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‘The very flower of Israel! Some one has poisoned your sacred ear against them.’
‘No one, worthy Jabaster. I have no counsellor except yourself. They may be the flower of Israel, but they are not the fruit. Good warriors, bad subjects: excellent means, by which we may accomplish greater ends. I’ll have no dreamers in authority. I must have practical men about me, practical men. See how Abner, Asriel, Ithamar, Medad, see how these conform to what surrounds them, yet invincible captains, invincible captains. But then they are practical men, Jabaster; they have eyes and use them. They know the difference of times and seasons. But this Abidan, he has no other thought but the rebuilding of the temple: a narrow-souled bigot, who would sacrifice the essence to the form. The rising temple soon would fall again with such constructors. Why, sir, what think you, this same Abidan preached in the camp against my entry into what the quaint fanatic chooses to call “Babylon,” because he had seen what he calls a vision.’
‘There was a time your Majesty thought not so ill of visions.’
‘Am I Abidan, sir? Are other men to mould their conduct or their thoughts by me? In this world I stand alone, a being of a different order from yourselves, incomprehensible even to you. Let this matter cease. I’ll hear no more and have heard too much. To-morrow at council.’
The high priest withdrew in silence.
‘He is gone; at length I am alone. I cannot bear the presence of these men, except in action. Their words, even their looks, disturb the still creation of my brooding thought. I am once more alone, and loneliness hath been the cradle of my empire. Now I do feel inspired. There needs no mummery now to work a marvel.
‘The sceptre of Solomon! It may be so. What then? Here’s now the sceptre of Alroy. What’s that without his mind? The legend said that none should free our people but he who bore the sceptre of great Solomon. The legend knew that none could gain that sceptre, but with a mind to whose supreme volition the fortunes of the world would bow like fate. I gained it; I confronted the spectre monarchs in their sepulchre; and the same hand that grasped their shadowy rule hath seized the diadem of the mighty caliphs by the broad rushing of their imperial river.
‘The world is mine: and shall I yield the prize, the universal and heroic prize, to realise the dull tradition of some dreaming priest, and consecrate a legend? He conquered Asia, and he built the temple. Are these my annals? Shall this quick blaze of empire sink to a glimmering and a twilight sway over some petty province, the decent patriarch of a pastoral horde? Is the Lord of Hosts so slight a God, that we must place a barrier to His sovereignty, and fix the boundaries of Omnipotence between the Jordan and the Lebanon? It is not thus written; and were it so, I’ll pit my inspiration against the prescience of my ancestors. I also am a prophet, and Bagdad shall be my Zion. The daughter of the Voice! Well, I am clearly summoned. I am the Lord’s servant, not Jabaster’s. Let me make His worship universal as His power; and where’s the priest shall dare impugn my faith, because His altars smoke on other hills than those of Judah?
‘I must see Honain. That man has a great mind. He alone can comprehend my purpose. Universal empire must not be founded on sectarian prejudices and exclusive rights. Jabaster would massacre the Moslemin like Amalek; the Moslemin, the vast majority, and most valuable portion, of my subjects. He would depopulate my empire, that it might not be said that Ishmael shared the heritage of Israel. Fanatic! I’ll send him to conquer Judah. We must conciliate. Something must be done to bind the conquered to our conquering fortunes. That bold Sultan of Roum: I wish Abner had opposed him. To run off with the harem! I have half a mind to place myself at the head of the pursuing force, and– Passion and policy alike combine: and yet Honain is the man; I might send him on a mission. Could we make terms? I detest treaties. My fancy flies from all other topics. I must see him. Could I but tell him all I think! This door, whither leads it? Hah! methinks I do remember yon glittering gallery! No one in attendance. The discipline of our palace is somewhat lax. My warriors are no courtiers. What an admirable marshal of the palace Honain would make! Silence everywhere. So! ‘tis well. These saloons I have clearly passed through before. Could I but reach the private portal by the river side, unseen or undetected! ‘Tis not impossible. Here are many dresses. I will disguise myself. Trusty scimitar, thou hast done thy duty, rest awhile. ‘Tis lucky I am beardless. I shall make a capital eunuch. So! a handsome robe. One dagger for a pinch, slippers powdered with pearls,66a caftan of cloth of gold, a Cachemire girdle, and a pelisse of sables. One glance at the mirror. Good! I begin to look like the conqueror of the world!’
