3. CHAPTER III.
THE DEMAND ON SIMONIDES.
NEXT day early, to the neglect of the city, Ben-Hur sought the house
of Simonides. Through an embattled gateway he passed to a continuity
of wharves; thence up the river midst a busy press, to the Seleucian
Bridge, under which he paused to take in the scene.
There, directly under the bridge, was the merchant's house, a mass
of grey stone, unhewn, referrible to no style, looking, as the voyager
had described it, like a buttress of the wall against which it leaned.
Two immense doors in front communicated with the wharf. Some holes
near the top, heavily barred, served as windows. Weeds waved from
the crevices, and in places black moss splotched the otherwise bald
stones.
The doors were open. Through one of them business went in; through
the other it came out; and there was hurry, hurry in all its
movements.
On the wharf there were piles of goods in every kind of package, and
groups of slaves, stripped to the waist, going about in the abandon of
labour.
Below the bridge lay a fleet of galleys, some loading, others
unloading. A yellow flag blew out from each mast-head. From fleet
and wharf, and from ship to ship, the bondmen of traffic passed in
clamorous counter-currents.
Above the bridge, across the river, a wall rose from the water's
edge, over which towered the fanciful cornices and turrets of an
imperial palace, covering every foot of the island spoken of in the
Hebrew's description. But, with all its suggestions, Ben-Hur
scarcely noticed it. Now, at last, he thought to hear of his people-this certainly, if Simonides had indeed been his father's slave. But
would the man acknowledge the relation? That would be to give up his
riches and the sovereignty of trade so royally witnessed on the
wharf and river. And what was of still greater consequence to the
merchant, it would be to forego his career in the midst of amazing
success, and yield himself voluntarily once more a slave. Simple
thought of the demand seemed a monstrous audacity. Stripped of
diplomatic address, it was to say, You are my slave; give me all you
have, and-yourself.
Yet Ben-Hur derived strength for the interview from faith in his
rights and the hope uppermost in his heart. If the story to which he
was yielding were true, Simonides belonged to him, with all he had.
For the wealth, be it said in justice, he cared nothing. When he
started to the door determined in mind, it was with a promise to
himself-"Let him tell me of mother and Tirzah, and I will give him
his freedom without account."
He passed boldly into the house.
The interior was that of a vast depot where, in ordered spaces,
and under careful arrangement, goods of every kind were heaped and
pent. Though the light was murky and the air stifling, men moved about
briskly; and in places he saw workmen with saws and hammers making
packages for shipments. Down a path between the piles he walked
slowly, wondering if the man of whose genius there were here such
abounding proofs could have been his father's slave? If so, to what
class had he belonged? If a Jew, was he the son of a servant? Or was
he a debtor or a debtor's son? Or had he been sentenced and sold for
theft? These thoughts, as they passed, in nowise disturbed the growing
respect for the merchant of which he was each instant more and more
conscious. A peculiarity of our admiration for another is that it is
always looking for circumstances to justify itself.
At length a man approached and spoke to him.
"What would you have?"
"I would see Simonides, the merchant."
"Will you come this way?"
By a number of paths left in the stowage, they finally came to a
flight of steps; ascending which, he found himself on the roof of
the depot, and in front of a structure which cannot be better
described than as a lesser stone house built upon another, invisible
from the landing below, and out west of the bridge under the open sky.
The roof, hemmed in by a low wall, seemed like a terrace, which, to
his astonishment, was brilliant with flowers; in the rich surrounding,
the house sat squat-a plain square block, unbroken except by a
doorway in front. A dustless path led to the door, through a bordering
of shrubs of Persian rose in perfect bloom. Breathing a sweet
attar-perfume, he followed the guide.
At the end of a darkened passage within, they stopped before a
curtain half parted. The man called out,
"A stranger to see the master."
A clear voice replied, "In God's name, let him enter."
A Roman might have called the apartment into which the visitor was
ushered his atrium. The walls were panelled; each panel was
comparted like a modern office-desk, and each compartment crowded with
labelled folios all filemot with age and use. Between the panels,
and above and below them, were borders of wood once white, now
tinted like cream, and carved with marvellous intricacy of design.
