"I cannot tell you when the idea of a Soul in every man had its origin. Most likely the first parents brought it with them out of the garden in which they had their first dwelling. We all do know, however, that it has never perished entirely out of mind. By some peoples it was lost, but not by all; in some ages it dulled and faded, in others it was overwhelmed with doubts; but, in great goodness, G.o.d kept sending us at intervals mighty intellects to argue it back to faith and hope.
"Why should there be a Soul in every man? Look, O son of Hur--for one moment look at the necessity of such a device. To lie down and die, and be no more--no more forever--time never was when man wished for such an end; nor has the man ever been who did not in his heart promise himself something better. The monuments of the nations are all protests against nothingness after death; so are statues and inscriptions; so is history. The greatest of our Egyptian kings had his effigy cut-out of a hill of solid rock. Day after day he went with a host in chariots to see the work; at last it was finished, never effigy so grand, so enduring: it looked like him--the features were his, faithful even in expression. Now may we not think of him saying in that moment of pride, "Let Death come; there is an after-life for me!" He had his wish. The statue is there yet.
"But what is the after-life he thus secured? Only a recollection by men--a glory unsubstantial as moonshine on the brow of the great bust; a story in stone--nothing more. Meantime what has become of the king? There is an embalmed body up in the royal tombs which once was his--an effigy not so fair to look at as the other out in the Desert. But where, O son of Hur, where is the king himself?
Is he fallen into nothingness? Two thousand years have gone since he was a man alive as you and I are. Was his last breath the end of him?
"To say yes would be to accuse G.o.d; let us rather accept his better plan of attaining life after death for us--actual life, I mean--the something more than a place in mortal memory; life with going and coming, with sensation, with knowledge, with power and all appreciation; life eternal in term though it may be with changes of condition.
"Ask you what G.o.d"s plan is? The gift of a Soul to each of us at birth, with this simple law--there shall be no immortality except through the Soul. In that law see the necessity of which I spoke.
"Let us turn from the necessity now. A word as to the pleasure there is in the thought of a Soul in each of us. In the first place, it robs death of its terrors by making dying a change for the better, and burial but the planting of a seed from which there will spring a new life. In the next place, behold me as I am--weak, weary, old, shrunken in body, and graceless; look at my wrinkled face, think of my failing senses, listen to my shrilled voice. Ah! what happiness to me in the promise that when the tomb opens, as soon it will, to receive the worn-out husk I call myself, the now viewless doors of the universe, which is but the palace of G.o.d, will swing wide ajar to receive me, a liberated immortal Soul!
"I would I could tell the ecstasy there must be in that life to come! Do not say I know nothing about it. This much I know, and it is enough for me--the being a Soul implies conditions of divine superiority. In such a being there is no dust, nor any gross thing; it must be finer than air, more impalpable than light, purer than essence--it is life in absolute purity.
"What now, O son of Hur? Knowing so much, shall I dispute with myself or you about the unnecessaries--about the form of my soul? Or where it is to abide? Or whether it eats and drinks?
Or is winged, or wears this or that? No. It is more becoming to trust in G.o.d. The beautiful in this world is all from his hand declaring the perfection of taste; he is the author of all form; he clothes the lily, he colors the rose, he distils the dew-drop, he makes the music of nature; in a word, he organized us for this life, and imposed its conditions; and they are such guaranty to me that, trustful as a little child, I leave to him the organization of my Soul, and every arrangement for the life after death. I know he loves me."
The good man stopped and drank, and the hand carrying the cup to his lips trembled; and both Iras and Ben-Hur shared his emotion and remained silent. Upon the latter a light was breaking. He was beginning to see, as never before, that there might be a spiritual kingdom of more import to men than any earthly empire; and that after all a Saviour would indeed be a more G.o.dly gift than the greatest king.
"I might ask you now," said Balthasar, continuing, "whether this human life, so troubled and brief, is preferable to the perfect and everlasting life designed for the Soul? But take the question, and think of it for yourself, formulating thus: Supposing both to be equally happy, is one hour more desirable than one year? From that then advance to the final inquiry, what are threescore and ten years on earth to all eternity with G.o.d? By-and-by, son of Hur, thinking in such manner, you will be filled with the meaning of the fact I present you next, to me the most amazing of all events, and in its effects the most sorrowful; it is that the very idea of life as a Soul is a light almost gone out in the world. Here and there, to be sure, a philosopher may be found who will talk to you of a Soul, likening it to a principle; but because philosophers take nothing upon faith, they will not go the length of admitting a Soul to be a being, and on that account its purpose is compressed darkness to them.
