_The Clemency of Titus_
[Sidenote: Salathiel’s Supplication]
There was a thrilling influence in the words of Eleazar that left me
without reply, and for a while I stood absorbed. When I 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 supplicated the
tribune of the escort for a moment’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 up to witness the
offering to the shades of the Roman senators and soldiers. The morning
was stormy, and clouds covering the ridges of the hills darkened the
feeble dawn so much that torches were necessary 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 a height where the
general stood in the midst of a group of mounted officers, wrapped in
their cloaks against the snows 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, that I had never before bowed to man, I besought the muffled
form, whom I took for 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,” exclaimed 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
territory, 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 form slowly removed the cloak and Cestius was before me.
“So,” said he, with a malignant 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 a centurion, “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 like a slave in a skirmish; but you shall now figure before
your countrymen as a patriot should, and die with the honors of a native
rebel.”
[Sidenote: The Valley of the Crosses]
I disdained to answer. The officer came up, attended by his spearmen, and
I was led down to the valley. A storm of extraordinary 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, torn up by blasts that drifted it hazardously upon the troops
and threw everything into confusion. 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 naked and rocky
hollow were planted crosses. The ravine, dark even in sunshine, 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 imploring that I should mercifully hasten death. I
heard my name called on as their prince, their leader, their countryman;
I heard voices calling on me to remember and revenge! Horror-struck,
I raved at the legionaries and their tyrant master until I sank upon
the ground in exhaustion, covering my head with my mantle that I might
exclude alike sight and sound.
[Sidenote: Salathiel Awed by a Face]
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 remembrance or my soul! I knew every feature 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 my call; the daring rabble-leader who had
first shouted at my fatal summons, and maddened the multitude, as I had
maddened myself 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 convulsion. He gasped and tried to speak, but
no words came. He beat his breast wildly and pointed to the cross with
dreadful meaning. The executioner, a brutal slave, scoffed at him as a
dastard. He heard nothing, but with his pallid eyes staring on me and his
hand pointed upward, stood stiffening. Life departed as he stood! The
executioner, impatient, 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 unnerved, looked wildly round for
some way of escape from this scene of despair. As I tried to penetrate
the dusk toward 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 snowdrifts until 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 look 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 entrenchments by the breaches left since the battle,
and before I could be stopped or questioned, entered the tent of Titus.
[Sidenote: News from Rome]
The supper-lamps were burning, and three stately-looking men still
lingered over the table, one of the few unpopular luxuries of the
general. A large packet of letters was being distributed by a page, and
while I stood in the shade of the tent-curtain a moment, until I should
ascertain whether Titus was among the three, I was made the unwilling
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,
and so let him worship the rising sun, until another dynasty comes, and
he discovers that if this sun has 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 incantations, and it is more than suspected that the
whole is stirred up by our incomparable governor of western Gaul, who
affects the diadem, like all the ridiculous governors 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, the Mamertine. But as to the Britons, I doubt if they care one
of their own leather pence whether he wears the diadem or the halter.
The savages have probably been vexed by some new attempt to squeeze money
from them—the quickest way to try the national sensibilities. 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.”
[Sidenote: A Letter from Sempronius]
“A letter from Sempronius!” was the next topic; “its exquisite intaglio
and elaborate perfumes would betray it all the world over; full of
scandals, as usual, and full of discontent. He seems quite dismantled,
and complains that—the sex is 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,” said another, sipping his goblet.
“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 private 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 countenance and figure struck me as what no other word could
express than—princely.[53] The features were handsome and strongly marked
Italian, and the form, tho tending 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 majesty. 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 had fought hand to hand, gave
me no recollection of the man before me. Titus might not even be among
the three, and nothing but seizure and ruin could be the consequence of
discovering myself to subordinates.
“Good news, it is to be hoped,” said both the listeners together as they
deferentially watched his perusal.
“None whatever; a mere private chronicle in the Emperor’s usual style;
all kinds of oddities together. He laughs at me for complaining of the
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 Britannicus,
and is about to dedicate a bronze equestrian one to me, to be placed in
the Circus. He concludes the epistle by saying that unless the British
insurrection speedily blows over, he shall be a beggar, and must turn
tribune for a livelihood; defends his impracticable manuscript, which, he
says, I am imitating 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 repaid the imperial merriment by its full tribute 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
pronounce to them: “My antagonist, the prince of Naphtali.”
There was no time for ceremony, and I addressed him at once.
