like mine ! 
 
 I cried aloud. A flood of joy rushed into 
 my heart when I heard my voice answered ; 
 
 1 though it was but by the neigh of my barb 
 below, which probably felt itself as ill-placed 
 as its master. I now’ used my ear as the 
 i guide, and cautiously descending the farther 
 side of the ridge, was soon on comparatively 
 level ground, the remnant of a forest. My foot 
 struck against a human body ; T spoke ; the 
 i answer was a groan, and an entreaty that 1 
 
86 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 should bear a small packet, which was put 
 into my hands with a feeble pressure, to “ the 
 prince of Naphtali!” In alarm and as- 
 tonishment, I raised the sufferer from the 
 thorns in which he could scarcely breathe ; 
 gave him some water from my flask, and 
 after many an effort, in which I thought that 
 life would depart every moment, he told me 
 that “ he was the unfortunate leader of the 
 assault of Masada.” Constant! us lay in my 
 arms ! 
 
 “ Where I am,” said he, “ how I came 
 here, or any thing, hut that we are undone, I 
 cannot conceive. My last recollection was 
 that of fixing the ladder to the inner rampart. 
 We had made our way good so far without 
 much loss. The garrison was weakened by 
 detachments sent out to plunder for the ar- 
 rival of the procurator. I attacked at mid- 
 night. To surprise a Roman fortress was, I 
 well know, next to impossible; and no man 
 ever found a Roman garrison without bravery. 
 But our bold fellows did wonders. Every 
 thing was driven from the first rampart ; we 
 made more prisoners than we knew what to 
 do with ; and in the midst of all kinds of re- 
 sistance, we laid the ladders to the second 
 wall. But the garrison was still too strong 
 for us. Our easy conquest of the first line 
 might have been a snare,’ for the battlements 
 before us exhibited an overwhelming force. 
 We fought on ; but the ladders were broken 
 with showers of stones from the engines. 
 The business looked desperate; but I had 
 made up my mind not to go back after having 
 once got in; and, rallying the men, carried 
 a ladder through a storm of lances and 
 arrows to the foot of the main tower. I 
 was bravely followed, and we were within 
 grasp of the battlement, when I saw a co- 
 hort rush out from a sally-port below. This 
 was fatal ; the foot of the rampart was clear- 
 ed at once; the ladders were flung down; 
 and I suppose it is owing to the ill-judged 
 fidelity of some of my followers, that [ am 
 unfortunate enough to find myself here and 
 alive.” 
 
 During the endless hours of this miserable 
 night, I labored, with scarcely a hope, to 
 keep life in my heroic son. My coming had 
 saved him. The exposure of his wounds 
 must have destroyed him before morning. 
 We consulted sadly on our next course. 1 
 suggested the possibility of gaining the fort- 
 ress by a renewal of the attack, while the 
 garrison were unprepared, or perhaps indulg- 
 ing themselves in carousal or sleep after suc- 
 cess. The necessity of some attempts was 
 strongly in my mind, and I expressed my de- 
 termination to run the hazard, if I could find 
 where the remnant of our troop had taken 
 refuge. But this was the first difficulty. 
 Signals of any kind must rouse the vigilance 
 
 of the Romans. The fortress was above our 
 heads; and to collect the men during the 
 night was impossible. 
 
 While I watched the restless tossings of 
 Oonstantius, a light stole along the ground 
 at a distance. My first idea was, that a 
 Roman patrol was coming, to extinguish our 
 last remains of hope. But the fight was 
 soon perceived to be in the hand of some one 
 cautious of discovery. To keep its bearer at 
 a distance, I followed the track, and grasped 
 him. 
 
 “ I surrender,” said the captive, perfectly 
 at his ease; “Long life to the Emperor!” 
 He lifted the lamp to my face, and burst into 
 laughter. “ May I have a Roman falchion 
 through me,” said he, “but I think we were 
 born under the same planet. By all the food 
 that has entered my lips this day, I took your 
 highness for a thief; and, pardon the word, 
 for a Roman one. I have been running after 
 you the whole day and night.” He con- 
 tinued to talk and writhe with a kind of mad 
 merriment. I could not obtain an answer to 
 my questions, of what led him there — how he 
 could guide us out of the forest — or what news 
 he brought from the procurator. He less walk- 
 ed than danced before me through the thick- 
 ets, as our scene with Florus recurred to his 
 fantastic mind. 
 
 “ Never was a trick so capital as your es- 
 cape,” exclaimed he; “ I would have given 
 an eye, or an arm, things rather an impedi- 
 ment to a beggar, I allow ; but it would have 
 been worth a kingdom to see, as I saw, the 
 faces of the whole camp, procurator, officers, 
 troopers, and all, down to the horse-boys, on 
 your slipping through their fingers in such 
 first-rate style. I have done clever things in 
 my time. But never, no never, shall 1 equal 
 that way of making five thousand men at 
 once look like five thousand fools. I own I 
 thought that you would do something bril- 
 liant; and it was for that purpose that 1 tried 
 to draw off the eye of that scoundrel, Florus, 
 for, sot as he is, there are not ten in Pales- 
 tine keener in all points where roguery is 
 concerned. I caught hold of his robe, told 
 him a ready lie of the largest size about a dis- 
 covery of money in Jerusalem ; and while he 
 was nibbling at the bait, I heard the uproar. 
 You were off; I could not help laughing in 
 his illustrious face. He kicked me from 
 him, and, foaming with rage, ordered every 
 man and horse out after your highness. But 
 I saw at a glance, that you had the game in 
 your own hands. You skimmed away like a 
 bird ; an eagle could not have got up that 
 long hill in finer condition. Away you 
 went, bounding from steep to steep like a 
 stone from a sling; you cut the air like a shaft. 
 I have seen many a mare in my time; but as 
 for the equal of yours — why, a pair of wings 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 87 
 
 would be of no use to her. She is a para- 
 gon, a bird of paradise, an ostrich on four legs, 
 a ” 
 
 I checked his volubility, and led him to the 
 rough bedside of Constantius. I could not 
 have found a better auxiliary. He knew 
 every application used by the medicine of the 
 time; and, to give him credit on his own 
 showing, all diseases found in him an enemy 
 worth all the doctors of Asia. 
 
 “ He had travelled for his knowledge; he 
 had fought with death from the Nile to the 
 Ganges, and could swear that the sharks and 
 crocodiles owed him a grudge throughout the 
 world. He had cured rajahs and satraps, till 
 he made himself unpopular in every court 
 where men looked to vacancies; had kept 
 rich old men out of their graves, until there 
 was a general conspiracy of heirs to drive 
 him out of the country ; and had poured life 
 into so many dying husbands, that the women 
 made a universal combination against his 
 own.” 
 
 The flow of panegyric, however, did not 
 impede his present service. He applied his 
 herbs and bandages with professional dex- 
 terity, and kindling a fire, prepared some food 
 which went farther to cheer the patient than 
 even his medicine. He still talked away, 
 like one to whom words are a necessary es- 
 cape for his surcharge of animal spirits. 
 
 “ He knew every thing in physic. He had 
 studied in Egypt, and could compound the 
 true essential extract of mummy with any 
 man that wore a beard, from the Cataracts to 
 the bottom of the Delta. He once walked to 
 the mountains of the moon, to learn the se- 
 cret of powdered chrysolite. On the Himma- 
 leh he picked up his knowledge of the be- 
 zoar ; and a year’s march through sands and 
 snows rewarded him at once with a bag of 
 ginseng, most marvellous of roots, and the 
 sight of the wall of China, most endless of 
 walls.” 
 
 How he stooped to veil this accumulation 
 of knowledge in rags, he did not condescend 
 to explain. But his skill, so far, was cer- 
 tainly admirable, and my brave Constantius 
 recovered with a suddenness that surprised 
 me. With his strength, his hopes returned. 
 
 “ Oh,” exclaimed he, awaking from a re- 
 freshing sleep, “ that I were once again at 
 the foot of the rampart, with the ladder in my 
 hand !” 
 
 “ By my father’s beard,” replied the leech, 
 “ you are much better where you are : for, 
 observe, though I can go farther than any 
 doctor between the four rivers, yet I never 
 professed to cure the dead. Take Masada by 
 scale ! Ha, ha ! take the clouds by scale ! 
 You would have found three walls within 
 the one to which they decoyed you. Herod 
 was the prince of builders, and could have. 
 
 built out every thing, but the champion that 
 carries no arms but a scythe, and cares as 
 little for king Herod, as for Sabat the beg- 
 gar.” 
 
 “ Then you know Masada 1 ” interrupted I 
 eagerly. 
 
 “Know it, yes; every loophole, window, 
 door, aye — and stocks, from one end of it to 
 the other.” 
 
 But my escape from the camp was so con- 
 genial to his ideas of pleasantry, that it ming- 
 led with all his topics. War and politics 
 went for nothing, compared with the adroit- . 
 ness of eluding Roman activity. “ By Jove 1” 
 said he, “ when I played my tricks with that 
 pearl of pearls, that supreme of horseflesh, 
 your barb, [ was clumsy ; I played the clown ; 
 you beat me hollow; it was matchless; it 
 was my purse in prospect of your generosity 
 to its emptiness this night;” he made a pro- 
 found obeisance. — “ To see those panting fel- 
 lows climbing up the hill after you, nearly 
 killed me.” 
 
 “ But the fortress.” 
 
 “ Why, as to the fortress, the notion of at- 
 tacking it was madness. I had my doubts of 
 your intention: and broke loose from the 
 camp to give you the benefit of my advice. 
 But the tribune ! Ha, ha ! never was cox- 
 comb so rightly served. You won the heart 
 of the whole legion by the single blow that 
 saved him the trouble of sitting on his horse. 
 The troopers could not keep their saddles for 
 laughing ; and as for the fat old captain, I 
 was only afraid that he would roar himself 
 out of the world. I confess, I owed my escape 
 partly to him, and his last words were, ‘ Ras- 
 cal, if you ever fall in with the Arab, whom 
 I suspect to be as pleasant a rogue as your- 
 self, tell him I wish I had a dozen such in my 
 squadron.’ ” 
 
 “ But is there any possibility of knowing 
 the present state of the garrison 1” 
 
 “ Aye, there is the misfortune. Yesterday 
 I could have got in, and got out again, like a 
 wild cat. But after this night’s visit, it is 
 not too much to suppose, that they may be a 
 little more select in their hospitality. The 
 governor had a slight correspondence of his 
 own to carry on ; a trifle in the way of trade ; 
 I had the honor to be smuggler extraordinary 
 to his Mightiness ; and, as in state secrets 
 every thing ought to be kept from the vul- 
 gar, my path in and out was by a portcullis, 
 far enough from gates and sentinels; through 
 which portcullis I should have shown you the 
 way, if the attack had waited for me a few 
 hours longer. That chance is of course cut off 
 now. But see, yonder comes the morning.” 
 
 “ Then we must move, or have the garri- 
 son on us.” 
 
 “ I forbid that manoeuvre,” interrupted the 
 I fellow with easy audacity. 
 
88 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 Constantius and I, in equal surprise, bade 
 him be silent. Yet the quietness with which 
 he took the rebuke propitiated me, and I ask- 
 ed his reason. 
 
 “ Nothing more than that, if you stir, you 
 are ruined. The hare is safest near the ken- 
 nel. The outlaw sleeps sounder in the mag- 
 istrate’s house, than he ever slept in his den. 
 I once escaped hanging, by coolly walking 
 into a jail. There stands Masada!” and he 
 pointed to what looked to me a heap of black 
 clouds gathered on the mountain’s brow 
 above. 
 
 “ Not a soul that you have left alive there, 
 will dream of your being within a stone’s 
 throw. The copse is thick enough to hide a 
 man from every thing but a creditor, an 
 evil conscience, or a wife; stir out of it, and 
 they are on your heels. And I dislike them 
 so heartily, that I hope never to have the 
 honor of their attendance. But you are not 
 mad enough to think of trying them again!” 
 
 “ Mad, fellow !” I exclaimed ; “ you forget 
 in whose presence you are.” He continued 
 making some new arrangement of the band- 
 ages on his patient’s wounds; and, without 
 taking the slightest notice of my displeasure, 
 cheered his work with a song. 
 
 “ Mad or wise,” said I, in soliloquy, “ I 
 shall lie in the ditch of that fortress, or in its 
 citadel, before next sunrise.” 
 
 “ You may lie in both, said the beggar, 
 pursuing his occupation and his song. 
 “Mad!” why not; all the world are in the 
 same way. The Emperor is mad enough to 
 stay where men have hands and knives. His 
 people are mad enough to let their throats be 
 cut by him. Florus is mad enough to sleep 
 another night in Palestine. You are mad 
 enough to attack his garrison ; and I — am 
 mad enough to go along with you.” 
 
 “You are a singular being. But will you 
 hazard your neck for nothing!” 
 
 “ Custom makes everything easy,” observ- 
 ed he, spanning his muscular neck with his 
 hand. “1 have been so many years within 
 sight of the cord, and all such expeditious 
 modes of paying the only debt I ever intend- 
 ed to pay, and that only because it is the last, 
 that I care as little about the venture, as any 
 broken gambler about his last coin. The 
 tables are ready, dice in hand, the stakes 
 down ; and before the next sun peeps in upon 
 our play, we three shall have our fortunes 
 made, or shall lie without caring a straw for 
 the spite of fortune. My plan is this; I must 
 get into the town, you must gather your troop 
 whhont, noise, and be ready for my signal, a 
 light from one of the towers. A false attack 
 must be made on the gates, a true attack 
 must be made by the portcullis, which, if it 
 be not stopped up, I will unlock ; and never 
 trust me, if your highness does not eat your 
 
 * 
 
 next supper off the governor’s plate. There’s 
 a plan for you. I should have been a gene- 
 ral. But merit, — aye, there’s the rub, — 
 merit is like the camel’s lading, it stops him 
 at the gate, while the empty slip in. It is 
 putting wings upon one’s shoulders, when 
 the race is to be run upon the ground. Too 
 much brain in a man is like too much bend 
 in a bow ; the bow either breaks, or sends 
 the arrow a mile beyond the mark. Genius, 
 my prince, is — ” 
 
 I interrupted the general in his progress 
 into the philosopher, and demanded whether 
 the renewed vigilance of the fortress would 
 not require some additional expedient for his 
 entry. He struck his forehead ; the thought 
 came, as the flint gives its spark, and he pro- 
 duced a highly ornamented tablet. “This,” 
 said he, “ I ought to employ in your service ; 
 for if you had not knocked down the tribune, 
 I could never have picked it up. In making 
 my run over the mountain, I struck upon his 
 correspondence. Oh! the curse of curiosity ! 
 if I had not stopped to delight myself with 
 the whole scandal of Rome, I should have 
 been here in time. But I lingered, lost an 
 hour in laughing, and when I set out in the 
 dusk, lost my way, for the first time in my 
 life. Before setting off, however, I wrote a 
 letter ridiculing Florus in all points, bur- 
 lesquing the people about him, scoffing at 
 every body in the most heroic style ; and 
 having subscribed the name of the unlucky 
 tribune, addressed it to one of the most noto- 
 rious personages in all Italy ; and placed it 
 where it is sure to be seen, and as sure to be 
 carried to the most noble of procurators. 
 Now, could I not begin a correspon- 
 dence with the governor, and act the cou- 
 rier myself! Yet, to hit upon the sub- 
 ject — ” He paused. 
 
 The letter that I had found, occurred to 
 me. I showed it to our adroit friend. He 
 was in ecstacies. He kissed it over and over, 
 and played some of those antics which had 
 already made me half doubt his sanity. He 
 flung down the tablet. “Go,” said he, “ fic- 
 tion is a fine thing in its way. But give me 
 fact, when I want to entrap a great man. 
 He is so little used to truth, that the least 
 atom of it is a spell : the fresh bait will carry 
 the largest hook. Aye, this is the letter for 
 us ; it has the sincerity of the sex, when they 
 are determined to jilt a man; its abuse will 
 cover me from top to toe with the cloak of a 
 true ambassador.” 
 
 “ But the unpopularity of your credentials,” 
 said T, laughingly. 
 
 “ Let the potentate by whom thpy are sent, 
 settle that affair with the potentate by whom 
 they are received,” replied he. 
 
 “You will be hanged.” 
 
 “ I shall first get in.” 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 . The day passed anxiously, for every sound 
 of the huge fortress was heard in the thicket. 
 The creaking of the machines, brought up 
 to the wall against future assault; the rat- 
 tling of hammers ; the rolling of wagons 
 loaded with the materials for the repair of 
 the night’s damage; the calls of trumpet and 
 clarion, and the march of patroles, rang per- 
 petually in our ears. The depth of the copse, 
 and its nearness to the ramparts, justified 
 the beggar’s generalship, and the son of El 
 Hakim proved himself a master of the art of 
 castrametation. Nothing could exceed his 
 alertness in threading the mazes of this 
 dwarf forest, where a wolf could scarcely have 
 made progress; and where a lynx would 
 have required all his eyes. 
 
 On my asking how he contrived to find his 
 way through this labyrinth, he told me, that 
 “for making one’s way in woods and else- 
 where, there was nothing like a familiarity 
 with smuggling, and the state.” 
 
 “ The man,” continued he, “ who has driven 
 a trade in every thing, from pearls to pista- 
 chios, without leave of the customs, cannot 
 be much puzzled by thickets; and the man 
 who has contrived to climb into confidence at 
 < court, must have had a talent for keeping his 
 feet in the most slippery spots, or he never 
 ! could have mounted the back stairs!” 
 i, He collected the troop, of whom I was re- 
 joiced to believe that but few had fallen, 
 
 1 though nearly one half were made prisoners ; 
 they were eager to attempt the rampart 
 again, all. boldly attributing their failure to 
 accident, and all thirsting alike for the res- 
 cue of their comrades, and for revenge. The 
 letter was given to our emissary, and I as- 
 cended the loftiest of the mountain pinnacles, 
 to examine for myself the nature of the 
 ground. 
 
 From my height the view was complete; 
 the whole interior of the fortress lay open: 
 and in the same glance, 1 saw the grace and 
 regal grandeur of design, which Greek taste 
 could stamp even upon the strength of mili- 
 tary architecture, and the utter hopelessness 
 of any direct assault upon Masada, by less 
 i than an army. 
 
 Who but he that has actually been in the 
 same situation, can conceive the feelings 
 with which I gazed ! Below me, was the 
 spot in which a tew hours must see me con- 
 queror or nothing ! On that battlement, I 
 might, before another morn, be stretched in 
 blood ! on that tower I might be fixed a hor- 
 rid spectacle! Nature is irresistible, and her 
 workings overpowered the old belief, that a 
 mysterious sentence was to give me a mise- 
 rable perpetuity of life. The thought has al- 
 
 i ways terribly returned ; but the moment of 
 energy has always extinguished it; the bur- 
 i rying and swelling current of my heart rolled 
 over it, as the summer torrent rushes over 
 the tomb on its brink. The melancholy me- 
 ! morial was there, sure to re-appear with the 
 first subsiding ; but lost while the flood of 
 feeling whirled along. 
 
 Every group of soldiery that slept, or sang, 
 or gamed, or gazed, along the ramparts un- 
 der the bright and quiet day which followed 
 so fearful a night; every archer pacing on 
 his tower; every solitary wanderer in the 
 streets ; every change of the guard ; every 
 entering courier ; was visible to me, and all 
 were objects of keen interest. At length, 
 
 , my courier came. I saw his approach from 
 1 a pass of the mountains at the remotest point 
 from our cover, his well-contrived exhaus- 
 tion, the ostentatious dust upon his tattered 
 habiliments, and the fearless impudence with 
 which he beguiled the sulky guard at the 
 gate, and stalked before the centurion by 
 whom he was brought to the Governor. 
 
 With what eyes of impatience I now 
 watched the sun ! I wished for the power of 
 extinguishing day from the heavens. As the 
 hour of fate approached, the fever of the mind 
 I grew. To defer the attack beyond the night, 
 was to abandon it ; for by morn the troops 
 'under Florus must reach Masada. Yet a 
 strange sensation, a chilliness of heart, some- 
 times came on me, in which my hands were 
 as feeble as an infant’s. I felt like one be- 
 fore a tribunal, awaiting the word that must 
 decide his destiny. Nothing tries the soul 
 more deeply than this concentration of its 
 fortunes into a few moments. The man sees 
 j himself standing on the edge of a precipice 
 down which there is no second step. But 
 the thought of returning errandless and hu- 
 miliated, and this too, from my first enter- 
 prise, was intense bitterness. I made my 
 ' decision. From that instant I breathed free- 
 ly, my strength returned, hope glowed in my 
 j bosom ; and, clinging to the granite spire of 
 the mountain, I looked down upon the haughty 
 strong-hold, like its evil genius descending 
 from the clouds. 
 
 The sun touched the western ridge. A 
 horseman came at full stretch across the 
 plain at its foot, and entered the fortress. He 
 evidently brought news of importance, for the 
 I troops were hurried under arms, flags hoist- 
 1 ed on the ramparts, and the walls lined with 
 archers. All was military bustle. 
 
 I My first conception was, that mv emissary 
 had betrayed us, and that we were about to be 
 attacked.' I plunged from the pinnacle, and 
 was following the windings of the goat-track 
 | to our lair, when I saw the rising of a cloud 
 I of dust in the distance. It moved with great 
 1 rapidity, and soon developed its contents. In- 
 
90 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 telligence of the assault had reached Florus. 
 His sagacity saw what perils turned on the 
 loss of the fortress; he shook off his indo- 
 lence, and came, without delay, to its succor. 
 Banners, helmets, and scarlet cloaks, poured 
 across the plain. A torrent of brass, burn- 
 ing and flashing in the sunbeam, continued to 
 roll down the defile; and before the evening 
 star glittered, the whole cavalry of the fif- 
 teenth legion was trampling over the draw- 
 bridge of Masada. 
 
 Here was the death-blow. My enterprise 
 was henceforth ten-fold more hopeless ; but 
 with me the time for prudence was past. If 
 the reinforcement had arrived but an hour 
 before, 1 should probably have given up the 
 attempt in despair. But my mind was fixed, 
 I had made an internal vow ; a.Vl if the whole 
 host of Rome were crowded within the walls 
 beneath, I should have hazarded the assault. 
 
 I descended, found my troop collected, and, 
 to my alarm and vexation, Constantins, en- 
 feebled as he was, obstinately determined to 
 assault the rampart again. With the noble 
 daring of his enthusiastic heart he told me 
 that unless 1 suffered him to attempt the 
 retrieval of his defeat, he felt it impossible to 
 survive. 
 
 “ Shame and grief,” said he, “ are as dead- 
 ly as the sword ; and never will I return to 
 the face of her whom I love, nor of the fam- 
 ily whom 1 honor, unless I can return with 
 the consciousness of having at least deserved 
 to be successful.” 
 
 Against this I reasoned, but reasoned in 
 vain. We finally divided our followers. I 
 gave him the attack of the rampart, which 
 was to be the place of his triumph or his 
 grave ; flung myself into his embrace, and 
 listened to his parting steps, with a heart 
 throbbing at every tread. I then moved 
 round the foot of the mountain towards the 
 secret passage. 
 
 The night fell dark as we could wish. I 
 waited . impatiently for the signal, a light 
 from the walls. Yet, no signal twinkled from 
 wall or tower, and I began to distrust again ; 
 but while I lingered, a shout told me that 
 Constantius was already engaged. “ Let 
 what will come,” exclaimed I, “ Onward.” 
 
 We scrambled up the face of the rock, and 
 at length found the entrance of the subter- 
 ranean. It was so narrow, that even in the 
 day-time it must have been nearly invisible 
 from below. A low iron door a few yards 
 within the fissure was the first obstacle. To 
 beat it down might alarm the garrison. The 
 passage allowed but of our advance one by 
 one. I led the way, hatchet in hand. A few 
 blows given with as little noise as possible, 
 broke the stones round the lock. The door 
 gave way, and we all crept in. In this man- 
 ner we wound along for a distance, which I 
 
 began to think endless. The passage was sin- 
 gularly toilsome. We ascended considerable 
 heights, we descended steep paths, in which 
 it was with the utmost difficulty that we could 
 keep our feet; we heard the rush of waters 
 through the darkness; blasts of bitter wind 
 swept against us; the thick and heavy air 
 that closed around us after them, almost im- 
 peded our breathing, and from time time the 
 vapor of sulphur gave the fearful impression 
 that we had lost our way, and were actually 
 engulfed in the bowels of a burning mine. 
 
 The hearts of my hunters were bold, and 
 they still held on ; but the mere fatigue of 
 struggling through this poisoned atmosphere, 
 was fast exhausting their courage. I cheer- 
 ed them with what topics I could, but never 
 was tny imagination more barren. I heard, 
 at every step I took, fewer feet following 
 me. The close and pestilential air was be- 
 ginning to act even upon myself: but the 
 great stake was playing above, and onward I 
 must go. I dared not speak louder than in 
 a whisper; soon no whisper responded to 
 mine. I tottered on, till, overpowered by the 
 feeling that our sacrifice was in vain, a sen- 
 sation like that of a sickly propensity to sleep 
 bound up my faculties ; and, whether I slept or 
 fainted, I for a time lost all recollection. 
 
 A roar, like thunder, roused me. A sight 
 the most superb burst on my awaking eyes; 
 a roof of gold, arched so high, that even its 
 splendor was partially dimmed ; walls of 
 diamond, pillared with a thousand columns 
 of every precious gem ; whole shafts of em- 
 erald ; pavilions of jasper and beryl ; couches 
 wrought with pearl and silver; a floor as tar 
 as the glance could pierce, studded with 
 amethyst and ruby ; treasures, to which the 
 accumulated spoils of the Greek or the Per- 
 sian were nothing; the finest devices of the 
 most exquisite art, mingled with the most 
 collossal forms which wealth could wear ; ; 
 opulence in its massive and negligent gran- 
 deur ; opulence in its delicate, and almost 
 spiritualized beauty, were before me. A 
 slender flame burning at the foot of an idol, 
 lighted up this stupendous temple. 
 
 I was alone; but the orifice by which I 
 had entered was visible ; the light shot far 
 down into it, and I soon collected the great- 
 er number of my troop. All were equally 
 wrapt in wonder, and the superstitious feel- 
 ings which the presence of the Roman and 
 Syrian idolaters had partially generated even 
 in the Jewish mind, began to startle those 
 brave men. 
 
 “ We had, perhaps, come into forbidden 
 ground ; the gods of the earth, whether gods 
 or demons, were powerful ; and we stood in 
 the violated centre of the mountain.” 
 
 For the first time, I found the failure of 
 my influence. A few adhered to me, but the 
 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 91 
 
 majority calmly declared that, however fear- 
 less of man, they dared go no farther. I 
 threw myself on the ground before the en- 
 trance of the cavern, and desired them to 
 consummate their crime by trampling on 
 their prince and leader. But they were de- 
 termined to retire. I taunted them, I ad- 
 jured them, I poured out the most vehe- 
 ment reproaches. They stepped over me, 
 as I lay at the mouth of the fissure; and 
 at length one and all left me to cry out in 
 my dazzling solitude, against the treachery 
 of human faith and the emptiness of human 
 wishes. _ J 
 
 The roar again rolled above ; I heard dis- 
 tant shouts and trumpets. In the sudden and 
 desperate consciousness that all was now to 
 be gained or lost, I rushed after the fugitives, 
 to force them back. I plunged into the dark- 
 ness, and grasped the first figure that I could 
 overtake. My hand fell on the iron cuirass 
 of a Roman ! my blood ran chill. “ We were 
 betrayed ; decoyed into the bowels of the 
 mountain to be massacred.” 
 
 The figure started from me. I gave a 
 blind blow of the axe, and heard it crush 
 through his helmet. The man fell at my 
 feet. I wildly demanded, “ How he came 
 there, and how we might make our way intol 
 the light?” 
 
 “ You are undone,” said he, faintly. “ Your 
 spy was seized by the procurator. Your at- 
 tack was known, and the door of the subter- 
 ranean left unguarded, to entrap you. This 
 passage was the entrance to a former mine ; 
 and in the mine is your grave.” The voice 
 sank, he groaned, and was no more. 
 
 His words were soon confirmed by the' 
 hurried return of my men. They had found 
 the passage obstructed by a portcullis, dropt 
 since their entrance. Torches were seen' 
 through the fissures above, and the sound of 
 arms rattled round ns. The ambush was 
 complete. “ Now,” said I, “ we have but one 
 thing for it ; — the sword, first for our enemy, j 
 last for ourselves. If we must die, let us not 
 die by Roman halters.” 
 
 One and all, we rushed back into the 
 mine. But we had now no leisure to look 
 upon the beauty of those spars and crystals, 
 which, under the light of the altar, glittered 
 and blushed with such gem-like radiance. 
 From that altar rose a fierce and broad pyr- 
 amid of fire; piles of fagots, continually 
 poured from a grating above, fed the blaze to 
 intolerable fierceness. Smoke filled the 
 mine. To escape was beyond hope. The 
 single orifice had been already tried. Around 
 us was a solid wall as old as the world. It 
 was already heating with the blaze; our 
 feet shrank from the floor. The flame shoot- 
 ing in a thousand spires, coiled and sprang 
 against the roof, the walls, and the ground. 
 
 To remain where we were was to be a cinder. 
 The catastrophe was inevitable ! 
 
 In the madness of pain I made a furious 
 bound into the column of fire. All followed, 
 for death was certain, and the sooner it came 
 the better. With unspeakable feelings I saw, 
 at the back of the mound of stone on which 
 the fagots burned, an opening, hitherto con- 
 cealed by the huge figure of the idol. We 
 crowded into it ; here we were at least out of 
 reach of the flame. But what was our chance 
 but that of a more lingering death? We 
 hurried in ; a portcullis stood across the pas- 
 sage ! What was to be our fate, but famine ? 
 We must perish in a lingering misery — of 
 all miseries the most appalling; and with the 
 bitter aggravation of perishing unknown, 
 worthless, useless, stigmatized for slaves or 
 dastards! What man of Israel would ever 
 hear of our death ? What chronicler of Rome 
 would deign to vindicate our absence from 
 the combat ? 
 
 We were within hearing of that combat. 
 The assault thundered more wildly than ever 
 over our heads ; the alternate shout of Jew 
 and Roman descended to us. But where 
 were we ? caged, dungeoned, doomed ! If 
 the earth had laid her treasures at my feet 
 that night, I would have given them for one 
 hour of freedom — one saving, hallowed effort. 
 Oh ! for one struggle beside my warriors, to 
 redeem my name, and avenge my country. 
 The contrast subdued me utterly. I sank into 
 a corner and wept like a child. 
 
 The roar of battle grew feeble. “ Was all 
 lost ? Constantins slain ? for with life he 
 would not yield. Was the whole hope of 
 Judea crushed at a blow 1” I cried aloud to 
 my followers to force the portcullis. They 
 dragged and tore at the bars. But it was of 
 a solid strength that not ten times ours could 
 master. 
 
 In the mist of our hopeless labors, the 
 sound of heavy blows above caught my ear, 
 and fragments of rock fell in ; the blows were 
 continued. Was this but a new expedient to 
 crush or suffocate us ? 
 
 A crevice showed the light of a torch over- 
 head. I grasped the axe to strike a last 
 blow at the gate, and die. I heard a voice 
 pronounce my name ! Another blow opened 
 the roof. A face bent down, and a loud 
 laugh proclaimed my crazy friend. “ Ha !” 
 said he, “are you there at last? You have 
 had a hard night’s work of it. But, come 
 up; I have an incomparable joke to tell you 
 about the tribune and the procurator. Come 
 up, my prince, and see the world.” 
 
 I had no time to rebuke his jocularity. I 
 climbed up the side of the passage, and found 
 myself still in a dungeon. To my look of 
 disappointment he gave no other answer than 
 a laugh ; and unscrewing a bar from the loop- 
 
92 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 hole above his head, “It is ray custom,”! 
 said he, “ to make myself at my ease 
 wherever I go; and as prisons fall to a 
 man’s lot, like other things, I like to be! 
 able to leave my mansion whenever I am 
 tired of it.” 
 
 “ Forward, then,” said I, impatiently. 
 
 “ Backward,” said the beggar, with the 
 most unruffled coolness. “ That loop-hole is 
 for me alone. I may be under the governor’s 
 care again, and I have showed it to you now 
 merely as a curiosity. Drink, my brave fel- 
 lows,” said he, turning to the troop below, 
 and giving them a skin of wine. “Soldiers 
 must have their comforts, my gallant prince, 
 as well as beggars. If that villain Procura- 
 tor had not come by express (for no man alive 
 is quicker to catch an idea, where he is like- 
 ly to lose or gain,) you should have been by 
 this time sleeping in the governor’s bed, and 
 the governor, probably, supping with me. 
 But all is fortune, good and bad, in this world. 
 The Procurator, putting . your escape and 
 mine together, began to think that his pre- 
 sence might be useful here; and the laziest 
 rogue in Palestine came with a speed that 
 might have done honor to the quickest, who 
 stands before you in my person. I had gone 
 on swimmingly with the governor on the 
 strength of your love-letter, angry as it made 
 him. But the first sight of Florus put an end 
 to my chance of opening the gates for your 
 triumphal entry. I was tied, neck and heels, 
 and flung here, to be gibbeted to-morrow morn- 
 ing. But that morning has not come yet.” 
 
 He paced the cell uneasily. At length he 
 sprang up, and looking from the loop-hole, 
 whispered, “ Now !” A low, creaking sound 
 of machinery followed. “Down into the 
 cavern,” said he, “ that accursed cohort has 
 moved at last. Away, my prince, and seek 
 your fortune.” 
 
 , I exhibited some reluctance to be engulfed 
 again. But his countenance assumed a sud- 
 den sternness. His only word was, “ Down !” 
 As we were parting, he solemnly pronounced 
 — “ May whatever power befriends the right- 
 eous cause, and blasts the man of infamy and 
 blood, send the lightnings before you !” A 
 tear stood in his uplifted eye. His worn 
 countenance flushed as he spoke the words. 
 He seized a spear from a corner, and plunged 
 after me into the cavern. 
 
 The portcullis no longer obstructed us; 
 the passage opened at the foot of the ram- 
 part. M v heart bounded ; I could have rushed 
 upon an army. The same eagerness was in 
 us all. But the hand of my guide was on 
 my shoulder. “ Your attack,” said he, “ can be 
 nothing, unless it be a surprise. Move along 
 unseen, if possible, till you come to the flank 
 of the first tower. There wait for my signal !” 
 I demanded its nature. But he was gone. 
 
 The sound of the assault swelled again, 
 
 ! though it was palpably receding. I climbed 
 the rampart alone. The torches on a distant 
 battlement showed me the Romans in force, 
 j and evidently making way. I could restrain 
 myself no longer. My troop, too, murmured 
 at their inaction. I gave the word — led them 
 on — concealed by the shadow of the colossal 
 wall, saw the Romans crowding on the bat- 
 tlements above, fell upon the guard at the 
 gate, and cast it open ! 
 
 Constantius was the first that saw me. He 
 sprang forward, with a cry of exultation. 
 The Romans on the battlement felt them- 
 selves cut off, were struck with panic, and 
 threw down their arms ; but we had more im- 
 portant objects, and rushed back to the cita- 
 del. Our work was not yet done ; we were 
 entangled in the streets, and lost time. The 
 garrison was strong, and fought like men who 
 had no resource but in the sword. We were 
 pressed on all sides ; an arrow lodged in my 
 shoulder, and I could wield the axe no more. 
 In a few discharges, every man round me 
 was bruised or bleeding. I saw a Roman 
 column hurrying along the rampart, whose 
 charge must finish the battle at once. Butin 
 the instant of despair, a blaze sprang up in 
 the rear of the enemy. Another and another 
 followed. The governor’s palace was on 
 fire ! The sight broke the Roman courage. 
 Cries of treachery rang through the ranks; 
 they turned, flung away spear and shield, and 
 I was master of the strongest fortress in Pal- 
 estine ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Resistance was at an end, and we had 
 now nothing to do but to prevent the confla- 
 gration from snatching the prize out of our 
 hands. The flames rose menacingly from 
 the roof of the palace; and another hour 
 might see the famous arsenal beyond the 
 power of man. Leaving to Constantius the 
 care of securing the prisoners, I entered the 
 palace, followed by a detachment. In the 
 bustle I had missed my deliverer; but scarce- 
 ly could think about him, or any thing else, 
 while the enemy were showering lances and 
 shafts as thick as snow upon us. But now, 
 some fears of his extravagance recurred to 
 rne, and I ordered strict search to be made 
 for him. 
 
 The fire had seized on but a wing of the 
 palace, and was speedily extinguished. I was 
 ascending the stair, when a figure bounded 
 full against me from a side door. It was the 
 beggar. His voice, however, was my only 
 means of recognition, for his outward man 
 had undergone a total change. He wore a 
 rich cuirass and helmet, a Greek falchion 
 glittered in his embroidered belt, a tissued 
 mantle hung over his shoulder, and a spear, 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 93 
 
 ponderous, but inlaid and polished with the I 
 nicest art, was brandished in his hand.] 
 “ What,” said he, “is all over! May all the 
 fogs of earth and skies cloud me, but I was j 
 born under the most malignant planet that 
 ever did mischief; I left you only to do some 
 business of my own; I failed there. My 
 next business was to join and help you to 
 give a lesson to those Roman hounds; or, 
 if they were to give the lesson to us, take 
 chance along with you, and exhibit as a sol- 
 dier. I made bold to borrow the governor’s 
 arms, as you see; but I am always unlucky.” 
 “ If it was you who set this roof on fire, 
 your torch was worth an army.” 
 
 “ Aye, I never saw fire fail ; no man is 
 ashamed of running away from a blaze; and 
 I thought that the Romans were tired enough 
 to be glad of the excuse. But I had a point 
 besides to carry. Florus is somewhere un- 
 der these ceilings. I determined to burn him 
 out, and pay home my long arrear, as he 
 attempted to make his escape. But you 
 have just extinguished the cleverest earth- 
 ly contrivance for the discovery of rascally 
 governors ; and I must break an oath I made 
 long ago against his ever dying in his bed.” 
 “Florus here! then we must have him 
 without delay. But, who comes!” 
 
 At the word I seized a slave of the palace, 
 in the attempt to escape. He begged hard 
 for life, and promised to conduct us where 
 the Procurator was concealed. We hurried 
 on through a succession of winding passages ; 
 a strong door stopped us: “There,” said the 
 slave. 
 
 “ By the beard of my fathers, the wolf 
 shall not be long in his den,” cried the son 
 of El Hakim. “Procurator, your last crime- 
 is committed.” 
 
 He threw himself against the door with 
 prodigious force; the bars burst away, andi 
 before us lay the terror of Judea ! 
 
 He was to be a terror no more. A cup, 
 the inseparable amethystine cup, stood on the 
 table beside his couch. He lay writhing 
 with pain. His countenance wore the ghast- 
 liest hue of death. I bade him surrender. 
 He smiled, took the cup in his trembling 
 hand, and eagerly swallowed the remaining 
 drops in its bottom. 
 
 “What! poison!” exclaimed my com- 
 panion. “ Has the villain escaped me ! Here 
 is my planet again ; never was man so un- 
 lucky. But, he is not dead yet.” 
 
 He drew his falchion, and lifted it up with 
 the look of one .about to offer a solemn sacri- 
 fice. I seized his arm. “ He is dying,” said 
 I ; “he is beyond earthly vengeance.” The 
 wretched criminal before us was nearly in- 
 sensible to his brief preservation. The poison, 
 acting upon a frame already broken with pub- 
 lic and private anxieties, was making quick 
 work; and the glazed eye, the fallen coun- 
 
 7 
 
 tenance, and the collapsed limb, showed that 
 his last hour was come. 
 
 “ And this is the thing,” soliloquized the 
 son of El Hakim, “ that men feared ! In this 
 senseless flesh was the power to make the 
 free tremble for their freedom, and the slave 
 curse the hour that he was born. This mass 
 of mortality could stand between me and 
 happiness — could make me a beggar, a wan- 
 derer, miserable, mad !” He caught up the 
 hand that hung nerveless from the couch. 
 “ Accursed hand !” exclaimed he, “ what tor- 
 rents of blood have owed their flowing to 
 thee ! A word written by these fingers cost 
 a thousand lives. And, oh Heaven ! in this 
 cruel grasp was the key to thy dungeon, my 
 Mary ; that dungeon of more than the body, 
 the hideous prison-house that extinguished 
 thy mind !” He let fall the hand, and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 To my utter surprise, the Procurator start- 
 ed upon his feet, and, with the look that had 
 so often made the heart quake, haughtily de- 
 manded who we were, and how we dared to 
 interrupt his privacy. I felt as if a spirit had 
 started up before me from the shroud. But 
 this extraordinary revival was merely the 
 last effort of a fierce mind. He tottered, and 
 was falling, when my companion darted for- 
 ward, grasped him by the bosom with one 
 hand, and waving the falchion above him 
 with the other — “ He hears ! he sees !” ex- 
 claimed he, exultingly. “Who are we! 
 Who am I ! Look upon me, Gessius Florus, 
 before the sight leaves your eyes forever. See 
 Sabat the Ishmaelite — the despised, the in- 
 sulted, the trampled, the undone. But never 
 did you prosper from the hour of my ruin. I 
 was your spy, but it was only to bring you 
 into a snare ; 1 fed your pride, but it was only 
 that it might turn the hearts of all men against 
 you ; I stimulated your avarice, only that 
 wealth might make your nights sleepless, and 
 your days, days of fear; I stirred your wrath 
 into rage ; I set your prudence asleep ; I in- 
 flamed your ambition into frenzy ! This 
 night I led your conquerors upon you. But I 
 had made all sure. The vengeance was at 
 hand. In another week, Gessius Florus, if 
 you had escaped this sword, you would have 
 been seized by order of the Emperor ; stripped 
 of your wealth, your honors, your accursed 
 power, and your wretched life. The com- 
 mand for your blood is this night crossing 
 the Mediterranean!” 
 
 The dying man struggled to get free, 
 wrenched himself by a violent effort from the 
 strong grasp that at once held and sustained 
 him, and fell. He was dead ! 
 
 The son of El Hakim stood gazing on the 
 body in silence; when the glitter of a ring 
 on the hand, as it lay spread on the floor, 
 struck his eye: He seized it with an out- 
 
 cry: the man was wholly changed; hia 
 
94 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 frowning visage flashed with joy. I in vain 
 demanded the cause. He pressed the signet 
 to his lips. “ Farewell, Farewell !” he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 “Will you not wait for your share of the 
 spoil, your ample and deserved reward 7” 
 
 “Farewell! 1 ’ he repeated, and burst from 
 the chamber. 
 
 This memorable night made changes in 
 more than the Ishmaeiite. Constantius was, 
 at last, in his element. I had hitherto seen 
 him disguised by circumstances: the fugitive 
 from his country, the lover under the embar- 
 rassments of forbidden passion, the ill-starred 
 soldier. His native vigor of soul was under 
 a perpetual cloud. But now the cloud broke 
 away ; and victory, the consciousness of hav- 
 ing nobly retrieved his check, and the still 
 prouder consciousness of the career that this 
 triumph laid open before him, brought the 
 character of his mind into full light, fie was 
 now the lofty enthusiast that nature made 
 him. He breathed generous ambition : his 
 step was the step of command ; and when he 
 rushed to my embrace with almost the eager- 
 ness of a boy, and a voice stifled with emo- 
 tion, I saw in him the romance, the soaring 
 spirit, and the passionate love of glory, that 
 moulded the Greek hero. 
 
 He had done his duty nobly. All were in 
 admiration of his assault. The Romans had 
 been fully prepared. He scaled the rampart, 
 and scaled it almost singly in their teeth. 
 His men followed gallantly. He pressed on : 
 the second rampart was stormed. I found 
 him at the foot of the third, checked by its 
 impregnable mass alone, but defying the 
 whole garrison to drive him back. When I 
 afterwards saw the strength of those bul- 
 warks, I felt that, with such a leader, at the 
 head of troops animated by his own spirit, 
 there was nothing extravagant in the boldest 
 hopes of war. 
 
 This was an eventful night; and there 
 was still much to be done before we slept. I 
 threw over my tattered garments one of the 
 many mantles that lay loose round the cham- 
 ber, flung another on the body of the Procura- 
 tor, and sallied forth to give the final orders 
 of the night. "The prisoners had been already 
 secured, and I found the great hall of the 
 palace crowded with their officers. The in- 
 terview was whimsical : for a while I escaped 
 recognition ; the gashed faces and torn rai- 
 ments of my hunters, which bore the marks 
 of our dreary march through the subterranean : 
 the rough heads and hands stained with the 
 fight, a startling contrast to the perfect equip- 
 ment of the Roman under all circumstances, 
 
 E ve them the look of the wildest of the rob- 
 r tribes. My disguise was in the contrary 
 way, yet complete. The cloak was acci- 
 dentally one of the most showy in the Pro- 
 curator’s wardrobe. I found myself enveloped 
 
 in furs and tissues; and their Arab acquaint- 
 ance was forgotten, in what seemed to them 
 the legitimate monarch of the mountains. 
 
 I was received by the circle of officers 
 with the deference which, let the captor be 
 who he may, marks the distinction between 
 him and his prisoner; yet with the decent 
 dignity of the brave. There was but one ex- 
 ception, which I might have guessed — the 
 tribune. He was all humiliation, stooped to 
 make some abject request about his baubles, 
 and was probably on the point of apologizing 
 for his ever having taken up the trade of 
 i war: when I turned on my heel, and shook 
 I hands with my old friend the captain. He 
 looked in evident perplexity. At last, through 
 even the grim evidences of the night’s work 
 on my countenance, and the problem of my 
 pompous mantle, his brightening eye began 
 to recognize me ; and he burst out with, 
 i “ The Arab, by Jupiter !” But when I asked 
 him, “ what had become of his baggage,” 
 
 1 touched the tender string; and, with a 
 countenance as cast down as if he had sus- 
 tained an irreparable calamity, he told me 
 that his whole travelling cellar was in the 
 hands of my men ; and it was his full belief, 
 that he was at that moment not worth a flask 
 in the wide world. 
 
 The tribune turned away in conscious dis- 
 grace; and I sent him to a dungeon, to medi- 
 tate till morn on the awkwardness of inso- 
 lence to strangers. With the others I sat 
 down to such entertainments as a sacked for- 
 tress could supply; but which hunger, thirst, 
 and fatigue, rendered worth all the banquets 
 of the idle. The old captain cheered his 
 j soul, and grew rhetorical. “ Wine,” said he, 
 flask in hand, “ does wonders. It is the true 
 leveller, for it leaves no troublesome inequali- 
 ty of conditions. It is the true sponge, that 
 pays all debts at sight, for it makes us forget 
 the existence of a creditor. It is the true 
 friend, that sticks by a man to the last drop; 
 the faithful mistress, that jilts no man; and 
 ^he most charming of wives, whose tongue 
 no husband hears, whose company is equally 
 delightful at all hours, and who is as be- 
 witching this day as she was this day fifty 
 years ago.” 
 
 The panegyric was popular. The gover- 
 nor’s cellar flowed. The Italian connoisseur- 
 ship in vintages was displayed in the most 
 profound style ; and long before we parted, 
 the great “sponge” which wipes away debt, 
 had wiped away every recollection of defeat. 
 The idea of their being prisoners, never 
 clouded a sunbeam that came from the bottle. 
 The letters scattered from the tribune’s sad- 
 dle were an unfailing topic. The legion 
 picked them up on the march ; they had the 
 piquancy of scandal of their particular 
 friends; and the addition made to their in- 
 , telligence by my wild associate, was unani- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 95 
 
 mously declared the most dexterous piece of 
 frolic, the most pleasant venom, and the most 
 venomous pleasantry, that ever emanated 
 from the wit of man. 
 
 But my task was not yet done. I left those 
 gay soldiers to their wine ; and with Con- 
 stantius, and some torchbearers, hastened to 
 the Armory of Herod — the forbidden ground; 
 the treasure-house of war ; and if old rumor 
 were to be believed,’ the place of many a 
 mysterious celebration, unlawful to be seen 
 by human eyes. 
 
 The building was in the centre of the cita- 
 del, and was "of the stateliest architecture. 
 The massive doors were thrown open. At 
 the first step, I sprang from the blaze of steel 
 and gold that shot back against the torches. 
 The walls of this gigantic hall were covered 
 with arms and armor of every nation — cuir- 
 asses, Persian, Roman, and Greek ; the plate- 
 mail of the Gaul; the Indian chain-armor; — 
 innumerable head-pieces, from the steel cap 
 of the Scythian, to the plumed and triple- 
 crested helmet of the Greek, the richest com- 
 bination of strength and beauty ever borne 
 by soldiership — shields of every shape and 
 sculpture; the Greek orb; the Persian 
 rhomb ; the Cimmerian crescent ; — all arms, 
 the ponderous spear of the phalanx ; the 
 Thracian pike; the German war-hatchet; 
 the Italian javelin; — the bow, from the Nu- 
 bian, twice the height of man, the small half 
 circle of the Assyrian cavalry ; — swords, the 
 broad-bladed and fearful falchion of the Ro- 
 man, every thrust of which let out a life ; the 
 huge two-handed sword of the Baltic tribes ; 
 the Syrian scimetar; the Persian acinaces; 
 the deep-hilted knife of the Indian islander ; 
 the Arab poniard ; the serrated blade of the 
 African ; all were there, in their richest 
 models — the collection of Herod’s life. War 
 had raised him to rank, which allowed the 
 indulgence of his most lavish tastes of good 
 and ill ; the sword was his true sceptre ; and 
 never king bore the sign of his sovereignty 
 more royally emblazoned. 
 
 After long admiration of this display of the 
 wealth dearest to the soldier, I was retiring; 
 when a slave approached, and prostrating 
 himself, told me that a hall remained, still 
 more singular, “ the hall in which the Great 
 Herod received his death-warning.” I gazed 
 round the armory ; there was no door but the 
 one by which we entered . 
 
 “ Not here,” said the Ethiopian ; “ yet it 
 is beside us. The foot of a Roman has never 
 entered it. The secret remained with me 
 alone. Does my lord command that it shall 
 be revealed 1” 
 
 The order was given. The slave took 
 down one of the coats of mail, pushed back a 
 valve, and we entered a winding stair which 
 led us downwards for some minutes. The 
 narrow passage and heavy air reminded me 
 
 of the subterranean. Our torches burned 
 dimly, and the visages of my attendants show- 
 ed how little their gallantry was to be relied 
 on ; if we were to be brought in contact with 
 magicians and ghosts. 
 
 “ Here,” said the Ethiopian, “ it was the 
 custom of the great king, in his declining 
 years, when his heart was broken by the loss 
 of the most beloved of his wives, and mad- 
 dened by the conspiracies of the princes, his 
 sons, to come and consult others than the 
 God of Jerusalem. Here the Chaldee men 
 of wisdom came to raise the spirits of the 
 departed, and show the fates of his king- 
 dom. We are now in the bowels of the 
 ; mountain.” 
 
 He loosed a chain, which disappeared into 
 the ground with a hollow noise. A huge 
 mass of rock slowly rolled back, and showed 
 a depth of darkness through which our twink- 
 ling torches scarcely made way. 
 
 “ Stop,” said the slave, “ I should have 
 first lighted the shrine.” He left us, and we 
 shortly saw a blaze of many colors on a tri- 
 pod in the centre. As the blaze strengthened, 
 a scene of wonder awoke before the eye. A 
 host of armed men grew upon the darkness. 
 .The immense vault was peopled with groups 
 of warriors, all the great military leaders of 
 the world in their native arms, and surround- 
 ed by a cluster of their captains ; the disturb- 
 ers of the earth, from Sesostris down to Cee- 
 sar and Anthony, brandishing the lance, or 
 reining the charger, each in his known atti- 
 tude of command. There rushed Cyrus in 
 the scythed chariot, surrounded by his horse- 
 men, barbed from head to heel. There 
 Alexander, with the banner of Macedon wav- 
 ing above his head, and armed as when ha 
 leaped into the Granicus. There Hannibal, 
 upon the elephant that he rode at Canee. 
 There Csesar, with the head of Pompey at his 
 feet. Those, and a long succession of the 
 masters of victory, each in the moment of 
 supreme fortune, made the vault a represen- 
 tative palace of human glory. But the view 
 from the entrance told but half the tale. It 
 was when I advanced and lifted the torch to 
 the countenance of the first group, that the 
 moral was visible. All the visages were 
 those of skeletons. The costly armor was 
 upon bones. The spears and sceptres were 
 brandished by the thin fingers of the grave. 
 The vault was the representative sepulchre 
 of human vanity. 
 
 This was one of the fantastic fits of a mind 
 which felt too late the emptiness of earthly 
 honors. Half pagan, the powerful intellect 
 of the man gave way to the sullen super- 
 stitions of the murderer. Egypt was still the 
 mystic tyrant of Palestine ; and Herod in his 
 despair, sank into the slave of a credulity a 
 once weak and terrible. 
 
 In the last hours of a long and deeply 
 
96 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 varied life, exhausted more by misery of soul I 
 than disease ; when medicine was hopeless, | 
 and he had returned from trying the famous 
 spring of Callirhoe in vain, the king ordered 
 himself to be brought into this vault, and left 
 alone. He remained in it for some hours. 
 The attendants were at length roused by 
 hideous wailings; they broke open the en- 
 trance, and found him in a paroxysm of ter- 
 ror. The vault was filled with the strong 
 odors of some magical preparations still burn- 
 ing on the tripod. The sound of departing: 
 feet was heard, but Herod sat alone. In ac- ■ 
 cents of the wildest woe, he declared that he 
 had seen the statues filled with sudden life, 
 and charging him with the death of his wife 
 and children. 
 
 He left Masada instantly, pronouncing a 
 curse upon the hour in which he first listened 
 to the arts of Egypt. He was carried to Jeri- 
 cho, and there laid on a bed from which he 
 never rose. Alternate bursts of blasphemy 
 and remorse made his parting moments 
 frightful. But tyranny was in his last 
 thought; and he died holding in his hand the 
 order for the massacre of every leading man 
 in J udea. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The first decided blow of the war was 
 given. I had incurred the full wrath of 
 Rome ; the trench between me and forgive- 
 ness was impassable ; and I felt a stern de- 
 light in the conviction that the hope of truce 
 or pardon was at an end ; the seizure of Ma- 
 sada was a defiance of the whole power of 
 the empire. 
 
 But it had the higher importance of a tri- 
 umph at the beginning of a war, the moment 
 when even the courageous are perplexed by 
 doubt, and the timid watch their opportunity 
 to raise the cry of ill fortune. It showed the 
 facility of conquest, where men are deter- 
 mined to run the full risk of good or evil; it 
 Bhook the military credit of the enemy, by 
 the proof that they could be over-matched in 
 activity, spirit, and conduct. The capture 
 of a Roman fortress by assault was a thing 
 almost unheard of. But the consummate 
 value of the enterprise was in its declaration 
 to those who would fight; that they had 
 leaders able and willing to take the last 
 chance with them for the freedom of their 
 country. 
 
 When day broke, and the strength of this 
 celebrated fortress was fairly visible, I could 
 scarcely believe that our success was alto- 
 gether the work of man. The genius of an- 
 cient fortification produced nothing more re- 
 markable than Masada. It stood on the sum- 
 mit of a height, so steep that the sun never 
 reached the bottom of the surrounding defiles. 
 
 Its outer wall was a mile round, with thirty- 
 eight towers, each eighty feet high. Im- 
 mense marble cisterns; granaries, like pal- 
 aces, capable of holding provisions for years; 
 exhaustless arms and military engines, in 
 buildings of the finest Greek art; and de- 
 fences of the most costly skill, at every com- 
 manding point of the interior ; showed the 
 kingly magnificence and warlike care of the 
 most brilliant, daring, and successful monarch 
 of Judea, since Solomon. 
 
 By the first sun-beam, a new wonder 
 struck the multitude, whom the tumult of 
 the night had gathered on the neighboring 
 hills. I ordered the great standard of Naph- 
 tali to be hoisted on the citadel. It was 
 raised in the midst of shouts and hymns; and 
 the huge scarlet fold spread out, majestically 
 displaying the emblem of our tribe, the Sil- 
 ver Stag, before the morn. Shouts echoed 
 and re-echoed round the horizon. The hill 
 tops, covered as far as the eye could reach, 
 did homage to the banner of Jewish deliver- 
 ance; and, inspired by the sight, every man 
 of their thousands took sword and spear, and 
 made ready for battle. 
 
 My first care was to relieve the minds of 
 my family; and Constantius, with triumph 
 in every feature, and love and honor glowing 
 in his heart, was made the bearer of the glad 
 tidings. 
 
 The duties of command devolved rapidly 
 on me. An army to be raised — a plan of 
 operations to be determined on — the chief- 
 tains of the country to be combined — and the 
 profligate feuds of Jerusalem to be extin- 
 guished; were difficulties, that lay before 
 my first step. It is in preliminaries like 
 ! those, that the burning spirit of man, full of 
 the manliest resolutions, and caring no more 
 for personal safety than he cares for the weed 
 under his feet, is fated to feel the true trou- 
 bles of high enterprise. 
 
 I soon experienced the wretchedness of 
 having to contend with the indolent, the art- 
 ful and the base. My mind, eager to follow 
 up the first success, was entangled in tedious 
 and intricate negotiation, with men whom 
 no sense of right or wrong could stimulate 
 to integrity. Rival interests to be conciliated 
 — gross corruptions to be crushed — paltry 
 passions to be stigmatized — family hatreds to 
 be reconciled — childish antipathies — grasping 
 avarice — giddy ambition — savage cruelty, to 
 be rectified, propitiated, or punished ; were 
 among my tasks, before I could plant a foot 
 in the field. If those are the fruits that grow 
 round even the righteous cause, what must 
 be the rank crop of conspiracy ! 
 
 But, one point I speedily settled. The 
 first assemblage of the chieftains satisfied 
 me of the absurdity of councils of war. Every 
 man had his plan ; and every plan contem- 
 I plated some personal object. I saw that to 
 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 97 
 
 discuss them would be useless and endless. 
 I had already begun to learn the diplomatic 
 art of taking my own way, with the most un- 
 ruffled aspect. I begged of the proposers to 
 reduce their views to writing; received their 
 papers with perfect civility ; took them to 
 my cabinet, and gave their brilliancy to add 
 to the blaze of my fire. High station is soon 
 compelled to dissemble. A month before, I 
 should have spoken out my mind, and treated 
 the plans and the proposers alike with scorn. 
 But a month before I was neither general 
 nor statesman. Freed from the encumbrance 
 of many counsellors, I decided on a rapid 
 march to Jerusalem ; — there was power and 
 glory in the word : by this measure I should 
 be master of all that final victory could give, 
 the popular mind, the national resources, and 
 the highest prize of the most successful war. 
 
 Those thoughts banished rest from my pil- 
 low. I passed day and night in a perpetual, 
 feverish, exaltation of mind ; yet if I were to 
 compute my few periods of happiness, among 
 them would be the week when I could nei- 
 ther eat, drink, nor sleep, from the mere over- 
 flowing of my warlike reveries at Masada. 
 
 We may well forgive the splenetic apathy 
 and sullen scorn of life, that beset the holder 
 of power, when time or chance leaves his 
 grasp empty. The mighty monarch; the 
 general, on whose sword hung the balance 
 of empires; the statesman, on whose counsel 
 rose or sank the welfare of millions ; fallen 
 into inaction, sunk into the feeble and unex- 
 citing employments of common life, their 
 genius and their fame a burden and a re- 
 proach, the source of a restless and indignant 
 contrast between what they were and what 
 they are; how feeble an emblem of such 
 minds is the lion fanged, or the eagle chain- 
 ed to a log ! We may pass by even the fool- 
 eries which so often make the world stare at 
 the latter years of famous men. When they 
 can no longer soar to their natural height, all 
 beneath, is equal to them ; our petty wisdom 
 is not worth their trouble. They scorn the 
 little opinions of common place mankind, and 
 follow their own tastes — contemptuously 
 trifle and proudly play the fool. 
 
 Before the week was out I was at the 
 head of a hundred thousand men ; I was the 
 champion of a great country; the leader of 
 the most formidable insurrection that ever 
 contended with Rome in the East, the gene- 
 ral of an army whose fidelity and spirit were 
 not to be surpassed on earth. Could ambition 
 ask more ! There was even more, though 
 too solemn to be asked by human ambition. 
 My nation was sacred; a cause above human 
 nature was to be fought for ; in that cause 1 
 might, at once, redeem my own name from 
 obscurity, and be the instrument of exalting 
 the name, authority, and religion of a people, 
 the regal people of the Sovereign of all ! 
 
 I Constantius returned. It was in vain that 
 ;I had directed my family to take refuge in 
 the mountain country of Naphtali. My au- 
 thority was for once disputed at home. Strong 
 affection mastered fear, and, swift as love 
 could speed, I saw them entering the gates 
 of Masada. 
 
 Such meetings can come but once in a 
 life. I was surrounded by innocent fondness, 
 beauty most admirable, and faith that no mis- 
 fortune could shake ; and I was surrounded 
 by them in an hour when prosperity seemed 
 laboring to lavish on me all the wishes of 
 man. I felt too, by the glance with which 
 Miriam looked upon her “ hero,” that I had 
 earned a higher title to the world’s respect. 
 Had she found me in chains, she would have 
 shared them without a murmur. But her 
 lofty heart rejoiced to find her husband thus 
 vindicating his claims to the homage of man- 
 kind. 
 
 t Yet to those matchless enjoyments I gave 
 up but one day. By the next dawn the trum- 
 pet sounded for the march. I knew the im- 
 ; portance of following up the first blow in all 
 wars ; its indispensable importance in a war 
 of insurrection. To meet the disciplined 
 troops of Rome in pitched battles would be 
 madness. The true manoeuvre was, to dis- 
 tract their attention by variety of onset, cut 
 off their communications, keep their camps 
 in perpetual alarm, and make our activity, 
 numbers, and knowledge of the country, the 
 substitutes for equipment, experience and the 
 science of the soldier. 
 
 In summoning those brave men, I adhdred 
 to the regulations of the law of our prophet ; 
 a law whose humanity and regard for natural 
 feelings, distinguished it in the most striking 
 manner from the stern violence of the pagan 
 levy. No man was required to take up arms, 
 who had built a house and had not dedicated 
 it ; no man who had planted a vineyard or 
 olive ground, and had not yet reaped the 
 produce ; no man who had betrothed a 
 wife, and had not yet taken her home; 
 and no man during the first year of his 
 marriage. 
 
 My prisoners were mv last embarrassment. 
 To leave them to the chance of popular mercy, 
 or to leave them immured in the fortress, 
 j would be cruelty. To let them loose, would 
 be, of course, to give so many soldiers to the 
 | enemy. I adopted the simpler expedient of 
 marching them to Berytus, seizing a detach- 
 'ment of the Roman provision ships, and em- 
 barking the whole for Italy, 
 
 To ray old friend, the captain, whose cheer- 
 fulness could be abated only by a failure of 
 the vintage, I offered a tranquil settlement 
 among our hills. The etiquette of soldiership 
 was formidably tasked by my offer, for the 
 veteran was thoroughly weary of his thank- 
 [ less service. He hesitated, swore that I de- 
 
98 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 served to be a Roman, and even a captain of 
 horse ; but finished by saying that, bad a 
 trade as the army was, he was too old to 
 learn a better. I gave him and some others 
 their unconditional liberty; and he parted 
 from the Jewish rebel with more obvious re- 
 gret, than perhaps he ever dreamed himself 
 capable of feeling for any thing but his horse 
 and his botttle. 
 
 Eleazar took the charge of my family and 
 the command of Masada. The sun burst out 
 with cheerful omen on the troops, as I wound 
 down the steep road, named the Serpent, 
 from its extreme obliquity. The sight before 
 me was of a nature to exhilarate the heaviest 
 heart ; an immense host making the air ring 
 with acclamations at the coming of their 
 chieftain. The mental perspective of public 
 honors and national service, was still more 
 exalting. Yet I felt a boding depression, as 
 if within those walls had begun and ended 
 my prosperity. 
 
 On the first ridge which crossed our 
 march, I instinctively stopped to give a fare- 
 well look. The breeze had sunk,**and the 
 scarlet banner shook out its folds to the sun 
 no more ; a cloud hung on the mountain peak, 
 and covered the fortress with gloom. I turn- 
 ed away. The omen was true ! 
 
 But sickly thoughts were forgotten, when 
 we were once fairly on the march. Who 
 that has ever moved with an army, has not 
 known its ready cure for heaviness of heart? 
 The sound of the moving multitude, their 
 broad mirth, the mere trampling of their feet, 
 the picturesque lights that fall upon the col- 
 umns as they pass over the inequalities of 
 the ground, keep the eye and the mind singu- 
 larly alive. 
 
 Our men felt the whole delight of the 
 scene; and gambolled like deer, or horses let 
 loose into pasture. But, to the military habits 
 of Constantius, this rude vigor was the high- 
 est vexation. He galloped from flank to flank 
 with hopeless diligence, found that his ar- 
 rangement only perplexed our bold peasantry 
 the more, and at length fairly relinquished 
 the idea of gaining any degree of credit by 
 the brilliancy of their discipline. But t, no 
 more a tactician than themselves, was content 
 with seeing in them the material of the true 
 soldier; the spear was carried rudely, but 
 the hand that carried it was strong ; the 
 march was irregular, but the step was firm ; 
 if there was song, and mirth, and clamor, 
 they were the cheerful voices of the brave ; 
 and I could read in the countenances of ranks, 
 that no skill could keep in order, the hardi- 
 hood and generous devotedness that in wars 
 like ours, have so often baffled the proud, and 
 left of the mighty but clay. 
 
 During the day, we saw no enemy ; and 
 drove along with the unembarrassed step of 
 men going up to one of the festivals. The 
 
 march was hot, the zeal of our young soldiers 
 made it rapid, and we continued it long after 
 their usual hour of repose. But then sleep 
 took its thorough revenge. It was fortunate 
 for our fame that the enemy were not nigh ; 
 for sleep fastened irresistibly and at once 
 upon the whole multitude. Sentinels were 
 planted in vain ; the spears fell from their 
 hands, and the watchers were tranquilly laid 
 side by side with the slumbering. Outposts 
 and the usual precautionary arrangements 
 were equally useless. Sleep was our master. 
 Constantius exerted his vigilance with fruit- 
 less activity ; and before an hour passed, he 
 and I were probably the sole sentinels of the 
 grand army of Judea. 
 
 “ What can be done with such sluggards?” 
 said he, indignantly pointing to the heaps 
 that, wrapped in their cloaks, covered the 
 field far round, and in the moonlight looked 
 more like surges tipped with foam than hu- 
 man beings. 
 
 “ What can be done ? — wonders.” 
 
 “ Will they ever be able to manoeuvre in 
 the face of the legions V 
 
 “ Never.” 
 
 “ Will they ever be able to move like 
 regular troops?” 
 
 “ Never.” 
 
 “ Will they ever be able to keep their eyes 
 open after sunset ?” 
 
 “ Never, after such a march as we have 
 given them to-day.” 
 
 “ What then, under heaven, will they be 
 good for ?” 
 
 “ To beat the Romans out of Palestine l” 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Before the sun was up, my peasants were 
 on the march again. From the annual jour- 
 neys of the tribes to the great city, no coun- 
 try was ever known so well to its whole popu- 
 lation as Palestine. Every hill, forest, and 
 mountain stream, was now saluted with the 
 shout of old recognition. Discipline was for- 
 gotten, as we approached those spots of mem- 
 ory ; and the troops rambled loosely over the 
 ground on which in gentler times they had 
 rested in the midst of their caravans. Con- 
 stantius had many an irritation to encounter; 
 but I combated his wrath, and pledged my- 
 self, that when the occasion arrived, my 
 countrymen would show the native vigor of 
 the soil. 
 
 “ Let those brave peasants take their way,” 
 said I. “ If they will not make an army, let 
 them make a mob; let them come into the 
 field with the bold propensities and generous 
 passions of their nature, unchecked by the 
 trammels of regular warfare : let them feel 
 themselves men and not machines, and I 
 pledge myself for their victory.” 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 99 
 
 “They will soon have an opportunity; look 
 yonde/.” He pointed to a low range of misty 
 hills some miles onward. 
 
 “ Are we to fight the clouds ! for I can see 
 nothing else.” 
 
 “Our troops, I think, would be exactly the 
 proper antagonists. But there is one cloud 
 upon those hills, that something more than 
 the wind must drive away.” 
 
 The sun threw a passing gleam upon the 
 heights, and it was returned by the sparkling 
 of spears. The enemy was before us. Con- 
 stantius galloped with some of our hunters to 
 the front to observe their position. The trum- 
 pets sounded, and my countrymen justified 
 all that I had said, by the enthusiasm that 
 lighted up every countenance at the hope of 
 coming in contact with the oppressor. We 
 advanced; shouts rang from tribe to tribe; 
 we quickened our pace; at length the whole 
 multitude ran. At the foot of the height 
 every man pushed forward without waiting 
 for his fellow; it was a complete confusion. 
 The chief force against us was cavalry, and 
 I saw them preparing to charge. We must 
 suffer prodigiously, let the day end how it 
 would. The whole campaign might hang on 
 the first impulse. 1 stood in agony. I saw 
 the squadron level their lances. I saw the 
 centurions dash out in front. All was ready 
 for the fatal charge. To my astonishment, 
 the whole of the cavalry wheeled round and 
 disappeared. 
 
 The panic was like miracle — equally rapid 
 and unaccountable. 1 rode to the top of the 
 hill, and discovered the secret. Constantius, 
 observing the enemy’s attention taken up 
 with my advance, had made his way round 
 the heights. His trumpet gave the first 
 notice of the manoeuvre. Their rear was 
 threatened, and the cavalry fled, leaving a 
 cohort in our hands. 
 
 The first success in war is as full of con- 
 sequences as the first repulse. The flight 
 and capture of any fragment of the legions, 
 was magnified into a sign of perpetual tri- 
 umph. But never was successful soldier 
 honored with a more clamorous triumph 
 than Constantius. Nature speaks out among 
 her untutored sons. Envy has nothing to do 
 in such a field as ours. He was applauded 
 to the skies. 
 
 “Well,” said T, as T pressed the gallant 
 hand that had planted the first laurel on 
 our brows; “you see that, if ploughmen and 
 shepherds make rude soldiers, they make 
 capital judges of soldiership. You might 
 have conquered a kingdom without receiving 
 half this panegyric in Rome.” 
 
 “ The service is but begun, and we shall 
 have another lesson to get or give before to- 
 morrow. Those fellows are grateful, I 
 allow,” said he, with a smile, “but you must 
 allow that, for what has been done, we have 
 
 J to thank the discipline that brought us in the 
 Roman rear.” 
 
 “ Yes, and the discipline that made them 
 so much alarmed about their rear as to run 
 away, when they might have charged and 
 beaten us.” 
 
 This little affair put us all in spirits, and 
 the songs and cheerful clamors burst out 
 with renewed animation. But the symp- 
 toms of the enemy soon became thicker. 
 We found the ruined cottage, the torn-up 
 garden, the burnt orchard; those habitual 
 evidences of the camp. As we advanced, 
 the tracks of wagons and of the huge wheels 
 of the military engines were fresh in the 
 ' grass ; and from time to time some skeleton 
 of a beast of burden, or some half-covered 
 wreck of man, showed that desolation had 
 walked there; the cavalry soon showed 
 themselves on the heights in larger bodies; 
 but all was forgotten in the sight that at 
 length rose upon the horizon ; we beheld, 
 bathed in the richest glow of a summer’s 
 eve, the summits of the mountains round 
 Jerusalem, and glorious above them, like 
 another sun, the golden beauty of the Tem- 
 ple of temples. 
 
 What Jew ever saw that sight but with 
 homage of heart! Fine fancies may de- 
 claim of the rapture of returning to one’s 
 country after long years. Rapture ! to find 
 ourselves in a land of strangers, ourselves 
 forgotten, our early scenes so changed, that 
 we can scarcely retrace them, filled up with 
 new faces, or with the old so worn by time 
 and care that we read in them nothing but 
 the emptiness of human hope ; the whole 
 ! world new, frivolous, and contemptuous of 
 our feelings. Where is the mother, the sis- 
 ter, the women of our heart! We find 
 their only memorials among the dead, and 
 bitterly feel that our true country is the 
 tomb. 
 
 But the return to Zion was not of the 
 things of this world. The Jew saw before 
 him the city of prophecy and power. Mor- 
 tal thoughts, individual sorrows, the melan- 
 choly experiences of human life, had no 
 place among the mighty hopes that gathered 
 over it, like angels wings. Restoration, 
 boundless empire, imperishable glory, were 
 the writing upon its bulwarks. It stood before 
 him the Universal City, whose gates were to 
 be open for the reverence of all time ; the 
 symbol to the earth of the returning presence 
 of the Great King; the promise to the Jew 
 of an empire, triumphant over the casualties 
 of nations, the crimes of man, and the all- 
 grasping avarice of the grave. 
 
 The multitude prostrated themselves; then 
 rising, broke forth into the glorious hymn 
 sung by the tribes on their journeys to the 
 Temple. 
 
 “ Great is the Lord, and greatly to be prais- 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 100 
 
 ed in the city of our God, the mountain of his 
 holiness. 
 
 “Beautiful, the joy of the earth, is Mount 
 Zion, the city of the Great King- ! 
 
 “ God is known in her palaces for a refuge. 
 
 “ We have thought of thy loving kindness, 
 
 0 God, in the midst of thy temple. 
 
 “ Walk about Zion ; tell the towers there- 
 of. Mark ye her bulwarks ; consider her 
 palaces. For her God is our God, forever and 
 ever ; he will be our guide in death ; his praise 
 is to the ends of the earth. Glory to the King 
 of Zion.” 
 
 The harmony of the adoring myriads rose 
 sweet and solemn upon the air ; the sky was 
 a canopy of sapphire; the breeze rich with 
 the evening flowers ; Jerusalem before me ! 
 
 1 felt as if the covering of my mortal nature 
 were about to be cast away, and my spirit to 
 go forth, divested or its grosser incumbrances, 
 on a bright and boundless career of fortune. 
 
 But recollections, never to be subdued, sad- 
 dened my memory of the Temple ; and when 
 the first influence of the worship passed, I 
 turned from the sight of what was to me the 
 eternal monument of the heaviest crime and 
 calamity of man. I gave one parting glance I 
 as day died upon the spires. To my surprise, 1 
 they were darkened by more than twilight; 
 
 I glanced again, smoke rolled cloud on cloud 
 over Mount Moriah ; flame and the distant 
 roar of battle started us — “ had the enemy 
 anticipated our march, and was Jerusalem 
 about to be stormed before our eyes 1” 
 
 We were not long left to conjecture. 
 Crowds of frightened women and children 
 were seen flying across the country. The 
 roar swelled again ; we answered it by cries 
 of indignation, and rushed onward. Unable 
 to ascertain the point of attack, I halted the 
 multitude at the entrance of one of the roads 
 ascending to the great gate of the upper city, 
 and galloped forward with a few of my people. 
 
 A horseman rushed from the gate with a 
 'heedless rapidity which must have flung him 
 into the midst of us, or sent him over the pre- 
 cipice. His voice alone enabled me to recog- 
 nize in this furious rider my kinsman Jubal. 
 But never had a few months so altered a hu- 
 man being. Instead of the bold and martial 
 figure of the chieftain, I saw an emaciated 
 and exhausted man, apparently in the last 
 stage of life and sorrow : the florid cheek was 
 of the color of clay ; the flashing glance was 
 sunken ; the loud and cheerful voice was se- 
 pulchral. I welcomed him with the natural 
 regard of our relationship; but his perturba- 
 tion was fearful : he trembled, grey fiery red, 
 and could return my greeting only with a 
 feeble tongue and wild eye. 
 
 But this was no time for private feelings. 
 
 I inquired the state of things in Jerusalem. 
 Here his embarrassment was thrown aside, 
 and the natural energy of the man found room. 
 
 “ Jerusalem has three curses at this hour,’ 
 said he, fiercely, “ the priests, the people, and 
 the Romans ; and the last is the lightest of 
 the three. The priests, bloated with indul- 
 gence, and mad with the love of the world ; 
 the people, pampered with faction, and mad 
 I with bigotry; and the Romans availing them- 
 selves of the madness of each to crush all.” 
 
 “ But has the assault been actually made T 
 or is there force enough within to repel it 1” 
 interrupted I. 
 
 “ The assault has been made, and the ene- 
 my have driven every thing before them, so 
 far as has been their pleasure. Why they 
 have not pushed on is inconceivable, for our 
 regular troops are good for nothing. I have 
 been sent out to raise the villages; but my 
 labor will be useless, for, see, the eagles are 
 already on the wall.” 
 
 I looked ; on the northern quarter of the 
 battlements I saw, through smoke and flame, 
 the accursed standard. Below, rose immense 
 bursts of conflagration ; the whole of the New 
 City, the Bezetha, was on fire. 
 
 My plan was instantly formed.. I divided 
 my force into two bodies; gave one to Con- 
 stantius, with orders to enter the city, and 
 beat the Romans from the walls; and with 
 the other, threaded the ravines toward their 
 position on the hills. I had to make a long 
 circuit. The Roman camp was pitched on 
 the ridge of Mount Scopas, seven furlongs 
 from the city. Guided by Jubal, I gained its 
 rear. My troops, stimulated by the sight" of 
 the fugitive people, required all my efforts to 
 keep them from rushing on the detachments 
 that we saw successively hurrying to reinforce 
 the assault. 
 
 Night fell ; but the signal for my attack, a 
 fixed number of torches on the tower of the 
 Temple, did not appear. The troops, ambush- 
 ed in the olive-groves skirting the ridge, had 
 hitherto escaped discovery. At length they 
 grew furious, and bore me along with them. 
 As we burst up the rugged sides of the hill, 
 like a huge surge before the tempest, I cast 
 a despairing glance towards the city : the 
 torches at that moment rose. Hope lived 
 again. I pointed them out to the troops: the 
 sight added wings to their speed ; and, before 
 the enemy could recover from their astonish- 
 ment, we were in the centre of the camp. 
 
 Nothing could be more complete than our 
 success. The legionaries, sure of the morn- 
 ing’s march into Jerusalem, and the plunder 
 of the Temple, were caught leaning in crowds 
 over the ramparts, unarmed, and making ab- 
 solute holiday. Caius Cestius, their insolent 
 general, was carousing in his tent after the 
 fatigues of the evening. The tribune- follow- 
 ed his example; the soldiery saw nothing to 
 require their superior abstemiousness, and the 
 wine was flowing freely in healths to the next 
 day’s rapine, when our roar opened their eyes. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 101 
 
 To resist was out of the question. Fifty thou- 
 sand spearmen, as daring- as ever lifted wea- 
 pon, and inflamed with the feelings of their 
 harrassed country, were in the midst, and they 1 
 ran in all directions. I pressed on to the gene- j 
 ral’s tent ; but the prize had escaped ; he was 
 gone, on the first alarm. My followers indig- 
 nantly set it on fire : the blaze spread, and 
 the flame of the Roman camp rolled up, like 
 the flame of a sacrifice to the god of battles. 
 
 The seizure of the position was the ruin of 
 the detachments abandoned between the hill 
 and the city. At the sight of the flames the 
 gates were flung open ; and Constantius drove 
 the assailants from point to point, until our 
 shouts told him that we were marching upon 
 their rear. The shock then was final. The 
 cohorts, dispirited and surprised, broke like 
 water; and scarcely a man of them lived to 
 boast of having insulted the walls of Jerusalem. 
 
 Day arose; and the Temple met the rising 
 beam, unstained by the smoke of an enemy’s 
 fire. The wreck of the legions lay upon the 
 declivities, like the fragments of a fleet upon 
 the shore. But this sight, painful even to an 
 enemy, was soon forgotten in the concourse 
 of the rescued citizens, the exultation of the 
 troops, and the still more seducing vanities 
 that filled the heart of their chieftain. 
 
 Towards noon a long train of the principal 
 people, headed by the priests and elders, was 
 seen issuing from the gates to congratulate 
 me. Music and triumphant shouts announced 
 their approach through the valley. My heart 
 bounded with the feelings of a conqueror. The 
 whole long vista of national honors, the popu- 
 lar praise, personal dignity, the power of 
 trampling upon the malignant, the clearance of 
 my character, the right to take the future lead 
 on all occasions of public service and princely 
 renown, opened before my dazzled eye. 
 
 I was standing alone upon the brow of the 
 promontory. As far as the eye could reach all 
 was in motion, and all was directed to me : 
 the homage of soldiery, priests, and people, 
 centred in my single being. I involuntarily 
 uttered aloud — “ At last, I shall enter Jeru- 
 salem in triumph.” I heard a voice at my 
 side — “ Never shall you enter Jerusalem, but 
 in sorrow !” 
 
