The Wandering Jew, Book VIII.., Eugene Sue [best non fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

BOOK VIII.

 

PART THIRD.--THE REDEMPTION.

 

 

The Wandering Jew's Chastisement The Descendants of the Wandering Jew

III.      The Attack

The Wolves and the Devourers The Return The Go-Between

VII.      Another Secret

VIII.     The Confession

Love The Execution The Champs-Elysees

XII.      Behind the Scenes

XIII.     Up with the Curtain

XIV.      Death

CHAPTER I. (THE WANDERING JEW'S CHASTISEMENT.)

 

'Tis night--the moon is brightly shining, the brilliant stars are

sparkling in a sky of melancholy calmness, the shrill whistlings of a

northerly wind--cold, bleak, and evil-bearing--are increasing: winding

about, and bursting into violent blasts, with their harsh and hissing

gusts, they are sweeping the heights of Montmartre. A man is standing on

the very summit of the hill; his lengthened shadow, thrown out by the

moon's pale beams, darkens the rocky ground in the distance. The

traveller is surveying the huge city lying at his feet--the City of

Paris--from whose profundities are cast up its towers, cupolas, domes,

and steeples, in the bluish moisture of the horizon; while from the very

centre of this sea of stones is rising a luminous vapor, reddening the

starry azure of the sky above. It is the distant light of a myriad lamps

which at night, the season for pleasure, is illuminating the noisy

capital.

 

"No!" said the traveller, "it will not be. The Lord surely will not

suffer it. Twice is quite enough. Five centuries ago, the avenging hand

of the Almighty drove me hither from the depths of Asia. A solitary

wanderer, I left in my track more mourning, despair, disaster, and death,

than the innumerable armies of a hundred devastating conquerors could

have produced. I then entered this city, and it was decimated. Two

centuries ago that inexorable hand which led me through the world again

conducted me here; and on that occasion, as on the previous one, that

scourge, which at intervals the Almighty binds to my footsteps, ravaged

this city, attacking first my brethren, already wearied by wretchedness

and toil. My brethren! through me--the laborer of Jerusalem, cursed by

the Lord, who in my person cursed the race of laborers--a race always

suffering, always disinherited, always slaves, who like me, go on, on,

on, without rest or intermission, without recompense, or hope; until at

length, women, men, children, and old men, die under their iron yoke of

self-murder, that others in their turn then take up, borne from age to

age on their willing but aching shoulders. And here again, for the third

time, in the course of five centuries, I have arrived at the summit of

one of the hills which overlooks the city; and perhaps I bring again with

me terror, desolation, and death. And this unhappy city, intoxicated in a

whirl of joys, and nocturnal revelries, knows nothing about it--oh! it

knows not that I am at its very gate. But no! no! my presence will not be

a source of fresh calamity to it. The Lord, in His unsearchable wisdom,

has brought me hither across France, making me avoid on my route all but

the humblest villages, so that no increase of the funeral knell has,

marked my journey. And then, moreover, the spectre has left me--that

spectre, livid and green, with its deep bloodshot eyes. When I touched

the soil of France, its moist and icy hand abandoned mine--it

disappeared. And yet I feel the atmosphere of death surrounding me still.