"Everything animate has a mind measurable by its wants. Is there to you no meaning in the singularity that power in full degree to speculate upon the future was given to man alone? By the sign as I see it, G.o.d meant to make us know ourselves created for another and a better life, such being in fact the greatest need of our nature. But, alas! into what a habit the nations have fallen! They live for the day, as if the present were the all in all, and go about saying, "There is no to-morrow after death; or if there be, since we know nothing about it, be it a care unto itself." So when Death calls them, "Come," they may not enter into enjoyment of the glorious after-life because of their unfitness. That is to say, the ultimate happiness of man was everlasting life in the society of G.o.d. Alas, O son of Hur, that I should say it! but as well yon sleeping camel constant in such society as the holiest priests this day serving the highest altars in the most renowned temples.
So much are men given to this lower earthly life! So nearly have they forgotten that other which is to come!
"See now, I pray you, that which is to be saved to us.
"For my part, speaking with the holiness of truth, I would not give one hour of life as a Soul for a thousand years of life as a man."
Here the Egyptian seemed to become unconscious of companionship and fall away into abstraction.
"This life has its problems," he said, "and there are men who spend their days trying to solve them; but what are they to the problems of the hereafter? What is there like knowing G.o.d? Not a scroll of the mysteries, but the mysteries themselves would for that hour at least lie before me revealed; even the innermost and most awful--the power which now we shrink from thought of--which rimmed the void with sh.o.r.es, and lighted the darkness, and out of nothing appointed the universe. All places would be opened.
I would be filled with divine knowledge; I would see all glories, taste all delights; I would revel in being. And if, at the end of the hour, it should please G.o.d to tell me, "I take thee into my service forever," the furthest limit of desire would be pa.s.sed; after which the attainable ambitions of life, and its joys of whatever kind, would not be so much as the tinkling of little bells."
Balthasar paused as if to recover from very ecstasy of feeling; and to Ben-Hur it seemed the speech had been the delivery of a Soul speaking for itself.
"I pray pardon, son of Hur," the good man continued, with a bow the gravity of which was relieved by the tender look that followed it, "I meant to leave the life of a Soul, its conditions, pleasures, superiority, to your own reflection and finding out. The joy of the thought has betrayed me into much speech. I set out to show, though ever so faintly, the reason of my faith. It grieves me that words are so weak. But help yourself to truth. Consider first the excellence of the existence which was reserved for us after death, and give heed to the feelings and impulses the thought is sure to awaken in you--heed them, I say, because they are your own Soul astir, doing what it can to urge you in the right way. Consider next that the afterlife has become so obscured as to justify calling it a lost light. If you find it, rejoice, O son of Hur--rejoice as I do, though in beggary of words. For then, besides the great gift which is to be saved to us, you will have found the need of a Saviour so infinitely greater than the need of a king; and he we are going to meet will not longer hold place in your hope a warrior with a sword or a monarch with a crown.
"A practical question presents itself--How shall we know him at sight? If you continue in your belief as to his character--that he is to be a king as Herod was--of course you will keep on until you meet a man clothed in purple and with a sceptre. On the other hand, he I look for will be one poor, humble, undistinguished--a man in appearance as other men; and the sign by which I will know him will be never so simple. He will offer to show me and all mankind the way to the eternal life; the beautiful pure Life of the Soul."
The company sat a moment in silence which was broken by Balthasar.
"Let us arise now," he said--"let us arise and set forward again.
What I have said has caused a return of impatience to see him who is ever in my thought; and if I seem to hurry you, O son of Hur--and you, my daughter--be that my excuse."
At his signal the slave brought them wine in a skin bottle; and they poured and drank, and shaking the lap-cloths out arose.
While the slave restored the tent and wares to the box under the houdah, and the Arab brought up the horses, the three princ.i.p.als laved themselves in the pool.
In a little while they were retracing their steps back through the wady, intending to overtake the caravan if it had pa.s.sed them by.
CHAPTER IV
The caravan, stretched out upon the Desert, was very picturesque; in motion, however, it was like a lazy serpent. By-and-by its stubborn dragging became intolerably irksome to Balthasar, patient as he was; so, at his suggestion, the party determined to go on by themselves.