 An indescribable pang accompanied the 
 words. There was not a living soul near me 
 to have uttered them. The troops were stand- 
 ing at a distance below, and in perfect silence. 
 The words were spoken close to mv ear. But 
 I fatally knew the voice, and conjecture was 
 at an end. 
 
 My limbs felt powerless, as if I had been 
 struck by lightning. I called Jubal up the 
 peak to assist me. But the blow that smote 
 my frame seemed to have smote his mind. 
 His look had grown tenfold more haggard in 
 this single night. His eyes rolled wildly ; 
 his speech was a collection of unmeaning 
 
 sounds, or the language of a fierce disturbance 
 of thought, altogether unintelligible. A luna- 
 tic stood before me. 
 
 Was this to be the foretaste of my own in- 
 fliction 1 I shuddered as the past horrors rose 
 upon my memory. Or was I to see my kin- 
 dred, friends, family, put under the yoke of 
 bodily and mental misery, as a menace of the 
 punishment that was to cut asunder my con- 
 nection with human nature! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 In pain and terror I drew my unfortunate 
 kinsman from the gaze of the troops; and en- 
 treated him to tell me, by what melancholy 
 chance his feelings had been thus disturbed. 
 He looked at me with a fierce glance, and 
 half unsheathed his dagger. But I was not to 
 be repelled ; and still labored to sooth him. 
 He hurriedly grasped the weapon, flung it 
 down the steep, and sinking at my feet burst 
 into tears. 
 
 An uproar in the valley roused me from the 
 contemplation of this wreck of youth and hope. 
 The enemy, though defeated, had suffered 
 little comparative loss. The pride of the le- 
 gions could not brook the idea of defeat, by 
 what they deemed the rabble of the city and 
 the fields. Cestius, under cover of the broken 
 country on our flanks, had rallied the fugitives 
 of the camp; and now, between me and the 
 city, were rapidly advancing in columns, forty 
 thousand men. 
 
 The manoeuvre was bold. It might either 
 cut us off from Jerusalem, and force us to fight 
 at a ruinous disadvantage ! or leave the city 
 totally exposed. But, like all daring games, 
 it was perilous; and I was determined to make 
 the haughty Roman feel that he had an antag- 
 onist, who would not leave the game at his 
 discretion. 
 
 From the pinnacle on which I stood, the 
 whole campaign lay beneath me. Nothing 
 could be lovelier. The grandest combinations 
 of art and nature were before the eye — Jeru- 
 salem on her hills, a city of palaces, and in 
 that hour displaying her full pomp ; her tow- 
 ers streaming with banners ; her battlements 
 crowded with troops; her priesthood and citi- 
 zens in their festal habits, pouring from the 
 colossal gates, and covering the plain with 
 processions ; that plain itself colored and teem- 
 ing with the richest produce of the earth ; 
 groves of the olive ; declivities, purple with 
 the vine, or yellow with corn, gleaming- in the 
 sun, sheets of vegetable gold, richer than ever 
 was dug from Indian mine. 
 
 I gazed with an eye enraptured by the 
 scene of beauty. But the signals of my ad- 
 vanced parties along the heights, soon told me 
 that the enemy w-ere in movement. 
 
 My plan was already adopted. On the right 
 
102 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 spread the plain ; on the left lay the broken 
 and hilly country, through which the enemy 
 were moving by the three principal ravines. 
 I felt that, if they could unite and form, suc- 
 cess, with our undisciplined levies, wasdespe- 
 rate. The only hope was, of beating the col- 
 umns separately, as they emerged into the 
 plain. The moment of action rapidly ar-, 
 riving, Cavalry had begun to scatter over the 
 ground, and ride down upon the processions ; 
 which, startled at the sight, were instantly 
 scattered, and Hying towards Jerusalem. 
 
 “ The day of congratulation is clearly over,” 
 said Jubal, pointing in scorn to the dispersed 
 citizens. “ To-day, at least, you will not 
 receive the homage of those hypocrites of 
 the Sanhedrim.” 
 
 “ Nor, perhaps, to-morrow, fellow soldier, 
 for we must first see of what materials those 
 columns are made. If we beat them, we shall 
 save the elders the trouble of crossing the plain, 
 and receive their honors within the walls. 
 
 “ In Jerusalem !” exclaimed he, wildly. 
 “No; never! You have dangers to encounter 
 within those walls, that no art of man could 
 withstand ; dangers keener than the dagger, 
 more deadly than the aspic, more resistless 
 than the force of armies! Enter Jerusalem, 
 and you are undone.” 
 
 I looked upon him with astonishment. But 
 there was in his eye a sad humility, a strange- 
 ly imploring glance, that formed the most 
 singular contrast to the wildness of his words. 
 “Be warned !” said he, pressing close, as if 
 he dreaded that his secret should be over- 
 heard. “ I have seen horrid things, I have 
 heard horrid things, since I last entered the 
 city. Beware of the leaders of Jerusalem! 
 
 I tell you that they have fearful power, that 
 their hate is inexorable, and that you are its 
 great victim !” 
 
 “ This is altogether beyond my conception: 
 how have I offended 1” 
 
 “ I know not ; but mysterious things are 
 whispered. You are charged with unutter- 
 ble acts. Your sudden abandonment of the 
 priesthood : sights seen in your deserted 
 chambers, which not even the most daring 
 would venture to inhabit: — your escape from 
 dangers, that must have extinguished any 
 other human being, have bred fatal rumors. 
 It has been said that you worshipped in’ the 
 bowels of the mountain of Masada, where the 
 magic fire burns eternally before the form of 
 the Evil one; that you even conquered the 
 fortress, impregnable as it was to man, by a 
 horrid compact ; and that the raising of your 
 standard was the declared sign of that com- 
 pact, dreadfully to be repaid by you and yours!” 
 
 “ Monstrous and incredible calumny ! 
 Where was their evidence? My actions 
 were before the face of the world. Hypo- 
 crites and villains !” 
 
 “If your virtues were written in a sun 
 beam, envy would darken, malice pervert, and 
 hatred destroy exclaimed my kinsman, with 
 the bold countenance and manly feeling of 
 his better days. “ They have in their secret 
 councils stained you with a fate more gloomy 
 than I can comprehend that you are sen- 
 
 tenced even here to the misery reserved for 
 the guilty beyond the grave.” 
 
 I felt as if he had stricken a lance through 
 my heart. Mortal sickness seized on every 
 vein. My blood was ice. Fiery sparkles shot 
 before my eyes. “ There,” thought I, “ is the 
 first infliction of the sentence that is to sepa- 
 rate, to smite, to pursue me, to the last hour 
 of time !” 
 
 I instinctively put my hand to my brow, to 
 feel if the mark of Cain was not already there. 
 I gave one hurried glance at Heaven, as if to 
 see the form of the destroying angel stooping 
 over me. 
 
 But the consciousness that I was in the 
 presence of the multitude, compelled me to 
 master my feelings. I assums*! a desperate 
 firmness, and commanded Jubal to be ready 
 with his proofs of those calumnies, against 
 the time when I should confound my accusers. 
 But I spoke to the winds. I need have dread- 
 ed no observer in him. The interval of rea- 
 son was gone. He burst out into the fiercest 
 horrors. 
 
 “ They pursue me !” exclaimed he ; “ they 
 come by thousands, with the poinard and the 
 poison ! they cry for blood ! they would drive 
 me to a crime black as their own !’’ 
 
 He flung himself at my feet: and clasping 
 them, prevented every effort to save him 
 from this degradation. He buried his face in 
 my robe ; and casting up a sacred look from 
 time to time, as if he shrank from some ob- 
 ject of terror, apostrophized his vision. 
 
 “ Fearful being,” he cried, “spare me; turn 
 away those searching eyes, I have sworn to do 
 the deed, and it shall be done. I have sworn 
 it against faith and honor, against the ties of 
 nature, against the laws of Heaven; but it 
 shall be done. Now, begone! See!” he 
 cowered, pointing t,o a cloud that floated 
 across the sun ; “ see, he spreads his wings, 
 he hovers over me; the thunders are flaming 
 in his hands. Begone, spirit of power and 
 evil ! It shall be done ! Look, where he 
 vanishes into the heights of his kingdom ! the 
 prince of the power of the air.” 
 
 The cloud that fed the fancy of my unfor- 
 tunate kinsmen dissolved, and with it his fear 
 of the tempter. But he lay exhausted at my 
 feet, — his eyes closed, his limbs shuddered, 
 — the emblem of weakness and despair. I 
 tried to rouse hirn by that topic which would 
 once have shot new life into his heroic 
 heart. 
 
 “Rise, Jubal; and see the enemy, whom 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 103 
 
 we have so long thirsted to meet. This bat- 
 tle must not be fought without you. To-day, 
 neither magic nor chance shall be imputed to 
 the conqueror, if I shall conquer. Jerusalem 
 sees the battle : and before the face of my 
 country I will show the faculties that make 
 the leader, or will leave the last drop of my 
 blood upon those fields.” 
 
 The warrior kindled within him. He 
 sprang from the ground, and shot down an 
 eagle glance at the enemy, who had made 
 rapid progress, and were beginning to show 
 the heads of their columns in the plain. He 
 was unarmed; I gave him my sword: and 
 the proud humility with which he put it to 
 his lips, was a pledge to me that it would be 
 honored in his hands. 
 
 “ Glorious thing !” he exclaimed, as he 
 flashed it before the sun, “ that raises man at 
 once to the height of human honors, or sends 
 him where no care can disturb his rest ; thou 
 art the true sceptre that guards and graces 
 empires; the true talisman, more powerful 
 than all the arts of the enchanter ! What, 
 like thee, can lift up the lowly, enrich the 
 destitute, restore the undone ! What talent, 
 consummate knowledge, gift of nature, nay, 
 what smile of fortune can, like thee, in one 
 hour bid the obscure stand forth the idol of a 
 people, or the wonder of a world ! Now, for 
 glory !” he shouted to the listening circle of 
 the troops, who answered him with shouts. 
 “ Now, for glory !” they cried, and poured 
 after him down the side of the mountain. 
 
 The three gorges of the valleys through 
 which the enemy moved, opened into the 
 plain at wide intervals from each other. I 
 delayed our march until the moment at which 
 the nearest column should show its head. 1 
 saw that the eagerness of Cestius to reach 
 the open ground was already hurrying his 
 columns ; and, that from the comparative 
 facilities of the ravine immediately under my 
 position, the nearest column must arrive un- 
 supported. 
 
 The moment came. The helmets and 
 spears were already pouring from the pass, 
 when a gesture of my hand let loose the 
 whole human torrent upon them. Our advan- 
 tage of the ground, our numbers, and impetu- 
 osity, decided the fate of this division at once. 
 The legionaries were not merely repulsed, 
 they were absolutely trampled down ; they 
 lay as if a mighty wall, or a fragment of the 
 mountain, had fallen upon them. 
 
 The two remaining columns were still to 
 be fought. Their solid front, the compact and 
 broad mass of iron that rushed down the ravines, 
 seemed irresistible; arid when I cast a glance 
 on. the irregular and waving lines behind me, 
 I felt the whole peril of the day. Yet I fear- 
 ed idly. The enemy charged, and forced 
 their way into the very centre of the multi- 
 
 tude, like two vast wedges, crushing all be- 
 fore them. But though they could repel, they 
 could not conquer. The spirit of the Jew 
 fighting before Jerusalem was more than 
 heroism. To extinguish a Roman, though 
 at the instant loss of life ; to disable a single 
 spear, though by receiving it in his bosom ; 
 to encumber with his corpse the steps of the 
 adversary, was reward enough for the man 
 of Israel. 
 
 I saw crowds of those bold peasants fling 
 themselves on the ground, to creep between 
 the feet of the legionaries, and die stabbing 
 them ; others casting away the lance to seize 
 the Roman bucklers, and encumber them with 
 the strong grasp of death ; crowds mounted 
 the rising grounds, and leaped down on the 
 spears. 
 
 The enemy overborne with the weight of 
 the multitude, at length found it impossible to 
 move farther : yet their solid strength was 
 not to be broken. Wherever we turned, there 
 was the same wall of shields, the same thick 
 fence of levelled lances. We might as well 
 have assaulted a rock. Our arrows rebound- 
 ed from their impenetrable armor : the stones 
 that poured on them from innumerable slings, 
 rolled off like the hail of a summer shower 
 from a roof. But to have stopped the columns, 
 and prevented their junction, was itself a tri- 
 umph. I felt that thus we had scarcely to do 
 more, than fix them where they stood, and 
 leave the intense heat of the day, thirst, and 
 weariness, to fight our battle. But my troop9 
 were not to be restrained. They still rolled 
 in furious heaps against the living fortification. 
 Every broken lance in that impenetrable bar- 
 rier, every pierced helmet was a trophy ; the 
 fall of a single legionary roused a shout of ex- 
 ultation and was the signal for a new charge. 
 
 But the battle was no longer to be left to our 
 unassisted efforts. The troops in Jerusalem 
 moved down, with Constantius at their head. 
 In the perpetual roar of the conflict, their 
 shouts escaped my ear; and my first intelli- 
 gence of their advances was from Jubal, who 
 had well redeemed his pledge during the day. 
 Hurrying with him to one of the eminences 
 that overlooked the field, I saw with pride 
 and delight the standard of Naphtali spread- 
 ing its red folds at the head of the advancing 
 multitude. u Who commands them 1” asked 
 Jubal eagerly. 
 
 “ Who should command them, with that 
 banner at their head,” replied I, “ but my son, 
 my brave Constantius 1” 
 
 He heard no more ; but, bending his turban 
 to his saddle bow, struck the spur into his 
 horse, and, with a cry of madness, plunged 
 into the centre of the nearest column. The 
 stroke came upon it like a thunderbolt; the 
 phalanx wavered for the first time: a space 
 i was broken in its ranks. The chasm was filled 
 
104 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 up by the charge of my hunters. To save or 
 die with Jubal, was the impulse ! That 
 charge was never recovered ; the column 
 loosened, the multitude pressed in upon it, 
 and Constantius arrived only in time to see 
 the remnant of the proud Roman army flying 
 to the disastrous shelter of the ravine. 
 
 The day was won — I was a conqueror! 
 The invincible legions were invincible no 
 more. I had conquered under the gaze of 
 Jerusalem ! Where was the enmity that 
 would dare to murmur against me now ! 
 What calumny would not be crushed by the 
 force of national gratitude ! A flood of ab- 
 sorbing sensations filled my soul. No elo- 
 quence of man could express the glowing 
 and superb consciousness that swelled my 
 heart, in the moment when I saw the Romans 
 shake, and heard the shouts of my army pro- 
 claiming me victor ! 
 
 After this day, I can forgive the boldest 
 extravagance of the boldest passion for war. 
 That passion is not cruelty, nor the thirst of 
 ossession, nor the longing for supremacy ; 
 ut something made up of them all, and yet 
 superior to all — the essential spirit of the 
 stirring motives of the human mind — the 
 fever of the gamester, kindled by the loftiest 
 objects, and ennobled by them — a game where 
 the stake is an endless inheritance of renown, 
 a sudden lifting of the man into the rank of 
 those on whose names time can make no im- 
 pression ; who let their place on earth be 
 what it may, are at the head of mankind. 
 Immortals, without undergoing the penalty 
 of the gravel 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 I determined to give the enemy no re- 
 spite, and ordered the ravines to be attacked 
 by fresh troops. While they were advancing, 
 I galloped in search of Jubal over the ground 
 of the last charge. He was not to be seen 
 among the living or the dead. 
 
 The look of the field, when the first glow 
 of battle passed, was enough to shake a stern- 
 er spirit than mine. Our advance to the 
 gorges of the mountain, had left the plain 
 naked The sea of turbans and lances was 
 gone, rolling, like the swell of an angry ocean, 
 against the foot of the hills. All before us 
 was the precipitous rock, or the rocky pass, 
 thronged with helmets and spears. But all 
 behind was death, or misery worse than 
 death ; hundreds and thousands groaning in 
 agony, crying out for water to cool their 
 burning lips, imploring the sword to put them 
 
 out of pain. The legionaries lay in their 
 ranks, as they had fought; solid pilesof men, 
 horses, and arms, the true monuments of sol- 
 diership. The veterans of Rome had gal- 
 lantly sustained the honors of her name. 
 
 I turned from this sight towards the res- 
 cued city. The sun was resting on its tow- 
 ers ; the smoke of the evening sacrifice were 
 ascending in slow wreaths from the altar of 
 the sanctuary. The trumpets and voices of 
 the minstrels poured a rich stream of har- 
 mony on the cool air. The recollection of 
 gentler times came upon my heart Through 
 what scenes of anxious feeling had I not pass- 
 ed, since those gates closed upon me! 
 
 The contrast between the holy calm of my 
 early days, and the fierce struggles of my 
 doomed existence, pressed with bitter force. 
 My spirit shook. The warrior enthusiasm 
 was chilled. The sounds of triumph rang 
 hollow in my ear ; and those who had at that 
 hour looked upon the man of victory, the 
 champion of Israel, would have seen but a 
 helpless wretch, hiding his face from human 
 view; and wishing that he could exchange 
 fates with the mangled shapes beside him. 
 
 The trampling of horses roused me from 
 this unwarlike weakness. Constantius came 
 glowing to communicate the intelligene, that 
 the last of the enemy had been driven in, and 
 that his fresh troops only awaited my orders 
 to force the passes. I mounted, heard the 
 shouts of the brave pursuers, and was again 
 the soldier. 
 
 But the iron front of the enemy resisted 
 our boldest attempts to force the ravines. ; 
 The hills were not to be turned ; and we 
 were compelled, after innumerable efforts, to 
 wait for the movement of the Romans from a 
 spot which thirst and hunger must soon make 
 untenable. This day stripped them of their 
 baggage, beasts of burden, and military en- 
 gines. Night fell too speedily — to us a re- 
 luctant relaxation, to them a temporary shel- 
 ter from inevitable ruin. 
 
 At dawn, the pursuit began again. We 
 found the passes open, and the enemy strug- 
 gling to escape out of those fatal defiles. 
 The day was worn away in perpetual at- 
 tempts to break the ranks of the legionaries. 
 The Jew, light, agile, and with nothing to 
 carry but his spear, was a tremendous antag- 
 onist to the Roman, perplexed among rocks 
 and torrents, famishing, and encumbered 
 with an oppressive weight of armor. The 
 losses of this day were dreadful. Our darts 
 commanded their march from the heights; 
 every stone did execution among ranks, 
 whose helmets and shields were now shat- 
 tered by the perpetual discharge. Still they 
 toiled on unbroken. We saw their long line 
 struggling with patientdiscipline through the 
 ' rugged depth below ; and in the face of our 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 attacks they made way, till night again co- 
 vered them. 
 
 I spent that night on horseback. Fatigue 
 was never felt in the strong excitement of 
 the time. I saw multitudes sink at my 
 horse’s feet in sleep as insensible as the rock 
 on which they lay. Sleep never touched my 
 eyelids. I galloped from post to post, brought 
 up reinforcements to my wearied ranks, and 
 longed for morn. 
 
 It came at last ; the enemy had reached 
 the head of the defiles, but a force was 
 poured upon them that nothing could resist : 
 their remaining cavalry were driven from 
 the sides of the precipice into the depths, the 
 few light troops that scaled the higher 
 grounds were swept away. I looked upon 
 their whole army as in my hands, and was 
 riding forward with Constantius and my chief 
 officers to receive their surrender; when 
 they were saved by one of those instances of 
 devotedness, that distinguished the Roman 
 character. 
 
 Wearied of perpetual pursuit and evasion, 
 I was rejoiced to see, at last, symptoms of a 
 determination to wait for us, and try the 
 chance of battle. An abrupt ridge of rock, 
 surmounted with a lofty cone, was the ene- 
 my’s position, long after famous in Jewish 
 annals. A line of spearsmen were drawn 
 up on the ridge; and the broken summit of 
 the cone, a space of a few hundred yards, 
 was occupied by a cohort. Some of the 
 Italian dexterity was employed to give the 
 idea, that Cestius had taken his stand upon 
 this central spot ; an eagle, and a concourse 
 of officers, were exhibited ; and upon this 
 spot I directed the principal attack to be 
 made. 
 
 But the cool bravery of its defenders was 
 not to be shaken. After a long waste of time 
 in efforts to scale the rock ; indignant at see- 
 ing victory retarded by such an obstacle, I 
 left the business to the slingers and archers; 
 and ordered a perpetual discharge to be kept 
 up on the cohort. This was decisive. Every 
 stone and arrow told upon the little force 
 crowded together on the naked height. 
 Shield and helmet sank one by one under the 
 mere weight of missiles. Their circle rapid- 
 ly diminished, and, refusing to surrender, they 
 perished to a man. 
 
 When we took possession, the enemy were 
 gone. The resistance of the cohort had 
 given them time to escape. And Cestius 
 sheltered his degraded laurels behind the 
 ramparts of Bethhoron, by the sacrifice of 
 four hundred heroes. 
 
 This battle, which commenced on the 
 eighth day of the month Marchesvan, had no 
 equal in the war. The loss to the Romans 
 was unparalleled since the defeat ofCrassus. 
 Two legions were destroyed; six thousand 
 
 bodies were left on the field. The whole 
 preparation for the siege of Jerusalem fell 
 into our hands. Then was the hour to have 
 struck the final blow for freedom. Then was 
 given that chance of restoration, that respite, 
 which Providence gives to every nation and 
 every man. But our crimes, our wild feuds, 
 the bigoted fury, and polluted license of our 
 factions, rose up as a cloud between us and 
 the light; we were made to be ruined. 
 
 But those were not my reflections when 
 I saw the gates of Bethhoron closing on the 
 fugitives ; I vowed never to rest, until I 
 brought prisoners to Jerusalem, the last of 
 the sacrilegious army that had dared to as- 
 sault the Temple. 
 
 The walls of Bethhoron, manned only with 
 the wreck of the troops that we had routed 
 from all their positions, could offer no impedi- 
 ment to hands and hearts like ours. I or- 
 dered an immediate assault. The resistance 
 was desperate, for beyond this city there was 
 no place of refuge nearer than Antipafris. 
 We were twice repulsed. I headed the third 
 attack myself. The dead filled up the ditch, 
 and I had already arrived at the foot of the 
 rampart, with the scaling ladder in mv hand, 
 when I heard Jubal’s voice behind me. lie 
 u r as leaping and dancing in the attitudes of 
 utter madness. But there was no fme to 
 be lost. I rushed upon the battlemenls, tore 
 a standard from its bearer, and waved it o\cr 
 my head with a shoutof victory. Tne plain, 
 the hills, the valleys, covered with the best 
 rushing to the assault, echoed the cry ; I was 
 at the summit of fortune ! 
 
 In the next moment I felt a sudden shock. 
 Darkness covered my eyes, and I plunged 
 headlong. 
 
 I awoke in a dungeon. 
 
 In that dungeon I lay two years. How I 
 lived, how I bore to retain existence, I can 
 now have no conception. I was for the 
 greater part of the time in a kind of ch 'd sh- 
 ness. I was not mad, nor altogether insen- 
 sible of things about me, nor even without 
 the occasional inclination for the common ob- 
 jects and propensities of our being. 1 u ed 
 to look for the glimmer of day-light, that \\ as 
 suffered to enter my cell. The n flection of 
 the moon in a pool, of which, by climbing to 
 the loop-hole, I could gain a glimpse, was 
 waited for with some feeble feeling of plea- 
 sure. But my animal appetites were more 
 fully alive than ever. An hour’s delay of 
 the miserable provision that was thrown 
 through my bars, made me wretched. I de- 
 voured it like a wild beast, and then longed 
 through the dreary hours for its coming again. 
 
 I made no attempt to escape. 1 dragged 
 myself once to the entrance of the dungeon, 
 found it secured by an iron door, and never 
 
Salathiet. 
 
 tried it again. If every bar had been open, 
 I scarcely know, whether I should have at- 
 tempted to pass it. Even in my more reason- 
 ing hours, l felt no desire to move; Destiny 
 was upon me. My doom was marked in 
 characters, which nothing but blindness could 
 fail to read; and to struggle with fate, what 
 was it but to prepare for new misfortune! 
 
 The memory of my wife and children some- 
 times broke through the icy apathy with 
 which I labored to incrust my mind. Tears 
 flowed, nature stung my heart, I groaned, 
 and made the vault ring with the cries of 
 the exile from earth and heaven. But this 
 passed away, and I was again the self-di- 
 vorced man, without a tie to bind him to tran- 
 sitory things. 
 
 I heard the thunder, and the winds ; the 
 lightnings sometimes startled me from my 
 savage sleep. But what were they to me ! 
 I was dreadfully secure from the fiercest rage 
 of nature. There were nights when I 
 conceived that I could distinguish the roar- 
 ings of the ocean, and, shuddering, seemed 
 to hear the cries of drowning men. But 
 those too passed away. I swept remembrance 
 from my mind, and felt a sort of vague en- 
 joyment in the effort to defy the last power 
 of evil. Cold, heat, hunger, waking, sleep,- 
 were the calendar of my year, the only points 
 in which I was sensible of existence ; I felt 
 myself like some of those torpid animals 
 which, buried in stones from the creation, 
 live on until the creation shall be no more. 
 
 But this stern heaviness was only for the 
 waking hour. Night had its old implacable 
 dominion over me, full of vivid misery, 
 crowded with the bitter sweet of memory. 
 I wandered free among those, in whose faces 
 and forms my spirit found matchless loveli- 
 ness; then the cruel caprice of fancy would 
 sting me; in the very concord of enchanting 
 sounds, there would come a funereal voice. 
 In the circle of the happy, I was appalled by 
 some hideous visage uttering words of mise- 
 ry. A. spectral form would hang upon my 
 steps, and tell me that I was undone. 
 
 From one of those miserable slumbers I 
 was roused by a voice pronouncing my name. 
 I at first confounded it with the wanderings 
 of sleep. But a chilling touch upon my fore- 
 head, completely aroused me. It was night, 
 yet my eyes, accustomed to the darkness, 
 gradually discovered the first intruder who 
 ever stood within my living grave; nothing 
 human could look more like the dead. A 
 breathing skeieton stood before me. The 
 skin clung to his bones, misery was in every 
 feature, the voice was scarcely above a whis- 
 per. 
 
 “ Rise,” said this wretched being, “prince 
 of Naphtali, you are free; follow roe.” 
 
 Strange thoughts were in the words. Was 
 
 (this indeed the universal summoner? the 
 being whom the prosperous dread, but the 
 wretched love? Had the King of terrors 
 stood before me, I could not have gazed on 
 him with more wonder. “Rise,” said the 
 voice impatiently; “we have but' an hour 
 till day-break, and you must escape now, or 
 never.” The sound of freedom scattered my 
 apathy. The world opened upon my heart ; 
 country, friends, children, were in the word, 
 and I started up with the feeling of one, to 
 whom life is given on the scaffold. 
 
 My guide hurried forward through the 
 winding way to the door. He stopped, I 
 heard him utter a groan, strike fiercely 
 against the bars, and fall. . I found him lying 
 at the threshhold without speech or motion; 
 carried him back; and by the help of the 
 cruse of water left to moisten my solitary 
 meal, restored him to his senses. 
 
 “ The wind,” said he “ must have closed 
 the door, and we are destined to die toge- 
 ther. So be it ; with neither of us can the 
 stuggle be long. Farewell!” He flung him- i 
 self upon his face in a corner, and seemed to : 
 sleep. A noise of some heavy instrument ; 
 roused us both. He listened, and said, 
 “There is hope still. The slave who let me 
 in, is forcing the door.” We rushed to assist 
 him ; and tugged and tore at the massive 
 stones in which the hinges were fixed ; but 
 found our utmost strength ineffectual as an 
 infant’s. The slave now cried out, that he 
 must give up the attempt; that day was 
 breaking, and the guard were at hand. We 
 implored him to try once more. By a vio- ; 
 lent effort, he drove his crow-bar through one 
 of the pannels, the gleam of light gave us 
 courage, and with our united strength we 
 heaved at the joints, which were evidently 
 loosening. 
 
 In the midst of our work, the slave fled ; 
 and I heard a plunge into the pool beneath. 
 
 “ He has perished,” said my companion. 
 
 “ The door is on the face of a precipice. He 
 has fallen in the attempt to escape, and we 
 are now finally undone.” 
 
 The guard, disturbed by the noise, arrived, 
 and in the depths of our cell we heard the i 
 day spent in making the impassable barrier i 
 firmer than ever. 
 
 For some hours my companion lay in that 
 state of exhaustion, which I could not dis- 
 tinguish from uneasy slumber, and which I 
 attributed to the fatigue of our mutual labors. 
 But his groans became so deep, that I ven- 
 tured to rouse him, and even to cheer him 
 with the chances of escape. 
 
 “ I have not slept,” said he ; “I shall never 
 sleep again, until the grave gives me that 
 slumber in which the wretched can alone 
 find rest. Escape ! No — for months, for 
 years, I have had but one object ; I have tra- 
 
4 
 
106 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 versed mountain and sea for it, I have given 
 to it day and night, all the wealth that I 
 possessed in the world ; I could give no more, 
 but my life; and that too I was to give. I 
 stood within sight of this object. Its attain- 
 ment would have comforted my dying hour. 
 But it is snatched from me in the very mal- 
 ice of fortune ; and now the sooner I perish 
 the better.” He writhed with mental 
 pain. 
 
 “ But what cause can you have for being 
 here ! You are no prisoner. You have not 
 fought our tyrants. Who are you 1” 
 
 “One whom you can never know. A 
 being born to honor and happiness ; but who 
 perverted them by pride and revenge, and 
 whose last miserable hope is, that he may 
 die unknown, and without the curses that 
 fall on the traitor and the murderer.” 
 
 1 knew the speaker in those words of woe. 
 I cried out, “ Jubal, my friend, my kinsman, 
 my hero; is it youthen who have risked your 
 life to save me V’ I threw myself beside 
 him. He crept from me. I caught his mea- 
 gre hand. I forced food into his lips; in the 
 deepest grief at his obvious suffering, I ad- 
 jured him to live and hope. 
 
 He started away wildly. “ Touch me not, 
 Prince of Naphtali, I am unfit to live. I — I 
 have been your ruin ; and yet he who knows 
 the heart, knows that I alone am not to 
 blame. I was a dupe, a slave to furious 
 passions, the victim of evil counsellors, the 
 prey of disease of mind. What I did, was 
 done in malice, but it was done in madness 
 too. On my crimes may Heaven have 
 jnercy ! for they are beyond the forgiveness 
 of man.” 
 
 By the feeble light which showed scarcely 
 more than the wretchedness of my dungeon, 
 I made some little preparations for the re- 
 freshment of this feverish and famished 
 being. His story agitated him ; and, strong- 
 ly awakened as my curiosity was, I forbore 
 all question. But it lay a burden on his 
 mind, and I suffered him to make his con- 
 fession. 
 
 “ I loved Salome,” said he. “ But I was 
 so secure of acceptance, according to the 
 custom of our tribe, that I never conceived 
 the possibility of an obstacle to our marriage. 
 My love and my pride were equally hurt by 
 her rejection. The return of Salome from 
 Rome, and the new distinctions of her hus- 
 band, your gratitude, and the popular ap- 
 plause, made my envy bitterness. To change 
 the scene, I went to Jerusalem. I there 
 found the spirit of malice active. Your 
 learning and talents had made you obnoxious 
 long before ; your new opulence and rank 
 turned dislike into hatred. Onias, whose 
 dagger you turned from the bosom of the 
 noble Eleazar, remembered his disgrace. 
 
 He headed the conspiracy against you ; and 
 nothing but your heroism, and the daring 
 vigor which you stirred up the nation, could 
 have saved you long since from the last ex- 
 tremities of faction and revenge. My un- 
 happy state of mind threw me into his hands. 
 I was inflamed against you by perpetual cal- 
 umnies. My feelings, morbid with fancied 
 wrongs, hurried me into violences of lan- 
 guage and wild resolutions, that now strike 
 me with wonder. It was even proposed that 
 I should accuse you before the Sanhedrim of 
 dealing with the powers of darkness. Proofs 
 were offered, which my bewildered and 
 broken reason could scarcely resist. I was 
 assailed with subtle argument; the latent 
 superstitions of my nature were stimulated 
 by sights and scenes of strange import, hor- 
 rid and mysterious displays, which implicate 
 the leaders of Jerusalem deeply in the 
 charges laid by our law upon the idolaters. 
 Spirits, or the semblances of spirits, were 
 raised before my eyes, voices were heard in 
 the depths and in the air, denouncing you, 
 even you, as the enemy of Judea and of man. 
 I was commanded, in the midst of thunders, 
 real or feigned, to destroy you.” 
 
 Here his voice sank, his frame quivered; 
 and wrapping his head in his cloak, he re- 
 mained long silent. To relieve him from 
 this painful narrative, I asked for intelligence 
 of my family and of the country. 
 
 “ Of your family I can tell you nothing,” 
 said he, mournfully; “I shrank from the 
 very mention of their name. During these 
 two years, I had but one pursuit, the discovery 
 of your prison. I refused to hear, to think 
 of other things. 1 felt that 1 was dying, and 
 I dreaded to appear before the great tribunal 
 with the groans from your dungeon rising up 
 to stifle my prayers.” 
 
 “ But is our country still torn by the Ro- 
 man wolves 1” 
 
 “ Its destruction forced itself on my eyes. 
 The whole land is in tumult. Blood and 
 horror are under every roof from Lebanon to 
 Idumea. The Roman sword is out, and it 
 falls with cruel havoc; but the Jewish dag- 
 ger pays it home, and the legions quail be- 
 fore the naked valor of the peasantry. But 
 what are valor or patriotism to us now"! we 
 are in our grave !” 
 
 The thought of my family, exposed to the 
 miseries of a ferocious war, only kindled my 
 eagerness to escape from this den of oblivion. 
 I rose, it was evening, and the melancholy 
 moon threw the old feeble gleam on the 
 water, which had so long been to me the 
 only mirror of her countenance. I observed 
 the light darkened by a figure stealing along 
 the edge of the pool. It approached, and 
 the words were whispered: “It is impossi- 
 ble to break open the door from without, as 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 107 
 
 the guard are on the watch ; but try whether 
 it cannot be opened from within.” A crow- 
 bar was pushed into the loop-hole ; its bearer, 
 the slave, who had escaped by swimming, 
 jumped down and was gone. 
 
 I left Jubal where he lay, lingered at the 
 door till all external sounds ceased, and then 
 made my desperate attempt. I was wasted 
 by confinement ; but the mind is force. I 
 labored with furious effort at the mass of 
 bolt and bar, and at length felt it begin to 
 give way. I saw a star, the first for two 
 long years, twinkling through the fracture. 
 A quarter of an hour’s labor more unfixed 
 the huge hinge, and I felt the night air cool 
 and fragrant on my cheek. I now grasped 
 the last bar, and was in the act of forcing 
 it from the wall, when the thought of Jubal 
 struck me. There was a struggle of a mo- 
 ment in my mind. To linger now, might 
 be to give the guard time to intercept me.' 
 I was ravening for liberty. It was to me 
 now, what water in the desert is to the dying 
 caravan. It was the sole assuaging of a 
 frantic thirst, of a fiery and consuming fever 
 of the soul. If every grain of dust under 
 my feet were diamonds, 1 would have 
 given them to feel myself treading the dewy 
 grass that lay waving on the hill-side before 
 me. 
 
 A tall shadow passed along, and compelled 
 me to pause. It was that of a mountain 
 shepherd, spear in hand, guarding his flock 
 from the depredations of the wolves. He 
 stopped at a short distance from the dun- 
 geon, and gazing on the moon, broke out 
 with a rude but not unsweet voice into song. 
 The melody was wild, a lamentation over 
 the fallen glories of Judea ; “ whose sun was 
 set, and whose remaining light, sad and holy 
 as the beauty of the moon, must soon de- 
 cay.” The word freedom mingled in the 
 strain, and every note of that solemn strain 
 vibrated to my heart. The shepherd passed 
 along. 
 
 I tore down the bar, and gazed upon the 
 glorious face of heaven. My feet were upon 
 the free ground. I returned hastily to the 
 cell, and told Jubal the glad tidings; but he 
 heard me not. To abandon him there was 
 to give him up to inevitable death, either by 
 the rage of the guard, or by the less merci- 
 ful infliction of famine. I carried him on my 
 shoulders to the entrance. 
 
 A roar of wrath, mixed with ridicule, broke 
 on me as I touched the threshold. The 
 guard stood drawn up in front of the dilapi- 
 dated door; and the sight of the prisoner, en- 
 trapped in the very cnsis of escape, was the 
 true food for ruffian mirth. Staggering 
 under my burden, I yet burst forward, but I 
 was received in a circle of leveled spears. 
 Resistance was desperate ; yet, even when 
 8 
 
 sunk upon the ground under my burden, I 
 attempted to resist, or gather their points 
 into my bosom and perish. But my feeble 
 efforts only raised new scoffing. I was un- 
 worthy of Roman steel; and the guard, after 
 amusing themselves with my impotent rage, 
 dragged me within the passage, placed Jubal, 
 who neither spoke nor moved, beside me, 
 blocked up the door, and wished me “ better 
 success the next time.” 
 
 I spent the remainder of that night in 
 fierce agitation. The apathy, the protecting 
 scorn of external things that I had nurtured, 
 as other men would nurture happiness, was 
 gone. The glimpse of the sky haunted me; 
 a hundred times in the course of the night I 
 thought that I was treading on the grass; 
 that I felt its refreshing moisture ; that the 
 air was breathing balm on my cheek ; that 
 the shepherd’s song was still echoing in my 
 ears, and that I saw him pointing to a new 
 way of escape from my inextricable dungeon. 
 In one of my ramblings I fell over Jubal. 
 Exasperated at the stern reality round me, I 
 flung the crow-bar from my hand. A sound 
 followed, like the fall of large stones into 
 the water. The sound continued. Still 
 stranger echoes followed, which my bewil- 
 dered fancy turned into all similitudes of 
 earth and ocean ; the march of troops, the 
 distant roar of thunder, the dashing of bil- 
 lows, the clamor of battle, the boisterous 
 mirth of Bacchanalians; the groaning 
 and heaving of masts and rigging tossed by 
 storm. 
 
 The dungeon was dark as death, and I felt 
 my way towards the sound. To my surprise, 
 the accidental blow of the bar had loosened 
 a part of the wall ; and made an orifice large 
 enough to admit the human body. The pale 
 light of morning showed a cavern beyond, 
 narrow and rugged ; but into which I was re- 
 solved to penetrate. It branched into a va- 
 riety of passages, some of them fit for nothing 
 but the fox’s burrow. Two were wider. 1 
 returned to the lair of my unhappy compan- 
 ion, and prevailed on him to follow, only by 
 the declaration, that, if he refused, I must 
 perish by his side. My scanty provisions 
 were gathered up. I led the way ; and, de- 
 termined never to return to the place of my 
 misery, we set forward, to tempt in utter 
 darkness the last chances of famine — pilgrims 
 of the tomb. 
 
 We wandered through a fearful labyrinth 
 for a period which utterly exhausted us. Of 
 ! night or day we had no knowledge; but hun- 
 1 ger keenly told us that it was long. I was 
 sinking; when a low groan struck my ear. I 
 listened parrtingly: it came again. It was 
 evidently from some object close beside me. 
 I put forth my hand, and pulled away a pro- 
 jecting stone: a flash of light illumined the 
 
108 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 passage. Another step would have plunged 
 us into a pool a thousand feet below. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The cavern thus opened to us was large, 
 and seemed to be the magazine of some place 
 of trade. It was crowded with chests and 
 bales heaped together in disorder. But life 
 and liberty were before us. I cheered Jubal, 
 till his scattered senses returned, and he 
 clasped my feet in humiliation and gratitude. 
 
 We were like men created anew. Sudden 
 strength nerved our limbs: we forced our 
 way through piles, that but an hour before 
 would have been mountains to our despairing 
 strength. After long labor we worked our 
 passage to a door. It opened into another 
 cavern, palpably the dwelling of some master 
 of extraordinary opulence. Rich tissues were 
 hung on the walls ; the ceiling was a Tyrian 
 canopy ; precious vases stood on tables of cit- 
 ron and ivory. A large lyre superbly orna- 
 mented hung in an opening of the rock, and 
 gave its melancholy music to the wind. But 
 no human being was to be seen. Was this 
 one of the true wonders that men classed 
 among the fictions of Greece and Asia! The 
 Nereids with their queen could not have 
 sought a more secluded palace. Still onward 
 were heard the sounds of ocean. We follow- 
 ed them, and saw one of those scenes of gran- 
 deur which nature creates, as if to show the 
 littleness of man. 
 
 An arch, three times the height of the lof- 
 tiest temple, and ribbed with marble, rose 
 broadly over our heads. Innumerable shafts 
 of the purest alabaster, rounded with the per- 
 fection of sculpture, rose in groups and clus- 
 ters to the solemn roof: wild’flowers and 
 climbing plants of every scent and hue ga- 
 thered round the capitals, and hung the gi- 
 gantic sides of the hall with a lovelier deco- 
 ration than ever was wrought in loom. The 
 awful beauty of this ocean-temple bowed the 
 heart in instinctive homage. I felt the sa- 
 credness of nature. 
 
 But this grandeur was alone worthy of the 
 spectacle to which it opened. The whole 
 magnificence of the Mediterranean spread 
 before our eyes, smooth as polished silver, 
 and now reflecting the glories of the west. 
 The sun lay on the horizon in the midst of 
 crimson clouds, like a monarch on the fune- 
 ral pile, sinking in conflagration that lighted 
 earth and ocean. 
 
 But at this noble portal we had reached 
 our limit. The sides of the cavern projected 
 so far into the waters as to make a small an- 
 chorage. Access or escape by land was pal- 
 pably impossible. Yet here at least we were 
 
 masters. No claimant presented himself to 
 dispute our title. The provisions of our un- 
 known host were ample, and, to our eager 
 tastes, dangerous, from their luxury. The 
 evening that we passed over our repast at 
 the entrance of the cave, exhilarated with 
 the first sensations of liberty, and enjoying 
 every aspect and voice of the lovely scene 
 with the keenness of the most unhoped-for 
 novelty, was a full recompense for the toils 
 and terrors of the labyrinth. 
 
 All before us was peace. — The surge that 
 died at our feet murmured peace ; the wheel- 
 ing sea-birds, as their long trains steered 
 homeward, pouring out from time to time a 
 clangor of wild sounds that descended to us 
 in harmony; the little white-sailed vessels, 
 that skimmed along the distant waters like 
 flies; the breeze waving the ivy and arbutus 
 that festooned our banquet-hall ; alike spoke 
 to the heart the language of peace, 
 j “ If,” said I, “ my death-bed were left to 
 my own choice, on the verge of this cavern 
 would 1 wish to take my last farewell.” 
 
 “ To the dying all places must be indiffer- 
 ent,” replied my companion : “When Death 
 is at hand, his shadow fills the mind. What 
 matters it to the exile, who in a few moments 
 must leave his country forever, on what spot 
 of its shore his last step is planted! Perhaps 
 the lovelier that spot, the more painful the 
 parting. If I must have my choice, let me 
 die in the dungeon, or in battle; in the chain 
 that makes me hate the earth, or in the strug- 
 gle that makes it be forgotten.” 
 
 “ Yet, even for battle, if we would acquit 
 ourselves as becomes men, is not some pre- 
 vious rest almost essential 1 and for the sterner 
 conflict with that mighty enemy, before 
 whom our strength is vapor, is it not well to 
 prepare with the whole means of mental for- 
 titude? I would not perish in the irritation 
 of the dungeon ; in the blind fury of man 
 against man ; nor in the hot and giddy whirl 
 of human cares. Let me lay my sinking 
 frame where nothing shall intrude upon the 
 nobler business of the mind. But these are 
 melancholy thoughts. Come, Jubal, fill to 
 the speedy deliverance of our country.” 
 
 “ Here, then, to her speedy deliverance, 
 and the glory of those who fight her battles !” 
 The cup was filled to the brim ; but just as 
 the wine touched his lips he flung it away. 
 “ No,” exclaimed he, in bitterness of soul, 
 “ it is not for such as I to join in the aspira- 
 tions of the patriot and the soldier. Prince 
 of Naphtali, your generous nature has for- 
 given me ; but there is an accuser here,” and 
 he struck his withered hand wildly upon his 
 bosom, “ that can never be silenced. Under 
 the delusions, the infernal delusions of your 
 enemies, I followed you through along period 
 of your career unseen. Every act, almost 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 109 
 
 every thought, was made known to me ; for 
 you were surrounded by the agents of your 
 enemies. I was urged by the belief that you 
 were utterly accursed by our law, and that 
 to drive the dagger to your heart was to re- 
 deem our cause. But the act was against 
 my nature, and in the struggle my reason 
 failed. When I stood before you on the 
 morning’of the great battle, you saw me in 
 one of those fits of frenzy that always follow- 
 ed a new command to murder. The misery 
 of seeing Salome’s husband once more trium- 
 phant finally plunged me into the Roman 
 ranks to seek for death. I escaped, followed 
 the army, and reached Bethoron in the 
 midst of the assault. Still frantic, I thought 
 that in you I saw my rival victorious, and 
 sprang upon the wall. It was this hand, this 
 parricidal hand, that struck the blow — .” 
 He covered his face and sighed convul- 
 sively. 
 
 The mystery of my captivity was now 
 cleared up, and feeling only pity and for- 
 giveness for the ruin that remorse had made, 
 I succeeded at last in restoring him to some 
 degree of calmness. I even ventured to 
 cheer him with the hope of better days, 
 when in the palace of my fathers I should 
 acknowledge my deliverer. With a pres- 
 sure of the hand, and a melancholy smile, 
 “ I know,” said he, “ that I have not long to 
 live. But if any prayer of mine is to be an- 
 swered by the Power that I have so deeply 
 offended, it would be to die in some act of 
 service to my prince and generous bene- 
 factor. But hark !” 
 
 A groan was uttered close to the spot 
 where we sat. I perceived for the first time 
 an opening behind some furniture; entered, 
 and saw lying on a bed a man apparently in 
 the last state of exhaustion. He exclaimed, 
 “ Three days of misery — three days left 
 alone, to die; — without food, without help, 
 abandoned by all. But I have deserved it. 
 Traitor and villain as I am, I have deserved 
 a thousand deaths !” 
 
 I looked upon this as but the raving of 
 pain, and brought him some wine. He 
 swallowed it with fierce avidity; but even 
 while I held the cup to his lips, he sank back 
 with a cry of horror. “ Aye,” cried he, “I 
 knew that I could not escape you ; you are 
 come at last. Spirit, leave me to die. Or 
 if,” said he, half rising, and looking in my 
 face with a steady yet dim glare, “you can 
 tell the secrets of the grave, tell me what is 
 my fate. I adjure you, fearful being, by 
 the God of Israel : by the god of the Pagan ; 
 or if you acknowledge any god beyond the 
 last hour of miserable man, tell me what I 
 am to be.” 
 
 I continued silent, and struck with the 
 agony of his features. Jubal entered, and 
 
 the looks of the dying man were turned on 
 him. 
 
 “ More of them !” he exclaimed, “ more 
 tormentors! more terrible witnesses of the 
 tortures of a wretch whom earth casts out ! 
 What I demand of you is the fate of those 
 who lived as I have lived — the betrayer, the 
 plunderer, the man of blood 1 But you will 
 give me no answer. The time for your 
 power is not come.” He lay for a short 
 
 period in mental sufferings : then, starting 
 upon his feet by an extraordinary effort of 
 nature, and with furious execrations at the 
 tardiness of death, he tore off the bandage 
 which covered a wound on his forehead. 
 The blood streamed down, and made him a 
 ghastly spectacle. “ Aye,” cried he, as he 
 looked upon his stained hands, “ this is the 
 true color ; the traitor’s blood should cover 
 the traitor’s hands. Years of crime, this is 
 your reward. The betrayal of my noble 
 master to death, the ruin of his house, 
 the destruction of his name; these were 
 the right beginning to the life of the 
 robber.” 
 
 A peal of thunder rolled over our heads, 
 and the gush of the rising waves roared 
 through the cavern. 
 
 “Aye, there is your army,” he cried, 
 “coming in the storm. I have seen your 
 angry visages at night in the burning vil- 
 lage ; I have seen you in the shipwreck ; I 
 have seen you in the howling wilderness ; 
 but now I see you in shapes more terrible 
 than all.” 
 
 The wind, bursting through the lorig 
 vaults, forced open the door. “Welcome, 
 welcome to your prey !” he yelled ; and, 
 drawing a knife from his sash, darted it into 
 his bosom. The act was so instantaneous, 
 that to arrest the blow was impossible. 
 He fell, and died with a brief fierce strug- 
 gle. 
 
 “ Horrible end,” murmured Jubal, gazing 
 on the stiffened form ; — “ here is theory an- 
 swered at once. Happier for that wretch 
 to have perished in the hottest strife of man 
 or nature, trampled in the charge, or plung- 
 ed into the billows ! But, save me from the 
 misery of lonely death !” 
 
 “ Yet it was our presence that made him 
 1 feel. He was guilty of some crime, perhaps 
 of many, that the sight of us strangely 
 awoke to torment his dying hour. He gazed 
 upon me with evident alarm, and, not 
 improbably, my withered face, and those 
 rags of my dungeon, startled him into 
 recollections too strong for his decaying 
 reason.” 
 
 “ Have you ever seen him before 1” 
 
 “ Never.” I gave a reluctant look to the 
 hideous distortion of a countenance still full 
 of the final agony. 
 
110 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 “ Now, to think of ourselves. We shall 
 have soon our own experiment fairly tried. 
 A few days must exhaust our provisions. 
 The surges roll on one hand, on the other 
 we have the rock. But we shall die at least 
 in pomp. No king of Asia will lie in a no- 
 bler vault, nor even have sincerer rejoicings 
 at his end ; the crows and vultures are no 
 hypocrites,” said Jubal, with a melancholy 
 smile. 
 
 The dead man’s turban had fallen off in 
 his last violence, and I perceived the corner 
 of a letter in its folds. Its intelligence start- 
 led me. It was from the commandant of the 
 Roman fleet on the coast, mentioning that a 
 squadron was in readiness to “attack the 
 pirates in their cavern.” 
 
 A heavy sound, as if something of im- 
 mense weight had rushed into the entrance 
 of the arch and then the echo of many voices, 
 stopped our conversation. 
 
 “ The Romans have come,” said I, “ and 
 you will be now indulged with your wish ; 
 our lives are forfeited; for never will I go 
 back to the dungeon.” 
 
 “ I hear no sound but that of laughter,” 
 said Jubul, listening; “those invaders are 
 the merriest of cut-throats. But, before we 
 give ourselves actually into their hands, let 
 us see of what they are made.” 
 
 We left the chamber, and returned to the 
 recess from which we had originally emerg- 
 ed. Its position commanded a view of the 
 chief avenues and chambers of the cavern ; 
 and while I was busy below in securing the 
 door, Jubal mounted the wall, and recon- 
 noitered the enemy through a fissure. 
 “Those are no Romans,” whispered he, 
 “ but a set of the most jovial fellows that 
 ever robbed on the seas. They have clearly 
 been driven in by the storm, and are now 
 preparing to feast. Their voyage has been 
 lucky, if I am to judge by the bales that 
 they are hauling in ; and, if wine can do it, 
 they will be in an hour or two drunk to the 
 last man.” 
 
 “ Then we can take advantage of their 
 sleep, let loose one of their boats, and 
 away.” 
 
 I mounted, to see this pirate festivity. In 
 the various vistas of the huge cavern, groups 
 of bold-faced and athletic men were gathered, 
 all busy with the bustle of the time : some 
 piling fires against the walls, and preparing 
 provisions: some stripping off their wet gar- 
 ments, and brinsfing others out. of heaps of 
 every kind and color, from recesses in the 
 rock : some furbishing their arms, and wiping 
 the spray from rusty helmets and corslets. 
 The hollow vaults rang with songs, boister- 
 ous laughter, the rattling of armor, and the 
 creaking and rolling of chests of plunder. 
 The dashing of the sea under the gale filled 
 
 up this animated dissonance; and at intervals 
 the thunder bursting directly above our heads, 
 overpowered all, and silenced all. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The chamber, whose costly equipment first 
 told us of the opulence of its masters, was set 
 apart for the chief rovers, who were soon 
 seated at a large table in its centre, cov red 
 with luxury. Flagons of wine were brought 
 from cellars known only to the initiated ; 
 fruits piled in silver baskets blushed along the 
 board ; plate of the richest workmanship, the 
 plunder of palaces and temples, glittered in 
 every form ; tripods loaded with aromatic 
 wood threw a blaze up to the marble roof; 
 and from the central arch hung a superb 
 Greek lamp, shooting out a light from a hun- 
 dred mouths of serpents twined in all possible 
 ways. The party before me were about thir- 
 ty: as fierce looking figures as ever toiled 
 through tempest: some splendidly attired, 
 some in the rough costume of the deck ; but 
 all jovial, and determined to make the most 
 of their time. Other men had paid for the 
 banquet; and there was probably not a vase 
 on their table that was not the purchase of 
 personal hazard. They sat, conquerers, in 
 the midst of their own trophies ; and not the 
 most self-indulgent son of opulence could 
 have more luxuriated in his wealth, nor the 
 most exquisite student of epicurism have 
 discussed his luxuries with more finished 
 and fastidious science. Lounging on couches 
 covered with embroidered draperies, too cost- 
 ly for all but princes, they lectured the cooks 
 without mercy : the venison, pheasants, stur- 
 geon, and a multitude of other dishes, were 
 in succession pronounced utterly unfit to be 
 touched ; and the wine was tasted, and dis- 
 missed with the scorn of palates refined to 
 the highest point of delicacy. Yet the sea 
 air was not to be trifled with : and a succes- 
 sion of courses appeared, and were dispatch- 
 ed with a diligence that prohibited all lan- 
 guage, beyond the pithy phrases of delight 
 or disappointment. 
 
 The wine at length set the conversation 
 flowing; and, from the merits of the various 
 vintages, the speakers diverged into the 
 Sfeneral subjects of politics and their profes- 
 sion ; on the former of which they visited 
 all parties with tolerably equal ridicule; and, 
 on the latter, declared unanimously, that the 
 only cause worthy of a man of sense was the 
 'cause for which they were assembled round 
 that table. The next staee was the more 
 | hazardous one of personal jocularity; yet 
 I even this was got over, with but a few mur- 
 murs from the parties suffering. Songs and 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 Ill 
 
 toasts to themselves, their loves, matron and 
 maid, within the shores of the Mediterra- 
 nean; and their enterprises in all time to 
 come, relieved the drier topics ; and all was 
 good fellowship, until one unlucky goblet of ( 
 spoiled wine soured the table. 
 
 “So, this you call Chian,” exclaimed a' 
 broad-built figure, whose yellow hair and 
 blue eyes showed him a son of the north ; 
 “ may I be poisoned,” and he made a hideous 
 grimace, “ if more detestable vinegar ever 
 was brewed ; let me but meet the merchant, 
 and I shall teach him a lesson that he will 
 remember, when next he thinks of murder- 
 ing men at their meals. Here, baboon, take 
 it; it is fit only for such as you.” He flung 
 the goblet point-blank at the head of a ne- 
 gro, who escaped it only by bounding to one 
 side with the agility of the ape, that he so 
 much resembled. 
 
 “ Bad news, Vladomir, for our winter’s 
 stock, for half of it is Chian,” said a dark- 
 featured and brilliant-eyed Arab, who sat 
 at the head of the table. “ Ho ! Syphax, 
 fill round from that flagon, and let us 
 hold a council of war upon the delinquent 
 wine.” 
 
 The slave dexterously changed the wine ; 
 it was poured round, pronounced first- rate, 
 and the German was laughed at remorse- 
 lessly. 
 
 “ I suppose I am not to believe my own 
 senses,” remonstrated Vladomir. 
 
 “ Oh ! by all means, as long as you keep 
 them,” said one laughing. 
 
 “ Will you tell me, that I don’t know 
 the difference between wine and that poi- 
 son 1” 
 
 “ Neither you nor any man, friend Vla- 
 domir, can know much upon the subject 
 after his second dozen of goblets ;” sneer- 
 ed another at the German’s national propen- 
 sity. 
 
 “You do him injustice,” said a subtle-vis- 
 aged Chiote at the opposite side of the table. 
 “He is as much in his senses this moment 
 as ever he was. There are brains of that 
 happy constitution, which defies alike reason 
 and wine.” 
 
 “Well, I say no more,” murmured the 
 German, sullenly, “than, confound tne spot: 
 on which that wine grew, wherever it lies;; 
 the hungriest vineyard on the Rhine would 
 be ashamed to show its equal. By Woden, 
 the very taste will go with me to my 
 grave.” 
 
 “Perhaps it may,” said the Chiote, irri- 
 tated for the honor of his country, and signifi- 
 cantly touching his dagger. “ But were 
 you ever in the island 1” 
 
 “No; nor ever shall, with my own con- 
 sent, if that flagon be from it,” growled the 
 German, with his broad eye glaring on his 
 
 adversary : “ I have seen enough of its pro- 
 duce, alive and dead to-night.” 
 
 The wind roared without, and a tremen- 
 dous thunder peal checked the angry dia- 
 logue. There was a general pause. 
 
 “Come, comrades, no quarrelling,” cried 
 the Arab. “ Heavens, how the storm comes 
 on ! Nothing can ride out to-night. Here’s 
 the captain’s health, and safe home to him.” 
 The cups were filled; but the disputants 
 were not to be so easily reconciled. 
 
 “ Ho ! Memnon,” cried the master of the 
 table to a sallow Egyptain, richly clothed, 
 and whose scimetar and dagger sparkled 
 with jewels. He was engaged in close 
 council with the rover at his side. “ Lay 
 by business now ; you don’t like the wine, or 
 the toast !” 
 
 The Egyptian, startled from his conference, 
 professed his perfect admiration of both, and 
 sipping, returned to his whisper. 
 
 “ Memnon won’t drink, for fear of letting 
 out his secrets; for instance, where he found 
 that scimetar, or what has become of the 
 owner,” said a young and handsome Idu- 
 mean, with a smile. 
 
 “ I should like to know by what authority 
 you ask me questions on the subject. If it 
 had been in your hands, I should have never 
 thought any necessary,” retorted the scowl- 
 ing Egyptian. 
 
 “ Aye, of course not, Memnon : my way 
 is well known. Fight rather than steal ; 
 plunder rather than cheat; and, after the 
 affair is over, account to captain and crew, 
 rather than glitter in their property,” was 
 the Idumean’s answer, with a glow of indig- 
 nation reddening his striking features. 
 
 “ By the by,” said the Arab, in whose 
 eye the gems flashed temptingly: “I think 
 that Memnon is always under a lucky star. 
 VVe come home in rags, but he regularly re- 
 turns the better for his trip: why, Ptolemy 
 himself has not a more exquisite tailor. All 
 depends, however, upon a man’s knowledge 
 of navigation in this world.” 
 
 “ And friend Memnon knows every point 
 of it, but plain sailing,” said the contempt- 
 uous Idumean. 
 
 The Egyptian’s sallow skin grew livid. 
 “ I may be coward, or liar, or pilferer, or 
 what you will,” exclaimed he; “but, if I 
 were the whole three, I could stand no 
 chance of being distinguished in the present 
 company.” 
 
 “Insult to the whole profession,” exclaim- 
 ed the Arab. “ And now I insist, in the 
 general name, on your giving a plain account 
 of the proceeds of your last cruise. You can 
 be at no loss for it.” 
 
 “No; for he has it by his side, and in the 
 most brilliant arithmetic,” said Hanno, a sa- 
 tirical-visaged son of Carthage. 
 
112 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 “ I must hear no more on the subject;” 
 bitterly pronounced the Egyptian. “ Those 
 diamonds belong to neither captain nor crew. 
 I purchased them fairly ; and the seller was, 
 I will undertake to say, the better off of the 
 two.” 
 
 “Yes; 1 will undertake to say,” laughed 
 the Idumean, “ that you left him the happiest 
 dog in existence. It is care that makes us 
 all miserable ; and the less we have to care 
 for, the luckier we are. I have not a doubt 
 you left the fellow at the summit of earthly 
 rapture !” 
 
 “ Aye !” added the Arab, “ without a sor- 
 row or a shekel in the world.” 
 
 Boisterous mirth followed the Egyptian, as 
 he started from his couch and left the hall; 
 casting fierce looks in his retreat, like Par- 
 thian arrows, on the carousal. 
 
 The German had, in the mean time, fallen 
 back in a doze; from which he was disturbed 
 by the slave’s refilling his goblet. 
 
 “Aye, that tastes like wine,” said he, 
 glancing at the Greek, who had by no means 
 forgotten the controversy. 
 
 “ Taste what it may, it is the very same 
 wine that you railed at half an hour ago,” 
 returned the Chiote: “the truth is, my good 
 Vladornir, that the wine of Greece is like its 
 language ; both are exquisite and unrivalled, 
 to those who understand them. But nature 
 wisely adapts tastes to men, and men to 
 tastes. I am not at all surprised, that north 
 of the Danube they prefer beer.” 
 
 The German had nothing to give back for 
 the taunt, but the frown that gathered on his 
 black brow. 
 
 The Chiote pursued his triumph; and with 
 a lanquid, lover-like gaze on the wine, which 
 sparkled in purple radiance to the brim of its 
 enamelled cup, he apostrophized the produce 
 of his fine country. “ Delicious grape — es- 
 sence of the sunshine and of the dew — what 
 vales but the vales of Chios could have pro- 
 duced thee ! What tint of heaven is brighter 
 than thy hue; what fragrance of earth richer 
 than thy perfume !” 
 
 He lightly sipped a few drops from the 
 edge, like a libation to the deity of taste. 
 
 “ Exquisite draught,” breathed he ; “ un- 
 equalled but by the rosy lip and melting sigh 
 of beauty. Well spoke the proverb — ‘ Chios, 
 whose wines steal every head, and whose 
 women every heart.’ ” 
 
 “You forget the rest,” gladly interrupted 
 the German : — “ And whose men steal every 
 thing.” A general laugh followed the retort, 
 such as it was. 
 
 “ Scythian !” said the Greek, across the 
 table, in a voice made low by rage and pre- 
 paring to strike. 
 
 “ Liar !” roared the German, sweeping a 
 blow of his falchion, which the Chiote escap- 
 
 ed only by flinging himself on the ground. 
 The blow fell on the table, where it caused 
 wide devastation. All now started up, 
 swords were out on every side; and nothing 
 but forcing the antagonists to their cells, 
 prevented the last perils ofi'a' difference of 
 palate. 
 
 The storm bellowed deeper and deeper. 
 
 “ Here’s to the luck that sent us back be- 
 fore this north-wester thought of stirring 
 abroad,” said the Arab: “I wish our noble 
 captain were among us now. Where was 
 he last seen V’ 
 
 “ Steering westward, off and on Rhodes, 
 looking out for the galley that carried the 
 procurator’s plate. But this wind must send 
 him in before morning,” was the answer of 
 Hanno. 
 
 “ Or send him to the bottom, where many 
 as bold a fellow has gone before him,” whis- 
 ' pered a tall, haggard-looking Italian to the 
 answerer. 
 
 “ That would be good news for one of us 
 at least,” said Hanno. “ You would have 
 no reckoning to settle. Your crew made a 
 handsome affair of that Alexandrian prize. 
 And the captain might be looking for returns, 
 friend Tertullus.” 1 
 
 “ Then let him look to himself. His time 
 may be nearer than he thinks. His haughti- 
 ness, and trampling upon men as good as 
 himself, may provoke justice before long,” 
 growled the Italian, indignant at some late 
 discipline. 
 
 “Justice! — is the man mad 1 The very 
 sound is high treason in our gallant company. 
 Why, comrade, if justice ever ventured here, 
 where would some of us have been these last 
 six months 1” 
 
 The sound caught the general ear ; the 
 allusion was understood, and the Italian was 
 displeased. 
 
 “ I hate to be remarkable,” said he : “ with 
 the honest, it may be proper to be honest ; 
 but beside you, my facetious Hanno, a man 
 should cultivate a little of the opposite 
 school, in mere compliment to his friend. 
 You had no scruples when you hanged the 
 merchant the other day.” 
 
 A murmur rose in the hall. 
 
 “Comrades,” said Hanno, with the air of 
 an orator; “hear me too on that subject: 
 three words will settle the question to men 
 of sense. The merchant was a regular 
 trader. Will any man who knows the world, 
 and has brains an atom clearer than those 
 with which Heaven in its mercy has gifted 
 my virtuous friend, believe that I, a regular 
 liver by the merchant, would extinguish 
 that by which I live ? Sensible physicians 
 never kill a patient, while he can pay; 
 sensible kings never exterminate a province, 
 when it can produce any thing in the shape 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 113 
 
 of a tax ; sensible women never pray for the 
 extinction of the male sex, until they despair 
 of getting husbands; sensible husbands never 
 wish their wives out of the \vorld, while 
 they can get any thing by their living ; so, 
 sensible men of our profession will never put 
 a merchant under water, until they can 
 make nothing by his remaining above it. I 
 have, for instance, raised contributions on 
 that same trader every summer these five 
 years ; and, by the blessing of fortune, hope 
 to have the same thing to say for five times 
 as many years to come. No ; I would not 
 see any man touch a hair of his head. In 
 six months he will have a cargo again, and I 
 shall meet him with as much pleasure as 
 ever.” The Carthaginian was highly ap- 
 plauded. 
 
 “ Malek, you don’t drink;” cried the Arab 
 to a gigantic Ethiopian towards the end of 
 the table. “ Here, I pledge you in the very 
 wine that was marked for the Emperor’s 
 cellar.” 
 
 Malek tasted it, and sent back a cup in 
 return. 
 
 “ The Emperor’s wine may be good 
 enough for him,” was the message. “ But 
 this cup contains the wine marked for the 
 Emperc’s butler.” 
 
 The verdict was fully in favor of the 
 Ethiopian. 
 
 “ In all matters of this kind,” said Malek, 
 with an air of supreme taste, “ I look first to 
 the stores of the regular professors — the 
 science of life is in the masters of the kitchen 
 and the cellar. Your Emperors and Procu- 
 rators, of course, must be content with what 
 they can get. But the man who wishes to 
 have the first-rate dinner, should be on good 
 terms with the cook and the butler. I 
 caught this sample on my last voyage after 
 the imperial fleet. Nero never had such wine 
 on bis table.” 
 
 He indulged himself in a long draught of 
 this exclusive luxury; and sank on his 
 couch, with his hand clasping the superbly- 
 embossed flagon, a part of his prize. 
 
 “ The black churl,” said a little shrivelled 
 Syrian, “ never shares : he keeps his wine, 
 as he keeps his money.” 
 
 “ Aye, he keeps every thing but his char- 
 acter,” whispered Hanno. 
 
 “There you wrong him,” observed the 
 Syrian ; “ no man keeps his character more 
 steadily. By Beelzebub ! it is like his skin ; 
 neither will be blacker the longest day he 
 has to live.” 
 
 A roar of laughter rose round the hall. 
 
 “ Black or not black,” exclaimed the 
 Ethiopian, with a sullen grin, that showed 
 bis teeth like the fangs of a wild beast, “ my 
 blood’s as red as yours.” 
 
 “ Possibly,” retorted the little Syrian ; 
 
 '“but, as I must take your word on the sub- 
 j ject till I shall have seen a drop of it spilt in 
 j fair fight, I only hope I may live and be 
 ! happy till then; and I cannot put up abetter 
 prayer for a merry old age.” 
 
 “ There is no chance of your ever seeing 
 it,” growled the Ethiopian ; “ you love the 
 baggage and the hold too well to leave them 
 to accident, be the fight fair or foul.” 
 
 The laugh was easily raised ; and it was 
 turned against the Syrian, who started up, 
 and declaimed with a fury of gesture, that 
 made the ridicule still louder. 
 
 “ I appeal to all,” cried the fiery orator. 
 “ I appeal to every man of honor among us, 
 whether by night or day, on land or water, I 
 have ever been backward 1” 
 
 “ Never at an escape,” interrupted the 
 Ethiopian. 
 
 “ VVhether I have ever broken faith with 
 the band 1” 
 
 j “ Likely enough : where nobody trusts we 
 may defy treason.” 
 
 “ Whether my character and services are 
 not known and valued by our captain 1” still 
 louder exclaimed the irritated Syrian. 
 
 “ Aye, just as little as they deserve.” 
 
 “ Silence, brute,” screamed the diminutive 
 adversary, casting his keen eyes, that doubly 
 blazed with rage, on the Ethiopian, who still 
 lay embracing the flagon at his ease. “ With 
 heroes of your complexion I disdain all con- 
 test. If I must fight, it shall be with human 
 beings, not with savages — with men, not 
 monsters.” 
 
 The Ethiopian’s black cheek absolutely 
 grew red : this taunt was the sting. At one 
 prodigious bound he sprang across the table, 
 and darted upon the Syrian’s throat with the 
 roar and the fury of a tiger. 
 
 All was instant confusion : lamps, flagons, 
 fruits were trampled on ; the table was over- 
 thrown; swords and poinards flashed in all 
 hands. The little Syrian yelled, strangling 
 in the grasp of the black giant ; and it was 
 with the utmost difficulty that he could be 
 | rescued. The Arab, a fine athletic fellow, 
 achieved this object, and bade him run for 
 his life : a command with which he complied 
 unhesitatingly ; followed by a cheer from 
 Hanno, who swore that if all trades failed, 
 he would make his fortune by his heels at 
 the Olympic games. 
 
 Our share of the scene was come. The 
 fugitive, naturally bold enough, but startled 
 , by the savage ferocity of his antagonist, made 
 his way towards our place of refuge. The 
 black got loose, and pursued. I disdained 
 to be dragged forth as a lurking culprit ; and 
 flinging open the door, stood before the 
 crowd. 
 
 The effect was marvellous. The tumult 
 , was hushed at once. Terror seized upon 
 
114 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 their boldest. Our haggard forms, seen by 
 that half intoxication which bewilders the 
 brain before it enfeebles the senses, were 
 completely fitted to startle the superstition 
 that lurks in the bosom of every son of the 
 sea ; and for the moment, they evidently 
 took us for something better or worse than 
 man. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 But the delusion was short lived ; my 
 voice broke the spell ; and perhaps the con- 
 sciousness of their idle alarm increased their 
 rage. “ Spies!” was then their outcry ; and 
 this dreaded sound brought from their beds 
 and tables the whole band. It was in vain 
 that I attempted to speak ; the mob have no 
 ears, whether in cities or caves; and we were 
 dragged forward to undergo our examination. 
 Yet what was to be done in the midst of a 
 host of tongues, all questioning, accusing, 
 and swearing together ? 
 
 Some were ready to take every star of 
 heaven to witness, that we were a pair of 
 Papblagonian pilots, and the identical ones 
 hired to run two of their ships aground, by 
 which the best expedition of the year was 
 undone. Others knew us to have been in 
 the regular pay of the Procurator, and the 
 means of betraying their last captain to the 
 axe. But the majority honored us with the 
 character of simple thieves, who had taken 
 advantage of their absence, and been driven 
 to hide among the baggage. 
 
 The question next rose : “ how we could 
 Bave got in 1” and for the first time the ca- 
 rousers thought of their sentinel. I told 
 them what I had seen. They poured into 
 his chamber, and their suspicions were fixed 
 in inexorable reality — “We had murdered 
 him.” The speediest death for us was now 
 the only consideration. Every man had his 
 proposal ; and never were more curious varie- 
 ties of escape from this evil world offered to 
 two wretches already weary of it; but the 
 Arab’s voice carried the point. “ He disliked 
 seeing men tossed into the fire ; ropes were 
 too useful, and the sword was too honorable 
 to be employed on rogues. But, as by water 
 we came, by water we should go.” The 
 sentence was received with a shout; and 
 amid-t laughter, furious cries, and threats of 
 vengeance, we were dragged to the mouth of 
 the cave. 
 
 The sternest suicide must die in his own 
 way, or lie will shrink. I was wreckless of 
 life ; hut I had not prepared myself for this 
 midnight divorce from the world. The tem- 
 pest was appalling. The- waves burst into 
 the anchorage in huge heaps, dashing sheets' 
 
 of foam up to its roof. The wind volleyed in 
 gusts that took the strongest off their feet ; 
 the galleys were tossed, as if they were so 
 many weeds on the surface of the water. 
 Lamps and torches were useless; and the 
 only light was from the funeral gleam of the 
 billows, and the sheets of sulpliureous fire 
 that fell upon the turbulence of ocean beyond. 
 Even the hearty forms round me were dis- 
 heartened ; and I took advantage of a furious 
 gust that swung us all aside, to struggle 
 from their grasp, and seizing a pike, fought 
 for my life. Jubal seconded me with a bold- 
 ness that no decay could exhaust ; and setting 
 our backs to the rock, we for a while baffled 
 our executioners. But this could not last 
 against such numbers as poured to their as- 
 sistance. Our pikes were broken ; we were 
 hemmed in, and finally dragged again to the 
 mouth of the cavern, that with its foam and 
 the howl of the tumbling billows, looked like 
 the jaws of some huge monster ready for its 
 prey. 
 
 Enfeebled, bruised and overpowered, I was 
 on the point of denying my murderers their 
 last indulgence, and plunging headlong; 
 when a trumpet sounded. The pirates loosed 
 their holds; and in a few minutes a large 
 galley with all her oars broken and every 
 sail torn to fragments, shot by the mouth of 
 the cavern. A joyous cry of “ The captain ! 
 the captain !” echoed through the vaults. 
 The galley, disabled by the storm, tacked 
 several times before she could make the 
 entrance; but at length, by a masterly man- 
 oeuvre, she was brought round, and darted 
 right in on the top of a mountainous billow. 
 Before the galley touched the ground, the 
 captain had leaped into the arms of the band, 
 who received him with shouts. His quick eye 
 fell upon us at once, and he demanded fierce- 
 ly, “ what we were!” “ Spies and thieves,” 
 was the general reply. “ Spies !” he re- 
 peated ; looking contemptuously on our habi- 
 liments. “ Impossible. — Thieves very likely, 
 and very beggarly ones. — Yet do you think 
 that such wretches would dare to come, of 
 themselves, within our claws'!” 
 
 I denied both imputations alike. He seem- 
 ed struck with my words, and said to the 
 crowd, “ folly ! Take them away, if it does 
 not require too much courage to touch them ; 
 and let them be washed and fed for the honor 
 of hospitality and their own faces. The two 
 poor devils have doubtless been driven in by 
 the rough night; and it is rough enough to 
 make a man wish to be any where but 
 abroad. Here, change my clothes, and order 
 supper.” 
 
 “ We cannot be too cautious. They may 
 still be spies,” said the Egyptian, who had 
 just arrived from his slumbers. 
 
 I attempted to explain how we came. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 115 
 
 “ Of course — of course,” said the captain, 
 pulling off his dripping garments, and fling- 
 ing his cloak to one, his cuirass to another, 
 and his cap to a third. “ Your rags would 
 vouch for you in any port on earth. Or, if 
 you carry on the trade of treachery, you are 
 very ill paid. Why, Memnon, look at these 
 fellows ; would you give a shekel for their 
 souls and bodies'? Not a mite. When I 
 look for spies, I expect to find them among 
 the prosperous. The rogues who deal in 
 secret intelligence take too good care of them- 
 selves. Embroidered cloaks, and jewel-hilted 
 scimetars are a safer sign than naked skins 
 at any time. However, if you turn out to be 
 spies, eat, drink, and sleep your best to-night, 
 for you shall be hanged to-morrow.” 
 
 He hurried onwards, and we followed, 
 still in durance. The banquet was rein- 
 stated ; and the principal personages of the 
 band gathered round to hear the adventures 
 of the voyage. 
 
 “All has been ill luck,” said he, tossing 
 off a bumper. “ The old procurator’s spirit 
 was, I think, abroad ; either to take care of 
 his plate, or to torment mankind, according 
 to his custom. We were within a boat’s 
 length of the prize, when the wind came right 
 in our teeth. Every thing that could, ran 
 for the harbor; some went on the rocks — 
 some straight to the bottom ; and that we 
 might not follow their example, I put the 
 good ship before' the wind, and never was 
 better pleased than to find myself at home. 
 Thus, you see, comrades, that my history is 
 brief; but then it has an advantage that his- 
 tory sometimes denies itself — every syllable 
 of it is true.” 
 
 As the light of the lamps fell on him, it 
 struck me that his face was familiar to my 
 recollection. He was young, but the habits 
 of his life had given him a premature | 
 manhood ; his eye flashed and sparkled 
 with Greek brilliancy, but his cheek, 
 after the first flush of the banquet, was pale ; 
 and the thinness of a physiognomy, natu- 
 rally masculine and noble, showed that 
 either care or hardship had lain heavily upon 
 his days. 
 
 He had scarcely sat down to the table, 
 when his glance turning where we stood 
 guarded, he ordered us to be brought before 
 him. 
 
 “ I think,” said he, “ you came here but a 
 day or two ago. Did you find no difficulty 
 with our sentinels?” 
 
 “ Ha !” exclaimed the Arab, “ how could 
 I have forgotten that ? I left Titus, or by 
 i whatever of his hundred names he chose to 
 be called, on guard, at his own request, the 
 day 1 steered for the Nile. He was sick, or 
 pretended to be so; and, as I gave myself but 
 a couple of days for the voyage, I expected 1 1 
 
 j to be back in time to save him from the hor- 
 rors of his own company. But the wind said 
 otherwise — the two days were ten; and on 
 my return, we found the wretched fellow a 
 corpse, — whether from being taken ill, and 
 unable to help himself, or from the assist- 
 ance of those worthy persons here, whom we 
 discovered in attendance.” 
 
 “ On that subject I have no doubt what- 
 ever,” interposed the Egyptian : “ those vil- 
 lains murdered him.” 
 
 “ It is possible,” mused the captain. “ But 
 I cannot foresee what they are to get by it. 
 A question that you at least will acknow- 
 ledge to be of considerable importance,” said 
 he, with a careless smile at the Egyptian, 
 whose avarice was proverbial. 
 
 The object of the satire was stung; and to 
 get rid of the dangerous topic, he affected 
 wrath, and said impetuously, “Let it be so; 
 let our blood go for nothing. Let treachery 
 thrive. Let our throats be at the mercy of 
 every wandering ruffian ; and let us have the 
 consolation that our labors and our sacrifices 
 will be horfored with a sneer.” He turned 
 [to the crowd waiting round us. “Brave 
 (comrades!” exclaimed he, “ henceforth un- 
 | derstand that you are at every dagger’s 
 mercy? that, if you are left behind, you may 
 jbe assassinated with impunity: as, if you are 
 taken out upon our foolish expeditions, your 
 lives may be flung away upon the whims and 
 follies of would-be heroes.” 
 
 The crowd, fickle, and inflamed by wine, 
 gave a huzza for the “sailor’s friend.” The 
 Egyptian encouraged, and having a long load 
 of gall upon his memory, made the desperate 
 venture of at once disowning the authority 
 of the captain, and ordering in his own name 
 that we should be delivered over to execu- 
 tion. 
 
 The captain listened, without a word ; but 
 his hand was on his scimetar, and his cheek 
 burned, as he fixed his eyes on the livid accu- 
 ser. The crowd pressed closer upon us ; and 
 I saw the dagger pointed at my breast — when 
 I recollected the letter ; I gave it to the cap- 
 tain, who read it in silence; and then with 
 the utmost composure, desired it to be handed 
 over to the Egyptian. 
 
 “ Comrades,” said he, “ T have to apologize 
 for a breach of the confidence that should 
 always subsist between men of honor. I 
 have here accidentally read a letter which 
 the cipher shows to have been intended for 
 our trusty friend Memnon ; but, since the 
 subject is no longer confined to himself, he 
 will doubtless feel no objection to indulging 
 us all with the correspondence.” 
 
 The band thronged round the table ; ex- 
 pectation sat on every face ; and its various 
 expression in the crowded circle of those 
 strong physiognomies-— the keen, the wander* 
 
116 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 ing, the angry, the contemptuous, the con- 
 vinced, the triumphant — would have made 
 an incomparable study for a painter. The 
 Egyptian took the letter with a trembling 
 hand, and read the fatal words. 
 
 “The fleet will be off the northern pro- 
 montory by midnight. You will light a sig- 
 nal, and be ready to conduct the troops into 
 the cavern.” 
 
 The reader let the fatal despatch fall from 
 his hand. An outcry of wrath rose on all 
 sides; and the traitor was on the point of 
 being sacrificed, when the young Idumean 
 generously started forward. 
 
