THE JEW
The man who entered the apartment with the air of one to whom every nook
and corner was familiar, must have been fully three‐score years of age,
yet his dark eye still glittered with the fire of youth, his thick curling
beard and hair were but slightly sprinkled with grey, and the muscles of
his square powerful frame seemed but to have acquired solidity and
consistency with age. His appearance was that of a warrior, toughened,
and, as it were, forged into iron, by years of strife, hardship, and
unremitting toil.
If something in the line of his aquiline features resembled Calchas, no
two faces could have been more different in their character and expression
than those of Eleazar and his brother. The latter was all gentleness,
kindliness, and peace; on the former, fiery passions, deep schemes,
continual peril, and contention, had set their indelible marks. The one
was that of the spectator, who is seated securely on the cliff, and marks
the seething waters below with interest, indeed, and sympathy, but with
feelings neither of agitation nor alarm; the other was the strong swimmer,
breasting the waves fiercely, and battling with their might, striving for
his life inch by inch, and stroke by stroke, conscious of his peril,
confident in his strength, and never despairing for an instant of the
result. At times, indeed, the influence of opposite feelings, softening
the one and kindling the other, would bring out the family likeness clear
and apparent upon each; but in repose no two faces could be more
dissimilar, no two types of character more utterly at variance, than those
of the Christian and the Jew.
As Eleazar’s warlike figure came into the light, Esca could not but remark
with what a glance of mistrust his quick eye took in the presence of a
stranger, how the strong fingers closed instinctively round the staff he
was in the act of laying down, and the whole form seemed to gather itself
in an instant as though ready for the promptest measures of resistance or
attack. Such trifling gestures spoke volumes of the character and habits
of the man.
Nevertheless Calchas rapidly explained to his brother the cause of this
addition to their supper‐party; and Mariamne, who seemed in considerable
awe of her father, busied herself in placing food and wine before him,
with even more alacrity than she had shown when serving their guest.
The Jew thanked his new friend for the kindness he had rendered his
daughter, with a few brief cordial words, as one brave man expresses his
gratitude to another, then fell to on the meat and drink provided, with a
voracity that argued well for his physical powers, and denoted a strong
constitution and a long fast. As he took breath after a deep draught of
wine in which, though he pledged him not, he challenged his guest to join,
Calchas asked his brother how he had sped in the affairs that kept him
from home all day.
“Ill,” answered the other, shooting from under his thick eyebrows a
penetrating glance at the Briton. “Ill and slowly, yet not so ill but that
something has been gained, another step taken in the direction at which I
aim. Yet I have been to‐day in high places, have seen those bloated
gluttons and drunkards who are the ministers of Cæsar’s will, have spoken
with that spotted panther, Vespasian’s scheming agent forsooth! who thinks
he hath the cunning, as he can doubtless boast of the treachery and the
gaudy colours, of the beast of prey. Let him take care! Weaker hands than
mine have ere this strangled a fiercer animal for the worth of his shining
skin. Let him beware! Eleazar‐Ben‐Manahem is a match, and more than a
match, for Julius Placidus the tribune!”
Esca glanced quickly at the speaker, as his ear caught the familiar name.
The look was not lost upon his host.
“You know him?” said he, with a fierce smile that showed the strong white
teeth gleaming through his bushy beard. “Then you know as cool and well‐
taught a soldier as ever buckled on a sword. I wish I had a few like him
to officer the Sicarii(3) at home. But you know, also, a man who would not
scruple to slay his own father for the worth of the clasp that fastens his
gown. I have seen him in the field, and I have seen him in the council. He
is bold, skilful, and he can be treacherous in both! Where met you him
last?” he added, with a searching glance at Esca, while at the same time
he desired Mariamne to fill the stranger’s cup and his own.
The latter proceeding engrossed the Briton’s whole attention. It was with
the utmost carelessness that he replied to the question, by relating his
interview, that very morning, with the tribune at Valeria’s door. He
scarcely marked how precisely the father noted down the name in his
tablets, for the daughter’s white arm was reaching over his shoulder, so
close that it almost touched his cheek.