There is no cessation; the biting gusts of this sinister wind, which

envelop me in their breath, seem by their envenomed breath to propagate

the scourge. Doubtless the anger of the Lord is appeased. Maybe, my

presence here is meant only as a threat, intending to bring those to

their senses whom it ought to intimidate. It must be so; for were it

otherwise, it would, on the contrary, strike a loud-sounding blow of

greater terror, casting at once dread and death into the very heart of

the country, into the bosom of this immense city. Oh, no! no! the Lord

will have mercy; He will not condemn me to this new affliction. Alas! in

this city my brethren are more numerous and more wretched than in any

other. And must I bring death to them? No! the Lord will have mercy; for,

alas! the seven descendants of my sister are at last all united in this

city. And must I bring death to them? Death! instead of that immediate

assistance they stand so much in need of? For that woman who, like

myself, wanders from one end of the world into the other, has gone now on

her everlasting journey, after having confounded their enemies' plots. In

vain did she foretell that great evils still threatened those who are

akin to me through my sister's blood. The unseen hand by which I am led,

drives that woman away from me, even as though it were a whirlwind that

swept her on. In vain she entreated and implored at the moment she was

leaving those who are so dear to me.--At least, 0 Lord, permit me to stay

until I shall have finished my task! Onward! A few days, for mercy's

sake, only a few days! Onward! I leave these whom I am protecting on the

very brink of an abyss! Onward! Onward!! And the wandering star is

launched afresh on its perpetual course. But her voice traversed through

space, calling me to the assistance of my own! When her voice reached me

I felt that the offspring of my sister were still exposed to fearful

dangers: those dangers are still increasing. Oh, say, say, Lord! shall

the descendants of my sister escape those woes which for so many

centuries have oppressed my race? Wilt Thou pardon me in them? Wilt Thou

punish me in them? Oh! lead them, that they may obey the last wishes of

their ancestor. Guide them, that they may join their charitable hearts,

their powerful strength, their best wisdom, and their immense wealth, and

work together for the future happiness of mankind, thereby, perhaps,

enabled to ransom me from my eternal penalties. Let those divine words of

the Son of Man, "Love ye one another!" be their only aim; and by the

assistance of their all-powerful words, let them contend against and

vanquish those false priests who have trampled on the precepts of love,

of peace, and hope commanded by the Saviour, setting up in their stead

the precepts of hatred, violence, and despair. Those false shepherds,

supported ay the powerful and wealthy of the world, who in all times have

been their accomplices, instead of asking here below a little happiness

for my brethren, who have been suffering and groaning for centuries, dare

to utter, in Thy name, O Lord! that the poor must always be doomed to the

tortures of this world, and that it is criminal in Thine eyes that they

should either wish for or hope a mitigation of their sufferings on earth,

because the happiness of the few and the wretchedness of nearly all

mankind is Thine almighty will. Blasphemies! is it not the contrary of

these homicidal words that is more worthy of the name of Divine will?

Hear, me, O Lord! for mercy's sake. Snatch from their enemies the

descendants of my sister, from the artisan up to the king's son. Do not

permit them to crush the germ of a mighty and fruitful association,

which, perhaps, under Thy protection, may take its place among the

records of the happiness of mankind. Suffer me, O Lord! to unite those

whom they are endeavoring to divide--to defend those whom they are

attacking. Suffer me to bring hope to those from whom hope has fled, to

give courage to those who are weak, to uphold those whom evil threatens,

and to sustain those who would persevere in well-doing. And then,

perhaps, their struggles, their devotedness, their virtues, this miseries

might expiate my sin. Yes, mine--misfortune, misfortune alone, made me

unjust and wicked. O Lord! since Thine almighty hand hath brought me

hither, for some end unknown to me, disarm Thyself, I implore Thee, of

Thine anger, and let not me be the instrument of Thy vengeance! There is

enough of mourning in the earth these two years past--Thy creatures have

fallen by millions in my footsteps. The world is decimated. A veil of

mourning extends from one end of the globe to the other. I have traveled

from Asia even to the Frozen Pole, and death has followed in my wake.

Dost Thou not hear, O Lord! the universal wailings that mount up to Thee?

Have mercy upon all, and upon me. One day, grant me but a single day,

that I may collect the descendants of my sister together, and save them!"

And uttering these words, the wanderer fell upon his knees, and raised

his hands to heaven in a suppliant attitude.

 

Suddenly, the wind howled with redoubled violence; its sharp whistlings

changed to a tempest. The Wanderer trembled, and exclaimed in a voice of

terror, "O Lord! the blast of death is howling in its rage. It appears as

though a whirlwind were lifting me up. Lord, wilt Thou not, then, hear my

prayer? The spectre! O! do I behold the spectre? Yes, there it is; its

cadaverous countenance is agitated by convulsive throes, its red eyes are

rolling in their orbits. Begone! begone! Oh! its hand--its icy hand has

seized on mine! Mercy, Lord, have mercy! 'Onward!' Oh, Lord! this

scourge, this terrible avenging scourge! Must I, then, again carry it

into this city, must my poor wretched brethren be the first to fall under

it--though already so miserable? Mercy, mercy! 'Onward!' And the

descendants of my sister--oh, pray, have mercy, mercy! 'Onward!' O Lord,

have pity on me! I can no longer keep my footing on the ground, the

spectre is dragging me over the brow of the hill; my course is as rapid

as the death-bearing wind that whistles in my track; I already approach

the walls of the city. Oh, mercy, Lord, mercy on the descendants of my

sister--spare them! do not compel me to be their executioner, and let

them triumph over their enemies. Onward, onward! The ground is fleeing

from under me; I am already at the city gate; oh, yet, Lord, yet there is

time; oh, have mercy on this slumbering city, that it may not even now

awaken with the lamentations of terror, of despair and death! O Lord, I

touch the threshold of the gate; verily Thou willest it so then. 'Tis

done--Paris! the scourge is in thy bosom! oh, cursed, cursed evermore am

Onward! on! on!"[34]

 

[34] In 1346, the celebrated Black Death ravaged the earth, presenting the

same symptoms as the cholera, and the same inexplicable phenomena as to

its progress and the results in its route. In 1660 a similar epidemic

decimated the world. It is well known that when the cholera first broke

out in Paris, it had taken a wide and unaccountable leap; and, also

memorable, a north-east wind prevailed during its utmost fierceness.

 

 

 

CHAPTER II. (THE DESCENDANTS OF THE WANDERING JEW.)

 

That lonely wayfarer whom we have heard so plaintively urging to be

relieved of his gigantic burden of misery, spoke of "his sister's

descendants" being of all ranks, from the working man