 “ It is known, I believe, to every man here,” 
 said he, “ that I dislike and distrust Memnon 
 as much as any being on earth. I know him 
 to be base and cruel, and therefore hated him. 
 1 have long suspected him of being connected 
 with transactions, that nothing but the mad- 
 ness of avarice could venture upon, and noth- 
 ing but death atone. But he must not perish 
 without a trial. Till inquiry is made, the man 
 who strikes him must strike through me.” He 
 placed himself before the culprit; who now 
 taking courage, long and dexterously in- 
 sisted that the letter was a forgery, invent- 
 ed by “assassins and those who employed 
 assassins.” 
 
 The tide of popular wisdom is easily turn- 
 ed ; opinion was now raging against me, and 
 the Egyptian stood a fair chance of seeing his 
 reputation cleaved in my blood. 
 
 “Come,” said the captain, rising; “as we 
 are not likely to gain much information from 
 the living, let us see whether the dead can 
 give us any : lead on, prisoners.” 
 
 I led the way to the recess. The dead 
 man lay untouched ; but, in the interval, the 
 features had returned, as is often the case in 
 death, to the expression of former years. I 
 uttered an exclamation ; he was the domestic 
 that had betrayed me to the Procurator. 
 
 “ Conscience !” cried the Egyptian. 
 
 “ Conscience !” echoed the crowd. 
 
 The captain turned to me. “ Did either 
 you or your companion commit this murder? 
 I will have no long stories. They will not 
 go down with tne. The fellow was a villain ; 
 and if he had lived till my return, he should 
 have fed the crows within the next twelve 
 hours. One word — yes or no.” 
 
 I answered firmly. 
 
 “ I believe you,” said the captain. He 
 took the hand of the corpse, and called to the 
 Egyptian. “Take this hand, arid swear that 
 you know nothing of this treason. But, ah ! 
 what have we here'!” As he lifted the arm, 
 the sleeve of the tunic gave way, and a slip 
 of papyrus fell on the bed. He caug'ht it up, 
 and exclaiming, “ What ! to night? perni- 
 cious villain ;” — turned to the astonished 
 band. 
 
 “Comrades, there is the blackest treachery 
 among us. We are sold — sold by that 
 accursed Egyptian. Strip the slave, and fling 
 him into the dungeon until I return ; no — he 
 shall come with us, in chains. Call up the 
 bands. Every galley must be put to sea in- 
 stantly, if we would not be burned in our 
 beds.” 
 
 The trumpets sounded through the cavern; 
 and rapid preparations were made for obey- 
 ing this unexpected command. The fires 
 blazed again; arms and armor rang; men 
 were mustered ; and the galleys swung out 
 from their moorings in the midst of tumult 
 and volleys of execrations against the treach- 
 ery, that “ could not wait for daylight and 
 fair weather.” 
 
 “And now,” said the captain, “ while our 
 lads are getting ready, I think that it is time 
 for me to sup. Sit down and let us hear over 
 our wine what story the prisoners have to 
 tell.” 
 
 I briefly stated our escape from the dun- 
 geon. 
 
 “ It may be a lie ; yet the thing hangs not 
 badly together. Your wardrobe speaks pro- 
 digiously in favor of your veracity. Ho ! 
 Ben Ali, see that the avenue into the ware- 
 house is stopped up. We must have no 
 visits from the garrison of the tower. And 
 now, hear tny story of the night -As I was 
 lying off and on, waiting to catcli that cursed 
 galley, a correspondent on shore let me partly 
 into the secret of that Egyptian dog’s deal- 
 ings. Rich as the knave was, — and how he 
 came by his money, Tartarus only knows, — 
 Roman gold had charms for him still. In 
 fact, he had been carrying on a very hand- 
 some trade in information during the last six 
 months; which may best account for the es- 
 cape of the two fleets from Byzantium, and 
 not less for the present, safety of the procura- 
 tor’s plate ; which, however, I hope, by the 
 blessing of Neptune, to see, before another 
 week, shining upon this table. Your dis- 
 covery was of infinite use. That an attack 
 upon us was intended, I was aware; but the 
 how and when were the difficulty. The 
 time of the attack was announced in the 
 papyrus ; and but for the storm, we should 
 probably be now doing other things than sup- 
 ping.” 
 
 “The sea is going down already, and the 
 wind has changed,” said the Arab. “We 
 can haul off the shore without loss of time.” 
 
 “ Then, the sooner the better. We must 
 seal up the Romans in their port; or if they 
 venture out on such a night, give them sound 
 reason for wishing that they had stayed at 
 home. Their galleys, if good for nothing 
 else, will do to burn.” 
 
 This bold determination was received with 
 a general cheer : the leaders rose, and drank 
 
 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 117 
 
 to the glory of their expedition; and all 
 rushed towards the galleys, which, crowd- 
 ed with men, lay tossing at the edge of the 
 arch. 
 
 I followed and demanded what was to be 
 our fate. “ Here we will not stay : put us 
 to death at once, rather than leave us to per- 
 ish here.” 
 
 “ Well, then, what will you have!” 
 
 “Any thing but this desperate abandon- 
 ment. Let us take the chances of your voy- 
 age, and be set on shore at the first place you 
 touch.” 
 
 “ And sell our secret to the best bidder ! 
 No. But I have no time to make terms with 
 you now. One word for all : ragged as you 
 both are, you are strong; and your faces 
 would do no great discredit to our profession. 
 You probably think this no very striking 
 compliment,” said he laughing. “ However, 
 I have taken a whim to have you with us, 
 and offer you promotion. Will you take 
 service with the noble company of the Free- 
 trade !” 
 
 Jubal was rashly indignant; I checked 
 him, and merely answered, that I had pur- 
 poses of extreme exigency which prevented 
 my excepting his offer. 
 
 “ Ha ! morality,” exclaimed he ; “ you will 
 not be seen with rogues like us 1” He laugh- 
 ed aloud. “ Why, man, if you will not live, 
 eat, drink, travel, and die, with rogues, where 
 upon earth can you expect to live or die"! the 
 difference between us and the world is, that 
 we do the thing without the additional vice 
 of hypocrisy.” 
 
 The leaders who waited round us, felt for 
 the honor of their calling ; and, but for the 
 awe of the captain, we stood but a slight 
 chance of living even to hear the question 
 settled. 
 
 “ A pike might let a little light into their 
 understandings,” said one. 
 
 “ If they would not follow on the deck, 
 they should swim at the stern,” said ano- 
 ther. 
 
 “The hermits should be sent back to 
 their dungeon to study philosophy,” said a 
 third. 
 
 The boat was run up on the sand. “ Get 
 in,” said the captain. “ I have taken it into 
 my head to convince you by fact, of the honor, 
 dignity, and primitiveness of our profession : 
 which is, in the first place, the oldest; for it 
 was the orignal employment of human hands. 
 In the next place, the most universal ; for 
 it is the principal of all trades, pursuits 
 and professions, from the emperor on his 
 throne, down through the doctor, the lawyer, 
 and the merchant, to the very sediment of 
 society.” 
 
 A loud “ bravo” echoed through the cav- 
 
 ern. 
 
 “Are you not convinced yeti” said the 
 captain. “ The Free-trade is the very es- 
 sence of the virtues ; all the teachers of 
 your philosophy are dumb to it. For exam- 
 ple ; I meet a merchantman loaded with 
 goods — for what is the cargo meant ! To 
 purchase slaves ; to tear fathers from their 
 families — husbands from their wives; to burn 
 villages; and bribe savages to murder each 
 other. I strip the hold ; the slave market 
 is at an end : and no one suffers, but a 
 fellow who ought to have been hanged long 
 ago.” 
 
 The captain’s doctrine w'as more popular 
 than ever. 
 
 “ I meet a rich old rogue,” continued he, 
 “ on his voyage between the islands. What 
 is he going to do! To marry some pretty 
 creature, who has a young lover, perhaps a 
 dozen. The marriage would break her 
 heart ; and raise a little rebellion in the isl- 
 and. We capture the old Cupid, strip him 
 of his coin, and he is a Cupid no more, fa- 
 thers and mothers abhor him at once; the 
 young lover has his bride ; and the old one 
 his lesson. The one gets his love, and the 
 other his experience; and both have to thank 
 the gallant crew of the Scorpion ; which 
 Heaven long keep above water.” 
 
 A joyous huzza, and the waving of caps 
 and swords, hailed the captain’s display. 
 “ The Free-trade forever,” was shouted in all 
 directions. 
 
 “ I see, comrades,” said the captain, “ that 
 though truth is persuasive, your huzza is not 
 for me, but for fact. We find a young rake 
 ranging the world with more money than 
 brains, sowing sedition among the fair rivals 
 for the honor of sharing his purse ; running 
 away with daughters; gambling greater fools 
 than himself out of their fortunes; in short, 
 playing the profligate in all shapes. He drops 
 into our hands ; and we strip him to the 
 last penny. What is the consequence ! we 
 make him virtuous on the spot. The profli- 
 gate becomes a model of penitence ; the root 
 of all his ills has been unearthed; the prodi- 
 gal is saving ; the bacchanal temperate ; the 
 seducer lives in the innocence of a babe; the 
 gambler never touches a die. We have 
 broken the main-spring of his vices — money ; 
 disarmed the soft deceiver of his spell — 
 money ; checked the infection of the gam- 
 bler’s example, by cutting off the source of 
 the disease — money ; or, if nothing can teach 
 him common sense, our dungeon will at least 
 keep him out of harm’s way. 
 
 “ And now, my heroes of salt-water, noble 
 brothers of the Nereids, sons of the star-light, 
 here I make libation to our next merry meet- 
 ing.” He poured a part of his cup into the 
 wave, and drank to the general health, with 
 the remainder. 
 
118 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 “ Happiness to all ; let our work to-night 
 be what it will, I know, my lads, that it will 
 be handsomely done. The enemy may call 
 us names; but you will answer them by 
 solid proofs, that whatever we may be, we 
 are neither slaves nor dastards. If I catch 
 the insolent commander of the Roman fleet, 
 I will teach him a lesson in morals that he 
 never knew before. He shall flog, fleece, 
 and torture no more. I will turn the hard- 
 heartuu tyrant into tenderness from top to 
 toe. 11 is treatment of the crew of the Hy- 
 aena was infamous ; and by Jupiter, what 1 
 owe him shall be discharged in full. Now, 
 on board, my heroes, and may Neptune take 
 care of you.” 
 
 The trumpets flourished ; the people cheer- 
 ed; the boats pushed off; the galleys hoisted 
 every sail ; and in a moment we found our- 
 selves rushing through the water, under the 
 wildest canopy of heaven. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 We stretched out far to sea, for the dou- 
 ble purpose of falling by surprise upon the 
 Roman squadron, and avoiding the shoals. 
 The wind lulled at intervals so much, that 
 we had recourse to our oars; it would then 
 burst down with a violence, that all but hurl- 
 ed us out of the water. I now saw more of 
 the captain, and was w'itnessof the extraordi- 
 nary energy, activity, and skill of this singu- 
 lar young man. Never was there a more ex- 
 pert seaman. For every change of sea or 
 wind, he had a new expedient: and when 
 the hearts of the stoutest sank, he took the 
 helm into his hands, and carried us through 
 the chaos of waters, foam, whirlwind, and 
 lightning, with the vigor and daring of one 
 born to sport with the storm. 
 
 As 1 was gazing over the vessel’s side, on 
 the phosphoric gleams that danced along the 
 ridge of the billows, he came up to me. 
 
 “I am sorry,” said he “that we have been 
 compelled to give you so rough a specimen 
 of our hospitality; and this is not altogether 
 a summer sea; but you saw how the matter 
 stood. The enemy would have been upon 
 us; and the whole advantage of our staying 
 at home, would be, to have our throats cut 
 in company.” 
 
 Odd and rambling as his style was, there 
 was something in his manner and voice that 
 had struck me before, even in the boisterous- 
 ness of the convivial crowd. But now, in the 
 solitary ocean, there was a melancholy sweet- 
 ness in his tones, that made me start with 
 sad recollection. Yet, when by the lightning 
 
 I attempted to discover in his features any 
 clue to memory, and saw but the tall figure 
 wrapped in the sailor’s cloak, the hair stream- 
 ing over his face in the spray, and every line 
 of his powerful physiognomy at its full stretch 
 in the agitation of the time, the thought van- 
 ished again. 
 
 “ I hinted,” said he, after an interval of 
 silence, “at your taking chance with us. If 
 you will, you may. But the hint was 
 thrown out merely Jo draw off the fellows 
 about me ; and you are at full liberty to for- 
 get it.” 
 
 “ It is impossible to join you,” was my an- 
 swer ; “ my life is due to my country.” 
 
 “ Oh ! for that matter, so is mine ; and due 
 a long time ago : my only wonder is, how I 
 have evaded, payment till now. But I am a 
 man of few words. I have taken a sort of 
 liking to you, and would wish to have a few 
 such at hand. The world calls me villain, 
 and the majority of course carries the ques- 
 tion. For its opinion, I do not care a cup of 
 water: a bubble of this foam would weigh as 
 heavy with me, as the rambling, giddy, vul- 
 gar judgment of a world in which the first 
 of talents is scoundrelism. I never knew a 
 man fail, who brought to market prostitution 
 of mind enough to make him a tool ; vice 
 enough to despise every thing but gain ; and 
 cunning enough to keep himself out of the 
 hands of the magistrate, till opulence enabled 
 him to corrupt the law, or authority to defy 
 it. But let this pass. The point between 
 jus is, will you take service!” 
 j “No! — I feel the strongest gratitude for 
 
 the manliness and generosity of your pro- 
 tection. You saved our lives ; and our only 
 hope of revisiting Judea in freedom is 
 through you. But, young man, I have a 
 great cause in hand. I have risked every 
 thing for it. Family, wealth, rank, life, are 
 at stake; and I look upon every hour given 
 to other things as so far a fraud upon my 
 country.” 
 
 I heard him sigh. There was silence on 
 both sides for a while, and he paced the 
 deck; then suddenly returning, laid his 
 hand on my shoulder. “I am convinced of 
 your honor,” said he, “and far be it from me 
 to betray a man, who has indeed a purpose 
 worthy of manhood, into our broken and un- 
 happy — aye, let the word come out, infa- 
 mous career. But you tell me that I 
 have been of some use to you ; I now de- 
 mand the return. You have refused to 
 take service with me. Let me take ser- 
 vice with you.” 
 
 I stared at him. He smiled sadly, and said, 
 “ You will not associate with one stained like 
 me. Aye ; for the robber there is no repen- 
 tance. Yet why shall the world,” and his voice 
 was full of anguish, “ why shall the ungener- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 ous and misjudging world be suffered to 
 expel and keep for ever at a distance those 
 whom it has first betrayed 1” His emotion 
 got the better of him and his voice sank. He 
 again approached me. “I am weary of this 
 kind of life. Not that I have reason to com- 
 plain of the men about me ; nor that I dislike 
 the roaming and chances of the sea ; but, that 
 I feel a desire to be something better — to re- 
 deem myself out of the number of the dis- 
 honored ; to do something which, whether I 
 live or die, will satisfy me that I was not 
 meant to be — the outcast that I am.” 
 
 “Then join us if you will,” said I. Our 
 cause demands the bold ; and the noblest spirit 
 that ever dwelt in man, would find its finest 
 field in the deliverance of our land of holiness 
 and glory. But, can you leave all that you 
 have round you here 1” 
 
 “ Not without a struggle. I have an infi- 
 nite delight in this wild kind of existence. T 
 love the strong excitement of hazard ; I love 
 the perpetual bustle of our career; I love even 
 the capriciousness of wind and wave. I havp 
 wealth in return for its perils; and no man 
 knows what enjoyment is, but he who knows it 
 through the fatigue of a sailor’s life. All the 
 banquets of epicurism are not half so delicious, 
 as even the simplest meal, to his hunger; nor 
 the softest bed of luxury, half so refreshing 
 as the bare deck to his weariness. But I must 
 break up those habits; and, whether beggar 
 and slave, or soldier and obtaining the distinc- 
 tion of a soldier’s success, I am determined 
 on trying my chance among mankind.” 
 
 A sheet of lightning covered the whole 
 horizon with blue flame; and a huge ball of 
 fire springing from the cloud, after a long 
 flight over the waters, split upon the shore. 
 
 The keenness of the sailor’s eye saw what 
 had escaped mine. “This was a lucky sea- 
 light for us,” said he. “ The Romans are lying 
 under yonder promontory ; driven to take shel- 
 ter by the gale, of course : — but for that fire- 
 ball, they would have escaped me.” 
 
 All hands were summoned upon deck; sig- 
 nals made to the other galleys ; the little fleet 
 brought into close order; pikes, torches, and 
 combu-tibles of all kinds gathered upon the 
 poop; the sails furled ; and with muffled oars 
 we gl dpd down upon the enemy. 
 
 The Roman squadron, with that precaution 
 which was the essential principle of their 
 matchless discipline, were drawn up in order 
 of battle, though they could have had no ex- 
 pectation of being attacked on such a night. 
 But the roar of the wind buried every other 
 sound, and we stole round the promontory un- 
 heard. 
 
 The short period of this silent navigation 
 was one of the keenest anxiety. All but 
 those necessary for the working of the vessel 
 were lying on their faces; we feared lest the 
 
 very drawing of our breath might give the 
 alarm ; not a limb was moved, and, like a gal- 
 ley of the dead, we floated on, filled with de- 
 struction. We were yet at some distance 
 from the twinkling lights that showed the 
 prefect’s trireme ; when, on glancing round, I 
 perceived a dark obj* ct on the water, and 
 pointed it out to the captain. He looked, but 
 looked in vain. 
 
 “ Some irking spy,” said he, “ that was 
 born to pay for his knowledge.” With a sail- 
 or’s promptitude, he caught up a lamp, and 
 swung it overboard. It fell beside the object, 
 a small boat as black as the waves them- 
 selves. 
 
 “ Now for the sentinel,” were his words, 
 as he plunged into the sea. The act was 
 rapid as thought. I heard a struggle, a groan, 
 and the boat floated empty beside me on the 
 next billow. 
 
 But there was no time for search. We 
 were within an oar’s length of the anchorage. 
 To communicate the loss of their captain, 
 (and what could human struggle do among 
 the mountain waves of that seal) might be 
 to dispirit the crew, and ruin the enterprize. 
 I took the command upon myself, and gave 
 the word to fall on. 
 
 A storm of fire, as strange to the enemy as 
 if it had risen from the bottom of the sea, was 
 instantly poured on the advanced ships. The 
 surprise w’as total. The crews, exhausted by 
 the night, were chiefly asleep. The troops 
 jon board were helpless, on decks covered with 
 ] the spray, and among shrouds and sails falling 
 idown in burning fragments on their heads. — 
 Our shouts gave them the idea of being at- 
 tacked by overwhelming numbers; and after a 
 (short dispute, we cleared the whole outer line 
 of every sailor and soldier. The whole was 
 soon a pile of flame, a sea volcano, that lighted 
 skv, sea, and shore. 
 
 Yet only half our work was done. The 
 enemy were now fully awake, and no man 
 could despise Roman preparation. I ordered 
 a fire-gallev to be run in between the leading 
 ship-; but she was caught halfway by a chain, 
 and turned round, scattering flame among 
 'ourselves. The boats were then lowered, 
 and our most desperate fellows sent to cut 
 out, or board. But the crowded decks drove 
 them back, and the Roman pike was an over- 
 match for our short falchions. For a while 
 we were forced to content ourselves with the 
 distant exchange of lances and arrows. The 
 affair became critical ; the enemy were still 
 three times our force; they were unmoor- 
 ing ; and our only chance of destroying 
 them was at anchor. I called the crew for- 
 ward, and proposed that we should run the 
 galley close on the prefect’s’ ship, set them 
 both on fire, and in the confusion, carry the 
 remaining vessels. But sailors, if bold, are 
 
Salat hie L 
 
 as capricious as their element. Our partial re- 
 pulse had already disheartened them. I was 
 met by murmurs and clamors for the captain. 
 The clamors rose into open charges that I had, 
 to get the command, thrown him overboard. 
 
 I was alone. Juba!, worn out with fatigue 
 and illness, was lying at my feet, more re- 
 quiring defence than able to afford it. The 
 crowd were growing furious against the 
 stranger. I felt that all depended on the 
 moment, and leaped from the poop into the 
 midst of the mutineers. 
 
 “ Fools,” I exclaimed, “ what could I get by 
 making away with your captain! I have no 
 wish for your command. I have no want of 
 your help. I disdain you: — bold as lions, 
 over the table ; tame as sheep, on the deck ; I 
 leave you to be butchered by the Romans. — 
 Let the brave follow me, if such there be 
 among you.” 
 
 A shallop, that had returned with the de- 
 feated boarders, lay by the galley’s side. T 
 seized a torch. Fiight or ten, roused by my 
 taunts, followed me into the boat. We pulled 
 right for the Roman centre. Every man had 
 a torch in one hand, and an oar in the other. 
 We shot along the waters, a flying mass of 
 flame ; and while both fleets were gazing on 
 us in astonishment, rushed under the poop of 
 the commander’s trireme. The fire soon 
 rolled up her tarry sides, and ran along the 
 cordage. But the defence was desperate, and 
 lances rained upon us. Half of us were dis- 
 abled in the first discharge; the shallop was 
 battered with huge stones ; and I felt that 
 she was sinking. 
 
 “One trial more, brave comrades, one glo- 
 rious attempt more ! The boat must go down ; 
 ana unless we would go along with it, we 
 must board.” 
 
 I leaped forward, and clung to the chains. 
 My example was followed. The boat went 
 down; and this sight, which was just discov-j 
 erable by the vivid flame of the vessel, raised 
 a roar of triumph among the enemy. But to 
 climb up the tall sides of the trireme was be- 
 yond our skill, and we remained dashed by 
 the heavy waves as she rose and fell. Our 
 only alternatives now were, to be piked, 
 drowned, or burned. The flame was rapidly 
 advancing. Showers of sparkles fell upon 
 our heads ; the clamps and iron work were 
 growing hot to the touch; the smoke was roll- 
 ing over us in suffocating volumes. I was 
 giving up all for lost; when a mountainous 
 billow swept the vessel, stern round, and I 
 saw a blaze burst out from the shore. The 
 Roman tents were on flame! 
 
 Consternation seized the crews thus at- 
 tacked on all sides, and uncertain of the num- 
 ber of the assailants' they began to desert the 
 ships, and, by boats or swimming, make for 
 various parts of the land. The sight reani- 
 
 mated me. I climbed up the side of the tri- 
 reme, torch in hand, and with my haggard 
 countenance, made still wilder by the wild 
 work of the night, looked a formidable appa- 
 rition to men already harassed out of all cou- 
 rage. They plunged overboard, and I was 
 monarch of the finest war galley on the coast 
 of Syria. 
 
 But my kingdom was without subjects. — 
 None of my own crew had followed me. I 
 saw the pirate vessels bearing down to com- 
 plete the destruction of the fleet; and hailed 
 them, but they all swept far wide of the tri- 
 reme. The fire had taken too fast hold of 
 her to make approach safe. I now began to 
 feel my situation. The first triumph was 
 past, and I found myself deserted. The deed 
 of devastation was in the mean while rapidly 
 going on. I saw the Roman ships successively 
 boarded, almost without resistance, and in a 
 blaze. The conflagration rose in sheets and 
 spires to the heavens, and colored the waters 
 to an immeasurable extent with the deepest 
 dye of gore. 
 
 I heard the victorious shouts, and mine rose 
 spontaneously along with them. In every 
 vessel burned, in every torch flung, I rejoiced 
 in a new blow to the tyrants of Judea. But 
 my thoughts were soon fear ully brought home. 
 The fire reached the cables; the trireme, 
 plungingand tossing like a living creature in 
 its last agony, burst away from her anchors: 
 the wind was off the shore ; a gust, strong as 
 the blow of a battering-ram, struck her; and 
 on the back of a huge refluent wave, she shot 
 out to sea, a flying pyramid of fire. 
 
 Never was a man more indifferent to the 
 result than the solitary voyager of the burn- 
 ing trireme. What had life forme! Ilooked 
 at pain with instinctive dread ; but the waves 
 offered a ready refuge from the more hideous 
 suffering, and a single plunge in the whirling 
 foam at my side would be the complete and 
 instant cure of all the pangs that besiege the 
 flesh. I gazed round me. The element of 
 fire reigned supreme. The shore — mountain, 
 vale, and sand — was bright as day, from the 
 blaze of the tents, and floating fragments of 
 the galleys. The heavens were an arch of 
 angry splendor — every stooping cloud that 
 swept along, reddened with the various dies of 
 the conflagration below. The sea was a rolling 
 abyss of the fiercest color of slaughter. The 
 blazing vessels, loosened from the shore, 
 rushed madly before the storm, sheet and 
 shroud shaking loose abroad, like vast wings 
 of flame. 
 
 At length all disappeared ; the shore faded 1 
 far into a dim line of light; the galleys sank 
 or were consumed ; the sea grew dark again; 
 j the lightnings were the only blaze of heaven. 
 But the trireme, strongly built, and of im- 
 mense size, still fed the flame, and still shot 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 on through the tempest, that fell on her more j 
 furiously as she lust the cover of the land. — 
 The waves rose to a height that often baffled 
 the wind, and left me floating in a strange 
 calm between two black walls of water, reach- 
 ing to the clouds, and on whose smooth sides 
 the image of the burning vessel was reflected 
 as strongly as in a mirror. But the ascent to j 
 the summit of those fearful barriers again let 
 in the storm in its rage ; the tops of the bil- 
 lows were whirled off in sheets of foam ; the 
 wind tore mast and sail away ; and the vessel 
 was dashed forward like a stone discharged 
 from an engine. I stood on the poop, which 
 the spray and the wind kept clear of flame, 
 and contemplated, with some feeling of the 
 fierce grandeur of the spectacle, the fire roll- 
 ing over the forward part of the vessel in a 
 thousand shapes and folds. 
 
 While I was thus careering along, like the 
 genius of fire upon his throne, I caught a 
 glimpse of sails scattering in every direction 
 before me — 1 had rushed into the middle of one 
 of those small trading fleets that coasted an- 
 nually between the Euxine and the Nile. — 
 They flew as if pursued by a fiend. But the 
 i same wind that bore them, bore me; and their 
 screams, as the trireme bounded from billow 
 to billow on their track, were audible even 
 through the roarings of the storm. 
 
 They gradually succeeded in spreading 
 themselves so far, that the contact with the 
 flame must be partial. But, on one, the 
 largest and most crowded, the trireme bore 
 inevitably down. The hunted ship tried ev- 
 ery mode of escape in vain; it manoeuvred with 
 extraordinary skill : but the pursuer, lightened 
 of every burden, rushed on like a messenger 
 of vengeance. 
 
 I could distinctly see the confusion and mis- 
 ery of the crowd that covered the deck ; men 
 and women kneeling, weeping, dying ; or in 
 the fierce riot of despair, struggling for some 
 wretched spoil, or equally wretched indul-i 
 gence, thata few moments more must tear from 
 all alike. But among the fearful minglingof 
 sou nds, one voice I heard that struck to my soul. I 
 It alone roused me from my stern scorn of hu- 1 
 man suffering. I no longer looked upon those 
 beings as upon insects that must be crushed 
 in the revolution of the great wheel of fate. 
 The heart, the living human heart, palpita ted 
 ii within me. I rushed to the side of the tri- 
 e. reme, and with voice and hand made signals 
 ii to the crew to take me on board. 
 
 Butat my call a cry of agony echoed through 
 the vessel. All fled to its farther part, but a 
 si few, who, unable to move, were seen dropton 
 ill their knees, and in the attitudes of preternat- 
 n ural fear, imploring every power of heaven. 
 
 >a Shocked by the consciousness that, even in 
 u l the hour when mutual hazard softens the heart 
 jc of man, I was an object of horror, I shrank 
 
 back. I heard the voice once more ; and 
 once more resolved to make an effort for life ; 
 flung a burning fragment over the side, to 
 help me through the waves. 
 
 But the time was past. The fragment had 
 scarcely touched the foam, when a sheet of 
 lightning wrapped sea and sky; the flying ves- 
 sel was gone. My eye looked but upon the wil- 
 dernessof waters. The flash was fatal to both. 
 It had struck the hold of the trireme, in which 
 was stowed a large freightage of the bitumen 
 and nitre of the desert. A column of flame, 
 white as silver, rose straight and steadily up 
 to the clouds; and the huge ship, disparting 
 timber by timber, reeled, heaved, and plunged 
 headlong into the bosurn of the ocean. 
 
 1 rose to the surface from a prodigious depth. 
 I was nearly breathless. My limbs were 
 wasted with famine and fatigue ; but the tos- 
 sing of the surges sustained and swept me on. 
 The chill at last benumbed me, and my limbs 
 were heavy as iron ; when a broken mast roll- 
 ing by, entangled me in its cordage. It drove 
 towards a point of land round which the cur- 
 rent swept. Strongly netted in the wreck, I 
 was dragged along, sometimes above the wa- 
 ter, sometimes below. But a violent shock 
 released me, and, with a new terror of the 
 death that I had so long resisted, I felt myself 
 go down. I was engulphed in the whirlpool ! 
 
 Every sensation was horridly vivid. I had 
 the full consciousness of life, and of the un- 
 fathomable depth into which I was descend- 
 ing. I heard the roar and rushing of the wa- 
 ters round me ; the holding of my breath was 
 torture ; I strained, struggled, tossed out my 
 arms, grasped madly around, as if to catch 
 something that might retard my hideous de- 
 scent. My eyes were open. I never was 
 less stunned by shock or fear. The solid 
 darkness, the suffocation, the furious whirl of 
 the eddy that spun me round its huge circle 
 like an atom of sand, every sense of drown- 
 ing, passed through my shattered frame with 
 an individual and successive pang. 
 
 I at last touched something, whether living 
 or dead, fish or stone, I know not ; but the im- 
 pulse changed my direction, and I was darted 
 up to the surface. 
 
 The storm had gone with the rapidity of 
 the south. The stars burned brightly blue 
 above my head. The pleasant breath of 
 groves and flowery perfumes came on the 
 waters. A distant sound of sweet voices 
 lingered on the air. Like one roused from a 
 frightful dream, I could scarcely believe that 
 this was reality. But the rolling waters be- 
 hind gave me sudden evidence. A billow, 
 the last messenger of the storm, burst into 
 the little bay, filled it to the brim with foam, 
 and tossed me far forward. It rolled back, 
 dragging with it the sedge and pebbles of the 
 beach, with an enc;mous noise. I grasped 
 
122 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 the trunk of an olive, rough and firm as the rock itself. 
 The retiring wave left me; I felt my way some paces 
 among the trees ; I cast myself down, and worn out with 
 fatigue, had scarcely touched the earth, when I fell into 
 that profound sleep which is the twin brother of death. 
 
 I awoke in the decline of the day, as I 
 could perceive by the yellow and orange 
 hues that colored the thick branches above 
 me. I was lying - in a delicious recess, 
 crowded with fruit trees; my bed was the turf, 
 but it was soft as down ; a solitary nightingale 
 above my head was sending forth snatches of 
 that melody, which night prolongs into the 
 very voice of sweetness and sorrow ; and a 
 balmy air from the wild thyme and blossoms 
 of the rose breathed soothingly even to the 
 mind. 
 
 I had been thrown on one of the little isles 
 that lie off Anthoedon, a portion of the Phi- 
 listine territory, before it was won by our 
 tiero Maccaboeus. The commerce which 
 once filled the arm of the sea near Gaza, pe- 
 rished in the change of masters, and silence 
 and seclusion reigned in a spot formerly 
 echoing with the tumult of merchant and 
 mariner. The little isle, the favorite re- 
 treat of the opulent Greek and Syrian traders 
 in the overpowering heats of summer, and 
 cultivated with the lavish expenditure of com- 
 mercial taste, now gave no proof of its ever 
 having felt the font of man, but in the sponta- 
 neous pouring out of flowers, once brought 
 from every region of the East and West, and 
 the exquisite fruits that still enriched its 
 slopes and dells. 
 
 In all things else, nature had resumed her 
 rights; the pavilions, the temples of Parian 
 and Numidian stone, were in ruins, and bu- 
 ried under a carpet of roses and myrtles. 
 The statues left but here and there a remnant 
 of thems'dves, a sublime relic wreathed over 
 in fantastic spirals bv the clematis ^nd other 
 climbing plants. The sculptured fountain 
 let its waters loose over the ground ; and the 
 guardian genius that hung in marble beauty 
 over the spring, had long since resigned his 
 charge, and lay mutilated and discolored 
 with the air and the dew. But the spring- 
 still gushed, bounding blight between the 
 gray fissures of the cliff, and marking its 
 course through the plain by the richer mazes 
 of creen. 
 
 To me, who was as weary of existence as 
 ever was galley-slave, this spot of quiet love- 
 liness had a tenfold power. My mind, like 
 mv body, longed for rest. 
 
 Through life I had walked in a thorny 
 path. I had winged a tempestuous atmos- 
 phere. Useless hazards, wild projects, bit- 
 ter sufferings, were mv portion. My affec- 
 tions, those feelingsin which alonel could be 
 said to live, had been made inlets of pain. 
 The love which nature and justice won from 
 me to tny family, was perpetually thwarted 
 
 by a chain of circumstances that made me a 
 wretched, helpless, and solitary man. What 
 then could I do better than abandon the idle 
 hope of finding happiness among mankind, 
 break off the trial which must be prolonged 
 only to my evil, and elude the fate that des- 
 tined me to be an exile in the world ! Yes! 
 1 would no longer be a man of suffering in 
 the presence of its happiness; a wretch 
 stripped of an actua‘1 purpose or a solid hope 
 in the midst of its activity and triumph; the 
 abhorred example of a career miserable with 
 defeated pursuit, and tantalized with expec- 
 tations, vain as the bubble on the stream ! 
 
 In this stern resolve, gathering a courage 
 from despair, — as the criminal standing on 
 the scaffold scoffs at the world that rejects 
 him, — 1 determined to exclude recollection. 
 The spot round me was to fill up the whole 
 measure of my thoughts. Wife, children, 
 friend, country, to me, must exist no more, 
 f imaged them in the tomb; I talked with 
 them as shadows, as the graceful and lovely 
 existences of ages past; but labored to di- 
 vest ihem of the individual features that cling 
 to the soul. 
 
 Lest this mystic repose should be disturbed 
 by any of the sights of living man, 1 withdrew 
 deeper into the shades which first sheltered 
 me. It was enough for me that there was a 
 canopy of leaves above to shield my limbs 
 from the casual visitations of a sky, whose sap- 
 phire looked scarcely capable of a stain, and 
 that the turf was soft for my couch. Fruits, 
 sufficient to tempt the most luxurious taste, 
 were falling round, and the waters of the 
 bright rivulet, scooped in the rind of citron 
 and orange, wore a draught that the epicure 
 might envy. I was utterly ignorant on what 
 shore of the Mediterranean I was thrown, 
 farther than that the sun rose behind my 
 bower, and threw his western lustre on the 
 waveless expanse of sea that spread before 
 it to the round horizon. 
 
 But no man can be a philosopher against 
 nature. With my strength, the desire of ex- 
 ertion returned. My most voluptuous rest 
 became irksome. Memory would not he re- 
 strained ; the flood-gate of thought opened 
 once more; and to resist the passion for the 
 world, I was driven to the drudgery of the 
 hands. I gathered wood for the winter’s fuel 
 in the midst, of days when the sun poured fire 
 from the heavens; I attempted to build a hut 
 beside grottoes that a hermit would love; I 
 trained trees, and cultivated flowers, where 
 the soil threw out all that was rich in both 
 with exhaustiess prodigality. 
 
 But, no expedient would appease the pas- 
 sion for the ab-orbing business of the world. 
 My bower lost its enchantment; the delight 
 of lying on beds of violet, and, with my eyes 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 fixed on the heavens, wandering away on 
 the wings of fantastic illusion, palled upon 
 me; the colors of the vision grew dim : I no 
 more imaged shapes of beauty winging their 
 way through the celestial azuie; I heard no 
 harmonies of spirits on the midnight winds; 
 I followed no longer the sun, rushing on its 
 golden chariot wheels to lands unstained by 
 human step; or plunged with him into the 
 depths, and ranged the secret wonders of ocean. 
 
 Labor, in its turn, grew irksome. I re- 
 proached myself for the vulgar existence 
 which occupied only the inferior portion of 
 my nature; living only for food, sleep, and 
 shelter, what was I better than the seals that 
 basked on the shore at my feet] Night, too, 
 — that mysterious rest interposed for purposes 
 of such varied beneficence — to cool the brain 
 fevered by the bustle of the day — to soften 
 mutual hostility by a pause, to which all 
 alike must yield — to remind our forgetful na- 
 ture, by a perpetual semblance, of the time 
 when all things must pass away, and be si- 
 lent, and change — to sit in judgment on our 
 hearts, and, by a decision which no hypocrisy 
 can disguise, anticipate the punishment of 
 the villian, as it gives the man of virtue the 
 foretaste of his reward, — night began to ex- 
 ert its old influence over me ; and, with the 
 strongest determination to think no more of 
 what had been, I closed my eyes but to let 
 .n the past. I might have said, that my true 
 sleep was during the labors of the day; and 
 my waking, when I lay with my senses 
 sealed, upon my bed of leaves. 
 
 It is impossible to shut up the mind, and I 
 at last abandoned the struggle. The spell of 
 indolence once broken, I became as restless 
 as an eagle in a cage. My first object was 
 to discover on what corner of the land I was 
 thrown. Nothing could be briefer than the 
 circuit of my island, and nothing less expla- 
 natory. It was one of those little alluvial 
 spots that grow round the first rock that 
 catches the vegetation swept down by rivers. 
 Ages had gone by, while reed was bound to 
 reed, and one bed of clay laid upon another. 
 The ocean had thrown up its pebbles on the 
 shore, the wind had sown tree and herb on 
 the naked sides of the tall rock, the tree had 
 drawn the cloud, and from its roots let loose 
 the spring. Cities and empires perished 
 while this little island was forming into love- 
 liness. Thus nature perpetually builds, 
 while decay does its work with the pomps of 
 man. 
 
 From the shore I saw but a long line of 
 yellow sand across a broad belt of blue waters. 
 No sight on earth could less attract the eye, 
 or be less indicative of man and the delights 
 of civilized life. y 
 
 Yet, within that sandy barrier, what wild 
 and wonderous acts were doing and to be 
 
 9 
 
 i --jf 
 
 done ! My mind, with a wing that no sorrow 
 or bondage could tame, passed over the de- 
 sert, and saw the battle, the siege, the bloody 
 sedition, the long and heart-broken banish- 
 ment, the fierce conflict of passions irrestrain- 
 able as the tempest, the melancholy ruin of 
 my country by a judgment powerful as fate, 
 and dreary, and returnless as the grave. 
 
 But the waters between me and that shore, 
 were an obstacle that no vigor of imagination 
 could overcome. I was too feeble to attempt 
 the passage by swimming. The opposite 
 coast appeared to be uninhabited, and the 
 few fishing boats that passed lazily along this 
 lifeless coast, evidently shunned the island, 
 as I conceived, from some hidden shoal. I 
 felt myself a prisoner, and the thought irri- 
 tated me. That ancient disturbance of my 
 mind, which rendered it so keenly excitable, 
 was born again; I felt its coming, and knew 
 that my only resource was to escape from 
 this circumscribing paradise, that was to be- 
 come my dungeon. Day after day I paced 
 the shore, awaking the echoes with my use- 
 less shouts, as each distant sail glided along 
 close to the sandy line that was to me the 
 unattainable path of happiness. I made 
 signals from the hill ; but I might as well 
 have summoned the vultures to stop, as they 
 flew screaming above my head to feed on the 
 relics of the Syrian caravans. 
 
 What trifles can sometimes stand between 
 man and enjoyment! Wisdom would have 
 thanked Heaven for the hope of escaping the 
 miseries of life in the little enchanted round, 
 guarded by that entrenchment of waters, 
 filled with every production that could de- 
 light. the sense, and giving to the spirit weary 
 of all that the world could offer, the gentle 
 retirement in which it could gather its re- 
 maining strength, and make its peace with 
 Heaven. 
 
 I was lying, during a fiery noon, on the 
 edge of the island, looking towards the oppo- 
 site coast, the only object on which I could 
 now bear to look; when in the stillness of the 
 hour T heard a strange mingling of distant 
 sounds; yet so totally indistinct, that after 
 long listening I could conjecture it to be 
 nothing but the ripple of the water. 
 
 It died away. But it haunted me ; I heard 
 it in fancy. It followed me in the twilight, 
 when earth arid heaven were soft and silent 
 as an infant’s sleep — when the very spirit ot 
 tranquillity seemed to be folding his dewy 
 wings over the world. 
 
 Wearied more with thought than with the 
 daily toil that I imposed on myself for its 
 cure, I had lain down on my bed of turf un- 
 der the shelter of those thick woven boughs 
 that scarcely let in the glimpses of the moon. 
 The memory of all whom later chances 
 brought in my path, passed before me. The 
 
Salat hid. 
 
 fate of my gallant kinsmen in Masada ; of the 
 wily Ishmaelite ; of the pirate captain ; of that 
 unhappy crew, whose danger was my invo- 
 luntary deed ; of my family, scattered upon 
 the face of the world. Arcturus bending to- 
 wards the horizon, told me that it was mid- 
 night; when my revery was broken by the 
 same sounds that had disturbed my day. 
 
 But they now came full and distinct. I 
 heard the crashing of heavy axles a'long the 
 road, the measured tramp of cavalry, the calls 
 of the clarion and trumpet. They seemed 
 beside me. I started from my bed ; but all 
 around was still. 1 gazed across the waters. 
 They were lying, like another sky, reflecting 
 star for star with the blue immensity above; 
 but on them was no living thing. 
 
 I had heard of phantom armies traversing 
 the air ; but the sky was serene as crystal. I 
 climbed the hill; upon whose summit I re- 
 collected to have seen the ruins of an altar; 
 gathered the weeds, and lighted a beacon. 
 The flame threw a wide and ruddy reflection 
 on the waters and the sky. I watched by it. 
 till morn. But the sound had died as rapidly 
 as it came. And wdien with the first pearly 
 tinge of the east, the coast shaped itself be- 
 neath my eye, I saw with bitter disappoint- 
 ment but. the same solitary sand. 
 
 The idea of another day of suspense was 
 intolerable. I returned to my place of re- 
 fuge, gave it that glance of mingled feeling, 
 without which perhaps no man leaves the 
 shelter w'hich he is never to see again ; col- 
 lected a few fruits for my sustenance if I 
 should reach the shore of Palestine, and, with 
 a resolution to perish, if it so pleased Provi- 
 dence, but not to return, plunged into the 
 sea. 
 
 The channel was even broader than I had 
 calculated by the eye. My limbs were still en- 
 feebled; but my determination was strength. 
 I was swept by the current far from the oppo- 
 site curve of the shore, yet its force spared 
 mine ; and at length I felt the ground under 
 my feet. I was overjoyed ; though never was 
 6cene less fitted for joy. To the utmost 
 verge of the view, spread the desert; a sullen, 
 herbless waste, glowing like a sheet of brass 
 in the almost vertical sun. 
 
 But I was on land. I had accomplished 
 my purpose. Hope, the power of exertion, - 
 the chances of the glorious future were be- 
 fore me. I was no longer a prisoner within 
 the borders of a spot, which for the objects of 
 manly life might as well have been my 
 grave. 
 
 I journeyed on in the direction of Masada ; 
 there at least I should be no fugitive. Yet, 
 what fearful reverses, in this time of confu- 
 sion, might not have occurred even there 1 
 what certainty could I have of being spared 
 the bitterest losses, when sorrow and slaughter 
 
 reigned through the land 1 Was I to be pro- 
 tected from the storm that fell with such pro- 
 miscuous fury upon all? I, too, the marked, 
 the victim, the example to mankind! — I 
 looked wistfully back to the isle, that isle of 
 oblivion. 
 
 While I was pacing the shore, that actually 
 scorched my feet, I heard a cry of alarm, and 
 saw on a low range of sand hills, at some 
 distance, a figure making violent gestures. 
 Friend or enemy, at least here was man; and 
 1 did not deeply care for the consequences 
 even of meeting man in his worst shape. 
 My life was not worth the taking. Plunger 
 and thirst might be more formidable enemies 
 in the end ; and I advanced towards the half- 
 naked savage, who, however, ran down from 
 the hill, crying out louder than ever. I 
 dragged my weary limbs after him, and 
 reached the edge of a little dell, in which 
 stood a circle of tents. 
 
 I had fallen among the robbers of the de- 
 sert; but there was evident confusion in this 
 fragment of a tribe. The camels were in the 
 act of being loaded, men and wemen were 
 gathering their household utensils with the 
 haste of terror, and dogs, sheep, camels, and 
 children, set up their voices in a general 
 clamor. 
 
 Dreading that I might lose my only chance 
 of refreshment and guidance, I cried out with 
 all my might, and ran down towards them; 
 but, the sight of me raised an universal 
 scream; and every living thing took flight, 
 the warriors of the colony gallantly leading 
 the way with a speed that soon left the pe- 
 destrians far in the rear. But their invader 
 conquered only for food. I entered the first 
 of the deserted tents, and indulged myself 
 with a full feast of bread, dry and rough as 
 the sand on which it was baked, and of wa- 
 ter only less bitter than that through which 
 I had passed. But all luxury is relative. To 
 me they were both delicious, and 1 thanked 
 at once the good fortune which had provided 
 so prodigally for those withered monarchs of 
 the sands, and had invested me with the sa- 
 lutary terror that gave the fruits of triumph 
 without the toil. 
 
 At the close of my feast I uttered a few 
 customary words of thanksgiving; a cry of 
 joy rang in my cars; I looked round ; saw, to 
 my surprise, a bale of carpets walk forward 
 from a corner of the tent, and heard a Jewish 
 tongue, imploring for life and freedom. I 
 rapidly developed the speaker ; and from this 
 repulsive coverture came forth one of the love- 
 liest young females that I had ever seen. 
 Her story was soon told. Noami was the 
 grand-daughter of Ananus, the late high- 
 priest, one of the most distinguished of his 
 nation for every lofty quality ; but he had 
 fallen on evil days. His resistance to faction 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 125 
 
 sharpened the dagger against him, and he 
 perished in one of the merciless feuds of the 
 city. His only descendant was sent to claim 
 the protection of her relatives in the south of 
 Judea. But her escort was dispersed by an 
 attack of the Arabs, and in the division of 
 the spoil, the Sheik of this little encampment 
 obtained her as his share. 
 
 The robber-merchant was on his way to 
 Cesarea to sell his prize to the Roman gov- 
 ernor, when my arrival put his army to the 
 route. To my inquiry into the cause of this 
 singular success, the fair girl answered that 
 the Arabs had taken me for a supernatural 
 visitant, “ probably come to claim some ac- 
 count of their proceedings in the late expedi- 
 tion.” They had been first startled by the 
 blaze in the island, which, from a wild tradi- 
 tion, was supposed to be the dwelling of for- 
 bidden beings. The passage of the channel 
 was seen, and increased the wonder ; my 
 daring to appear alone among men whom 
 mankind shunned, completed the belief of my 
 more than mortal prowess; and the Arab’s 
 courage abandoned a contest, in which “ the 
 least that could happen to them was to be 
 swept into the ocean, or tost piecemeal upon 
 the winds.” 
 
 To prevent the effects of their returning 
 intrepidity, no time was to be lost in our 
 escape. But the sun, which would have 
 scorched any thing but a lizard, or a Bedow- 
 een, to death, kept us prisoners until evening. 
 We were actively employed in the mean 
 while. The plunder of the horde was exam- 
 ined with the curiosity that makes one of the 
 indefeasible qualities of the fair in all clim- 
 ates; and the young Jewess had not been an 
 inmate of the tent, nor possessed the brightest 
 eyes among the daughters of women, for 
 nothing. 
 
 With an air between play and revenge, 
 she hunted out every recess in which even 
 the art of Arab thievery could dispose of its 
 produce ; and at length rooted up from a hole 
 in the very darkest corner of the tent, that 
 precious deposit for which the Sheik would 
 have sacrificed all mankind, and even the 
 last hair of his beard — a bag of shekels. She 
 danced with exultation, as she poured its 
 shining contents on the ground before me. 
 
 “ If ever Arab regretted his capture,” said 
 she, “this most unlucky of Sheiks shall have 
 cause. But I shall teach him at least one 
 virtue ; repentance to the last hour of his life. 
 I think that I see him at this moment frightened 
 into a philosopher, and wishing from the bot- 
 tom of his soul, that he had, for once, resisted 
 the temptations of his trade.” 
 
 “ But what will you do with the money, 
 my pretty teacher of virtue to Arabs 1” 
 
 “Give it to my preserver,” said she, ad- 
 vancing, with a look suddenly changed from 
 
 sportiveness to blushing timidity ; “ give it to 
 him who was sent by Providence to rescue a 
 daughter of Israel from the hands of Pagans.” 
 
 In the emotion of gratitude to me there 
 was mingled a loftier feeling, never so lovely 
 as in youth and woman ; she threw up a sin- 
 gle glance to heaven, and a tear of piety and 
 gratitude filled her sparkling eye. 
 
 “ But, temptress and teacher at once, by 
 what right am I to seize on the Sheik’s trea- 
 sury ! May it not diminish my supernatural 
 dignity with the tribe, to be known as a plun- 
 derer 1” 
 
 “ Ha !” said she, with a rosy smile ; “ who 
 is to betray you but your accomplice! Be- 
 sides, money is reputation and innocence, 
 wisdom and virtue, all over the world. Be 
 rich, and mankind are too rational to inquire 
 how you became the happy possessor of that 
 which mankind worship in their soul. But 
 listen, and let us state the case fairly.” 
 
 Touching with the tip of one slender finger 
 my arm as it lay folded over my bosom, she 
 waved the other hand in attitude of untaught 
 persuasion. 
 
 1 “ Is it not true,” pleaded the pretty crea- 
 
 ture, “ that next to a crime of our own, is the 
 being a party to the crime of others'! Now, 
 for what conceivable purpose could the Arab 
 have collected this money! Not for food or 
 clothing ; for he can eat thistles with his own 
 mule, and nature has furnished him with 
 clothing as she has furnished the bear. The 
 alhaic is only an incumbrance to his impene- 
 trable skin. What then can he do with mo- 
 ney, but mischief! fit out new expeditions, 
 and capture other fair maidens, who cannot 
 hope to find spirits good or bad for their pro- 
 tectors! If we leave him the means of evil, 
 what is it but doing the evil ourselves ! So,” 
 concluded this resistless pleader, carefully 
 gathering up the spoil, and putting it into 
 my hand, “ I have gained my cause, and have 
 now only to thank my most impartial judge 
 for his patient hearing.” 
 
 There is a spell in woman. No man, not 
 utterly degraded, can listen without delight 
 to the accents of a guileless heart. Beau- 
 ty too has a natural power over the mind ; 
 and it is right that this should be. All that 
 overcomes selfishness, the besetting sin of the 
 world, is an instrument of good. Beauty is 
 but melody of a higher kind ; and both alike 
 soften the troubled and hard nature of man. 
 Even if we looked on lovely woman but as 
 on a rose, an exquisite production of the sum- 
 mer hours of life, it would be idle to deny 
 her influence in making even those summer 
 hours sweeter. 
 
 But, as the companion of the mind, as the 
 very model of a friendship that no chance can 
 shake, as the pleasant sharer of the heart of 
 I heart, the being to whom man returns after 
 
126 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 the tumult of the day, like the worshipper to 
 a secret shrine, to revive his noble tastes and 
 virtues at a source pure from the evil of the 
 external world, and glowing with a perpetual 
 light of sanctity and love ; where shall we 
 find her equal 1 or what must be our feeling 
 toward the mighty Disposer of earth and all 
 that it inhabit, but of admiration and gratitude 
 to that disposal, which thus combines our 
 highest happiness with our purest virtue ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 The evening came at last; the burning 
 calm was followed by a breeze breathing of 
 life ; and on the sky sailed, as if it were waft- 
 ed by that gentle breeze, the evening star. 
 The lifeless silence of the desert began to be 
 broken by a variety of sounds, wild and sad 
 enough in themselves, but softening by dis- 
 tance, and not ill suited to that declining 
 hour, which is so natural an emblem of the 
 decline of life. The moaning of the shep- 
 herd’s horn; the low of the folding herds; 
 the long, deep cry of the camel ; even the 
 scream of the vulture wheeling home from 
 the corpse left by some recent wreck on the 
 shore ; and the howl of the jackall venturing 
 out on the edge of dusk, came with no un- 
 pleasing melancholy upon the wind. 
 
 We stood gazing impatiently from the 
 tent-door at the west, that still glowed like a 
 furnace of molten gold. 
 
 “Will that sun never go down"!” said I. 
 “VVe must wait his leisure; and he seems 
 determined to tantalize us.” 
 
 “ Yes ; like a rich old man, determined to 
 try the patience of his heirs ; end more tena- 
 cious of his wealth, the more his powers of 
 enjoyment decay.” 
 
 “Philosophy from those young lips ! Yet, 
 the desert is the place for a philosopher.” 
 
 “ That I deny,” said my sportive compan- 
 ion. “ Philosophy is good for nothing, where 
 it has nothing to ridicule, and where it will 
 be neither fed nor flattered. Its true place 
 is the world ; as much as the true place of 
 yonder falcon is wherever it can find any 
 thing to pounce upon. Here your philoso- 
 pher must labor for himself, and laugh at 
 himself; an indulgence of which he is the 
 most temperate of men. In short, he is fit 
 only for the idle, gay, ridiculous, and timid 
 world. The desert is the soil for a much 
 nobler plant. If you would train a poet into 
 a flower, set him here.” 
 
 “ Or a plunderer.” 
 
 “ No doubt. — They are sometimes much 
 the same.” 
 
 “ But the desert produces nothing — but 
 Arabs.” 
 
 “ There are some minds even among Arabs: 
 
 and some of their rhapsodies are beauty itself. 
 The very master of this tent, who fought and 
 killed, I dare not say how many, to secure so 
 precious a prize as myself ; and who, after all 
 his heroism, would have sold me into slavery 
 for life, spent half his evenings sitting at this 
 door, chanting to every star of heaven, and 
 rhyming with tears in his eyes, to all kinds 
 of tender remembrances.” 
 
 “ But he was a genius, a heaven-born ac- 
 cident ; and his merit was the more in being 
 a genius in the midst of such a scene.” 
 
 “No — every thing round us this hour is 
 poetry. The silence — those broken sounds 
 that make the silence more striking as they 
 decay — those fiery continents of cloud, the 
 empire of that greatest of sheiks the sun, lord 
 of the red desert of the air — the immeasur- 
 able desert below ! Vastness, obscurity, and 
 terror, the three spirits that work the pro- 
 foundest wonders of the poet, are here in 
 their native region. And now,” she said, 
 with a look that showed there were other 
 spells than poetry to be found in the desert, 
 “ to release you ; I know by signs infallible 
 that the sun is setting.” 
 
 I could not avoid laughing at the mimic 
 wisdom with which she announced her dis- 
 covery ; and asked whence she had acquired 
 the faculty of solving such rare problems. 
 
 “ Oh, by my incomparable knowledge of 
 the stars.” She pointed to the eastern sky, 
 on which they began to cluster in showers of 
 diamond. “ I have to thank the desert for it; 
 and,” she added, with a slight submission of 
 voice, “ for every thing. — I am a daughter of 
 the desert ; the first sight that I saw was a 
 camel ; my early, my only accomplishments 
 were, to ride, sing Bedoween songs, tell Be- 
 doween stories, and tame a young panther. 
 But, my history draws to a close. While I 
 was supreme in the graces of a savage ; had 
 learned to sit on a dromedary, throw the 
 lance, make alhaics, and gallop for a week 
 together ; love, resistless love, came in my 
 j way. The son of the sheik, heir to a hund- 
 red quarrels, and ten thousand sheep, goats, 
 and horses, claimed me as his natural prey. 
 I shrank from a husband, even more accom- 
 plished than myself; and was meditating how 
 to make my escape, whether into the wilder- 
 ness, or into the bottom of the sea ; when a 
 summons came, which, or the money that 
 came with it, the sheik found irresistible. 
 And now, my history is at an end.” 
 
 “ And so,” said I, to provoke her to the 
 rest of her narrative, “ your story ends, as 
 usual, with marriage. You, of course, find- 
 ing that you had nothing to prevent your 
 leaving the desert, took the female resolution 
 of staying in it; and, as you might discard 
 the young sheik at your pleasure, refused to 
 , have any other human being.” 
 
 |i 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 127 
 
 “ Can you think me capable of such a hor- 
 ror !” She stamped her little foot in indig- 
 nation on the ground ; then turning on me 
 with her flashing eye, penetrated the strata- 
 gem at once by my smile. 
 
 “ Then, hear the rest. I mounted my dro- 
 medary ; galloped for three days without 
 sleep ; and, at length, saw the towers of Jeru- 
 salem — glorious Jerusalem. I passed through 
 crowds that seemed to me a gathering of the 
 world ; streets that astonished me with a 
 thousand strange sights; and, overwhelmed 
 with magnificence, delight, and fatigue, ar- 
 rived at a palace, where I was met by a host 
 of half-adoring domestics ; and was led to the 
 most venerable and beloved of wise and holy 
 men, who caught me to his heart, called me 
 Naomi, his child, his hope ; and shed tears 
 and blessings on my head, as the sole sur- 
 vivor of his illustrious line.” 
 
 The recollection of the good and heroic 
 high-priest was strong with us both ; and in 
 silence I suffered her sorrows to have their 
 way. 
 
 A faint echo of horns and voices roused 
 me. 
 
 “ Look to the hills,” I exclaimed ; and I 
 saw a long black line creeping, like a march 
 of ants, down the side of a distant range of 
 sand. 
 
 “ Those are our Arabs,” said she, without 
 a change of countenance. “ They are, of 
 course, coming to see what the angel or de- 
 mon who visited them to-day has left in wit- 
 ness of his formidable presence. But, from 
 what I overheard of their terrors, no Arab 
 will venture near the tents till night; night, 
 the general veil of the iniquities of this plea- 
 sant and very wicked world.” 
 
 “ Yet how shall we traverse the sands on 
 foot 1” 
 
 “ Forbid it, the spirit of romance. I must 
 see whether the gallantry of the sheik has 
 not provided against that misfortune.” She 
 flew into the tent, and, drawing back a cur- 
 tain, showed me two mares of the most fa- 
 mous breed of Arabia. 
 
 “ Here are the Koshlani,” said she, with 
 playful malice dancing in her eyes. “I saw 
 them brought in in triumph last night, stolen 
 from the pastures of Achmet ben Ali himself, 
 first norse-stealer and prince of the Bedow- 
 eens, who is doubtless by this time half dead 
 of grief at the loss of the two gems of his stud. 
 
 I heard the achievement told with great re- 
 joicings ; and a very curious specimen of 
 dexterity it was. Come forth,” said she, 
 leading out two beautiful animals, white as 
 milk. “ Come forth, you two lovely orphans 
 of the true breed of Solomon; — princesses 
 with pedigrees that put kings to shame, un- 
 less they can go back two thousand years;! 
 
 birds of the Bedoween, with wings to your 
 feet, stars for eyes, and ten times the sense 
 of your masters, in your little tossing 
 heads.” 
 
 She sprang upon her courser, and winded 
 it with the delight of practised skill. The 
 Arabs were now but a few miles off, and in 
 .full gallop towards us. I urged her to ride 
 away at once. But she continued curvetting 
 and manoeuvring her spirited steed, that, en- 
 joying the free air of the desert after having 
 been shut up so long, threw up its red 
 nostrils in the wind, and bounded like a 
 stag. 
 
 “ A moment yet,” said she, “ I have not 
 quite done with the Arab. It is certainly bad 
 treatment for his hospitality, to have plunder- 
 ed him of his dinner, his money, and his 
 horses.” 
 
 “ And of his captive ; a loss beyond all re- 
 paration.” 
 
 “ I perfectly believe so,” was the laughing 
 i answer; “ but I have been thinking of mak- 
 ing him a reparation, which any Arab on 
 earth would think worth even my charms. 
 I have been contriving how to make his for- 
 tune.” 
 
 “ By returning his shekels!” 
 
 “ Not a grain of them shall he ever see. 
 No; he shall not have the sorrow to think 
 that he entertained only a princess and a 
 philosopher. As a spirit you came, and as a 
 spirit you shall depart; and he shall have the 
 honor of telling the tale. The national sto- 
 ries of such matters are worn out ; he shall 
 have a new one of his own ; and every emir 
 in the kingdoms of Ishmael, through the fiery 
 sands of Ichama; the riverless mountains of 
 Nayd ; Hejoz, the country of flies and fools ; 
 and Yemen, the land of locusts, lawyers and 
 merchants, will rejoice to have him at his 
 meal. The man’s fortune is made, for there 
 is no access to the heart like that of being 
 necessary to the dinners and dulness of 
 the mighty.” 
 
 “ Or on the strength of the wonder,” said 
 I, “ he may make wonders of his ovvn : turn 
 charlatan of the first magnitude ; profess to 
 cure the incurable, and get solid gold for 
 empty pretension ; sell health to the epicure, 
 gaiety to the old, and charms to the repul- 
 sive ; defy the course of nature, and live like 
 a prince upon the exhaustless revenue of 
 human absurdity.” 
 
 A cloud of smoke wreathed up from the 
 sheik’s tent, fire followed, and even while we 
 looked on, the wind, carrying the burning 
 fragments, set the whole camp in a blaze. 
 The Arabs gave a shriek, and fled back, 
 scattering, with gestures and cries of terror 
 through the sands. 
 
 [ “ There — there,” said my companion, clap- 
 
128 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 ping her delicate white palms in exultation ; 
 “ let them beware of making women captives 
 in future. In my final visit to the tent, 
 I put a firebrand into the very bundle 
 of carpets in which I played the part of 
 slave.” 
 
 “Not to be your representative, I pre- 
 sume.” 
 
 “Yes, with the only distinction that in 
 time I should have been the more perilous of 
 the two. If that unlucky sheik had dared to 
 keep me a week longer in his detestable 
 tent, I should have raised a rebellion in the 
 tribe, dethroned him, and turned princess on 
 my own account. As to burning him out, 
 there was no remedy. But for those flames, 
 the tribune would have been upon our road. 
 But for those flames, we might even have 
 been mistaken for mere mortals; and your 
 Spirits always vanish, as we do, in fire and 
 smoke. How nobly those tents blaze ! Now ; 
 forward.” 
 
 She gave the reins to her barb, flung a tri- 
 umphant gesture towards the burning camp, 
 and under cover of a huge sheet of fiery va- 
 por, we darted into the wilderness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 T directed our flight towards Masada. 
 The stars were brilliant guides; and the cool- 
 ness of the Arabian night, which, from so sin- 
 gular a contrast to the overpowering ardors 
 of the day, relieved us from the chief obstacle 
 of desert travel. At day-break we reached a 
 tract near the sea-shore, whose broken and 
 burnt-up ground showed that there had lately 
 encamped the army, the sound of whose march 
 filled my reveries in the island. 
 
 It was evening when I caught the glimpse 
 of the distant mountain of the fortress. My 
 heart bounded fearfully at the sight. An 
 impression of evil was upon me. Yet I must 
 go on, or die. 
 
 “ There,” said I, “ you see my home, and 
 yours, while you desire it. You will find 
 friends, delighted to receive you, and a pro- 
 tection that neither Roman nor Arab can 
 violate. Heaven grant that all may be as 
 when I left Masada !” 
 
 The fair girl gratefully thanked me. 
 
 “ I have been long,” said she, “ unused to 
 kindness ; and its voice overpowers me. But 
 if the duty, the gratitude, the faithful de- 
 votedness of the orphan to her generous 
 preserver, can deserve protection, I shall yet 
 
 have some claim. Suffer me to be your 
 daughter.” 
 
 She bowed her head before me with filial 
 reverence ; I took the outstretched hand, that 
 quivered in mine, and pressed it to my lips. 
 The sacred compact was ratified in the sight 
 of Heaven. More formal treaties have been 
 made ; but few sincerer. 
 
 VVe rapidly advanced to the foot of the 
 ridge that, now defining and extending, show- 
 ed its well-known features in their rugged 
 grandeur. But, to corne in sight of the for- 
 tress, I had still one of the huge buttresses of 
 the mountain to round. My companion, with 
 the quick sympathy that makes one of the 
 finest charms of women, already shared in my 
 ominous fears, and rode by my side without 
 uttering a word. My eyes were fixed on the 
 ground. I was roused by a clash of warlike 
 music. The suspense was terribly at an 
 end. 
 
 The spears of a legion were moving in a 
 glittering line down the farther declivity. 
 Squadrons of horses in marching order were 
 drawn up on the plain. The baggage of a 
 little army lay under the eye, waiting for the 
 escort of the troops now descending from the 
 fortress. The story of my ruin was told in 
 that single glance. All was lost. 
 
 The walls of the citadel, breached in every 
 direction, gave signs of a long siege. The 
 White Stag of Naphtali no longer lifted its 
 head in pride on the battlements; dismantling 
 and desolation were there. But what horrors 
 must have been wrought, before the Romans 
 could shake the strength of those walls ! In 
 what grave was I to look for my noble bro- 
 ther and my kinsmen ? Last and most fear- 
 ful, what had been the fate of Miriam and 
 my children ! 
 
 Conscious that to stay was to give myself 
 and my trembling companion to the cruel 
 mercy of Rome, 1 was yet unable to leave 
 the spot. I hovered round it as the spirit 
 might hover round the tomb. Maddening 
 with bitter yearnings of heart, that in- 
 tense eagerness to know the worst, which is 
 next to despair, I spurred up the steep by an 
 obscure path that led me to a postern. 
 
 There was no sound within. 
 
 1 dashed through the streets. Not a living 
 being was to be seen ; piles of fire-wood, light- 
 ed under the principal buildings and at the 
 gates, showed that the fortress was destined 
 to immediate overthrow. War had done its 
 worst. The broad sanguine plashes on the 
 pavements showed that the battle had been 
 fought long and desperately within the walls. 
 The famous armory was a heap of ashes. 
 Ditches dug across the streets, and strewed 
 with broken weapons, and the white rem- 
 nants of what once was man ; walls raised 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 129 
 
 within walls, and now broken down; stately 
 houses loop-holed and turned into little for- 
 tresses; fragments of noble architecture 
 blocking up the breaches; graves dug in 
 every spot where the spade could open a few 
 feet of ground ; fragments of superb furniture 
 lying half-burnt, where the defenders had 
 been forced out by conflagration; gave sadi 
 evidence of the struggle of brave men against: 
 overpowering numbers. 
 
 But where were they, who had made the 
 prize so dear to the conquerors'! Was I 
 treading on the clay that once breathed pa- 
 triotism and love ! Did the wreck on which 
 I leaned, as I gazed round this mighty mau- 
 soleum, cover the earthly tenement of my 
 kinsmen, and still dearer, the last of my 
 name ! Was I treading on the grave of 
 those gentle and lovely natures, for whose 
 happiness I would rejoicingly have laid down 
 the sceptre of the world ! 
 
 In my agitation I spoke aloud. My voice 
 rang through the solitude around me, and 
 returned on the ear with a startling distinct- 1 
 ness. Living sounds suddenly mingled with 
 the echo. A low groan came from the pile: 
 of ruins beside me. I listened, as one might | 
 listen for an answer from the sepulchre.! 
 The voice was heard again. A few stones] 
 from the shattered wall gave way, and I 
 saw thrust out the withered bony hand of 
 a human being. I tore down the remain- 
 ing impediments, and saw, pale, emacia- 
 ted, and at the point of death, by famine, 
 my friend, my fellow-soldier, my fellow-suf- 
 ferer, Jubal ! 
 
 Joy is sometimes as dangerous as sorrow. 
 He gave a glance of recognition, struggled 
 forward, and, uttering a wild cry, fell sense- 
 less into my arms. On his recovering, before 
 I could ask him the question nearest to my 
 heart, it was answered, “ They are safe, all 
 safe,” said he. “ On the landing of fresh 
 troops from Italy, the first efforts of the le- 
 gions was directed against this fortress. 
 The pirates, in return for the victory to which 
 you led them, had set me at liberty. I made 
 my way through the enemy’s posts ; Eleazar, 
 ever generous and noble, received me after I 
 all my wanderings with the heart of aj 
 father; and we determined on defending this 
 glorious trophy of your heroism to the last I 
 man. But, with the wisdom that never fail- 
 ed him, he knew what must be the result ; 
 and at the very commencement of the seige 
 sent away your family to Alexandria, where 
 they might be secure of protection from our 
 kindred.” 
 
 “And they went by sea!” I asked, shud- 
 deringly, while the whole terrible truth dawn- 
 ed upon my mind. 
 
 “ It was the only course. The country was 
 filled with the enemy.” 
 
 “ Then they are lost ! Wretched father, 
 now no father. Man marked by destiny. 
 The blow has fallen at last. They perished. 
 I saw them perish. Their dying shrieks 
 rang in these ears. I was their destroyer. 
 From first to last, I have been their un- 
 doing !” 
 
 Jubal looked on me with astonishment. 
 My adopted daughter, without any idle at- 
 tempt at consolation, only bathed my hand in 
 her tears. 
 
 “ There must be some misconception here,” 
 said Jubal. “ Before we left that accursed 
 dungeon, they had embarked with a crowd 
 of females from the surrounding country in 
 one of the annual fleets for Egypt. Before 
 we sailed from the pirate’s cavern, they were 
 probably safe in Alexandria.” 
 
 “ No ! I saw them perish. I heard their 
 dying cry. I drove them, involuntarily, but 
 surely drove them, to destruction,” was the 
 only voice that my withering lips could utter. 
 I remembered the horrors of the storm ; the 
 desperate efforts of the merchant galley to 
 escape; its fatal disappearance. Faintly, 
 and with many a reviving agony, I gave the 
 melancholy reasons for my belief. My audi- 
 tors listened with fear and trembling. 
 
 “ There is now no use in sorrow,” said 
 Jubal, sternly, “and as little in struggle. I 
 too have lived till the light that lightened 
 my dreary hours is extinguished. I have 
 known the extremities of passion. If suffer- 
 ing could have atoned for my offences I have 
 suffered. A thousand years of existence 
 could not teach me more. Here let us die.” 
 He unsheathed his poinard. 
 
 “Here let us die !” I exclaimed with him, 
 and my poinard glittered in my hand. 
 
 My young companion, in the anxiety of 
 the moment, forgetting the presence of a 
 stranger, flung back the veil which had hith- 
 erto covered her face and figure, and clasp- 
 ing my half-raised arm, said, in a tone so 
 low, yet penetrating, that it seemed the 
 whispers of my own conscience — 
 
 “ Has death no fears!” She fixed her eyes 
 on me ; and waited breathless for the an- 
 swer. 
 
 “ Daughter of beauty,” said Jubal, as a 
 smile of admiration played on his sad features, 
 “ thoughts like ours are not for the lovely 
 and the young. May the Heaven that has 
 stamped that countenance be your protection 
 through many a year ! But, to the weary, 
 rest is happiness, not terror. Prince of 
 ! Naphtali, this fair maiden’s presence forbids 
 darker thoughts ; we must speed her on her 
 way to security, before we can think of our- 
 I selves and our misfortunes.” 
 
130 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 “ The daughter of Ananus,” said she, in a 
 tone of heroic pride, “has no fears. The 
 boldest warrior of Israel never died more 
 boldly than that venerable parent. VVithin 
 his sacred robes there was the heart of a sol- 
 dier, a patriot, and a king. Let me die for 
 a cause like his; at the foot of the altar, let 
 my blood be poured out for my country; let 
 this feeble form sink in the ruins of the Tem- 
 ple; and death will be of all welcome things 
 the most welcome. But I would not die for a 
 fantasy, for idleness, for nothing; put up those 
 weapons, warriors, and let us go forth and 
 see whether great things are not yet to be 
 done.” 
 
 She significantly pointed towards Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 “It is too late,” said Jubal, glancing with 
 a sigh at his own wasted form. 
 
 “ What!” said the heroine ; “ is it too late 
 to be virtuous, but not too late to be guilty ; 
 too late to resist the enemies of our country, 
 but not too late to make ourselves worthless to 
 her holy cause ! If Heaven demands an ac- 
 count of every wasted talent, and misspent 
 hour, what fearful account will be theirs who 
 make all talents and all hours useless at a 
 blow !” 
 
 “ Maiden, you have not known what it is 
 to lose every thing that made earth a place 
 of hope,” said I, gazing with wonder and pity 
 on the fine enthusiasm that the world is so 
 fatally empowered to destroy. “ May not the 
 tired traveller hasten to the end of his journey 
 without a crime 1 ” 
 
 “ May not the slave,” said Jubal, “weary 
 of his chain, escape unchidden from his cap- 
 tivity !” 
 
 “ And may not the soldier quit his post, 
 when caprice disgusts him with his duty !” 
 was the maiden’s answer with a lofty look. 
 “ Or may not the child break loose from the 
 place of instruction, and plead his disgust at 
 discipline ! As well may man, placed here 
 for the service of the highest and most be- 
 nevolent of beings, plead his own narrow and 
 ignorant will against the supreme command ; 
 daringly charge Heaven with the injustice 
 of setting him a task above his strength, and 
 madly insult its power under the hollow pre- 
 text. of relying on its compassion. This wis- 
 dom is not my own. It was the last gift of 
 an illustrious parent, when in my agony at 
 the sight of his mortal wounds, I longed to 
 follow him. ‘ Live,’ said he, ‘ w’hile you can 
 live with virtue. The God who has placed 
 us on earth, best knows when and how to re- 
 call us. If self-destruction were no crime in 
 one instance, it would be no crime to univer- 
 sal mankind; the whole frame of society 
 tyould be overthrown by a permission to evade 
 its duties on the easy penalty of dying. Our 
 
 obligations to country, family, man, and Hea- 
 ven, would be perpetually flung off, if they 
 were to be held at the caprice of human in- 
 sensibility.’ ” 
 
 Jubal looked intently on the young oracle; 
 and, bending with oriental deference, was yet 
 unconvinced. “ Man was not made to endure, 
 when endurance is useless. Is there to be 
 no end to the mind’s anxiety, but the tardy de- 
 cay of the frame ! Is there no time for the 
 return of the exile ! or, what is this very 
 feeling of despair, but a voice within — an un- 
 written command — to die !” 
 
 Naomi turned to me with a look imploring 
 my aid. But I was broken down with the 
 tidings that had just reached me. Jubal 
 wrapped his cloak round him, and was strid- 
 ing into the shadow of the ruin. Naomi, ter- 
 rified at the idea of death, seized the corner 
 of his mantle. “Will you shrink from the 
 evils of life!” she adjured, “and yet have 
 the dreadful courage to defy the wrath of 
 Heaven ! Shall worms like us, shall crear- 
 tures covered with weaknesses and sins, 
 whose only hope must be in mercy, commit 
 a crime that by its very nature disclaims 
 supplication, and makes repentance impos- 
 sible !” 
 
 With the energy of fear, she threw back 
 the folds of the cloak, and arrested the hand, 
 with the dagger already unsheathed in it. 
 She led back the reluctant, yet unresisting 
 step of the suicide, and said, in a voice still 
 trembling; “ Prince of Naphtali, save your 
 brother.” I held out my arms to Jubal; 
 the sternness of his soul was past, and 
 he fell upon my neck. Naomi stood exult- 
 ing in her triumph, with the countenance 
 that an angel might wear at the return of a 
 sinner. 
 
 “ Prince of Naphtali,” said she, “ if those 
 who were dear to you have perished, .which 
 Heaven avert ! you may have been thus but 
 the more marked out for the instrument of 
 solemn uses to Israel. The virtues that 
 might have languished in the happiness of 
 home, may be summoned into vigor for man- 
 kind. Warrior,” and she turned her glowing 
 smile on Jubal, “ this is not the time for val- 
 or and experience to shrink from the side of 
 our country. Faction may be repelled by 
 patriotism; violence put down by wisdom; 
 the powers of the people roused by the 
 example of a hero ; even the last spark of 
 life may be made splendid by mingling with 
 the last glories of the chosen people of 
 God.” / 
 
 Jubal's wasted cheek reddened with the 
 theme ; but his emotion was too deep for lan- 
 guage : he led the way ; we passed in silence 
 through the silent streets ; and, without see- 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 131 
 
 ing the face of human being, reached the dis- 
 mantled gates of Masada. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Jubal guided us down the declivities 
 among ramparts and trenches; and after long 
 windings, where every step reminded us of 
 havoc, brought us to a little hamlet in the 
 recesses of the valley, so secluded, that 
 it seemed never to have heard the sound of 
 war. 
 
 The thunder of the falling masses of forti- 
 fication, as the fire reached the props, awoke 
 me soon after midnight; and I arose and 
 tasted the delicious air that makes the sum- 
 mer night of Asia the time of refreshing alike 
 to the frame and to the mind. I found Jubal 
 already abroad, and gazing on the summit of 
 the mountain, where the sullen glare of the 
 sky, and the crash of buildings, showed that 
 the work of devastation was rapidly going 
 on. 
 
 He gave me some of the details of the siege. 
 The Romans had found the fortress so hazard- 
 ous to the advance of their reinforcements, 
 that its possession was essential to the con- 
 quest of Judea. Cestius, my old antagonist, 
 solicited the command, to wipe off his dis- 
 grace ; and the whole force of the legions 
 was brought up. But the generalship of 
 Eleazar, and the intrepidity of the garrison, 
 baffled every assault, with tremendous loss to 
 the enemy. The siege was next turned into 
 a blockade. Famine and disease were more 
 formidable than the sword; and the brave 
 defenders were reduced to a number scarce- 
 ly able to man the walls. 
 
 “ We now,” said Jubal, “ fought the battle 
 of despair: we saw the enemy’s camp crowd- 
 ed every day with fresh troops, and the pro- 
 visions of the whole country brought among 
 them in lavish profusion, while we had not a 
 morsel to eat, while our fountains ran dry, 
 and our few troops were harassed with mor- 
 tal fatigue. Yet no man thought of surren- 
 der. Eleazar’s courage, — a courage sustained 
 by higher thoughts than those of the soldier, 
 the fortitude of piety and prayer, — inspired 
 us all, and we went to our melancholy duties 
 with the calmness of those to whom the grave 
 was inevitable. 
 
 “ At last, when our reduced numbers gave 
 the enemy a hope of overpowering the de- 
 fence, we were attacked by their whole 
 force. But, if they expected to conquer us 
 at their ease, never were men more deceived, 
 
 i When the walls gave way before their ma- 
 ! chines, they were fought from street to street, 
 from house to house, from chamber to cham- 
 ber. Eleazar, active as wise, was every 
 {where; we fought in ruins — in fire. Multi- 
 tudes of the enemy perished ; and more deaths 
 were given by the knife than the spear ; for 
 our arms were long since exhausted. The 
 last effort was made on the spot where you 
 found me. When every defence was mas- 
 tered by the perpetual supply of fresh troops, 
 Eleazar, passing through the subterranean to 
 attack the Roman rear, left me in command 
 of the few that survived. We intrenched 
 ourselves in the armory. For three days we 
 ■fought, without tasting food, without an hour’s 
 sleep, without laying the weapons out of our 
 hands. At length, the final assault was given. 
 In the midst of it we heard shouts which told 
 us that our friends had made the concerted 
 attack; but we were too few and feeble to 
 second it. The shouts died away — we were 
 overpowered ; and my first sensation of re- 
 turning life was the combined agony of fam- 
 ine, wounds, and suffocation, under the ruins 
 that I then thought my living grave.” 
 
 “ By dawn,” said I, “ we must set out for 
 Jerusalem.” 
 
 “ It has been closely invested for the last 
 three months ; and famine and facLion are 
 doing their worst within the walls. Titus is 
 without, at the head of a hundred thousand of 
 the legionaries and allies. To enter will be 
 next to impossible ; and when once entered, 
 what will be before you but the madness of 
 civil discord, and, finally, death by the hands 
 of an enemy utterly infuriated against our 
 nation 1” 
 
 “ To Jerusalem, at all risks ; my fate is 
 mingled with that of the last stronghold of 
 our fallen people. What matters it to one 
 whose roots of happiness are cut up like mine, 
 in what spot he struggles with man and for- 
 I tune 1 As a son of Judea my powers are due 
 to her cause, and every drop of my blood shed 
 for any other would be treason to the memory 
 of my fathers. The dawn finds me on my 
 way to Jerusalem.” 
 
 j “ It is spoken like a prince of Naphtali ; 
 ibut I must not follow you. The course of 
 I glory is cut off for me; unless something may 
 .still be done by collecting the fugitives of the 
 tribes, and harassing the Roman communi- 
 cations. But Jerusalem, though every stone 
 of her walls is precious to my soul, must not 
 receive my guilty steps. I have horrid re- 
 collections' of things seen and done there. 
 My mind is still too full of the impulses that 
 drove it to frenzy. Onias, that wily hypo- 
 crite, will be there to fill me with visions of 
 terror. There too are — others.” He was 
 { silent; but suddenly resuming his firmness, 
 
132 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 “ I have no hostility to Constantius ; I even 
 honor and esteem him ; but my spirit is still 
 too feverish to bear his presence. I must 
 live and die far from all that I have ever 
 known.” 
 
