_The Road to Bethany_
BESSO is better,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo to Barizy of the Tower, as
he met him on a December morning in the Via Dolorosa.
‘Yes, but he is by no means well,’ quickly rejoined Barizy. ‘The
physician of the English prince told me----’
‘He has not seen the physician of the English prince!’ screamed
Pasqualigo, triumphantly.
‘I know that,’ said Barizy, rallying; ‘but the physician of the English
prince says for flesh-wounds----’
‘There are no flesh-wounds,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo. ‘They have all
healed; ‘tis an internal shock.’
‘For internal shocks,’ said Barizy of the Tower, ‘there is nothing like
rosemary stewed with salt, and so keep on till it simmers.’
‘That is very well for a bruise,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.
‘A bruise is a shock,’ said Barizy of the Tower.
‘Besso should have remained at Aleppo,’ said the Consul.
‘Besso always comes to Jerusalem when he is indisposed,’ said Barizy;
‘as he well says, ‘tis the only air that can cure him; and, if he
cannot be cured, why, at least, he can be buried in the Valley of
Je-hoshaphat.’
‘He is not at Jerusalem,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo, maliciously.
‘How do you mean?’ said Barizy, somewhat confused. ‘I am now going to
inquire after him, and smoke some of his Latakia.’
‘He is at Bethany,’ said the Consul.
‘Hem!’ said Barizy, mysteriously. ‘Bethany! Will that marriage come off
now, think you? I always fancy, when, eh?----’
‘She will not marry till her father has recovered,’ said the Consul.
‘This is a curious story,’ said Barizy. ‘The regular troops beaten by
the Kurds.’
‘They were not Kurds,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo. ‘They were Russians
in disguise. Some cannon have been taken, which were cast at St.
Petersburg; and, besides, there is a portfolio of state papers found on
a Cossack, habited as a Turkman, which betrays all. The documents are to
be published in numbers, with explanatory commentaries. Consul-General
Laurella writes from Damascus that the Eastern question is more alive
than ever. We are on the eve of great events.’
‘You don’t say so?’ said Barizy of the Tower, losing his presence
of mind from this overwhelming superiority of information. ‘I always
thought so. Palmerston will never rest till he gets Jerusalem.’
‘The English must have markets,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.
‘Very just,’ said Barizy of the Tower. ‘There will be a great opening
here. I think of doing a little myself in cottons; but the house of
Besso will monopolise everything.’
‘I don’t think the English can do much here,’ said the Consul, shaking
his head. ‘What have we to give them in exchange? The people here had
better look to Austria, if they wish to thrive. The Austrians also have
cottons, and they are Christians. They will give you their cottons, and
take your crucifixes.’
‘I don’t think I can deal in crucifixes,’ said Barizy of the Tower.
‘I tell you what, if you won’t, your cousin Barizy of the Gate will. I
know he has given a great order to Bethlehem.’
‘The traitor!’ exclaimed Barizy of the Tower. ‘Well, if people will
purchase crucifixes and nothing else, they must be supplied. Commerce
civilises man.’
‘Who is this?’ exclaimed the Consul Pasqualigo.
A couple of horsemen, well mounted, but travel-worn, and followed by a
guard of Bedouins, were coming up the Via Dolorosa, and stopped at the
house of Hassan Nejid.
‘’Tis the English prince,’ said Barizy of the Tower. ‘He has been absent
six months; he has been in Egypt.’
‘To see the temples of the fire-worshippers, and to shoot crocodiles.
They all do that,’ said the Consul Pasqualigo.
‘How glad he must be to get back to Jerusalem,’ said Barizy of the
Tower. ‘There may be larger cities, but there are certainly none so
beautiful.’
‘The most beautiful city in the world is the city of Venice,’ said
Pasqualigo.
‘You have never been there,’ said Barizy.
‘But it was built principally by my ancestors,’ said the Consul, ‘and I
have a print of it in my hall.’
‘I never heard that Venice was comparable to Jerusalem,’ said Barizy.
‘Jerusalem is, in every respect, an abode fit for swine, compared with
Venice,’ said Pasqualigo.
‘I would have you to know, Monsieur Pasqualigo, who call yourself
consul, that the city of Jerusalem is not only the city of God, but has
ever been the delight and pride of man.’
‘Pish!’ said Pasqualigo.
‘Poh!’ said Barizy.
‘I am not at all surprised that Besso got out of it as soon as he
possibly could.’
‘You would not dare to say these things in his presence,’ said Barizy.
‘Who says “dare” to the representative of a European Power!’
‘I say “dare” to the son of the janissary of the Austrian Vice-Consul at
Sidon.’
‘You will hear more of this,’ said Pasqualigo, fiercely. ‘I shall make a
representation to the Inter-nonce at Stamboul.’
‘You had better go there yourself, as you are tired of El Khuds.’
Pasqualigo, not having a repartee ready, shot at his habitual comrade a
glance of withering contempt, and stalked away.