Above a cornice of gilded balls, the ceiling rose in pavilion style
until it broke into a shallow dome set with hundreds of panes of
violet mica, permitting a flood of light deliciously reposeful. The
floor was carpeted with grey rugs so thick that an invading foot
fell half buried and soundless.
In the midlight of the room were two persons-a man resting in a
chair high-backed, broad-armed, and lined with pliant cushions; and at
his left, leaning against the back of the chair, a girl well forward
into womanhood. At sight of them Ben-Hur felt the blood redden his
forehead; bowing, as much to recover himself as in respect, he lost
the lifting of the hands, and the shiver and shrink with which the
sitter caught sight of him-an emotion as swift to go as it had been
to come. When he raised his eyes the two were in the same position,
except the girl's hand had fallen and was resting lightly upon the
elder's shoulder; both of them were regarding him fixedly.
"If you are Simonides, the merchant, and a Jew"-Ben-Hur stopped
an instant-"then the peace of the God of our father Abraham upon
you and-yours."
The last word was addressed to the girl.
"I am the Simonides of whom you speak, by birthright a Jew," the man
made answer, in a voice singularly clear. "I am Simonides, and a
Jew; and I return you your salutation, with prayer to know who calls
upon me."
Ben-Hur looked as he listened, and where the figure of the man
should have been in healthful roundness, there was only a formless
heap sunk in the depths of the cushions, and covered by a quilted robe
of sombre silk. Over the heap shone a head royally proportioned-the
ideal head of a statesman and conqueror-a head broad of base and
dome-like in front, such as Angelo would have modelled for Caesar.
White hair dropped in thin locks over the white brows, deepening the
blackness of the eyes shining through them like sullen lights. The
face was bloodless, and much puffed with folds, especially under the
chin. In other words, the head and face were those of a man who
might move the world more readily than the world could move him-a man
to be twice twelve times tortured into the shapeless cripple he was,
without a groan, much less a confession; a man to yield his life,
but never a purpose or a point; a man born in armour, and assailable
only through his loves. To him Ben-Hur stretched his hands, open and
palm up, as he would offer peace at the same time he asked it.
"I am Judah, son of Ithamar, late head of the House of Hur, and a
prince of Jerusalem."
The merchant's right hand lay outside the robe-a long, thin hand,
articulate to deformity with suffering. It closed tightly; otherwise
there was not the slightest expression of feeling of any kind on his
part; nothing to warrant an inference of surprise or interest; nothing
but this calm answer-
"The princes of Jerusalem, of the pure blood, are always welcome
in my house; you are welcome. Give the young man a seat, Esther."
The girl took an ottoman near by, and carried it to Ben-Hur. As
she arose from placing the seat, their eyes met.
"The peace of our Lord with you," she said, modestly. "Be seated and
at rest."
When she resumed her place by the chair, she had not divined his
purpose. The powers of woman go not so far: if the matter is of
finer feeling, such as pity, mercy, sympathy, that she detects; and
therein is a difference between her and man which will endure as
long as she remains, by nature, alive to such feelings. She was simply
sure he brought some wound of life for healing.
Ben-Hur did not take the offered seat, but said, deferentially, "I
pray the good master Simonides that he will not hold me an intruder.
Coming up the river yesterday, I heard he knew my father."
"I knew the Prince Hur. We were associated in some enterprises
lawful to merchants who find profit in lands beyond the sea and the
desert. But sit, I pray you-and, Esther, some wine for the young man.
Nehemiah speaks of a son of Hur who once ruled the half part of
Jerusalem; an old house; very old, by the faith! In the days of
Moses and Joshua even some of them found favour in the sight of the
Lord, and divided honours with those princes among men. It can
hardly be that their descendant, lineally come to us, will refuse a
cup of wine-fat of the genuine vine of Sorek, grown on the south
hillsides of Hebron."
By the time of the conclusion of this speech, Esther was before
Ben-Hur with a silver cup filled from a vase upon a table a little
removed from the chair. She offered the drink with downcast face. He
touched her hand gently to put it away. Again their eyes met;
whereat he noticed that she was small, not nearly to his shoulder in
height; but very graceful, and fair and sweet of face, with eyes black
and inexpressibly soft. She is kind and pretty, he thought, and
looks as Tirzah would were she living. Poor Tirzah! Then he said
aloud,
"No, thy father-if he is thy father?" he paused.