 He hid his face in his mantle ; but the agi- 
 tation of his form showed more than clamor- 
 ous grief. He walked forth into the dark- 
 ness. I was ignorant of his purpose, and 
 lingered long for his return. But I saw him 
 no more. 
 
 Disturbed and pained by his loss, I had 
 scarcely thrown myself on the cottage floor, 
 my only bed, -when 1 was roused by the cries 
 of the village. A detachment of Roman 
 cavalry, marching for Jerusalem, had entered, 
 and was taking up its quarters for the night. 
 The peasantry could make no resistance, 
 and attempted none. I had only time to 
 call to my adopted daughter to rise, when 
 our hut was occupied and we were made 
 prisoners. 
 
 This was an unexpected blow ; yet it was 
 one to which, on second thoughts, 1 was re- 
 conciled. In the disturbed state of the coun- 
 try travelling was totally insecure, and even 
 to obtain a conveyance of any kind was a 
 matter of extreme difficulty. The roving 
 plunderers that hovered in the train of the 
 camp were, of all plunderers, the most mer- 
 ciless. By falling into the hands of the le- 
 gionaries we were at least sure of an escort ; 
 
 I might obtain some useful information of 
 their affairs; and, once in sight of the city, 
 might escape from the Roman lines with 
 more ease as a prisoner, than I could pass 
 them as an enemy. 
 
 The cavalry moved at day-break ; and be- 
 fore night we saw in the horizon the hills 
 that surround Jerusalem. But we had full 
 evidence of our approach to the centre of 
 struggle, by the devastation that follows the 
 track of the best disciplined army; groves 
 and orchards cut down ; corn-fields trampled ; 
 cottages burnt; gardens and homesteads rav- 
 aged. Farther on, we traversed the encamp- 
 ments of the auxiliaries, barbarians of every 
 color and language within the limits of the 
 mightiest of empires. 
 
 To the soldier of civilized nations war is a 
 new state of existence. To the soldier of 
 barbarism war is but a more active species of 
 his daily life. It requires no divorce from 
 his old habits, and even encourages his old 
 objects, cares, and pleasures. YVe found the 
 Arab, the German, the Scythian, and the 
 Ethiop, hunting, carousing, trafficking, and 
 quarrelling, as if they had never stirred from 
 their native regions. The hordes brought 
 with them their families, their cattle, and 
 their trade. In the rear of every auxiliary 
 camp, was a regular mart, crowded with alii 
 
 kinds of dealers. Through the fields the 
 barbarians were following the sports of home. 
 Trains of falconers were flying their birds at 
 the wild pigeon and heron. Half-naked 
 horsemen were running races, without sad- 
 dle or rein, on horses wild and swift as the 
 antelope. Groups were lying under the palm- 
 groves asleep, with their spears fixed at their 
 heads ; others were seen busy decorating 
 themselves for battle ; crowds were dancing, 
 gaming, and drinking. 
 
 As we advanced, we could hear the variety 
 of clamors and echoes that belong to barba- 
 rian war — the braying of savage horns, the 
 roars of mirth, rage, and feasting ; the shouts 
 of clans moving up to reinforce the besiegers ; 
 the screams and lamentations of the innumer- 
 able women as the wains and litters brought 
 back the wounded ; the barbarian howlings 
 over the hasty grave of some chieftain ; the 
 ferocious revelry of the discoverers of plun- 
 der, and the inextinguishable sorrows of the 
 captives. 
 
 We passed through some miles of this bois- 
 terous and bustling scene, in which even a 
 Roman escort was scarcely a sufficient secu- 
 rity. The barbarians thronged round us, 
 brandished their spears over our heads, 
 rode their horses full gallop against us 
 and exhausted the whole language of scorn, 
 ridicule and wrath, upon our helpless con- 
 dition. 
 
 But the clamor gradually died away and 
 we entered upon another region, totally de- 
 nuded of life and of the means of life ; a zone 
 of silence and solitude interposed between 
 the dangerous riot of barbarism and the se- 
 vere regularity of the legions. Far within 
 this circle we reached the Roman camp ; the 
 world of disciplined war. 
 
 The setting sun threw his flame on the long 
 vistas of shield and helmet drawn out, ac- 
 cording to custom, for the hour of exercise 
 before nightfall. The tribunes were on horse- 
 back in front of the cohorts, putting them 
 through that boundless variety of admirable 
 movements, in which no soldiery were so 
 dexterous as those of Rome. But all was 
 done with characteristic silence. No sound 
 was heard but the measured tramp of the 
 manoeuvre, and the voice of the tribune. 
 The sight was at once absorbing to the eye 
 of one, like me, an enthusiast in soldiership, 
 and appalling to the lover of his country. 
 Before me was the great machine, the resist- 
 less, living energy, that had levelled the 
 strength of the most renowned 1 kingdoms. 
 With the feeling of a man who sees the 
 tempest at hand ; in the immediate terror of 
 the bolt, I could yet gaze with wonder and 
 admiration at the grandeur of the thunder 
 cloud. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 133 
 
 Before me was at once the perfection of 
 power and the perfection of discipline. Here 
 were no rambling crowds of retainers, no 
 hurryings of troops startled by sudden attack, 
 no military clamors. All was calm, regular, 
 and grand. In a country, the seat of the 
 most furious war ever waged, I might have 
 thought that I saw but a summer camp in an 
 Italian plain. 
 
 As the night fell, the legions saluted the part- 
 ing sun with homage, according to a custom 
 which they had learned in their eastern cam- 
 paigns. Sounds, less of war than of worship, 
 arose; flutes breathed in low and dulcet har- 
 mohies from the lines; and this iron sol- 
 diery, bound on the business of extermination, 
 moved to their tents in the midst of strains 
 made to warp the heart in softness and so- 
 lemnity. 
 
 I awoke at sun-rise. But was I in a land 
 of enchantment! I looked for the immense 
 camp ; — it had vanished. A few soldies col- 
 lecting the prisoners sleeping about the field 
 were all that remained of an army. Our 
 guard explained the wonder. An attack on 
 the trenches, in which the besiegers had been 
 driven in with serious loss, had determined 
 Titus to bring up his whole force. The troops 
 moved with that habitual silence which elud- 
 ed almost the waking ear. They were now 
 beyond the hills, and the hour was come at 
 which the prisoners were ordered to follow 
 them. 
 
 But where was the daughter of Ananus! 
 I had placed her in a tent with some captive 
 females of our nation. The tent was struck, 
 and its inmates were gone. On the spot 
 where it stood, a flock of sheep were already 
 grazing, with a Roman soldier leaning drow- 
 sily on his spear for their shepherd. 
 
 To what alarms might not this fair girl be 
 exposed 1 Dubious and distressed, I followed 
 the guard in the hope of discovering the fate 
 of an innocent and lovely child, who seemed, 
 like myself, marked for misfortune. 
 
 In this march we went almost the whole 
 circuit of the hills surrounding Jerusalem : 
 and I thus had for three days the opportunity 
 that I longed for, of seeing the nature of the 
 force with which we were to contend. The 
 troops were admirably armed. There was 
 nothing for superfluity ; yet those who con- 
 ceived the system, knew the value of show, 
 and the equipments of the officers were su- 
 perb. The helmets, cuirasses, and swords, 
 were frequently inlaid with the precious me- 
 tals; and the superior officers rode richly ca- 
 parisoned chargers, purchased at an enor- 
 mous price from the finest studs of Europe 
 and Asia. The common soldier was proud of 
 the brightness of his shield and helmet ; on 
 duty both were covered ; but on their festi- 
 
 vals the most cheering moment was when 
 the order was given to uncase their arms. 
 Then, nothing could be more beautiful than 
 the aspect of the legion. One stri kina' source 
 of its pomp was the multitude of banners; 
 every emblem that mythology could feign, 
 every animal, every memorial connected 
 with the history of soldership and.Rome, glit- 
 tered above the forest of spears ; gilded ser- 
 pents, wolves, lions, gods, genii, stars, dia- 
 dems, imperial busts, and the eagle para- 
 mount over all, were mingled with vanes of 
 purple and embroidery. The most showy 
 pageant of civil life was dull and colorless 
 to the crowded magnificence of the Roman 
 line. 
 
 Their system of manoeuvre gave this mag- 
 nificence its full development. With the 
 ancient armies the principle was the concen- 
 tration of force. All was done by impulse. 
 The figure by which the greatest weight 
 could be driven against the enemy’s ranks, 
 was the secret of victory. The subtlety of 
 Italian imagination, enlightened by Greek 
 science, and fertilized by the experience of 
 universal war, was occupied in the discovery ; 
 and the field exercise of the legions displayed 
 every form into which the troops could be 
 thrown. 
 
 The Romans always sought to fight pitch- 
 ed battles. They left the minor services to 
 their allies; and haughtily reserved them- 
 selves for the master-strokes by which em- 
 pires are lost or won. The humbler hostili- 
 ties, the obscure skirmishes and surprises, 
 they disdained ; observing that, while “ to 
 steal upon men was the work of a thief, and 
 to butcher them was the habit of a barbarian ; 
 to fight them was the act of a soldier.” 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 At the close of a weary day we reached 
 our final station, upon the hill Scopas, seven 
 furlongs from Jerusalem. Bitter memory 
 was busy with me there. From the spot on 
 which I flung myself in heaviness of heart, 
 ■huddled among a crowd of miserable captives, 
 , and wishing only that the evening gathering 
 ; over me might be my last, I had once looked 
 upon the army of the oppressors marching 
 into my toils, and exulted in the secure 
 | glories of myself and my country. 
 
 But the prospect now beneath the eye 
 showed only the fiery tract of invasion. The 
 pastoral beauty of the plain was utterly gone. 
 The innumerable garden-houses and summer 
 
134 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 dwellings of the Jewish nobles, gleaming in 
 every variety of graceful architecture, among 
 vineyards and depths of aromatic foliage, 
 were levelled to the ground; and the gar- 
 dens turned into a sandy waste, cut up by 
 trenches and-military works in every direc- 
 tion. In the midst rose the great Roman 
 rampart, which Titus, in despair of conquer- 
 ing the city by the svvord, drew round it, to 
 extinguish its last hope of provisions or rein- 
 forcements; a hideous boundary, within which 
 all was to be the sepulchre. 
 
 I saw Jerusalem only in her expiring 
 struggle. Others have given the history of 
 that most memorable siege. My knowledge 
 was limited to the last hideous days of an 
 existence long declining, and finally extin- 
 guished in horrors beyond the imagination of 
 man. 
 
 I knew her follies, her ingratitude, her 
 crimes ; but the love of the city of David was 
 deep in my soul ; her lofty privileges, the 
 proud memory of those who had made her 
 courts glorious, the sage, the soldier, and the 
 prophet, lights of the world, to which the 
 boasted illumination of the heathen was dark- 
 ness, filled my spirit with an immortal hom- 
 age. I loved her then, I love her still. 
 
 To mingle my blood with that of my per- 
 ishing country was the first wish of my 
 heart. But I was under the rigor of confine- 
 ment indicted on the Jewish prisoners. My 
 rank was known ; and while it produced of- 
 fers of new distinction from my captors, it 
 increased their vigilance. To every tempta- 
 tion I gave the same denial, and occupied 
 my hours in devices for escape. In the 
 meanwhile, I saw with terror that the wall 
 of circumvallation was closing : and that a 
 short period must place an impassable bar- 
 rier between me and the city. 
 
 After a day of anxious gazing on the pro- 
 gress of this wall of destiny, I was roused at 
 midnight by the roaring of one of those tem- 
 pests, which sometimes break in so fiercely 
 upon an eastern summer. The lightning 
 struck the old tower in which I was confined, 
 and I found myself riding upon a pile of 
 ruins. Escape in the midst of a Roman 
 camp, seemed as remote as ever. But the 
 storm which shook solid walls, made its way 
 at will among tents, and the whole encamp- 
 ment was broken up. A column of infantry 
 passed where I was extricating myself from 
 the ruins. They were going to reinforce 
 the troops in the trenches against the chance 
 of an attack during the tempest. I followed 
 them. The night was terrible. The light- 
 ning that blazed with frightful vividness, 
 and then left the sky to tenfold obscurity, 
 led us through the lines. The column was 
 too late, and it found the beseiged already 
 
 mounted upon the wall of circumvallation, 
 and flinging it down in huge fragments. 
 The assault and defence were alike despe- 
 rate. The night grew pitchy dark, and the 
 only evidence that men were around me, 
 was the clang of arms. 
 
 A sudden flash showed me that I had 
 reached the foot of the rampart. The be- 
 seiged, carried away by their native impetu- 
 osity, poured down in crowds. Their leader, 
 cheering them on, was struck by a lance and 
 fell. The sight rallied the enemy. I felt 
 that now or never was the moment for my 
 escape. I rushed in front, and called out 
 my name. At the voice the wounded leader 
 uttered a cry which I well knew. I caught 
 him from the ground. A gigantic centurion 
 darted forward, and grasped my robe. Em- 
 barrassed with my burden, I was on the 
 point of being dragged back ; the centurion’s 
 sword glittered over my head. With my 
 only weapon, a stone, 1 struck him a furious 
 blow on the forehead. The sword .fell from 
 his grasp ; I seized it, and keeping the rest 
 at bay, and in the midst of shouts from my 
 countrymen, leaped the trench, with the 
 nobler trophy in my arms. I had rescued 
 Constantius ! 
 
 Jerusalem was now verging on the last 
 horrors. I could scarcely find my way 
 through her ruins. The noble buildings were 
 destroyed by conflagration, or the assaults of 
 the various factions. The monuments of our 
 kings and tribes were lying in mutilation at 
 my feet. Every man of former eminence 
 was gone. Massacre and exile were the 
 masters of the higher ranks; and even the 
 accidental distinctions into which the hum- 
 bler in birth or opulence were thrown by the 
 few past years, involved a fearful purchase 
 of public hazard. Like men in an earthquake, 
 the elevation of each was only a sign to him 
 of the working of an irresistible principle of 
 ruin. But the most formidable characteristic 
 was the change wrought upon the popular 
 mind. 
 
 A single revolution may be a source of 
 public good. But a succession of great politi- 
 cal changes is fatal alike to public and pri- 
 vate virtues. The sense of honor dies, in 
 the fierce pressures of personal struggle. 
 Humanity dies, in the sight of hourly vio- 
 lences. Conscience dies, in the conflict 
 where personal safety is so often endangered, 
 that its preservation at length usurps the en- 
 tire mind. Religion dies, where the reli- 
 gious man is so often the victim of the un- 
 principled. Violence and vice are soon found 
 to be the natural instruments of triumph in a 
 war of the passions ; and the more relentless 
 atrocity carries the day, until selfishness, the 
 mother of treachery, rapine, and carnage, is 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 135 
 
 the paramount principle. Then the nation 
 perishes ; or is sent forth in madness and 
 misery, an object of terror and infection, to 
 propagate evil through the world. 
 
 The very features of the popular physiog- 
 nomy were changed. The natural vividness 
 of the countenance was there, but hardened 
 and clouded hy habitual ferocity. I was sur- 
 rounded by a multitude, in each of whom I 
 was compelled to see the assassin. The 
 keen eye scowled with cruelty ; the cheek 
 wore the alternate flush and paleness of des- 
 perate thoughts. The hurried gathering — 
 the quick quarrel — the loud blasphemy, told 
 me of the infuriate temper that had fallen, for 
 the last curse, on Jerusalem. Scarcely a 
 man passed me of whom I could not have 
 said “ There goes one from a murder, or to a 
 murder.” 
 
 But more open evidences startled me, ac- 
 customed as I was to scenes of military vio- 
 lence. I saw men stabbed in familiar greet- 
 ings in the streets; mansions set on fire and 
 burned in the face of day, with their inmates 
 screaming for help, and yet unhelped; hun- 
 dreds slain in rabble tumults, of which no 
 one knew the origin. The streets were cov- 
 ered with the wrecks of pillage; sumptuous 
 furniture, plundered from the mansions of the 
 great, and plundered for the mere love of 
 ruin, mingled with more hideous wrecks of 
 man — unburied bodies, and skeletons, left 
 to whiten in the blast, or to be torn by the 
 dogs. 
 
 Three factions divided Jerusalem, even 
 while the Roman battering-rams were shak- 
 ing her colossal towers. Three armies fought 
 night and day within the city, carrying on 
 the operations of war with more than civil 
 fury. Streets undermined, houses battered 
 down, granaries burned, wells poisoned, the 
 perpetual shower of death from the roofs, 
 made the external hostility trivial : and the 
 Romans required only patience to have 
 been bloodless masters of a city, which yet 
 they would have found only a tomb of its 
 people. 
 
 I wandered, an utter stranger, through 
 Jerusalem. All the familiar faces were gone. 
 At an early period of the war many of the 
 higher ranks, foreseeing the event, had left 
 the city ; at a later, my victory over Cestius, 
 by driving back the enemy, gave a free pas- 
 sage to a crowd of others. It was at that 
 time remarked that the chief fugitives were 
 Christians ; and a singular prophecy of their 
 Master was declared to be the warning of 
 their escape. It is certain that of his follow- 
 ers, including many even of our priests and j 
 learned men, scarcely one remained. They 
 declared that the evil menaced by the Divine j 
 Wisdom through Moses — (may he rest in 
 glory !) was come ; that the death of their 1 
 
 i Master was the consummating crime; and 
 | that, in the Romans, the nation “ of a strange 
 speech,” flying on “ eagle wings from the 
 ends of the earth,” was already commissioned 
 against a people stained with the blood of the 
 Messiah. 
 
 Fatally was the words of the great pro- 
 phet of Israel accomplished ; fearfully fell 
 the sword to smite away root and branch ; 
 solemnly, and by a hand which scorned the 
 strength of man, was the deluge of ruin let 
 loose against the throne of David. And still, 
 through almost two thousand years, the flood 
 of desolation is at the full ; no mountain-top 
 is seen rising; no spot is left clear for the 
 sole of the Jewish foot ; no dove returns with 
 the olive. Eternal King, shall this be for 
 ever ! Wilt thou utterly reject the children 
 of him whom thy right hand brought from 
 the land of the idolater ! Wilt thou forever 
 hide thy might from the tribes whom thy 
 servant Moses led through the burning wil- 
 derness! Wilt thou not bring back the 
 broken kingdom of thy servant Israel 1 Still 
 we wander in darkness, the tenants of a pri- 
 son whose walls we feel at every step ; the 
 j scoff of the idolater ; the captive of the infi- 
 del : have we not abided without king or 
 priest, or ephod or teraphim, many days, and 
 when are those days to be at an end ! 
 
 Yet, is not the deluge at last about to sub- 
 side ! Is not the trumpet at the lip to sum- 
 mon thy chosen; are not the broken tribes 
 now awaiting thy command to come from 
 the desert — from the sea — from the dungeon 
 — from the mine — like the light from dark- 
 ness! I gaze upon the stars, and think, 
 countless and glorious as they are, such shall 
 yet be thy multitude and thy splendor, peo- 
 ple of the undone ! The promise of the 
 King of kings is fulfilling ; and even now, 
 to my withered eyes, to my struggling pray- 
 er, to the deep agonies of a supplication that 
 no tongue can utter, there is a vision and an 
 answer. On my knees, worn by the flint, 
 I hear the midnight voice; and, weeping, 
 wait for the day that will come, though hea- 
 ven and earth should pass away. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Mv first object was to ascertain the fate 
 of my family. From Constantius I could learn 
 I nothing ; for the severity of his wound had re- 
 j duced him to such a state, that he recognized 
 | no one. I sat by him day after day, watching 
 with bitter solicitude for the return of his 
 ' senses. He raved continually of his wife, and 
 
^36 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 every other name that I loved. The affecting 
 eloquence of his appeals sometimes pi unged me 
 into the deepest depression ; sometimes drove 
 me out to seek relief from them even in the hor- 
 rors of the streets ; I was the most solitary of 
 men. In those melancholy wanderings, none 
 spoke to me ; I spoke to none. The kinsmen 
 whom I had left under the command of my brave 
 son, were slain or dispersed; and on the night 
 when I saw him battling with his native ardor, 
 the men whom he led to the foot of the ram- 
 part were an accidental band, excited by his 
 brilliant intrepidity to choose him at the in- 
 stant for their captain. In sorrow, indeed, had 
 I entered Jerusalem. 
 
 The devastation of the city was enormous 
 during its tumults. The great factions were 
 reduced to two; but in the struggle, a large 
 portion of the temple was burned. The 
 stately chambers of the priests were dust and 
 embers. The cloisters which encircled the 
 sanctuary were beaten down, or left naked to 
 the visitation of the seasons, which now, as 
 by the peculiar wrath of heaven, had assumed 
 a fierce and ominous inclemency. Tremen- 
 dous bursts of tempest shook the city ; and 
 the popular mind was kept in perpetual alarm 
 at the accidents which followed those storms. 
 Fires were constantly caused by the lightning; 
 deluges of rain flooded the streets, and falling 
 on the shattered roofs, increased the misery 
 of their famishing inhabitants; the keenest 
 severity of winter in the midst of spring, 
 added to the sufferings of a people doubly un- 
 provided to encounter it, by its unexpected- 
 ness, and by their necessary exposure on the 
 battlements and in the field. 
 
 Within the walls all bore the look of a 
 grave, and even that grave shaken by some 
 convulsion of nature. From the battlements 
 the sight was despair. The Roman camps 
 covered the hills, and we could see the sol- 
 diery sharpening the very lances that were to 
 drink our blood. The fires of their night- 
 watches lighted up the horizon round. At 
 every fire we could see our future slayers. — 
 We heard the sound of their trumpets and 
 their shouts; as the sheep in the fold might 
 hear the roaring of the lion and the tiger 
 ready to leap their feeble boundary. 
 
 Yet the valor of the people was never wea- 
 ried out. The wall, whose circle was to shut 
 us up from the help of man or the hope of es- 
 cape, was the grand object of attack and de- 
 fence; and, though thousands covered the 
 ground at its foot with their corpses, the Jew 
 was still ready to rush on the Roman spear. 
 This valor was spontaneous, for subordination 
 had long been at an end. The names of John 
 of Giscala and Simon, influential as they were 
 in the earlier periods of the war, had lost their 
 force in the civil fury and desperate pressures 
 of the siege. No leaders were acknowledged 
 
 but hatred of the enemy, iron fortitude, and a 
 determination not to survive the fall of Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 In this furious warfare I took my share with 
 die rest; handled the spear, and fought and 
 watched, without thinking of any distinction 
 of rank. My military experience, and the 
 personal strength which enabled me to render 
 prominent services in those desultory attacks, 
 often excited our warriors to offer me com- 
 mand : but ambition was dead within me. 
 
 I was one day sitting beside the bed of Con- 
 stantius, and bitterly absorbed in gazing on 
 what I thought the progress of death, when I 
 heard a universal outcry, more melancholy 
 than human voices seemed made to utter. — 
 My first thought was that the enemy had 
 forced the gates. I took down my sword, and 
 gloomily prepared to go out and die. I found 
 the streets filled with crowds hurrying for- 
 ward without apparent direction, but all ex- 
 hibiting a sorrow amounting to agony; wring- 
 ing their hands, beating their bosoms, tearing 
 their hair, and casting dust and ashes on their 
 heads. A large body of the priesthood came 
 rushing from the tertiple with loud lamenta- 
 tions. The Daily Sacrifice had ceased ! — 
 The perpetual offering, which twice a day 
 burned in testimonial of the sins and the ex- 
 piation of Israel, the peculiar homage of the 
 nation to heaven, was no more ! The siege 
 had extinguished the resources of the Tem- 
 ple; the victims could no longer be supplied, 
 and the people must perish without the power 
 of atonement. This was the final cutting off 
 — the declaration of the sentence — the seal 
 of the great condemnation. Jerusalem was 
 undone ! 
 
 Overpowered by this fatal sign, I was sadly 
 returning to my worse than solitary chamber ; 
 for there lay, speechless and powerless, the 
 noblest creature that breathed in Jerusalem : 
 yet a source of perpetual anxiety to me from 
 his utter helplessness, and the deep affection 
 which I bore him ; when I was driven aside 
 by a new torrent of the people, exclaiming — 
 “ The prophet ! the prophet ! woe to the city 
 of David !” 
 
 They rushed on in haggard multitudes ; and 
 in the midst of them came a mad fellow, 
 bounding and gesticulating with indescribable 
 wildness. His constant exclamation was — 
 “ Woe — woe — \Voe !” expressed in a tone that 
 searched the very heart. He stopped from 
 time to time, and flung out some denunciation 
 against the popular crimes, then recommenced 
 the cry of “ Woe !” and bounded forward 
 again. 
 
 He at length came opposite to where I 
 stood; and his features struck me as resem- 
 bling some that 1 had seen before. But they 
 were full of a strange impulse — the gran- 
 deur of inspiration, mingled with the animal 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 <>37 
 
 fierceness of frenzy. The eye shot fire un- 
 der the sharp and hollow brows ; the nostrils 
 contracted and opened like those of an angry 
 steed ; and every muscle of a singularly elas- 
 tic frame was quivering and exposed from trie 
 effects alike of mental violence and famine. 
 
 “Ho! Prince of Naphtali! we meet at 
 last !” was his exclamation : his countenance 
 fell ; and a tear gushed from lids that looked 
 incapable of human weakness. “ I found her, 
 my beauty, my bride ! She was in the dun- 
 geon. The seal-ring that I tore from that 
 villain’s finger was worth a mine of gold, for 
 it opened the gates of her prison. Come forth, 
 girl !” With these words he caught by the 
 hand, and led to me a pale creature, with the 
 traces of loveiiness, but evidently in the last 
 stage of mortal decay. She stood silent as a 
 statue. In compassion I took her hand, while 
 the multitude gathered round us in curiosity. 
 I now remembered Sabat the Ishmaelite, and 
 his story. 
 
 “ She is mad,” said Sabat, shaking his head 
 mournfully, and gazing on the fading form at 
 his side. “ Worlds would not restore her 
 senses. But there is a time for all things.” 
 He sighed, and cast his full eye on heaven. — 
 “ I watched her day and night,” he went on, 
 “till I grew mad too. But the world will 
 have an end, and then all will be well. Come, 
 wife, we must be going. To-night there are 
 strange things within the walls, and without 
 the walls. There will be feasting and mourn- 
 ing ; there will be blood and tears : then comes 
 the famine — then comes the fire — then the 
 sword; and then all is quiet again, and for- 
 ever ! But heaven is mighty. To-night there 
 will be wonders; watch well your walls, peo- 
 ple of the ruined city. To-night there will 
 be signs ; let no man sleep, but those that 
 sleep in the grave. Prince of Naphtali! — 
 have you too sworn, as I have, to die 7” He 
 lifted his meagre hand. 
 
 “Come, ye thunders; come, ye fires': ven- 
 geance cries from the sanctuary. Listen ! 
 undone people; listen! nation of sorrow, to 
 the trumpets of the ministers of wrath. Woe 
 — woe — woe !” 
 
 Pronouncing those words with a voice of 
 the most sonorous, yet melancholy power, he 
 > threw himself into a succession of strange 
 and fearful gestures ; then beckoning to the 
 female who submissively followed his steps, 
 i plunged away among the multitude. I heard 
 i the howl of “Woe — woe — woe!” long ech- 
 ! oed through the windings of the ruined streets; 
 i and thought that I heard the voice of the an- 
 : gel of desolation. 
 
 1 The seventeenth day of the month Tamuz, 
 
 . ever memorable in the sufferings of Israel, 
 
 ? was the last of the Daily Sacrifice. Sorrow 
 r. and fear were on the city; and the siler.ceof 
 i the night was broken by lamentation from the 
 
 multitude. I retired to my chamber of afflic- 
 tion, and busied myself in preparing for the 
 guard of the Temple, to withdraw my mind 
 ’ from the gloom that was beginning to master 
 me. Yet when I looked round the room, and 
 thought of what I had been, of the opulent 
 enjoyments of my palace, and of the beloved 
 faces that surrounded me there, 1 felt the sick- 
 ness of the heart. 
 
 The chilling air that blew through the di- 
 lapidated walls, the cruse of water, the scanty 
 bread, the glimmering lamp, the comfortless 
 and squallid bed, on which lay, in the last 
 stage of weakness, a patriot and a hero, — be- 
 ing full of fine affections and abilities, reduced 
 to the helplessness of an infant, and whom, in 
 leaving for the night, f might be leaving to 
 perish by the poniard of the robber, — un- 
 manned me. I cast the scimetar from my 
 hand, and sat down with a sullen determina- 
 tion there to linger until death, or that darker 
 vengeance which haunted me, should do its 
 will. 
 
 The night was stormy, and the wind rolled 
 in long and bitter gusts through the deserted 
 chambers of the huge mansion. But the 
 mind is the true place of suffering; and I felt 
 the season’s visitation in my locks drenched 
 about my face, and my tattered robes swept by 
 tne freezing blasts, as only the natural course 
 of things. 
 
 I was sitting by the bed-side, moistening 
 the fevered lips of Constantius with water, 
 and pressing on h im the last fragment of bread 
 which I might ever have to give, when I, with 
 sudden delight, heard him utter for the first 
 time articulate sounds. I stooped my ear to 
 catch accents so dear and full of hope. But 
 the words were a supplication. He prayed 
 to the Christian’s God ! 
 
 I turned away from this resistless conviction 
 of his belief. But this was no time for de- 
 bate, and I was won to listen again. His 
 voice was scarcely above a whisper, but his 
 language was the aspiration of a glowing 
 heart. His eves were closed ; and evidently 
 unconscious of my presence, in his high com- 
 munion with heaven, he talked of things of 
 which I had but imperfect knowledge, or 
 none ; of blond shed for the sins of man ; of a 
 descended Spirit to guard the path of the ser- 
 vants of heaven ; of the unspeakable love that 
 gave the Son of God to torture and mortal 
 death for the atonement of that human ini- 
 quity, which nothing but such a sacrifice could 
 atone. He named the names dear to us both ; 
 and praying “ for their safety, if they were 
 in life, or for their meeting beyond the grave, 
 resigned himself to the will of his Lord.” 
 
 I waited in sacred awe till I saw, by the 
 subsiding motion of the lips, that the inward 
 prayer which followed was done ; and then, 
 anxious to gain information of my family, 
 
138 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 questioned him. But, with the prayer, the 
 interval of mental power passed away. The 
 veil was drawn over his senses once more ; 
 and his answers were unintelligible. 
 
 Yet even the hope of his restoration light- 
 ened my gloom ; my spirits, naturally elastic, 
 shook off their leaden weight : I took up the 
 scimetar, and pressing the cold hand of my 
 noble fellow-being, prepared to issue forth to 
 the Temple. 
 
 The storm was partially gone; and the 
 moon, approaching to the full, was high in 
 heaven, fighting her way through masses of 
 rapid cloud. The wind still roared in long 
 blasts, as the tempest retired, like an army 
 repulsed and indignant at being driven from 
 the spoil. But the ground was deluged, and 
 a bitter sleet shot on our half-naked bodies. 
 I had far to pass through the streets of the 
 upper city ; and their aspect was deeply 
 suited to the melancholy of the hour. 
 
 Vast walls and buttresses of the burned 
 and overthrown mansions remained, that, in 
 the spectral light, looked like gigantic spec- 
 tres. Ranges of inferior ruins stretched to 
 the utmost glance; some yet sending up the 
 smoke of recent conflagration, and others 
 beaten down by the storms, or left to decay. 
 The immense buildings of the chieftains, 
 once the scenes of all but kingly magnifi- 
 cence, stood roofless and windowless, with the 
 light sadly gleaming through their fissures, 
 and the wind singing a dirge of ruin through 
 their lifeless halls. I scarcely met a human 
 being, for the sword and famine had fearfully 
 reduced the once countless population. 
 
 But I sometimes startled a flight of vul- 
 tures from their meal; or, in the sinking of 
 the light, stumbled upon a heap that uttered 
 a cry, and showed that life was there; or, 
 from his horrid morsel, a wretch glared upon 
 me, as one wolf might glare upon another) 
 that came to rob him of his prey; or, the, 
 twinkling of a miserable lamp, in the corner . 
 of a ruin, glimmered over a knot of felony; 
 
 and murder, reckoning their hideous gains, 
 and carousing and quarrelling with the dag- 
 ger drawn. Heaps of bones, whitening in the 
 air, were the monuments of the wasted valor 
 of my countrymen ; and the oppressive at- 
 mosphere gave the sensation of walking in a 
 sepulchre. 
 
 I dragged on my limbs, with increased 
 difficulty, through those long avenues of mis- 
 ery and death ; that, black, silent, and split 
 into a thousand shapes of ruin, looked less 
 like the streets of a city, than the rocky de- 
 files of a mountain shattered by lightnings 
 and earthquakes. But we were strong in 
 that dreary strength which man derives from 
 excess of calamity. Mental and bodily suf- 
 fering seemed to have done their worst. 
 Within the city there was not sustenance for 
 the tenth part of even its reduced population 
 for a week to come : our armories were ex- 
 hausted — our bodies naked — our limbs with- 
 ered by perpetual wounds and watching. I 
 should have welcomed the assault which 
 closed this lamentable struggle against im- 
 possibilities. 
 
 On the summit of the hill I found a crowd 
 of unhappy beings, who came, like myself, 
 actuated by zeal to defend the Temple from 
 the insults to which its sanctity was now j 
 nightly exposed. Faction had long extin- I 
 guished the native homage of the people. 
 Battles had been fought within its walls, and 
 many a corpse loaded the sacred floors, that 
 once would have required solemn ceremonies 
 to free them from the pollution of an unli- 
 censed step. 
 
 And what a band were assembled there! 
 Wretches mutilated by wounds, worn with 
 sleeplessness, haggard with want of food; 
 shivering together on the declivity, whose 
 naked elevation exposed them to the whole 
 inclemency of the night; flung, like the 
 dead, on the ground, or gathered in little 
 knots among the ruined porticoes, with 
 death in every frame, and despair in every 
 heart. 
 
The Downfall of Jerusalem. 
 
 139 
 
 ,| 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 ,1 
 
 # * # # # 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 * # * * * 
 
 I was sheltering myself behind the broken 
 columns of the Grand gate, from the bitter 
 wind which searched every fibre; and wassink- 
 ing into that chilling torpor which benumbs 
 body and mind alike; when a clash of milita- 
 ry music and the tramp of a multitude assailed 
 my ear. I started up, and found my misera- 
 ble companions mustering from the various 
 hollows of the hill to our post on the central 
 ground of Mount Moriah, where the view was 
 boundless on every side. A growing blaze 
 rose up from the valley, and flashed upon the 
 wall ofcircumvallation. The sounds of cym- 
 bal and trumpet swelled : the blaze advanced 
 rapidly; and going the circuit of the wall, 
 the helmets and lances of the cavalry were 
 seen glittering through the gloom: a crowd 
 of archers preceded a dense body of the le- 
 gionary horse, at whose head rode the Roman 
 general and his chief officers. On this night 
 the fatal wall had been completed, and Titus 
 was going its round in triumph. Every horse- 
 man carried'a torch; and strong divisions of 
 infantry followed, bearing lamps and vessels 
 of combustible matter on the points of their 
 spears. As the whole moved, rolling and 
 bending with the inequalities of the ground, 
 I thought that I saw a mighty serpent coiling 
 his burning spires round the prey that was 
 never to be rescued by the power of man. 
 
 But the pomp of war below, and the wretch- 
 edness around, raised reflections of such bitter- 
 ness, that, when Titus and his splendid troop 
 reached the foot of the Temple-hill, one out- 
 cry of sorrow and anticipated ruin burst from 
 us all. The conqueror heard it, and, from 
 the instant manoeuvring of his troops, was 
 evidently alarmed ; he had known the courage 
 of the Jews too long, not to dread the effects 
 of their despair. 
 
 And despair it was, fierce and untameable! 
 I started forward, exclaiming, “If there is a 
 man among you ready to stake his life for his 
 country, let him follow me.” 
 
 To the last hour the Jew was a warrior. 
 The crowd grasped their spears, and we 
 sprang down the cliffs. As we reached the 
 outer wall of the city, I restrained their ex- 
 haustless spirit, until I had singly ascertained 
 the state of the enemy. Titus was passing 
 the well known ravine near the Fountain-gate, 
 where the ground was difficult for cavalry, 
 from its being chiefly divided into gardens. — 
 I threw open the gate, and led the way to 
 tne cireumvallation. The sentinels, occupied 
 with looking on the pomp, suffered us to ap- 
 proach unperceived ; we mounted the wall, 
 10 
 
 overthrew every thing before us, and plunged 
 down upon the cavalry entangled in the ra- 
 vine. 
 
 The bravery of the legions was not proof 
 against the fury of our attack. Even our 
 wild faces and naked forms, seen by the un- 
 certain glare of the torches, looked scarcely 
 human. Horse and man were rolled down 
 the declivity; the arrival of fresh troops only 
 increased the confusion ; their torches made 
 them a mark for our pikes and arrows; every 
 point told ; and every Roman that fell, armed 
 a Jew. The conflict became murderous: and 
 we stabbed at our ease the troopers of the 
 Emperor’s guard, through their mail, while 
 their long lances^ivere useless. 
 
 The defile gave us incalculable advantages; 
 for the garden walls were impassable by the 
 cavalry, while we bounded over them like 
 deer. All was uproar, terror, and rage. We 
 actually waded through blood. At every 
 step I trod on horse or man; helmets and 
 bucklers, lances and armor, lay in heaps; the 
 stream of the ravine soon ran purple with the 
 proudest gore of the prond legions. 
 
 At length, while we were absolutely op- 
 pressed with the multitude of dead, a sudden 
 blast of trumpets, and the loud shouts of the en- 
 emy, led me to prepare fora still fiercer effort. 
 A tide of cavalry poured over theground; a gal- 
 lant figure, cheering them on, with his helmet 
 in his hand, galloped in their front; I withdrew 
 my wearied followers from the exposed situa- 
 tion into which their success had led them, 
 and, posting them behind a rampart of Ro- 
 man dead, awaited the charge. 
 
 It came with the force of thunder; the 
 powerful horses of the imperial escort broke 
 over our rampart at the first shock, and bore 
 us down like stubble. Every man of us was 
 under their feet in a moment; yet the very 
 number of our assailants saved us: the narrow- 
 ness of the place gave no room for the man- 
 agement of the horse; the darkness assisted 
 both our escape and assault; and, even lying 
 on the ground, we plunged our knives in horse 
 and rider with terrible retaliation. 
 
 The cavalry at length gave way; but the 
 Roman general, a man of the heroic spirit 
 that is only inflamed by repulse, rushed forward 
 among the disheartened troops, and roused 
 them °by his cries and gestures, to retrieve 
 their honor. After a few bold words, he 
 charged at their head. I singled him out, as 
 I saw his golden eagle gleam in the torch- 
 light. To capture the son of Vespasian, 
 would have been a triumph worth a hundred 
 lives. Titus was celebrated for personal dex- 
 terity in the management of the horse and 
 lance: and I could not restrain my admiration 
 of the skill with which he penetrated the dif- 
 ficulties of the field, and the mastery with 
 
The Downfall of Jerusalem. 
 
 which he repelled or overthrew all that op- 
 posed him. 
 
 Our motley ranks were already' scattering; 
 when I called out my name, and defied him 
 to the combat. He stooped over his charger’s 
 neck to discover his adversary ; and, seeing 
 before him a being as blackened and beggared 
 as the most dismantled figure of the crowd, 
 gave a laugh of fierce derision, and was turn- 
 ing away, when our roar of scorn recalled him. 
 He struck in the spur, and, couching his lance, 
 he bounded towards me. To have waited his 
 attack must have been destruction ; I sprang 
 aside, and with my full vigor flung the javelin : 
 it went through his buckler. He reeled ; and a 
 groan arose from the legionaries, who were 
 rushing forward to his support : he stopped 
 them with a fierce gesture, and, casting off 
 the entangled buckler, charged again. But 
 the hope of the imperial diadem was not to be 
 thus cheaply hazarded. The whole circle of 
 cavalry rolled in upon us ; I was dragged down 
 by an hundred hands ; and Titus was forced 
 away, indignant at the zeal which thwarted 
 his fiery valor. 
 
 In the confusion I was forgotten, slipped 
 through the concourse, and rejoined my coun- 
 trymen, who had given me over for lost, and 
 now received me with shouts of victory. The 
 universal cry was to advance ; but I felt that 
 the limit of triumph for that night was come : 
 the engagement had became known to the 
 whole range of the enemy’s camps, and troops 
 without number were already pouring down. 
 I ordered a retreat ; but there was one remain- 
 ing exploit to make the night’s service mem- 
 orable. 
 
 Leaving a few hundred pikemen outside 
 the circumvallation to keep off any sudden 
 attempt, I set every hand at work to gather 
 the dry weeds, rushes, and fragments of trees, 
 from the low grounds into a pile. It was l»id 
 against the rampart. I flung the first torch, 
 and pile and rampart were soon alike in a 
 blaze. Volumes of flames carried by the wind, 
 rolled round its entire circuit 
 
 The Romans rushed down in multitudes to 
 extinguish the fire. But this became contin- 
 ually more difficult. Jerusalem had been 
 roused from its sleep; and the extravagant 
 rumors that a great victory was obtained, Ti- 
 tus slain, and the enemy’s camp taken by 
 storm, stimulated the natural spirit of the 
 people to the most boundless confidence. Ev- 
 ery Jew who could find a lance, an arrow, or 
 a knife, hurried to the gates ; and the space 
 between the walls and the circumvallation 
 was crowded with an army, which, in that 
 crisis of superhuman exultation, perhaps no 
 disciplined force on earth could have out- 
 fought. 
 
 Nothing could now save the rampart. — 
 Torches innumerable, piles of faggots, arms, 
 
 even the dead, all things that could burn, 
 were flung upon it. Thousands who, at 
 other times might have shrunk, forgot the 
 name of fear, leaped into the very midst of 
 the flames, and, tearing up the blazing tim- 
 bers, dug to the heart of the rampart, and 
 filled the hollows with sulphur and bitumen ; 
 or struggled their way across the tumbling 
 ruins, to throw themselves among the Ro- 
 man spearmen, and see the blood of an ene- 
 my before they died. 
 
 War never had a bolder moment. Human 
 nature, roused to the wildest height of enthu- 
 siasm, was lavishing life like dust. The ram- 
 part spread a horrid light upon the havoc : 
 every spot of the battle, every group of the 
 furious living, and the trampled and deformed 
 dead, was keenly visible. The ear was deaf- 
 ened by the incessant roar of flame, ttfe fall- 
 ing of the huge heaps of the rampart, and the 
 agonies and exultations of men reveling in 
 mutual slaughter. 
 
 In that hour came on one of those solemn 
 signs that marked the downfall of Jerusalem. 
 
 The tempest, that had blown at intervals 
 with tremendous violence, diedaway at once ; 
 and a surge of light ascended from the hori- 
 zon, and rolled up rapidly to the zenith. The 
 phenomenon instantly fixed every eye. There . 
 was an indefinable sense in the general mind 
 that a sign of power and Providence was 
 about to be given. The battle ceased; the 
 outcries were followed by utter silence ; the 
 armed ranks stood still, in the very act of 
 rushing on each other : all faces were turned 
 on the heavens. 
 
 The light rose pale and quivering, like the 
 meteors of a summer evening. But in the 
 zenith it spread and swelled into a splendor, 
 that distinguished it irresistibly from the won- 
 ders of earth or air. It swiftly eclipsed every 
 star. The moon vanished before it ; the can- 
 opy of the sky seemed to be dissolved, for a 
 view into a bright and infinite region beyond, 
 fit for the career of those mighty beings to 
 whom man is but a feather on the gale. 
 
 As we gazed, this boundless field was trans- 
 formed into a field of battle ; multitudes 
 poured across it in the fiercest convulsions 
 of combat ; horsemen charged, and died under 
 their horses’ feet ; armor and standards were 
 trampled in blood ; column and line burst 
 through each other. At length the battle 
 stooped towards the earth ; and, with hearts 
 beating with indescribable feelings, we recog- 
 nized in the fight the banners of the tribes. 
 
 It was Jew and Roman struggling for life; 
 the very countenances of the combatants be- 
 came visible, an each man below saw a 
 representative of himself and his fortunes 
 above. The fate of Jewish war was there 
 written by the hand of Heaven ; the fate of 
 the individual was there predicted in the in- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 141 
 
 dividual triumph or fall. What thought of 
 man can conceive the intense interest with 
 which we watched every blow, every move- 
 ment, every wound of those images of our- 
 selves 1 
 
 The light illuminated the whole horizon 
 below. The legions were seen drawn out in 
 front of the camps ready for action; every 
 helmet and spear-point glittering in the radi- 
 ance ; every face turned up, gazing in awe 
 and terror on the sky. The tents spreading 
 over the hills; the thousands and the tens of 
 thousands of auxiliaries and captives; the 
 little groups of the peasantry roused from 
 sleep by the uproar of the night, and gathered 
 upon the knolls' and eminences of their 
 fields ; all were bathed in a flood of preter- 
 natural lustre. 
 
 But the wohderous battle approached its 
 close. The visionary Romans shook; col- 
 umn and cohort gave way, and the banners 
 of the tribes waved in victory over the field. 
 Then, first, human voices dared to be heard. 
 Prom the city and the plain burst forth one 
 mighty shout of triumph. 
 
 But our presumption was to be soon check- 
 ed. A peal of thunder that made»the very 
 ground tremble under our feet, rolled from 
 the four quarters of the heaven. The con- 
 quering host shook, broke, and fled in utter 
 confusion over the sapphire field. It was 
 pursued ; but by no semblance of the Roman. 
 An awful enemy was on its steps. Flashes 
 of forked fire, like myriads of lances, darted 
 after it; cloud on cloud deepened down, as 
 the smoke of a mighty furnace; globes of 
 light shot blasting and burning along its 
 track. Then, amid the doubled roar of thun- 
 der, rushed forth the chivalry of Heaven ; 
 shapes of transcendent beauty, yet with looks 
 of wrath that withered the human eye ; arm- 
 ed sons of immortality descended on the 
 wing by millions ; mingled with shapes and 
 instruments of ruin, for which the mind has 
 no conception. The circle of the heaven 
 was filled with the chariots and horses of 
 fire. Flight was in vain : the weapons were 
 soon to drop from the Jewish host: their 
 warriors sank upon the splendid field. Still 
 the immortal armies poured on, trampling 
 and blasting, until the last of the routed was 
 consumed. 
 
 The angry pomp then paused. Countless 
 wings were spread, and the angelic multi- 
 tude, having done the work of vengeance, 
 rushed upward with the sound of ocean in 
 the storm. The roar of trumpets and thun- 
 ders was heard until the splendor was lost in 
 
 .e heights of the empyrean. 
 
 W e felt the terrible warning. Our strength I 
 
 was dried up at the sight; despair seized 
 upon our souls. We had now seen the fate 
 of Jerusalem. No victory over man could 
 save us from the coming of final ruin. Thou- 
 sands never left the ground on which they 
 stood ; they perished by their own hands, or 
 lay down and died of broken hearts. The 
 rest fled through the night, that again wrap- 
 ped them in tenfold darkness. The wholo 
 multitude scattered away, with soundless 
 steps and in silence like an army of spec- 
 tres. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI1I. 
 
 In the deepest dejection that could over- 
 whelm the human mind I returned to the 
 city, where one melancholy care still bound 
 me to existence. 1 hastened to my comfort- 
 less home ; but the battle had fluctuated so 
 far round the walls, that I found myself per- 
 plexed among the ruins of. a portion of the 
 lower city, a crowd of obscure streets which 
 belonged almost wholly to strangers and the 
 poorer population. 
 
 The faction of John of Giscala, composed 
 chiefly of the more profligate and beggared 
 class, had made the lower city their strong- 
 hold, before they became masters of Mount 
 Moriah ; and some desperate skirmishes, of 
 which conflagrations were the perpetual con- 
 sequence, laid waste the principal part of a 
 district built and kept up with the haste and 
 carelessness of poverty. To find a guide 
 through this scene of dilapidation was hope- 
 less, for every living creature, terrified by 
 the awful portents of the sky, had now fled 
 from the streets. The night was solid dark- 
 ness. No expiring gleam from the burnt 
 rampart, no fires of the Roman camps, no 
 lamp on the Jewish battlements, broke the 
 pitchy blackness. Life and light seemed to 
 have perished together. 
 
 To proceed, soon became impossible ; and 
 I had no other resource than to wait the com- 
 ing of day. But one accustomed as I was to 
 hardships, this inconvenience was trivial. I 
 felt my way along the walls to the entrance 
 of a house that promised some protection from 
 the night, and, flinging myself into a corner, 
 vainly tried to slumber. But the rising of the 
 storm, and the rain pouring upon my lair, drove 
 me to sepk a more sheltered spot within the 
 ruin. The destruction was so effectual, that 
 
142 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 this was difficult to discover, and I was hope- 
 lessly returning to take my chance in the 
 open air, when I discovered the glimmer of a 
 lamp through a crevice in the upper part of i 
 the building. My first impulse was to ap- 
 proach and obtain assistance. But the ab- 
 ruptness of the ascent gave me time to con- 
 sider the hazard of breaking in upon such 
 groups as might be gathered at that hour, in 
 a period when every atrocity under heaven 
 eigned in Jerusalem. 
 
 My patience was put to but brief trial ; for 
 in a few minutes, I heard a low hymn. It 
 paused, as if followed by prayer. The hymn | 
 began again, in accents so faint, as evidently 
 to express the fear of the worshippers. But | 
 the sound thrilled through my soul. I lis- 
 tened in a struggleof doubt and hope. Could 
 I be deceived] and, if I were, how bitter 
 must be the discovery ! I sat down on the 
 foot of the rude stair, to feed myself with the 
 fancied delight, before it should be snatched 
 from me forever. 
 
 But my perturbation would have risen to 
 madness, had I stopped longer. I climbed up 
 the tottering steps; half-way I found my- 
 self obstructed by a door; I struck upon it, 
 and called aloud. After an interval of mise- 
 rable delay, a still higher door was opened, 
 and a figure, disguised in a mantle, trem- 
 blingly looked out, and demanded my pur- 
 pose. I saw, glancing over her, two faces, 
 that 1 would have given the world to see. 1 1 
 called out “Miriam!” Overpowered with 
 emotion, my speech failed me. I lived only in 
 my eyes. I saw Miriam fling off the mantle 
 with a scream of joy, and rush down the steps. 
 
 I saw my two daughters follow her with the 
 speed of love : the door was thrown back, and 
 I fell fainting into their arms. 
 
 Tears, exclamations, and gazings, were 
 long our only language. My wife flung her 
 arms round me, and hung over my wasted | 
 frame with endless embraces and sobs of joy. 
 My daughters fell at my feet, bathed my cold 
 hands with tneir tears, smiled on me in 
 speechless delight, and then wept again. — 
 They had thought me lost to them forever. I 
 had thought them dead, or driven to some 
 solitude which forbade us to meet again on 
 this side of the grave. For two years, two 
 drdadful years, a lonely man on earth, a wife- 
 less husband, a childless father, tried by every 
 misery of mind and body; here, here I found 
 my treasure once more. On this spot, wretch- 
 ed and destitute as it was, in the midst of 
 public misery and personal woe, I had found 
 those whose loss would have made the riches 
 of mankind beggary to me. My soul over- 1 
 flowed. Words were not to tell the feverish 
 fondness, the strong delight that quivered ! 
 through me : I wept with woman’s weakness ; 1 
 £ held my wife and children at arm’s length, 
 
 that I might enjoy the full happiness of gazing 
 on them ; then my eyes would grow dim, and 
 1 caught them to my heart, and in silence, the 
 silence of unspeakable emotion, tried to col- 
 lect my thoughts, and to convince myself that 
 my joy was no dream. 
 
 The night p issed in mutual inquiries. The 
 career of my family had been deeply diver- 
 sified. On my capture in the great battle 
 with Cestius, in which it was conceived that 
 I had fallen, they were on the point of com- 
 ing to Jerusalem to ascertain their misfortune. 
 The advance of the Romans to Masada pre- 
 cluded this. They sailed for Alexandria, 
 and were overtaken by a storm. 
 
 “In that storm,” said Miriam, with terror 
 painted on her countenance, “ we saw a sight 
 that appalled the firmest heart among us, 
 and to this hour recalls horrid images. The 
 night had fallen intensely dark. Our vessel, 
 laboring through the tempest during the day, 
 and greatly shattered, was expected to go down 
 before morn, and I had come upon the deck 
 prepared to submit to the general fate; when 
 [ saw a flame upon the horizon. I pointed it 
 out to the mariners; but they were paralyzed 
 by weariness and fear; and instead of ap- 
 proaching what I conceived to be a beacon, 
 they let the vessel drive before the wind. I 
 watched the light; to my astonishment I saw 
 it advancing over the waves. It was a large 
 ship on fire, and rushing down upon us. Then 
 indeed there was no insensibility in our mari- 
 ners; they were like mad men throngh ex- 
 cess of fear; they did every thing but make 
 a resolute effort to escape the danger. 
 
 “ The blazing ship came towards us with 
 terrific rapidity. As it approached, the figure 
 of a man was seen on the deck, standing un- 
 hurt in the midst of the burning. The Syrian 
 pilot, hitherto the boldest of our crew, at this 
 sight, cast the helm from his hands in despair, 
 and tore his beard, exclaiming, that we were 
 undone. To our questions he would give no 
 other answer than pointing to the solitary 
 being who stood calmly in the centre of con- 
 flagration, more like a demon than a man. 
 
 “ I proposed that we should make some 
 efforts to rescue this unfortunate man. But 
 the pilot was horror-struck at the thought, 
 and then gave up the tale, that it cost him 
 agonies even to utter. He fold us that the 
 being whom our frantic compassion would at- 
 tempt to save, was an accursed thing; that 
 for some crime too inexpiable to allow of 
 his remaining among creatures capable of 
 hope, he was cast out from men, stricken into 
 the nature of the condemned spirits, and sen- 
 tenced to rove the ocean in fire, ever burning, 
 and never consumed !” 
 
 I felt every word, as if that fire were de- 
 vouring my flesh. The sense of what I was, 
 and what I must be, was poison. My head swam; 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 143 
 
 mortal pain overwhelmed me. And this ab- 
 horred thing I was ; this sentenced and fear- 1 
 ful wretch I was, covered with wrath and 
 shame, the exile from human nature : and I j 
 heard my sentence pronounced, and my exis- 
 tence declared hideous, by the lips on which ; 
 I hung for confidence and consolation against 
 the world. 
 
 Flinging my mantle over my face to hide 
 its writhings, 1 seemed to listen ; but my 
 ears refused to hear. In my perturbation, I 
 once thought of boldly avowing the truth, 
 and thus freeing myself from the pang of per- 
 petual concealment. But the offence and the 
 retribution were too real and too deadly, to 
 be disclosed, without destroying the last 
 chance of happiness to those innocent suffer- 
 ers. I mastered the convulsion, and again 
 bent my ear. 
 
 “ Our story exhausts you,” said Miriam ; 
 “ but it is done. After a long pursuit, in which 
 the burning ship followed us, as if with the 
 express purpose of our ruin ; we were snatch- 
 ed from a death by fire, only to undergo the 
 chance of one by the waves; for we struck 
 upon a rock. Yet it may have been owing! 
 even to that chase that we were saved. The l 
 ship had driven us towards land. At sea we 
 must have perished ; but the shore was found 
 to be so near, that the country people, guided 
 by the flame, saved us without the loss of a 
 life. Once on shore, we met with some of 
 th^fugitives from Masada, who brought us 
 to Jerusalem, the only remaining refuge for 
 our unhappy nation.” 
 
 To prevent a recurrence of this torturing, 
 subject, I mastered my emotion so far as to 
 ask some questions of their means of support 
 during the seige. But Miriam’s thoughts 
 were still busy with the sea. After some 
 hesitation, and as if she dreaded the answer, 
 she said ; “ One extraordinary circumstance 
 made me take a strong interest in the fate of - ; 
 that solitary being on board the burning vessel, j 
 It once seemed to have the most striking like- 
 ness to you. I even cried out to you under that 
 impression ; but fortunate it was for us all that 
 my heedless cry was not answered ; for, when 
 it approached us, I could see its countenance 
 change ; it threw a sheet of flame across our 
 vessel that almost scorched us to death ; and 
 then, perhaps thinking thatour destruction was 
 complete, the human fiend ascended from the 
 waters in a pillar of intense fire.” 
 
 I felt deep pain in this romantic narrative. 
 
 I My mysterious sentence was the common 
 talk of mankind ! My frightful secret, that 
 I had thought locked up in my own heart, 
 was loose as the air ! This was enough to 
 make life bitter. But, to be identified in the 
 minds of my family with the object of univer- j 
 sal horror, was a chance which I determined 
 not to contemplate. My secret there was 
 still safe ; and my resolution became fixed, ! 
 
 never to destroy that safety by any frantic 
 confidence of my own. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 W hile, with my head bent on my knees, 
 I hung in the misery of self-abhorrence, I 
 heard the name of Constantius sorrowfully 
 pronounced beside me. The state in which 
 he must be left by my long absence flashed 
 upon my mind ; I threw back the mantle, 
 and saw Salome. It was her voice that 
 wept ; and I then first observed the work of 
 woe in her form and features. She was al- 
 most a shadow ; her eye was lustreless, and 
 the hands that she clasped in silent prayer 
 were reduced to the bone. But before I 
 could speak, Miriam made a sign of silence 
 to me, and led the mourner away ; then re- 
 turning, said, “I dreaded lest you might 
 make any inquiries before Salome for her 
 husband. Religion alone has kept her from 
 the grave. On our arrival here we found 
 our noble Constantius worn out by the fa- 
 tigue of the time ; but he was our guardian 
 spirit in the dreadful tumults of the city. 
 When we were burned out of one asylum, 
 he led us to another. It is but a week since 
 he placed us in this melancholy spot, but yet 
 the more secure and unknown. He himself 
 brought us provisions, supplied us with every 
 comfort that could be obtained by his impov- 
 erished means, and saved us from want. But 
 now,” — the tears gushed from her eyes, and 
 she could not proceed. 
 
 “ Yes — now,” said I, “ he is a sight that 
 would shock the eye; we must keep Salome 
 in ignorance, as long as we can.” 
 
 “ The unhappy girl knows his fate but too 
 well. He left us a few days since, to obtain 
 some intelligence of the seige. We sat dur- 
 ing the night, listening to the frightful sounds 
 of battle. At day-break, unable any longer to 
 bear the suspense, or sit looking at Salome’s 
 wretchedness, I ventured to the Fountain-gate, 
 and there heard what I so bitterly anticipated 
 — our brave Constantius was slain!” 
 
 She wept aloud ; and sobs and cries of ir- 
 repressible anguish answered her from the 
 chamber of my unhappy child. 
 
 The danger of a too sudden discovery pre- 
 vented me from drying those tears; and I could 
 proceed only by offering conjectures on the 
 various chances of battle, the possibility of his 
 being made prisoner, and the general difficulty 
 of ascertaining the fates of men in the irregu- 
 lar combats of a populace. But Salome sat fix- 
 ed in cold incredulity. Esther sorrowfully 
 kissed my hand for the disposition to give them 
 a ray of comfort; Miriam gazed on me with a 
 | sad and searching look, as if she felt that I would 
 not tamper with their distresses, yet was deep- 
 ly perplexed for the issue. 
 
 At last the delay grew painful to myself; 
 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 and taking Saiume to my arms, and pressing 
 a kiss of parental love on her pale cheek, I 
 whispered, “he lives.” 
 
 I was overwhelmed with transports and 
 thanksgivings. Precaution was at an end. — 
 If battle were raging in the streets, I could 
 not now have restrained the generous impa- 
 tience of friendship and love. We left the 
 tower. There was not much to leave, besides 
 the walls ; but such as it was, the first fugitive 
 was welcome to the possession. Night was 
 still within the building, which had belonged 
 to some of the Roman officers of state, and 
 was massive and of great extent. But at the 
 threshold, the grey dawn came quivering over 
 the Mount of Olives. 
 
 We struggled through the long and wind- 
 ing streets, which even in the fight were 
 nearly impassable. From the inhabitants we 
 met with no impediment; a few haggard and 
 fierce-looking men stared at us from the ru- 
 ins ; but we, wrapped up in rude mantles, and 
 hurrying along, wore too much the livery of 
 despair, to be disturbed by our fellows in 
 wretchedness. 
 
 With a trembling heart I led the way to 
 the chamber, where lay one, in whose life 
 our general happiness was centred. Fearful 
 of the shock which our sudden appearance 
 might give his enfeebled frame, and not less 
 of the misery with which he must be seen, I 
 advanced alone to the bedside. He gave no 
 sign of recognition, though he was evidently 
 awake ; and I was about to close the curtains, 
 and keep at least Salome from the hazardous 
 sight of this living ruin, when I found her 
 beside me. She took his hand, and set-down 
 on the bed with her eyes fixed on his hollow 
 features. She spoke not a word, but sat cher- 
 ishing the wasted hand in her own, and kiss- 
 ing it with sad fondness. Her grief was too 
 sacred for our interference ; and in sorrow 
 scarcely less poignant than her own, I led 
 apart Miriam and Esther, who, like me, be- 
 lieved lhat the parting day was come. 
 
 Such rude help as could be found in medi- 
 cine, — at a time when our men of science had 
 fled the city, and a few herbs were the only 
 resource, — had not been neglected even in 
 my distraction. But life seemed retiring hour 
 by hour; and if I dared to contemplate the death 
 of this heroic and beloved being, it was al- 
 most with a wish that it had happened before 
 the arrival of those to whom it must be a re- 
 newal of agony. 
 
 But the minor cares, which make so hum- 
 ble, yet so necessary a page in the history of 
 life, were now to occupy me. Food must be 
 provided for the increased number of my in- 
 mates; and where was that to be found in the 
 circle of a beleaguered city 1 Money was 
 useless, even if I possessed it : the friends who 
 would once have shared their last meal with 
 
 
 me, were exiled or slain ; and it was in the 
 midst of a fierce populace, themselves dying 
 of hunger, that I was to glean the daily sub- 
 sistence of my wife and children. The natu- 
 ral pride of the chieftain revolted at the idea 
 of supplicating for food; but this was one of 
 the questions lhat show the absurdity of pride ; 
 and I must beg, if I would not see them die. 
 The dwelling had belonged to one of the no- 
 ble families extinguished or driven out in the 
 first commotions of the war. The factions 
 which perpetually tore each other, and fought 
 from house to house, bad stripped its lofty 
 halls of every thing that could be plundered 
 in the hurry of civil feud ; and when I took 
 refuge under its roof, it looked the very pal- 
 ace of desolation. But it was a shelter; un- 
 disturbed by the riots of the crowd, too bare 
 to invite the robber; and even its vast and 
 naked chambers, its gloomy passages, and 
 frowning casements, were congenial to the 
 mood of my mind. With Constantius insen- 
 sible and dying before me, and with my own 
 spirit darkened by an eternal cloud, I loved 
 the loneliness and darkness. When the echo 
 of the winds came round me, as I sat during 
 my miserable midnights watching the coun- 
 tenance of my son, and moistening his fever- 
 ish lip with water, that even then was becom- 
 ing a commodity of rare price in Jerusalem; 
 1 communed with memories that I would not 
 have exchanged for the brightest enjoyments 
 of life. I welcomed the sad music, in wMch 
 the beloved voices revisited my soul ; what 
 was earth now to me, but a tomb ! pomp, nay, 
 comfort would have been a mockery. I clung 
 to the solitude and obscurity that gave me the 
 picture of the grave. 
 
 But the presence of my family made me 
 feel the wretchedness of my abode. And 
 when I cast my eyes round the squallid and 
 chilling halls, and saw wandering through 
 them those gentle and delicate forms, and 
 saw them trying to disguise by smiles and 
 cheering words the depression that the whole 
 scene must inspire, I felt a pang that might 
 defy a firmer philosophy than mine. 
 
 “Here,” said I to Miriam, as T hastened to 
 the door, “I leave you mistress of a palace. 
 The Asmonean blood once flourished within 
 these walls; and why not we? I have seen 
 the nobles of the land crowded into these 
 chambers; and every spot of them echoing 
 with festivity. They are not so full now ; but 
 we must make the most of what we have. — 
 Those hangings, that I remember the pride 
 of the Sidonian who sold them, and the won- 
 der of Jerusalem, are left to us still ; if they 
 are in fragments, they will but show our 
 handy-work the more. We must make our 
 own music ; and, in default of menials, serve 
 with our own hands. The pile in that cor- 
 ner was once a throne sent by a Persian king 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 to the descendant of the Maccabees; it will 
 serve at least for firing: the walls are thick; 
 the roof may hold out a few storms more ; the 
 casements, if they keep out nothing else, keep 
 out the day-light, an unwelcome guest, which 
 would do any thing but reconcile us to the 
 state of the mansion : and now farewell for a 
 few hours.” 
 
 Miriam caught my arm, and said in that 
 sweet tone, which always sank into my heart; 
 “ Salathiel, you must not leave us in this 
 temper. I would rather hear your open com- 
 plaints of fortune, than this affectation of 
 scorn for our calamities. They are many, and 
 painful, I allow; though I will not — dare not 
 repine. They may even be such as are be- 
 yond human cure. But who shall say, that 
 he has deserved better; or if he has, that 
 suffering may not be the determined means 
 of purifying and exalting his nature 1 Is gold 
 the only thing that is to be tried in fire 1” 
 
 She waited my answer with a look of de- 
 jected love. 
 
 “ Miriam, I need not say that T respect and 
 honor your feelings. But no resignation can 
 combat the substantial evils of life. Will the 
 finest sentiments that ever came from human 
 lips make this darkness light, turn this bitter 
 wind into warmth, or make these hideous 
 chambers but the dungeon 1” 
 
 “ Salathiel, I dread this language ;” was the 
 answer, with more than usual solemnity. “ It 
 is, must I say it, even ungrateful and unwise: 
 shall the creatures of the power by whom we 
 are placed in life, either defy his wrath, or 
 disregard his mercy 1 Might we not be more 
 severely tasked than we are! Are there not 
 thousands at this hour in the world, who, 
 with at least equal claims to the divine be- 
 nevolence, (I tremble when I use the pre- 
 sumptuous phrase,) are undergoing calami- 
 ties to which ours are happiness 1 Look from 
 this very threshold : are there not thousands 
 within the walls of Jerusalem groaning in 
 the pangs of unhealed wounds, mad, starving, 
 stripped of every succor of man, dying in ho- 
 vels, the last survivors of their wretched race ; 
 and yet we, still enjoying health, with a roof 
 over our heads, with our children round us 
 safe, when the plague of the first-born has 
 fallen upon almost every house in Judea, can 
 complain ! Be comforted, my love; I see but 
 one actual calamity among us; and, if Con- 
 stantius should survive, even that one would 
 be at an end.” 
 
 I tried to escape under cover of ridicule. 
 
 “ So, let fancy have its way ; and never had 
 it a more boundless field. Let us dream this 
 ruin into our palace, fill its walls with ima- 
 ginary opulence, and be happy in spite of 
 chance or change. Here will I sit,” said 
 I, throwing myself on the remnant of an em- 
 broidered couch ; “ enjoy the delights of soci- 
 
 ety in solitude, and feel every comfort of life 
 in cold, squalidness and privation.” Miriam 
 turned away with a vexed look ; but soon, re- 
 covering her composure, came back to conquer 
 with her irresistible snnle. 
 
 “ I can forgive your unhappiness: the spirit 
 of man is not made to endure with the pa- 
 tience of woman. But, thoughts like yours 
 are nurtured into sadness by inactivity: you 
 must leave us for a while, and see how far 
 our skill may not improve even this dwelling. 
 Go into the streets, and bring us intelligence 
 ot what the Romans are doing. Try the ef- 
 fect of sunshine and air ; and then return, and 
 allow the wonders that can be done even by 
 helpless woman.” 
 
 I obeyed the orders of my gentle despot, 
 and hurried through the echoing halls of this 
 palace of the winds. As I approached the 
 great avenues leading from the gates to the 
 temple, unusual sounds struck my ears. — 
 Hitherto, nothing in the sadness of the be- 
 sieged city was sadder than its silence. — 
 Death was lord of Jerusalem ; and the num- 
 berless wavs in which life was extinguished, 
 had left but a remnant of its once proud and 
 flourishing population. 
 
 But now shouts, and still more the deep and 
 perpetual murmurs that bespeak the move- 
 ments and gatherings of a crowded city, as- 
 tonished me. My first conception was, that 
 the enemy had advanced in force ; and 1 was 
 turning towards the battlements to witness or 
 repel the general fate, when I was involved 
 in the multitude whose voices had perplexed 
 me. 
 
 It was the season of the passover ; the Ro- 
 man barrier had hitherto kept back the tribes : 
 but the victory that left it in embers, opened 
 the gates : and we once more saw the sons 
 of Judea filling the courts of the city of ci- 
 ties. 
 
 Nothing could be more unrestrained than 
 the public rejoicing. The bold myriads that 
 poured in hour by hour, many of them long 
 acquainted with Roman battle, and distin- 
 guished for the successful defence of their 
 strong holds; many of them even bearing 
 arms taken from the enemy, or display- 
 ing honorable scars, seemed to have come, 
 sent by heaven. The enemy evidently dis- 
 heartened by their late losses, and the de- 
 struction of the rampart which had cost them 
 so much labor, were collected in their camps; 
 and access was free from every quarter. The 
 rumors of our triumph had spread with sin- 
 gular rapidity through the land ; and even 
 the fearful phenomenon that wrote our undo- 
 ! ing in the skies, stimulated the national hope, 
 j No son of Abraham could believe, without 
 j the strongest repugnance, that heaven had 
 | interposed, and yet. interposed against the 
 1 chosen peoole 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 A living torrent was swelling into tlie 
 gates; and the great avenues and public 
 places were quickly' impassable with the mul- 
 titude. Jerusalem never before contained 
 such a mass of population. Wherever the 
 eye turned were tents, fires, and feasting; 
 still, the multitude wore an aspect not such 
 as in former days. The war had made its 
 impression on the inmost spirit of our coun- 
 try. The shepherds and tillers of the ground 
 had been forced into the habits of soldiership ; 
 and I saw before me, for the gentle and joy- 
 ous inhabitants of the field and garden, bands 
 of warriors, made fierce by the sullen neces- 
 sities of the time. 
 
 The ruin in which they found Jerusalem, 
 increased their gloom. Groups were seen 
 every where climbing among the fallen build- 
 ings to find out the dwelling of some chief of 
 their tribe, and venting furious indignation on 
 the hands that had overthrown it The work 
 of war upon the famous defences of the city 
 was a profanation in their eyes. Crowds 
 rushed through the plain to trace the spot 
 where their kindred fell, and gather their 
 bones to the tardy sepulchre. Others were 
 exulting over the wrecks of the Roman, and 
 burning them in heaps, that, they might not 
 mix with the honored dead. But it was the 
 dilapidation of the temple that struck them 
 with the deepest wrath. The whole nervous 
 sensibility and native reverence of the Jew' 
 were awakened by the sight of the humiliated 
 sanctuary. They knelt and kissed the pave- 
 ments stained with the marks of civil feud. 
 They sent forth deep lamentations for the dis- 
 mantled beauty of gate and altar. They 
 wrapped their mantles round their heads, and, 
 covering themselves with dust and ashes, 
 chanted hymns of funeral sorrow over the ru- 
 ins. Hundreds lay embracing pillar and 
 threshold, as they would the corpse of a pa- 
 rent or a child ; or, starting from the ground, 
 gathered on the heights nearest to the enemy 
 and poured out curses upon the abomination 
 of desolation — the idolatrous banner that 
 flaunted over the Roman camps, and by its 
 mere presence insulted and polluted the tem- 
 ple of their fathers. 
 
 In the midst of this sorrow, and never was 
 there more real sorrow, was the strange con- 
 trast of a violent spirit of festivity. The 
 passover, the grand celebration of our law, 
 was till now marked by a grave homage. — 
 Even its recollections of triumphant deliver- 
 ance and illustrious promise were but slightly 
 suffered to mitigate the general awe. But 
 the character of the Jew had undergone a 
 signal change. Desperate valor and haughty 
 contempt of all power but that of arms, were 
 the impulse bf the time. The habits of the 
 camp were transferred through every part of 
 life ; and the reckless joy of the soldier when 1 
 
 the battle is done, the eagerness for immedi- 
 ate indulgence, and the rude and unhallowed 
 resources to while away the heavy hour of 
 idleness, were powerfully and repulsively 
 prominent in the final corning up of the na- 
 tion. 
 
 As I struggled through the avenues in 
 search of the remnant of my tribe, my ears 
 were perpetually startled by sounds of riot ; 
 I saw, beside the spot where relations were 
 weeping over their dead, crowds drinking, 
 dancing, and clamoring. Songs of wild ex- 
 ultation over the enemy were mingled with 
 laments for their country; wine flowed ; and 
 the board, loaded with careless profusion, was 
 surrounded by revelers, with whom the ca- 
 rouse was often succeeded by the quarrel. 
 
 The Pharisee and Scribe, the pests of so- 
 ciety, were as busy as ever, bustling through 
 the concourse with supercilious dignity, can- 
 vassing for hearers in the market-places as of 
 old, offering their wordy devotions where they 
 might best be seen, and quarreling, with the 
 native bitterness of religious faction. Blind 
 guides of the blind ; vipers and hypocrites; I 
 think that I see them still with their turbans 
 pulled down upon their scowling brows; their 
 mantles gathered round them, that they might 
 not be degraded by a profane touch ; and eve- 
 ry feature of their acrid and worldly physi- 
 ognomies wrinkled with pride put to the tor- 
 ture by the assumption of humility. 
 
 Minstrels, far unlike those who once led 
 the way, with sacred song to the gates of the 
 holy city, flocked round the tents ; and com- 
 panies of Greek and Syrian mimes, dancers, 
 and flute-players, tire natural and fatal growth 
 of a period of military relaxation, were erect- 
 ing their pavilions, as in the festivals of their 
 own profligate cities. 
 
 Deepening the shadows of this fearful pro- 
 fanation, stood forth the progeny of terror; 
 the exorcist, the soothsayer, the magician gir- 
 dled with live serpents, the pretended pro- 
 phet, naked and pouring out furious rhapso- 
 dies; impostors of every color and trade ; yet, 
 some of those abhorred arid frightful beings 
 the dupes of their own imposture; some ut- 
 terly frenzied ; and some declaring and doing 
 wonders, that showed a power of evil never 
 learned from man. 
 
 In depression of heart I gave up the effort 
 to urge my way through scenes, that, firm as 
 I was, terrified me; and turned towards my 
 home, through the steep path that passed 
 along the buter court of the temple. There 
 all was the mournful silence suited to the 
 sanctuary, that was to see its altars kindled 
 no more. But the ruins were crowded with 
 kneeling and woe-besrone worshipers, that, 
 from morning till night, clung to the sacred 
 1 soil, and wept for the departing majesty of 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 Judah. I knelt with them, and mingled my 
 tears with theirs. 
 
 Prayer calmed my spirit ; and before 1 left 
 the height, I stopped to look again upon the j 
 wondrous expanse below. The clear atmos- 
 phere of the East singularly diminishes dis-j 
 tance, and I seemed to stand close to the Ro- j 
 man camps. T.V valley at my feet was liv-l 
 ing with the new population of Jerusalem 
 clustering thick as bees, and sending up thej 
 perpetual hum of their mighty hive. The 
 sight was superb; and I involuntarily exulted 
 in the strength that my country was still able 
 to display in the face of her enemies. 
 
 “ Here were the elements of mutual havoc ; 
 but, might they not be the elements of pre- 
 servation 1” The thought occured, that now 
 was the time to make an effort for peace. — 
 “ We had, by the repulse of the legionaries,' 
 shovvn the price which they must pay for 
 conquest. Even since that repulse, a new 
 force had started forward, armed with an en- j 
 thusiasm that would perish only with the last 
 man, and tenfold increasing the difficulties of 
 the conquest.” 
 
 I turned again to the ruins, where I joined 
 myself to some venerable and influential men, i 
 who alike shuddered at the excesses of the 
 crowd below, and the 'catastrophe that pro- 
 longed war must bring. My advice produced 
 an impression. The remnant of the Sanhe- 
 drim were speedily collected ; and my propo- 
 sal was adopted, that a deputation should im- 
 mediately be sent to Titus, to ascertain how ! 
 far he was disposed to an armistice. The 
 regular pacification might then follow with a 
 more solemn ceremonial. 
 
 From the top of Mount Moriah, we anx- 
 iously watched the passage of our envoys 
 through the multitude that wandered over the 
 space from Jerusalem to the foOt of the ene- 
 my’s position. We saw them pass unmolest- 
 ed, and enter the Roman lines ; and from the 
 group of officers of rank who came forward 
 to meet them, we gladly conjectured that 
 their reception was favorable. Within an 
 hour we saw them moving down the side of 
 the hill on their return; and at some distance 
 behind, a cluster of horsemen slowly advanc- 
 ing. 
 
 The deputation had executed its task with 
 success. Tt was received by Titus with Ital- 
 ian urbanity. To its representations of the 
 power subsisting in Judea to sustain the war 
 he fully assented; and, giving high praise to 
 the fortitude of the people, only lamented the 
 necessary havoc of war.. To give the strong- 
 er proof of his wish for peace, his answer 
 i was to be conveyed formally by a mission 
 of his chief counsellors and officers to the San- 
 hedrim. 
 
 The tidings were soon propagated among 
 the people , and proud of their strength, and 
 
 irritated against the invader as they were, the 
 prospect of relief from their innumerable pri- 
 vations was welcomed with undisguised joy. 
 The hope was as cheering to the two promi- 
 nent leaders of the factions, as to any man 
 among us. John of Giscala had been stimulated 
 into daring by circumstances alone ; nature ne- 
 ver intended him for a warrior. Wily, grasp- 
 ing and selfish; cruel without boldness, and 
 keen without intellectual vigor; his only pur- 
 pose was to accumulate money, and to enjoy 
 power. The loftier objects of public life were 
 beyond his narrow capacity. He had been 
 rapidly losing even his own meaner objects; 
 his followers were deserting him ; and a con- 
 tinuance of the war involved equally the 
 personal peril which he feared, and the fall 
 of that tottering authority, whose loss would 
 leave him to insulted justice. 
 
 Simon, the son of Gioras, was altogether 
 of a higher class of mankind. He was by 
 nature a soldier; and might have, in other 
 times, risen to a place among the celebrated 
 names of war. But the fierceness of the pe- 
 riod inflamed his bold spirit into savage atro- 
 city. In the tumults of the city he had dis- 
 tinguished himself by that unhesitating hardi- 
 hood, which values neither his own life nor 
 that of others; and his boldness threw the 
 hollow and artificial character of his rival 
 deeply into the shade. But he found a differ- 
 ent adversary in the Romans. His brute 
 bravery was met by intelligent valor; his 
 rashness was punished by the discipline of the 
 legions; and, weary of conflicts in which he 
 was sure to be defeated, he had long left the 
 field to the irregular sallies of the tribes; and 
 contented himself with prowess in city feud, 
 and the preservation of his authority against 
 the dagger. 
 
 Peace with Rome would have relieved both 
 John and Simon from the danger which 
 threatened to overwhelm them alike: to the 
 citizens it would have given an instant change 
 from the terrors of assault to tranquility: to 
 the nation, the hope of an existence made 
 splendidly secure and honorable, by its having 
 been won from the sovereign of the world. 
 
 The movement of the Roman mission 
 through the plain was marked by loud shouts. 
 As it approached the gates, our little council 
 descended from the Temple-porch to meet 
 it, where one of the open places in the cen- 
 tre of the city was appointed for the confer- 
 ence. The applauding roar of the people fol- 
 lowed the troop through the streets; and when 
 the tribunes and senators entered the square, 
 and gave us the right hand of amity, the uni- 
 versal acclamation shook the air. A gleam 
 of joy revisited my heart ; and I was on the 
 point of ascending an elevation in the centre, 
 to announce the terms of this fortunate arm- 
 
Salathiet. 
 
 istice ; — to my astonishment I saw the spot 
 pre-occupied. 
 
