_SACRIFICE._
[Illustration: Initial]
My uncle summoned me one day into his presence, and told me that he wished
me to enlarge my education by travel.
“You must visit Egypt, Greece and Italy,” said he, “the typical centres of
the world, and converse with the master-spirits in art, science and
philosophy. I have made arrangements to keep you amply supplied with money
at Alexandria, Athens and Rome, and with letters to agreeable and
influential people.
“This will consume three years of your life; and if you are wise and
prudent, they will be pleasantly and profitably spent. When you return I
will surrender your father’s estate into your hands, and make a handsome
settlement upon your sisters from my own means. I am growing old and shall
need but little for the rest of my pilgrimage.”
“Then,” he continued to my surprise and sorrow, “then I shall go back to
the great East—nearer to the sun—to die.”
“Go back to the East?” I exclaimed with trepidation. “Why so? Your old age
requires the presence of loving friends and relatives. What can we—made
your children by your kindness—what can we do without you?”
“Ah! my child, the grass soon grows in the footprints of man. We are
easily forgotten. I shall be loved like one dead. I am weary of this
Judean air; of this corrupt and discordant society; of these Roman
trumpets and banners. I want peace and repose. I long to see once more the
sacred fire burning upon the altars. After twenty years of life in Persia,
one cannot be satisfied with the Mosaic sacrifices and the olive groves of
Bethany.”
Knowing my uncle’s firmness of resolution, and how long he had restrained
his natural restlessness for our benefit, I hung my head in mournful
silence.
“Well, well!” said he in a cheerful voice, “we have time enough to talk
about the whole matter. Get ready now for the scenes which fill the heart
of a thinking man with supreme delight.”
This plan of perfecting my education by travel, by coming in contact with
idolatrous people and studying heathen philosophies, excited the fears of
my good sisters, so contrary was it to the custom of the Jews. They
regarded it, indeed, as almost a crime. My uncle, however, was grandly
cosmopolitan in all his sentiments, and he had imbued my own mind with his
enlightened charity.
Ethopus accompanied me as my body-servant. We had taught the dumb African
to read and write after he was released from the bondage of Magistus and
Simon. He acquired these accomplishments in a moderate degree with great
celerity, so that our anticipations of rapid mental progress were sadly
disappointed by the result. When he reached the intellectual development
of a white child at twelve years, his onward march was arrested. No study,
no assiduity could advance him a step farther. He was organically a child.
His thoughts, his feelings, his opinions, his manners were all child-like;
and so they remained.
Such is the general result of my observation and study of the African
species. Susceptible as they are of a beautiful and indefinite moral
culture, the development of their intellectual faculties is limited by the
thick scull, the small brain, the black skin which they have inherited as
a national curse. May it be different in the future! I have received
nothing but kindness at their hands, and I feel nothing but kindness for
them in my heart.
We learned from Ethopus, through the medium of writing, that he had been
stolen by a party of marauding soldiers from his quiet and happy home in
Abyssinia, where his father was a petty prince. He had been sold to some
magicians in Egypt, who made him a slave, a football, a victim of cruel
and unnatural experiments. He had been fed upon toads and serpents and
creeping things. The blood of various animals had been injected into his
veins. The operation of poisons was studied upon his body. Degradation and
terror were imprinted upon his soul. He had been deprived of his manhood
and his speech, to bring him into total subjection to his diabolical
tyrants.
When I told him that I should go first into Egypt, he trembled; for the
memory of Simon and his own early life troubled his mind. I could scarcely
have induced him to accompany me at all, had it not been for the beautiful
gem which my uncle Beltrezzor had given him. In its prophylactic powers
against magic and magicians he enjoyed implicit faith. He had hitherto
carried it always in his pocket. He now bound it over his heart, carefully
secured in a leathern bag. He then declared himself ready for the journey.
Less fortunate than he, I had nothing wherewith to fortify myself against
evil spirits and the dangers of land and sea, but the consolations of
Zoroaster’s religion and scraps of the Platonic philosophy.