It was twilight: a small and solitary boat, with a single rower, glided along the Tigris, and stopped at the archway of a house that descended into the river. It stopped, the boatman withdrew the curtains, and his single passenger disembarked, and ascended the stairs of the archway.
The stranger reached the landing-place, and unfastening a golden grate, proceeded along a gallery, and entered a beautiful saloon of white and green marble, opening into gardens. No one was in the apartment; the stranger threw himself upon a silver couch, placed at the side of a fountain that rose from the centre of the chamber and fell into a porphyry basin. A soft whisper roused the stranger from his reverie, a soft whisper that faintly uttered the word ‘Honain.’ The stranger looked up, a figure, enveloped in a veil, that touched the ground, advanced from the gardens.
‘Honain!’ said the advancing figure, throwing off the veil. ‘Honain! Ah! the beautiful mute returned!’
A woman more lovely than the rosy morn, beheld an unexpected guest. They stood, the lady and the stranger, gazing on each other in silence. A man, with a light, entered the extremity of the hall. Carefully he closed the portal, slowly he advanced, with a subdued step; he approached the lady and the stranger.
‘Alroy!’ said the astonished Honain, the light fell from his hand.
‘Alroy!’ exclaimed the lady, with a bewildered air: she turned pale, and leant against a column.
‘Daughter of the caliph!’ said the leader of Israel; and he advanced, and fell upon his knee, and stole her passive hand. ‘I am indeed that Alroy to whom destiny has delivered the empire of thy sire; but the Princess Schirene can have nothing to fear from one who values above all his victories this memorial of her goodwill;’ and he took from his breast a rosary of pearls and emeralds, and, rising slowly, left it in her trembling hand.
The princess turned and hid her face in her arm, which reclined against the column.
‘My kind Honain,’ said Alroy, ‘you thought me forgetful of the past; you thought me ungrateful. My presence here proves that I am not so. I come to enquire all your wishes. I come to gratify and to fulfil them, if that be in my power.’
‘Sire,’ replied Honain, who had recovered from the emotion in which he rarely indulged, and from the surprise which seldom entrapped him, ‘Sire, my wishes are slight. You see before you the daughter of my master. An interview, for which I fear I shall not easily gain that lady’s pardon, has made you somewhat acquainted with her situation and her sentiments. The Princess Schirene seized the opportunity of the late convulsions to escape from a mode of life long repugnant to all her feelings, and from a destiny at which she trembled. I was her only counsellor, and she may feel assured, a faithful, although perhaps an indiscreet one. The irresistible solicitation of the inhabitants that I should become their deputy to their conqueror prevented us from escaping as we had intended. Since then, from the movement of the troops, I have deemed it more prudent that we should remain at present here, although I have circulated the intelligence of my departure. In the kiosk of my garden, the princess is now a willing prisoner. At twilight she steals forth for the poor relaxation of my society, to listen to the intelligence which I acquire during the day in disguise. The history, sire, is short and simple. We are in your power: but instead of deprecating your interference, I now solicit your protection.’
‘Dear Honain, ‘tis needless. The Princess Schirene has only to express a wish that it may be fulfilled. I came to speak with you on weighty matters, Honain, but I retire, for I am an intruder now. Tomorrow, if it please you, at this hour, and in this disguise, I will again repair hither. In the meantime, this lady may perchance express to you her wishes, and you will bear them to me. If an escort to any country, if any palace or province for her rule and residence– But I will not offer to one who should command. Lady! farewell. Pardon the past! Tomorrow, good Honain! prythee let us meet. Good even!’
‘The royal brow was clouded,’ said Ithamar to Asriel, as, departing from the council, they entered their magnificent barque.
‘With thought; he has so much upon his mind, ‘tis wondrous how he bears himself.’