 Whence came the intruder no one could 
 tell. But there he stood, a figure that fixed 
 the universal eye. He was of lofty stature, 
 brown as an Indian, and thin as one worn to 
 the last extremity by sorrow or famine. Con- 
 jecture was busy. He seemed, alternately, 
 the fugitive from a dungeon — one of the half- 
 savage recluses that sometimes came from 
 their dens in the wilderness, to exhibit among 
 us the last humiliation of mind and body — a 
 dealer in forbidden arts, attempting to impose 
 on the rude credulity of the populace — and a 
 prophet armed with the fearful knowledge of 
 our approaching fall. But to me there was 
 an expression in his countenance that partook 
 of all ; yet I gazed with an indefinable feeling 
 that there was a something different from all 
 in the glaring eye, the fixed and livid scorn of 
 the lip, and the stern and grand outline of 
 features, that appeared alike overflowing with 
 malignity and majesty. 
 
 No man thought of interrupting him. A 
 powerful interest hushed every voice of the 
 multitude; and the only impulse was eager- 
 ness to hear the lofty wisdom, or the fatal ti- 
 dings, that must be deposited with such a be- 
 ing. He himself seemed overwhelmed with 
 the magnitude of the thoughts that he was 
 commissioned to disclose. He stood for a 
 while with the look of one oppressed by a 
 fearful dream ; his bosom heaving, his teeth 
 gnashing, every muscle of his meagre frame 
 swelling and quivering. He strongly clasped 
 his bony arms across his breast, as if to re- 
 press the agitation that impeded his words; 
 then, stamping on the ground, in wrath at the 
 faculties which thus sank under him at the 
 important moment, the tempest of his soul 
 broke forth. 
 
 “Judah ! thou wert as a lion — thou wert as 
 the king of the forest when he went up to the 
 mountains to slay, and from the mountains 
 came down to devour. Thou wert as the 
 garden of Eden, every precious stone was 
 thy covering ; the sardine, the topaz, and the 
 beryl, were thy pavements; thy fountains 
 were of silver, and thy daughters that walked 
 in thy groves were as the cherubim and the 
 seraphim. 
 
 “Judah! thy temple was glorious as the 
 eun-risincr, and thy priests were the wise of 
 the earth. Kings came against thee, and 
 their bones were an offering ; the fowls of the 
 air devoured them ; the foxes brought their 
 yountr, and feasted them upon the mighty. 
 
 “Judah! thou wert as a fire in the midst 
 of the nations — a fire upon an altar ; who shall 
 quench thee 1 — A sword over the neck of the 
 heathen ; who shall say unto thee, smite no 
 more? Thou wert as the thunder and the 
 lightning: thou earnest from thy place, and 
 
 | the earth was dark : the heaven was thine, 
 the earth was at thy feet. Thou didst thun- 
 der, and the nations shook ; and the fire of 
 thy indignation consumed them.” 
 
 The voice in which this extraordinary be- 
 ing uttered those words was like the thunder. 
 The multitude listened with breathless awe. 
 The appeal in the languag' of their own pro- 
 phets was to them a renewal of the times of 
 inspiration ; and they awaited with out- 
 stretched and quivering countenances the sen- 
 tence, that their passions interrupted into the 
 will of heaven. 
 
 The figure lifted up his glance, that had 
 ' hitherto been fixed on the ground ; and, 
 whether it was the work of fancy or reality, I 
 thought that the glance threw an actual beam 
 of fire across the upturned visages of the 
 myiiads that filled every spot on which afoot 
 could rest; roof, wall, and ground. 
 
 Bowing his head, and raising his hands in 
 the most solemn adoration towards the tem- 
 ple, he pursued, in a voice scarcely above a 
 whisper, yet indescribably impressive — 
 
 “ Sons of the faithful Abraham, of Isaac, 
 and of Jacob ; people chosen of God, elect 
 and holy! Will you suffer that house of ho- 
 liness to be the scoff of the idolater? Will 
 you see the polluted sacrifice laid upon its al- 
 tars? Will you be slaves and victims in the 
 presence of the house of David?” 
 
 A rising outcry of the multitude showed 
 how deeply they felt his words. A fierce 
 smile lightened across his features at the 
 sound. He erected his colossal form; and 
 cried out, like the roar of the whirlwind, 
 “ Then, men of Judah, be strong, and follow 
 the hand that led you through the sea and 
 through the desert. Is that hand shortened, 
 that it cannot save? Brpak off this accursed 
 league with the sons of Belial. Fly every 
 man to arms, for the glory of the mighty peo- 
 ple. Will the Most High desert his people? 
 Go; and let the sword that smote the Cana- 
 anite srnite the Roman.” 
 
 He was answered with furious exultation. 
 Swords and poniards were brandished in the 
 air. The safety of the Roman officers became 
 endangered ; and T, with some of the elders, 
 dreading a result which must throw fatal ob- 
 stacles in the way of pacification, attempted 
 to control the popular violence by reason and ' 
 entreaty. But the spirit of the Romans, 
 haughty with conquest, and long contempt of 
 rabble prowess, disdained to take precautions 
 with a rnob: and they awaited with palpable 
 contempt in their faces the subsiding of this 
 city effervescence. But this silent scorn, 
 which probably stung the deeper for its si- 
 lence, was retorted to by clamors of unequi- 
 vocal rage ; the mysterious disturber saw the 
 storm coming; and flinging a furious gesture 
 towards the Roman camps, which lay glitter- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 ing in the sunshine along the hills, he rushed 
 into the loftiest language of malediction. 
 
 “Take up a lament for the Roman,” he 
 shouted. “He comes like a leviathan; he 
 troubleth the waters with his presence ; and 
 the rivers behold him, and are afraid. 
 
 “ Thus saith the king, he who holdeth Is- 
 rael in the hollow of his hand : I will spread 
 rhy net over thee, and my people shall drag 
 thee upon the shore; I will leave thee to rot 
 upon the land ; I will fill the beasts of the earth 
 with thee, until they shall come and find thee 
 dry bones and dust, even thy glory turned into 
 a taint and a scorn. 
 
 “ Lift up a cry over Rome, and say: — Thou 
 art the leopard ; thy jaws are red with blood, 
 and thv claws are heavy because of the mul- 
 titude of the slain ; thy spots are glorious, and 
 thy feet are like wings for swiftness. But thy 
 time is at hand. My arrow shall smite through 
 thee : my steel shall go through thee : I will 
 lay thy flesh upon the hills, thy blood shall be 
 red in the rivers, the pits shall be full of 
 thee. 
 
 “ For, thus ^aith the king, I have not for- 
 saken my children. For my pleasure, I have 
 given them over for a little wnile to the hands 
 of the oppressor ; but they have loved me — 
 they have come before me, and offered up 
 sacrifices; and shall I desert the land of the 
 chosen, the sons of the glorious, my people 
 Israel !” A universal cry of sorrow, wrath, 
 and triumph, followed this allusion to the na- 
 tional sufferings. 
 
 “ Ho !” exclaimed the figure. “ Men of 
 Israel, hear the words of wisdom. The bur- 
 den of Rome. By the swords of the mighty 
 will I cause her multitude to fall ; the terrible 
 and the strong shall be on thee, city of the 
 idolater ; they shall hew off thy cuirasses, as 
 the hewer of wood ; and of thy shields, they 
 shall make vessels of water. There shall be 
 fire in thy palaces, and the sword. Thy sons 
 and thy daughters shall they consume ; and 
 thy precious things shall be a spoil, when the 
 king shall give the sign from the sanctuary.” 
 He paused, and lifting up his fleshless arm, 
 stood like a giant bronze pointing to the tem- 
 ple. 
 
 To the utter astonishment of all, a vapor 
 was seen to ascend from the summit of Mount 
 Moriah, wreathing and white like the smoke 
 that used to mark the daily sacrifice. Our 
 first conception was, that this great inter- 
 rupted rite was resumed; and the shout of joy 
 was on our lips. But the vapor had scarcely 
 parted from the crown of the hill, when it 
 blackened, and began to whirl with extraor- 
 dinary rapidity; it thenceforth less ascended 
 than shot up, perpetually darkening and dis- 
 tending. The horizon grew dim, the cloudy 
 canopy above continued to spread and revolve ; 
 
 lightning began to quiver through; and we 
 heard at intervals, long low peals of thunder. 
 But no rain fell, and the wind was lifeless. — 
 Nothing could be- more complete than the 
 calm ; not a hair of our heads was moved ; yet 
 the heart of the countless multitude was pen- 
 etrated with the dread of some impending 
 catastrophe, that restrained every voice; and 
 the silence itself was awful. 
 
 In the climate of Judea we had been ac- 
 customed to the rapid rise and violent devas- 
 tations of tempests. But the rising of this 
 storm, so closely connected with the appear- 
 ance of the strange summoner, that it almost 
 followed his command, invested a phenome- 
 non, at all times fearful, with a character that 
 might have struck firmer minds than those of 
 the enthusiasts round him. To heighten the 
 wonder, the progress of the storm was still 
 faithful to the command, wherever this man 
 of mystery waved his arm, there rushed a 
 sheet of cloud. The bluest tract of heaven 
 was black as night the moment he turned his 
 ominous presence towards it, until there was 
 no more sky to be obliterated, and, but for the 
 fiery streaks that tore through, we should 
 have stood under a canopy of solid gloom. 
 
 At length the whirlwind that we had seen 
 driving and rolling the clouds, like billows, 
 burst upon us; roaring as it came: scattering 
 fragments of the buildings far and wide, and 
 cutting a broad way through the overthrown 
 multitude. Then superstition and terror were 
 loud-mouthed. The populace, crushed and 
 dashed down, exclaimed that a volcano was 
 throwing up flame from the mount of the 
 temple ; that sulphurous smokes were rising 
 through the crevices of the ground ; that the 
 rocking of an earthquake was felt ; and, still 
 more terrible, that beings not to be looked on, 
 nor even to be named, were hovering round 
 them in the storm. 
 
 The general rush of the multitude, in which 
 hundreds were trampled down, and in which, 
 nothing but the most violent efforts could keep 
 any on their feet, bore me away for awhile. 
 The struggle was sufficient to absorb all my 
 senses, for nothing could be more perilous. — 
 The darknes was intense. The peals of the 
 storm were deafening; and the howling and 
 fury of the crowd, trampling and being tram- 
 pled on, and fighting for life in blindness and 
 despair, with hand, foot, and dagger, made an 
 uproar louder than that of the storm. In this 
 conflict rather of demons than of men, I was 
 whirled away in eddy after eddy, until chance 
 brought me again to the foot of the elevation. 
 
 There I beheld a new wonder. A column 
 of livid fire stood upon it, reaching to the 
 clouds. I could discern the outline of a hu- 
 man form within. But while I expected to 
 see it drop dead, or blasted to a cinder, the 
 flame spread over the ground, and I saw its 
 
150 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 strange inhabitant making signs like those 
 of incantation. He drew a circle upon the 
 burning soil, poured out some unguent, 
 which diffused a powerful and rich odor, 
 razed the skin of his arm with a dagger, 
 and let fall some drops of blood into the 
 blaze. 
 
 I shuddered at the sight of those palpable 
 appeals to the power of evil; but I was 
 pressed upon by thousands, and retreat was 
 impossible. The magician then, with a 
 ghastly smile of triumph, waved the weapon 
 towards the Roman camps. “ Behold,” he 
 cried, “ the beginnings of vengeance !” A 
 thunder-roll, that almost split the ear, echoed 
 round the hills. The darkness passed away 
 with it. Above Jerusalem the sky cleared, 
 and cleared into a translucence and blue 
 splendor, unrivalled by the brightest sun- 
 shine. The people, wrought up to the high- 
 est expectancy, shouted at this promise of a 
 prouder deliverance, and exclaiming, “Go- 
 shen ! Goshen !” looked breathlessly for the 
 completion of the plague upon the more 
 than Egyptian oppressor. They were not 
 held long in suspense. 
 
 The storm had cleared away from above 
 our heads only to gather in deeper terrors 
 round the circle of the hills, on which we 
 could see the enemy in the most overwhelm- 
 ing state of uncertainty and alarm. The 
 clouds rushed on, ridge over ridge, till the 
 whole horizon seemed shut in by a wall of 
 night towering to the skies. I heard the 
 deep voice of the magician ; at the utterance 
 of some wild words, a gleam played round 
 the dagger’s point, and the wall of darkness 
 was instantly a wall of fire. The storm was 
 let loose in its rage. While we stood in 
 day-light and in perfect calm, the lightning 
 poured like sheets of rain, or gushes of burn- 
 ing metal from a furnace, upon the enemy. 
 The vast circuit of the camps was one blaze. 
 The wind tore every thing before it with 
 irresistible violence. We saw the tents 
 swept off the ground, and driven far over 
 the hills in flames, like meteors ; the piles 
 of arms and banners blown away ; the sol- 
 diery clinging to the rocks, or flying to- 
 
 gether in helpless crowds, or scattering like 
 maniacs, with hair and garments on fire ; 
 the baggage and military machines, the 
 turrets and ramparts sinking in flames; 
 the beasts of burden plunging and rush- 
 ing through the lines, or lying in smoulder- 
 ing heaps where the lightning first smote 
 them. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 The Roman troop had hitherto remained 
 in stern composure. The visitations of na- 
 ture they were accustomed to sustain ; the 
 perturbation of a Jewish mob were beneath 
 the notice of the universal conquerors. But 
 the sight of the havoc among their country- 
 men shook their stoicism : and the cavalry 
 that formed the escort burst into indignant 
 murmurs at the loud exultation of the mul- 
 titude ; until the commander of the troop, a 
 young officer, whose arms and bearing show- 
 ed him to be of the highest rank, unable to 
 restrain his feelings, spurred to the front of 
 the embarrassed mission. 
 
 “ How long,” exclaimed he, “ senators, 
 shall we stand here to be scoffed at by these 
 wretches'! The imperial guard feels itself 
 disgraced by such a service. Will you have 
 the troop openly mutiny ! If they should 
 ride away and leave us to ourselves yvho 
 could blame them ! Decide what is to be 
 done. What will the noble Titus say, when 
 ! we return to tell him that we stood by and 
 listened to the taunts of those cooped-up 
 slaves on him, the army, and Rome! But 
 * how long shall we be suffered even to lis- 
 ten ? Linger here, and before the day is 
 out, before the hour is out, your lives will 
 be at the mercy of those assassins. And, 
 by the immortal gods, richly shall we all 
 deserve our fate, for having come into this 
 den but as masters, riding over the necks of 
 those last and lowest of mankind.” 
 
 It was fortunate for the speaker that he 
 spoke in a language but little known to our 
 
Salat hi el. 
 
 bold peasantry. The senators held their 
 peace, and waited for the subsiding of the 
 popular effervescence. 
 
 “Noble Sempronius,” exclaimed the fiery 
 youth to a brave and lofly-countenanced man, 
 at the head of the mission, “ to remain here is 
 only to risk your safety, and the honor of the 
 emperor. Treaty with this people is out of 
 the question. Give me the order to move now, 
 and I will be responsible for your security. — 
 Or rather, give me the order to disperse this' 
 rabble, and a single charge will decide the' 
 affair.” 
 
 He threw himself forward on his horse’s 
 neck, and fijftd his look eagerly on the sena- 
 tor’s countenance. But the old Roman was 
 immovable. The magician, who had stood 
 with his robe wrapped round his arms, in an 
 attitude of contemptuous ease, awaiting the 
 result of the demand, burst into loud laugh- 
 ter. The young soldier’s indignation was 
 roused by this new object. He turned to the 
 scorner, and crying out, “ Ha ! is it you, mis- 
 creant? you at least shall not escape me,” 
 flung his lance full against his bosom. I saw 
 the weapon strike with prodigious force; but 
 it might as well have struck a rock. It flew 
 into splinters. The Roman rushed at him, 
 with his drawn falchion. His strange antag- 
 onist stood without moving a limb, and only 
 raised his cold, large eye. The charger, in 
 his fiercest bound, instantly swerved, and had 
 nearly unseated his rider. Nothing could 
 bring him forward again. Spur and voice 
 were useless. The animal, a magnificent 
 jet-black, of the largest Turcoman breed, 
 strong as a bull and bold as a lion, could not 
 abide that stem eye. He galloped madly 
 round and round, but the attempt to urge him 
 against the stranger stopped him as if he were 
 stabbed. Then, with every muscle in his 
 frame palpitating, his broad chest heaving, 
 his nostrils breathing out thick vapor, and the 
 foam flying over his front like snow, he would 
 plunge and roar, til!, mastering his powerful 
 rider, he wheeled round, and darted away. 
 
 The shouts of scorn that rose from the pop- 
 ulace at every fresh failure doubly enraged 
 the younjr Roman. He made a final effort, 
 and grasping the bridle in both hands, and dash- 
 ing in the spur, at length succeeded in forc- 
 ing on the wearied charger. The noble crea- 
 ture at one immense leap reached the fated 
 spot. But there he was fixed, as if some 
 power had transformed him into stone. He 
 no longer staggered nor swerved, but crouch- 
 ing down, with his feet thrust forward, his 
 crest stooped, his nostrils on the ground, and 
 his brilliant eye strained and filmy, as if he 
 were growing blind, stood gazing with a look 
 of almost human horror. The furious rider 
 struck him on the head with the flat of his 
 falchion. The charger gathered up his limbs 
 
 at the blow, reared straight as a column, and 
 bellowing, plunged upon his forehead. There 
 was a general cry of terror even among the 
 multitude, and they rushed forward to help him 
 to rise. But he rose no more. He rolled 
 over and over, and stretching out his limbs 
 with a convulsion, died. 
 
 The tumult was on the point of being re- 
 newed ; for the soldiery pushed forward to bear 
 away their officer, who lay like a corpse; but 
 the crowd had already covered the ground ; 
 and blows were given on both sides. Indig- 
 nant at the interruption of the armistice, and 
 the injury that threatened the sacred person 
 of ambassadors, I forced my way through the 
 crowd, and by exerting a strength with which 
 few could cope, rescued the body of the young 
 Roman, and delivering it to the mission, pro- 
 tested against their construing the casual 
 violence of rioters into the determination of 
 the people. 
 
 I had partially succeeded in calming their 
 resentment, and in restraining the bloodthirsty 
 weapons that were already glittering in num- 
 berless hands; when a sound like that of a 
 trumpet, distant, but blown with tremendous 
 force, struck every ear at once. 
 
 The masrician pointed to the heavens d irect- 
 ly above his head. A small fragment of cloud, 
 that seemed to have escaped from the mass of 
 the tempest only to contrast with the bright- 
 ness, was floating along the zenith. He took 
 tip his parable : “ Have 1 not covered the 
 heavens with a cloud ? saitli the Mighty One. 
 Have I not said to the sun, Be dark ; and to the 
 moon and stars, Be ashamed ? Have I not 
 hidden mine enemies in the shroud, and said 
 to the whirlwind, Go forth and slay 1” 
 
 His gesture turned all eyes to the wrecks 
 of the Roman camp, where the whirlwind 
 continued to ravage and the thunders still 
 roared. Then throwing himself forward, 
 with a look full of wild grandeur, and in a 
 voice hollow and appalling as the storm, he 
 exclaimed : — 
 
 “ Behold ! this day shall a wonder be 
 wrought among you : — this day shall a mighty 
 thing be brought to pass. Kings shall see it, 
 and tremble ; yea, the heathen shall melt be- 
 fore thee. Their strength shall be as water, 
 and their hearts as the burning flax. Sorrow 
 shall be on them, as the locust on the green 
 field ; and they shall flee as from a lion. Be- 
 hold ! in a cloud shall a sword be brandished 
 before thee; in smoke and in fire shalt thou 
 conquer. For his angel shall come; and the 
 sword and the flame shall at this hour be a 
 sign unto Israel !” 
 
 Whether by the proverbial sagacity of the 
 wanderers of the desert, by knowledge from 
 some darker source, or simply by one of those 
 coincidences which so curiously come to sus- 
 tain the credit of daring conjecture, the littl 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 orbed vapor began to lengthen, and rapidly 
 assumed the shape of a sword ! 
 
 Dreading the popular power of imposture, 
 and the uses to which it would inevitably be 
 applied, I was glad that this extraordinary 
 being had thus put himself upon his trial ; and 
 I stood gazing in eager expectation that some 
 passing gust would dissipate at once the 
 cloud, and the reputation of the prophet. — 
 Yet, utterly scorning the common pretensions 
 of the rambling practisers of forbidden arts, 
 I knew thatawful things had been done; that, 
 most of all, in these latter days of our coun- 
 try, strange influences were let loose, perhaps 
 to plunge into deeper ruin a people guiltily 
 prone to take refuge in delusions. I had 
 heard prophecies, hideous and unholy, yet 
 which were never taught by man ; 1 had seen 
 a command of the elements, that utterly defied 
 philosophy to account for them. If, in the 
 last vengeance of heaven, evil spirits were 
 ever suffered to go forth and give their power 
 to evil men, for the purpose of binding faster 
 in the chains of falsehood a race who loved a 
 lie, it was in those hours of signs and won- 
 ders, that might, if possible, deceive the very 
 elect. 
 
 To my astonishment, the cloud suddenly 
 changed its color : from white it became in- 
 tensely red ; and, in a few moments more, it 
 burst into a flame, and threw a broad reflec- 
 tion upon the whole atmosphere. It was, pal- 
 pably, a vast falchion of fire — the centre of a 
 fiery halo. And from that hour to the last of 
 the glorious and unhappy city of David, that 
 flaming sword, the sign of wrath predicted a 
 thousand years before, blazed day and night 
 over Jerusalem ! 
 
 But its instant effect was terrible. The mul- 
 titude, already indignant against the Romans, 
 and restrained only by my desperate efforts, 
 were now roused to the highest pitch of pre- 
 sumption. To doubt of the help of heaven 
 was impiety, after this open wonder: to spare 
 an hour between this divine command, and 
 the extermination of the idolaters, was sacri- 
 lege. They poured round the unfortunate 
 troop; and instantly overwhelmed them, as 
 an earthquake would have overwhelmed them. 
 A mass of human life, dense as the ground it 
 trod upon, broke over them. The Romans 
 struggled heroically : I saw their charges 
 often make fearful way; and their swords and 
 lances dripping with blood every time that 
 they were whirled round their heads. But 
 the conflict was too unequal ; one by one those 
 brave men were torn down ; I saw them swept 
 along by the torrent, fewer and fewer, still 
 above the living wave; gradually separated 
 more widely from each other, each man faintly 
 struggling for himself, flinging his feeble 
 arms'to the right and left, till, dizzy with fa- 
 tigue and despair, at last down he went, and 
 
 the roaring tide closed over him. All per- 
 ished ; and a day of hope was closed in super- 
 stition, treachery, and inexpiable murder. 
 
 It was night before I could extricate my- 
 self from the tumult. The attempt to save 
 the unfortunate men who so fatally trusted to 
 our good faith, had led me gradually down to 
 the gates ; and the greater portion of the city 
 lay between me and home. To traverse it 
 was still a matter of danger. Furious festi- 
 vity had succeeded to conflict : the roving 
 mountaineers made little difference between 
 a stranger and an enemy ; aruj whether in- 
 flamed with wine, triumph, or the love of vio- 
 lence, the carousers, on that night, were 
 masters of Jerusalem. 
 
 I kept my course through the less frequent- 
 ed ways; and leaving on either side the great 
 avenues, crowded with tents, and glittering 
 with illumination, committed myself to the 
 quiet light of the moon, now touching the 
 eastern verge. 
 
 But in choosing the more solitary streets, 1 
 was, without recollecting it, led into the open 
 place where the late disturbance had begun; 
 and 1 felt some vague dread of passing a spot 
 on which had appeared a being so singular as 
 the leader of the day. 
 
 By a compromise with my prudence, I kept 
 as far from the hillock as possible; and was 
 moving rapidly along beside the wall of one 
 of the huge buildings of Herod, when I felt 
 my robe grasped. In the nervousness of the 
 time, and doubtful from what region of earth or 
 air my antagonist in that place of spells might 
 come, 1 drew my dagger with a sensation 
 that I had never felt in the field, and setting 
 my back against the wall, stood on my defence. 
 But a groan and a fall at my feet made me 
 sheathe the weapon, and ascertain how far I 
 could relieve the sufferer. I raised him from 
 the ground, and by the moon-light recognised 
 the commander of the escort. The dying 
 struggles of his charger had crushed him ; 
 and the multitude, too busy to try whether life 
 was or was not totally extinguished, aban- 
 doned him to his fate. 
 
 To leave him where he was, was to leave 
 him to perish. I owed somethingto the sur- 
 vivor of the unfortunate mission ; and my short 
 consultation closed, by carrying him on my 
 shoulders to the door of my comfortless dwell- 
 ing. 
 
 The Roman had dearly learned to dis- 
 trust Jewish fidelity. The gloom inside the 
 entrance, looked the very color of secret mur- 
 der; and during the time of his transit from 
 the market-place, he had found leisure to con- 
 clude that he was the victim of but a more 
 dexterious assassin, who wished to join the 
 profit of plunder to the national pleasure of 
 revenge. Even the dismantled appearance 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 153 
 
 of the exterior was enough for suspicion ; 
 and he firmly ordered that I should terminate 
 my good offices at the threshold. Irritated 
 and insulted by his obvious meaning, I left 
 him to his wish ; and placing him in the full- 
 est enjoyment of such security as the open 
 street and moon-light could give, took my 
 farewell, bidding him in future have a better 
 opinion of mankind. 
 
 Yet I was to be startled in my turn. As I 
 rather climbed, than ascended, the broken 
 staircase, I saw an unusual light from the 
 chambers above, and heard the sound of voices, 
 and the movement of rapid feet. Accustomed 
 as I was to reverses, I felt tenfold alarm from 
 the preciousness of my stake. The ferocious 
 bands that crowded the streets, inflamed with 
 wine and blood, could have no scruples where 
 plunder tempted them ; and, in the strong 
 persuasion that some misfortune had happened 
 in my long absence, I lingered in doubt, whe- 
 ther I should not return to the streets, collect 
 what assistance I could among the passers-by, 
 and crush the robbers by main force. But 
 sudden exclamations, and hurried feet above, 
 left me no time ; I darted up the shattered 
 steps, and breathlessly threw open the door. 
 
 Well might I wonder. I saw a superb 
 room hung with tapestry ; a table in the cen- 
 tre covered with plate and viands; a rich 
 lamp illuminating the chamber; stately fur- 
 niture ; a fire blazing on a tripod, and throw- 
 ing a cheering warmth and delicious odor 
 round ; and to enjoy all this, not a living 
 creature. 
 
 But whatever my anxieties might be, they 
 were delightfully scattered by the voice of 
 Esther, who came flying towards me with 
 outstretched arms, and a face bright with joy. 
 From the inner chamber followed more mes- 
 sengers of good tidings, Miriam and Salome 
 leading Constantius. They had watched over 
 him from the time of my departure, with a 
 sickly alternation of hope and fear ; as the 
 evening approached, he seemed dying. Sa- 
 lome, with the jealousy of deep sorrow, desir- 
 ed to be left alone with him ; and the two sad 
 listeners at the door expected every moment 
 the cry of agony announcing his irreparable 
 loss. They heard a cry of joy : the torpor was 
 gone ; and Constantius was sitting up, raised 
 to new life, wondering at all round him, and 
 uttering the raptures of gratitude and love. 
 
 The rush of feet that had impelled me to 
 my abrupt entrance, was the haste of my fam- 
 ily to bring the recovered patient in triumph 
 from his weary bed into the view of the com- 
 forts provided for him and me. The change 
 wrought in the chamber itself, was explained 
 by the presence of two old domestics, who, 
 after the flight of the former possessors, had 
 been overlooked, and suffered to hide rather 
 than live in a corner of the ruin. They had 
 
 contrived, in the general spoliation, to secrete 
 some of the precious things which the haste 
 of plunder had not time to seize. The pres- 
 ence of a noble family under the honored roof 
 once more, brought out their feelings and trea- 
 sures together ; and by the graceful dexterity 
 of Miriam and Esther, were those sad and 
 naked walls converted into an apartment not 
 unworthy to be inhabited by themselves. 
 
 While I was indulging in the luxury which 
 those gentle ministers provided, the thought 
 of the unfortunate Roman occured to me. I 
 slightly mentioned him, and every voice was 
 raised to have him brought in from the haz- 
 ards of the night. Constantius, feeble as he 
 was, rose from his couch to assist in this work 
 of hospitality ; but he was under a fond tyrant 
 who would not suffer her Commands to be 
 questioned. Salome’s orders were obeyed ; 
 and to the old domestic and me was destined 
 the undivided honor. 
 
 I found the wounded officer lying on the 
 spot where I had parted with him, gazing on 
 the moon, and humming a gay popular air in 
 a most melancholy tone. He had palpably 
 made up his reckoning with this world ; and, 
 calmly waiting until some Jewish knife should 
 put an end to his song, he determined to save 
 himself from the trouble of thinking, and die 
 like a man who had nothing better to do. But 
 the struggle was against nature ; and as I 
 slowly felt my way along the obscure passage, 
 I had time to hear the song flutter, and now 
 and then a groan supersede it altogether. My 
 step caught his quick ear, and I heard in re- 
 turn the ringing of a sword plucked sharply 
 from the scabbard. 
 
 The bold Roman, reckless as he was of life, 
 was evidently resolved not to let it go without 
 a price ; and it was probably fortunate for me, 
 or my old and tottering fellow-philanthropist, 
 that the ruinous state of the passages com- 
 pelled us to take time in our advance. 
 
 “ Two of them,” I heard him mutter, as 
 we gradually worked our way towards the 
 light, “ two of them, and perhaps twenty at 
 their backs.” He tried to raise himself up 
 against the door-post, leaning on one hand, 
 and with the other feebly pointing the falchion 
 to keep us off “ Thieves,” said he, “ let us 
 understand each other. If you must cut my 
 throat, you must fight for it ; and after all, I 
 have nothing to make it worth your trouble. 
 By Jove and Venus,” and he laughed with 
 the strange jocularity that sometimes besets 
 the bold in the last peril, “ the cleverest rob- 
 ber in Jerusalem could make nothing of me.” I 
 stood in the shadow, listening till he had dis- 
 burdened his soul. “ My clothes would not 
 sell for the smallest coin in your sashes ; 1 
 could not furnish out a scarecrow ; — yet, Jew- 
 ish patriots, or thieves, or saints, or all together, 
 I will tell you how you can make money of 
 
154 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 me. Take me to the Roman camp, and I an- 
 swer for your fortune on the spot.” I laugh- 
 ed in my turn. “ By all that’s honest, I never 
 was more serious in my life,” said he. “ Far 
 be it from me to trifle with heroes of your pro- 
 fession. You shall have this helmet-full of 
 gold Vespasians.” 
 
 “ Well, then, you shall live at least for to- 
 night. However, there is one condition which 
 I cannot give up — ” 
 
 “Of course, that I give you two helmets- 
 full instead of one. Agreed.” 
 
 “ The condition from which nothing can 
 make me recede is — ” 
 
 “Three times the money ; or ten times the 
 money ?” I pondered. The old domestic 
 stared at us both. 
 
 “ Why ; you extravagant Jew, have you no 
 conscience 1 Recollect how little the lives of 
 half the generals in the service are worth half 
 the sum. But, say any thing short of the mili- 
 tary chest — out with the condition at once.” 
 
 “ That you come instantly with me to sup- 
 per.” 
 
 The formidable stipulation was gaily acced- 
 ed to. The old domestic and I supported him 
 up the stairs, whose condition, as he afterwards 
 allowed, led him still to nurture shrewd doubts 
 of Jewish hospitality. But, when I opened 
 the door of the chamber, and he saw the strik- 
 ing preparations within, he uttered a cry of 
 surprise ; and turning, bowed with Italian 
 grace, in tacit acknowledgment of the wrong 
 that he had done me. 
 
 As I led him forward, and the light fell on 
 his features, I saw Esther’s countenance glow 
 with crimson. The Roman pronounced her 
 name and flew over to her. Miriam — we all, 
 in the same moment, recognized the stranger, 
 and every lip at once uttered “ Septimius !” 
 
 A few campaigns in the imperial guard had 
 changed the handsome Italian boy, the friend 
 and favorite of Constantius, into the showy 
 officer, the friend and favorite of every body ; 
 with the elegance of the court, and the free- 
 dom of the camp, he had inherited from na- 
 ture the easy lightness and animation of tem- 
 per, that neither can give. Nothing could be 
 more amusing than the restless round of anec- 
 dote that he kept up through the night. The 
 circle in which he found himself, contrasted 
 with the wretchedness of the few hours before, 
 let his recollections flow with wild vivacity. 
 His stories, however exhausted in the society 
 of the imperial tent, were new to us, and he 
 told them with the taste of a man of high 
 breeding, and a sarcastic finish of a keen ob- 
 server of the absurdities that will creep in 
 among the mighty and the wise of the world. 
 
 In our several ways he delighted us all. 
 Constantius seemed to gain years of health, 
 laughing at the ludicrous histories of his mili- 
 tary friends. Salome’s face glistened with 
 
 the vividness so long chased away by sorrow, 
 as the manners of Rome passed before her in 
 the liveliest colors of pleasantry. Esther trea- 
 sured every word, with an emotion that fluc- 
 tuated across her beauty, like the opening and 
 shutting of a rose under the evening breeze. 
 I was interested by the pungent sketches of 
 public character, that started up in the midst 
 ,of sportive description. Miriam alone was re- 
 jluctant, and her glance frequently rested with 
 pain on Esther’6 hectic cheek; but even Mi- 
 riam sometimes gave way to the voice of the 
 charmer; her fears were forgotten, and she 
 [ joined in the general smile. 
 
 When the females retired, we held a short 
 consultation on the means of restoring our 
 guest to his friends. In the immediate dis- 
 turbance of the city, to be seen was to en- 
 counter certain death ; and no pacific inter- 
 course with the besiegers could be expected 
 after our enormous infraction of treaty. Con- 
 stantius urged the despatch of a private messen- 
 ger to the camp, with some proposals of a plan 
 for his escape. To my surprise, and certain- 
 ly to my gratification, Septimius himself flatly 
 negatived the measure. 
 
 “ It has too much hazard for my taste,” said 
 he, sportively. “ Your messenger will proba- 
 bly be caught by the people, and as probably 
 hanged : or, if he reach the camp, he will be 
 hanged there inevitably. Jewish credit in 
 general, does not stand high within these 
 twelve hours with my countrymen. If the 
 fellow die here like a woman, — with a story 
 in his mouth, you will be brought under the 
 justice of your sovereign lord, the mob, aiid 
 there will be an end to every human being 
 belonging to you. If my countrymen inflict 
 the axe, you are not the safer ; for every pea- 
 sant about the camp is a spy, and the news will 
 travel here in the next half hour ; and, after 
 all, your trouble will be thrown away. Titus 
 has good-nature enough, and probably would 
 not wish to see me hoisted on the top of a pike 
 on your gates ; but he is a furious disciplina- 
 rian, swears by the law of honor and arms, 
 and is, I well know, chafing, like a roused 
 lion, against every one who has had a share 
 ; in this day’s business. I myself should have 
 a chance of hanging for an example, if 1 re- 
 turned before his sovereign displeasure had 
 time to cool. My relationship to him would 
 ( be only a feather in the cap of his military 
 stoicism : and minor personages would be 
 ; warned against ill luck by the sight of the pen- 
 dent blood imperial. So, I must trespass on 
 your hospitality for a day or two.” 
 
 “ But what is to be finally done?” said I. 
 “ The armistice can never be tried again.” 
 
 “Why not? Do you think that the loss 
 of a few troopers can make any difference? 
 
 | Out of twenty thousand cavalry we can. easily 
 spare a hundred. Those things have happen- 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 155 
 
 ed once a week since the beginning of the 
 campaign. They agree witli our notions ad- 
 mirably. The survivers get promotion ; and 
 whatever libation they may offer for their good 
 luck, it is certainly not tears. A stupid officer, 
 and on this occasion I fairly reckon myself 
 among the number, is taken off the roll before 
 he might have the opportunity of doing mis- 
 chief by some blunder on a larger scale : ex- 
 perience is gained ; dinners are given by the 
 successors ; we are entrapped no more, at 
 least in the same way ; and a parcel of unfor- 
 tunates, who have spent half their lives in 
 railing at the world, and being browbeat by 
 their superiors, suddenly start into rank, be- 
 come superiors themselves, learn to browbeat 
 in their turn, and bless the day when the wheel 
 of fortune, if it rolled down for others, rolled 
 up for them. You will have the armistice 
 again in a week.” 
 
 The ease of this confession of soldership 
 repelled me a little ; but its air of frankness 
 and disregard of chance and care, carried it 
 off showily. I too was but a peasant soldier, 
 with my heart in every thing. The man be- 
 fore me was a son of the camp, the profes- 
 sional warrior, whose business it was to stifle 
 all feelings but those of the camp. Yet, 
 heroism and hard-heartedness ! — I could not 
 join them. I had still something to learn ; 
 and the gay philosopher of the sword lost 
 ground with me. 
 
 I was retiring for the night ; when I felt 
 the soft hand of Miriam on my shoulder, — “I 
 have been anxious,” said she, “ to ask your 
 opinion about this Roman.” Her fine counte- 
 nance, that reflected every emotion of her 
 spirit like a mirror, showed that the subject 
 wa? one of deep interest. “ Is misfortune al- 
 ways to pursue us, Salathiel 1” “ In what pos- 
 sible shape at present 1” said I. “ We have 
 spent some hours as amusinsr as I ever remem- 
 ber. What can have occurred since this 
 morning, when your philosophy made so light 
 of our actual evils'?” “ For external evils I 
 have but little feeling,” was her answer : but 
 I see in the chance that brought Septimius 
 here to-night something of the fate which you 
 have so often said follows your house. I trem- 
 ble for Esther’s peace of mind. What if she 
 should be attracted by this Roman ?” 
 
 “Esther! my darling Esther! love an alien? 
 a Roman idolator ? What an abyss you open 
 before me !” 
 
 “ While Septimius remained among us in 
 the mountains, I saw with terror that Esther’s 
 beauty attracted him. His Italian elegance 
 was even then a dangerous charm for a mind 
 so inexperienced and sensitive as her’s. I 
 knew the impossibility of their union, and re- 
 joiced when his recovery allowed of his leav- 
 ing the palace. But, for a long period after, 
 Esther was evidently unhappy ; her spirits 
 11 
 
 gave way : she became fonder of solitude ; 
 and I believe that nothing but extreme care, 
 and the change of scene which followed, pre- 
 served her from the grave.” 
 
 | “ Miriam ! I have no comfort to offer. 1 
 
 am a stricken man ; misfortune must be my 
 portion. But, if any thing were to bereave 
 me of that girl, I feel that my heart would 
 break. We must delay no longer. By the 
 first light the Roman shall quit this house, — 
 this city. He shall not stay another hour to 
 poison the peace of my family: the only peace 
 that I now can consider or enjoy in the world.” 
 “ Yet, rashness must not disgrace what is 
 true wisdom, my Salathiel. The Roman is 
 here protected by the laws of courtesy. You 
 cannot send him forth without giving him over 
 to the horrid temper of the populace. A few 
 days may make that escape easy, which would 
 now be impossible. Besides, I may have done 
 him injustice, and mistaken the common plea- 
 sure of seeing unexpected friends, for the at- 
 tempt to mislead the affections of our inno- 
 cent and ardent child.” 
 
 “No! By the first light, he leaves this 
 roof. The truth glares on me. I might have 
 seen it in his looks. His language, however 
 general, was perpetually directed to Esther 
 by some personal allusion. His voice lost its 
 ease when he answered a remark of her’s. 
 After she spoke, he affected abstraction; an 
 old artifice. His manner is too well calcu- 
 lated to disturb the mind of woman — and most 
 of all, of woman cursed with feeling and ge- 
 nius. Esther has already imagined this bril- 
 liant profligate into a wonder! I must break 
 the spell, or she must perish. What is to be- 
 come of her? of me? man of misery ! — By the 
 first dawn the Roman takes his departure.” 
 In bitterness of soul I turned from the cham- 
 ber, where the lamps, still burning, and the 
 glittering table, looked too bright for the 
 gloomy spirit of the hour. The cool air that 
 breathed through a casement led me towards 
 it ; and, disinclined to speak, and holding 
 Miriam’s hand, I listened to the confused and 
 sleepy murmurs of the city below. 
 
 I felt the hand in mine tremble convulsive- 
 ly. Miriam’s face was pale with fear ; she 
 stood with lips apart and breathless ; brows 
 knitted ; eyes straining upwards. In utter 
 alarm, I asked the cause. She lifted the 
 hand, which had fallen by her side, and slow- 
 ly, like the staff of the soothsayer, pointed to 
 the heavens. The cause was there. The omi- 
 nous sword had, for the first time, met her eye. 
 The blaze, which even in noon-day was fear- 
 fully visible, in midnight was tremendous. A 
 blade, of the deepest hue of gore, stretched 
 over the vast horizon, pouring from its edge 
 perpetual streams and showers of crimson 
 I flame, that looked like showers of fresh blood. 
 Boundless slaughter was in the emblem. Be- 
 
156 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 yond it the circle of the sky was wan ; the 
 stars sickened ; and the moon, though at the 
 full, hung like an orb of lead. The mighty 
 falchion, the pledge of a terrible and inevita- 
 ble judgment, extinguished all the beneficent 
 splendors of heaven. 
 
 “ There, there is the sign that I have seen 
 for months in my dreams,” said Miriam, in an 
 awed voice; “ that has haunted me whenever 
 I laid my head upon my pillow ; that has been 
 before me in the day, wherever I moved ; that 
 I have seen coloring every object, every mo- 
 ment of my life, since I entered these fated 
 walls. I have struggled to drive away the 
 horrid image ; I have wept and prayed. But 
 it was where nothing could unfix it. It was 
 pictured on my mind; and with it came other 
 images, fearful, though they brought me no 
 terrors. Melancholy sights to those who have 
 no hope but here; yet glorious to the servants 
 of the truth, Salathiel. I have had warnings. 
 I must never leave the city of David.” Sire 
 knelt, in the deep prayer of the soul. 
 
 1 Her words came on me with the power of 
 prophecy. “ King and Protector of Israel !” 
 I exclaimed, “ is this to be the suffering of 
 thy holy ones'? On me let thy will be done. 
 But, spare her who now kneels before thee. 
 Are the pure to be given into the hands of the 
 merciless, and thy children to be trampled as 
 the ashes of the pile !” 
 
 My impatient voice caught Miriam’s ear, 
 and she arose with a countenance beaming 
 wisdom and love. 
 
 “Salathiel, we must not murmur. Even 
 that sight of awe, that terrible emblem, has 
 taught me the selfishness of my anxieties. 
 What are our petty, personal sorrows to the 
 weight of affliction figured in that in- 
 strument of supreme wrath ? The woe of 
 millions, the blood of a nation, the ruin of the 
 glorious fabric built by the hands of the Eter- 
 nal for his glory and the good of mankind, the 
 fall of Israel, is written in letters of flame be- 
 fore our eyes ; and can I complain of the 
 chances and hazards which may fall to my 
 share ? Henceforth, my husband and my 
 love,” and she threw herself into my willing 
 arms, “you shall never be disturbed with my 
 griefs ; exercise your own powerful under- 
 standing, guard against evil by your talents 
 and knowledge of life, as far as it can be guard- 
 ed against by man: and beyond that, disdain 
 to repine or fear. In my supplication I have 
 committed our child into the hands of Him 
 who sitteth on the circle of eternity !” 
 
 Quivering with every finer feeling of the 
 heart, maternal love, matron faith, and grate- 
 ful adoration, she hung upon my neck, until,' 
 as if a portion of her noble spirit had passed 
 into mine, I felt a confidence and consolation 
 .ike her own. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 I was spared the ungraciousness of urging 
 the young soldier’s departure ; for when I met 
 him next morning, his first topic was the 
 means of escape. He had been since day- 
 break examining from my turrets the acces- 
 sible passages of the fortifications, and had 
 even, by the help of a peasant, despatched a 
 letter to his friends, requesting either a formal 
 demand of his person from the Jews, or some 
 private effort to extricate him. 
 
 But, with the night the glow of soldiership 
 was gone. In the fall of his charger he had 
 been violently bruised. He complained of in- 
 ward suffering, and his pallid face and feeble 
 words gave painful proof that he had still much 
 to undergo. Though, even if he were perfectly 
 recovered, the crowded battlements and the 
 popular rage, showed the impossibility of im- 
 mediate return. 
 
 Three days passed thus drearily. At home 
 I was surrounded by sickness, or vexed by sus- 
 picion, the worse sickness of the mind. Sep- 
 timius lay in his chamber, struggling to laugh, 
 talk, and read away the heavy hours; and, 
 finally, like all such strugglers, giving up the 
 task in despair; his ideas were in the Roman 
 camp. He professed gratitude of the deepest 
 nature for the service that I had done him now 
 for the second time; “if saving so unimpor- 
 tant a life was a service either to him or any 
 one else. Yet, he almost wished that he had 
 been left where he was found. A man could 
 not finish his course better than among his 
 gallant comrades; and with all his anxiety 
 to return, he felt no trivial concern as to the 
 view which Titus might take of the whole 
 unfortunate affair. Of justice he was secure; 
 but to be questioned for his military conduct, 
 was in itself a degradation. The loss of Sem- 
 pronius, too, a most confidential friend and 
 counsellor of the Emperor, would weigh heavi- 
 ly ; — while there was nothing but his own 
 testimony to sustain his honor against the 
 crowd of secret enemies, which every man of 
 military rank was certain to have. In short,” 
 said he, “ on my sleepless couch, I haveturn- 
 ed true penitent for the foolish curiosity, or 
 boyish desire, of mixing myself with public 
 'matters, or extravagant illusion, which 
 prompted me to volunteer, nay, solicit the 
 command of an escort, which would have 
 been by right put under the care of some 
 mere tribune.” 
 
 I tried to cheer him, by saying that his 
 had been only the natural desire of an active 
 mind to see so singular a scene as our city 
 offered ; or the honorable wish of a soldier 
 to be foremost 'wherever there was any thing 
 to be done. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 “ It was more than either,” said he ; “ there 
 was actual illusion in the case. I now feel 
 that I was practised upon. You know the 
 trange concourse of all kinds of people that 
 How a camp for all kinds of purposes. — 
 lunderers, traders, and jugglers, crowding 
 our movements, as regularly as the crows, 
 and with nearly the same objects. For a week 
 past, I had found myself beset by an old, gib- 
 bering slave of this class. Wherever I rode, 
 the fellow was before my eyes; he contrived 
 to mingle with my servants, and became a 
 sort of favorite, by selling them counterfeit 
 rings and gems at ten times their value. The 
 wretch was clever too; and as my tent hours 
 began to be disturbed by the uhusual gaiety 
 of the listeners to his lies, I ordered him to 
 be flogged out of the lines. But twelve hours 
 had not passed, before I found him gamboling 
 again ; and was about to order the instant in- 
 fliction of the discipline, when he threw him- 
 self on the ground, and implored ‘ a moment 
 of my secret ear.’ Conceive who the fellow 
 was 7” 
 
 “ The impostor that harangued in the 
 square !” 
 
 “ The very man. He told me that there 
 were certain contrivances on foot, to bring 
 me into disfavor with the general; which 1 
 knew to be the fact. He gave me the names 
 of the parties, which I felt to be sufficiently 
 probable; and finished by saying, that having 
 so long eaten of my bread, (a week,) and 
 enjoyed my liberality, (the promise of the 
 whip,) he longed to show his gratitude, 
 by giving me an opportunity of putting 
 my enemies to silence on the spot. This 
 opportunity was, to solicit the command of the 
 escort required for the mission. How he 
 gained his wisdom, I know not; but I took 
 the advice, went instantly to Titus, found that 
 an armistice was being debated in council, 
 that there was some difficulty in the choice of 
 an officer for a service, by no means likely to 
 be a sinecure in point of either judgment or 
 hazard ; stepped forward, and, to the surprise 
 of every body, disclaimed the privileges of my 
 rank, and insisted on marching at the head of 
 this handful, this centurion’s guard, into the 
 formidable city of Jerusalem.” 
 
 “ His object of course was your destruction. 
 I now see the cause of the harangue that 
 roused the people ; he was in the pay of the 
 conspirators against you. Yet his appearance 
 was striking; there was a vigor about his look 
 and language, a fierce consciousness of power 
 somewhere, that distinguished him from his 
 race. He came too, and disappeared, without 
 my being able to discover whence or wither.” 
 “ O, the commonest contrivance of his trade. 
 Those fellows always come and g 0 i n a cloud, 
 if they can. He was probably beside you 
 half the day before and after. You saw how 
 
 little he thought of the lance that I sent to 
 bring out his secrets. He doubtless wore a 
 corslet. Otherwise there would have been 
 one juggler the less in the world. The truth 
 is, I have been duped, but I have made up my 
 mind to think nothing about the dupery. The 
 slave is certainly clever, perhaps to an extra- 
 ordinary degree — a knave undoubtedly, and 
 of the first magnitude. But he has the secret 
 of the cabal against me ; and that secret makes 
 him at once fit to be employed, and dangerous 
 to be provoked. The blow of the lance yes- 
 terday showed him that I am not always to be 
 trifled with. In fact, prince, you might find it 
 advantageous to employ him occasionally 
 yourself It was he who conveyed my letter 
 to the camp this morning!” 
 
 My look probably expressed my alarm at 
 this species of envoy. 
 
 “ You may rely on my honor,” said the Ro- 
 man, “ not to involve you in any of the fellow’s 
 inventions. Slippery as he is, 1 have a hold 
 on him too, that he will not venture to shake 
 off. And now, to let you into full confidence; 
 I expect him back this very night, when he 
 will relieve your city of an inhabitant unwor- 
 thy of remaining among so polished a people, 
 and your house, my prince, of an inmate, than 
 whom none on earth can be more grateful for 
 your hospitality.” 
 
 He concluded this mixture of levity, address, 
 and frankness, with a smile, and in a tone of 
 elegance, that compelled me to take it all on 
 the more favorable side. But against suffer- 
 ing the step of his strange emissary to pol- 
 lute the threshold in which I lived, I expres- 
 sed my plain determination. 
 
 “ For that too, I have provided,” said he. 
 “ My intercourse with the reprobate is to take 
 place at another quarter of the city, as far as 
 possible,” and he laughed, “for reasons equally 
 of mine and yours, from this dwelling. I have 
 managed matters so as not to compromise any 
 of my friends ; and, to make my arrangements 
 on that point still more secure, may I express 
 a wish that neither Constantius nor any other 
 person of your house may be acquainted with 
 my intention of leaving them, and, I may sin- 
 cerely say, leaving every thing that could 
 gratify my best feelings, — this very evening.” 
 
 This was an easy and graceful avoidance 
 of the difficulties which his longer residence 
 threatened. I gave him the promise of se- 
 crecy, cautioning him against reposing any 
 dangerous confidence in his emissary, of whom 
 I had an irrepressible abhorrence ; and was 
 about to leave the chamber, when he caught 
 my hand, and said, in unusual emotion — 
 
 “ Prince of Naphtali, I have but one more 
 word to say. You are a man of the world, 
 and can make allowance for the giddiness of 
 human passions. Some of them are uncon- 
 trollable, or at least, which I have never 
 
Salalhiel. 
 
 learned to control ; and in me perhaps belong 
 to inferiority of mind. But if on my depar- 
 ture, you should hear calumnies against 
 me — ” 
 
 “ Impossible, my young friend; or ifl should, 
 you may rely on my giving the calumniators 
 a very brief answer.” 
 
 “ Or, if even yourself should be disposed to 
 think severely of me ; — you know the circum- 
 stances under which a man of birth and for- 
 tune must be placed, in our profession.” 
 
 “ f do; and am much more disposed to re- 
 gret, than to wonder at the consequences.” 
 
 “ If you should hear that I had been as- 
 sailed, in an evil hour, by an unexpected 
 temptation, which I had long labored to re- 
 sist; assailed by it under the most powerful 
 circumstances that ever yet tasked the hu- 
 man mind ; circumstances to which, from the 
 beginning of the world, wisdom has been pro- 
 verbially folly, and resolution weakness ; if it 
 should have mastered my whole being — spirit, 
 soul, and body ; if I were willing to give up 
 the brightest prospects for its possession — to 
 hazard life, hope, honors — ” 
 
 The thought of Esther smote me. I started 
 from him, where he stood, with his fine head 
 drooping like the Antinous, and his figure 
 the very emblem of passionate dejection. 
 “ Roman, you are here as my guest ; and as 
 such I have listened to you with patience, 
 until now. But, if any member of my family 
 is concerned in what you say ; I desire, in 
 the most distinct terms, that the subject shall 
 be mentioned no more. The daughters of 
 Israel are sacred. Never shall a child of 
 mine wed with those who now lord it over 
 my unhappy country.” 
 
 He spread his hands and eyes in the broad- 
 est astonishment. “ Prince, can it be possi- 
 ble that you have so totally mistaken me! 
 My perplexities are of an entirely different 
 nature. Do me justice; I laugh at the tri- 
 flings of human passion, as unworthy of men 
 of common sense. And, allowing, as every 
 man of taste must allow, the beauty of the 
 females of your distinguished house, believe 
 me, that I have been too busy with matters 
 of painful interest, to have given more than a 
 glance at their unquestionable attractions. 
 Now ; let us understand each other, as sol- 
 diers and men of honor. The chain with 
 which I am bound is not of roses, but of iron ; 
 a chain of invisible, yet stern influences, that 
 haunt my night, and even my day. Right 
 glad should I be, to find myself free enough 
 from that hideous bond, to be capable of ad- 
 miring the beauty of woman.” His voice 
 faltered, and he turned away with a shudder, 
 as from a visionary tormentor. 
 
 “ What ! has that accursed dealer in spells, 
 that man of desperate arts, if he be man, in- 
 
 volved you too in his net! I know the super- 
 stitions of your country ; and how deeply they 
 darken the understanding. But dares the 
 imposter soar so high !” 
 
 He shook from head to foot; and clasped 
 his hands with the violence of despair. “You 
 saw how he defied, how he mocked at me, 
 how he spurned me when my abhorrence 
 rose to the madness of attempting to strike 
 him. I might as well have flung the wea- 
 pon at the clouds. You saw the instinctive 
 terror of my charger. That animal was 
 celebrated in our whole cavalry for its bold, 
 nay, furious, spirit. Yet, before the eye of 
 that man of power and evil, it cowered like a 
 hare, and died of his glance. By him the 
 temptation has been offered ; of its nature I 
 dare not speak; but it is dazzling, fearful, 
 and must, I feel it — must finally be fatal.” 
 
 “ Then cast it from you at once. Be a man 
 — a hero.” 
 
 “It is hopeless — I must be the victim; I 
 am bound irretrievably. Farewell, prince; 
 we shall see each other no more.” 
 
 He flung himself upon the couch. I of- 
 fered him assistance, advice, consolation, in 
 vain. The spirit of the soldier was ex- 
 tinguished. The victim of fantastic illusion 
 lay before me. I left him to the care of the 
 old domestic ; and when I closed the door, 
 thought that I had closed the door of the 
 grave. 
 
 During this period the city presented the 
 turbulent aspect that must result from the 
 concourse of vast and warlike multitudes, 
 nearly strangers to each other, or known on 
 ly by hereditary bickerings. The pride of 
 the clansmen of Judah looked down upot 
 every human being, and his countrymen 
 among the rest. The Benjamite retorted it, 
 boasted of the inheritance of Jerusalem, and 
 looked down upon the men of the Galilees as 
 rioters and plunderers. These too had their 
 objects of scorn ; and the remnants of the 
 tribes of Dan and Ephraim were held in mer- 
 ciless disdain, as the descendants of rebels 
 and idolaters. To deepen those ancient feuds 
 were thrown in the mutual injuries of the 
 factions of John and Simon. Their leaders 
 were now but the shadow of what they had 
 been ; yet the memory of their mischiefs sur- 
 vived with a keenness aggravated by the pub- 
 lic discovery of the miserable insignificance 
 of the instruments. 
 
 Power and genius in the tyrant offer the 
 consolation, that if the chain have galled us, 
 it has been bound by a hand made for supre- 
 macy. The last misery of the slave is to 
 have been bound by a creature even more 
 contemptible than himself; to have given to 
 folly the homage due to talent ; to have 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 W 
 
 stooped before meanness, and trembled under 
 the frown of the feeble. 
 
 The obvions losses and alarm of the enemy, 
 who had now totally withdrawn from the 
 plain, and were occupied with raising rampart 
 on rampart round their several camps; the 
 triumph over the unfortunate troop ; and the 
 excitement of a crowd of diviners, pretended 
 prophets, and frantic visionaries, filled the 
 populace with every vanity of conquest. — 
 The constant exclamation in the streets was 
 — “Let us march to storm the camps, and 
 drive the idolator into the sea !” But the new 
 luxuries of the city were too congenial, not 
 to act as formidable rivals to the popular am- 
 bition. No leader appeared ; the boastings 
 passed away ; and the boiling temperament of 
 the warrior had time to run into the safer 
 channel of words and wine. 
 
 Yet, one melancholy remembrancer was 
 there. Through the midst of the wildest fes- 
 tivity, through the groups of drinking, danc- 
 ing, bravadoing, and quarreling, Sabat the 
 lshmaelite moved, day by day, from dawn till 
 evening, pouring out his sentences of con- 
 demnation. Nothing could be more singular, 
 nor more awful, than his figure; as the de- 
 nouncer of ruin hurried along, like a being 
 denuded of all objects in life but the one. — 
 The multitude, in their most extravagant ex 
 cess, felt undissembled fear before him. 1 
 have seen the most ferocious tumult stilled 
 by the distant sound of his portentous voice. 
 The dagger was instantly sheathed, the head 
 buried in the garment; the form often pros- 
 trate until he passed by. Where he went, 
 the song of license was dumb ; the dance 
 ceased; the cup fell from the hand, and many 
 a lip of violence and blasphemy quivered with 
 long-forgotten prayer. 
 
 How he sustained life, none could tell. — 
 He was reduced to the thinnest anatomy; his 
 eye had the yellow glare of blindness; his 
 once raven hair was of the whiteness of flax. 
 He was an animated corpse. But he still had 
 the stride of a giant; he drove onward with 
 a force which, if few attempted to resist, none 
 seemed able to withstand ; his gestures were 
 rapid and nervous in an extraordinary degree, 
 and his voice was overwhelming. It had the 
 rush and volume of a powerful gust of wind. 
 Even in the hubbub of the day, through the in- 
 numerable noises of the streets, it was audible 
 from the remotest quarters of the city. I have 
 heard it through the tread and shouts of fifty 
 thousand marching men. But, in twilight and 
 silence, the eternal “ Wo — wo — wo” howled 
 along the air with a sound that told of noth- 
 ing human. 
 
 His unfortunate bride still followed him; 
 never uttering a word, never looking but on 
 him. She glided along with him in his swift- 
 est course, as bound by a spell to wander 
 
 where he wandered, an unconcious slave ; 
 her form almost a shadow; without a sound, 
 a gesture or a glance ; her feet alone moved. 
 
 I often attempted to render this undone 
 pair some assistance. Sabat recognised me, 
 and returned brief thanks ; and perhaps I was 
 the only man in Jerusalem to whom he vouch- 
 safed either thanks or memory. But he uni- 
 formly refused aid of every kind, and re- 
 proaching himself for the moment given to 
 human recollections, burst away, and began 
 his denunciation of “ Wo — wo — wo !” 
 
 The hope of treaty with the besiegers was 
 now nearly desperate ; yet I felt so deeply the 
 ruin that must follow protracted war, that I 
 had labored with incessant anxiety to bring 
 the people to a sense of their situation. My 
 name was high ; my decided refusal of all 
 command or public rank gave me an influence 
 which threw more grasping ambition into the 
 shade; and the leading men of Jerusalem 
 were glad to delegate their power to me, with 
 the double objectof relieving themselves from 
 an effort to which they were unequal, and 
 from a responsibility under which even their 
 covetousness and pride had begun to tremble. 
 
 But Jerusalem was not to be saved ; there 
 was an opposing fatality — an irresistible, in- 
 tangible power, arrayed against my efforts. 
 I felt it at my first step. If I had been tread- 
 ing on the vault of a volcano, and heard it 
 roar under me, I could not have been made 
 more sensible of the hollowness and hopeless- 
 ness of every effort to save the nation. In 
 the midst of our most according council some 
 luckless impediment was sure to start up. — 
 While we seemed on the verge of conciliating 
 and securing the most important interests, to 
 that verge we were forbidden to approach. — 
 Communications actually commenced with 
 the Roman general, and which promised the 
 most certain results, were broken offj none 
 could tell how. There was an antagonist 
 somewhere, but beyond our grasp; a hostility 
 as powerful, as constant, and as little capa- 
 ble of being counteracted as the hostility of 
 the plague. 
 
 After my final conversation with Septimius, 
 I had spent the day in one of those perplexing 
 deliberations, and was returning with a weary 
 heart ; when, in an obscure street leading to 
 the Upper City, I was roused from my reve- 
 rie by the sound of one of our mountain songs. 
 Music has been among my chief solaces 
 through existence, and the song of Naphtali 
 at that moment of depression, keenly moved 
 me. I stopped to listen, in front of the min- 
 strel’s tent, in which a circle of soldiers and 
 shepherds from the Galilees were sitting over 
 their cups. His skill deserved a higher au- 
 dience. He touched his little harp with ele- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 gance, to a voice that reminded me of the 
 sportiveness and wild melody of a bird in 
 spring. The moon-light shone through the 
 tent ; and, as the boy sat under the large 
 white folds in the fantastic dress of his art, a 
 loose vermillion robe, belted with sparkling 
 stones, and turban of yellow silk, that drooped 
 upon his shoulder like a golden pinion, he re- 
 sembled the Persian pictures of the Peri em- 
 bosomed in the bell of the lily. The rude 
 and dark-featured listeners around him might 
 well have sat for the swart demons submissive 
 to his will. 
 
 But thoughts soon returned that were not 
 to be soothed by music ; and, throwing some 
 pieces of money to the boy, 1 hastened on. — 
 The departure of the young Roman, and the 
 influence that it might have on my family, 
 and peculiarly on the mind of a creature dou- 
 bly endeared to me by a strange and melan- 
 choly similitude to the temper of my own ex- 
 citable mind, deeply occupied me ; and it was 
 even with some presentiment of evil that I 
 reached home. 
 
 The first sound that I heard was the lam- 
 entation of the old domestics. But J could 
 not wait to solve their unintelligible attempts 
 to explain the disaster. I flew to my family. 
 Miriam was absorbed in profound sorrow ; 
 Salome was in loud affliction. Dreading ev- 
 ery thing that could be told me, yet with that 
 sullen hardihood which long misfortune gives, 
 I took my wife’s hands, and, in a voice strug- 
 gling for composure, desired her to tell me 
 the worst at once. 
 
 “ Esther is gone !” was her answer. She 
 could articulate no more; the effort to speak 
 this shook her whole frame. But Salome 
 broke out into loud reprobation of the base- 
 ness of the wretch who had turned our hospi- 
 tality into a snare; and whose life, twice saved, 
 was employed only to bring misery on his 
 preserver. 
 
 The blow fell upon me with the keenness 
 of a sword. “ Was Esther, was my daugh- 
 ter, my innocent, darling Esther, consenting 
 to this flight:” 
 
 “ I know not,” said Miriam. “1 dare not ask 
 myself the question. Tf she can have forgotten 
 her duty, to follow the stranger; if she can 
 have left her parents ! — no ; it must have been 
 through some horrid artifice. But the thought 
 is too bitter. Raise no more such thoughts in 
 my mind.” 
 
 She sank in silence. But Salome was not 
 to be restrained. She asserted the total im- 
 possibility of Esther’s having thrown off her 
 allegiance to religion and filial duty. “ She 
 must have been either,” said this generous 
 and enthusiastic being, “subjected to those 
 dreadful arts in which the idolators deal, and 
 deluded by visions and evil powers; or carried 
 away by actual force. Constantius has gone 
 
 already in search of her ; feeble as he is, he 
 determined to discover the robbers; and though 
 his steps were tottering, and the effort may 
 hazard his life, he would not be restrained, 
 nor would I restrain him, where I should have 
 so much rejoiced to hazard my own.” 
 
 I rose to depart. Miriam clung to me. — 
 “Must I lose all, Salathiel?” 
 
 “ I am the guilty one, wife ! I should have 
 guarded against this. I alone am to blame. 
 Those tears reproach me more deeply than all 
 the words in the world. I will recover Esther. 
 Without her we all should be miserable. The 
 Roman General is just. I will demand her 
 of Septimius in his presence. Miriam ! you 
 shall see your child. Salome ! you shall see 
 your sister. And now, come to rny heart — 
 come both ; my last hope of happiness, the 
 remnant of all that once promised to fill my 
 declining days with peace and prosperity. — 
 Weep no more; Miriam! Salome! I must 
 not be unmanned at this time of trial. Go to 
 your chambers, and pray for me. — Farewell !” 
 
 It was nearly midnight, and the city sounds 
 were hushed, except where the crowds, which 
 still poured in, struggledfor their quarters. — 
 The very fear of being thus disturbed kept 
 up the disturbance of the population; and in 
 the leading avenues the tents showed fierce 
 watchers against this violence, sitting round 
 their tables, until wine either sent them to 
 sleep, or roused them into daggers-drawing. 
 Subordination was at an end ; plunder and 
 blood were to be dreaded by every man who 
 ventured among those champions of freedom 
 and property; and more than once this night 
 I was compelled to show that I wore a wea- 
 pon. 
 
 But the disorder which left the city a seat 
 of dissolute riot was not suffered to interfere 
 with the actual defence. That singular mix- 
 ture of rabble giddiness and sacred care, 
 which distinguished my countrymen above all 
 nations, was fully displayed in those final 
 hours; and the walls that inclosed a million 
 of rioters and robbers, were guarded with 
 the solemn vigilance of a sanctuary. 
 
 No argument could prevail with the pea- 
 santry at the gate to let me pass. My rank, 
 and even my public name, went for little in 
 the scale, against the possibility of my renew- 
 ing the treaty with an enemy whom they now 
 scorned; and I was doubting whether I must 
 not lose the night by the reluctance of those 
 rough but honest sentinels, when I was 
 cheered by seeing one of the head-men of 
 their tribe arrive. He had been a furious poli- 
 tician ; honor and honesty were his declared 
 worship, and his horror of humbler motives 
 was fierceness itself. This was enough for 
 me. I knew what public vehemence means. 
 I took him aside ; without ceremony put gold 
 into his grasp ; and saw the gate thrown open 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 161 
 
 before me by the immaculate hand of the pa- 
 triotic Jonathan. 
 
 But while I had scarcely congratulated 
 myself on having passed this formidable bar- 
 rier, and was still within the defences, the 
 trampling of horse echoed on the road. The 
 night was clear, and there was no hope of 
 avoiding them, inclosed as I was with walls. 
 A large body of Idumean horsemen came on, 
 escorting wagons of provision. The foremost 
 riders were half asleep, and I was in strong 
 hope of eluding them all, when one of the 
 drivers, in the wantonness of authority, laid 
 his whip on me. I rashly returned the blow, 
 and the man fell off his horse insensible. I 
 was surrounded, charged with murder ; was 
 brought before their chieftain, and found that 
 chieftain Onias ! 
 
 My old enemy recognized me instantly; 
 and, with undying revenge firing every fea- 
 ture, demanded whither I was going. 
 
 “ To the Roman camp,” was the direct an- 
 swer. 
 
 “ The purpose 1” 
 
 “ To have an interview with the Roman 
 general.” 
 
 “ You come deputed by the authorities 1” 
 
 “ By not one of them.” 
 
 “ I long ago knew you to be a bold fellow, 
 but you exceed my opinion. We cannot 
 spare heroes from Jerusalem at this time; so, 
 you must turn back with us.” 
 
 “By what right 1” 
 
 “ By the right of the stronger.” 
 
 “ With what object!” 
 
 “That you may be hung as a deserter. It 
 will save you the trouble of going to Titus 
 to be hanged as a spy.” 
 
 I disdained reply; and in the midst of a 
 circle of barbarians exulting over their cap- 
 tive, as if they had taken the chief enemy of 
 the state, was inarched back to the walls. 
 
 There I was not the only person disturbed 
 by the adventure. The first glimpse of me 
 caught by the captain of the night, exhibited 
 everything that could be ludicrous in the 
 shape of consternation. To the inquiries, 
 how I was suffered to pass, he answered by 
 an appeal to his “ honor which he again 
 valued, in my presence too, “ as the most in- 
 valuable possession of the citizen soldier.” 
 He said the words without a blush, and I 
 even listened to them without a smile. He 
 probably trembled a little for his bribe. But 
 he soon discovered by my look that I con- 
 sidered the money as too far gone to be worth 
 pursuing. 
 
 Yet Onias, who seemed to know him as 
 well as 1, fixed on him a scrutinizing aspect, 
 of all others the most hateful to a delicate 
 conscience; and his only resource was to 
 heap opprobium upon me. How I had con- 
 trived to escape the guard, said Jonathan, 
 
 “ was totally inconceivable, unless it was by 
 — ” I gave him an assuring glance — “ by 
 imposing on the credulity of some of the ig- 
 norant peasants; possibly even by direct cor- 
 ruption. But, to put that matter out of fu- 
 ture possibility, he would proceed to examine 
 the prisoner’s person.” 
 
 He proceeded accordingly, and from my 
 sash took my purse, as a public precaution. 
 He was a vigilant guardian of the state; for 
 the purse was never restored. 
 
 Onias looked at him, during his harangue, 
 with a countenance between contempt and 
 ridicule. 
 
 “ I must go forward now,” said he ; “ but, 
 captain, see to your prisoner. He must an- 
 swer before the council to-morrow ; and as 
 you have so worthily disabled him from op- 
 erations with the guard, your own head is 
 answerable for his safe-keeping.” My ene- 
 ;my, to make all sure, himself saw me march- 
 jed within the tower over the gate; comfort- 
 ed his soul by a parting promise that my time 
 was come, and rode off with his Idumeans — 
 to the boundless satisfaction of the scrupulous 
 and much alarmed Jonathan. 
 
 | The tower was massive ; arid there was 
 no probability that anything less than a Ro- 
 man battering-ram would ever lay open its 
 solid sides. The captain had recovered his 
 virtue at the instant of my losing my purse ; 
 and I now could no more dream of sapping 
 his integrity, than of sapping the huge blocks 
 of the tower. Whether I was to be jirisoner 
 for the night or for the siege, or to glut the 
 axe by morning, were questions which lay in 
 the bosom of as implacable a villain, as long- 
 delayed revenge ever made malignant : but 
 what was to become of my child, of my fam- 
 ily, of my share in the great cause, for which 
 alone life was of value ! 
 
 The chamber to which I was consigned was 
 at the top of the tower, and overlooked a vast 
 I extent of country. Before me were the Ro- 
 man camps seen clearly in the moonlight, and 
 wrapt in silence, except when the solitary 
 trumpet sounded the watch, or the heavy tread 
 of a troop going its rounds, was heard. The 
 city sounds were but the murmurs of the sink- 
 ing tide of the multitude. The Spring was 
 in her glory. The air came fresh and sweet 
 from the fields. All was tranquillity ; yet what 
 a mass of destructive power was lying mo- 
 tionless under that tranquillity! Fire, sword, 
 and man, were before me; elements of evil that 
 a touch could rouse into tempest, not to be al- 
 layed but by torrents of blood, and the ruin or 
 empires. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI1I. 
 
 While my mind was wandering away in 
 i thoughts of the madness of ambition in so brief 
 
162 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 a being as man, I heard a loud clamor of 
 voices in the chambers below. The rustic 
 guard had been enjoying themselves; but 
 their wine was already out, and they set their 
 faces boldly against the discipline which pre- 
 tended to limit the wine of patriots so true 
 and thirsty. The clamor arose from the dis- 
 covery that the cellars of the tower had been 
 examined by a previous guard, who provided 
 for the temperance of their successors by tak- 
 ing the whole temptation to themselves. 
 High words followed between the abettors of 
 discipline and the partisans of the bottle; and 
 if my door were but unbarred, I might have 
 expeditiously relieved the captain of his 
 charge. But its bolts were enormous, and I 
 tried lock and panel in vain. 
 
 As 1 was giving up the effort, a light foot- 
 step ascended the stairs ; a key turned in the 
 ponderous wards, and the minstrel of the tent 
 stood before me. 
 
 “ If you wish to escape from certain death,” 
 he whispered, “do as I bid you.” ■ He looked 
 from the casement, sang a few notes, and, on 
 being answered from without, pulled up a 
 rope, which we hauled in together. The 
 task was of some difficulty, but at length a 
 weighty hamper appeared, loaded with wine. 
 He took a portion of the contraband freight 
 in his arms, and without a word disappeared. 
 I heard his welcome proclaimed below with 
 loud applause. Half the guard were instant- 
 ly on the stairs to assist him down with the 
 remainder ; but against this he firmly pro- 
 tested, and threatened, in case of a single at- 
 tempt to interfere with his operations, that 
 he would awake the captain, and publicly 
 give back the keys of this incomparable pri- 
 vate cellar to the legitimate hand. The 
 threat was effective ; the unlading of the 
 hamper was left to his own dexterity; and 
 at length but one solitary flask lay before 
 us. 
 
 “You deserve some payment for your trou- 
 ble,” said he, with the careless and jovial air 
 of his brethren. “ Here’s to your night’s en- 
 terprise, whatever it be,” pouring out a few 
 drops and tasting them, while he forced a 
 large draught upon me. “ And now good 
 night, my prince, unless you love the tower 
 too much to take leave of this gallant guard 
 by a window.” 
 
 “ But, boy, if you are detected in assisting 
 my escape !” 
 
 “ Oh ! I have been detected in all sorts of 
 frolics in my time, and yet here I am. The 
 truth is, prince, I have travelled in your coun- 
 try, and have an old honor for your name. 
 No later than to-day you gave me the hand- 
 somest present I have got since I came with- 
 in the walls. I know the noble captain below 
 stairs to be a thorough rogue ; and the mighty 
 Onias to want nothing for wickedness but the 
 
 opportunity : in short, the thought occurred 
 to me on seeing you, to ramble into the 
 guard-house, help the honest revelers below 
 to a little more wine than is good for their 
 understandings; this contraband affair being 
 a commodity in w'hich, between ourselves, I 
 deal ; and farther, break the laws by assist- 
 ing you to leave captain, sentinels, persecu- 
 tor, and all, behind. Now, if you value your 
 life, be the substitute for the empty flasks ; 
 get into this hamper, and make your way 
 through the air like a bird. In two minutes 
 I shall be safe enough. You need have no 
 fears for me.” 
 
 I coiled the rope round a beam, that my 
 weight might not bring it down too sudden- 
 ly ; forced myself through the narrow win- 
 dow, and launched out into the air, at the 
 height of a hundred feet. But if I felt any 
 distrust, it was brief. I was rapidly lowered 
 down, passing the successive casements, in 
 which 1 saw the successive watches of the 
 guard drinking, sleeping, singing, and dis- 
 cussing public affairs with village rationality. 
 Luckily no eye turned upon the fugitive, and 
 the ground was touched at last. 
 
 In another moment the minstrel came, 
 rather flying than sliding down the rope. I 
 said something in acknowledgment of this 
 service. But he laid his finger on his lip, 
 and pointing to the rampart, where a moving 
 lamp showed that we were still within obser- 
 vation, led me through paths beset with 
 thickets which no eye could penetrate, but, 
 as he said, “that of a supplier of garrisons 
 with contraband.” But their intricacy offer- 
 ed no obstruction to this stripling ; and after 
 amusing himself with my perplexities, he led 
 me to the verge of the plain. 
 
 “I have detained you,” said he, “ in these 
 brambles, for the double purpose of avoiding 
 the look-out from the battlements, and of 
 giving the moon time to hide her blushing 
 beauties.” She lay reddening with the mists 
 on the horizon. “ She has been often called 
 our mother ; and, as children of the moon, 
 the minstrels are allowed the privilege of 
 keeping later hours, and being madder than 
 the mob of mankind. But, like other chil- 
 dren, we are sometimes engaged in matters 
 which would dispense with the maternal eye; 
 and to-night, between assisting the Galileans 
 to their wine, and cheating them of their 
 prisoner, I wished that she was many a fath- 
 om below 1 the ocean. Mother,” said he, 
 throwing himself into an attitude, and pour- 
 ing a gush of harmony from his little harp, 
 “ take a child’s blessing, and begone.” The 
 words w’ere spoken to a kind of tune, ramb- 
 ling, but singularly sweet. “ Do you know,” 
 said he, with a sigh, as he turned and saw 
 me gazing in admiration of his skill, “ I am 
 weary to death of my profession.” 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 163 
 
 “ Then why not leave it 1 you are tit for 
 better things ; your accomplishments are of 
 the very nature that make their way into so- 
 ciety.” 
 
 “ Why not leave it 1 Oh ; for a hundred 
 reasons. In the first place, I should be more 
 wearied of every other. I should be the bird 
 in the cage, fed, sheltered, and possibly a 
 favorite. But what bird would not rather 
 take the chance of the open air, even to be 
 beat by the storms of summer, and frozen by 
 the winter’s chill ! No ; let me clap my 
 pinions, and sing my song under the free 
 canopy of the skies ; or be voiceless, and 
 wingless, and — dead.” 
 
 “ Boy, this is the natural language of your 
 years. But the time must come when the 
 spirit sinks, and man requires other charms 
 in life than the power of roaming. The com- 
 mon change of nature which compels us in 
 the days of sunshine to provide for winter, is 
 only a forewarning of the time when life 
 shall require rest, an assured shelter, and the 
 presence of human beings who feel an inter- 
 est in us. The wanderer comes, at last, a 
 broken-hearted dependant, to solicit the alms 
 of men who, without a spark of his genius, 
 had the common sense to follow the track 
 beaten for them by mankind.” 
 
 He made no answer, but hung his head 
 over the harp, and let his fingers stray among 
 the strings. The moon’s edge was now touch- 
 ing the mountains. 
 
 “ We must be gone,” said I; “but, as I 
 insist on your not exposing yourself to farther 
 hazard, remember to look for me within a 
 few days in Jerusalem. I owe you something 
 for your night’s service; which, if you are 
 willing, shall be repaid by taking you into 
 my household, should the siege be raised ; if 
 not, you are but as you were.” 
 
 He was all nervous perturbation at the of- 
 fer ; wept, laughed, danced, rang a prelude 
 upon the strings, kissed my hand, and finally 
 bounded away before me. I called to him, 
 repeating my wish that he should go no far- 
 ther. 
 
 “ Impossible,” said he; “you would be lost 
 in a moment. If I had not crossed the ground 
 hundreds of times, I should never be able to 
 find my road. Half a mile forward, it is all 
 rampart, trench und ravine. You would be 
 stopped by a host of sentinels. Why, 
 nothing on earth could get to the foot of yon- 
 der hills, near as they seem, but an army, — 
 or a minstrel.” 
 
 Remonstrance was hopeless, for he ran on 
 before me, and ran with a rapidity that task- 
 ed even my foot to follow. We soon came 
 into the fortified ground, and I then felt his 
 value. He led me over fosse and rampart, 
 up the scarp and through the palisade, with 
 the sagacity of instinct. But this was not 
 
 all. I repeatedly saw the sentinels within a 
 few feet of us, and expected to be challenged 
 every moment; but not a syllable was heard : 
 i I passed, with patrols of the legionary horse 
 on either side of me ; still, not a word. I 
 walked through the rows of tents in which the 
 troops were up, and preparing for the duties 
 of the morning. Not an eye fell upon me; 
 and I almost began to believe myself, like a 
 hero of the old tables, covered with a cloud. 
 
 The boy still continued racing along; until, 
 on reaching the summit of a mound at some 
 distance in front of me, he uttered a cry, and 
 fell. I had heard no challenge ; and, con- 
 ceiving that his fall was accidental, hurried 
 towards him. 
 