If the reader be young, or if he has yet a sympathetic recollection of the romanticisms of his youth, he will relish the pleasure with which Ben-Hur, riding near the camel of the Egyptians, gave a last look at the head of the straggling column almost out of sight on the shimmering plain.
To be definite as may be, and perfectly confidential, Ben-Hur found a certain charm in Iras"s presence. If she looked down upon him from her high place, he made haste to get near her; if she spoke to him, his heart beat out of its usual time. The desire to be agreeable to her was a constant impulse. Objects on the way, though ever so common, became interesting the moment she called attention to them; a black swallow in the air pursued by her pointing finger went off in a halo; if a bit of quartz or a flake of mica was seen to sparkle in the drab sand under kissing of the sun, at a word he turned aside and brought it to her; and if she threw it away in disappointment, far from thinking of the trouble he had been put to, he was sorry it proved so worthless, and kept a lookout for something better--a ruby, perchance a diamond. So the purple of the far mountains became intensely deep and rich if she distinguished it with an exclamation of praise; and when, now and then, the curtain of the houdah fell down, it seemed a sudden dulness had dropped from the sky bedraggling all the landscape.
Thus disposed, yielding to the sweet influence, what shall save him from the dangers there are in days of the close companionship with the fair Egyptian incident to the solitary journey they were entered upon?
For that there is no logic in love, nor the least mathematical element, it is simply natural that she shall fashion the result who has the wielding of the influence.
To quicken the conclusion, there were signs, too, that she well knew the influence she was exercising over him. From some place under hand she had since morning drawn a caul of golden coins, and adjusted it so the gleaming strings fell over her forehead and upon her cheeks, blending l.u.s.trously with the flowing of her blue-black hair. From the same safe deposit she had also produced articles of jewelry--rings for finger and ear, bracelets, a necklace of pearls--also, a shawl embroidered with threads of fine gold--the effect of all which she softened with a scarf of Indian lace skillfully folded about her throat and shoulders.
And so arrayed, she plied Ben-Hur with countless coquetries of speech and manner; showering him with smiles; laughing in flute-like tremolo--and all the while following him with glances, now melting-tender, now sparkling-bright. By such play Antony was weaned from his glory; yet she who wrought his ruin was really not half so beautiful as this her countrywoman.
And so to them the nooning came, and the evening.
The sun at its going down behind a spur of the old Bashan, left the party halted by a pool of clear water of the rains out in the Abilene Desert. There the tent was pitched, the supper eaten, and preparations made for the night.
The second watch was Ben-Hur"s; and he was standing, spear in hand, within arm-reach of the dozing camel, looking awhile at the stars, then over the veiled land. The stillness was intense; only after long spells a warm breath of wind would sough past, but without disturbing him, for yet in thought he entertained the Egyptian, recounting her charms, and sometimes debating how she came by his secrets, the uses she might make of them, and the course he should pursue with her. And through all the debate Love stood off but a little way--a strong temptation, the stronger of a gleam of policy behind. At the very moment he was most inclined to yield to the allurement, a hand very fair even in the moonless gloaming was laid softly upon his shoulder. The touch thrilled him; he started, turned--and she was there.
"I thought you asleep," he said, presently.
"Sleep is for old people and little children, and I came out to look at my friends, the stars in the south--those now holding the curtains of midnight over the Nile. But confess yourself surprised!"
He took the hand which had fallen from his shoulder, and said, "Well, was it by an enemy?"
"Oh no! To be an enemy is to hate, and hating is a sickness which Isis will not suffer to come near me. She kissed me, you should know, on the heart when I was a child."
"Your speech does not sound in the least like your father"s.
Are you not of his faith?"
"I might have been"--and she laughed low--"I might have been had I seen what he has. I may be when I get old like him. There should be no religion for youth, only poetry and philosophy; and no poetry except such as is the inspiration of wine and mirth and love, and no philosophy that does not nod excuse for follies which cannot outlive a season. My father"s G.o.d is too awful for me. I failed to find him in the Grove of Daphne. He was never heard of as present in the atria of Rome. But, son of Hur, I have a wish."
"A wish! Where is he who could say it no?"
"I will try you."
"Tell it then."
"It is very simple. I wish to help you."
She drew closer as she spoke.
He laughed, and replied, lightly, "O Egypt!--I came near saying dear Egypt!--does not the sphinx abide in your country?"