3. CHAPTER III.
THE LIFE OF A SOUL.
THE tent was cosily pitched beneath a tree where the gurgle of the
stream was constantly in ear. Overhead the broad leaves hung
motionless on their stems; the delicate reed-stalks off in the
pearly haze stood up arrowy-straight; occasionally a home-returning
bee shot humming athwart the shade, and a partridge, creeping from the
sedge, drank, whistled to his mate, and ran away. The restfulness of
the vale, the freshness of the air, the garden beauty, the Sabbath
stillness, seemed to have affected the spirits of the elder
Egyptian; his voice, gestures, and whole manner were unusually gentle;
and often as he bent his eyes upon Ben-Hur conversing with Iras,
they softened with pity.
"When we overtook you, son of Hur," he said, at the conclusion of
the repast, "it seemed your face was also turned towards Jerusalem.
May I ask, without offence, if you are going so far?"
"I am going to the Holy City."
"For the great need I have to spare myself prolonged toil, I will
further ask you, Is there a shorter road than that by Rabbath-Ammon?"
"A rougher route, but shorter, lies by Geresa and Rabbath-Gilead. It
is the one I design taking."
"I am impatient," said Balthasar. "Latterly my sleep has been
visited by dreams-or rather by the same dream in repetition. A voice-it is nothing more-comes and tells me, 'Haste-arise! He whom thou
hast so long awaited is at hand.'"
"You mean he that is to be King of the Jews?" Ben-Hur asked,
gazing at the Egyptian in wonder.
"Even so."
"Then you have heard nothing of him?"
"Nothing, except the words of the voice in the dream."
"Here, then, are tidings to make you glad as they made me."
From his gown Ben-Hur drew the letter received from Malluch. The
hand the Egyptian held out trembled violently. He read aloud, and as
he read his feelings increased; the limp veins in his neck swelled and
throbbed. At the conclusion he raised his suffused eyes in
thanksgiving and prayer. He asked no questions, yet had no doubts.
"Thou hast been very good to me, O God," he said. "Give me, I pray
thee, to see the Saviour again, and worship him, and thy servant
will be ready to go in peace."
The words, the manner, the singular personality of the simple
prayer, touched Ben-Hur with a sensation new and abiding. God never
seemed so actual and so near by it was as if he were there bending
over them or sitting at their side-a Friend whose favours were to
be had by the most unceremonious asking-a Father to whom all his
children were alike in love-Father, not more of the Jew than of the
Gentile-the universal Father, who needed no intermediates, no rabbis,
no priests, no teachers. The idea that such a God might send mankind a
Saviour instead of a king appeared to Ben-Hur in a light not merely
new, but so plain that he could almost discern both the greater want
of such a gift and its greater consistency with the nature of such a
Deity. So he could not resist asking-
"Now that he has come, O Balthasar, you still think he is to be a
Saviour, and not a king?"
Balthasar gave him a look thoughtful as it was tender.
"How shall I understand you?" he asked, in return. "The Spirit,
which was the Star that was my guide of old, has not appeared to me
since I met you in the tent of the good sheik; that is to say, I
have not seen or heard it as formerly. I believe the voice that
spoke to me in my dreams was it; but other than that I have no
revelation."
"I will recall the difference between us," said Ben-Hur, with
deference. "You were of opinion that he would be a king, but not as
Caesar is; you thought his sovereignty would be spiritual, not of
the world."
"Oh yes," the Egyptian answered; "and I am of the same opinion
now. I see the divergence in our faith. You are going to meet a king
of men, I a Saviour of Souls."
He paused with the look often seen when people are struggling,
with introverted effort, to disentangle a thought which is either
too high for quick discernment or too subtle for simple expression.
"Let me try, O son of Hur," he said, directly, "and help you to a
clear understanding of my belief; then it may be, seeing how the
spiritual kingdom I expect him to set up can be more excellent in
every sense than anything of mere Caesarean splendour, you will better
understand the reason of the interest I take in the mysterious
person we are going to welcome.
"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,
God 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 God; 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 God'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 God, 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 or drinks? Or is winged, or
wears this or that? No. It is more becoming to trust in God. 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
colours the rose, he distils the dewdrop, 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 godly 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 God? 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, God 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 God. 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 men are 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 God? 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 shores, 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 God to tell me, 'I take thee into my service forever,'
the furthest limit of desire would be passed; after which the
attainable ambitions of this 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
after-life 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 slow 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 principals 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 passed them by.