 A flight of arrows whizzed over my head ; 
 and the black visages of a mob of Ethiopian 
 riders came bouncing up a hollow beside me. 
 It was not my purpose to fight, even if I had 
 any hope of success against marksmen who 
 could hit an elephant’s eye. I called out for 
 quarter in every language of which I was 
 capable. But the Ethiopians only shook their 
 woolly heads, laid hands on me, and began 
 an investigation of my riches, creditable to 
 polished society. Barbarians, with a tongue 
 and physiognomy worthy only of their kin- 
 dred baboons, probed every plait of my gar- 
 ments, with an accuracy that could have been 
 surpassed only in the most civilized custom- 
 houses of the empire. A succession of shrieks, 
 which I mistook for rage, but which were 
 the mirth of those sons of darkness, were the 
 prelude to measures which argued more for- 
 midable consequences than the rifling of a 
 man who had already undergone rifling by a 
 professor. A rope was thrown over my arms, 
 and 1 was led towards the outposts. Yet even 
 the neighborhood of their Roman friends did 
 not seem the most congenial to my captors. 
 More than one consultation was held, in 
 which their white teeth were bared to the 
 jaw with rage, and their scimetars were 
 whirled like so many flashes of lightning 
 about each others turbans, before they could 
 decide, whether my throat was to be cut on 
 the spot to get rid of an encumbrance, or 
 they were to try how far the emptiness of my 
 purse might not be made up to them by the 
 reward for the capture of a spy in the trap- 
 pings of a chieftain. 
 
 I gave up remonstrance, where, if I had 
 all the tongues of Babal, none of them seem- 
 ed likely to answer my purpose ; and, reserv- 
 ing the nice distinction between an ambassa- 
 dor and a spy for more cultivated ears, quiet- 
 ly walked onward, in the midst of this ragged 
 troop of thieves ; the more insensible to hon- 
 esty or argument, as they were thieves priv- 
 ileged according to law. 
 
 But our approach to the camp bred another 
 difficulty. The troop felt an obvious disin- 
 
164 
 
 Salaihiel. 
 
 clination to come too close to the legionaries. 
 Whatever was the produce of their rovings, 
 might be inquired into, and retained for the 
 honor of justice and the benefit of its servants. 
 Untutored as the negroes were, they had ac- 
 quired a knowledge of the latitude of the of- 
 ficial conscience ; and bowed to the mastery 
 of the white in plunder, as in the other ac- 
 complishments of an advanced age. 
 
 All could not venture to the camp ; yet 
 who was to be intrusted with the general in- 
 terest, so far as receiving the reward 1 The 
 discussion was carried on chiefly by gesture, 
 which sometimes proceeded to blows ; and 
 at last was wound up to such vigor, that a 
 brawny ruffian, to preserve the peace, seized 
 the rope, and dragging me out of the circle, 
 began sharpening his scimetar on his knife, 
 to cut my throat with the more certainty, 
 and at once extinguish the controversy. But, 
 at the instant, a horrid outcry arose ; and a 
 figure, hideous beyond conception, not a foot 
 high, blacker than the blackest, and darting 
 flames from its mouth, bounded in among us, 
 mounted upon a wild beast of a horse, that 
 kicked and tore at every thing. The Ethio- 
 pians shrieked with terror, and were scattered 
 on all sides at the first shock ; the ground 
 was so cut up by the military operations, that 
 they stumbled at every step ; some were un- 
 horsed ; some lay desperately kicked and bit- 
 ten ; some probably had their necks broken ; 
 and others carried home the tale to spread it 
 through the land of lions. I heard it long 
 after, exciting the utmost amaze in a venera- 
 ble circle sitting round one of the fountains 
 of the Nile. 
 
 I was saved from being thus summarily 
 made the victim of peace ; but was as far as 
 ever from freedom. While I was endeav- 
 oring to loose the rope, a patrol of the legion- 
 ary horse came galloping from the camp ; 
 and I was taken, with this badge of a bad char- 
 acter upon me. But the flying negroes were 
 the more amusing object. There was just 
 light enough to see them running and rolling 
 about the plain ; turbans flying off in the air ; 
 and the few riders who could boast of keep- 
 ing their seats, whirled away over brake and 
 brier, at the mercy of their maddened horses. 
 This display, which had been, at first, taken 
 for the prelude to an assault on the lines, 
 was now a source of pleasantry ; and the 
 horsemanship of the savages was honored 
 with many a roar. 
 
 My case came next under consideration. 
 “ I was found at the edge of the Roman in- 
 trenchments, where to be found was to die ; 
 I was besides taken with the mark of repro- 
 bation upon me.” But I pleaded my own 
 merits loudly, and appealed to the rope as 
 evidence that I was not there by my own will. 
 The legionaries were better soldiers than lo- 
 
 gicians, and my defense perplexed them: 
 until some profounder one thought of inquir- 
 ing what brought me there at all. The 
 troop flocked round to hear how I should re- 
 but this overwhelming question. I mention- 
 ed my purpose in a few words. 
 
 The scale again turned in my favor, and 
 I began to think victory secure; when a 
 young standard-bearer, who was probably 
 destined to rise in the state, declared, with a 
 splenetic tongue and brow of office, that, “ in 
 this day of cheating, too much precaution 
 could not be adopted against cheats of all 
 colors ; that the more plausible my story was, 
 the more likely it was to be a fabrication ; 
 that I might have volunteered my captivity 
 only to give weight to my fabrication; and 
 that, finally, as my escape might do some 
 kind of mischief, while my hanging could 
 do none whatever, it was advisable — to hang 
 me without delay.” 
 
 The orator spoke the words of popularity ; 
 and my fate was sealed. But anew difficulty 
 arose. By whom was the sentence to be put 
 in execution; for the duty would have sullied 
 the legionary honor for life. The demur was 
 perplexing; but the dignity of the cavalry 
 must at all events be preserved. A trampled 
 African, who lay groaning in a ditch beside 
 me, caught the sound of the debate, dragged 
 himself out, and offered, mangled as he was, 
 to perform the office for any sum that their 
 generosity might think proper. Never was 
 rnan nearer paying the grand debt, than I 
 was at that moment. The African recovered 
 his vigor as by magic ; and the young states- 
 man took upon himself the superintendance 
 of this service to his country. I was not idle, 
 and raised my voice against this violence to 
 a “ negotiator ;” but the troopers of the im- 
 perial horse had been roused from their sleep 
 on my account, and they were not to return, 
 liable to the ridicule of having been roused 
 by a false alarm. While I still endeavored to 
 put off the evil hour, the trampling of a large 
 body of cavalry was heard. “ The General,” 
 exclaimed the young officer, who evidently 
 had an instinctive sensibility to the approach 
 of rank. 
 
 “ Let Titus come,” said I, “ or any man 
 of honor, and lie will understand me.” 1 
 tore the badge of disgrace from my arms, and 
 stepped forward to meet the great son of 
 Vespasian. My look of confidence alarmed 
 the troop, and the standard-bearer made way 
 for a man who dared to speak to the heir of 
 the throne. But the general was not Titus ; 
 a broad, brutal countenance, red with excess, 
 glared haughtily round. I caught- his eye, 
 and he suddenly turned pale: a whisper from 
 one of the officers put him in possession of 
 the circumstances, and he rode up to me. 
 “ So, rebel ! you are come to this at last 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 165 
 
 You have been taken in the fact, and must 
 undergo your natural fate.” 
 
 “ I demand to be led to your general. I 
 scorn to defend myself before inferiors.” 
 
 “ Inferiors !” he bit his livid lip. “ Trai- 
 tor, you are not now on the hill of Scopas, at 
 the head of an army.” 
 
 I recognized Cestius. “ Nor you,” said I, 
 “ on the plain, at the head of an army ; and 
 so much the more fortunate for both you and 
 them. But, I scorn to talk to men whose 
 backs I have seen. Lead me to your master, 
 fugitive !” 
 
 The troops, unaccustomed to this plain 
 speaking in the presence of the tyrant of the 
 legions, looked on with wonder. Cestius 
 himself was staggered ; but the nature of the 
 man soon returned ; and in a voice of fury, 
 he ordered a body of Arab archers, who were 
 seen moving at a distance, to be brought up 
 for the extinction of a “ traitor unworthy of a 
 Roman sword.” 
 
 The Arabs, exhilarated at the prospect of 
 reward, came up shouting, tossing their 
 lances, and shooting their arrows. As a last 
 resource, I solemnly protested against this 
 murder, which I pronounced to be the work 
 of a revenge disgraceful to the name of sol- 
 dier; and, taunting Cestius with his defeat, 
 demanded that, if he doubted my honor, he 
 should try, on the spot, which of our swords 
 was the better. 
 
 He answered my taunt only by a glare of 
 rage, and a gesture to the archers, who in- 
 stantly threw themselves into a half circle 
 round me, with the expertness of proficients 
 in the trade of justice, and bended their bows. 
 I was determined to resist to the last ; and 
 flung out upbraidings and scorn upon the 
 murderer, which drove him to hide his head 
 behind the troop ; when another disturbance 
 arose. Scimetars waved, turbans shook, 
 horses plunged ; the deep order was broken ; 
 and at length a horseman, magnificently ap- 
 pareled, and mounted, burst into the ring, 
 and rushed fiercely round. 
 
 “ What ! you miscreants,” he shouted, 
 “ what in the name of Beelzebub is all this for 1 
 who dares to take the command out of my 
 hands'! down with your bows. Commit mur- 
 der ; and I not present ! The first man that 
 pulls a string shall have an empty saddle. 
 Draw off, cut-throats ; or, if you want to do 
 the world a service shoot one another.” 
 
 I gazed in vain on this figure of cloth, gold 
 and purple. The turban tllat blazing with 
 gems hung down on his forehead, and the beard 
 that black as the raven’s wing curled full 
 round his lip, completely baffled me. He 
 looked at me in turn, thrust out a sinewy 
 hand, and clasping mine, exclaimed with a 
 loud laugh — 
 
 “ What, prince, does the plumage make 
 
 you forget the bird ! What can have brought 
 you into the hands of my culprits ! I thought 
 that you were drowned, burned, or a candidate 
 for the imperial diadem, by this time.” 
 
 The voice and manner recurred to me. 
 “ My friend of the free trade !” said I. 
 
 “ By no means. But a loyal plunderer — 
 in the service of Vespasian, and in command 
 of a thousand Arab cavalry, that will ride, 
 run away, and rob, with any corps in the ser- 
 vice ; and the word is a bold one.” 
 
 Our brief conference was broken up by the 
 return of Cestius, who, outrageous at the de- 
 lay, and coming to inquire the cause, found 
 fresh fuel for his wrath in the sight of the Arab 
 captain turned into my protector. With an 
 execration he demanded why his orders had 
 been disobeyed. The captain answered with 
 the most provoking coolness, that “ no Roman 
 officer, let his rank be what it might, was en- 
 titled to degrade the allies into executioners.” 
 The Roman grew furious with the slight in 
 the face of the troops, who highly enjoyed it. 
 The Arab grew more sarcastic ; till Cestius 
 was rash enough to lift his hand, and the 
 Arab anticipated the blow by dashing his 
 charger at him, and leaving the haughty 
 general and his horse struggling together on 
 the ground. 
 
 An insult of this kind to the second in 
 command was, of course, not to be forgiven. 
 The Arabs bent their bows to make battle for 
 their captain, but he forbade resistance ; and 
 when the legionary tribune demanded his 
 sword, he surrendered it with a smile, saying, 
 that “ he had done service enough for one 
 day, in saving an honest man, and punishing 
 a ruffian,” and that he should justify himself 
 to Titus alone. 
 
 My fate was still undetermined. But the 
 legionaries soon had more pressing matters 
 to think of The clangour of horns and loud 
 shouts came in the direction of the city. The 
 plain still lay in shade ; but I could see 
 through the dusk immense crowds moving 
 forward like an inundation. The legions 
 were instantly under arms, and I stood a 
 chance of being walked over by two armies. 
 
 But I was not to encounter so distinguished 
 a catastrophe. Some symptoms of my inclina- 
 tion to escape attracted the eye of the guard, 
 and I was marched to tfoe common repository 
 of malefactors in the rear of the lines. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 My new quarters were within the walls 
 of one of those huge country mansions, which 
 the pride of our ancestors had built to be the 
 plague of their posterity ; for those the ene- 
 my chiefly employed for our prisons. Their 
 
166 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 prodigious strength defied desultory attack;' 
 time made little other impression on them 
 than to picture their walls with innumerable 
 stains ; and the man must be a practised pri- 
 son-breaker who could force his way out of 
 their depths of marble. 
 
 But if my eyes were useless, my ears had 
 their full indulgence. Every sound of the 
 conflict was heard. The attack was frequent- 
 ly furious, and must have been close to the j 
 walls of niy dungeon. The various rallying! 
 cries of the tribes rang through its cells; then 
 a Roman shout and the heavy charge of the 
 cavalry would roll along, till, after an encoun- 
 tering roar and a long clashing of weapons, 
 the tumult passed wildly away, to be rapidly 
 renewed by the obstinate bravery of my un- 
 fortunate countrymen. 
 
 I felt as a man and a leader must feel, dur- 
 ing scenes in which he ought to take a part, 
 yet to which he was virtually as much dead 
 as the sleeper in the tomb. My life had been 
 activity ; my heart was in the cause ; I had 
 knowledge, zeal, and strength, that might in 
 the chances of battle turn defeat into triumph. 
 My name was known; I heard it often among 
 the charging cries of the day. But here I 
 lay within impassable barriers. A thousand 
 times during those miserable hours I mea- 
 sured their height with my eye, and longed 
 for the hopeless vigor that could scale them ; 
 then threw myself on the ground, and, closing 
 my ears with my hands, labored to exclude 
 thought from my soul. 
 
 But my fellow-prisoners were practical 
 philosophers to a man ; untaught in theschools, 
 ’tis true, yet fully trained in that great aca- 
 demy, worth all that Plato ever dreamed in — 
 experience. 
 
 In my wanderings among mankind, I 
 never before had such an opportunity of study- 
 ing variety of character. War is the hot-bed 
 that urges all our qualities, good and evil, 
 into their broadest luxuriance. The generous 
 become munificent, the mean turn into the 
 villainous, and the rude harden into brutality. 
 The camp is the great inn, at which all the 
 dubious qualities set up their rest ; and a 
 single campaign perfects the culprit to the 
 height of his profession. There were round 
 me in these immense halls about five hun- 
 dred profligates, any one of who.-e histories 
 would have been invaluable to a scorner of 
 human nature. 
 
 Among the loose armies of the East, those 
 fellows exercised their vocation as regular 
 appendages; often lived in luxury, and some- 
 times shot up into leaders themselyes. But 
 the approach to the Roman armies required 
 a master hand. The temptation was strong, 
 for the legionary was the grand ravager: 
 war was always busy where he trod; and, 
 like the lion, he left the larger share of the 
 
 prey to the jackall. But justice, inexorable 
 and rapid, was his rule, in all cases but his 
 own ; and the jackall, suspected of trespassing 
 beyond the legitimate distance from the su- 
 perior savage, ran the most imminent hazard 
 of being disqualified for all encroachments to 
 come. Three-fourths of my associates had 
 played this perilous game, and its penalties 
 were now awaiting only the first leisure of 
 the troops. Peace, at all times vexatious to 
 their trade, had thus a double disgust for 
 them ; and the most patriotic son of Israel 
 could not have taken a more zealous interest 
 in the defeat of the legions. But philosophy 
 still predominated, and when the retiring 
 sounds showed the repulse of the tribes, not 
 a countenance was the darker; if hope was 
 at an end, hilarity took its place, and the 
 prison rang with the most reckless exhibitions 
 of practical glee, riotous songs, and fierce 
 mockeries at the power of rods and axes. 
 The professional talents of those sons of 
 chance were remorselessly displayed. The 
 mimic collected his audience, burlesqued the 
 pompous tribunes and officials of the army, 
 and gathered his pence and plaudits, as if he 
 was under the open sky, and could call his 
 head his own. The nostrum-vender had his 
 secrets for the cure of every ill, and ha- 
 rangued on the impotence of brand, scourge, 
 and blade, where the patient had but the 
 wisdom to employ his irresistible unguent. 
 The soothsayer sold fate at the lowest price, 
 and fixed the casualties of the next four-and- 
 twenty hours; an easy task with thepricipal 
 part of his audience. The minstrel chanted 
 the honor and glory of a life unencumbered 
 by care or conscience. And the pilferer, 
 with but an hour to live, exercised his trade 
 with an industry proportioned to the shortness 
 of his time. 
 
 In the whole gang I met with but one man 
 thoroughly out of spirits. He had obviously 
 been no favorite of fortune, for the human 
 form could scarcely be less indebted to cloth- 
 ing. His swarthy visage was doubly black- 
 ened by hunger and exhaustion, and even 
 his voice had a prison sound. Driven away 
 from the joyous groups by the natural repul- 
 sion which the careless feel for visages that 
 remind them of the world’s troubles, he took 
 refuge in the corner where I lay, tormented 
 by every echo of the battle. 
 
 His groans attracted my notice, and, not 
 unwilling to forget the melancholy and agi- 
 tating scenes, in which every moment was 
 draining the last hope of my country, I turn- 
 ed to the wretch beside me, and asked the 
 cause of his sorrows. 
 
 “ Ingratitude,” was the reply. “ This is a 
 villainous world ; a man may spend his life 
 in serving others ; and what will he gain in 
 the end 1 Nothing. There is, for instance. 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 167 
 
 the prince of Damascus, wallowing in wealth; 
 yet the greatest rogue under this roof has 
 not a more pitiful stock of honor; witness 
 his conduct to me. He was out of favor 
 with his uncle, the late prince ; was not 
 worth more than the raiment on his limbs ; 
 and as likely to finish his days on the gibbet 
 as any of the knot of robbers that helped him 
 to scour the roads about Sidon. In his dis- 
 tress he applied to me. I had driven a hand- 
 some smuggling trade between Egypt and 
 the north, and now and then gave him a hand- 
 some price for his booty. The idea of bring- 
 ing his uncle to a compromise was out of the 
 question. The attempt would have probably j 
 first brought ourselves to the axe. I gave in 
 my proposal, and named my price ; it was 
 allowed to be fair. I made my way into the 
 palace, became a favorite, by giving up some 
 of my old friends of the troop; was exalted 
 to the honors of cup-bearer : and, on my first 
 night of office, gave the old man a cup which 
 cured him of drunkenness for ever. And 
 what do you think was my reward 1” 
 
 “ I think I could name what it ought to 
 have been.” 
 
 “You conclude, half his heir’s jewels and 
 treasure, at the least : — No ; not a stone, not 
 a shekel. I was thrown into chains, and 
 finally kicked out of the city, with a promise, 
 the only one that he will ever keep, that if I 
 venture into his sacred presence again, I 
 shall leave it without my head. There’s a 
 villain for you ! There’s gratitude ! He 
 will never do good as long as he lives !” 
 
 “ That may still depend upon your assis- 
 tance. Return to him, and give him the op- 
 portunity.” 
 
 “ My next example was among the Ro- 
 mans. It must be owned that they pay well 
 for secret services. But then, ingratitude 
 infects them from top to toe. I had been 
 three years in their employment ; and, if I 
 made free with a few of their secrets in favor 
 of others, it was only on the commercial 
 principle of having as many customers as one 
 can supply ; still I helped them to the know- 
 ledge of all that was going on. 
 
 “ At last a showy adventurer changed the 
 scene of my labors. Some insult from the 
 prefect stirred up his blood, and in revenge 
 he sailed away with his galley, and set up 
 on his own account. The prefect had reason 
 to regret the quarrel ; for not a sail, from a 
 shallop to a trireme, could touch the water 
 from the Cyclades to Cyprus, without being 
 overhauled by the captain. I was set upon 
 his track, and got into his good graces by 
 lending him a little of my information, of 
 which he made such desperate use, that the 
 prefect swore my destruction as a traitor. 
 To make up the quarrel, I tried a wider game, 
 and was bringing the Roman fleet upon the 
 
 pirates in their very nest, when a whole 
 course of ill luck came across me. A pair 
 whom, to the last hour of my life, nothing 
 will persuade me to think any thing but de- 
 mons sent expressly to do me mischief, broke 
 up one of the finest inventions that ever came 
 into the head of man. 
 
 “ The consequence was, that the pirates, 
 instead of being attacked, burned the prefect’s 
 bed under him, and would have burned him- 
 self, if he had not thought a watery end better 
 than a fiery one, leaped overboard, and gone 
 straight to the bottom. The whole blame 
 fell upon me; and my only payment from 
 the Romans was the cropping of my ears, 
 and a declaration, sworn to in the names of 
 Romulus and Remus, that if I ever ventured 
 again within a Roman camp or city, I should 
 not get off so well. There’s ingratitude for 
 you ; never was man so unfortunate.” 
 
 “Quite the contrary; it appears to me, 
 that seldom was man so lucky. If not one 
 in a hundred would have your tale to tell, 
 not one in a thousand would have lived to 
 tell it.” I had already recognized the Egyp- 
 tian of the cavern. 
 
 “ But gratitude, humanity, justice.” 
 
 “ Say no more about them. Or, if any 
 libeller of your masters start up, tell your 
 story and confute him. Whatever the Romans 
 may be in the matters of justice, your case is 
 an answer to all charges on their mercy.” 
 
 He looked at me with a ghastly grimace, 
 and, as he threw back the long and squalid 
 locks that covered his countenance, showed 
 what beggary had done to the sleek features 
 of the once superbly clothed and jewelled 
 sea-rover. “ But what,” said I, “ threw a 
 man of your virtue among such a gang of 
 caitiffs as are here I” 
 
 “ Another instance of ingratitude. I had 
 been for twenty years connected with one of 
 the leading men of Jerusalem, and I will say, 
 that in my experience of mankind, I have 
 known no individual less perplexed with any 
 weakness of conscience. He had a difficult 
 game to play between the Romans, whom 
 he served privately, the Jews, whom he 
 served publicly, and himself, whom he served 
 with at least as much zeal as either of his 
 employers. The times were made for the 
 success of a man who has his eyes open, and 
 suffers neither the fear of any thing on earth, 
 nor the hope of any thing after it, to shut 
 them. He succeeded accordingly : got rid 
 of some rivals by the dagger ; sent some to 
 harangue in the dungeon ; bribed, where 
 money would answer his purpose ; menaced, 
 where threats would be current coin ; and, 
 bv the practice of those natural means of 
 nsing in public affairs, became the hope of 
 a faction. But on his glory there was one 
 cloud — the prince of Naphtali !” 
 
168 
 
 Salat hi el. 
 
 I listened, all ear. I had deeply known 
 the early hostility of Onias; but his devices) 
 were too tortuous for me to trace, and, till 
 the past night, I had lost sight of him for 
 years. I asked what cause of bitterness ex- 
 isted between these personages. 
 
 “ A multitude; as generally happens where 
 the imagination becomes a party, and the ac- 
 cuser is allowed to be the judge. The prince, 
 in youth, and before he attained his rank, had 
 the insolence to fall in love with a woman 
 marked by Onias for his own. He had the 
 additional insolence to attract her, and the 
 completion of his crimes was marriage. Onias 
 swore his ruin thenceforth. Public convul- 
 sions put off the promise ; and while he was 
 driven to his last struggle to keep himself 
 among the living, he had the indulgence of 
 seeing the young husband shoot up without 
 any trouble into rank, wealth, and renown.” 
 
 “ But has not time blunted his hostility 1” 
 
 “ Time, as the proverb goes, blunts nothing 
 but a man’s wit, his teeth, and his good in- 
 tentions,” said the knave, with a sneer on his 
 grim visage. “ The next half is, that it 
 sharpens wine, women, and wickedness. 
 What Onias may have been doing of late, I 
 can only guess; but, unless he is changed by 
 miracle, he has been dealing in every villain- 
 ous contrivance from subornation to sorcery. 
 
 I had my own affairs to mind. But, unless 
 Satan owes him a grudge, he is now not far 
 from his revenge.” 
 
 I thought of our meeting at the city gates ; 
 and, alarmed at the chance of his discovering 
 my family, asked, whether Onias had obtained 
 any late knowledge of his rival. 
 
 “ Of that I know but little,” said he ; “ yet, 
 quick as his revenge may be, unless my 
 honest employer manages with more temper 
 than usual, he will rue the hour when he set 
 foot on the track of the prince of Naphtali. 
 If ever man possessed the mastery of the 
 spirits that our wizards pretend to raise, the 
 
 E rince is that man. I myself have haunted 
 im for many years; yet he always baffled 
 me. I have laid traps for him that nothing 
 in human cunning could have escaped ; yet 
 he broke through them, as if they were 
 spider’s webs. I lured him by his domestics 
 into the hands of the Romans; and saw him 
 sent to the thirstiest lover of blood that ever 
 sat on a throne. Yet he came back ; aye, 
 came from the very clutch of Nero. I mad- 
 dened his friends against him ; and he con- 
 trived to escape even from the malice and 
 madness of his friends; a matter which, you 
 will own, is among the most memorable. I 
 had him plunged into a dungeon ; where I 
 kept him alive, for certain reasons, while 
 Onias was to be kept to his bargain by the 
 prisoner’s re-appearance. Yet he escaped ; 
 and my last intelligence of him is, that this I 
 
 master of fate and fortune is at this moment 
 living in pomp in Jerusalem, the spot where 
 I have been for the last month in close pur- 
 suit of him. Time, or some marvellous 
 power, must have disguised him. And yet, 
 if I were to meet the man this night — ” 
 
 “ Look on me, slave !” I rose and grasped 
 him by the throat, and unsheathed my dagger. 
 “You have found him, and to your cost. 
 Atrocious villain : it is to you, then, that I 
 owe so much misery. Make your peace with 
 heaven, if you can ; for it would be a crime 
 to suffer you to leave this spot alive.” 
 
 He was dumb with terror. I held him 
 with an iron grasp. The thought that if he 
 escaped me, it must be only to let loose a 
 murderer against my house, made me feel 
 his death an act of justice. 
 
 “ Let me go,” he at last muttered ; “ let 
 me live ; I am not fit to die. In the name 
 of that Lord whom you worship, spare me.” 
 He fell at my feet, in desperate and howling 
 supplication. “ You have not heard all ; I 
 have abjured your enemy. Spare me, and I 
 will swear to pass my days in the desert, a 
 wanderer ; never to come again before the 
 face of man; to lie upon the rock — to live 
 upon the weed — to drink of the pool — to 
 macerate this miserable body, until I sink 
 into the grave !” 
 
 I paused, struck by the abject eagerness 
 for life in a wretch self-condemned, and 
 whose life was ready to be thus vowed to 
 misery. While I held the dagger glittering 
 before him, his senses continued bound up 
 by fear. He gazed on it with an eye that 
 quivered with every quivering of the steel. 
 With one hand he grasped my uplifted arm 
 as he knelt, and with the other gathered his 
 rags round his throat to cover it from the 
 blow. His voice was lost in horrid gaspings; 
 his mouth was wide open and livid; the hair 
 of his head started up, and writhed with the 
 deadly writhing of his features. I sheathed 
 the weapon, and his countenance instantly 
 returned into its hollow grimace. A ghastly 
 smile grew upon it, as he drew from his 
 bosom a small packet. 
 
 “If you had put me to death,” said the 
 wretch, “ you would have lost your best 
 friend. This packet contains a correspondence 
 for which Onias would give all that he is 
 worth in the world ; and well he might ; for 
 the man who has it in his hands, has his life. 
 The world is made up of ingratitude. After 
 all my services, slandering here, plundering 
 there, hunting down his opponents in every 
 direction, till they either put themselves out 
 of the world, or he saved them the trouble ; 
 he had the baseness to throw me off. At the 
 head of his troops, when he felt himself se- 
 cure, he flung me into scorn ; he kicked me 
 from his horse’s side ; nay, ordered me to be 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 169 
 
 turned loose, as he said, ‘ to carry my treach- 
 ery to the Romans, if they should be fools 
 enough to think me worth the hire.’ I was 
 watching my opportunity to enter Jerusalem, 
 and stab him to the heart, when I was taken 
 by some of the plunderers that hover round 
 the camp ; was recognized as having done 
 some things in my time too ingenious for 
 vulgar conceptions ; and am probably to suf- 
 fer for the benefit of Roman morality, as a 
 robber and assassin, as soon as the legions 
 shall have murdered every man, and robbed 
 every house in Jerusalem.” 
 
 The packet contained a close correspond-' 
 ence of Onias with the Roman authorities. 
 A sensation of triumph glowed through me, 
 — I held the fate of my implacable enemy in 
 my hand. I could now with a word strike 
 to the earth the being whose artifices and 
 cruelties had way-laid me through life ; the 
 traitor to my country would perish by the 
 same blow that avenged my own wrongs. 
 “ The last hours of his culprit existence should 
 be hours of that solemn and self-acknow- 
 ledged retribution, which seals the triumphs 
 of justice !” 
 
 My nature was made for violent passions. 
 In love and hatred, in ambition, in scorn, in 
 revenge, my original spirit knew no bounds. 
 Time, sorrow, and the conviction of my own 
 outcast state, softened those powerful and 
 hazardous impulses, and I found the value of 
 adversity. Misfortune comes with healing 
 on its wings to the burning temper of the 
 heart, as the tempest comes to the arid soil. 
 It tears up the surface, but softens it for the 
 seeds of the nobler virtues ; in even its fee- 
 blest work, it cools the withering and de- 
 vouring heat for a time. I had yet to find 
 with what fatal rapidity the heart resumes its 
 old. overwhelming passions. 
 
 “ I spare your life said I, “ but on one 
 condition. That you henceforth make Onias 
 the perpetual object of your vigilance ; that 
 you keep him from injury to me and mine : 
 and that, when I shall seize him at last, you 
 shall be forthcoming to give public proof of 
 his treachery.” 
 
 “This sounds well,” said the Egyptian, as 
 he cast his eyes round the lofty hall. “ But 
 it would sound better, if we were not on this 
 side of the gate. All the talking in the 
 world will not lower those walls an inch, nor 
 make that gate turn on its hinges ; though 
 for that, and for every other too, there is one 
 master key. Happy was the time,” and the 
 fellow’s sullen eye lighted up with the joy 
 of knavery, “ when I could walk through 
 every cabinet closet, and cell, from the em- 
 peror’s palace in Rome down to the emperor’s 
 dungeon in Cesarea. 
 
 I produced a few coins, which I had con- 
 trived to conceal ; and flung them into his 
 
 clutch. The sum rekindled life in him ; 
 avarice has its enthusiasts, as well as super- 
 stition. He forgot danger, prison, and even 
 my dagger, in the sight of his idol. He 
 turned the coins to the light in all possible 
 ways ; he tried them with his teeth; he tast- 
 ed, he kissed, he pressed them to his bosom. 
 Never was lover at the feet of his mistress 
 more rapturous, than this last of human 
 beings, at the touch of money in the midst 
 of wretchedness and ruin, with the chance 
 of immediate death, and the certainty of des- 
 perate and solitary hazard, even if he should 
 escape. His transports taught me a lesson ; 
 and in that prison and from that slave of vice, 
 1 learned long to tremble at the power of gold 
 over the human mind. 
 
 It was past midnight, and the noise of the 
 criminals round me had already sunk away. 
 The floor was strewed with sleepers, and the 
 only waking figure was the sentinel as he 
 trod wearily along the passages ; when the 
 Egyptian, desiring me to feign sleep, that hi3 
 farther operations might not be embarrassed, 
 drew himself along the ground towards him. 
 The soldier, a huge German covered with 
 beard and iron, and going his rounds with 
 the insensibility of a machine, all but trod 
 upon the Egyptian, who lay crouching and 
 writhing before him. I saw the spear lifted 
 up, and heard a growl that made me think 
 my envoy’s career completely at an end in 
 this world. He still lay on the ground, writh- 
 ing under the German’s foot as a serpent 
 might under the paw of a lion. 
 
 I was about to spring up, and interpose ; 
 but his time was not yet come. The spear 
 hung in air, gradually turned its point up- 
 wards, and finally resumed its seat of peace 
 on the German’s shoulder. That art of per- 
 suasion which speaks *p the palm, whose 
 language is of all nations, had touched the 
 son of Woden ; I heard the sound of the coin 
 on the marble; a few words arranged the 
 details : the sentinel discovered that his vigi- 
 lance was required in another direction ; 
 broke off his customary round, and walked 
 away. The Egyptian turned to me with a 
 triumphant smile on his villainous visage; 
 the gate rolled on its hinge, and he slipped 
 through like a shadow. 
 
 On this instant, my mind misgave me. I 
 had put the fate of my family into the hands 
 of a slave, destitute of even the pretence of 
 principle. In my eagerness to save, might I 
 not have been delivering them up to the 
 enemy 1 He had sold Onias to me; might 
 he not make his peace by selling me to 
 Onias 1 The gate was still open. The sen- 
 tinel was gone to a distant part of the build- 
 ing. A few steps would put me beyond bon- 
 dage. 
 
 Yet, I come to recover Esther. If I left 
 
170 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 the camp, what hope was there of my ever 
 seeing- this child of my heart again 1 How 
 could I enjoy liberty, while [ thought that 
 she was in Roman hands 1 would not every 
 hour of my life be embittered by the chance 
 that she might be suffering the miseries of a 
 dungeon, or be borne away from every being 
 that she loved, into a strange land ? or dying, 
 and calling on me for help in vain ! 
 
 Those contending impulses passed through 
 my mind with the speed, and almost with 
 the agony, of an arrow. But the more I 
 thought of the Egyptian, the more I took his 
 treachery for certain. The present ruin of 
 all predominated over the possible suffer- 
 ings of one; and with a heart throbbing al- 
 most to suffocation, and a step scarcely able 
 to move, I dragged myself towards the por- 
 tal. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 But I was not to escape, and anticipate 
 the traitor. As I touched the threshold, a 
 loud sound of trampling feet and many voices 
 drove me back. But that curious texture of 
 the feeling which prefers suffering to sus- 
 pense, I was almost glad to have the ques- 
 tion decided for me by fortune, and flung 
 myself on the ground among a heap of the 
 undone, who lay enjoying a slumber that 
 might be envied by princes. 
 
 The gate was thrown open, and in burst a 
 living mass of horror, — a multitude of beings 
 in whom the human face and form were al- 
 most obliterated ; shapes gaunt with famine, 
 black with dust, withered with deadly fatigue, 
 and covered with gashes and gore. 
 
 The war had gone on from cruelty to 
 cruelty. To the Roman the Jew was a rebel, 
 and he received a rebel’s treatment ; to the 
 Jew the Roman was a tyrant, and dearly was 
 the price of his tyranny exacted. Quarter 
 was seldom given on either side. The natu- 
 ral generosity of the son of Vespasian at- 
 tempted for a while to soften the rigors of 
 this furious system. But the slaughter of the 
 mission exasperated him; he declared the 
 Jews a people incapable of faith, and pro- 
 claimed a war of extermination. 
 
 The battle of the day had furnished the 
 first opportunity of formal vengeance. The 
 peoplp, stimulated by the arrival and ambi- 
 tion of Onias, had made a desperate effort to 
 force the Roman lines. The attacks were 
 reiterated with more than valor, with rage 
 and madness ; the Jews fought with a disre- 
 gard of life that appalled and had nearly over- j 
 whelmed even the Roman steadiness. The 
 loss of the legions was formidable ; all their 
 chief officers were wounded, many were j 
 
 (killed. Titus himself, leading a column 
 from the Decuman gate, was wounded by a 
 blow from a sling ; and the state of the ram- 
 I parte, as I saw them at daybreak, torn down 
 (in immense breaches, and filling up the ditch 
 with their ruins, showed the imminent haz- 
 ard of the whole army. Another hour of light 
 would probably have been its ruin. But 
 Judea would not have been the more secure; 
 for the factions, relieved from the presence of 
 an enemy, would have torn each other to 
 pieces. 
 
 The loss of the Jews was so prodigious, as 
 to be accounted for only by their eagerness to 
 throw away life. Not less than a hundred 
 thousand corpses lay between the camp and 
 Jerusalem. No prisoners were taken ; and 
 the crowd that now approached were the 
 wounded, gathered off the field, to be cruci- 
 fied in atonement to the memory of the mis- 
 sion. 
 
 The coming of those victims put an end to 
 the possibility or the desire to sleep. The 
 immense and gloomy hall, one of those in use 
 for the stately banquets, customary among 
 the leaders of Jerusalem, was suddenly a 
 blaze of torches. The malefactors and cap- 
 tives were thrown together in heaps, guarded 
 by a strong detachment of spearmen, that 
 (lined the sides, like ranges of iron statues 
 overlooking the mixed and moving confusion 
 of wretched life between. Guilt, sorrow, 
 and shame, were there in their dreadful un- 
 disguise. The roof rang to oaths and 
 screams of pain, as the wounded tossed and 
 rolled upon each other; to bitter lamentation, 
 and more bitter still, to those self-accusing 
 outcries that the near approach of violent 
 death sometimes furiously awakens in the 
 most daring criminals. For, stern as the 
 justice was, it still was justice ; the Jewish 
 character had fearfully changed. Rapine 
 and bloodshed had become the habits of the 
 populace. And among the panting and 
 quivering wretches before me, begging a 
 moment of life, I recognized many a face, 
 that, seen in Jerusalem, was the sign of 
 plunder and massacre. 
 
 Repulsive as my recollections were, T spent 
 the greater part of the night in bandaging 
 their wounds, and relieving the thirst, which 
 scarcely less than their wounds, wrung them. 
 There were women too amona- those wrecks 
 of the sword ; and now that the frenzy of the 
 day was passed, they exhibited a picture of 
 the most heart-breaking dejection. 
 
 Lying on the ground, with mutilated limbs 
 and every lineament of their former selves 
 disfigured, they cried from that living grave 
 alternately for vengeance and for mercy. 
 Then, tearing their hair, and flinging it as 
 their last mark of hatred and scorn at the 
 legionaries, they devoted them to ruin in the 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 171 
 
 name of the God of Israel. Then passion 
 would give way to pain or a sense of ruin, 
 and in floods of tears they called on the names 
 of parent, husband, and child, whom they 
 were to see no more. 
 
 It was known that, at day -break the prison- 
 ers were to die ; and the din of hammers, 
 and the creaking of wagons, hearing the 
 crosses, broke the night with horrid intima- 
 tion At length, the stillness terribly told 
 that all was prepared. The night, measured 
 by moments, seemed endless, and many a 
 longing was uttered for the dawn that was to 
 put them out of their misery. Yet when the 
 first grey light fell through the casements, 
 and the trumpet sounded for the escort to get 
 under arms, nothing could exceed the fury 
 and despair of the crowd. Some rushed upon 
 the spears of the reluctant soldiery ; some 
 bounded in mad antics through the hall ; 
 others fell on their knees, and offered up hor- 
 rid and shuddering prayers ; many flung 
 themselves upon the floor, and in the par- 
 oxysm of wrath and fear, perished. 
 
 Shocked and sickened by this misery, I 
 withdrew from the gate, where the tumult 
 was thickest, as the soldiery was already 
 driving them out ; and returned to my old 
 lair to await the stroke that was to fall upon 
 myself. But I found it occupied. A circle 
 were standing round a speaker, to whom they 
 listened with singular attention. The voice 
 caught my ear ; from the crowd round him I 
 was unable to observe his features; but, once 
 drawn within the sound of his words, I shared 
 the general interest in their extraordinary 
 power. He was a preacher of the new re- 
 ligion. 
 
 In my wanderings through Judea, it must 
 be supposed that I had often met with those 
 Nazarenes. Their doctrines had a vivid 
 simplicity that might have attracted my at- 
 tention as a philosopher ; but the delight of 
 philosophy was cold to their power. The 
 splendor and strength of their preaching re- 
 alized the boldest traditions of oratory. Yet 
 their triumph was not that of oratory. They 
 disclaimed all pretension to eloquence or lite- 
 rature ; declaring that, even if they possessed 
 them, they dared not sully by human instru- 
 ments of success the glory due to Heaven. 
 They carried this self-denial to the singular 
 extent of divulging every circumstance cal- 
 culated to deprive themselves and their doc- 
 trines of human distinction. They openly 
 acknowledged that they were of humble birth 
 and occupation, unlearned sinners like the 
 rest of mankind, and, in some instances, guilty 
 of former excesses of blind zeal, bigots and 
 persecutors of the new religion even to 
 blood. 
 
 Of their master they spoke with the same 
 openness. They told of his humble origin, 
 12 
 
 his career of unpopularity and rejection, and 
 his death by the punishment of a slave. To 
 the scoffer at their hopes of a kingdom to be 
 given by the sufferer of that ignominious 
 death, they unhesitatingly answered, that 
 their hope was founded expressly upon his 
 cross ; and that they lived and rejoiced in the 
 expectation that they were to seal their faith 
 with their blood. 
 
 I had often seen enthusiasm among my 
 countrymen ; but this was a spirit of a dis- 
 tinct and loftier birth. It had the vigor of en- 
 thusiasm without its rashness ; the innocence 
 of infancy with the wisdom of years ; the 
 solemn reverence of the Jew for the divine 
 will, free from his jealous and exclusive claim 
 to the possession of the truth. The law and 
 the prophets were perpetually in their hands ; 
 and they perpetually embarrassed our indo- 
 lent doctors and acrid pharisees with ques- 
 tions and interpretations, to which no reply 
 could be returned but a sneer or an anath- 
 ema. 
 
 But, in the power of conviction, in the 
 master art of striking through the heart and 
 understanding with sudden light, like the 
 bolt from Heaven, I never heard, I never 
 shall hear, their equals. To call it eloquence, 
 was to humiliate this stupendous gift; the 
 most practised skill of the rhetorician gave 
 way before it like gossamer — like chaff be- 
 fore the whirlwind. It broke its way through 
 sophistry by the mere weight of thought. It 
 had a rapid abundance and reality that swept 
 the hearer along. In its disdain of the mere 
 decorations of speech, in the bold and naked 
 nerve of its language, which the sickly soph- 
 ist called uncouthness, there was an irresisti- 
 ble energy — the energy of the tempest, giv- 
 ing proof in its untameable and irregular 
 rushings, of its descent from a region beyond 
 the reach of man. I never listened to one 
 of these preachers, but with the consciousness 
 that he was the depository of mighty know- 
 ledge. He had the whole mystery of the 
 human affections bare to his eye. Among a 
 thousand hearts one word sent conviction at 
 the same instant. All their diversities of 
 feeling, sorrow, and error, were shaken at 
 once by that universal language. It talked 
 to the soul ! Of those overwhelming appeals, 
 which often lasted for hours together, and to 
 which I listened overwhelmed, nothing is 
 left to posterity, but a few fragments, and 
 those letters which the Christians still pre- 
 serve among their sacred writings, — great 
 productions, and giving all the impression 
 that it is possible to transmit to the future. 
 But, the living voice, the illuminated counte- 
 nance, the frame glowing and instinct with 
 inspiration ! — what can transmit them 1 
 “ Here,” said I, as I often stood and heard 
 their voices thundering over the multitude, 
 
172 
 
 Salat hiel. 
 
 “ here is the true power that is to shake the 
 temples of heathenism. Here is a new ele- 
 ment, come to overthrow, to renovate the 
 new world.” 1 saw our holy law struggling 
 to keep itself in existence, compressed on 
 every side by idolatry ; a little fountain fee- 
 bly urging its way through its native rocks, 
 but exhausted and dried up the moment it 
 reached the plain. But here was an ocean, 
 an inexhaustible depth and breadth of power, 
 made to roll round the world, and be, at the 
 will of Providence, the illimitable instrument 
 of its bounty. I saw our holy law feebly 
 sheltering under its despoiled and insulted 
 ordinances the truth of Heaven. But here 
 was a religion scorning a narrower temple 
 than the earth and the heaven ! 
 
 Yet I turned away from those convictions. 
 A thousand times, I was on the point of throw- 
 ing myself at the feet of the men who bore 
 this transcendent gift, and asking, “ What 
 shall I do to be saved!” A thousand times 
 I could have cried out, “ Almost thou per- 
 suadest me to be a Christain.” But my doubt- 
 ing heart ! I make no attempt to account 
 for myself, or my career; — l have felt as 
 strongly drawn back, as if there was an ac- 
 tual hand forcing me away. The illusion 
 was a willing one, and it was suffered, like 
 all such, to hold me in its captivity. But, 
 even when I walked away, I have said, 
 “ Whence had those men this knowledge! 
 If angels from God were to come down to 
 reclaim the world, could they tell us things 
 different, or tell us more !” 
 
 I looked round upon the labors of ancient 
 wisdom, and I saw how trivial a space its ut- 
 most vigor cleared, and how soon even that 
 space was overrun by the rankness of the 
 world ; and I said, “ Here is the central fire, 
 the mighty reservoir of light, awaiting but 
 the divine command to burst up in splendor, 
 consume the impurities of the world at once, 
 and regenerate mankind.” 
 
 But the veil was upon my face. I labored 
 against conviction ; and, shutting out the 
 subject from my thoughts, sternly determined 
 to live and die in the faith of my fathers. 
 
 I heard but the few and simple closing 
 words of the speaker in this group of the de- 
 voted. He was sorrowful that the gospel 
 had been so long committed to his hands in 
 vain. He had, through fear of his own inad- 
 equacy to the task of converting his brethren, 
 and in remaining deference to their preju- 
 dices, suffered the truth to decay; and seen 
 the illustrious labors of the apostles, without 
 following their example. “ But,” said he, “ I 
 was rebuked ; the opportunity, once neglect- 
 ed, was refused even to my prayers. I was 
 thenceforth in perils, in civil war, in domes- 
 tic sedition. I am but now come from a dun- 
 geon. But, in my bonds, it pleased Him in 
 
 whose hand are the corners of the heavens to 
 visit me. I knelt and prayed, acknowledged 
 my sin, and beseeching him by the mercies 
 of the Lord, that before I died, I might pro- 
 claim his holy truth before Israel. In that 
 hour came a voice bidding me go forth ; and, 
 lo! my chains fell from my hands, and I went 
 forth. And when I came to the gates of the 
 dungeon, I willed to go forward to the city 
 of David. But I was forbidden ; and my 
 steps were turned here to awake my breth- 
 ren to knowledge, before they perish.” 
 
 The trumpets rang again, as a new crowd 
 were drained off to execution. My heart 
 sank at the melancholy sound. But among 
 the converts there was not a murmur. 
 “ Kneel,” said the preacher ; “ the hour is 
 come. Let us give thanks unto the Lord.” 
 They knelt, and he poured out his spirit aloud 
 in prayer. 
 
 “ Now go forth,” he said, rising alone ; “ go 
 forth ! redeemed of the Lord. This night have 
 ye known that he is gracious. Those things 
 that God before hath showed by the mouth 
 of all his prophets that Christ should suffer, 
 he hath fulfilled. But ye have heard, but ye 
 have been convened, that your sins may be 
 blotted out when the times of refreshing shall 
 come from the presence of the Lord. But ye 
 have been called — but ye have been justified 
 — but ye shall be glorified. Our hope of you 
 is steadfast; knowing that as you have been 
 partakers of his cross, so shall ye be of his 
 kingdom. Now be grace unto you, and peace 
 from the Lord.” 
 
 He laid his hands upon the kneeling mar- 
 tyrs, and went slowly round, blessing them. 
 His face had been hitherto turned from me ; 
 and I was too much impressed by his words, 
 and the awful circumstances in which he 
 stood, to even conjecture who he was. But 
 in moving round, he came before me. To 
 my inexpressible surprise and alarm, the 
 teacher was Eleazar. I had lost every trace 
 of him since we parted in the fortress ; and, 
 with sorrow of heart, had concluded him a 
 sacrifice to the common atrocities practised 
 in our ferocious war. 
 
 His long absence was now explained. But 
 no explanation could account for the extraor- 
 dinary change that had been wrought upon 
 his countenance and mind. Always generous 
 and manly, the softness of a nature made for 
 domestic life had concealed the vigor of his 
 understanding. He was the general recon- 
 ciler in the disputes of the neighboring dis- 
 tricts — the impartial judge — the unwearied 
 friend ; and his features wore the stamp of 
 this quiet career. But the man before me 
 bore uncontrollable energy in every tone and 
 feature. The failing flame of the torch that 
 burned over his head, was enough to show 
 the transformation of his countenance into 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 173 
 
 force and grandeur ; his glance was a living 
 fire : the hair that floated over it, changed 
 by captivity to the whiteness of snow, shaded 
 a forehead that seemed to have suddenly ex- 
 panded into majesty. If l had met with such 
 a man in the desert, I should have augured 
 in him the founder, or the subverter of a 
 throne. 
 
 While I stood absolutely awed by his pre- 
 sence, the gates were thrown open, and a 
 strong detachment of spearmen poured in to 
 gather up the gleanings of the hall. Then 
 was renewed the scene of misery. The pris- 
 oners struggled furiously against the horrid 
 death that was now certain. Their rage and 
 imprecations were answered by the blows 
 and curses of the soldiery. Wretches, that 
 1 had thought dead, started from the ground, 
 and flung themselves at their feet; or rushed 
 against the armed ranks, tore the weapons 
 out of their hands, and broke them in mad 
 triumph through the hall; or turned them 
 against the shields and cuirasses with the 
 force of frenzy. Others dashed their fore- 
 heads against the walls and floor, and died 
 upon the spot. Others sprang up the projec- 
 tions of the sculpture, and climbed with the 
 agility of leopards to the roof to force the 
 casements. But additional troops poured in ; 
 and the crowd were overwhelmed, and driven 
 out to undergo their destiny. 
 
 During this long tumult the Christian con- 
 verts continued kneeling, and evidently ab- 
 sorbed by thoughts that extinguished fear. 
 Even the sounds from without, that terribly 
 told what was going on, and every tone of 
 which pierced me to the marrow, produced 
 only a deeper supplication that light would 
 be given to the souls of the sufferers. This 
 patience probably induced the soldiery to 
 leave them to the last, while they drove out 
 the more untractable at the point of the spear, 
 like cattle to the slaughter. I still stood 
 aloof. The sacredness of the moments that 
 came before death were not to be interrupted. 
 The transformed Eleazar had already passed 
 away from the things of this world. I would 
 not force them on him again, nor vainly and 
 cruelly disturb the holy serenity of one at 
 peace alike with man and Heaven. At length 
 the order came. “ Now, my beloved brothers, 
 beloved in the Lord, go forth,” said Eleazar, 
 with a noble exultation glowing in his coun- 
 tenance, “ Quit ye like men ; be strong ; fear 
 not them who can kill only the body. Even 
 this night saw you still in your sins — the 
 wisdom that was before all worlds, hidden 
 from you — without a Saviour. But He that 
 calleth light out of darkness, hath wrought 
 in you. The ear of the Lord has not been 
 heavy, that he should not hear ; his hand has 
 not been straitened. He has poured upon 
 ycv that Spirit which is an earnest of your 
 
 inheritance, holy, incorruptible, eternal in 
 the heavens. Now, sons of Abraham, re- 
 deemed of Christ, kings and priests of God 
 for ever; go, where he is gone to prepare a 
 place for you. Go, to the house of many 
 mansions. Go, to the kingdom of glory.” 
 
 With tears and blessings, Eleazar took 
 water, and baptized the converts. They 
 sang a hymn, and then rising, moved towards 
 the gate, the soldiers standing at a distance, 
 and looking on at this more than heroic re- 
 signation with eyes of respect and wonder. 
 But I could restrain myself no longer. I 
 stopped Eleazar ; he instantly recognized 
 me ; and the color that shot through his 
 cheek showed that with me came a tide of 
 memory. I was speechless; I embraced 
 him : tears of old friendship dimmed my eyes. 
 He was overpowered, like myself, and could 
 only exclaim — “ Salathiel ; my brother, — 
 what misfortune has brought you here 1 — But 
 you are not to diel — Where is Miriam, — 
 where are your children 1 — You cannot be a 
 prisoner 1 — Fly from this dreadful place.” 
 
 “Never, my brother; unless I can save 
 you. The tyrants shall have the blood of both 
 upon their heads.” 
 
 “ This is madness, Salathiel — impiety ; ! oh 
 that you were this moment even as I am — in 
 all but death. It is your duty to live ; you 
 have many ties to the world. What have 1 1 
 or what service can I do the world, equal to 
 that of showing in what peace a follower of 
 my Lord and Master can die 1 Again, I say, 
 oh that you were at this moment awake to 
 the truths, the holy and imperishable conso- 
 lations, that make the cross to me more tri- 
 umphant than a throne !” 
 
 The theme was a painful one. He instant- 
 ly saw my perturbation, and forebore to urge 
 me. But fixing his humid eyes on heaven, 
 and with uplifted hands, he gave me his part- 
 ing benediction. “ May the time come,” 
 said he, “ when the veil shall be taken away 
 from the face of my unhappy kindred, and of 
 my undone country ! When the days of the 
 desolation of Israel come to be accomplished, 
 let her kneel before the altar — let her weep 
 in sackcloth, and repent of her iniquities ; 
 so shall the son of glory rise upon her once 
 more.” Then, as if a flash of knowledge had 
 darted into his soul, he fixed his solemn gaze 
 on me. “ Salathiel, you are not fit to die ; 
 pray that you may not now sink into the 
 grave : you have fierce impulses, untamed 
 passions, of whose power you have yet no 
 conception. Supplicate for length of years ; 
 rather endure all the miseries of exile ; be 
 alone upon the earth — weary, wild, and deso- 
 late : but pray that you may not die, until 
 you know the truths that Israel yet shall 
 j know. Let it be for me to die, and seal my 
 ! faith by my .blood. Let it be for you to live 
 
174 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 and seal it by your penitence. But live in 
 hope. Even on earth, a day bright beyond 
 earthly splendor; lovely beyond all the vis- 
 ions of beauty ; magnificent and powerful 
 beyond the loftiest thought of human nature, 
 shall come; and we, even we, my brother, 
 shall on earth meet again.” 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 There was a thrilling influence in the 
 words of Eleazar, that left me without reply; 
 and for a while I stood absorbed. When II 
 raised my eyes again, I saw him following 
 the melancholy train down the valley of 
 slaughter. I rushed after him. He would 
 not listen to my entreaties ; he would suffer 
 no ransom to be offered for his life. I sup- 
 plicated the tribune of the escort for a mo- 
 ment’s delay, until I could solicit mercy from 
 Titus. The officer, himself deeply pained 
 by the service on which he was ordered, 
 had no authority, but sent a centurion with 
 me to the general commanding. 
 
 I hurried my guide through the immense 
 force, drawn out to witness the offering to 
 the shades of the Roman senators and soldiers. 
 The morning was stormy; and driving clouds 
 covering the ridges of the hills, darkened the 
 feeble dawn so much, that torches were ne- 
 cessary to direct the movement of the troops. 
 The wind came howling through the spears 
 and standards ; but with it came the fiercer 
 sounds of human agony. As we reached the 
 entrance of the valley, the centurion pointed 
 to the height where the general stood, in the 
 midst of a group of mounted officers wrapped 
 .n their cloaks, against the sleet that came 
 furiously whirling from the hills. 
 
 I darted up the steep with a rapidity that 
 left my companion far below, and implored 
 the Roman humanity for my countrymen, and 
 for my noble and innocent brother. On my 
 knee, on the knee that I had never before 
 bowed to man, I besought the illustrious son 
 of Vespasian to spare men, “ whose only 
 crime was that of having defended their 
 country.” I adjured the heir of the empire 
 “ to rescue from an ignominious fate, subjects 
 driven into revolt only by violences, which 
 he would be the first to disown. If,” said I, 
 
 “ you demand money for the lives of my 
 countrymen, it shall be given even to our 
 last ounce of silver ; if you would have terri-i 
 tory, we will give up our lands, and go forth! 
 exiles. If you must have life for life, take] 
 mine, and let my brother go free !” 
 
 The general slowly removed the cloak; 
 which covered him to the eyes; and Ce3tiusi 
 was before me. “So,” said he, with a ma-j 
 lignant smile, “ you can kneel, Jew, and play' 
 
 the rhetorician : however, as you are here, 
 your having escaped me once, is no reason 
 why you should laugh at justice a second 
 time. Here, Torquatus,” he beckoned to an 
 officer, “ take this rebel to the crosses; and 
 bring me an account of the way in which he 
 behaves. You see, Jew, that I have some 
 care of your reputation. A fellow careless 
 as you are, would probably have died in some 
 paltry skirmish; but you shall now figure 
 before your countrymen, as a patriot should, 
 and die with the honors of a native hero.” 
 
 I disdained to answer. The officer came 
 up, attended by some spearmen ; and I was 
 led to the valley. A snow-storm of extra- 
 ordinary violence, long gathering on the sky, 
 broke forth as I descended, and it was only 
 by grasping the rocks and shrubs on the side 
 of the declivity that we could avoid being 
 blown away. We staggered along' blinded 
 and half-frozen. The storm fell heavily upon 
 the legions, and the heights were quickly 
 abandoned for the shelter of the valley. The 
 valley itself was a sheet of snow, tom up by 
 fierce blasts that drifted it hazardously upon 
 the troops, and threw every thing into con- 
 fusion. 
 
 But the sight that opened on me as I passed 
 the first gorge, effaced storm, and soldiery, 
 and might have effaced the world from my 
 mind. Through the whole extent of the 
 huge, naked, and rocky hollow, were planted 
 crosses. The ravine, dark even in sun-shine, 
 was now black as midnight; and its only 
 light was from the scattered torches, and the 
 fires into which the bodies of the victims 
 were flung as they died, to make room for 
 others. On those crosses hung hundreds, 
 writhing in miseries, made only to show the 
 hideous capability of suffering that exists in 
 our frame. I was instantly recognized, and 
 many a hand was stretched out to me, im- 
 ploring that I should mercifully hasten death. 
 I heard my name called on, as their prince, 
 their leader, their countryman, to remember 
 and revenge. Incensed and horror-struck, I 
 raved at the legionaries and their tyrant 
 master; until I sank upon the ground in ex- 
 haustion, covering my head with my mantle, 
 that I might exclude alike sight and sound. 
 
 A voice at my side aroused me ; a cross 
 had just been fixed on the spot, and at its 
 foot stood, preparing for death, the man who 
 had spoken. I looked upon his face, and gave 
 an involuntary cry. For seven-and-thirty 
 years I had not seen that face ; but I had seen 
 it on a night never to be erased from my re- 
 membrance, or my soul. I knew every fea- 
 ture of it through all the changes of years. 
 
 Manhood had passed into age ; the bold 
 and sanguine countenance was furrowed with 
 cares and crimes. But I knew at once the 
 man who had on that night been foremost at 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 175 
 
 my call ; the daring rabble leader, who had : 
 first shouted at my fatal summons; and mad- 
 dened the multitude, as I had maddened my- 
 self and him. He turned his glance upon 
 me at the cry. His pale visage grew black 
 as death. The past flashed upon his soul. 
 He shook from head to foot with keen con- 
 vulsion. He gasped, and tried to speak, but 
 no words came. He beat his breast wildly, 
 and pointed to the cross with dreadful mean- 
 ing. The executioner, a brutal slave, scoffed 
 at him as a dastard. He heard nothing ; but 
 with his palid eyes staring on me, and his 
 hand pointed upwards, stood stiffening. Life 
 departed as he stood ! The executioner, im- 
 patient, laid his grasp upon him ; but he was 
 beyond the power of man. He fell backward 
 like a pillar of stone. 
 
 I started from the corpse, and, utterly un- 
 nerved, looked wildly round for some way of 
 escape from this scene of despair. As I tried 
 to penetrate the dusk towards the bottom of 
 the valley, Eleazar was seen at the head of 
 his little band, standing at the foot of a cross, 
 surrounded by soldiers. I thought no more 
 of safety ; and, plunging into the valley, forced 
 my way through the rocks and snow-drifts, till 
 I reached the foot of the declivity on which 
 this true hero was about to die. But there 
 an impenetrable fence of spears stopped me. 
 
 I implored, execrated, struggled ; Eleazar’s 
 eye fell on me ; and the smile on his uplifted 
 countenance showed at once how much he 
 thanked me, and how calmly he was prepared 
 to bid the world farewell. My struggles 
 were useless, and I had but one resource 
 more. 
 
 I flew, with a swiftness that baffled pursuit, 
 to the camp; passed the intrenchments by 
 the breaches left since the battle ; and, before 
 I could be stopped or questioned, entered the 
 tent of Titus. 
 
 The supper lamps were burning, and three 
 stately-looking men still lingered over the I 
 table, one of the few unpopular luxuries of j 
 the general. A large packet of letters were! 
 being distributed by a page; and, while I 
 stood in the shade of the tent-curtain a mo- 
 ment until I should ascertain whether Titus 
 was among the three, I was made the un- 
 willing sharer of the secrets of Rome. 
 
 “ All is going on well,” said one of the 
 readers. “Here that truest of courtiers, my 
 showy friend Statilius, sends, compiled by 
 his own hand, an endless list of the pomps 
 and processions, games and congratulations, 
 in the Emperor’s progress through Italy. 
 The intelligence is not the newest in the 
 world. But it would break my courtly 
 friend’s heart to think that he had not the 
 happiness of giving it first. So let him think , 1 
 and so let him worship the rising sun, until 
 another dynasty comes, and he discovers that 
 
 if this sun have risen in the east, a much 
 finer one may rise in the west. Thus runs 
 the world.” 
 
 “ War with the Britons,” read another. 
 “ They have marched a hundred of their 
 naked clans from the hills. The remnant 
 of the Druids are busy again with their in- 
 cantations; and it is more than suspected 
 that the whole is stirred up by our incom- 
 parable governor of western Gaul, who af- 
 fects the diadem, like all the ridiculous gov- 
 ernors of the age.” 
 
 “ Well, then, he shall have his wish,” 
 said a third. “ The Emperor will give him, 
 of course, a court fit for a rebel : his council, 
 lictors; and his palace, a dungeon in the 
 Mamertine. But, as to the Britons, I doubt 
 their caring one of their own leather pence 
 whether he wears the diadem or halter. The 
 savages have probably been vexed by some 
 new attempt to squeeze money from them — 
 the quickest way to try the national sensibili- 
 ties. They have the spirit of trade in them 
 already, and are as keen in the barter of their 
 wolf skins and bulls’ hides, as if they supplied 
 the world with Tyrian canopies and Indian 
 pearls.” 
 
 “A letter from Sempronius! — By Venus, 
 its exquisite intaglio and elaborate perfumes 
 would betray it all the world over ; full of 
 scandals, as usual, and frill of discontent. 
 He seems quite dismantled ; and complains 
 that — the sex are growing ugly, the seasons 
 comfortless, and mankind dull ; a certain 
 sign that my emptiest of friends, and the best 
 dresser in Italy, is growing old.” 
 
 “ So much the better for his circle. As 
 for himself, while he can flourish in curls and 
 calumny, he will be happy, the true man of 
 high life, a prey to tailors, a figure for actors 
 to burlesque, and an inveterate weariness to 
 the world.” 
 
 “ But here is a despatch from the Emperor, 
 and, unfortunately for human eyes, written 
 in his own, most unreadable hand.” The 
 speaker stood up to the lamp, and gave me 
 an opportunity of observing him. His coun- 
 tenance and figure struck me, as what no 
 other word could express than — princely. 
 The features were handsome, and strongly 
 marked Italian ; and the form, though tend- 
 ing to breadth, and rather under the usual 
 stature, was eminently dignified. His voice 
 too was remarkable. I never heard one that 
 more completely united softness and ma- 
 jesty. 
 
 Here I could have but the shadow of a 
 doubt that I had found Titus ; yet I had that 
 shadow. Our meeting in the field, where 
 we fought hand to hand, gave me no recol- 
 lection of the man before me. Titus might 
 not even be among the three ; and nothing 
 but seizure and ruin could be the conse- 
 
176 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 quence of discovering myself to subordi- 
 nates. 
 
 “ Good news, it is to be hoped,” said both 
 the listeners together, as they deferentially 
 watched his perusal. 
 
 “ None whatever ; a mere private chroni- 
 cle, in the Emperor’s usual style ; all kinds 
 of oddities together. He laughs at me for 
 complaining of want of intelligence from 
 Rome, and says that, unless we send him 
 some, the politicians of the city will die of 
 emptiness, or raise a rebellion ; and that he 
 is the most ill-used personage in the empire, 
 in being obliged to supply brains for so many 
 blockheads, and keep up the reputation of an 
 honest man, in the midst of so many knaves. 
 But he mentions, and for that I am deeply 
 grateful, that he has just erected the golden 
 statue, which I vowed so long ago to the 
 memory of my unfortunate friend Britanni- 
 cus ; and is about to dedicate an ivory eques- 
 trian one to him, to be placed in the Circus. 
 He concludes the epistle with saying that, 
 unless the British insurrection speedily blows 
 over, he shall be a beggar, and must turn tri- 
 bune for a livelihood; defends his impracti- 
 cable manuscript, which, he says, I am imi- 
 tating as fast as I can ; and repeats his old 
 jest, that — if I were not born to be a prince 
 and an idler, I might have made my bread 
 by my talents for forgery.” His hearers re- 
 paid the imperial merriment by its full tri- 
 bute of loyal laughter. 
 
 Doubt was now at an end, and I advanced. 
 My step roused the party, and they started 
 up, drawing their swords. But the quick eye 
 of Titus recognized me; and satisfying his 
 companions by a gesture, I heard him pro- 
 nounce to them ; “ My antagonist, the prince 
 of Naphtali.” There was no time for cere- 
 mony ; and I addressed hirn at once. 
 
 “ Son of Vespasian, you are a soldier, and 
 know what is due to the brave; I come to 
 solicit your mercy ; it is the first time that I 
 ever stooped to solicit man. My brother, a 
 chieftain of Israel, is in your hands, con- 
 demned to the horrid death of the cross ; he 
 is virtuous, brave, and noble; save him, and 
 you will do an act of justice more honorable 
 to your name than the bloodiest victory.” 
 
 Titus looked at me in silence, and evident- 
 ly perplexed ; then returned to his chair, and 
 having consulted with his companions, hesi- 
 tatingly pronounced : “ Prince, you know 
 not what you have asked. 1 am bound, like 
 others, by the Emperor’s commands; and they 
 strictly are, that none of your countrymen, 
 taken after the offer of peace, must live.” 
 
 “ Hear this, God of Israel,” I cried, “King 
 of vengeance, hear and remember.” 
 
 “ You are rash, prince,” said Titus, grave- 
 ly; “yet 1 can forgive your national temper. 
 With others, even your venturing here might 
 
 bring you into hazard. But, the perfidity of 
 , your people makes truce and treaty impossi- 
 ' ble. They leave me no alternative. I lament 
 the necessity. It is the desire of the illus- 
 trious Vespasian to reign in peace. But this 
 is now at an end.” 
 
 He paused, and advancing towards me, of- 
 fered his hand, with the words, “I know that 
 there are brave and high-minded men among 
 your nation. I have been astonished at the 
 valor, nay, I will call it, the daring and he- 
 roic contempt of suffering and death, that 
 this siege has already shown. I have been 
 witness, too,” and he smiled, “of the prince 
 of Naphtali’s prowess in the field, and I 
 would most willingly have such among my 
 friends.” I waited for the conclusion. 
 “ Why not come among us,” said he ; “ give 
 up resistance that must end in ruin; abandon 
 a cause that all the world sees to be despe- 
 rate ; save yourself from popular caprice, the 
 violence of your rancorous factions, and the 
 final fall of your city 1 — Be Caesar’s friend ; 
 and name what life, possession, or employ 
 you will.” 
 
 The thought of deserting the cause of 
 Jerusalem was profanation. I drew back, 
 and looked at the majestic Roman, as if I saw 
 the original tempter at my side. 
 
 “Son of Vespasian, I am at this hour a 
 poor man ; as I may in the next be an exile 
 or a slave ; I have ties to life as strong as 
 ever bouud round the heart of man ; I stand 
 here a suppliant for the life of one whose loss 
 would embitter mine ! Yet, not for wealth 
 unlimited, for the safety of my family, for 
 the life of the noble victim that is now stand- 
 ing at the place of torture, dare I abandon, 
 dare I think the impious thought of abandon- 
 ing, the cause of the City of Holiness.” 
 
 The picture of her ruin rose before my 
 eyes, and tears forced their way ; my strength 
 was dissolved ; my voice was choked. The 
 Romans fixed their looks on the ground, af- 
 fected by the sincerity of a soldier’s sorrow. 
 I took the hand that was again offered. 
 
 “ Titus ! in the name of that Being, to 
 whom the wisdom of earth is folly, I adjure 
 you to beware. Jerusalem is sacred. Her 
 crimes have often wrought her misery — often 
 has she been trampled by the armies of the 
 stranger. But she is still the City of the 
 Omnipotent; and never was blow inflicted 
 on her by man that was not terribly repaid. 
 
 “The Assyrian came, the mightiest power 
 of the world ; he plundered her temple, and 
 led her people into captivity. How long was 
 it before his empire was a dream, his dynasty 
 extinguished in hlood, and an enemy on his 
 ■ throne ! — The Persian came ; from her pro- 
 tector he turned into her oppressor ; and his 
 empire was swept away like the dust of the 
 I desert! — The Syrian smote her; the smiter 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 Ill 
 
 died in agonies of remorse; and where is his 
 kingdom now 1 — The Egyptian smote her ; 
 and who now sits on the throne of the Ptole- 
 mies "? — Pompey came ; the invincible, the 
 conqueror of a thousand cities; the light of 
 Rome; the lord of Asia, riding on the very 
 wings of victory. But he profaned her Tem- 
 ple : and from that hour lie went down — 
 down, like a mill-stone plunged into the 
 ocean ! Blind counsel, rash ambition, wo- 
 manish fears, were upon the great statesman 
 and warrior of Rome. Where does he sleep"! 
 What sands were colored w’ith his blood 1 
 The universal conqueror died a slave, by the 
 hands of a slave ! — Crassus came at the head 
 of the legions ; he plundered the sacred ves- 
 sels of the sanctuary. Vengeance followed 
 him, and he was cursed by the curse of God. 
 Where are the bones of the robber and his 
 host"! Go, tear them from the jaws of the 
 lion and the wolf of Parthia — their fitting 
 tomb ! 
 
 “ You, too, son of Vespasian, may be com- 
 missioned for the punishment of a stiff-neck- 
 ed and rebellious people. You may scourge 
 our naked vice by the force of arms ; and 
 then you may return to your own land exult- 
 ing in the conquest of the fiercest enemy of 
 Rome. But shall you escape the common 
 fate of the instrument of evil '! — shall you see 
 a peaceful old age"! — shall a son of yours 
 ever sit upon the throne"! — shall not rather 
 some monster of your blood efface the mem- 
 ory of your virtues, and make Rome, in bit- 
 terness of soul, curse the Flavian name"!” 
 
 Titus grew pale ; and shuddering, covered 
 his eyes with his mantle, as he sat. His 
 companions stood gazing on me with the 
 awed aspect of men gazing on the messenger 
 of fate. “ Spare Eleazar,” was all that I 
 could utter. Titus made a sign to the page ; 
 who flew to bear, if not too late, the orders 
 of mercy. 
 
 While we continued in a silence that none 
 of us felt inclined to break, a door opened be- 
 nind me. and an officer entered. It was Sep- 
 timius. I seized him by the throat. “Vil- 
 lain ! give me back my child ; base hypo- 
 crite ! give up my innocent daughter. Where 
 have you taken her "! Lead me to her, or 
 die.” , 
 
 Titus rose in evident surprise and indigna- 
 tion. “What do I hear, Septimius! have 
 you been guilty of this offence"! Prince, let 
 iim loose, until his General shall hear what 
 he has to say for himself.” 
 
 Septimius affected the most extreme and 
 easy ignorance. “ Most noble Titus, I have 
 to thank you for having saved my neck from 
 the grasp of this hasty personage ; but, be- 
 yond that, I have nothing to say for myself, 
 or any one else. I never saw this man be- 
 fore. I know no more of his daughter than 
 
 of the queen of Abyssinia, or the three-form- 
 ed Diana : and, by the goddess I swear, that 
 I believe him to be perfectly under her in- 
 fluence ; and either a lunatic, or a most ex- 
 cellent actor. Be honest, Jew, if you can, 
 and acknowledge that you never saw me be- 
 fore in your life.” 
 
 I stood in astonishment ; his effrontery 
 struck me dumb. “ You perceive, most noble 
 Titus,” he went on, “ how a plain question 
 puts an end to this public accuser’s charges. 
 But, in his present state, whether affected or 
 real, he should not be suffered to go at large : 
 suffer me to send him to my quarters, where 
 I he shall be taken sufficient care of, until we 
 at least find out what brought him here.” 
 
 “ Ingrate,” I exclaimed, “ you make me 
 hate human nature ; is this my return "! bet- 
 ter that I had left you to be trampled like the 
 viper that you are.” 
 
 The dark eye of the general, fixed on Sep- 
 timius, seemed to require a graver explana- 
 tion. 
 
 “ Ingrate,” retorted he. “ By Jupiter, the 
 fellow’s insolence is superb. For what should 
 I be grateful 1 but for my escape from his de- 
 testable hands ; or, perhaps he means those 
 of his countrymen. Very probably he figured 
 among the rabble that would have murdered 
 me, as they did the rest of us: — grateful, 
 yes, I ought to be, for an exhibition of human 
 villainy that I might search the world through 
 without seeing again; or, for the lesson, 
 never to venture within his walls on the 
 faith of the traitors that hold them. But, let 
 me be allowed to say, most noble Titus, that 
 you condescend too much in listening to any 
 of this rabble ; nay, that you hazard the safe- 
 ty of the state in hazarding your person with- 
 in the reach of one of a race of assassins.” 
 
 Titus smiled, and waved back his compan- 
 ions, who, on the surmise, were approaching 
 him. 
 
 “ Let me be honored with your commands,” 
 urged Septiinius, “ to take this person in 
 charge : felon, or insane, I shall speedily put 
 him in the way of cure.” 
 
 A tribune, breathless with haste, came in 
 at the moment with a letter, which he gave 
 to Titus; and retired to a distant part of the 
 tent to await the answer. The color rose in 
 the Roman’s cheek as he looked over the 
 paper; he showed it to his companions, and 
 then put it into my hand. I read the words — 
 
 “ An assassin, hired by the chiefs of Jeru- 
 salem, yesterday passed the gates. His ob- 
 ject is the life of the Roman general. He 
 goes under pretence of recovering one of his 
 [family, supposed to be carried off from the 
 city, but who has never left his house. He 
 has communications with the camp, by which 
 he can enter at pleasure ; and the noble Ti 
 i tus cannot be too much on his guard.” 
 
178 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 The note was in an inclosure from Cestius, 
 stating' that it had been just transmitted to 
 him from a high authority in Jerusalem. 
 
 I flung it on the ground with the scorn due 
 to such an accusation, declaring that it was 
 unnecessary for “my enemy Cestius to have 
 put his name to a document which so easily 
 revealed its writer.” 
 
 “ You, of course, Septimius,” said the gen- 
 eral, settling his penetrating gaze on him, 
 “could know nothing of this letter 1” 
 
 Septimius entered on his defence with 
 seriousness ; and showed that, from the time 
 and circumstances, no share in it could be 
 attached to him. Titus retired a few steps, 
 and having consulted with the officers, who 
 I perceived were unanimous for my being in- 
 stantly put to death, addressed me in that 
 grave and silver-toned voice which charac- 
 terized the singular composure of his nature. 
 
 “ We have exchanged blows and pledges 
 of honor, prince; and I will not suffer myself 
 to believe that a man of your rank and sol- 
 diership could stoop to the crime charged 
 here. In truth, were none but personal con- 
 sideration to be in question, I should instant- 
 ly set you free. But there are weighty in- 
 terests connected with my life, which make 
 it seem fitting to my friends and advisers 
 that, in all cases, precautions should be taken, 
 which otherwise I should disdain. To satis- 
 fy their minds, and the spirit of the Emperor’s 
 orders, I must detain you for a few days. 
 Your treatment shall be honorable.” 
 
 Septimius advanced again to demand my 
 custody. But a look repelled the request, 
 and I was directed to follow one of the secre- 
 taries of Titus. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 A troop of cavalry were at the tent door. 
 We set off through the storm; and, a few 
 miles from the camp, reached a large build- 
 ing, peopled with a host of high functionaries, 
 attached to Titus, as governor of Judea. 
 
 “You are a prodigious favorite with the 
 general,” said my companion, as we passed 
 through a range of magnificent rooms fur- 
 nished with Italian luxury; “or he would 
 never have sent you here. He had these 
 chambers furnished for his own residence, but 
 your countrymen have kept him too busy ; and 
 for the last month he is indebted to you for 
 sleeping under canvass.” 
 
 I observed that “ peace was the first wish 
 of my heart. But that no people could be 
 reproached with contending too boldly for 
 freedom.” 
 
 “ The sentiment is Roman,” was the re- 
 ply. “But let us come to the fact. Titus, 
 
 once fixed in the government, would be 
 worth all the fantasies that ever fed the de- 
 claimers on independence. His character is 
 peace ; and if he ever come to the empire, 
 he will make the first of monarchs. You 
 should try him, and reap the first fruits of his 
 talent for making people happy. There; 
 look round this room : you see every panel 
 hung with a picture, a lyre, or a volume ; 
 what does that tell 1” 
 
 “ Certainly not the habits of a soldier ; yet 
 he is distinguished in the field.” 
 
 “ No man more. There is not a rider in 
 the legions that can sit a horse, or manage a 
 lance better. He has the talents of a gene- 
 ral besides; and more than all, he has the 
 most iron perseverance that ever dwelt in the 
 bosom of man. If the two armies were to 
 slaughter each other until there was but half 
 a dozen spearmen left between them, Titus 
 would head his remnant, and battle it out till 
 he died. But whether it is nature, or the 
 poison that he drank with Britannicus, he 
 wants the eternal vividness of his father. 
 Aye, there was the soldier for the legions. 
 Look, prince, at this picture, and tell me 
 what you think of the countenance.” 
 
 He drew aside the curtain that covered a 
 superb equestrian portrait of the Emperor. 
 
 I saw a countenance of incomparable 
 shrewdness, eccentricity, and self-enjoyment. 
 Every feature told the same tale, from the 
 rounded and dimpled chin to the broad and 
 deeply veined forehead, overhung with its 
 rough mat of hair. The hooked nose, the 
 deep wrinkles about the lips, the thick dark 
 eyebrow, obliquely raised, as if some new 
 jest was gathering, showed the perpetual hu- 
 morist. But the eye beneath that brow — an 
 orb black as charcoal, with a spot of intense 
 brightness in the centre, as if a breath could 
 turn that coal into flame — belonged to the 
 supreme sagacity and determination that 
 had raised Vespasian from a cottage to the 
 throne. 
 
 The secretary, whose jovial character 
 strongly resembled that of the object of his 
 panegyric, could not restrain his admiration. 
 “ There,” said he, “ is the man who has 
 fought more battles, said more things, and 
 taken less physic, than any emperor that ever 
 wore the diadem. I served with him from 
 decurion up to tribune ; and he was always 
 the same ; active, brave, and laughing from 
 morn till night. Old as he is, day-light 
 never finds him in his bed. He rides, swims, 
 runs, outjests every body ; and frowns at 
 nothing on earth, but an old woman and a 
 physician. He loves money, ’tis true ; but 
 what he squeezes from the overgrown, he 
 scatters like a prince. But his mirth is inex- 
 haustible ; a little rough, so much for his 
 camp education; but the most curious mix- 
 
Saluthiel. 
 
 179 
 
 ture of justice, spleen, and pleasantry in the' 
 world.” My companion’s memory teemed 
 with examples. 
 
 — “ An Alexandrian governor was ordered 
 to Rome to account for a long course of ex- 
 tortion : immediately on his arrival he pre- 
 tended to be taken violently ill ; which of 
 course put off the inquiry. The Emperor 
 heard of this; expressed the greatest interest 
 in so meritorious a public servant; paid him 
 a visit the next day as a physician ; ordered 
 him a variety of medicines, which the un- 
 fortunate governor was compelled to take ; 
 renewed his visit regularly every day, and 
 every day charged him an enormous fee. 
 Beggary stared the governor in the face ; and 
 never was a complication of disorders so 
 rapidly cured. 
 
 — “ I was riding out with him one day, a 
 few miles from Rome, when we saw a fellow 
 beating his mule cruelly; and, on being call- 
 ed to, insisting on his right to ‘ do what he 
 would with his own.’ I was indignant, and 
 would have fought the mule’s quarrel. But 
 the Emperor laughed at my zeal ; and after 
 some jesting with the brutal owner bought 
 the mule, only annexing the condition, that 
 the fellow should lead it to the stable : — he 
 actually sent him with the mule two hundred 
 and fifty miles, on foot, to one of his palaces 
 in Gaul, with a lictor after him, to see that 
 the contract was fairly performed. 
 
 — “ One of his chamberlains had been so- 
 liciting a place about court for, as he said, 
 his brother. The Emperor found out the 
 fact, that it was for a stranger, who was to 
 lay down a large sum. He sent for the 
 stranger, ratified the bargain, gave the place, 
 and put the money in his own pocket. The 
 chamberlain was in great alarm on meeting 
 the Emperor some days after. ‘ Your dejec- 
 tion is natural enough,’ said Vespasian, ‘as 
 you have so lately lost your brother ; but 
 then, you should wish me joy, for he has be- 
 come mine.’ 
 