I had only one misgiving on leaving my sisters in the care of such an old
man as our excellent uncle. The wicked Magistus was still living in the
same house, separated from us only by a stone wall. He guarded my aunt in
the same cruel seclusion, and no doubt kept himself informed by her
clairvoyant powers of everything going on in our house as well as in
others. He had never made any advances toward us, and there was no
communication between us. I knew, however, that a fierce desire for
revenge rankled in his heart; and his power was now greater than ever,
since he had become a prominent member of the Sanhedrim, and his friend
Caiaphas had been appointed high-priest of the temple.
I spent about a year in exploring the wonders of Egypt, and had reached
Alexandria for a reluctant departure from that land of fascinations, when
a letter was delivered at my door by some one who disappeared as soon as
he gave it to the servant. This occasioned me some surprise, and I opened
it immediately. On a little piece of parchment which fell out as I did so,
I found these words:
“The original bearer of this letter was killed in a skirmish with our
troop. I find it contains something which you will be interested to know.
I therefore transmit it to you at some risk. Do not forget the
unforgetting
“SON OF THE DESERT.”
The epistle was from my sister Martha. It ran as follows:
“A wonderful thing has occurred, my dear brother, since I last wrote.
John, the young hermit of the desert, whom we have mourned as lost or
dead, has appeared on the banks of the Jordan, baptizing the multitudes
and preaching repentance and the remission of sins. He claims to be the
forerunner of the Messiah, announcing the speedy approach of the King of
kings. Crowds are flocking to him from all Judea and Galilee, and even
from distant regions. His eloquence is so astonishing that many who go out
of curiosity or sport, are stricken to the heart and receive his baptism.
“Mary and I have listened to the preaching of this inspired friend, and
are convinced of its truth and power. We have been baptized also,
confessing our sins, and vowing a life of repentance and good works. I
assure you, my dear brother! when the prophet laid his hand on our heads,
blessing us in the name of the Messiah, our minds were filled with a
heavenly ecstasy, and we could scarcely refrain from shouting aloud for
joy.
“When I came up out of the water, the first face I saw was that of our
strange friend who calls himself the Son of the Desert. He was standing
with many others on the bank near the prophet, and gazing earnestly at his
seraphic countenance. When his eyes met mine, he looked down as softly as
a young girl, and quickly withdrew from the crowd.
“My heart warms toward this poor, outcast stranger, who befriended you so
nobly, and who leads, I fear, such an evil life. Is it not strange that
the noble instincts, which he certainly possesses, do not cause him to
revolt against his base surroundings? His name is continually in my
prayers. Oh that he also would be baptized of John, forsake the troublous
ways of the world, and receive the sweet delicious peace of the new life!
“Mary is so happy again! A new rose has come to her cheek, a new buoyancy
to her step, a new beauty to her smile.
“Our good uncle accompanied us to the Jordan, although he despises crowds
and excitements. His criticism on the preaching and baptism of John shows
how thoroughly pagan are all his conceptions. He said he was a young man
of splendid enthusiasm, who would have been a disciple of Zoroaster if he
had studied the philosophy of fire instead of that of water.
“Perhaps the shining of this new star will guide you sooner home to our
eyes and hearts. You linger in that old, frightful, sand-beleagured
magic-stricken Egypt, when this herald of the Messiah, Aurora prophesying
the sun, is filling Judea with Divine light! Hasten with love, soon, very
soon, to your loving sisters.”
I was still meditating on this letter when Ethopus rushed into my chamber
with a face full of alarm. I soon learned from his expressive pantomime
that he had seen Simon Magus in one of the public squares, exhibiting some
magical tricks to a great crowd.
“Did he recognize you?” said I, anxiously.
The African shook his head hopefully.
“Then we will take ship for Athens to-morrow. Get everything ready for the
voyage.”