"I am Esther, the daughter of Simonides," she said, with dignity.
"Then, fair Esther, thy father, when he has heard my further speech,
will not think worse of me if yet I am slow to take his wine of famous
extract; nor less I hope not to lose grace in thy sight. Stand thou
here with me a moment!"
Both of them, as in common cause, turned to the merchant.
"Simonides!" he said, firmly, "my father, at his death, had a
trusted servant of thy name, and it has been told me that thou art the
man!"
There was a sudden start of the wrenched limbs under the robe, and
the thin hand clenched.
"Esther, Esther!" the man called, sternly; "here, not there, as thou
art thy mother's child and mine-here, not there, I say!"
The girl looked once from father to visitor; then she replaced the
cup upon the table, and went dutifully to the chair. Her countenance
sufficiently expressed her wonder and alarm.
Simonides lifted his left hand, and gave it into hers, lying
lovingly upon his shoulder, and said, dispassionately, "I have grown
old in dealing with men-old before my time. If he who told thee
that whereof thou speakest was a friend acquainted with my history,
and spoke of it not harshly, he must have persuaded thee that I
could not be else than a man distrustful of my kind. The God of Israel
help him who, at the end of life, is constrained to acknowledge so
much! My loves are few, but they are. One of them is a soul which"-he
carried the hand holding his to his lips, in manner unmistakable-"a
soul which to this time has been unselfishly mine, and such sweet
comfort that, were it taken from me, I would die."
Esther's head drooped until her cheek touched his.
"The other love is but a memory; of which I will say further that,
like a benison of the Lord, it hath a compass to contain a whole
family, if only"-his voice lowered and trembled-"if only I knew
where they were."
Ben-Hur's face suffused, and, advancing a step, he cried,
impulsively, "My mother and sister! Oh, it is of them you speak!"
Esther, as if spoken to, raised her head; but Simonides returned
to his calm, and answered, coldly, "Hear me to the end. Because I am
that I am, and because of the loves of which I have spoken, before I
make return to thy demand touching my relations to the Prince Hur, and
as something which of right should come first, do thou show me
proofs of who thou art. Is thy witness in writing? Or cometh it in
person?"
The demand was plain, and the right of it indisputable. Ben-Hur
blushed, clasped his hands, stammered, and turned away at loss.
Simonides pressed him.
"The proofs, the proofs, I say! Set them before me-lay them in my
hands!"
Yet Ben-Hur had no answer. He had not anticipated the requirement;
and, now that it was made, to him as never before came the awful
fact that the three years in the galley had carried away all the
proofs of his identity; mother and sister gone, he did not live in the
knowledge of any human being. Many there were acquainted with him, but
that was all. Had Quintus Arrius been present, what could he have said
more than where he found him, and that he believed the pretender to be
the son of Hur? But, as will presently appear in full, the brave Roman
sailor was dead. Judah had felt the loneliness before; to the core
of life the sense struck him now. He stood, hands clasped, face
averted, in stupefaction. Simonides respected his suffering, and
waited in silence.
"Master Simonides," he said, at length, "I can only tell my story;
and I will not that unless you stay judgment so long, and with
good-will deign to hear me."
"Speak," said Simonides, now, indeed, master of the situation-"speak, and I will listen the more willingly that I have not denied
you to be the very person you claim yourself."
Ben-Hur proceeded then, and told his life hurriedly, yet with the
feeling which is the source of all eloquence; but as we are familiar
with it down to his landing at Misenum, in company with Arrius,
returned victorious from the AEgean, at that point we will take up the
words.
"My benefactor was loved and trusted by the emperor, who heaped
him with honourable rewards. The merchants of the East contributed
magnificent presents, and he became doubly rich among the rich of
Rome. May a Jew forget his religion? or his birthplace, if it were the
Holy Land of our fathers? The good man adopted me his son by formal
rites of law; and I strove to make him just return: no child was
ever more dutiful to father than I to him. He would have had me a
scholar; in art, philosophy, rhetoric, oratory, he would have
furnished me the most famous teacher, I declined his insistence,
because I was a Jew, and could not forget the Lord God, or the glory
of the prophets, or the city set on the hills by David and Solomon.