 “ By the altar of Momus, and the brass 
 beard of the god Ridiculus, I could tell you 
 a hundred things of the same kind,” said the 
 jovial and inexhaustible secretary. “Take 
 but one more.” 
 
 — “ One of our great patricians, an ^Emi- 
 lian, and as vain and insolent a beast as lives, 
 had ordered a quantity of particularly striped 
 cloth, which it cost the merchant infinite 
 pains to procure. But the great man’s taste 
 had altered in the meantime, and he return- 
 ed the cloth without ceremony, threatening, 
 besides, that, if the merchant made any clam- 
 ors on the subject, his payment should be six 
 months’ work in the slave-mill. 
 
 “ The man, on the verge of ruin, came, 
 tearing his hair and bursting with rage, to 
 lay his complaint before the Emperor ; who, , 
 
 however, plainly told him that there was no 
 remedy; but desired him to send a dress of 
 the cloth to the palace. Within the week, 
 the patrician was honored with a message, 
 that the Emperor would dine with him, and 
 the message was accompanied with the dress, 
 and an intimation that Vespasian wished to 
 make it popular. Rome was instantly ran- 
 sacked for the cloth ; but not a yard of it was 
 to be found but in the single merchant’s 
 hands. The patrician’s household must be 
 equipped in it, cost what it would. The deal- 
 er, in pleasant revenge, charged ten times 
 the value, and his fortune was made in a 
 day. 
 
 “ Now Titus, with many a noble quality, 
 is altogether another man. He abhors the 
 Emperor’s rough-hewn jocularity ; he speaks 
 Greek better than the Emperor does his own 
 tongue, is a poet, and a clever one besides, 
 in both languages ; extemporizes verse with 
 elegance ; is no mean performer on the lyre ; 
 sings ; is a picture-lover, and so forth. I be- 
 lieve from my soul that, with all his talents 
 for war and government, he would rather 
 spend his day over books, and his evenings 
 among poets and philosophers, or telling Ita- 
 lian tales to the ears of some of your brilliant 
 orientals, than ride over the world at the 
 head of the legions. And now,” said my 
 open-hearted guide, “having betrayed court 
 secrets enough for one day, I must leave you 
 and return to the camp. Here you will 
 spend your time as you please; until some 
 decision is come to. The household is at 
 your service, and the officer in command will 
 attend your orders ; — farewell !” 
 
 Captivity is wretchedness, even if the cap- 
 tive tread on cloth of gold. My treatment 
 was imperial; a banquet that might have 
 feasted a Roman epicure, was laid before me ; 
 a crowd of attendants, sumptuously habited, 
 waited round the table; music played, per- 
 fumes burned ; the whole ceremonial of 
 princely luxury was gone through, as if Titus 
 were present, instead of his heart-broken pris- 
 oner. But to that prisoner, bread and water 
 with freedom would have been the truer lux- 
 ury. 
 
 I wandered through the spacious apart- 
 ments, dazzled by their splendor, and often 
 ready to ask, “ Can man be unhappy in the 
 midst of these things ?” yet, answering the 
 question in the pangs of heart which they 
 were so powerless to soothe. 
 
 I took down the richly-blazoned volumes 
 of the Western poets, and while, at every 
 line that I unrolled, I felt how much richer 
 were their contents than the gold and gems 
 that incased them, I yet felt the inadequacy 
 of even their beauty and vigor to console the 
 spirit stricken by real calamity. 
 
 I threw aside the volumes, and strayed to 
 
180 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 the casements, through which the sunset be- 
 gan to pour in a tide of glory. The land- 
 scape beneath was beautiful ; — a peaceful 
 valley, shut in with lofty eminences, on whose 
 marble foreheads the sunbeams wrought cor- 
 onets, as colored and glittering as ever were 
 set with crysolite and ruby. The snow was 
 gone as rapidly as it had come; and the 
 green earth in the freshness of the bright 
 hour might almost be said “ to laugh and 
 sing.” The air came fanning and warm 
 from the reviving flowers. There was a light 
 and joyous beauty in even the waving of the 
 shrubs, as they shook off the moisture in 
 sparkles, at every wave ; birds innumerable 
 broke out into song, and fluttered their little 
 wet wings with delight in the sunshine ; and 
 the rivulet, still swelled with the shower, ran 
 dimpling and gurgling along, with a music 
 of its own. 
 
 But the true sadness of the soul is not to 
 so scattered by the life and loveliness of ex- 
 ternal things. I turned from the sun and 
 nature to fling myself on my couch, and feel 
 that, where a man’s treasure is, there his 
 heart is also. 
 
 “ What might not be doing in Jerusalem 1 
 what fanatic violence, personal revenge, or 
 public license might not be let loose, while 
 I was lingering among the costly vanities of 
 the Pagan 1 My enemy, at least, was there, in 
 the possession of unbridled authority and 
 the thought was in itself a history of evil. 
 
 “And where was Esther, my beloved, the 
 child of my soul, the glowing and magnifi- 
 cent-minded being, whose beauty and whose 
 thoughts were scarcely mortal 1 Might she 
 not be in the last extremity of suffering, help- 
 lessly calling on her wretched father to save 
 her; in the dungeon, withering .with cold 
 and famine, and upbraiding me for having 
 forgotten my child; or in the hands of the 
 robbers of the desert, and dragging her deli- 
 cate and sinking form through rocks and sands 
 at the mercy of savages; or dead, and have 
 died without a hand to succor, or a voice to 
 cheer her in her hour of agony 1” 
 
 Thought annihilates time, and I lay thus 
 sinking from depth to depth, I know not how 
 long ; till 1 was roused by the entrance of 
 the usual endless train of attendants with 
 lights; and the chief steward, a venerable 
 man of my country, whom Titus had gener- 
 ously continued in the office where he found 
 him, came to acquaint me that a new ban- 
 quet awaited my pleasure. The old man 
 wept at the sight of a chieftain of Israel in 
 captivity; his heart was full, and when I had 
 dismissed the attendants with their untasted 
 banquet, he gave way to his recollections. 
 
 The palace was once the dwelling of An- 
 anus the high-priest, whose death under the 
 cruelest circumstances was the leading cause 
 
 of the triumph of the factions, and the ruin 
 of Jerusalem. In the very chamber where 
 I sat he had spent the last day of his life; 
 and left it only to take charge of the Temple 
 on the fatal night of the assault by the Idu- 
 means. He was wise and vigorous ; but, 
 what is the wisdom of man 1 
 
 A storm, memorable in the annals of de- 
 vastation, raged during the night : Ananus, 
 convinced that all was safe from human hos- 
 tility in this ravage of the elements, suffered 
 the wearied citizens to retire from their posts. 
 The gates were opened by traitors ; the Idu- 
 nieans, furious for blood and spoil, rushed in; 
 the guard, surprised in their sleep or dis- 
 persed, were massacred ; and by daylight 
 eight thousand corpses lay on the sacred 
 pavements of the Temple ; and among them 
 the noblest and wisest man of Judea, An- 
 anus. 
 
 “ I found,” said the old man, “ the body 
 of my great and good lord under a heap of 
 dead, but was not suffered to convey it to the 
 tomb of his fathers in the valley of Jehosha- 
 pliat. I brought his sword and his phylactery 
 here, and they are now the only memorials 
 of the noblest line that perished since the 
 Maccabees. In these chambers I have re- 
 mained since, and in them it is my hope to 
 die. The palace is large ; the Roman sena- 
 tors and officers reside in another wing, 
 which 1 have not entered for years, and shall 
 never enter ; mild masters as the Romans 
 have been to me, I cannot bear to see them 
 masters within the walls of a chief of my 
 country.” 
 
 The story of Naomi occurred to me ; but 
 she was so much beyond the hope of my dis- 
 covery, that I forebore to renew the old man’s 
 griefs by her name. A sound of trumpets 
 and the trampling of cavalry was heard from 
 the portal. 
 
 j “ It is but the nightly changing of the 
 ' troops,” said the steward, “ or perhaps the 
 arrival of some officers from the camp: they 
 often ride here after nightfall to supper, 
 spend a few hours, and by day-break are gone. 
 But of them and their proceedings I know 
 nothing. No Jew enters, nor desires to enter, 
 the banquet-hall of the enemies of his coun- 
 try.” 
 
 A knocking at the door interrupted him, 
 and an officer appeared, with an order for the 
 prisoners in the palace to be removed into 
 strict confinement. The venerable steward 
 gave way to tears at the new offence to a 
 leader of his people. I felt some surprise; 
 but merely asked what new alarm had de- 
 manded this harsh measure. 
 
 “ 1 know no more,” replied the officer, 
 “ than the general has arrived here a few 
 minutes since ; and that, as some attempts 
 have been lately made on his life, the coun- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 181 
 
 cil have thought proper to put the Jewish 
 poniards as much out of his way as they can. 
 The order is universal ; and 1 am directed to 
 lead you to your apartment.” 
 
 “ Then, let them look to my escape,” said 
 I. “ I thank the council for this service. 
 While I continued above suspicion, they 
 might have thrown open every door in their 1 
 dungeons. But, since they thus degrade me, 
 you may tell them that their walls should be 
 high, and their bolts strong, to keep me their 
 prisoner. Lead on, sir.” 
 
 The council seemed to have been aware 
 of my opinions ; for my new chamber was in 
 one of the turrets; the customary place of 
 detention for prisoners supposed to be pecu- 
 liarly difficult to keep within bounds. The 
 lower floor being generally occupied by the 
 guard, there could be no undermining ; the 
 smallness of the building laid all the opera- 
 tions of the fugitive open to the sentinel's 
 eye ; and the height was of itself an obstacle 
 that, even if the bars were forced, might 
 daunt the adventurer. 
 
 The steward followed me to my den, 
 wringing his hands. Yet the little apartment 
 was not incommodious; there were some ob- 
 vious attempts at rendering it a fitter place 
 of habitation than usual ; and a more delicate 
 frame than mine might have found indul- 
 gence in its carpets and cushions. Even 
 my solitary hours were not forgotten, and 
 some handsome volumes from the governor’s 
 library occupied a corner. There was a lyre, 
 too, if t chose to sing my sorrows; and a 
 gilded chest of wine, if I chose to drink them 
 away. The height was an inconvenience 
 only to my escape ; but a lover of landscape 
 and fresh air would have envied me ; for I 
 had the range of the horizon, and the benefit 
 of every breeze from its four quarters. A 
 Chaldee would have chosen it for his com- 
 merce with the lights of heaven; for every! 
 star, from the gorgeous front of Aldebaran to 
 the minutest diamond spark of the sky, shone 
 there in its brightness. And a philosopher 
 would have rejoiced in the secluded comfort 
 of a spot, which, in the officer’s parting plea- 
 santry, was in the very sense, “so much 
 above the world.” 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 To me the prison and the palace were the 
 same. No believer in fate, and a strong be- 1 
 liever in the doctrine that, in the infinite ma- 
 jority of cases, the unlucky have to thank 
 only themselves ; feeling, too, that the manly 
 and the wise disdain to act by borrowed will 
 or wisdom ; I was yet irresistibly conscious 
 of my own stern exception. That there was 
 
 an influence hanging over me, I deeply 
 knew ; that I might as well strive with the 
 winds, was the fruit of my whole experience ; 
 and, with as much self-resolve in me as I 
 ever knew in man, and as lofty a calculation 
 of the wonders that human energy may work, 
 I abandoned myself on principle to the chances 
 of the hour. 1 was the weed upon the wave ; 
 and, whether above or below the surface, I 
 knew that the wave would roll on, and that 
 I must roll on along with it. 1 was the atom 
 in the air ; and, whether I should float unseen 
 for ever, or be brought into sight by the glid- 
 ing of some chance sun-beam across me, my 
 destiny was to float and quiver up and down. 
 — I was the vapor; and whether, like the 
 evening cloud, my after years were to evolve 
 into glorious shapes and colors, or I should 
 creep along the pools and valleys of fortune 
 till the end of time, — yet, there I was, still 
 in existence, and that existence bound by 
 laws incapable of the choices or caprices of 
 man. 
 
 I had yet to learn the true burden of my 
 great malediction : for the circumstances of 
 my life were yet adverse to its fated solitude 
 of soul ; its bitter conviction that there was 
 not a being under the canopy of heaven 
 whose heart was towards me ; its dull and 
 melancholy exile, in the midst of a world full 
 of activity, hope, and passion. I was still in 
 the very eddy of life, and battling it with the 
 boldest. My family survived : public cares, 
 personal interests, glowing attachments, the 
 whole vigorous activity of the citizen and the 
 soldier, were mine. I was still husband, fa- 
 ther, friend, champion of a great people ; my 
 task was difficult and grave, but it was ar- 
 dent, proud and animating. I was made for 
 this activity of the whole man ; master of a 
 powerful frame that defied fatigue, and was 
 proof against the sharpest visitations of na- 
 ture ; and of an intellect, which, whatever 
 might be its rank, rejoiced in tasking itself 
 with labors that appalled and perplexed the 
 multitude — in feeding and stimulating a per- 
 petual passion for the grand and the imagi- 
 native — in giving itself up to an ambition, a 
 devouring and inappeasable desire of doing 
 something, by which I should be rescued 
 from the common obscurity ; of planting in 
 the waste the seed of a name which should 
 spring up and flourish, and go on distending 
 in vigor and majesty, when the more preco- 
 cious fosterlings of the day were withered 
 in dust. 
 
 Idle as I knew the praise of man, and sov- 
 ereign as was my scorn for the meanness 
 which stoops to the vulgar purchase of popu- 
 larity, I felt and honored the true fame — that 
 renown, whose statue is devoted, not by the 
 suspicious and clamorous flattery of the time, 
 but by the solemn and voluntary homage of 
 
182 
 
 Salat hi el. 
 
 the future: whose, splendor, like that of a 
 new-born star, if it take ages to reach man- 
 kind, is sure to reach them at last, and shines 
 for ages after its fount is extinguished : whose 
 essential power, if it be coerced and obscured, 
 like that of a man while his earthly tenement 
 still shuts him in, is thenceforth to develope 
 itself from strength to strengh — the mortal j 
 putting on immortality. 
 
 In the whirl of such thoughts I was often 
 carried away, to the utter oblivion of my pe- 
 culiar fate : for man and his associations were 
 strong within me, in defiance of the com- 
 mand. The gloom often passed away from 
 my soul, as the darkness does from the mid- 
 night ocean in the dash and foam of its own 
 waters. Nature is perpetual ; and drives the 
 affections, sleeping or waking, as it drives 
 the blood through the old channels. It was 
 only at periods, produced by strong circum- 
 stances, that I felt the fetter; but then, the 
 iron entered into my soul ! 
 
 To this partial pressure belongs the singu- 
 lar combination of such a fate as mine with 
 an interest in the world, with my loves and 
 hates, my thirst of human fame, my reluc- 
 tance at the prospect of the common ill and 
 injuries of life. I was a man ; and this is 
 the whole solution of the problem. For one 
 remote evidence that I was distinct from 
 mankind, I had ten thousand direct and con- 
 stant, that I was the same. But, for the par- 
 tiality of the pressure, there was a lofty rea- 
 son. 
 
 The man who feels himself above the com- 
 mon fate, is instantly placed above the com- 
 mon defences of mankind. He may calum- 
 niate and ruin ; he may burn and plunder; 
 he may be the rebel and the murderer. Fear 
 is,, after all, the great security. But what 
 earthly power could intimidate him! What 
 were chains, or the scaffold, to him who felt 
 instinctively that time was not made for his 
 being ; that the scaffold was impotent ; that 
 he should yet trample on the grave of his 
 judge; on the mouldered throne of his king; 
 on the dead sovereignty of his nation 1 With 
 his impassiveness, his experience, his know- 
 ledge, and his passions, concocted and black- 
 ened by ages, what breast could be safe 
 against the dagger of this tremendous exile ; 
 what power be secure against the rebel 
 machination, or the open hostility of a being 
 invested with the strength of immortal evil ? 
 What was to binder a man made familiar 
 with every mode of influencing human pas- 
 sions — the sage, the sorcerer, fount of tradi- 
 tion, the friend 'of their worshipped ancestors 
 — from maddening the multitude at whose 
 head he willed to march, clothed in the attri- 
 butes of almost a divinity 1 
 
 But I was precluded, or saved, from this 
 fearful career, by the providential feeling of 
 
 the common repugnances, hopes, and fears 
 of human nature. Pain and disease were in- 
 stinctively as much shunned by me, as if I 
 held my life on the frailest tenure; death 
 was as formidable as my natural soldiership 
 would suffer it to be ; and, even when the 
 thought occurred that I might defy extinc- 
 tion, it threw but a darker shade over the 
 common terrors, to conceive that I must un- 
 dergo the suffering of death, without the 
 peace of the grave. Man bears his agony 
 for once and is done. Mind might be borne 
 to the bitterest extremity, but must be borne 
 with the keener bitterness of the knowledge 
 that it was in vain. 
 
 I was recalled from those reveries to the 
 world, by a paper dropped through a crevice 
 in the rafters above my head. On seeing 
 its signature, “Septimius,” my first impulse 
 was to tear it in pieces. But Esther’s name 
 struck me, and I read through the letter. 
 
 “ You must not think me a villain, though, 
 1 confess, appearances are much in favor of 
 the supposition. But, this morning I had no 
 choice between denying that I knew you, 
 and being utterly ruined. This comes of 
 discipline. Titus is a disciplinarian of the 
 first order ; and the consequence is, that no 
 man dares acknowledge any little irregularity 
 before him ; so far, his morality propagates 
 knaves. But I must clear myself of the 
 charge of having acted disingenuously by 
 your admirable daughter. I take every power 
 that binds the soul to witness, that 1 know 
 not what is become of her; nhy, I am in 
 the deepest anxiety to know the fate of one 
 so lovely, so innocent, and so high-minded. 
 
 “And now, prince, that I am out of the 
 reach of your frown, let me have courage to 
 disburden my heart. I have long known Es- 
 ther, and as long loved her. From the time 
 when I was first received within your palace 
 in Naphtali (and I have not forgotten, that 
 to your hospitality I then owed my life) I 
 was struck with her talents and her beauty. 
 When the war separated us and I returned 
 to Rome, neither in Rome nor in the empire, 
 could I see her equal. To solicit our union, 
 I gave up the honors and pleasures of the 
 court, for the campaign, in your hazardous 
 [country. I searched Judea in vain ; and it 
 was chiefly in the vague hope of obtaining 
 ;some intelligence of Esther, that I solicited 
 the command of our unfortunate mission. 
 There I felt all hazard more than repaid by 
 her sight, to me more lovelier than ever. 
 
 “ I will acknowledge that I prolonged my 
 confinement, to have the opportunity of ob- 
 taining her hand. But her religious scruples 
 were unconquerable. I implored her leave 
 to explain myself to you. Even this, too, she 
 refused, ‘ from her knowledge of your deci- 
 sion.’ What then, was I to do 1 Loving to 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 183 
 
 excess, bewildered by passion, oppressed with 
 disappointment, and seeing but one object on 
 earth, my evil genius prompted me to act the 
 dissembler. 
 
 “ Under pretext of disclosing some secrets 
 connected with -your safety, I induced her to 
 meet me, for the first and last time, on the 
 battlements. There I besought her to fly 
 with me — to be my bride — to enjoy the illus- 
 trious rank and life that belonged to the im- 
 perial blood ; and when we were once wed- 
 ded, to solicit the approval of her family. I 
 was sincere ; I take the gods to witness, 1 
 was sincere. But my entreaty was in vain ; 
 she repelled me with resolute scorn; she 
 charged me with treachery to you, to her, to 
 faith, and sacred hospitality. I knelt to her. 
 She spurned me. In distraction, and know- 
 ing only that to live without her was wretch- 
 edness, I was bearing her away to the gate, 
 when we were surrounded by armed men. 
 My single attendant fled : I was overpowered, 
 and forced to the gate; and I saw Esther, my 
 lovely and beloved Esther, no more.” 
 
 There was an honesty in this full confes- 
 sion, that did more for the writer’s cause than 
 subtler language. The young Roman had 
 been severely tried ; and who could expect 
 from a soldier the self-denial, that it might 
 have been hard to find under the grave brow 
 of philosophy! Stern as time and trial had 
 made me, I was not petrified into a contempt 
 of the generous weaknesses of earlier years ; 
 yet, to love a being like Esther — what was 
 it, but to be just! and while I honored the 
 high sense of duty which repelled a lover so 
 dangerous to a woman’s heart, I pitied and 
 forgave the violence of a passion, lighted by 
 unrivalled loveliness of form and mind. 
 
 It was growing late ; and the steward, 
 who made a virtue of showing me the more 
 respect the more I was treated with severity, 
 came in to arrange my couch for the night; 
 : “ he would suffer no inferior hands to ap- 
 proach the person of one of the leaders of his 
 fallen country. In truth,” added he, “if I 
 were not permitted to be your attendant to- 
 night, my prince might have been forgotten ; 
 for every human being but myself is busy in 
 the grand banquet gallery.” 
 
 Sounds of instruments and voices arose. 
 “There, you may hear the music. Titus 
 gives a supper, in honor of the Emperor’s 
 birth-day; and the palace will be kept awake 
 until day-light : for the Romans, with all 
 their philosophy, are great lovers of the table ; 
 and Titus is renowned for late sitting. Or 
 would you wish to see them at their ban- 
 quet!” So saying, he unbarred the shutters 
 of a casement, commanding a view along the 
 gallery; of which every door and window 
 was thrown open for the breeze. 
 
 If an ancient Roman could start from his 
 
 slumber into the midst of European life, he 
 must look with scorn on its absence of g*race, 
 elegance, and fancy. But it is in its festivi- 
 ties, and, most of all, in its banquets, that he 
 would feel the incurable barbarism of the 
 Gothic blood. Contrasted with the fine dis- 
 plays that made the table of the Roman noble 
 a picture, and threw over the indulgence of 
 appetite the colors of the imagination ; with 
 what eyes must he contemplate the tasteless 
 and common-place dress, the course attend- 
 ants, the meagre ornament, the want of mirth, 
 music, and intellectual interest — the whole 
 heavy machinery, that converts the feast into 
 the mere drudgery of devouring ! 
 
 The guests before me were fifty or sixty 
 splendidly dressed men, attended by a crowd 
 of domestics, attired with scarcely less splen- 
 dor ; for no man thought of coming to the 
 banquet in the robes of ordinary life. The 
 embroidered couch, itself a striking object, 
 allowed the ease of position, at once delight- 
 ful in the relaxing climates of the south, and 
 capable of combining with every grace of the 
 human figure. At a slight distance, the table, 
 loaded with plate glittering under the blaze 
 of a profusion of lamps, and surrounded by 
 couches thus covered with rich draperies, 
 was like a central source of light radiating 
 in broad shafts of every brilliant hue. All 
 that belonged to the ornament of the board 
 was superb. The wealth of the patricians, 
 and their perpetual intercourse with Greece, 
 made them masters of the finest performances 
 of the arts. The sums expended on plate 
 were enormous. But its taste and beauty 
 were essential to the refined enjoyment of 
 the banquet. Copies of the most famous sta- 
 tues and groups of sculpture in the precious 
 metals ; trophies of the victories of the Greek 
 and Roman ; models of the celebrated tem- 
 ples; were mingled with the vases of flowers 
 and lighted perfumes ; and covering and col- 
 oring all, was a vast scarlet canopy, which 
 combined the groups beneath the eye, and 
 threw the whole into a form that a painter 
 would love. 
 
 But the true skill was shown in the con- 
 stant prevention of that want of topic, which 
 turns conversation into weariness. There 
 was a perpetual succession of new objects 
 and excitements. Even the common changes 
 of the table were made to assist this purpose. 
 The coming in of each course was announced 
 by music, and the attendants were preceded 
 by a procession of minstrels dancing, chaplet- 
 crowned, and playing popular melodies. Be- 
 tween the courses, a higher entertainment 
 was offered in the recitations, pleasantries 
 read or acted by a class of professional satirists 
 of the absurdities of the day. 
 
 It is easy to imagine how fertile a source 
 of interest this must have been made by the 
 
184 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 subtle and splenetic Italian, moving through 
 Roman life, the most various, animating, and 
 fantastic scene, in which society ever shone. 
 The recitations were always looked to as the 
 charm of the feast. They were often severe 
 but their severity was reserved for public 
 men and matters. The court supplied the 
 most tempting and popular ridicule ; but the 
 reciter was a privileged person, and all the 
 better humored Ctesars bore the castigation 
 without a murmur. No man in the empire 
 was more laughed at than Vespasian, and no 
 man oftener joined in the laugh. One of his 
 morning sports was to collect the burlesques 
 of the night before, give them new pungency 
 by a touch of the imperial pen, and then de- 
 spatch them to make their way through the 
 world. The strong headed sovereign knew 
 the value of an organ of public opinion, and 
 used to call their perusal, “ sitting for his 
 picture.” The picture was sometimes so 
 strong, that the courtiers trembled. But the 
 veteran who had borne thirty years of battle, 
 laid it up among “ his portraits,” laughed the 
 insult away ; and repeated his popular say- 
 ing, “ that when he was old enough to come 
 to years of discretion, and give up the em- 
 peror, he should become reciter himself, and 
 have his turn with the world.” 
 
 The recitations again were varied, by a 
 sportive lottery, in which the guests drew 
 prizes; sometimes of value, gems and plate; 
 sometimes merely an epigram, or a caricature. 
 The banquet generally closed with a theatric 
 dance by the chief public performers of the 
 day ; and the finest forms and most delicate 
 arts of Greece and Iberia displayed — the 
 story of Theseus and Ariadne ; the flight of 
 Jason ; the fate of Semele, or some other of 
 the brilliant fictions of their poetry. In the 
 presence of this vivid scene, sat, tempering 
 its wildness by the majesty of religion, the 
 three great tutelar idols of Rome, Jove, Juno, 
 and Minerva, of colossal height, throned at 
 the head of the hall; completing, false as 
 they were, the most singular and dazzling 
 combination that man ever saw, of the de- 
 light of the senses with the delight of the 
 mind. 
 
 To me human joy was alway a source of 
 enjoyment; and in the sweet sounds of harps 
 and flutes, and the pleasant murmur of cheer- 
 ful voices, I was not unwilling to forget the 
 spot from which I listened. But the prisoner 
 cannot long forget his cell ; and closing the 1 
 casement I walked away. 
 
 “ Little I ever thought,” sighed the old 
 steward, “of seeing that sight. But all na- 
 tions have fallen in their time, and perhaps 
 the only wonder is, that Israel should have 
 stood so long. But it is still stranger to my 
 eyes to see that gallery as it is to night : 
 many a long year it has been shunned by 
 
 Jew and Roman alike : for the enemy give 
 way to dreams and the fear of apparitions be- 
 yond any other people; and the mighty 
 things done in the times of our fathers, and 
 which, though dishonored in the mouths of 
 the heathen, made their report known through 
 the earth, have made Judea a land of awe to 
 its evil conquerors. It is fifteen years this 
 very day, since I saw the light of lamp, or 
 the foot of man, within those casements.” 
 
 “ Yet,” said I, “the great Ananus lived as 
 became his rank; and there were then no 
 dangers to disturb him in the midst of his 
 people.” 
 
 “ But there was one terrible event, which 
 made those walls unhallowed; nay, even in 
 this spot where we stand, I would not remain 
 alone through the night, to have the palace 
 for my own.” 
 
 A rich and solemn strain of music that 
 ushered in some change in the displays of the 
 banquet, interrupted my question ; while the 
 old man’s countenance assumed something of 
 the alarm which he described. 
 
 “That sound,” said he, shuddering, “goes 
 to my heart. It is the same that I heard on 
 the night of death. On that night Matthan, 
 the only son of my great master, was to be 
 wedded to the daughter of the prince of He- 
 bron ; and that gallery was laid out for the 
 wedding feast; all the leaders of Jerusalem 
 were there, all the noble women, all the 
 chief priesthood ; all the grandeur, wealth, 
 and beauty of our tribe. But Matthan was 
 not the son of his father’s mind. He was 
 haughty, and the slave of passion ; he had 
 fled from his father’s roof years before, and 
 taken refuge among the mountains. The 
 caravan passing through Galilee dreaded the 
 name of Matthan, for he was bold; the chief 
 of the hills saw his followers flying from his 
 side, for deadly was the spear of Matthan ; but 
 he was generous, and often the slave rejoiced 
 in the breaking of his chains, and the peasant 
 saw his flocks cover the valley again, by the 
 arm and the bounty of Matthan. 
 
 “ When he returned, danger or sorrow had 
 wrought a change in him like the passing 
 from youth to age. His strength was with 
 ered, and his voice was broken down, like 
 the voice of him that treads on the brink of 
 the timely grave. 
 
 “ His noble father wept over him and gave 
 him welcome, and the palace was filled with 
 rejoicing for the coming back of the first- 
 born. But he took no delight in the feast, 
 neither in the praises of men, nor in the voice 
 of the singer. He wandered through his 
 father’s halls, even as the leopard, chained, 
 and longing to escape to the desert and the 
 prey again. 
 
 “Disturbances were beginning to be heard 
 in Jerusalem ; and he fell into the hands of 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 185 
 
 the evil : Onias, the man of blood, betrayed 
 him into the secret ways of conspiracy 
 against our conquerors. His heart was bold, 
 and his temper high; and he was easily 
 drawn into the desperate game, by a villain, 
 who stirred up the generous spirit of our no- 
 bles, only to sell their blood to Rome. 
 
 “He grew more lonely and violent day by 
 day ; he withdrew from the amusement of 
 his rank, and shut himself up in the wing of 
 the palace ending in this tower. In this 
 room, where we are sitting, I have seen his 
 lamp burning through the livelong winter 
 nights ; and grieved over the sleeplessness 
 that showed he was among the unhappy. Into 
 his chamber none were suffered to enter but 
 the mountaineers alone, who had followed 
 him in his wandering life, and whose speech 
 none else could understand. 
 
 “ I little dreamed what inhabitants were 
 then in this cell. At last a change was 
 wrought upon him ; he went forth ; he took 
 delight in the horse and chariot, in the chase, 
 and the feast, and the die. He plunged into 
 public life with the eagerness of one thirst- 
 ing and hungering for the applause of men. 
 He harangued, he gave magnificent gifts, he 
 filled up every hour with the labor of mind 
 or body, like one to whom an hour of rest 
 would be a blot in his existence. His illus- 
 trious father, that he might bless his pros- 
 perity before he died, counselled him to take 
 to wife Thamer, the fairest and noblest of 
 the daughters of Hebron. The offer of the 
 alliance ofMatthan was heard with joy; and 
 the day of the marriage was appointed. 
 
 “ On that day I saw him come from the 
 council-hall, after receiving the congratula- 
 tions of his friends. I saw him passing along 
 to his chamber; but I dared not cross him on 
 his way ; I fled and hid myself behind the 
 portal, even from the wrath of his counte- 
 nance. He thought that he was alone ; and 
 then he gave way to his agony. Never did 
 I behold such a countenance of wrath and 
 woe. It was bloated with prodigal living, 
 and it was now flushed with wine, swallowed 
 to drown thought ; but misery was branded 
 there. 
 
 “ He raved, he rent his bridal raiment, and 
 cast it from him; he wept; he knelt and 
 cursed the hour that he was born ; he flung 
 himself upon the ground, and rolled in a con- 
 vulsion of rage and woe. At the least sound 
 he would spring up, and, drawing his scime- 
 tar, swear to put the intruder to death. I re- 
 mained in my refuge; yet more in fear of his 
 countenance than of his sword. He took let- 
 ters from his bosom, read them, and then 
 scattering their fragments in the air, devoted 
 himself to ruin, devoted his line, Judea, the 
 world. 
 
 “ He tottered before me ; and I dreaded 
 
 his rage at the discovery ; but I saw at a 
 glance, that his mind was gone. He was 
 talking to the air; he clasped his hands wild- 
 ly, his face was covered with tears ; he im- 
 plored for mercy, and fell. I hastened to 
 bear him to the couch ; he saw me not; but 
 cried out against himself, as a betrayer and a 
 murderer, the feeble slave of others’ will, the 
 guilty fugitive from honor, the criminal mark- 
 ed by the hand of Heaven. 
 
 “I called for help. His mountaineers 
 rushed in ; they repulsed me ; and, chiding 
 him in their barbarian tongue, and seeming 
 accustomed to those fits of sorrow, carried 
 away in their arms the noble Mattban, com- 
 plaining and crying like a child. 
 
 “The evening fell, and I saw him ride 
 forth at the head of his kindred to bring home 
 the bride. The wretchedness of the day 
 was past ; and those who looked only on the 
 lofty bearing, and heard the joyous language 
 of the leader of that train, would have thought 
 that sorrow had never touched his heart. I 
 watched for his return with fear and anx- 
 iety ; for I deemed his joy unhallowed and 
 fearful. 
 
 “ But all was well; the bridal procession 
 returned. Matthan, glittering in jewels, 
 came, proudly reining his steed, white as the 
 snow ; the sound of harp and trumpet — the 
 chorus of singers — the gay light of torches — 
 and the beauty of the youths and maidens 
 who danced, and threw their crowns of flow- 
 ers before the bride, made me forget every 
 thing but the delight of seeing peace and 
 prosperity come among us once more. 
 
 “ When the bride and her female com- 
 panions entered the hall reserved for them 
 to prepare for the nuptial banquet, I followed 
 my great master into the gallery. The bride- 
 groom and a multitude of his friends were 
 there already ; and never was crowd more 
 joyous. But the wonder and the life of all 
 was the bridegroom himself. Loud as they 
 were, his voice was the loudest ; he laughed 
 at every thing, as if he had never known a 
 care in the world, or was never to know one 
 again. The jest was never out of his lips; 
 and w'hen he pledged the cup to the health 
 of the company or the fair bride, and often he 
 pledged it that evening, he always said some- 
 thing that raised shouts of applause. I once 
 or twice passed near him, but he had wiped 
 every sign of grief from his features ; and if 
 he seemed to be mad with any thing, it was 
 with joy. The gallery rang with admiration, 
 and not less with surprise; for he had shut 
 himself up so long from the people, that he 
 was almost unknown; and the world is gen- 
 erally good«natured enough to invent a char- 
 acter for those who will take no trouble to 
 make one for themselves. Some had set him 
 down for intolerable haughtiness ; others, for 
 
186 
 
 Scilathiel. 
 
 fear of mixing in the growing tumults ; others, 
 for a dealer in the black art; and others, 
 for a mere fool. But now opinions were 
 altered at once, and every voice of his tribe 
 was loud in wonder at the talents he had so 
 long hid in retirement. The old rejoiced to 
 see the vigor and ability of Ananus renewed ; 
 the warriors and nobles still active in the pub- 
 lic affairs, foreseeing the struggles that were 
 to come, looked proudly to this newiy discov- 
 ered champion of their country ; and the 
 young, struck by his bold sentiments, were 
 ready to fall down in homage to their future 
 prince and leader. 
 
 “I was standing in the train of the high- 
 priest, near the central casement, through 
 which you may now see the throne of Titus. 
 My eyes, I know not why, strayed to this 
 tower ; I marked a lamp quivering, and a 
 form rushed backwards and forwards in ges- 
 tures of violent sorrow. A foot beside me 
 made me turn. There stood Matthan with 
 his eyes fixed upon the tower. But his gaiety 
 was gone. His countenance was wild and 
 yet cold. He looked like a man stricken to 
 otone in the midst of some fierce burst of pas- 
 sion. He saw me not ; he saw not the guests ; 
 he saw nothing but the dying lamp, and the 
 hurrying form. 
 
 “ The chorus of singing women announced 
 that the bride was about to enter. 
 
 “ I looked up at the tower ; the lamp was 
 twinkling its last; and the form was still 
 seen wringing its hands. The bridal prepa- 
 rations went on, and the hymn was heard 
 that denotes the veiling of the bride. But 
 my eyes Were fixed on the dying light, and 
 the form that now held a cup in its hand. A 
 shriek was heard, so wild, that the guests 
 sprang from their seats in alarm and astonish- 
 ment. My eye turned upon Matthan, but he 
 had summoned up his strength, and, though 
 I saw him shake in every limb, his proud lip 
 wore a smile. 
 
 “ Yet even that was gone, as, with a start, 
 and clasping his hand upon his brow, he ab- 
 ruptly turned from the window, and in a 
 loud and angry tone demanded, why the bridal 
 attendants delayed the coming of the princess 
 of Hebron. The lamp had disappeared, and 
 the tower was in darkness again. The at- 
 tendants hastened — the portals were thrown 
 open, and the bride, in grace and majesty 
 that drew all eyes, was led up to the canopy 
 beneath where the bridegroom stood. He 
 raised the veil. His countenance was in- 
 stantly transformed into blank horror. He 
 uttered no voice; but stood gazing. The 
 bride let fall the veil again, and taking his 
 hand, led him slowly, and without a word, 
 down the hall. 
 
 “None checked this strange ceremony; 
 none dared to check it. We were deprived 
 
 of all power by astonishment. The high- 
 priest himself stood with his venerable hands 
 lifted up to heaven, as if he felt that evil was 
 come upon his house. The wedded pair 
 walked in silence through the long range of 
 chambers to the tower; and as they passed, 
 the numberless attendants felt themselves 
 bound by the same mysterious awe. But our 
 senses at length returned, and Ananus, in 
 the full dread of his misfortune, yet bold to 
 his dying hour, suffered none to go before 
 him. We found the door of the tower barred, 
 and long summoned Matthan to come forth, 
 and relieve our fears lest some desperate in- 
 vention of sorcery and conspiracy had been 
 played upon him. No answer was returned, 
 and we forced the door. 
 
 “ What a sight was there ! Two corpses 
 lay, side by side. The blood still trickled 
 from the bosom of the unfortunate Matthan. 
 I raised the veil ; the hue of poison was upon 
 the lips; but they were not the lips of the 
 princess of Hebron. The countenance was 
 Arabian, and of exceeding beauty, but wan 
 and wasted by sorrow. 
 
 “ A new confusion arose. The mountain- 
 eers, on hearing of d.e death of their lord, 
 and still more of that noble creature in whom 
 they honored the race of their chieftains, de- 
 manded vengeance : they were too fierce to 
 listen to reason, and our attempts to explain 
 the unhappy truth only kindled their rage. 
 Scimetars were drawn, blood was shed ; and 
 though the barbarians were repelled, yet they 
 plundered the wing of the palace, and bore 
 off the infant offspring of their dead mistress; 
 the last scion of an illustrious tree, that w y as 
 itself so soon to feel the axe. 
 
 Vl’he princess of Hebron was found alone, 
 swooning at the tumult of the palace. I saw 
 the unfortunate and guilty Matthan laid in 
 the sepulchre of his fathers — the last that 
 ever slept there ; for his great sire, worthy 
 of being laid in the monument of kings, was 
 denied the honors of the grave by his mur- 
 derers. Yet he sleeps in the nohlest of all 
 graves; his memory is treasured in the love 
 and sorrows of his country. 
 
 “ It was discovered that Matthan, during 
 his wanderings in the desert, had wedded 
 the daughter of a sheik ; a generous and high- 
 minded creature, who more than once saved 
 him from being undone by his own reckless- 
 ness. He loved her with the violence of his 
 nature ; but the prospect w'hich his rank and 
 talents opened to him on his return to his 
 country, made him shrink from the acknow- 
 ledgement of the alliance of his wilder days. 
 Yet to live without her he found impossible, 
 and he brought her to the tower. Surround- 
 ed by his mountaineers, this portion of the 
 palace was inaccessible ; and his solitude, 
 and the lights seen through the casements, 
 
Salat hiel. 
 
 187 
 
 were often thought to imply studies of the 
 strange philosophy, or evil superstitions, that 
 had begun to infect the noble youth of Pales- 
 tine. 
 
 “ But the necessity of sustaining his ambi- 
 tion by an illustrious marriage drove his fickle 
 heart at last to treachery. The Arabian 
 knew it, and disdaining to reproach the trai-j 
 tor, pined away before his eyes. Remorse 
 and ambition alternately distracted him ; he 
 loved, and yet was forced along by the neces- 
 sity that vice makes for itself. The bridal, 
 procession was seen by the unhappy prisoner, 
 and she swallowed poison. The rest is be- j 
 yond my power to account for. But it is ru- 
 mored among the attendants that strange, 
 sights have been seen, and sounds of a bridal j 
 throng heard in the chambers through which , 
 their last melancholy march was made ; 
 though, whether it be truth, or the common 
 fear of the vulgar, I know not, nor indeed 
 wish too curiously to inquire.” 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 * 
 
 As the old man spoke, sounds arose not 
 unsuited to his tale. But my faith in the le- 
 gend did not amount to so sudden a realiza- 
 tion, and I looked towards the gallery. There, 
 from whatever motive, every thing was in 
 disturbance. The guests were hurrying from 
 the tables. Many had thrown the military 
 cloak over their festal robes : some were in 
 the adjoining apartments equipping them- 
 selves with arms and armor. A group were 
 standing round Titus, evidently in anxious 
 consultation. In the spacious grounds below, 
 horsemen were mounting, and attendants 
 hurrying in all directions. The calls of the 
 clarion and trumpet echoed through the 
 courts: shortly after, a large body of cavalry 
 came wheeling round to the portal of the 
 gardens ; and Titus went forth, conspicuous 
 among the bustling crowd for his manly com- 
 posure. He gave some orders, which were 
 despatched by tribunes galloping as for their 
 lives; then, mounting his charger, rode slow- 
 ly through the gates at the head of his state- 
 ly company, himself the most stately of them 
 all. 
 
 The woods surrounding the palace soon 
 intercepted the view of the imperial troop ; 
 and after straining my eyes as long as I could 
 see the glitter of a helmet by the feeble moon, 
 and exhausting my old companion’s under- 
 standing in conjectures of the cause of this 
 rapid change, I turned to my casement, to 
 make that prayer for the peace of Jerusalem 
 which had been nightly on my lips from the 
 hour when they first could pray ; and which 
 no danger, nor sorrow, nor disgust at man- 
 
 13 
 
 kind, nor the bitterest despair, has ever si- 
 lenced during ages. From the dungeon has 
 that supplication risen ; from the mine ; from 
 the arid sands of the wilderness; from the 
 savage shores of the farthest ocean ; from 
 the bosom of the rolling waters ; from the 
 fires of the persecutor ; from the field before 
 the battle ; from the field covered with its 
 dead ; from the living grave of the monk ; 
 from the cavern of the robber ; from the pal- 
 ace ; from the scaffold ! 
 
 While I continued in this outpouring of 
 the soul, with my eyes fixed on the cloudy 
 throne of Him, whom no man hath seen or 
 can see ! the morn seemed to be advancing 
 on the sky : a pale reflection spread over the 
 masses of rolling vapor; it lingered, faded, 
 grew richer, again sank, and night covered 
 the earth ; again swelled, and a fierce lustre 
 turned the low and heavy clouds to the color 
 of conflagration. 
 
 “ There is an attack on either the enemy’s 
 camp or the city,” I exclaimed to my com- 
 panion, who was already dropping into slum- 
 ber on his cushion. “ Daybreak it cannot be, 
 for the middle watch has not been half an 
 hour sounded. Help me to escape; be but 
 my guide through the chambers, and name 
 your recompense.” 
 
 The steward wrung his helpless hands, 
 and offered his life to my service ; but de- 
 scribed the precautions of my jailers so fully, 
 that I gave up the idea of immediate escape; 
 and, after gazing at the sky until it became 
 a sheet of darkness once more bade him 
 good night, and flung myself down, to seek 
 such rest as I could find upon my pillow. 
 
 But I was tossed by anxious thoughts, and 
 sleep was a tardy visitant. I heard the tread- 
 ing of the guard till its recurrence irritated 
 me. The moanings of the wind through the 
 trees told me that a storm was rising ; and 
 to get rid of the uneasy conflict between the 
 desire of sleep and the difficulty of shutting 
 out thought, I rose, and watched the progress 
 of the tempest. 
 
 The lightnings flashed in broad beams 
 through the clouds, and the rain fell with 
 the violence of the southern storm. But, 
 through the flash, powerful and deepening 
 again shone the red illumination above the 
 city ; and neither the roar of the wind, nor 
 the dash of the descending deluge could ex- 
 tinguish the shouts that, remote as they were, 
 I knew to be shouts of battle. 
 
 I measured the tower with my eyes; I 
 tried the strength of the bars ; but the at- 
 tempt only served to disturb my companion, 
 who had survived his sorrows long enough 
 to sleep as soundly as if there were not a 
 woe on earth. When I used some of the 
 common-places of regret for the disturbance, 
 (t I am glad,” said he, “ that you awoke me ; 
 
188 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 for I was dreaming the story of my unfortu- 
 nate lord and his son over again.” 
 
 “ The natural result of your having so late- 
 ly renewed its recollection, and of this having 
 been the time of the catastrophe.” j 
 
 “ Aye, the time is much, for every soul in 
 the palace has had the story told to him to- 
 day: the old retainers, who remember and 
 weep over the days of their great master, are 
 full of it. There is perhaps scarcely a room 
 under this roof where some heart is not trem- 
 bling to-night with ghostly fear; nor a pea- 
 sant’s thatch, where the death of Matthan 
 and the Arabian has not made pale faces ; 
 nor a sentinel for miles round, who does not 
 shiver at every falling leaf, and think of the 
 shriek, the avenging spirit, and the bride-' 
 groom stricken in his hour of pride. But — 
 Powers of Heaven protect us ! look there !” j 
 
 I looked ; but it was to the old man, whose 
 countenance alarmed me with the idea that 
 he had wrought his imagination to a hazard- 
 ous extreme. I took his cold hand ; and tell- 
 ing him that I felt myself unable to sleep, 
 and should have the less merit in watching, 
 till morn, gently laid his stiffened limbs on ] 
 the couch, and bade him try to rest. He lay , 
 as unresisting, yet fixed, as if he had been 
 turned to ice. But the eye stared through 
 the casement, till I followed its direction, yet 
 with only the added belief that he was over- 
 come by the common terrors of the house- 
 hold ; for to me tenfold darkness lay upon 
 every object from the ground to the battle- 
 ments. 
 
 The departing officers and attendants kept 
 the palace in tumult ; but more than common 
 urgency quickened them ; and the last group, 
 and the last sound of voices, soon passed 
 away, leaving the silence, like the darkness, 
 deeper than ever. 
 
 I accidently turned to the casement, and 
 there — I saw a figure slight and shadowy, 
 passing backward and forward in front of a 
 quivering lamp ! My surprise was more 
 startling than I would venture to communi- 
 cate to my companion, already almost par- 
 alysed with fear. But if I had conjured up a 
 phantom to give force to the tale, none could 
 have been more closely similar. 
 
 The figure was enveloped in robes whose 
 richness I could perceive even across the 
 court; the gestures, the wild hurry of the 
 pacings through the chamber, the general air 
 of woe and distraction, were not to be mis- 
 taken. In the midst of the silence I heard 
 the creaking of bolts and the fall of chains, 
 that seemed to be at my side. A single word 
 followed ; but that word terribly comprehen- 
 sive : — “ Death !” The sound was uttered 
 
 in a hollow and sepulchral tone, that left the 
 imagination free to shape the picture with 
 what sullenness it willed. But the sound 
 
 was scarcely uttered when I heard a shriek, 
 wild as ever told of woe ; saw the figure sink 
 down, and the lamp quiver, and expire ! 
 
 The old man had seen what I had seen ; 
 but the natural feebleness of age left him a 
 more helpless prey to superstitious fear ; and 
 no attempt to explain these singular coinci- 
 dences could calm him. He was convinced 
 that the vengeance which had stricken his 
 master’s house was still abroad ; and that he 
 had beheld its minister. Remonstrance was 
 in vain; and he sank alternately into the 
 reveries and the stupefaction of spiritual ter- 
 ror. 
 
 I tended him with the more interest, from 
 my being not altogether unimpressed with 
 the possibility that his alarms were just. I 
 was no believer in the vulgar narratives of 
 superstition. But nature has its mysteries : 
 truth or judgment might be commissioned 
 from sources strange to human perceptions. 
 To give way to the workings of a sickly im- 
 agination, may characterize the vulgar, the 
 idle, and the weak; but to admit the power 
 of Heaven to suspend its own laws for its 
 own purposes, is among the soundest conclu- 
 sions of the pious and the wise. j 
 
 While I sat beside the couch, and watchea 
 the ebbs and flows of life, in a frame that I 
 sometimes expected to see give way utterly, 
 a jarring of bolts again struck my ear. I lis- 
 tened with a strange emotion. But the sound 
 soon ceased, and I was firm again. The old 
 man had heard it, and in a new convulsion 
 grasped both my hands, and held me close. 
 The sound returned ; it increased ; I saw the 
 wall of the tower open, and the figure stand 
 before me. “ It is she, it is she,” shudder- 
 ingly murmured my companion, fixing his 
 eyes on it, and holding me with a clasp of 
 agony. The heart beat quick within me. 
 But 1 interposed myself between the corpse- 
 like being whom I held in my arms, and the 
 unearthly visitant; and demanded “ for what 
 purpose it had come.” The figure started as 
 I spoke ; then, gazing intently on me as I 
 turned to the light, threw up its veil, and fell 
 at my feet. The lovely Naomi was the spec- 
 tre ! But perfectly guiltless was the gentle 
 girl of the ghostly potency of her presence, 
 and the unfil ial alarm unto which she had 
 thrown her adopted father; whom she was 
 delighted to find, but whom she candidly ac- 
 knowledged, “ she never dreamed of finding 
 there.” 
 
 “ The tower contains a prisoner,” said she, 
 tremblingly, “ who must be saved this night; 
 for to-morrow at day-break is his dreadful 
 hour. 1 knew that he would be condemned ; 
 and we agreed on a signal by which I was 
 to learn when the time was fixed. I have 
 watched all night for it, and almost betrayed 
 myself by a cry of horror that I could not sup- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 189 
 
 press at the sight of that signal just now. I ! 
 had no resource but to bear my own message, 
 and assist him myself in escaping from this 
 place of tyranny and sorrow.” 
 
 “ But my child, who is the prisoner, or 
 where!” 
 
 She blushed, and said, “ One who saved 
 me when the world was against me. He 
 rescued me from the hands of the barbarians ; 
 and could 1 leave him to perish 1” 
 
 “ Lead on, then, and without delay ; for the 
 daybreak is not far. But how shall we find 
 our way to his dungeon 1” 
 
 “ I paid high,” said she, “ for my know- 
 ledge of this tower ; and it has no conceal- 
 ments from me ; remove this bar.” 
 
 I drew out a slender iron rod ; some of the 
 large stones of the wall gave way, and dis- 
 closed a winding stair in the depth of the 
 wall by which we descended. We found the 
 prisoner writing, and so much occupied, that 
 our light footsteps did not interrupt him. 
 
 “There,” soliloquized he, as he ran his 
 eye down the epistle; “I think, my masters, 
 if not the better, some of you will be the 
 wiser for my labors. Home truths are the 
 truths after all. Titus will learn what a set 
 of incurable reprobates he has about him ; 
 and by this time to-morrow, when I shall care 
 as little for mankind as mankind ever cared 
 for me, I shall do the state service; from my | 
 gibbet turn reformer, and make the scaffold 
 popular. And now farewell to my lady and 
 my love.” 
 
 He sighed and threw down the pen. “ No, 
 my sweet Naomi, I can say nothing half so 
 fond, or half so bitter, as my feelings at this 
 moment. Would that I had never seen you, 
 if we are to part so soon. Yet, why should 
 I regret to have known innocence, beauty, 
 and truth, in their perfection ! No, my love, 
 rosy was the hour when I first saw you, and 
 proud is even the parting hour that tells me! 
 I could have loved so noble a being. But all 
 is better as it is. How could I have borne 
 to see you following the fortunes of a wan- 
 derer, of a man without a country or a name 1 
 Then, farewell, my Naomi; dearest, fare- 
 well ; you were the gleam of sunshine in my 
 cloudy day, the star in my dreary night : and 
 while my heart beats, you shall be there. 
 Your name shall be the last upon my lips: 
 and if there be thought beyond the grave, 
 you shall be remembered and — oh, how deep- 
 ly — loved !” 
 
 I had been on the point of disturbing his 
 meditation ; but Naomi, with the fine avarice 
 of passion, would not lose a syllable. She 
 held me back, and implored me by her coun- 
 tenance to let her have the full confession of 
 her lover’s faith. That beautiful countenance 
 ran through all the shades of feeling, and 
 was covered with blushes and tears, while 
 
 the unconscious worshipper poured out his 
 devotion. But the time was flying; I in- 
 sisted on interrupting this epicurism of the 
 soul ; and when Naomi found that she must 
 feast no more, she would allow none but her- 
 self the pleasure of the surprise. 
 
 A sigh which swelled from the prisoner’s 
 heart was echoed. He turned suddenly, and 
 pronounced her name with a loudness of de- 
 light, that nothing but the chance that pro- 
 tects the imprudent, could have prevented 
 from bringing the guard upon us. His quick 
 eye soon caught me, where I stood in sha- 
 dow ; and he sprang forward to extinguish 
 the intruder. But the lamp saved us from 
 the encounter; and, lifting his hands and 
 eyes in amazement, he laughed as loudly as 
 he had spoken. 
 
 “ In the name of all the wonders of the 
 w'orld,” exclaimed he, “are you here, tool 
 Where are we to meet next! We have met 
 already in water, fire, and earth ; and nothing 
 is left for us now but the clouds. Come, be 
 honest, prince, and tell me whether it was 
 not for the sake of some such experiment that 
 you ventured here ; for, between ourselves, 
 if another hour finds us within these four 
 walls, we shall know the grand secret as as- 
 suredly as Titus wears a head, and has a 
 scoundrel at his elbow.” 
 
 I was rejoiced to find that in attempting to 
 save the life of Naomi’s lover, I was dis- 
 charging a debt to the preserver of’my own. 
 To my mention of this service, he replied 
 with soldier-like frankness, that, “I owed 
 him no obligation whatever ; he had long 
 hated the intolerable insolence and cruelty 
 of Cestius, and the debt was on his side, as I 
 had favored him with an opportunity that 
 every officer in the service would have been 
 happy to possess. His chastisement would 
 do him good, as well as the rest of the world ; 
 and thus, in fact, I might look upon myself 
 as a benefactor to the human race.” 
 
 Naomi hung upon me, pale and anxiously 
 listening to every sound abroad. “ This little 
 trembler,” said he, sportively, as he took her 
 passive hand, “ I am destined to meet always 
 in alarm. I first found her flying from a 
 troop of human brutes, who were robbing the 
 baggage of the Roman camp; I thought her 
 worth something better than to keep goata 
 on the Libanus, and weave turbans for some 
 Syrian deserter; she was of the same opinion, 
 and fell in love with me on the spot.” Na- 
 omi exclaimed against this version of the 
 story. 
 
 “ No matter for the mode,” said he, “ I 
 give the facts. I dazzled her ambition by 
 the promise of a palace, — in the air; bribed 
 j her avarice by the display of a purse, uncon- 
 scious of gold ; and bewitched her senses by 
 a speech, a smile, and a figure, that for the 
 
190 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 first time in my life I found to be irresisti- 
 ble.” 
 
 Naomi again protested; and the dialogue 
 might have consumed the night without their 
 discovering the lapse of time, had I not in- 
 terposed, and inquired what farther means 
 of escape were in our power. The lovely 
 girl started from her waking dream, and 
 pointed to a ring in the wall, which was con- 
 nected with a concealed door. I tried it, but 
 it resisted my force. At length we all 
 strove at it together. But no door opened. 
 
 Naomi wrung her hands. “ The unfortu- 
 nate lord of this tower, in former times,” said 
 she, and the tear stood in her eye, “ always 
 predicted that it would be fatal to his family. 
 To escape his own fate, he pierced its walls 
 with passages in every direction; but they 
 did not save my noble, my unfortunate father.” 
 She sat down weeping ; while I tore at the 
 ring, which finally broke off in my hands. 
 The lover stood with folded arms, gazing in 
 sad delight on the beautiful being from whom 
 he was so soon to part for ever ; and whose 
 face and form wore almost the shadowy love- 
 liness of a vision. 
 
 The chance of their escape devolved on 
 me solely ; for neither would have desired to 
 disturb that strange and melancholy luxury 
 of contemplation. But, as the concealed door 
 must be given up, the only resource was to 
 return to my cell, and thence make our way 
 through the passage by which Naomi had ar- 
 rived. A glance from the casement showed 
 me the courts filled with soldiery, and lights 
 moving through her chamber. This hope 
 was gone. 
 
 In the deepest doubt and fear, I ventured 
 up through the tower to discover whether 
 my cell was not already in possession of the 
 guard. I pushed back the door noiselessly ; 
 the cell was empty, even the old steward 
 was gone. Imagination is a dangerous aux- 
 iliary in such a crisis ; and it created out of 
 this trivial change a host of alarms. He 
 must have fled to give notice of my retreat; 
 or to rouse the vigilance of the soldiery by 
 the story of the wonders that he had seen. 
 Escape was hopeless. I even heard a con- 
 fused whispering, which “proved that we 
 had fallen into the snare.” 
 
 There was no alternative but to be seized 
 and die ; or to make a bold rush for life, and 
 take our chance. I returned, carried the 
 
 fainting Naomi up the stairs; and suppress- 
 ing the infinite risk of the attempt to pene- 
 trate through a building in which nearly the 
 entire of its inmates were still awake and 
 busy, and which was guarded by the vigilance 
 of Roman patrols, I advised that we should do 
 any thing rather than remain where we were. 
 She was tirnid and submissive; but to my 
 surprise, her lover, whom I had known the 
 
 very soul of daring, and who met danger 
 with a jovial scorn — the bold seaman, the 
 haughty leader of men harder to be ruled 
 than the elements, the gallant despiser of 
 death but a day past, in the cause of a mere 
 stranger — was now totally unnerved. The 
 novelty of passion absorbed the heroic spirit 
 of the youth; he lingered near his mistress, 
 and gazed on her with an intenseness that 
 told his world was there. To my questions 
 he gave no answer; but obeyed, without a 
 word or a glance turned from the exquisite 
 countenance that sank and blushed under 
 his gaze. If the actual power of enchant- 
 ment had been wrought upon him, he could 
 not have been more fixed, helpless, and 
 charmed. 
 
 I heard a groan of pain, and thought of 
 the ancient follower of the house of Ananus. 
 My cooler judgment had acquitted him of be- 
 traying me into the enemy’s hands. A part 
 of the cell was filled up with the remnants 
 of a canopy removed from the statelier apart- 
 ments. The groan came from behind them. 
 I drew them away, and saw a door open by 
 which he must have left the tower. I went 
 forward a few steps; hope throbbed in me. 
 I returned, desired the captain and Naomi to 
 follow, wrapped myself in a cloak, and sword 
 in hand led the way through the darkness. 
 I had not gone far, when I found myself tread- 
 ing on a human body. I sprang back; but 
 the figure, more startled than I, rolled down 
 a succession of steps before me, and falling 
 against a door burst it open. A strong light 
 from within flashed up the stairs; and taking 
 Naomi’s hand, I led her down this steep and 
 narrow outlet of the grand gallery. As she 
 came towards the light, a wild cry was given ; 
 the man, whom I now perceived to be the 
 steward, rose on his feet, and, exclaiming “ It 
 is she, risen from the grave, the Arabian !” 
 rushed through the vast hall, in which were 
 still a number of domestics setting it in order 
 after the banquet. Every eye was turned to 
 the spot from which we emerged. Naomi’s 
 white-robed form, followed by her lover’s and 
 mine, wrapped to the brow in our dark man- 
 tles, formidably verified the superstition. The 
 crowd were already prepared to witness a 
 wonder on this night of woe, they fled or fell 
 on their faces ; the steward still rushing on, 
 propagated terror before us ; and through 
 the long vista of lighted chambers, where to 
 be seen might have been ruin, we moved, un- 
 questioned, until we saw the portal. It, too, 
 had been thrown open by some of the fugi- 
 tives : the gardens were deserted ; the troops 
 had been drawn by the search in Naomi’s 
 chamber to another quarter of the palace. 
 Before us was welcome solitude; and we 
 were soon traversing the wood-paths by the 
 Might of the stars. 
 
 
SalathieJ. 
 
 191 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 While we traversed the grounds, the 
 heaving of the branches under the wind, 
 which rose in strong gusts from time to time, 
 and the rush of the rivulets from the hill- 
 sides, which retained the swell of the melting 
 snows, prevented our hearing other sounds. 
 But when we emerged from this little forest 
 of every plant that yields fruit or fragrance, 
 and began to climb the surrounding ridge, 
 the sights and sounds to which I had been so 
 long 'accustomed broke upon us. To the 
 south a long line of light showed where Jeru- 
 salem was struggling against a midnight as- 
 sault ; and the uproar of battle came melan- 
 choly upon the wind. The Roman camp- 
 fires blazed round the promontory Scopas, 
 like the innumerable crevices of some huge 
 volcanic hill breathing flame from root to 
 summit. 
 
 But a more immediate peril lay in the 
 route behind us. The first height from 
 which we could see the palace, showed us 
 the well known fire-signals of the enemy 
 flaming on its battlements. Our escape had 
 of course been discovered. The signals were 
 answered from every point of the horizon. 
 Where a signal was, there was an enemy’s 
 post : we could not advance a step without 
 the most imminent hazard of seizure ; and, 
 in those times, death by the shaft or sword 
 was the instant consequence. 
 
 The signals were followed by the trumpet; 
 and every blast from the palace-roof was an- 
 swered for miles round. The whole horizon 
 was alive with enemies ; and yet, if in every 
 call captivity and death had not been the 
 language, this circling echo of the noblest 
 of all instruments of sound, coming in a thou- 
 sand various tones from the varied distances, 
 softened by the dewy softness of the night, 
 and breathing from sources invisible, as if 
 they were inspired only by the winds, or 
 poured from the clouds, might have seemed 
 lovely and sublime. 
 
 But a new alarm arose in the direction of 
 the forest, which now lay beneath us, like a 
 sea slightly silvered on its thousand billows 
 by the sinking moon. The trampling of cav- 
 alry was distinctly heard in pursuit, and torch- 
 es were seen wandering through the trees. 
 The pursuit had turned into the very path by 
 which we came ; and the baying of a blood- 
 hound up the ridge was guiding the cavalry 
 to our inevitable capture, if we remained. I 
 was resolved not to be taken, while I could 
 fight or fly; and pointing out to my fellow- 
 fugitives the detachment of horse as they 
 glittered from the grove, and scoured the 
 foot of the hills ; 1 plunged down into a ra- 
 vine, where I could expect to find only some 
 
 torrent too deep for us to pass, and which 
 might be our grave. But it was at least pro- 
 tracted fate ; we should not fall alive into 
 the hands of men exasperated to the last de- 
 gree of animosity, and sure to sacrifice us 
 after the mockery of a prejudiced trial, and 
 the misery of a dungeon. If we died, we 
 should not leave our bodies to be insulted by 
 the caprice of the brutal soldier; and no stain 
 of weakness or submission should degrade the 
 last hour of the sons of Jerusalem. 
 
 I had given Naomi into the hands of her 
 [lover; and, while they slowly descended the 
 precipice, I returned to its edge to ascertain 
 whether the enemy were still upon our steps. 
 The rock, towards the summit, was splintered 
 into a number of little pinnacles ; grasping 
 one of which, I clung, listening and gazing 
 with indescribable nervousness. The sounds 
 of pursuit had perished, or were so mingled 
 with the common sounds of nature as to be 
 unheard ; and I was congratulating myself 
 upon our total safety, and about to return to 
 the spot where I had left my companions, 
 when the torch-light shot up from the dell 
 immediately below me. It passed rapidly 
 round, and, to my surprise and alarm, began 
 to spread between me and the path which I 
 had marked for our escape. 
 
 I gave a hurried glance along the ravine; 
 but Naomi was not there. A detachment of 
 archers were climbing over the huge rocks 
 ! that filled up its depth, and flashing their 
 1 torches through every hollow where a human 
 being could lie. Concealment was impossi- 
 ble, if they continued their search ; but after 
 a short period, the torches appeared to pass 
 down an angle of the glen where some thick- 
 ets allowed shelter. 
 
 j To rescue my unfortunate charge, was my 
 first resolve ; and I began to let myself down 
 the abrupt side of the hollow, before the torch- 
 es disappeared. They at last seemed to be 
 completely gone ; but, as I hung within a 
 few feet of the path, a growl and a dash at 
 my throat nearly overthrew my steadiness. 
 I knew that a precipice of immense depth 
 lay underneath ; and, in the utter darkness, 
 I could have no certainty that my next step 
 might not carry me over it. My sole expe- 
 dient was the rock with one hand, and de- 
 fend myself to the last with the other. The 
 bloodhound had tracked me ; and he flew 
 again at my throat, but I was now prepared ; 
 I caught him in the bound, and whirled him 
 down the ravine. His howl, as he fell from 
 crag to crag, detected me at once. A hun- 
 dred torches rushed upwards. I climbed the 
 \ pinnacle, sprang from its top into a pine thick- 
 et, and winding over a long extent of broken 
 ground, gradually lost torches and outcries 
 together. 
 
 1 After a pause, to consider in what quarter 
 
192 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 final escape was most probable, a glimmering 
 light through the thicket at a considerable 
 distance towards the city determined me. 
 My pursuers must be far behind : the loss of 
 the bloodhound diminished still more their 
 chance of reaching my track through a re- 
 markably wild and broken district ; and, come 
 what would, whether that light was kindled 
 by my friends or enemies, I should see them 
 before they could discover me. 
 
 I struggled on, until I reached the base of 
 a ridge, on whose farther side the light 
 gleamed. To ascend it, was beyond my 
 powers; but, by gliding along the base, 1 
 found a crevice, which, enlarged, whether 
 by nature or the human hand, led through 
 the hill. My way in darkness was brief, I 
 had not gone a third of the distance, when 
 a light shone strongly through the cavern. 
 At its mouth, I stood overwhelmed. I had 
 strayed into the memorable valley of the 
 Crosses ! 
 
 Thousands of men, besmeared with blood, 
 dust and clay, half-naked, brandishing wea- 
 pons still dripping with gore; whirling torch- 
 es; shouting out roars of triumph; howling 
 in desperate lamentation; trampling and toss- 
 ing dead bodies with furious insult; kneeling 
 and weeping over the dead with the most 
 %'iolent affliction ; wrapping themselves in 
 robes of armor ; tearing away their raiment, 
 and flinging sword and spear into the flames; 
 throwing hundreds of corpses into one pro- 
 miscuous burning, round which they danced 
 with furious exultation ; carrying away on 
 litters of lances and branches corpses that 
 they seemed to hallow as more than mortal ; 
 every strange variety of human passion 
 wound up to its wildest height was pictured 
 before me. And all was thrown into the 
 most living distinctness by the blaze of an 
 immense central heap of timber. 
 
 The horrid cruelties of the morning had 
 been heard of in Jerusalem; and the spirit 
 of the people was roused to vengeance. 
 With that imperishable courage which dis- 
 tinguished them above all nations, a defiance 
 and scorn of hazard that in those unhappy 
 days only urged them to their ruin, they de- 
 termined to make the enemy pay in slaugh- 
 ter for the memory of their warriors. A mul- 
 titude, without a leader, but among whom 
 served with the simple spear many a leader, 
 poured out from the gates to attack an enemy 
 flushed with victory, and secured in intrench- 
 ments impregnable to the naked strength of 
 my unfortunate countrymen. 
 
 They divided into two armies ; one of 
 which assaulted the lines, while the other 
 marched to the valley of the Crosses. The 
 assault on the lines was repelled, after long 
 and desperate displays of intrepidity. It was 
 the intelligence of this attack that had broken 
 
 up the banquet. The Romans had sustained 
 heavy losses in the early part of the night • 
 their outposts in the plain were sacrificed, 
 and the chief part of their cantonments 
 burned. 
 
 But the “army of vengeance,” a name 
 given to it alike by Jew and Roman, accom- 
 plished its purpose with dreadful retribution. 
 The legionaries posted to defend the valley 
 were trampled down, and destroyed at the 
 first charge. Detachment on detachment 
 sent to extricate them, met with the same 
 fate. One of the few prisoners described the 
 valley, when his detachment reached its 
 verge, as having the look of a living whirl- 
 pool, a vast and tempestuous rolling and 
 heaving of infuriate life, into which the at- 
 tempt to descend was instant destruction. 
 “ Every cohort that entered it,” said the cen- 
 turion, “ was instantly engulphed, and seen 
 no more. Last night our legion, the fifteenth, 
 lay down in their tents five thousand strong; 
 to-night there are not ten of us on the face 
 of the earth.” 
 
 The conflict was long, and the last of the 
 enemy were under the Jewish sword, when 
 I reached the mouth of the cavern. But in 
 the first intervals of the struggle, the remains 
 of our tortured people had been taken down 
 from the accursed tree, tended with solemn 
 sorrow, and given up to their relatives and 
 friends to be borne back to Jerusalem. The 
 crosses were thrown into a heap, and set on 
 fire; the fallen legionaries underwent the 
 last indignities that could be inflicted by scorn 
 and rage; and when even those grew weary, 
 were flung into the blazing pile. 
 
 The fate of the noble Eleazar was still un- 
 known; and, to obtain the certainty of his 
 preservation, or to render the last honor to 
 his remains, I forced my way towards the 
 spot on which I had seen him awaiting death. 
 But my researches were in vain: the wit- 
 nesses on both sides were now where there 
 is no utterance. Guard, executioner, and 
 victim, were clay: the battle had raged 
 chiefly round that spot; and the ground, 
 trampled and stained deep, gave melancholy 
 evidence of the havoc. There were painful 
 and peculiar signs of the sacrifice that had 
 extinguished the little group of the converts; 
 and I poured oil and wine upon their hallow- 
 ed ashes. A large fragment of a cross still 
 stood erect in the midst of them. “ Was it 
 upon thee, accursed thing,” I exclaimed, 
 “ that the life-blood of my brother was poured 1 
 Was it upon thee, that the last breath was 
 breathed in torture from the lips of virtue, 
 heroism, and purity? Never shalt thou min- 
 ister again to the cruelty of the monsters 
 j that raised thee there.” 
 
 Indignantly I tore up the beam ; and drag- 
 ging it to the pile by my single strength— to 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 193 
 
 the wonder of the crowd, who eagerly offered 
 their help, but whom I would not suffer to 
 share in this imaginary, yet consoling retri- 
 bution — I rolled it into the flames, amidst 
 shouts and rejoicings. 
 
 Daybreak was now at hand, and the sounds 
 of the enemy’s movements made our return 
 necessary. We heaped the last Roman corpse 
 on the pile; covered it with the broken 
 spears, helmets, and cuirasses of the dead, 
 and then left the care of the conflagration to 
 the wind. From the valley to Jerusalem, 
 our way was crowded with the enemy’s 
 posts ; but the keen eye and agile vigor of 
 the Jew eluded or anticipated the heavy- 
 armed legionaries, by long experience taught 
 to dread the night in Judea; and we reached 
 the Grand Gate of Sion, as the sun was 
 shooting his first rays on the pinnacles of the 
 Temple. 
 
 In those strange and agitated days, when 
 every hour produced some extraordinary 
 scene, I remember few more extraordinary 
 than that morning’s march into the city. It 
 was a triumph ! but how unlike all that bore 
 the name! it was no idle, popular pageant; 
 no fantastic and studied exhibition of trophies 
 and treasures ; no gaudy homage to personal 
 ambition ; no holiday show to amuse the idle- 
 ness or to feed the vanity of a capital secure 
 in peace, and pampered with the habits of 
 opulence and national supremacy. But it 
 was at once a rejoicing, a funeral, a great 
 act of ■ atonement, a popular preservation, 
 whose results none could limit, and a proud 
 revenge on the proudest of enemies. 
 
 That nisrht not an eye had closed in Jeru- 
 salem. The Romans, quick to turn every 
 change to advantage, had suffered the advance 
 of our irregular combatants only until they 
 could throw a force between them and the 
 gates. The assault was made, and with par- 
 tial success ; but the population once roused, 
 was terrible to an enemy fighting against wails 
 and ramparts, and the assailants were, after 
 long slaughter on both sides, drawn off at 
 the sight of our columns moving from the 
 hills. We marched in, upwards of fifty thou- 
 sand men, as wild and strange-looking a host 
 as ever trod, to acclamations of voices unnum- 
 bered. Every casement, roof, battlement, 
 and wall, in the long range of magnificent 
 streets leading round by the foot of Sion to 
 Mount Moriah, was covered with spectators. 
 Man, woman, and child, of every rank, were 
 there, straining their eyes and voices, and 
 waving hands, weapons, and banners for their 
 deliverers from the terror of instant massacre. 
 Our motly ranks had equipped themselves 
 with the Roman spoils, where they could ; 
 and among the ragged vestures, discolored 
 turbans, and rude pikes, moved masses of 
 glittering mail, helmets, and gilded lances. 
 
 Beside the torn flags of the tribes were toss- 
 ing embroidered standards with the initials 
 of the Caesars, or the golden image of some 
 deity, mutilated by our scorn for the idolater. 
 The Jewish trumpets had scarcely sent up 
 their chorus, when it was followed by the 
 clanging of the Roman cymbal, and the long 
 and brilliant tone of the clarion, or the deep 
 roar of the brass conch and serpent. Close 
 upon ranks exulting and shouting victory, 
 came ranks bearing the honored dead on lit- 
 ters, and bursting into bitter sorrow ; then 
 rolled onward thousands, bounding and show- 
 ing the weapons and relics that they had torn 
 from the enemy ; then passed groups of the 
 priesthood, — for they too had long taken the 
 common share in the defence, — singing one 
 of the glorious hymns of the Temple : then 
 again followed litters surrounded by the 
 wives and children of the dead, wrapt in in- 
 consolable grief. Bands of warriors, who 
 had none to care for, the habitual sons of 
 the field; armed women; chained captives; 
 beggars ; men covered with the stately 
 dresses of our higher ranks; biers heaped 
 with corpses; wagons piled with armor, tents, 
 provisions, the wounded, the dead ; every di- 
 versity of human circumstance, person and 
 equipment that belongs to a state in which 
 the elements of society are let loose, in that 
 march successively moved before the eye. 
 With the men were mingled the captured 
 horses of the legionaries; the camels and 
 dromedaries of the allies; herds of the bull 
 and buffalo, droves of goats and sheep ; the 
 whole one mighty mass of misery, rejoicing, 
 nakedness, splendor, pride, humiliation, fu- 
 rious and savage life, and honored and la- 
 mented death ; the noble patriotism, and the 
 most hideous abandon " "it to the excesses 
 of our nature. 
 
 As soon as I could extricate myself from 
 the concourse, I hastened to appease the anx- 
 ieties of my family ; who had suffered the 
 general terrors of the night, with the addi- 
 tion of their own stake in my peril, and that 
 of Constantius. Esther had returned, and 
 was still in nervous alarm. On the night of 
 her being led, through filial zeal, to meet 
 Septimius, she was seized by a party of armed 
 men, and by them conveyed to a dungeon, 
 where questions had been put to her tending 
 to charge me at once with magic, and cor- 
 respondence with the enemy. But no threat- 
 enings could influence her, and she found 
 herself as unexpectedly set at liberty as she 
 had been seized. At the gate of her prison 
 the minstrel had met her, and through the 
 midst of the city, then in its fiercest agitation, 
 had with singular dexterity conducted her 
 safely home. 
 
 A service of this kind was not to go unre- 
 warded, and he was suffered to remain under 
 
194 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 our roof until my return. But by that time 
 he had made his ground secure by such zeal- 
 ous service, and so many graceful and val- 
 uable qualities, that even Miriam, sensitive 
 and sagacious as she was, desired that he 
 should be retained. From his knowledge of 
 the various dialects of Asia, and his means 
 of unsuspected intercourse, but few events 
 could occur of which he had not obtained 
 some previous knowledge. His adroitness 
 in availing himself of his knowledge I had 
 already experienced in my escape from the 
 gates, and it was to him that was due the 
 flight of the negroes. A stray charger, a 
 mask, and the common juggler’s contrivance 
 of breathing flames, made up the demon that 
 defrauded the Ethiopian exchequer. But his 
 dexterity in the arts of elegance and taste 
 was singular: his pencil was dipt in nature; 
 and the sketches that he was perpetually 
 making of the wild and picturesque popula- 
 tion that now filled our streets were incom- 
 parable. He sculptured ; he modeled ; he 
 wove ; he wrought the gold fillagree and 
 chain-work for which our artists were fa- 
 mous, with a skill that the most famous 
 might have envied. His knowledge of lan- 
 guages was the natural result of his wander- 
 ings, but it was extraordinarily various and 
 pure. The dance and song were part of 
 his profession ; but from the little imperfect 
 harp in use among the minstrels he drew 
 tones that none other had ever delighted me 
 with ; — sounds of such alternate spirit and 
 sweetness, such heart-reaching power, that 
 they were like an immediate communication 
 of mind with mind. 
 
 And the charm of those acquirements was 
 enhanced by the graceful carelessness with 
 which he made his estimate of their value. 
 To my questions, how he could, at his age, 
 have mastered so many attainments; his re- 
 ply was, that, with his three teachers, “ every 
 thing might be learned, common sense alone 
 excepted, the peculiar and rarest gift of Provi- 
 dence. Those three teachers were, Neces- 
 sity, Habit and Time. At his starting in life, 
 Necessity had told him that, if he hoped to 
 live, he must labor ; Habit turned the labor 
 into an indulgence ; and Time gave every 
 man an hour for every thing; unless he chose 
 to yawn it away.” 
 
 But he had higher topics; and the sagaci- 
 ty of his views, in a crisis that was made to 
 shake the wisdom of the wise, often held me 
 in astonishment. The fate of Constantius 
 deeply perplexed me. He had now been absent 
 three days : and no tidings ot him could be 
 heard among the returning warriors, farther 
 than that he had joined them in the march to 
 the valley of the Crosses, had distinguished 
 himself by the intrepidity of his attack on the 
 legionary guard at the entrance, and was 
 
 
 'seen for a short time with a captured stand- 
 ard in his hand leading on the people. 
 
 Unable to endure the silent anguish of 
 those around me, silent only through fear of 
 giving pain, I had determined on passing 
 the walls again, to seek my brave and unfor- 
 tunate son among the fallen. But Miriam’s 
 quick affection detected me, and with weep- 
 ing prayers she implored that “ I should not 
 risk a life, on which hung her own and those 
 of her children.” 
 
 The sound of the lyre came soothingly 
 upon the air, and to dissipate the cloud that 
 was gathering on my mind, I wandered to a 
 balcony, where, in the light of the evening 
 sun, and the pleasant breathing of the breeze, 
 the minstrel was touching the strings of the 
 song that had first attracted me. I flung my 
 wearied frame on a couch, and listened till 
 memory became too keen, and I waved my 
 hand to him to change the strain. He 
 obeyed ; but his heart was in the harp no 
 more ; his touch faltered, the song died away, 
 and he approached me with a soothingness 
 of voice and manner that none would have 
 I desired to resist. “ My prince, you are un- 
 | happy ; and if your sorrows can be lightened 
 j by any service of mine, why not command 
 | me 1” He waited ; but I was too much ab- 
 ; sorbed in gloomy speculation. “ I can pass 
 the gates,” he timidly continued, “ if such be 
 my lord’s will.” I made a sign of dissent; 
 for the enemy, since their late surprise, had 
 begun to urge the seige with increased vigi- 
 lance. Yet my anxiety for the fate of Con- 
 stantius, and scarcely less for that of Naomi 
 and her lover, must have been visible. 
 
 He still lingered nigh, watching the indi- 
 cations that inward struggleso forcibly paints 
 upon the external man. “ Prince of Naph- 
 tali,” said he, in a steadier tone, “ among my 
 teachers, I forgot to mention one, and that 
 one the most effective of all — Self-determi- 
 nation ! not the mere disregard of personal 
 risk, but the intrepidity of the mind. I loved 
 knowledge, and I pursued it without fear. 
 Nature is boundless, wise, and wonderful. 
 But prejudice bars up the gate of knowledge. 
 The man who would learn, must despise the 
 timidity that shrinks from wisdom; he must 
 hate the tyranny of opinion that condemns 
 its pursuit. Wisdom is, like beauty, to be 
 won only by the bold.” 
 
 I looked up at the young pronouncer of 
 the oracle. His countenance, animated by 
 | the topic, wore an expression of brilliancy 
 and power, in which I should never have re- 
 cognized the delicate and dejected being that 
 he always appeared, except in some moment 
 of sportiveness, come and gone with the 
 quickness of lightning. 
 
 “ Minstrel, apply this to our people or theil 
 
Salat hie/. 
 
 195 
 
 bigoted and ignorant leaders. I have no 1 
 prejudices.” 
 