In the meantime, Tancred dismounted and entered for the first time his
house at Jerusalem, of which he had been the nominal tenant for half a
year. Baroni was quite at home, as he knew the house in old days, and
had also several times visited, on this latter occasion, the suite of
Tancred. Freeman and True-man, who had been forwarded on by the British
Consul at Beiroot, like bales of goods, were at their post, bowing as
if their master had just returned from a club. But none of the important
members of the body were at this moment at hand. Colonel Brace was
dining with the English Consul on an experimental plum-pudding,
preliminary to the authentic compound, which was to appear in a few
days. It was supposed to be the first time that a Christmas pudding
had been concocted at Jerusalem, and the excitement in the circle was
considerable. The Colonel had undertaken to supervise the preparation,
and had been for several days instilling the due instructions into a
Syrian cook, who had hitherto only succeeded in producing a result
which combined the specific gravity of lead with the general flavour and
appearance of a mass of kneaded dates, in a state of fermentation after
a lengthy voyage. The Rev. Mr. Bernard was at Bethlehem, assisting the
Bishop in catechising some converts who had passed themselves off as
true children of Israel, but who were in fact, older Christians
than either of their examinants, being descendants of some Nestorian
families, who had settled in the south of Palestine in the earlier ages
of Christianity. As for Dr. Roby, he was culling simples in the valley
of the Jordan; and thus it happened that, when Tancred at length did
evince some disposition to settle down quietly under his own roof, and
avail himself of the services and society of his friends, not one of
them was present to receive and greet him. Tancred roamed about the
house, surveyed his court and garden, sighed, while Baroni rewarded and
dismissed their escort. ‘I know not how it is,’ he at length said to his
intendant, ‘but I never could have supposed that I could have felt so
sad and spiritless at Jerusalem.’
‘It is the reaction, my lord, after a month’s wandering in the desert.
It is always so: the world seems tame.’
‘I am disappointed that Besso is not here. I am most anxious to see
him.’
‘Shall I send for the Colonel, my lord?’ said Baroni, shaking Tancred’s
Arabian cloak.
‘Well, I think I should let him return naturally,’ said Tancred;
‘sending for him is a scene; and I do not know why, Baroni, but I
feel--I feel unstrung. I am surprised that there are no letters from
England; and yet I am rather glad too, for a letter----’
‘Received some months after its date,’ said Baroni, ‘is like the visit
of a spectre. I shudder at the sight of it.’
‘Heigho!’ said Tancred, stretching his arm, and half-speaking to
himself, ‘I wish the battle of Gindarics had never ceased, but that,
like some hero of enchantment, I had gone on for ever fighting.’
‘Ah! there is nothing like action,’ said Baroni, unscrewing his pistols.
‘But what action is there in this world?’ said Tancred. ‘The most
energetic men in Europe are mere busybodies. Empires are now governed
like parishes, and a great statesman is only a select vestryman. And
they are right: unless we bring man nearer to heaven, unless government
become again divine, the insignificance of the human scheme must
paralyse all effort.’
‘Hem!’ said Baroni, kneeling down and opening Tancred’s rifle-case. The
subject was getting a little too deep for him. ‘I perceive,’ he said
to himself, ‘that my lord is very restless. There is something at the
bottom of his mind which, perhaps, he does not quite comprehend himself;
but it will come out.’ Tancred passed the day alone in reading, or
walking about his room with an agitated and moody step. Often when his
eye rested on the page, his mind wandered from the subject, and he was
frequently lost in profound and protracted reverie. The evening drew
on; he retired early to his room, and gave orders that he was not to be
disturbed. At a later hour, Colonel Brace returned, having succeeded in
his principal enterprise, and having also sung the national anthem.
He was greatly surprised to hear that Lord Montacute had returned; but
Baroni succeeded in postponing the interview until the morrow. An hour
after the Colonel, the Rev. Mr. Bernard returned from Bethlehem. He was
in great tribulation, as he had been pursued by some of the vagabonds of
that ruffianly district; a shot had even been fired after him; but this
was only to frighten him. The fact is, the leader of the band was his
principal catechumen, who was extremely desirous of appropriating a very
splendid copy of the Holy Writings, richly bound, and adorned with massy
golden clasps, which the Duchess of Bellamont had presented to the Rev.
Mr. Bernard before his departure, and which he always, as a sort of
homage to one whom he sincerely respected, displayed on any eminent
instance of conversion.
The gates of the city were closed when Dr. Roby returned, laden with
many rare balsams. The consequence was, he was obliged to find quarters
in a tomb in the valley of Jehoshaphat. As his attendant was without
food, when his employer had sunk into philosophic repose, he supped off
the precious herbs and roots, and slaked his thirst with a draught from
the fountain of Siloah.
Tancred passed a night of agitating dreams. Sometimes he was in the
starry desert, sometimes in the caverned dungeons of Gindarics. Then,
again, the scene changed to Bellamont Castle, but it would seem that
Fakredeen was its lord; and when Tancred rushed forward to embrace his
mother, she assumed the form of the Syrian goddess, and yet the face was
the face of Eva. Though disturbed, he slept, and when he woke, he was
for a moment quite unconscious of being at Jerusalem. Although within
a week of Christmas, no sensible difference had yet occurred in the
climate. The golden sun succeeded the silver moon, and both reigned in
a clear blue sky. You may dine at night on the terrace of your house at
Jerusalem in January, and find a serene and benignant atmosphere.
Tancred rose early; no one was stirring in the house except the native
servants, and Mr. Freeman, who was making a great disturbance about hot
water. Tancred left a message with this gentleman for the Colonel and
his companions, begging that they might all meet at breakfast, and
adding that he was about to stroll for half an hour. Saying this, he
quitted the house, and took his way by the gate of Stephen to the Mount
of Olives.
It was a delicious morn, wonderfully clear, and soft, and fresh. It
seemed a happy and a thriving city, that forlorn Jerusalem, as Tancred,
from the heights of Olivet, gazed upon its noble buildings, and its
cupolaed houses of freestone, and its battlemented walls and lofty
gates. Nature was fair, and the sense of existence was delightful.
It seemed to Tancred that a spicy gale came up the ravines of the
wilderness, from the farthest Arabia.
Lost in prolonged reverie, the hours flew on. The sun was mounting in
the heavens when Tancred turned his step, but, instead of approaching
the city, he pursued a winding path in an opposite direction. That path
led to Bethany.