‘I have seen him gay on the eve of battle, and lively though calm, with weightier matters than now oppress him. His brow was clouded, but not, me-thinks, with thought; one might rather say with temper. Mark you, how he rated Jabaster?’
‘Roundly! The stern priest writhed under it; and as he signed the ordinance, shivered his reed in rage. I never saw a man more pale.’
‘Or more silent. He looked like an embodied storm. I tell you what, Asriel, that stern priest loves not us.’
‘Have you just discovered that secret, Ithamar? We are not of his school. Nor, in good faith, is our ruler. I am glad to see the king is so staunch about Abidan. Were he in council he would support Jabaster.’
‘Oh! his mere tool. What think you of Scherirah?’
‘I would not trust him. As long as there is fighting, he will meddle with nothing else; but, mark my words, Ithamar: in quiet times he will support the priest.’
‘Medad will have a place in council. He is with us.’
‘Heart and soul. I would your brother were here, Asriel: he alone could balance Jabaster. Alroy loves your brother like himself. Is it true that he marries the Lady Miriam?’
‘So the king wishes. ‘Twill be a fine match for Abner.’
‘The world is all before us. I wonder who will be viceroy of Syria.’
‘When we conquer it. Not Scherirah. Mark my words, Ithamar: he never will have a government. You or I perchance. For my own part, I would rather remain as I am.’
‘Yours is a good post; the best.’
‘With the command of the city. It should go with the guard.’
‘Well, then, help me in getting Syria, and you can ask for my command.’
‘Agreed. Jabaster will have it that, in a Hebrew monarchy, the chief priest is in fact the grand vizir.’
‘Alroy will be his own minister.’
‘I am not so sure of that. He may choose to command the Syrian expedition in person; he must leave some head at Bagdad. Jabaster is no general.’
‘Oh! none at all. Alroy will be glad to leave him at home. The Sultan of Roum may not be always so merciful.’
‘Hah! hah! that was an escape!’
‘By heavens! I thought it was all over. You made a fine charge.’
‘I shall never forget it. I nearly ran over Jabaster.’
‘Would that you had!’
It is the tender twilight hour when maidens in their lonely bower sigh softer than the eve! The languid rose her head upraises, and listens to the nightingale, while his wild and thrilling praises from his trembling bosom gush: the languid rose her head upraises, and listens with a blush.
In the clear and rosy air, sparkling with a single star, the sharp and spiry cypress-tree rises like a gloomy thought, amid the flow of revelry. A singing bird, a single star, a solemn tree, an odorous flower, are dangerous in the tender hour, when maidens in their twilight bower sigh softer than the eve!
The daughter of the caliph comes forth to breathe the air: her lute her only company. She sits her down by a fountain’s side, and gazes on the waterfall. Her cheek reclines upon her arm, like fruit upon a graceful bough. Very pensive is the face of that bright and beauteous lady. She starts; a warm voluptuous lip presses her soft and idle hand. It is her own gazelle. With his large and lustrous eyes, more eloquent than many a tongue, the fond attendant mutely asks the cause of all her thoughtfulness.
‘Ah! bright gazelle! Ah! bright gazelle!’ the princess cried, the princess cried; ‘thy lips are softer than the swan, thy lips are softer than the swan; but his breathed passion when they pressed, my bright gazelle! my bright gazelle!
‘Ah! bright gazelle! Ah! bright gazelle!’ the princess cried, the princess cried; ‘thine eyes are like the stars of night, thine eyes are like the stars of night; but his glanced passion when they gazed, my bright gazelle! my bright gazelle!’
She seized her lute, she wildly threw her fingers o’er its thrilling strings, and, gazing on the rosy sky, to borrow all its poetry, thus, thus she sang—thus, thus she sang:
He rose in beauty like the mornThat brightens in bur Syrian skies;Dark passion glittered in his eyes,And Empire sparkled in his form!My soul! thou art the dusky earth,On which his sunlight fell;The dusky earth, that dim no longer,Now breathes with light, now beams with love!He rose in beauty, like the mornThat brightens in our Syrian skies;Dark passion glittered in his eyes,And Empire sparkled in his form!‘Once more, once more! Ah! sing that strain once more!’