It was indeed well worth Eleazar’s while to obtain information, from
whatever source, of any influence that might affect those in authority
with whom he was in daily contact at Rome. His position was one which
called for courage, tact, skill, and even cunning, to a great extent.
Charged by the Supreme Council at Jerusalem, then in the last stage of
perplexity and sorely beset by Vespasian and his legions, with a private
mission to Vitellius, who much mistrusted the successful general, he
represented the hopes and fears, the temporal and political prosperity,
nay, the very existence of the Chosen People. Nor to all appearance could
a better instrument have been selected for the purpose. Eleazar, though a
bigoted and fanatical Jew of the strictest sect, was a man of keen and
powerful intellect, whose obstinacy was open to no conviction, whose
perseverance was to be deterred by no obstacle. A distinguished and
fearless soldier, he possessed the confidence of the large and fighting
portion of the nation, who looked on Roman supremacy with abhorrence, and
who clung dearly to the notion of earthly dominion, wrested from the
heathen with the sword. His rigid observance of its fasts, its duties, and
its ceremonials, had gained him the affections of the priesthood, and the
more enthusiastic followers of that religion in which outward forms were
so strictly enjoined and so faithfully observed; while a certain fierce,
defiant, and unbending demeanour towards all classes of men, had won for
him a character of frankness which did him good service in the schemes of
intrigue and dissimulation with which he was continually engaged.
Yet perhaps the man was honest too, as far as his own convictions went. He
esteemed all means lawful for the furtherance of a lawful object. He was
one of those who deem it the most contemptible of weakness to shrink from
doing evil that good may come. Like Jephthah he would have sacrificed his
daughter unflinchingly in performance of a vow; nay, had Mariamne stood
between him and the attainment of his ambition, or even the accomplishment
of his revenge, he would have walked ruthlessly over the body of his
child. Versed in the traditions of his family and the history of his
nation, he was steeped to the lips in that pride of pedigree which was so
essential a feature of the Jewish character: he was convinced that the
eventual destiny of his people was to lord it over the whole earth. He
possessed more than his share of that haughty self‐sufficiency which bade
the Pharisee hold aloof from those of lower pretensions and humbler
demeanour than himself; while he had all the fierce courage and energy of
the Lion of Judah, so terrible when roused, so difficult to be appeased
when victorious. In his secret heart he anticipated the time when
Jerusalem should again become a sovereign city, when the Roman eagles
should be scared away from Syria, and a hierarchy established once more as
the government of the people chosen by Heaven. That he should be a second
Judas Maccabæus, a chief commander of the armies of the faithful in the
new order of things, was an ambition naturally enough entertained by the
bold and skilful soldier; but, to do Eleazar justice, individual
aggrandisement had but little share in his schemes, and personal interest
never crossed those visions for the future, on which his dark and
dangerous enthusiasm so loved to dwell.
It was a delicate matter to intrigue with Vitellius in Rome against the
very general who held supreme authority, at least ostensibly, from the
Emperor. It was playing a hazardous game, to receive power and
instructions from the Council at Jerusalem, and to use or suppress them
according to the bearer’s own political views and future intentions.
It was no easy task to hold his own against such men as Placidus, in the
contest of _finesse_, subtlety, and double‐dealing; yet the Jew entered
upon his perilous career with a strenuous energy, a cool calculating
audacity, that was engraved in the very character of the man.
Another draught of the rich Lebanon wine served to improve their
acquaintance, and Eleazar, with considerable tact, drew from the Briton
all the information he could obtain as to the habits and movements of his
antagonist the tribune, while he seemed but to be carrying on the
courteous conversation of a host with his guest. Esca’s answers,
notwithstanding that thoughts and eyes wandered frequently towards
Mariamne, were frank and open like his disposition. He, too, entertained
no very cordial liking for Placidus, and experienced towards the tribune
that unconscious antipathy which the honest man so often feels for the
knave.