Ethopus seemed delighted at these words, and proceeded with the greatest
alacrity to execute my orders; not, however, until he had so disguised
himself that I positively did not know him when he appeared before me. He
was then so long absent on my errands that I became apprehensive for his
safety. He suddenly entered the room with an expression of countenance
which puzzled my practiced wit to decipher. It was the wildest joy
strangely mingled with sadness. He found it impossible to convey his ideas
by pantomime. The scene was ludicrous as well as pathetic. After several
frantic and fruitless efforts, he seized a burnt coal from the hearth and
scribbled on the white wall in great sprawling characters:
“I HAVE FOUND MY BROTHER!”
and making signs for me to follow him, he darted from the room.
We passed rapidly through the streets, Ethopus looking suspiciously about
him all the while, until we reached a grand bazaar, where thousands of
articles were exposed for sale. We forced our way through crowds of
merchants, each crying his wares; through buyers and sellers and idlers of
every description, chattering and chaffering in all the languages of the
world. We came presently to some little rooms or stalls where a great many
slaves on sale were exposed, almost naked. Ethopus pointed triumphantly to
a tall young African of handsome and even noble features, and falling upon
his neck, they wept together.
“They are brothers,” said the trader. “Their meeting was both amusing and
affecting. This dumb fellow recognized the other first, and fell upon his
face, shoulders and hands with frantic kisses. The younger one, not
comprehending such a useless outburst of affection, resented it as an
intrusion, and would have belabored his brother soundly, had he not been
so heavily ironed. The older one was in despair, but suddenly bethought
himself of taking off a lot of false hair and beard, and baring his neck
and bosom for inspection. The recognition was then soon effected, and they
laughed and wept alternately in each other’s arms.”
“He is a slave?” said I.
“Yes—and a most unruly one. He was captured in the late war with the
Abyssinians, and although very young, they say he was a superb soldier. I
can well believe it. He has already passed through several hands, and was
quickly got rid of by them all, on account of his fierce and dangerous
character.”
I studied the young man’s physiognomy carefully, but could discover no
trace of ferocity about the features. He seemed to be about twenty years
of age, and had a manly and dignified bearing as he stood there manacled
and exposed to the public gaze. I read his secret at once. He was a brave
and high-spirited youth, accustomed to freedom, war, and perhaps to the
exercise of power; and he did not submit to his chains as quietly as his
owners desired.
The slave-dealer must have divined the admiration with which I regarded
him, for he added with a quiet sneer:
“His braveries are at an end now, for he has been bought for Drusus
Hortensius.”
“And who is Hortensius?”
“Have you lived in the desert, that you never heard of Hortensius?
Hortensius is the richest man in the world at present, and the greatest
epicure in Rome. He imitates Lucullus, at least in pride and luxury. He
makes suppers for his friends, of incalculable magnificence. His demand
for nightingales’ tongues has silenced half the bird-music in the world.”
“Is Hortensius in the city?”
“In the city? No! He lives in Rome, which, he complains, is altogether too
small for him. He has an agent in Alexandria, who has a standing order to
send him about fifty refractory and incorrigible slaves every year.”
“What does he want them for?”
“Want them for?” laughed the dealer. “Well, you must know that Hortensius
has the greatest and rarest fish-ponds in the world. They are miracles of
beauty. Hortensius is fond of fish as well as of nightingales’ tongues.
But common fish do not tempt his august appetite. Lucullus discovered, in
the course of his epicurean studies, that fish fed upon human flesh have a
remarkably fine flavor; and moreover that these aquatic cannibals have a
special relish for the African species of the genus homo.”
“Wretch!” I muttered.
“Therefore,” continued the trader, without noticing my indignation,
“Hortensius, imitating Lucullus, has a negro slave cut into small pieces
and thrown into his fish-ponds every week. His children are taken out by
their nurses to witness this choice method of refining the pleasures of
the table.”
Anthony, for so they had re-named the brother of Ethopus, had picked up a
good deal of Latin, in which language the dealer was speaking. He had
listened intently and had caught the horrible meaning of his words. The
disdainful and defiant look of the young soldier, contemplating the fate
which awaited him, was a study for an artist.
“How can I save him from this cruel bondage, from this hideous death?”