 “ All men have them, my prince. And ; 
 the only distinction is, that in some they are^ 
 mean, dark, malignant; in others they are 
 lofty, generous, and feeling ; yet they are I 
 but the stronger for their nobleness. The 
 mind itself struggles to throw off the vile and ; 
 naked fetter. But how many forget the in- ! 
 cumbrance of the chain of gold in its pre- 1 
 ciousness !” He hesitated, and then, with a 
 still more elevated air, again began: “ You 
 despise, for instance, the little ingenuities of 
 our profession, and I own that in general^ 
 they deserve nothing else. But if there were 
 to come before you some true lover of nature, I 
 a disciple of that sublimer philosophy which j 
 holds the secrets of her operations ; a master 
 of those superb influences which rule the 
 frame of things, and yet more, guide the fates 
 of men and nations ; would not your preju- 
 dices, and noble ones they are, lead you to 
 repel the offer of his knowledge !” 
 
 Thoughts tending to those mysteries had 
 so often occurred to me, and my mind was 
 by its original constitution so fond of the ab- 
 struse and the wild, that I listened with the 
 interest of habitual pleasure to the romance 
 of philosophy. The figure before me was 
 not unsuited to the illusion ; slight, habited 
 in the fanciful dress of his art, a tunic of pur- 
 ple cloth, bound round the waist with a gir- 
 dle; the turban, a mere band of scarlet silk, 
 lightly laid upon his curls. There was in 
 this nothing that was not to be seen at every 
 hour in the streets; but, round his waist, in- 
 stead of the usual girdle of the minstrels, he 
 wore to-night a large golden serpent, em- 
 bossed and colored with a startling resem-! 
 blance to life; and a broad golden circlet 
 wrought with devices of serpents clasped his 
 brow. But the countenance was vividness; 
 itself; not without that occasional wander- 
 ing and touch of melancholy that showed; 
 where early care has been; yet redeeming 
 the gloom by a smile that had the sweetness 1 
 and suddenness of the sun-beam across an 
 April shower. 
 
 The evening music of the Roman camps 
 roused me, as their ranks were drawn out 
 for the customary exercise. I turned from 
 them to glance upon the battlements, that 
 were now crowded with stragglers of the tribes 
 inhaling the air of the fields, and like myself 
 gazing on the movements of the enemy. The 
 thought pressed on me, how soon and how 
 terribly all this must end ; what were the 
 multitudes to be, that now lived and breathed 
 beneath my glance ! I turned from earth to 
 look upon the west, where the evening star 
 was lying on a rosy cloud, like a spirit sent 
 to bring back tidings from this troubled 
 world. 
 
 “ There, boy,” said I, “ will your wisdom 
 tell me the story of that star 1 Are its peo- 
 ple as mad as we ! Is there ambition on one 
 side and folly on the other ! Are their great 
 men the prey of a populace, and their popu- 
 lace the tools and the fools of the great men! 
 Have they orators, to inflame their passions ; 
 lawyers, to beggar them in pursuit of justice ; 
 traders, to cheat them; heroes to give them 
 laurels and vanity, at the price of blood, hun- 
 ger, and misery; and philosophers, to be the 
 worst plagues among them — in the midst of 
 perpetual wonders, and baffled by every peb- 
 ble under their feet ; insensible to their own 
 ignorance; and with every attribute and 
 voice of nature full of worship, wrapping 
 themselves in the robe of the scorner, and 
 refusing their homage to a God!” 
 
 “ Even that knowledge,” said the minstrel, 
 “ may not be beyond the flight of the human 
 intellect ; but prejudices must be first over- 
 come : we must learn to scorn names, defy 
 idle fears, and use the powers of nature to 
 give us the mastery of nature. There are 
 virtues in plants, in metals, even in words, 
 that to seek alarms the feeble, but to possess 
 constitutes the mighty. There are influences 
 of the air, of the stars, of even the most ne- 
 glected and despised things, that may be gift- 
 ed to confer the sovereignty of mankind.” 
 
 I listened with the passive indulgence of 
 one listening under a spell: his voice had 
 the sweetness and flow of song, and his lan- 
 guage was made impressive by gestures of 
 striking intelligence and beauty. He point- 
 ed to the skies, to the flowers, to the horizon, 
 that glowed like an ocean of amber; and his 
 fine countenance assumed a new character 
 of loftiness, loveliness, or repose, as he gazed 
 on the sublime or the serene. 
 
 “ Boy,” said I, faintly, “ are not those the 
 studies by which the pagan world is made 
 evil !” 
 
 He smiled. “ No ! Light is not farther 
 from darkness than wisdom from the super- 
 stitions of the Pagan. Rome is filled with 
 the madness that fall upon idolatry for its 
 curse — that has fallen since the beginning 
 of the world — that shall fall until its end. 
 She is the slave of spiritual fear. This hour, 
 among the proudest, boldest, wisest, within 
 the borders of Paganism, there lives not a 
 man unenslaved by the lowest delusion. The 
 soothsayer, the interpreter of dreams, the 
 sacrificer, the seller of the remains and dust 
 of the dead, the miserable pretender to magic ; 
 those are the true rulers of the haughty em- 
 pire — those are the sceptre-bearers, to whom 
 the emperor is a menial ; who laugh at au- 
 thority, set counsel at naught, and are sap- 
 ping the foundations of the state, were they 
 deep as the centre, by sapping the vigor and 
 virtue of the national mind.” 
 
196 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 While he spoke he was, with apparent un- 
 consciousness, sketching some outlines on 
 one of the large marble slabs of the wall. 
 My eyes had followed the sun, until the bal- 
 cony, darkened by an old vine, was in the 
 depth of twilight. To my surprise, the mar- 
 ble began to be covered with fire ; but fire 
 of the softest and most silvery hue. The 
 surprise was increased, by seeing this glow- 
 worm lustre kindle into form. I saw Con- 
 stantius ; and by his side, Naomi and her 
 lover. As the lines grew clearer still, I saw 
 them in chains, and in a dungeon ! 
 
 The extraordinary information which the 
 minstrel had the means of obtaining, made 
 me demand, in real alarm, whether the pic- 
 ture were true; and that, if it were, I should 
 be instantly acquainted with whatever might 
 enable me to save them, 
 i “And trifles like those fires can excite 
 your astonishment !” he replied. “ What if 
 I were to tell you of wonders, such as it has 
 not entered into the mind of the world to 
 conceive; yet, which are before us every 
 hour of our lives, are mingled with every 
 thing, are grasped in our insensate hands, are 
 trodden by our careless feet 1 See these 
 crystals — ” he scraped a portion of the nitre 
 exuding from the wall ; — “ in these is hidden 
 a power to which the strength of man is but 
 air — to which the mighty bulwarks round us 
 are but as the leaf on the breeze — at whose 
 command armies shall vanish, mountains 
 shake, empires perish — the whole face of so- 
 ciety shall change ; — yet, by a sublime con- 
 tradiction, combining the greatest evil with 
 the greatest good — the most lavish waste of 
 life and happiness, with the most signal pro- 
 vision for human security and civilization ! 
 
 “ Look on this metal,” said he, pointing to 
 some of the leaden ornaments of the balcony; 
 “ and think what is the worth of human judg- 
 ment. Who would give the pearl or the dia- 
 mond, the silver or the gold, for this dis- 
 colored dress'! Yet here is the king of met- 
 als — the king 0 f earth: for it can create, sub- 
 due, and rule all that earth produces of no- 
 bleness and power. Within this dross are 
 treasures hidden, more than earth could buy 
 • — truth, knowledge, and freedom. It can 
 give the dead a new life, and give the living 
 a new immortality. It can stoop the haught- 
 iest usurper that ever sinned against man 
 into the lowest scorn. It can raise the hum- 
 blest son of obscurity into pre-eminence ; and, 
 even without breaking in upon the seclusion 
 that he loves, make him the benefactor of the 
 human race, and set him forth crowned to 
 every future age with involuntary glory. It 
 can flash light upon the darkest corners of 
 the earth; light never to be extinguished. 
 It can civilize the barbarian : it can pour 
 perpetual increase of happiness, strength, and 
 
 liberty round the civilized. It can make feet 
 to itself that walk through the dungeon walls; 
 wings that the uttermost limits of the world 
 cannot weary ; eyes to which the darkest 
 concealments of evil are naked as the day; 
 intellect that darts through the universe, and 
 grasps the mightiest mysteries of nature and 
 of mind ! But in it too is a fearful power of 
 ruin. Holding the keys of opulence and em- 
 pire, it can raise men and nations to the most 
 dazzling height. But it can stain, delude, 
 and madden them, until they become a worse 
 than pestilence to human nature.” 
 
 While he spoke, his form assumed a gran- 
 deur commensurate to his lofty topics; the 
 power of his voice awoke with the awaking 
 power of his mind. My faculties succumbed 
 under his presence, and I could only exclaim ; 
 “ More of those wonders : give me more of 
 those noble evidences of the supremacy of 
 man !” 
 
 “ Man !” said my strange enlightener ; 
 “ look upon him as he is; and what more 
 helpless thing moves under the canopy of 
 heaven ! The prey of folly, the creature of 
 accident, the sport of nature : the surge whirls 
 him where he will ; the wind scorns his bid- 
 ding; the storm crushes him ; the lightning 
 smites him. But, look upon man, when 
 knowledge has touched him with her scep- 
 tre.” He fixed upon me eyes, from which 
 I thought the very lightnings gleamed. The 
 circlet round his brow seemed to quiver and 
 sparkle with inward lustre; the golden ser- 
 pent that clasped his robe seemed to writhe 
 and revolve. 1 felt like one under its fasci- 
 nation. A sense of danger thrilled through 
 me, yet mixed with a dreamy and luxurious 
 sense of enjoyment. The air was heavy with 
 fragrance; and [ sat listening in powerless 
 homage to a lip moulded by beauty and dis- 
 dain. 
 
 “ Man, the sport of nature!” said he; point- 
 ing to a bead of dew that hung glittering on 
 the leaf of a vine. “ Say man, the sovereign 
 of nature ! With but so feeble an instrument 
 as this dew-drop, he might control and scorn 
 the wind and the wave. Or would you de- 
 fy the storm in darkness; without sun or star 
 speed through the unknown ocean ; and add 
 a new world to the old! Within this frag- 
 ment lies the secret.” He struck ofF a brown 
 splinter from the stone of the balcony. “ Or 
 would you behold regions, to which the stars 
 that now blaze above our heads are but the 
 portal ; kingdoms of light never penetrated by 
 mortal vision ; generations of worlds! By 
 what splendid influence think you that the 
 miracle is to be wrought ! Even by this dust !” 
 He took up a few grains of the sand at his 
 feet, and poured them into my robe. He saw 
 his time. “ Would you,” exclaimed he, “ be 
 master of those magnificent secrets! But 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 197 
 
 bind this girdle round you, and invoke the 
 name that I shall name.” 
 
 I shuddered ; the arts of the diviner flashed 
 upon me. But 1 had listened too long not to 
 be enfeebled by the temptation. I felt the 
 passion which lost us paradise — the thirst of 
 forbidden knowledge. “ Ye shall be as gods,” 
 was echoing in my soul ! Still I resisted. 
 The young deceiver urged me with more 
 distinct promises. “ In your fate,” said he, 
 “ the fate of your nation is bound up. Has 
 it not been declared that a great deliverer 
 is to come, by whom the face of the enemies 
 of Judah is to be withered, and the kingdom 
 and the sceptre of the earth given back to 
 the hand of Israeli Pledge yourself to me, 
 and be that deliverer ! You shrink! Know 
 then, that while I speak, every creature of 
 your blood is in chains; your house is deso- 
 late ; your fortunes are overthrown ; you are 
 cut off, root and branch ; you are exiled — 
 desperate — undone.” 
 
 I felt a dreadful certainty that his words 
 were true. My heart bled at the picture of 
 ruin. I wavered. The temptation tingled 
 through my veins. “ What was the sacrifice 
 of myself,” thought I, “ wretched and sen- 
 tenced as I was, to the preservation of beings 
 made for happiness 1 Or, was I to hesitate, 
 let the risk be what it might, when virtue, 
 patriotism, and boundless knowledge, were 
 added to that preservation! For the trivial 
 honors that man could give to man, the high- 
 est intellects of the earth had been influ- 
 enced ; but the honors of the restorer of Ju- 
 dah were an immortal theme, — the old splen- 
 dors of triumph were pronounced vain and 
 dim, the old supremacy of thrones weakness 
 to the domination and grandeur of the sov- 
 ereign that should sway the returning tribes 
 of Sion.” 
 
 The figure approached me ; and in a voice 
 that sunk with subtle force through every 
 nerve, pronounced the vow that I was to 
 utter. I was terror-struck; a cloud came 
 over my sight; strange lights moved and 
 glittered before me. I felt the unspeakable 
 dread that my faculties should betray me, 
 and that I should unconsciously yield to a 
 temptation, which yet I had no strength to 
 withstand. 
 
 While I sat helpless and almost blind, I 
 was roused by a majestic voice. I looked up. 
 Eleazar was at my side. 1 would have flung 
 myself into his arms ; I would have cast my- 
 self at his feet. But there was an indescrib- 
 able sensation that told me, my noble brother 
 was to be so approached no more. “ Well 
 and wisely hast thou resisted,” were his so- 
 lemn words. “ For in thee are the last for- 
 tunes of thy people. Judea must fall: but, 
 fallen with her as thou shalt be ; and desolate, 
 despairing, and wild, as shall be thy sojourn ; j 
 
 the last blow of ruin to both would be given, 
 i hadst thou yielded to the adversary.” I 
 | glanced at the minstrel. His visage was 
 horror : he stood deformed like one dead in 
 j the moment of torture. I closed my eyes 
 • against the hideous spectacle. A sound of 
 hurrying footsteps made me open them the 
 next instant. I was alone ! 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 The sound of the footsteps thickened. Ex- 
 hausted and overwhelmed as I was by the 
 trial that my mind had just undergone, I sat 
 nearly unconscious of external things, till I 
 was roused by a strong grasp from behind, 
 and saw myself surrounded by armed men. 
 I was passively bound ; and, indifferent to 
 fortune, was flung into a litter, and conveyed 
 to the dungeons of the tower of Antonio. In 
 this vast circle of fortifications, the citadel of 
 the former Roman garrison, the Jewish gov- 
 ernment was now held, or rather Onias lorded 
 it over the population. He had discovered 
 my dwelling; and the first fruits of his 
 i knowledge was my seizure and that of my 
 family. He was now playing the last throw 
 of that desperate game to which his life had 
 been given. Power was within his reach, 
 yet there I stood to thwart him once more ; 
 and he was resolved to extinguish the first 
 source of his danger. Yet I was popular, 
 and, with all his daring, he desired to cast 
 the odium of my death on the Sanhedrim. I 
 was to be tried on the ground of treating with 
 the enemy ; my family were seized, to shake 
 my courage by their peril ; and I was to be 
 forced to an ignominious confession, as the 
 price of saving their lives. 
 
 At the mouth of the dungeon, a torch was 
 put into my hands. I was left to make my 
 way ; and the iron door was closed, that 
 had shut out many a wretch from light and 
 life. At the bottom of the steps I found a 
 man sleeping tranquilly on the bare stone. 
 The glare of the torch disturbed him ; he 
 (started up, and looking in my face, exclaimed 
 ! in the buoyant and cheerful tone, by which I 
 (should have recognized him under any dis- 
 guise, “ By Jupiter, I knew that we were to 
 meet ! If I had to sleep to-night at the bot- 
 tom of the sea, I would wager my scimetar 
 to a straw, that our bodies would be found 
 lying side by side. I presume we mount the 
 scaffold together to-morrow, for the benefit of 
 Jewish morality. Well, then, since our fates 
 i are to be joined, let us begin by — supping to- 
 gether. 
 
 He laid his store on the ground ; but I was 
 heart-sick ; and could only question him of 
 1 1 Naomi and the misfortune which had betrayed 
 
198 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 him into the hands of the tyrant. “ Our his- 
 tory is the briefest in the world,” was the an- 
 swer. “ We found ourselves pursued, and 
 we tied. The pursuers followed faster than 
 my fair mistress could run, or I carry her. 
 So, we were overtaken before we could clear 
 the rocks. And our captors were forthwith 
 carrying us to the Roman camp in great joy 
 at their prize. But it was intended to be an 
 unlucky day for the legions. We came 
 across a Jewish troop, headed by a fine bold 
 fellow, who dashed upon the captors, and 
 fluttered them like a flight of pigeons. 
 Nothing could promise better than the affair; 
 for my new captor turned out to be an old 
 friend, and one of the most gallant that ever j 
 commanded a trireme. Many a day the Cy- 1 
 priot and I chased (Nemesis forgive us for 
 it!) the pirates through the Cyclades; I 
 however, did not know then, what pleasant 
 personages the brothers of the free-trade 
 might be.” He smiled; and the sigh that 
 followed the smile, told how little he had 
 since found to compensate for his old adven- 
 tures. 
 
 “ Your captor was my son, my heroic Con- 
 stantins!” I exclaimed. 
 
 “The very man. When he found me 
 out under my Arab trappings, he was all 
 hospitality, and invited me to share the hon- 
 ors of his princely father’s house. His troop 
 soon scattered, every man to his home; and 
 I was gazing at the head of an incomparable 
 knave and early acquaintance, Jonathan, 
 nailed up over the gate for some villainy 
 which he had not been as adroit as usual in 
 turning to profit; when Constantius, myself, < 
 and that lovely and innocent girl, whom I 
 shall never see more” — he stooped his brow 
 at the recollection — “ were seized by the 
 guard, separated, and sent, 1 suppose, alike to 
 the dungeon.” 
 
 Shortly after midnight I was brought be- 
 fore the tribunal. Onias was my accuser, 
 and I was astonished at the dexterity, num- 
 ber, and plausibility of bis charges — magic, 
 treachery, denial of my services to the coun- 
 try, the betrayal of my army, the refusal to 
 push the defeated enemy to a surrender, lest 
 by the cessation of war, my ambition should 
 be deprived of its object ; and last, and most I 
 astonishing, the assassination of my kinsman i 
 Jubal, through fear of his testimony. 
 
 1 made my defence with the fearlessness < 
 of one weary of life, and with the force of 
 truth. Some of the charges I explained; i 
 others I promptly and effectually repelled. 
 To the imputation of treachery, I answered 
 in a single sentence — “Read that correspon- ( 
 dence with the enemy, and judge which is t 
 the traitor.” I took the Egyptian’s papers i 
 from my sash, and flung them on the table. < 
 
 The aspect of my accuser at the words, i 
 
 was one that might have made his sternest 
 hater pity him. He gasped — he trembled — 
 he gnashed his teeth in rage and terror ; and, 
 finally, took refuge in the ranks of his follow- 
 ers. But the judges themselves were in 
 visible perplexity : they looked over the pa- 
 pers, held them to the lamps, and examined 
 them in all imaginable ways; until the chief 
 of the Sanhedrim rising, with a frown that 
 fixed all eyes on me, flung the papers at my 
 feet. The deepest silence was round me as 
 1 took up the rejected proofs. To my aston- 
 ishment, they were utterly blank ! 
 
 I now recollected that, on my entrance, I 
 had been pressed upon by the crowd. In 
 | that moment the false papers must have been 
 : substituted. I saw the Egyptian gliding 
 away from the side of Onias, and saw by the 
 countenance of my accuser, that the tidings 
 of the robbery had just reached him. He rose 
 and declaimed against me with renewed 
 energy. He was eloquent by nature ; the 
 habit of public affairs had given even the 
 form of his speaking that character of practi- 
 cal vigor and reality, which is essential to 
 great public impression : his passions were 
 inflamed ; his fortunes hung in the scale — 
 perhaps his life; and he poured out the whole 
 collected impulse in a torrent of the boldest 
 and most nervous declamation upon my head. 
 But my name was high ; my rank was not to 
 be lightly assailed ; my national services 
 were felt; and even the corrupt judicature 
 summoned for my ruin, were not so insen- 
 sible to popular feeling, as to violate the 
 forms of law to crush me. The trial lasted 
 during the night. I had the misery to see 
 my wife, my children, Constantius, Naomi, 
 my domestics, my fellow-warriors, every hu- 
 man being whom there was a chance of per- 
 plexing or terrifying into testimony, brought 
 forward against me. As a last resource, on 
 the secret suggestion of the Egyptian, who 
 had his own revenge to satisfy, the adven- 
 tures of the pirates’ cavern were declaimed 
 upon ; and the captain was summoned from 
 his cell. His figure and noble physiognomy 
 made him conspicuous, and a general mur- 
 mur of admiration arose, on his advance to 
 the tribunal. Miriam was at my side. I 
 felt her tremble ; her color went and came ; 
 and she drank in every tone of his voice with 
 intense anxiety. But when, in answer to the 
 questions of Onias, he detailed his story, and 
 in answer to his charge of being an enemy, 
 denied that he was either Roman or Greek, 
 Miriam’s spirit hung upon every word. 
 
 “A soldier’s best pedigree,” said he, con- 
 cluding, “ is his sword. I know no more than 
 that I was reared in the house of a Cypriot 
 noble, to whom I had been brought by a tra- 
 der of Alexandria. My protector made me a 
 sailor, and would have made me his heir; 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 199 
 
 bat Roman insolence disgusted me, and I left 
 my command ; bearing with me no other in- 
 heritance than a heart too proud for slavery, 
 my sctmetar, and this signet, which I have 
 borne from my infancy.” He took from his 
 bosom a large sculptured gem, fastened to a 
 chain of pearls. Miriam put forth her trem- 
 bling hand for it, read, with a startling eye, 
 her own name and mine, and exclaiming, — 
 “ My son ! my son !” tottered forward, and 
 fell fainting into his arms. 
 
 I flew to them both, and never did my woe- 
 worn heart beat with keener joy, than when 
 I too clasped my son, my long-lost, my first- 
 born. Yet clouds gathered instantly. Was 
 he not come to take the earliest embrace of 
 his parents, in the crisis of their fate, — the 
 promise of an unbroken lineage, given in the 
 days when my country was in the jaws of 
 destruction ; — the son, the brother, the hus- 
 band, awaking to those loveliest and happiest 
 ties of our nature, only when the axe of the 
 traitor, or the sword of the enemy was up- 
 lifted to cut them asunder for ever ; — the 
 prince, the patriot, the warrior, summoned 
 to the first exercise of his noble rights and 
 duties, when in the next hour a heap of dust 
 might be all that was left of himself, his 
 family, and his people! 
 
 1 clung to him with a fondness thirsting to 
 repay its long arrear. His desertion in the 
 hands of strangers ; the early hardships ; the 
 loss of a mother’s love and a father’s protec- 
 tion; the insults and privations that the 
 struggler through the world must bear; the 
 desperate hazards of his life ; even the errors 
 into which necessity and circumstances had 
 driven him, rose up in judgment against me ; 
 and I reproached myself for the accident, 
 perhaps the irresistible accident, that gave 
 my infant to the roaring waters. 
 
 But the tears and exclamations of the peo- 
 ple round us recalled us. I might then have 
 walked from the hall without any man’s dar- 
 ing to lay a hand upon me ; for the public 
 feeling, touched by the discovery of my son, 
 was loud for my instant liberation. But 1 
 was not to be satisfied" with this imperfect 
 justice, and demanded that the tribunal should 
 proceed. 
 
 The presence of my family was felt to be 
 too strong for the fears of my accuser ; and, 
 demanding no defence but truth, I implored 
 of them to retire. An impression, like that 
 of the warning of a superior spirit, struck on 
 my mind as 1 pronounced the word. It told 
 me that I had spoken the sentence of utter 
 separation. They came hand in hand to bid 
 me farewell. Constantius and Salome knelt 
 before me for final forgiveness. My son and 
 his betrothed bowed their heads to ask my 
 blessing. Miriam and Esther came last, and 
 silently hung upon my neck, dissolved in [ 
 
 tears of matchless anguish and love. I lifted 
 my eyes and heart to Heaven, and though 
 oppressed with the terrible convictions of my 
 own fate, prayed for them, and put forth my 
 hands, and blessed them in the name of the 
 God of Israel. I saw them pass away. My 
 firmness could bear no more : I wept aloui 
 But with my sorrow there was given a hope 
 —a light across the gloom of my soul. 
 When I saw their stately forms solemnly 
 move along through the fierce and guilty 
 multitude, and the distant portal shut upon 
 them, I thought of the sons and daughters of 
 the great patriarch, passing within the door 
 of the ark, from the midst of a condemned 
 world. 
 
 The night was worn out; the people ex- 
 hausted by the length of the trial, protracted 
 for the purpose, had left the hall nearly 
 empty ; and Onias, now secure of a tribunal 
 that dreaded nothing but the public eye, 
 urged the decision. The judges were his 
 creatures, through corruption or fear; his 
 followers alone remained. Sure to be crushed, 
 the fluctuations of hope were gone; and I lis- 
 tened to the powerful and high-wrought ha- 
 rangue of my enemy without a movement but 
 of admiration for his extraordinary po wers, or 
 of pity for their perverter. While he stood 
 drinking in with ears and eyes the wonder 
 and homage of the audience, I myself called 
 for sentence. “ Scorning,” said I, “ to rea- 
 son with understandings that will not com- 
 prehend, and consciences that cannot feel, I 
 appeal from the man of blood, to the God of 
 mercies ; from the worse than man of blood, 
 from the corrupter of justice, to Him who 
 shall judge the judge ; to the Mighty and the 
 Holy One, who shall yet pass sentence in the 
 sight of earth and heaven.” 
 
 The chief assessor rose ; my condemnation 
 was upon a lip quivering and pale ; he had 
 already in his hands the border of the robe 
 which he was to rend, in sign that the ac- 
 cused was rent from Israel. A confusion at' 
 the portal checked him ; and the words re- 
 sounded, “Beware! shed not the innocent 
 blood !” The voice was as a voice from the 
 sepulchre ; deep, melancholy, but searching 
 to the very heart. The guard gave way ; 
 and a man, covered from head to foot with a 
 sepulchral garment, rushed up the immense 
 hall. At the foot of the tribunal he flung off 
 the garment, and disclosed a face and form 
 that well might have ranked him among the 
 dwellers of the grave. 
 
 “ I have come from the tombs,” exclaimed 
 he : “I had lain down to die in the resting- 
 place of my fathers, in the valley of Jehosa- 
 phat. A man in white raiment stood beside 
 me, and commanded me to come, and bear 
 witness of the truth. The Romans were 
 round me — he led me through them ; the 
 
200 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 battlements were before me — he led me 
 through them ; riot, fury, and frenzy, stood 
 in my path through your city — he led me 
 through them ; — and lo ! here I come, and 
 proclaim by his command, ‘ Beware ! — shed 
 not the innocent blood.’ ” Onias stood par- 
 alyzed. No memory of mine could recall the 
 haggard features of the stranger. The chief 
 of the tribunal, in manifest confusion, re- 
 quired his name. “ My name,” he answered, 
 with a wild waive of his hand, “is nothing — 
 air — is gone. What I was, is past; what I 
 shall be, the tomb alone must tell : but what 
 I am, is the witness commissioned to pro- 
 claim Onias the betrayer of the blood of your 
 nobles — the slave of Rome — the traitor to his 
 country and his religion.” All hands were 
 lifted up in astonishment. Onias, sick at 
 heart, made a feeble gesture of denial. 
 “ Dares the traitor deny his own hand-writ- 
 ing 1” was the indignant reply. “ Let him 
 read his treason, committed within these 
 twelve hours !” He stalked over to the 
 guilty Onias, and held his letters to the 
 Roman general before his shrinking eye. 
 
 But what was his truth or falsehood to 
 me? I was marked for vengeance. While 
 my eyes were fixed on the portal through 
 which had vanished my last hope of happi- 
 ness, I was startled by an outcry, and I saw 
 the gleam of steel at my throat. Onias, in 
 despair of smiting me by the arm of the law, 
 had made a frenzied effort to destroy me by 
 his own. Quick as lightning the stranger 
 threw himself between us and grasped the 
 assassin ; they struggled — they were in- 
 volved in the large and loose robe, and fell 
 together. I dashed forward to separate them. 
 But the deed was done. Onias lay rolling 
 upon the ground ; the dagger was in the 
 6tranger’s grasp, and it was crimson to the 
 hilt. I could feel no vindictiveness against 
 the dying, and I offered him my hand. He 
 threw a violent expression of scorn into his 
 stiffening features, and cried, at convulsive 
 intervals — “ No compassion — no hypocrisy 
 for me — I die as I lived. I hated you, for 
 you thwarted me. You have the best of the 
 game now ; but if I had lived till to-morrow, 
 1 should have been lord of Jerusalem. The 
 Romans will settle all. You and yours would 
 have been in my power. You shall perish. 
 That boy is your son ; he was brought to me 
 in his infancy ; I hated you as my rival ; and 
 I swore that you should never see your first- 
 born again. I sold him to an Alexandrian. 
 You shall not live to triumph over me; your 
 dungeon shall be your tomb ; another night, 
 and you sleep no more, or sleep forever.” 
 He gathered his mantle over his face and 
 died. 
 
 His followers, after the first consternation, 
 demanded vengeance on the stranger. But 
 
 it was now rny time to protect him, and I 
 insisted on his right of self-defence, and de- 
 clared that no man should strike him but 
 through me. “ This is noble and generous,” 
 interrupted he, “ but useless. I too am dy- 
 ing. But I rejoice that I am dying by the 
 wound meant for you. Have I at last atoned ? 
 Have you forgotten ? Can you forgive ? 
 Then, prince of Naphtali, lay your hand upon 
 this heart, and while it beats, believe that 
 there you are honored. Time has changed 
 me ; misery has extinguished the last trace 
 of what I was. Farewell, my kinsman, friend, 
 chieftain; and remember — Jubal.” I caught 
 him in my arms; my heart melted at his suf- 
 ferings — his generous attachment — his heroic 
 devotion — his deep repentance. “ You have 
 more than atoned,” I exclaimed; “you are 
 more than forgiven. Live, my manly, kind, 
 high-hearted Jubal ; live for the honor of your 
 race — of your country — of human nature.” 
 He looked up with a smile of gratitude, and 
 faintly uttering, “ I die happy,” breathed in 
 my arms the last breath of one of the most 
 gallant spirits that ever left the world. 
 
 Loud shouts abroad, and blazes that colored 
 the roof with long columns of lurid light, put 
 an end to the deliberation of the tribunal. 
 The enemy were assaulting the citadel ; and 
 the mockery of justice was summarily closed 
 by returning me to my dungeon, to await 
 times fitter for the calmness of judicial mur- 
 der. 
 
 The assault continued for some hours; but 
 to my cavern, sunk in the very foundations 
 of the fortress, day never came ; and I lay, 
 still buried in darkness, when I heard sounds 
 like the blows of pickaxes; and from time to 
 time the fall of heavy bodies, followed by a 
 roar. The air grew close ; and chill as the 
 dungeon had been, 1 experienced a sensation 
 of heat still more painful. The heat increased 
 rapidly. I tried to avoid it by shifting my 
 place in the large vault, which had been 
 originally a granary. But the evil was not 
 to be baffled ; the air grew hotter and hotter. 
 I flung myself on the pavement to draw a 
 cool breath from the stones : they began to 
 glow under me. I ran to the door of the dun- 
 geon : it was iron, and the touch scorched 
 me. In alarm at the most hideous of all 
 deaths, I shouted, I tore at the walls, at the 
 massive rings in the floor, less perhaps from 
 the hope of thus escaping, than from the 
 vague eagerness to deaden present pain by 
 violent effort. But I tore up the pavement, 
 and shook down the fragment of the walls in 
 vain. The walls themselves began to split 
 with the heat ; smoke eddied through the crev- 
 ices of the immense stones; and the dungeon 
 was filled with fiery vapor. My raiment en- 
 cumbered me ; I tore it away, and, on the 
 floor, saw it fall in ashes. I felt the agonies 
 
Salathicl. 
 
 201 
 
 of suffocation ; and at last, helpless and hope- 
 less, threw myself down, like my raiment, to 
 be consumed. 
 
 I had scarcely touched the stone, when I 
 felt it shake and vibrate from side to side. 
 A hollow noise, like distant thunder, echoed 
 through the vault: the walls shook, collapsed, 
 opened, and I was plunged down a chasm, 
 and continued rolling for some moments in a 
 whirl of stones, dust, earth, and smoke. 
 When it subsided I found myself lying on the 
 green sward, in noon-day, at the bottom of a 
 valley, with the tower of Antonia, covered 
 with the legionaries, five hundred feet above 
 me. 
 
 The remnants of huge fires, round pillars 
 of timber, explained the mystery. The ene- 
 my had undermined the wall ; and, by burn- 
 ing the props, had brought it down at the 
 time of their assault. Onias, the planner of 
 the attack, for which he was to be repaid 
 with the proeuratorship of Judea, had placed 
 me in the spot where ruin was to begin, and 
 cheered his dying moments with the certain- 
 ty that, acquitted or not, there I must be un- 
 done. 
 
 I long lay confused and powerless among 
 the ruins. But the twilight air revived me ; 
 and I crept through the deserted intrench- 
 ments of the enemy, until I reached one of 
 the gates; where I announced my name, and 
 was received with rejoicings. 
 
 The heart of my countrymen was heroic 
 to the last, and deeply was its heroism now 
 demanded ; for the whole force of the enemy 
 had been brought up for final assault ; and 
 when I entered, every portion of the walls 
 was the scene of unexampled battle. Where 
 the ground suffered the approach of troops, 
 the enemy’s columns, headed by archers and 
 slingers innumerable, rushed to the rampart, 
 climbing up the breaches with their shields 
 over their heads. Against the towers were 
 wheeled towers filled with troops, who de- 
 scended on the wall, and fought us hand to 
 hand. We felt the perpetual blows of the 
 battering-rams shaking the battlements under 
 our feet. Where the ground repelled direct 
 assault, there military machines poured 
 havoc, and those were the most dreadful of 
 all. 
 
 The skill of man, exerted for ages on the 
 arts of compendious slaughter, has scarcely 
 produced the equals of those horrible engines. 
 They threw masses of inextinguishable fire, 
 of boiling water, of burning oil, of red-hot 
 flints, of molten metal, from distances that 
 precluded defence, and with a force that 
 nothing could resist. The catapult shot 
 stones of a hundred weight from the distance 
 of furlongs, with the straightness of an arrow, 
 and with an impulse that ground every thing 
 in their way to powder. The fortitude that 
 
 scorned the Roman spear, and exulted in the 
 sight of the columns mounting the scaling 
 ladders, as mounting to sure destruction, 
 quailed before the tremendous power of the 
 catapult. The singular and ominous cry of 
 the watcher that gave notice of its discharge, 
 “ The son cometh,” was a sound that pros- 
 trated every man upon his face, until the 
 crash of the walls told that the blow was 
 given. 
 
 Every thought that I had now for earth 
 was in the tower of Antonia. But there the 
 legions rendered approach impossible ; and I 
 could only gaze from a distance, and see, in 
 the bitterness of my soul, the enemy gradu- 
 ally forcing their way from rampart to ram- 
 part. It was in vain that I strove to collect 
 a few who would aid me in a desperate at- 
 tempt to succor its defenders. I was ieft 
 alone ; and sadly sitting on the battlements, 
 I took the chance of some friendly spear or 
 stone. Through all the roar I heard the 
 voice of Sabat the Ishmaelite ; the eternal 
 “ Woe ! — woe ! — woe !” loud as ever, and in 
 appalling unison with the hour. He came 
 rushing along the wall with the same rapid 
 and vigorous stride as of old ; but his be- 
 trothed no longer followed him. She was 
 borne in his arms ! The stones from the en- 
 gines thundered against the wall ; they tore 
 up the strong buttresses like weeds; they 
 struck away whole ranks of men, and whirled 
 their remnants through the air. They lev- 
 eled towers, and swept battlements away 
 with their defenders at a blow. But Sabat 
 moved unshrinking on his wild mission. His 
 cry vvas terrible prophecy. “ A voice from 
 the east, a voice from the west, a voice from 
 the four winds, a voice against Jerusalem 
 and the holy house, a voice against the bride- 
 grooms and the brides, a voice against this 
 whole people.” 
 
 He stopped before me ; and pointing to the 
 face of his bride, said, with sudden faltering 
 and tears, “She is gone, she is dead. She 
 died last twilight. I promised to die too. 
 She follows me no more ; it is I that must 
 follow her.” Death was in his face ; and 
 my only wonder was, that a form so utterly 
 reduced could live and move. I offered him 
 some provision from the basket of a dead sol- 
 dier at my feet. For the first time, he took 
 it, thanked me, and ate. Not less to my sur- 
 prise, he continued gazing round him on the 
 movements of the enemy, on the temple, the 
 tower of Antonia, and the hills. But his sta- 
 tion was eminently perilous, and I pointed 
 out one of the largest of the military engines 
 taking its position to play upon the spot where 
 we were. He refused to stir. “ The look 
 may be long,” said he, “ when a man looks 
 his last.” I heard the roar of the engine, and 
 leaped from the rampart, to escape the dis- 
 
202 
 
 Salalhiel. 
 
 charge. Sabat stood, and again began his 
 cry : “ Woe to the city, and to the holy house, 
 and to the people.” The discharge tore up a 
 large portion of the battlement. Sabat never 
 moved limb nor feature. The wall was cut 
 away on his right and left, as if it had been 
 cut with an axe. He stood calmly on the 
 projecting fragment, with his lips to the lips 
 of his bride. I saw the engine leveled again, 
 and again called to him to escape. He gave 
 me no answer but a melancholy smile ; and 
 crying out with a voice that filled the air, 
 “ Woe, to myself!” stood. I heard the rush 
 of the stone. It smote Sabat and his bride 
 into atoms ! 
 
 The fall of our illustrious and unhappy city 
 was supernatural. The destruction of the 
 conquered was against the first principles of 
 Roman polity; and, to the last hour of our 
 national existence, Rome held out offers of 
 peace, and lamented our frantic determina- 
 tion to be undone. But the decree was gone 
 forth from a mightier throne. During the 
 latter days of the seige, a hostility to which 
 that of man was as the grain of sand to the 
 tempest that drives it on, overpowered our 
 strength and senses. Fearful shapes and 
 voices in the air ; visions startling us from 
 our short and troubled sleep ; lunacy in its 
 most hideous forms; sudden death in the 
 midst of vigor ; the fury of the elements let 
 loose upon our unsheltered heads; we had 
 every terror and evil that could beset human 
 nature, but pestilence; the most probable of 
 all in a city crowded with the famishing, the 
 diseased, the wounded, and the dead. Yet, 
 though the streets were covered with the un- 
 buried ; though every wall and trench was 
 teeming; though six hundred thousand 
 corpses lay flung over the rampart, and 
 naked to the sun — pestilence came not ; for 
 if it had come, the enemy would have been 
 scared away. But the “ abomination of deso- 
 lation,” the pagan standard, was fixed : 
 where it was to remain until the plough 
 passed over the ruins of Jerusalem ! 
 
 On this night, this fatal night, no man laid 
 his head upon his pillow. Heaven and earth 
 were in conflict. Meteors burned above us; 
 the ground shook under our feet; the volcano 
 blazed ; the wind burst forth in irresistible 
 blasts, and swept the living and the dead in 
 whirlwinds far into the desert. We heard 
 the bellowing of the distant Mediterranean, 
 as if its waters were at our side, swelled by 
 a new deluge. The lakes and rivers roared, 
 and inundated the land. The fiery sword 
 shot out tenfold fire. Showers of blood fell. 
 Thunder pealed from every quarter of the 
 heaven. Lightning in immense sheets, of 
 an intensity and duration that turned the 
 darkness into more than day, withering eye 
 and soul, burned from the zenith to the 
 
 ground, and marked its track by forests on 
 flame, and the shattered summits of the 
 hills. 
 
 Defence was unthought of : for the mortal 
 enemy had past from the mind. Our hearts 
 quaked for fear. But it was, to see the pow- 
 ers of heaven shaken.. All cast away the 
 shield and the spear, and crouched before the 
 descending judgment. We were conscience- 
 smitten. Our cries of remorse, anguish, and 
 horror, were heard through the uproar of the 
 storm. We howled to the caverns to hide 
 us: we plunged into the sepulchres to es- 
 cape the wrath that consumed the living ; 
 we would have buried ourselves under the 
 mountains. 
 
 I knew the cause, the unspeakable cause; 
 and knew that the last hour of crime was at 
 hand. A few fugitives, astonished to see one 
 man among them not sunk into the lowest 
 feebleness of fear, came round me, and be- 
 sought me to lead them to some place of 
 safety, if such were now to be found on earth. 
 I told them openly, that they were to die; 
 and counseled them to die in the hallowed 
 ground of the Temple. They followed ; and 
 I led them, through streets encumbered with 
 every shape of human suffering, to the foot 
 of Mount Moriah. But beyond that, we found 
 advance impossible. Piles of cloud, whose 
 darkness was palpable even in the midnight 
 in which we stood, covered the holy hill. 
 Impatient, and not to be daunted by any thing 
 that man could overcome, 1 cheered my dis- 
 heartened band, and attempted to lead the 
 way up the ascent. But I had scarcely en- 
 tered the cloud, when I was swept downward 
 by a gust, that tore the rocks in a flinty 
 shower round me. 
 
 Now came the last and most wonderoaa 
 sign that marked the fate of rejected Israel. 
 
 While I lay helpless, I heard the whirl- 
 wind roar through the cloudy hill ; and the 
 vapors began to revolve. A pale light, like 
 that of the rising moon, quivered on their 
 edges; and the clouds rose, and rapidly 
 shaped themselves into the forms of battle- 
 ments and towers. The sound of voices was 
 heard within, low and distant, yet strangely 
 sweet. Still the lustre brightened, and the 
 airy building rose, tower on tower, and bat- 
 tlement on battlement. In awe that held us 
 mute, we knelt and gazed upon this more 
 than mortal architecture, that continued ris- 
 ing and spreading, and glowing with aserener 
 light, still soft and silvery, yet to which the 
 broadest moon-beam was dim. At last, it 
 stood forth to earth and heaven the colossal 
 image of the first Temple, of the building 
 raised by the wisest of men, and consecrated 
 by the visible glory. All Jerusalem saw the 
 image ; and the shout that in the midst of 
 their despair ascended from its thousands and 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 203 
 
 tens of thousands, told what proud remem- 
 brances were there. But a hymn was heard, 
 that might have hushed the world beside. 
 Never fell on my ear, never on the human 
 sense, a sound so majestic, yet so subduing; 
 so full of melancholy, yet of grandeur and 
 command. The vast portal opened, and from 
 it marched a host, such as man had never 
 seen before, such as man shall never see but 
 once again ; the guardian angels of the city 
 of David ! — they came forth glorious ; but 
 with woe in all their steps ; the stars upon 
 their helmets dim ; their robes stained ; tears 
 flowing down their celestial beauty. “ Let 
 us go hence,” was their song of sorrow. “ Let 
 us go hence,” was answered by the sad echoes 
 of the mountains. “ Let us go hence,” swell- 
 ed upon the night, to the farthest limits of 
 the land. The procession lingered long on 
 the summit of the hill. The thunder pealed ; 
 and they rose at the command, diffusing waves 
 of light over the expanse of heaven. Their 
 chorus was heard, still magnificent and melan- 
 choly, when their splendor was diminished to 
 the brightness of a star. Then the thunder 
 roared again ; the cloudy temple was scat- 
 tered on the winds; and darkness, the omen 
 of her grave, settled upon Jerusalem. 
 
 I was roused from deep reverie by the 
 voice of a man. “ What !” said he, “ sitting 
 here, when all the world is awake! Poring 
 over the faces of dead men, when you should 
 be the foremost among the living! All Jeru- 
 salem in arms ; and yet you scorn your time 
 to gain laurels!” The haughty and sarcastic 
 tone was familiar to my recollection ; but to 
 see, as I did, a Roman soldier within a few 
 feet of me, was enough to make me spring 
 up, and draw my scimetar, careless of con- 
 sequences. “ You ought to know me,” said 
 he, without moving a muscle; “for, though 
 it is some years since we met, we have not 
 . been often asunder. And so, here you have 
 been sitting these twelve hours among corpses, 
 to no better purpose than losing your time 
 and your memory together !” 
 
 I looked round; the sun was in his meri- 
 dian ! The little band that I had led to the 
 foot of the mountain, were lying dead, to a 
 man. 
 
 “ Are you not a Roman !” I exclaimed. 
 
 “No; but 1 conclude that nearly as much 
 absurdity and mischief may be committed 
 under these trappings as under any other ; 
 and therefore I wear them. But you may 
 change with me if you like. This cuirass 
 and falchion will help you to money, riot, vio- 
 lence, and vice ; and what more do nine- 
 tenths of mankind ask for in their souls! 
 Take my offer, and you will be on the win- 
 ning side ; another thing that men like. But 
 be expeditious; for before this sun dips his 
 forehead in the Asphaltites, the bloodshed and 
 
 14 
 
 robbery will be over.” His laugh, as he ut- 
 tered the words, was bitterness itself; and I 
 felt my flesh instinctively shudder. But a 
 glance towards the Temple told me that the 
 words were true. The legions had forced 
 their way to the foot of the third and weakest 
 rampart, which I saw flying in pieces under 
 the blows of the battering-rams. They must 
 have marched by the very spot where I sat 
 since midnight ; and I probably escaped only 
 by being taken for one of the dead. I wrung 
 my hands in agony. He burst into a wild 
 roar of derision. “ What fools you lords of 
 the creation are ! What is the loss of life 
 to the naked wretches that you see running 
 about like frightened children on those bat- 
 tlements! or to the clothed wretches that 
 you see ready to massacre them for the honor 
 and glory of a better-clothed wretch ! — a din- 
 ner too much will revenge them on the em- 
 peror of the earth. The spear or the arrow 
 comes; and quick as thought their troubles 
 are at end. Man! — the true misery is to 
 live, and be constrained to live, to feel the 
 wants, wearinesses, and weaknesses of life, 
 yet to drag on existence ; to be — what I 
 am.” 
 
 He tore the helmet from his forehead, and 
 with a start of inward pain flung it to a mea- 
 sureless distance in the air. In amaze and 
 terror, I beheld Epiphanes ! The same Greek 
 countenance, the same kingly presence, the 
 same strength and heroic stature, and the 
 same despair, were before me, that in the 
 early years of my woe I had seen on the 
 shores of the Dead Sea. “ I told you,” said 
 he, with a sudden return to calmness, “ that 
 this day would come. And to tell you so, re- 
 quired no spirit of prophecy. There is a time 
 for all things; long-suffering among the rest; 
 and your countrymen had long ago come to 
 that time. But, one grand hope was still to 
 be given ; they cast it from them ! Ages on 
 ages shall pass, before they learn the loftiness 
 of that hope, or fulfil the punishment of that 
 rejection. Yet, in the fulness of time, shall 
 the light break in upon their darkness. They 
 shall ask, Why are we the despised, the 
 branded, the trampled, the abjured of all na- 
 tions! Why are the barbarian and the civil- 
 ized alike our oppressors! Why do contend- 
 ing faiths join in crushing us alone ! Why 
 do realms distant as the ends of the earth, 
 and diverse as day and night, — alike those 
 who have heard our history, and those who 
 have never heard of us but as the sad so- 
 journers of the earth, — unite in one cry of 
 scorn ! And what is the universal voice of 
 nature, but the voice of the King of na- 
 ture!” 
 
 I listened in reverence to language that 
 pierced my heart with an intense power of 
 truth, yet with a pang that made me writhe. 
 
204 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 I longed, yet dreaded, to hear again the 
 searching and lofty accents of this being of 
 unwilling wisdom. “Man of terrible know- 
 ledge,” said 1, “ canst thou tell for what 
 crime this judgment shall come?” 
 
 His mighty brow was stooped in solemn 
 fear, and his features quivered, as he slowly 
 spoke. “ Their crime ! There is no name 
 for it. The spirits of Heaven weep when 
 they think of it. The spirits of the abyss 
 tremble. Man alone, the man of Judea alone, 
 could commit that horror of horrors.” 
 
 He paused and prostrated himself at the 
 words. Then rising, rapidly uttered — 
 “ Judge of the crime by its punishment. 
 From the beginning Israel was stubborn, and 
 his stubbornness brought him to sorrow. He 
 rebelled, and he was warned by the captivity 
 of a monarch, or the slaughter of a tribe. He 
 sinned more deeply, for he was the slave of 
 impurity; then was his kingdom divided; 
 yet a few years saw him powerful once more. 
 He sinned more deeply still ; for he sought 
 the worship of idols. Then came his deeper 
 
 { mnishment, in the fall of his throne, and the 
 ong captivity of his people. But even Baby- 
 lon sent back the forgiven to his throne. 
 
 “ Happy, I say to you, happy will be the 
 hour for Israel — for mankind — for creation ; 
 when he shall take into his hands the records 
 of his fathers, and in tears and prayers ask — 
 What is that greater crime than rebellion ? 
 than blasphemy 1 than impurity ! than idola- 
 try ! which not seventy years, nor a thousand 
 ears of sorrow have seen forgiven ; which 
 as prolonged his woe into the old age of the 
 world — which threatens him with a chain not 
 to be broken but by the thunder-stroke that 
 breaks up the universe !” 
 
 “ And still,” said I, trembling, and subdued 
 before the living oracle — “still is there 
 hope 1” 
 
 “ Look to that mountain,” was the answer, 
 as he pointed to Moriah. Its side, covered 
 with the legions advancing to the assault, 
 shone and waved in the sun like a tide of 
 burning brass. “ It is now a sight of splendid 
 evil !” exclaimed he. “ But upon that moun- 
 tain shall yet be enthroned a Sovereign, be- 
 fore whom the sun shall hide his head, and 
 at the lifting of whose sceptre heaven and 
 the heaven of heavens shall bow down ! To 
 that mountain shall man, and more than man, 
 crowd for wisdom and happiness. From that 
 mountain shall light flow to the ends of the 
 universe ; and the government shall be to the 
 Everlasting.” 
 
 The roar of the assault began, and my 
 awful companion was recalled to the world. 
 
 “ I must see the end of this battle,” said he, 
 in his old mixture of sarcasm and melancholy. 
 “Man’s natural talent for making himself 
 miserable may go far, but he is still the better 
 
 for a teacher. On the top of that hill there 
 are twenty thousand men panting for each 
 other’s blood, like tigers; and yet without 
 me, they would leave the grand business un- 
 done after all.” 
 
 “ But one word more,” I cried, giving my 
 last look to the tower of Antonia, on which 
 the eagle now, glittered. 
 
 He anticipated me. “ They are all safe — 
 they are in the hands of Septimius, who will 
 deal with them as become love and honor. 
 He solicited the command, that he might 
 provide for their security. They comfort 
 themselves with the hope that you will return. 
 But return you will never. They will be 
 happy in the hope — until sorrow is too long 
 shut out to find room when it comes; they 
 love you and will love you long ; but there 
 is an end of all things. And now farewell.” 
 
 “ And now, onward,” said I. “ But every 
 spot is crowded with the Roman columns. 
 How am I to pass those spears 1” 
 
 He laughed wildly, flung his arm round 
 me, as of old ; and ran, with the speed of a 
 stag, round the foot of the hill, to an unob- 
 structed side. The ascent was nearly per- 
 pendicular; but he bounded up the crags 
 without drawing a breath, placed me on a 
 battlement, and was gone. 
 
 Below me war raged in its boundless fury. 
 The enemy had forced their way ; and the 
 exasperated Jews, contemptuous of life, fought 
 them with the rage of wild beasts. When 
 the lance was broke, the knife was the wea- 
 pon ; when the knife failed, they tore with 
 their hands and teeth. Masses of stones, 
 torches, even dead bodies, every thing that 
 could minister to destruction, were hurled 
 from the roofs on the assailants, who were 
 often repulsed with deadly havoc. But they 
 still made way ; the courts of the Gentiles, 
 of the Israelites, and of the priests, were suc- 
 cessfully stormed ; and the legions at length 
 established themselves in front of the inner 
 Temple. A scream of wrath and agony at 
 the possible profanation of the Holy of Holies, 
 rose from the multitude. I leaped from the 
 battlement, and showing myself to the peo- 
 ple, demanded “who would follow me!” 
 The crowd exulted at the sight of their well- 
 known chieftain ; and in the impulses of the 
 moment we rushed on the enemy, and drove 
 them from the court of the sanctuary. Start- 
 led by the sudden reverse, the Roman gene- 
 rals renewed their proposal for a surrender, 
 and Titus himself, at the most imminent haz- 
 ard, forced his way to the portal, and be- 
 sought me to surrender and save the Tem- 
 ple. 
 
 But Jerusalem was marked for ruin 
 While I was in the very act of checking the 
 shower of spears, I heard the voice of one of 
 those extraordinary beings who, by mad pre- 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 205 
 
 dictions of the certain succor of Heaven, kept 
 up the resistance while there was a man to 
 be slaughtered. He was standing on the 
 roof of a vast cloister, surrounded by a crowd 
 of unfortunate men, whom his false prophecies 
 were infuriating against the offer of life. I 
 recognized the impostor, by whom the Ro- 
 man mission had been destroyed. The le- 
 gionaries pointed in vain to the flames already 
 rising round the cloisters. But the predic- 
 tions grew bolder still, and the words of truce 
 were answered by showers of missiles. The 
 flames suddenly burst out through the roof; 
 and the whole of its defenders, to the number 
 of thousands, sank into the conflagration. 
 When I looked round after the shock, the 
 impostor, without a touch of fire on his rai- 
 ment, was haranguing in a distant quarter, 
 and, man or fiend, urging the multitude to 
 their fate ! 
 
 This was the day of days, the ninth day of 
 the month of Ab, the anniversary of the burn- 
 ing of the Temple by the king of Babylon. 
 One thousand one hundred and thirty years 
 seven mont'hs and fifteen days were past, 
 from its foundation by our great King Solo- 
 mon ! My attack had repelled the legion- 
 aries ; and Titus, exhausted and dispirited, 
 began to withdraw the routed columns from 
 the front of the Temple. It was the fifth 
 hour: the sun was scorching up their 
 strength; and I looked proudly forward to 
 victory and the preservation of the Temple. 
 
 As I was standing on the portal of the 
 court of the sanctuary, and gazing at the 
 march of the defeated troops towards the 
 tower of Antonia, I heard the voice of the 
 Demoniac close to my ear. “ I told you that 
 this day would end in nothing without me.” 
 
 I turned, but he was already far away among 
 the crowd ; and before I could even speak, I 
 saw him, torch in hand, bound into the Gold- 
 en window beside the vail of the Holy place. 
 The inner Temple was instantly in a blaze. 
 Our cries, and the sight of the flames, brought 
 back the enemy at full speed. 1 saw that 
 the fatal hour was come; and, collecting a 
 few brave rnen, took my post before the vail 
 of the Portico, to guard the entrance with my 
 blood. 
 
 But the legions rushed onward, crying out, 
 that “ they were led by the Fates,” and that 
 “the God of the Jews had given his people 
 and city into their hands.” The torrent was 
 irresistible. Titus rushed in at its head, ex- 
 claiming, that “the Divinity alone could have 
 given the strong-hold into his power, for it 
 was beyond the hope and strength of man.” 
 My devoted companions were torn down in 
 an instant. I was forced back to the veil of 
 the Holy of Holies, fighting at random in the 
 midst of the legionaries, who now saw no 
 enemies but each other. In the fury of plun- 
 
 der, they deluged the Portico and the Sanc- 
 tuary with mutual blood. 
 
 The golden table of Pompey, the golden 
 vine, trophies of Herod, were instantly torn 
 away. Subordination was lost. The troops 
 trampled upon their officers. Titus himself 
 was saved only by cutting his way through 
 those madmen. But I longed to die ; and 
 give my last breath, and the last drop of my 
 veins, to the seat of Sanctity and Glory — I 
 fought — I taunted — I heaped loud scorn and 
 reprobation on the profaners — I was covered 
 from head to foot with gore ; but it was from 
 the hearts of Romans — I toiled for death; but 
 I remained without a wound. Yet, woe to 
 the life that came within the sweep of my 
 scimetar. The last blow that I struck was 
 at an impious hand, put forth to grasp the 
 veil that shuts the Holy of Holies from the 
 human gaze. The hand flew from the body; 
 and the spoiler fell groaning at my feet. He 
 sent up an expiring look, and I knew the 
 countenance of my persecutor, Cestius. 
 
 But a new enemy was come, conqueror 
 alike of the victor and the vanquished — fire. 
 
 1 heard its roar round the sanctuary. The 
 Romans, appalled, fled to the portal ; but they 
 were doomed.. A wall of fire stood before 
 them. They rushed back, tore down the 
 veil, and the Holy of Holies stood open. 
 
 The blaze melted the plates of the roof, in 
 a golden shower above me. It calcined the 
 marble floor ; it dissipated in vapor the ines- 
 timable gems that studded the walls. All 
 who entered, lay turned to ashes. So perish 
 the profaners ! But on the sacred Ark the 
 flame had no povver. It whirled and swept 
 in a red orb round the untouched symbol of 
 the throne of thrones. Still I lived ; but I 
 felt my strength giving way : the heat with- 
 ered my sinews — the flame extinguished my 
 sight. I sank upon the threshold, rejoicing 
 that death was inevitable. Then, once again, 
 
 I heard the words of terror : “ Tarry thou 
 till I come.” The world disappeared from 
 before me. 
 
 Here I pause. I had undergone that por- 
 tion of my career which was to be passed 
 among my people. My life as a father, hus- 
 band, citizen, was at an end. Thenceforth I 
 was to be a solitary man. My fate had yet 
 scarcely fallen upon me ; but I was now to 
 feel it, in the disruption of every gentler tie 
 that held me to life. I was to make my couch 
 with the savage, the outcast, and the slave. 
 1 was to see the ruin of the mighty, and the 
 overthrow of empires. Yet, in the tumult 
 that changed the face of the world, I was still 
 to live and be unchanged. Every sterner 
 passion that disturbs our nature was to reign 
 
206 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 in successive tyranny over my soul. And 
 fearfully was the decree fulfilled. 
 
 In revenge for the fall of Jerusalem, I tra- 
 versed the globe to seek out an enemy of 
 Rome. I found in the northern snows a man 
 of blood : I stirred up the soul of Alaric, and 
 led him to the sack of Rome. In revenge 
 for the insults heaped upon the Jew by the 
 dotards and dastards of the city of Constan- 
 tine, I sought out an instrument of compen- 
 dious ruin : I found him in the Arabian sands, 
 and poured ambition into the soul of the en- 
 thusiast of Mecca. In revenge for the pollu- 
 tion of the ruins of the Temple, I roused the 
 iron tribes of the west, and at the head of the 
 crusaders expelled the Saracens. I fed full 
 on the revenge, and I felt the misery of re- 
 venge ! 
 
 A passion for the mysteries of nature seized 
 me. I toiled with the alchemist ; I wore 
 away years in perplexities of the schoolmen ; 
 and I felt the guilt and emptiness of unlawful 
 knowledge ! 
 
 A passion for human fame seized me. I 
 drew my sword in the Italian wars: tri- 
 umphed ; was a monarch ; and learned to 
 curse the hour when I first dreamed of fame! 
 
 A passion for gold seized me. I felt the 
 gnawing of avarice — the last infirmity of the 
 fallen mind. Wealth earne to my wish and 
 to my torment. In the midst of royal trea- 
 sures, I was poorer than the poorest. Days 
 and nights of misery were the gift of avarice. 
 
 I felt within me — the undying worm. In 
 my passion, I longed for regions where the 
 hand of man had never rifled the mine. I 
 found a bold Genoese, and led him to the dis- 
 covery of a new world. With its metals I 
 inundated the old ; and to my own misery, 
 added the misery of two hemispheres ! 
 
 But the circle of the passions, a circle of 
 fire, was not to surround my fated steps for 
 ever. Calmer and nobler aspirations were 
 to rise in my melancholy heart. I saw the 
 birth of true science, true liberty, and true 
 wisdom. I lived with Petrarch, among his 
 glorious relics of the genius of Greece and 
 Rome. 1 stood enraptured beside the easel 
 of Angelo and Raphael. I conversed with 
 the merchant-kings of the Mediterranean. I 
 stood at Mentz, beside the wonder-working 
 machine that makes knowledge imperishable, 
 and sends it with winged speed through the 
 earth. At the pulpit of the mighty man of 
 Wirtemberg, I knelt; Israelite as I was, and 
 am — I did voluntary homage to the mind of 
 Luther! 
 
 But I must close these thoughts, as wan- 
 dering as the steps of my pilgrimage. I 
 have more to tell; strange, magnificent, and 
 sad. 
 
 But I must wait the impulse of my heart. 
 Or, can the happy and the high-born, tread- 
 ing upon roses, have an ear for the story of 
 the Exile, whose path has for a thousand 
 years been in the brier and the thorn ! 
 
 
Salathiel. 
 
 207 
 
 As there is room here for a few more pages, the following articles 
 are added. They possess much interest in connection with the 
 singular being whose history is given in the foregoing work. 
 
 THE MAGICIAN’S VISITER. 
 
 BY HENRY NEELE, ESQ. 
 
 It was at the close of a fine autumnal day, 
 and the shades of evening 1 were beginning to 
 gather over the city of Florence, when a low 
 quick rap was heard at the door of Cornelius 
 Agrippa, and shortly afterwards a stranger 
 was introduced into the apartment in which 
 the philosopher was sitting at his studies. 
 
 The stranger, although finely formed, and 
 of courteous demeaner, had a certain indefin- 
 able air of mystery about him, which excited 
 awe, if, indeed, it had not a repellent effect. 
 His years it was difficult to guess, for the 
 marks of youth and age were blended in his 
 features in a most extraordinary manner. 
 There was not a furrow in his cheek, or a 
 wrinkle on his brow, and his large black eye 
 beamed with all the brilliancy, and vivacity 
 of youth ; but his stately figure was bent, ap- 
 parently beneath the weight of years ; his 
 hair, although thick and clustering, was 
 grey; and his voice was feeble and tremu- 
 lous, yet its tones were of the most ravishing 
 and soul-searching melody. His costume 
 was that of a Florentine gentleman ; but he 
 held a staff like that of a palmer, in his hand, 
 and a silken sash, inscribed with oriental 
 characters, was bound round his waist. His 
 face was deadly pale ; but every feature of 
 it was singularly beautiful, and its expression 
 was that of profound wisdom, mingled with 
 poignant sorrow. 
 
 “ Pardon me, learned sir,” said he, ad- 
 dressing the philosopher, “ but your fame has 
 travelled into all lands, and has reached all 
 ears, and I could not leave the fair city of 
 Florence without seeking an interview with 
 one of its greatest boasts and ornaments.” 
 
 “ You are right welcome, sir,” returned 
 Agrippa; “ but I fear that your trouble and 
 curiosity will be but ill repaid. I am simply 
 one, who, instead of devoting my days, as do 
 the wise, to the acquirement of wealth and 
 honor, have passed long years in painful and 
 unprofitable study, in endeavoring to unravel 
 the secrets of nature, and initiating myself 
 into the mysteries of the occult sciences.” 
 
 “Talkest thou of long years !” echoed the 
 stranger, and a melancholy smile played over 
 his features : — “ thou, who hast scarcely seen 
 fourscore since thou left’st thy cradle, and 
 for whom the quiet grave is now waiting, 
 eager to clasp thee in her sheltering arms ! I 
 was among the tombs to-day — the still and 
 
 solemn tombs: I saw them smiling in the 
 last beams of the setting sun. When I was 
 a boy, 1 used to wish to be like the sun ; his 
 career was so long, so bright, so glorious. 
 But to-night I thought ‘ it is better to slumber 
 among those tombs than to be like him.’ To 
 night he sank behind the hills, apparently to 
 repose, but to-morrow he must renew his 
 course, and run the same dull and unvaried 
 but toilsome and unquiet race. There is no 
 grave for him, and the night and morning 
 dews are the tears that he sheds over his ty- 
 rannous destiny.” 
 
 Agrippa was a deep observer and admirer 
 of external nature and of all her phenomena, 
 and had often gazed upon the scene which 
 the stranger described, but the feelings and 
 ideas which it awakened in the mind of the 
 latter were so different from any thing which 
 he had himself experienced, that he could 
 not help, for a season, gazing upon him in 
 speechless wonder. His guest, however, 
 speedily resumed the discourse. 
 
 “ But I trouble you, I trouble you ; — to my 
 purpose in making you this visit. I have 
 heard strange tales of a wondrous mirror, 
 which your potent art has enabled you to con- 
 struct, in Which whosoever looks may see 
 the distant or the dead, on whom he is de- 
 sirous again to fix his gaze. My eyes see 
 nothing in this outward visible world which 
 can be pleasing to their sight. The grave 
 has closed over all I loved. Time has car- 
 ried down its stream every thing that once 
 contributed to my enjoyment. The world is 
 a vale of tears, but among all the tears which 
 water that sad valley, not one is shed for me ; 
 the fountain in my own heart, too, is dried 
 up. I would once again look upon the face 
 which I loved. I would see that eye more 
 bright, and that step more stately than the 
 antelope’s; that brow, the broad smooth page 
 on which God had inscribed his fairest char- 
 acters. I would gaze on all I loved and all 
 I lost. Such a gaze would be dearer to my 
 heart than all that the world has to offer me 
 — except the grave, except the grave.” 
 
 The passionate pleading of the stranger 
 had such an effect upon Agrippa (who was 
 not used to exhibit his miracle of art to the 
 eyes of all who desired to look in it, although 
 he was often tempted by exorbitant presents 
 and high honors to do so) that he readily con- 
 
208 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 sented to grant the request of his extraor- 
 dinary visiter. 
 
 “ Whom wouldst thou see!” he inquired. 
 
 “ My child, my own sweet Miriam,” an- 
 swered the stranger. 
 
 Cornelius immediately caused every ray of 
 the light of heaven to be excluded from the 
 chamber, placed the stranger on his right 
 hand, and commenced chanting, in a low soft 
 tone, and in a strange language, some lyrical 
 verses, to which the stranger thought he had 
 heard occasionally a response, but it was a 
 sound so faint and indistinct, that he hardly 
 knew whether it existed any where but in 
 his own fancy. As Cornelius continued his 
 chant, the room gradually became illuminated, 
 but whence the light proceeded it was im- 
 possible to discover. At length the stranger 
 plainly perceived a large mirror which cov- 
 ered the whole of the extreme end of the 
 apartment, and over the surface of which a 
 dense haze or cloud seemed to be rapidly 
 passing. 
 
 “Died she in wedlock’s holy bands!” in- 
 quired Cornelius. 
 
 “ She was a virgin spotless as the snow.” 
 
 “ How many years have passed away since 
 the grave closed over her?” 
 
 A cloud gathered on the stranger’s brow, 
 and he answered somewhat impatiently — 
 “ Many, many ; more than I now have time 
 to number.” 
 
 “ Nay,” said Agrippa, “ but I must know. 
 For every ten years that have elapsed since 
 her death, once must I wave this wand ; and 
 when I have waved it for the last time, you 
 will see her figure in yon mirror.” 
 
 “Wave on, then,” said the stranger, and 
 groaned bitterly : “ wave on, and take heed 
 that thou be not weary.” 
 
 Cornelius Agrippa gazed on his strange 
 guest with something of anger, but he ex- 
 cused his want of courtesy on the ground of 
 the probable extent of his calamities. He 
 then waved his magic wand many times, but 
 to his consternation, it seemed to have lost 
 its virtue. Turning again to the stranger, he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 “Who, and what art thou, man? Thy 
 presence troubles me. According to all the 
 rules of my art, this wand has already des- 
 cribed twice two hundred years — still has the 
 surface of the mirror experienced no altera- 
 tion. Say, dost thou mock me, and did no 
 such person ever exist as thou hast described 
 to me?” 
 
 “ Wave on, wave on !” was the stern and 
 only reply which this interrogatory extracted 
 from the stranger. 
 
 The curiosity of Agrippa, although he was 
 himself a dealer in wonders, began now to 
 be excited, and a mysterious feeling of awe 
 forbade him to desist from waving his wand, 
 
 much as he doubted the sincerity of his visiter. 
 As his arm grew slack, he heard the deep 
 solemn tones of the stranger exclaiming, 
 “ Wave on, wave on !” and at length, after 
 his wand, according to the calculations of his 
 art, had described a period of above twelve 
 hundred years, the cloud cleared away from 
 the surface of the mirror, and the stranger, 
 with an exclamation of delight, arose, and 
 gazed rapturously upon the scene which was 
 there represented. 
 
 An exquisitely rich and romantic prospect 
 was before him. In the distance rose lofty 
 mountains crowned with cedars ; a rapid 
 stream rose in the middle, and in the fore- 
 ground was seen camels grazing ; a rill trick- 
 ling by, in which some sheep were quenching 
 their thirst, and a lofty palm-tree, beneath 
 whose shade a young female of exquisite 
 beauty, and richly habited in the costume of 
 the East, was sheltering herself from the rays 
 of the noontide sun. 
 
 “ ’Tis she ! ’tis she !” shouted the stranger ; 
 and he was rushing towards the mirror, but 
 was prevented by Cornelius, who said: 
 
 “ Forbear, rash man, to quit this spot ! with 
 each step that thou advancest towards the 
 mirror, the image will become fainter, and 
 shouldst thou approach too near, it will vanish 
 away entirely.” 
 
 Thus warned, he resumed his station, but 
 his agitation was so excessive, that he was 
 obliged to lean on the arm of the philosopher 
 for support, while, from time to time, he ut- 
 tered incoherent expressions of wonder, de- 
 light, and lamentation. “ ’Tis she ! ’tis she ! 
 even as she looked while living ! How 
 beautiful she is ! Miriam, my child, can’st 
 thou not speak to me? — Oh Heaven, she 
 moves ! she smiles ! Oh speak to me a single 
 word ! or only breathe, or sigh ! Alas ! all’s 
 silent — dull and desolate as this heart ! Again 
 that smile ! — that smile, the remembrance of 
 which a thousand winters have not been able 
 to freeze up in my heart! Old man, it is in 
 vain to hold me ! I must, I will clasp her !” 
 
 As he uttered the last words, he rushed 
 frantically towards the mirror — the scene 
 represented within it faded away — the cloud 
 gathered again over its surface, — and the 
 stranger sunk senseless on the earth. 
 
 When he recovered his consciousness he 
 found himself in the arms of Agrippa, who 
 was chafing his. temples and gazing on him 
 with looks of wonder and fear. lie imme- 
 diately rose on his feet, with restored strength, 
 and pressing the hand of his host, he said : 
 “Thanks, thanks, for thy courtesy and thy 
 kindness, and for thp sweet but painful sight 
 which thou hast presented to my eyes.” As 
 he spake these words, he put a purse into 
 the hands of Cornelius, but the latter returned 
 it, saying, “ Nay, nay, keep thy gold, friend. 
 
Salat hid. 
 
 209 
 
 I know not, indeed, that a Christian man dare 
 take it ; but be that as it may, I shall esteem 
 myself sufficiently repaid if thou will tell me 
 who thou art.” 
 
 “Behold!” said the stranger, pointing to 
 a large historical picture which hung on the 
 left hand of the room. 
 
 “ I see,” said the philosopher, “ an exquisite 
 work of art, the production of one of our best 
 and earliest artists, representing our Saviour 
 carrying his cross.” 
 
 “ But look again !” said the stranger, fix- 
 ing his keen dark eyes intently on him, and 
 pointing to a figure on the left hand- of the 
 picture. 
 
 Cornelius gazed, and saw with wonder 
 
 what he had not observed before — the extra- 
 ordinary resemblance which this figure bore 
 to the stranger, of whom, indeed, it might be 
 said to be a portrait. 
 
 “That.” said Cornelius, with an emotion 
 of horror, “ is intended to represent the un- 
 happy infidel who smote the divine Sufferer 
 for not walking faster, and was therefore 
 condemned to walk the earth himself, until 
 the period of that Sufferer’s second coming.” 
 
 “ ’Tis I ! ’tis 1 1” exclaimed the stranger; 
 and rushing out of the house, rapidly disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Then did Cornelius Agrippa know that he 
 had been conversing with The Wandering 
 Jew. 
 
 '*®S§§gg§§^H> 
 
 THE WANDERING JEW. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 “ Doomed for a certain time to walk.” 
 
 When our Saviour, bending beneath the 
 weight of his cross, saught to obtain a few 
 moments of repose on the door-steps of Sala- 
 thiel, the Jew, that barbarous man, with in- 
 sulting language, drove Him away, who, 
 struggling to continue his journey, became 
 overpowered by the weight of his cross, fal- 
 tered, and fell to the earth ; yet, without ut- 
 tering a groan, he arose again and went on 
 his way. The Saviour of the world, condemn- 
 ed to death by man ! and made to carry the in- 
 strument of his torture on his back, was a 
 sight which should have paled the cheek of 
 his persecutors; but they reviled — they mock- 
 ed him ! 
 
 The avenging angel appeared before Sala- 
 thiel, and said : — “ Thou hast refused a rest- 
 ing place to the son of man. Cruel wretch ! 
 All rest on earth shall be refused to thee in 
 return. A dark demon let loose from hell 
 for the purpose, shall drive thee from clime to 
 clime. Salathiel, even the hope of death, 
 and the repose of the tomb, from thee shall 
 be withheld.” These words were hissed into 
 the ear of the Jew, and he fell upon the earth 
 as if he had been struck by lightning. 
 
 Nearly two thousand years passed away ; 
 yet Salathiel was still pursued by a demon 
 over the whole face of the earth. One day 
 he arrived near the cavern of Mount Carmel, 
 and shaking the dust from his long beard, he 
 took a skull from a heap of human bones that 1 
 were piled up near him, and threw it from 
 the mountain ; it rolled and bounded, and j 
 striking against the rocks below, was shiv- 1 
 
 ered to pieces. “ It was my father’s,” said 
 Salathiel. 
 
 My parents, my friends and acquaintances; 
 my wife and my children all perished. Ah ! 
 they could die; but I, the doomed, cannot 
 die. The judgment of heaven frowns over 
 my head — my guilty head — and life, which 
 to all else is a blessing, to me is a curse.” 
 
 “ Jerusalem fell by the Roman power; fire 
 consumed the city ; palaces crumbled to the 
 ground, and the temples were as torches to 
 the maddened soldiery; men, women, and 
 children were butchered ; all , all, but me 
 alone. I courted every danger, defied legions 
 of Romans ; I rushed upon their spears, but 
 an invisible hand warded their points from 
 me ; and I was their conqueror, instead of 
 their victim. 
 
 “Rome in her turn tottered, to fall. I 
 rushed to her, that I might be buried beneath 
 her ruins : the Colossus was broken and pro- 
 strated, but it could not crush me, though the 
 wise and the great, the good and the power- 
 ful, were all destroyed with her. 
 
 “Nations, empires and kingdoms rose and 
 fell before me : I alone remained alive. Pes- 
 tilence swept over the land : I snuffed up the 
 tainted breath of the dying, and hugged the 
 dead in my arms. That which was death to 
 all, to me was a narcotic. I slept in the 
 charnel house, and awoke refreshed. Death 
 passed me in dread. 
 
 “ An avalanche fell through the air, and 
 swept me into the sea. I thought Death had 
 pitied me, and I laughed as I was carried 
 
210 
 
 Salathiel. 
 
 into the foamy waters ; but the surges threw 
 me back again on the shore, and the poison- 
 ous cup of human existence was put again, 
 in all its bitterness, to my lips. 
 
 “I went to the edge of the crater of Etna, 
 and sprang into its profound abyss, and, howl- 
 ing with madness and despair, fell into the 
 burning lava; but the mountain would not 
 grant me an asylum in the midst of its con- 
 suming bosom: it threw me up again upon 
 this sinful earth; and though the flames of 
 the eruption set fire to whole districts of 
 country, though the highest spires of the 
 greatest cities disappeared beneath the liquid 
 lava, before me the flame and the lava stayed 
 their work of destruction. A forest caught 
 the flames,— in the midst of delirium and 
 distraction, I rushed among the burning 
 trees. Hot rosin fell drop by drop upon my 
 scorching limbs; the fire raged round me; 
 the heat dried my bones; and the flames' 
 tortured me with their hissing fury. Death 
 brandished his scythe over me : I bent my 
 head to receive the blow, but at that mo- 
 ment he caught my fixed gaze, and fled to 
 destroy the good and the happy. Death was 
 no longer the conqueror — he feared me." 
 
 “ I joined the standards of the mighty war- 
 riors of the earth, — the desolators of the land, 
 the conquering heroes, the mighty butchers 
 of the human race, — and followed them in all 
 their wars. I sought the thickest of the 
 fight, where blood flowed in rivers, where! 
 men were swept away like dry sand before) 
 the hurricane, where destruction piled hun- 
 dreds upon hundreds ; yet I was left alone ! 
 
 I braved the Gaul and the Norman — I defied 
 the hordes of Germany ; but their darts and j 
 their lances broke like dry reeds against my j 
 body. The Saracen’s scimetar was shivered ! 
 to pieces when it struck at me. Balls struck 
 against me like hail, and rebounded back as! 
 from adamantine rock. Bayonet points were j 
 blunted against my side. The powder-mine i 
 exploded beneath my feet, and hurled all but 
 me into oblivion: launched into the air, I fell 
 back to the earth ; burnt limbs of mortal men 
 lay scattered around me. I arose, the living 
 from the dead, and a voice bade me on— on 
 — on, forever. 
 
 “ I wandered to the deserts of Arabia ; I 
 joined a caravan journeying to the holy city 
 ■ — it lost its way — hunger and thirst tortured 
 us, and put a brand, as it were, of hot iron 
 upon our lips. My companions fell around 
 me upon the burning sand, our beasts of bur- 
 den sank to rise no more, the simoom blew 
 its poisoned breath over the parched and ver- 
 dureless earth ; the sun’s heat dried the blood 
 in my veins. I did not die, but I suffered 
 alive, that which killed my fellow-travellers. 
 
 “ The elephant trampled me under his feet ; 
 the tiger gnawed my flesh with his iron teeth; 
 
 the anaconda drew his mighty folds around 
 my limbs, but in vain did they mangle me: a 
 voice from above cried 1 Live, Salathiel, live ! 
 Pursue thy endless journey. On — on — on, 
 forever!’ I cursed that voice, and laughter 
 mocked me — what could I do against the 
 Eternal 1 
 
 “ The giant’s club has been broken against 
 my head. The executioner’s arm has been 
 disjointed in his efforts to end my existence. 
 I have insulted despots and tyrants, that they 
 might give me death. 1 told Nero that he 
 was a monster ; Mahomet that he was an 
 impostor; the Pope th?ft he held no title from 
 heaven; the Inquisitor that his hands were 
 red with the blood of innocence and virtue— 
 (hat his power was drawn from the ignorance 
 of the people, and he was the most ignorant ; 
 I spat upon the long beard of the Grand 
 Master, and denied in his presence, the exist- 
 ence of a God ! The tyrants invented new 
 tortures : my bones cracked, my flesh quiv- 
 ered, but the blessing of death was with- 
 held. 
 
 “I cannot die — [ cannot die — even my own 
 hand was vainly tried to extinguish the ever- 
 lasting flame that burns within me. Will 
 there never be any rest for me 1 Oh ! Thou 
 who hast condemned me to this eternal pain, 
 hast thou still more tortures to inflict 1 See 
 my death-pale face, my decrepid limbs, my 
 mangled body ! Oh ! 1 am tired of seeing 
 that never-ending process of nature which 
 continually brings forth, and continually de- 
 vours. Jesus of Nazareth, pardon ! pardon ! 
 Thou art all mercy — at least thy prophets 
 preach it to the world ; have mercy then on 
 me. What is the life of a worm to thee] 
 Spurn me out of the way: crush me — kill me;” 
 and Salathiel fell with his face to the earth, 
 and for the first time shod a flood of tears. 
 
 “ Salathiel, Salathiel !” exclaimed a voice. 
 Salathiel raised his head, and saw the angel 
 of death before him. “ Salathiel !” continued 
 the angel, “ He has obtained repose for t nee 
 from his father. Close now thine eyes, rest. 
 Sleep until the day of judgment. He will 
 then call up all men from the dead, but tea : 
 not; the anger of God is not eternal. For 
 though thou didst spurn his holy son with thy 
 foot, and did rejoice to see the blood shed at 
 Golgotha, He has pardoned thee!” 
 
 A strain of heavenly music came down, as 
 it were, from the skies ; the air was per- 
 fumed with the fragrance of unseen flowers ; 
 a stillness as of death followed the hirmo- 
 nions sounds, and a feeling of joy nnfelt 
 before, came over the senses of the bruised 
 and crushed Salathiel. Earth now looked 
 beautiful: the curse was removed. He was 
 told to close his eyes and sleep ; he obeyed. 
 It was the sleep of death. The Wandering 
 Jew was called home.