[Sidenote: Salathiel Appeals to Titus]
“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,
condemned 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 was evidently perplexed; then he
returned to his chair, and having consulted with his companions,
hesitatingly said:
“Prince, you know not what you have asked. I 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 gravely; “yet I can forgive your
national temper. With others, even your venturing here might bring you
into hazard. But the perfidy of your people makes truce and treaty
impossible. They leave me no alternative. I lament the necessity. It is
the desire of the illustrious Vespasian to reign in peace. But this is
now at an end.”
He paused, and advancing toward me, offered 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 heroic
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.
[Sidenote: The Offer of Titus]
“Why not come among us,” he said; “give up a resistance that must end
in ruin; abandon a cause that all the world sees to be desperate; save
yourself from popular caprice, the violence of your rancorous factions,
and the final fall of your city? Be Cæsar’s friend, and name what
possession, power, or rank 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
before me.
“Son of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man; I may in the next be an
exile or a slave. I have ties to life as strong as ever were bound 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 standing at
the place of torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of
abandoning, 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, affected 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 the 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. Hear me a moment.”
Titus stood at this, and I continued:
[Sidenote: The Passing of Power]
“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 blood, and an enemy on
his throne? The Persian came; from her protector he turned into her
oppressor, and his empire was swept away like the dust of the desert! The
Syrian smote her; the smiter died in agonies of remorse, and where is his
kingdom now? The Egyptian smote her, and who now sits on the throne of
the Ptolemies? Pompey came—the invincible conqueror of a thousand cities,
the light of Rome, the lord of Asia riding on the very wings of victory.
But he profaned her Temple, and from that hour he went down—down, like a
millstone plunged into the ocean! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish
fears were upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome. Where does he
sleep? What sands were colored with his blood? The universal conqueror
died a slave by the hands of a slave! Crassus came at the head of the
legions; he plundered the sacred vessels 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!
[Sidenote: A Recognition and a Lie]
“You, too, son of Vespasian, may be commissioned for the punishment of a
stiff-necked and rebellious people. You may scourge our naked vice by the
force of arms; and then you may return to your own land, exulting 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 memory of your virtues, and make Rome in bitterness
of soul curse the Flavian name?”
Titus grew pale, and shuddering, covered his eyes with his mantle. His
companions stood gazing on me with the aspect of men gazing on the
messenger of fate.
“Spare Eleazar,” was all that I could utter.
Titus made a sign to a tribune, who flew to bear, if not too late, the
command of mercy.
While we continued in a silence that none of us felt inclined to break, a
door opened behind me and an officer entered. It was Septimius. I seized
him by the throat.
“Villain!” I cried, “give me back my child; base hypocrite! give up my
innocent daughter. Where have you taken her? Lead me to her, or die!”
Titus rose, in evident surprise and indignation.
“What do I hear, Septimius? Have you been guilty of this offense? Prince,
let him 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 beyond that I have nothing to say for
myself or any one else. I never saw this man before. I know no more of
his daughter than of the queen of Abyssinia, or the three-formed Diana;
and by the goddess, I swear that I believe him to be perfectly under her
influence, and either a lunatic or a most excellent actor. Be honest,
Jew, if you can, and acknowledge that you never saw me before in your
life.”
I stood in astonishment; his effrontery struck me dumb.
[Sidenote: Warned of an Assassin]
“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 he shall be guarded, until
we at least find out what brought him here.”
“Ingrate,” I exclaimed, “you make me hate human nature! Better that I had
left you to be trampled like the viper that you are.”
The dark eye of the general, again turned on Septimius, seemed to require
a graver explanation.
“Ingrate!” retorted he. “By Jupiter, the fellow’s insolence is superb.
For what should I be grateful? but for my escape from his detestable
hands. 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 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 safety of the state in hazarding your person within the reach
of one of a race of assassins.”
Titus smiled, and waved back his companions, who, on the surmise, were
approaching him.
“Let me be honored with your commands,” urged Septimius, “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 to 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 Jerusalem, yesterday passed the
gates. His object is the life of the Roman general. He goes under the
pretense 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 Titus can not
be too much on his guard.”
[Sidenote: Held in Custody]
The note was in an enclosure from Cestius, stating that it had just been
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 general, fixing his penetrating
gaze on him, “could know nothing of this letter.”
Septimius entered on his defense 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 instantly put to death, addressed
me in that grave and silver-toned voice which characterized 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 soldiership could
stoop to the crime charged here. In truth, were none but personal
considerations in question, I should instantly set you free. But there
are weighty interests 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 satisfy 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 secretaries of Titus.