The princess started and looked round. Before her stood Alroy. She rose, she would have retired; but, advancing, the conqueror stole her hand.
‘Fair princess,’ said Alroy, ‘let it not be said that my presence banished at once beauty and music.’
‘Sire, I doubt not that Honain awaits you. Let me summon him.’
‘Lady, it is not with Honain that I would speak.’
He seated himself by her side. His countenance was pale, his heart trembled.
‘This garden,’ at length he observed in a low voice, ‘this garden, a brief, brief space has glided away since first I wandered within its beauteous limits, and yet those days seem like the distant memory of another life.’
‘It is another life,’ said the princess. ‘Ourselves, the world, all forms and usages, all feelings and all habits, verily they have changed, as if we had breathed within another sphere.’
‘‘Tis a great change.’
‘Since first you visited my bright kiosk. Pretty bauble! I pray it may be spared.’
‘It is sacred, like yourself.’
‘You are a courteous conqueror.’
‘I am no conqueror, fair Schirene, but a slave more lowly than when I first bowed humbly in your presence.’
‘And bore away a token not forgotten. Your rosary is here.’
‘Let me claim it. It has been my consolation in much peril, beauteous lady. On the eve of battle I wound it round my heart.’
She held forth the rosary, and turned away her head. Her hand remained in his; he pressed it to his lips. His right arm retained her hand; he wound the other round her waist, as he fell upon his knee.
‘O beautiful! O more than beautiful! for thou to me art like a dream unbroken,’ exclaimed the young leader of Israel, ‘let me, let me breathe my adoration. I offer thee not empire: I offer thee not wealth; I offer thee not all the boundless gratification of magnificent fancy,—these may be thine, but all these thou hast proved; but, if the passionate affections of a spirit which never has yielded to the power of woman or the might of man, if the deep devotion of the soul of Alroy, be deemed an offering meet for the shrine of thy surpassing loveliness, I worship thee, Schirene. I worship thee, I worship thee!
‘Since I first gazed upon thee, since thy beauty first rose upon my presence like a star bright with my destiny, in the still sanctuary of my secret love, thy idol has ever rested. Then, then, I was a thing whose very touch thy creed might count a contumely. I have avenged the insults of long centuries in the best blood of Asia; I have returned, in glory and in pride, to claim my ancient sceptre; but sweeter far than vengeance, sweeter far than the quick gathering of my sacred tribes, the rush of triumph and the blaze of empire, is this brief moment of adoring love, wherein I pour the passion of my life!
‘O my soul, my life, my very being! thou art silent, but thy silence is sweeter than others’ speech. Yield, yield thee, dear Schirene, yield to thy suppliant! Thy faith, thy father’s faith, thy native customs, these, these shall be respected, beauteous lady! Pharaoh’s daughter yielded her dusky beauty to my great ancestor. Thy face is like the bright inspiring day! Let it not be said that the daughter of the Nile shared Israel’s crown, the daughter of the Tigris spurned our sceptre. I am not Solomon, but I am one that, were Schirene the partner of my throne, would make his glowing annals read like a wearisome and misty tale to our surpassing lustre!’
He ceased, the princess turned her hitherto hidden countenance, and bowed it on his heart. ‘O Alroy!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have no creed, no country, no life, but thee!’
‘The king is late to-day.’
‘Is it true, Asriel, there is an express from Hamadan?’
‘Of no moment, Ithamar. I have private letters from Abner. All is quiet.’
‘‘Tis much past the hour. When do you depart, Scherirah?’
‘The troops are ready. I wait orders. This morning’s council will perchance decide.’
‘This morning’s council is devoted to the settlement of the civil affairs of the capital,’ remarked Jabaster.
‘Indeed!’ said Asriel. ‘Is your report prepared, Jabaster?’
‘‘Tis here,’ replied the high priest. ‘The Hebrew legislator requires but little musing to shape his order. He has a model which time cannot destroy, nor thought improve.’