Oh, ask you why I accepted any of the benefactions of the Roman? I
loved him; next place, I thought I could, with his help, array
influences which would enable me one day to unseal the mystery
close-locking the fate of my mother and sister; and to these there was
yet another motive of which I shall not speak except to say it
controlled me so far that I devoted myself to arms, and the
acquisition of everything deemed essential to thorough knowledge of
the art of war. In the palaestrae and circuses of the city I toiled,
and in the camps no less; and in all of them I have a name, but not
that of my fathers. The crowns I won-and on the walls of the villa by
Misenum there are many of them-all came to me as the son of Arrius,
the duumvir. In that relation only am I known among Romans.... In
steadfast pursuit of my secret aim, I left Rome for Antioch, intending
to accompany the Consul Maxentius in the campaign he is organizing
against the Parthians. Master of personal skill in all arms, I seek
now the higher knowledge pertaining to the conduct of bodies of men in
the field. The consul has admitted me one of his military family.
But yesterday, as our ship entered the Orontes, two other ships sailed
in with us flying yellow flags. A fellow-passenger and countryman from
Cyprus explained that the vessels belonged to Simonides, the
master-merchant of Antioch; he told us, also, who the merchant was;
his marvellous success in commerce; of his fleets and caravans, and
their coming and going; and, not knowing I had interest in the theme
beyond my associate listeners, he said Simonides was a Jew, once the
servant of the Prince Hur; nor did he conceal the cruelties of Gratus,
or the purpose of their infliction."
At this allusion Simonides bowed his head, and, as if to help him
conceal his feelings and her own deep sympathy, the daughter hid her
face on his neck. Directly he raised his eyes, and said, in a clear
voice, "I am listening."
"O good Simonides!" Ben-Hur then said, advancing a step, his whole
soul seeking expression, "I see thou art not convinced, and that yet I
stand in the shadow of thy distrust."
The merchant held his features fixed as marble, and his tongue as
still.
"And not less clearly I see the difficulties of my position,"
Ben-Hur continued. "All my Roman connection I can prove; I have only
to call upon the consul, now the guest of the governor of the city;
but I cannot prove the particulars of thy demand upon me. I cannot
prove I am my father's son. They who could serve me in that-alas!
they are dead or lost."
He covered his face with his hands; whereupon Esther arose, and,
taking the rejected cup to him, said, "The wine is of the country we
all so love. Drink, I pray thee!"
The voice was sweet as that of Rebekah offering drink at the well
near Nahor the city; he saw there were tears in her eyes, and he
drank, saying, "Daughter of Simonides, thy heart is full of
goodness; and merciful art thou to let the stranger share it with
thy father. Be thou blessed of our God! I thank thee."
Then he addressed himself to the merchant again:
"As I have no proof that I am my father's son, I will withdraw
that I demanded of thee, O Simonides, and go hence to trouble you no
more; only let me say I did not seek thy return to servitude nor
account of thy fortune; in any event, I would have said, as now I say,
that all which is product of thy labour and genius is thine; keep it
in welcome. I have no need of any part thereof. When the good Quintus,
my second father, sailed on the voyage which was his last, he left
me his heir, princely rich. If, therefore, thou dost think of me
again, be it with remembrance of this question, which, as I do swear
by the prophets and Jehovah, thy God and mine, was the chief purpose
of my coming here: What dost thou know-what canst thou tell me-of my
mother and Tirzah, my sister-she who should be in beauty and grace
even as this one, thy sweetness of life, if not thy very life? Oh!
what canst thou tell me of them?"
The tears ran down Esther's cheeks; but the man was willful: in a
clear voice, he replied,
"I have said I knew the Prince Ben-Hur. I remember hearing of the
misfortune which overtook his family. I remember the bitterness with
which I heard it. He who wrought such misery to the widow of my friend
is the same who, in the same spirit, hath since wrought upon me. I
will go further, and say to you, I have made diligent quest concerning
the family, but-I have nothing to tell you of them. They are lost."
Ben-Hur uttered a great groan.
"Then-then it is another hope broken!" he said, struggling with his
feelings. "I am used to disappointments. I pray you pardon my
intrusion; and if I have occasioned you annoyance, forgive it
because of my sorrow. I have nothing now to live for but vengeance.
Farewell."
At the curtain he turned, and said, simply, "I thank you both."
"Peace go with you," the merchant said.
Esther could not speak for sobbing.
And so he departed.