Calchas, meanwhile, had returned to the perusal of his scroll, on which
his brother cast occasional glances of unfeigned contempt, notwithstanding
that the reader was the person whom he most loved and respected on earth.
Mariamne, moving about the apartment, looked covertly on the fair face and
stately form of her preserver, approving much of what she saw; once their
eyes met, and the Jewess blushed to her temples for very shame. So the
time passed quickly; the night stole on, the Lebanon was nearly finished,
and Esca rose to bid his entertainers farewell.
“You have done me a rare service,” said Eleazar, feeling in his breast
while he spoke, and producing, from under his coarse garment, a jewel of
considerable value, “a service neither thanks nor guerdon can requite;
yet, I pray you, keep this trinket in remembrance of the Jew and the Jew’s
daughter, who come of a people that forgive not an injury, and forget not
a benefit.”
The colour mounted to Esca’s forehead, and an expression of pain, almost
of anger, came into his face, while he replied—
“I have done nothing to merit either thanks or reward. It is no such
matter to put a fat eunuch on his back, or to defend an unprotected woman
in a town like this. Take back your jewel, I pray you. Any other man would
have done as much.”
“It is not every man who could have interposed so effectually,” replied
Eleazar, with a glance of hearty approval at the thews and sinews of his
friend, replacing the jewel meanwhile in his vestment, without the least
sign of displeasure at its being declined. He would have bestowed it
freely, no doubt, but if Esca did not want it, it would serve some other
purpose: precious stones and gold would always fetch their value at Rome.
“At least you will let me give you a safe‐conduct home,” he added; “the
night is far advanced, and I should be loth that you should suffer wrong
for your interposition in our behalf.”
Esca burst out laughing now. In the pride of his strength, it seemed so
impossible that he should require protection or assistance from anyone. He
squared his large shoulders and drew himself to his full height.
“I should wish no better pastime,” said he, “than a bout with a dozen of
them! I, too, was brought up a warrior, in a land you have never heard of,
many a long mile from Rome; a land fairer far than this, of green valleys
and wooded hills, and noble rivers winding calmly towards the sea; a land
where the oaks are lofty and the flowers are sweet, where the men are
strong and the women fair. I have followed the chase afoot from sunrise to
sunset through many a summer’s day. I have fronted the invader, sword in
hand, ever since my arm was long enough to draw blade from sheath, or I
had not been here now. You too are a soldier, I see it in your eye—you can
believe that my limbs grow stiff, my spirits droop for lack of martial
exercise. In faith, it seems to me that even a vulgar broil in the street
makes my blood dance in my veins once more!”
Mariamne was listening with parted lips and shining eyes. She drank in all
he said of his distant home with its woodland scenery, its forest trees,
its fragrant flowers, and, above all, its lovely women. She felt so kindly
towards this bold young stranger, exiled from kin and country, she
attributed her interest to pity and gratitude, nor could she help
wondering to find these sentiments so strong.
Calchas looked up from his studies.
“Fare thee well!” said he. “Take an old man’s warning, and strike not
unless it be in self‐defence. Mark well the turning from the main street
to the Tiber, so shalt thou find thy way to our poor home again.”
Esca promised faithfully to return, and fully intended to redeem his
promise.
“Another cup of wine,” said Eleazar, emptying the leathern bottle into a
golden vessel; “the sun of Italy cannot ripen such a vintage as this.”
But the rich produce of the Lebanon was all too cloying for the healthy
palate and the thirst of youth. Esca prayed for a draught of fair water,
and Mariamne brought him the pitcher and gave him to drink with her own
hand. For the second time to‐night their eyes met, and although they were
instantly averted, the Briton felt that he was drinking from a cup more
intoxicating than all the wine‐presses of Syria could produce—a cup that
made him unconscious of the past as of the future, and only too keenly
sensible of the present by its joy. He forgot that he was a barbarian, he
forgot that he was a slave.
He forgot everything but Mariamne and her dark imploring trustful eyes.