“He was purchased yesterday and will be called for to-day, as the ship
sails this evening.”
“Will you cancel that bargain and sell him to me?” said I eagerly.
“Yes—for a grand consideration.”
I reflected that I had drawn my last funds from my uncle’s Egyptian agent.
Still, I might possibly borrow largely from him and wait a remittance. I
named what I considered a liberal price. The trader coldly shook his head.
I added a third more to it, determined to sacrifice a year’s travel in
order to save Anthony from the fish-ponds of the luxurious Roman. The
trader declined without hesitation. I could make no greater offer without
consultation with my uncle, and that was impossible. My countenance fell
in despair.
The brothers had watched our conversation with intense interest; and
although they did not comprehend its full meaning, they saw that I had
made a great effort to redeem Anthony and had failed. The face of Ethopus
was full of grief, that of Anthony of sad resignation. Ethopus suddenly
sprang up smiling, as if some great idea had illumined his mind. He tore
open his robe, and producing a little bag from his bosom, he took out the
precious stone which my uncle Beltrezzor had given him. He extended the
brilliant gem to the trader with one hand and pointed to Anthony with the
other.
“Oh do not take that,” I exclaimed. “This poor fellow values that stone
more than life itself. Nothing but the most intense affection could prompt
him to such a sacrifice. He believes that stone has delivered him from the
bondage of a terrible magician, and wears it over his heart as a
protecting genius. Accept my offer instead, which is of greater money
value than his gem.”
This speech had a singular effect. The slave-dealer had no generosity, but
boundless superstition. He either had an intense fear of magic himself, or
he was in collusion with magicians. He immediately acceded to Ethopus’
offer, struck the chains from Anthony’s arms and feet, and put the price
of his slave smilingly into his pocket.
“I will replace him with that old fellow there, who would smoke his pipe
as he is now doing if we were burying him alive. The agent of Hortensius
counts heads and never looks into faces.”
Anthony comprehended that an exorbitant price had been paid for his
liberty, involving some great sacrifice on the part of Ethopus and he
insisted on resuming his fetters, until I assured them both that the stone
with such magical properties should be replaced by one similar, as soon as
I could communicate with Beltrezzor.
Ethopus was now in a state of feverish anxiety to get aboard the Athenian
vessel. The addition of Anthony to our company seemed to increase his
fears and his sense of responsibility. I conveyed my baggage and my two
servants to the ship, and put them in charge of the captain, while I
returned into the city to finish my business and to make a few purchases.
When I reached the vessel again, Ethopus had disappeared! Anthony was in
great distress, and the captain and sailors were highly excited. The story
they told was a curious one. A tall, wild-looking man, fantastically
dressed, came and sat down on the shore near the planks of the ship.
Busily engaged in carrying on the small freight which crowds in just
before a vessel leaves, the sailors paid no attention to him.
This man was heard to make some very curious sounds, a kind of double
whistle, a signal which he repeated at intervals with increasing vehemence
and impatience. Ethopus then came slowly out of the vessel, reeling and
groping like one blind or drunk. He advanced slowly toward the stranger
and knelt at his feet. The poor fellow suddenly started up with a great
shriek and endeavored to escape. Several of the sailors rushed forward to
rescue him from the man who had seized him and was dragging him off. The
magician, for such he was, drew a huge yellow serpent from his robe, and
flourished it like a whip at his assailants. Some of the sailors declared
also that a jet of blue flame darted from his bosom. Certain it is that by
some magical trick he so terrified them that they fell back in awe, and he
escaped with his victim through the crowd which was gathering.
Poor Anthony, who had never seen a ship before, was walking about the
vessel in childlike wonder while this terrible abduction was taking place.
I was in the deepest distress. I took Anthony and the baggage back to my
quarters. I remained a fortnight in Alexandria instituting the most
thorough search after our lost friend. It was all in vain. I sailed at
last for Athens with a heavy, heavy heart, and a new servant, leaving the
poor dumb eunuch in the clutches of Simon Magus.
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[Illustration: Ornament]