Ithamar and Asriel exchanged significant glances. Scherirah looked solemn. There was a pause, which was broken by Asriel.
‘‘Tis a noble city, this Bagdad. I have not yet visited your quarters, Jabaster. You are well placed.’
‘As it may be. I hope we shall not tarry here long. The great point is still not achieved.’
‘How far is it to the holy city?’ enquired Scherirah.
‘A month’s march,’ replied Jabaster.
‘And when you get there?’ enquired Ithamar.
‘You may fight with the Franks,’ replied Asriel.
‘Jabaster, how large is Jerusalem?’ enquired Ithamar. ‘Is it true, as I have sometimes heard, that it is not bigger than the serail here, gardens and all?’
‘Its glory hath departed,’ replied the high priest; ‘the bricks have fallen, but we will rebuild with marble; and Zion, that is now without the Christian walls, shall yet sparkle, as in the olden time, with palaces and pavilions.’
A flourish of trumpets, the portals flew open, and Alroy entered, leaning on the arm of the Envoy of Bagdad.
‘Valiant leaders,’ said Alroy to the astonished chieftains, ‘in this noble stranger, you see one like yourselves entrusted with my unbounded confidence. Jabaster, behold thy brother!’
‘Honain! art thou Honain?’ exclaimed the pontiff starting from his seat. ‘I have a thousand messengers after thee.’ With a countenance alternately pallid with surprise and burning with affection, Jabaster embraced his brother, and, overpowered with emotion, hid his face on his shoulder.
‘Sire,’ at length exclaimed the high priest, in a low and tremulous voice, ‘I must pray your pardon that for an instant in this character I have indulged in any other thoughts than those that may concern your welfare. Tis past: and you, who know all, will forgive me.’
‘All that respects Jabaster must concern my welfare. He is the pillar of my empire;’ and holding forth his hand, Alroy placed the high priest on his right. ‘Scherirah, you depart this eve.’
The rough captain bowed in silence.
‘What is this?’ continued Alroy, as Jabaster offered him a scroll. ‘Ah! your report. “Order of the Tribes,” “Service of the Lévites,” “Princes of the People,” “Elders of Israel!” The day may come when this may be effected. At present, Jabaster, we must be moderate, and content ourselves with arrangements which may ensure that order shall be maintained, property respected, and justice administered. Is it true that a gang has rifled a mosque?’
‘Sire! of that I would speak. They are no plunderers, but men, perhaps too zealous, who have read and who have remembered that “Ye shall utterly destroy all the places wherein the nations which ye shall possess, served their gods upon the high mountains, and upon the hill, and under every green tree. And ye shall overthrow their altars, and–“’
‘Jabaster, is this a synagogue? Come I to a council of valiant statesmen or dreaming Rabbis? For a thousand years we have been quoting the laws we dared not practise. Is it with such aid that we captured Nishapur and crossed the Tigris? Valiant, wise Jabaster, thou art worthy of better things, and capable of all. I entreat thee, urge such matters for the last time. Are these fellows in custody?’
‘They were in custody. I have freed them.’
‘Freed them! Hang them! Hang them in the most public grove. Is this the way to make the Moslem a duteous subject? Jabaster! Israel honours thee; and I, its chief, know that one more true, more valiant, or more learned, crowds not around our standard; but I see, the caverns of the Caucasus are not a school for empire.’
‘Sire, I had humbly deemed the school for empire was the law of Moses.’
‘Ay! adapted to these times.’
‘Can aught divine be changed?’
‘Am I as tall as Adam? If man, the crown, the rose of all this fair creation, the most divine of all divine inventions, if Time have altered even this choicest of all godlike works, why shall it spare a law made but to rule his conduct? Good Jabaster, we must establish the throne of Israel, that is my mission, and for the means, no matter how, or where. Asriel, what news of Medad?’
‘All is quiet between the Tigris and Euphrates. It would be better to recall his division, which has been much harassed. I thought of relieving him by Abidan.’
‘I think so, too. We may as well keep Abidan out of the city. If the truth were known, I’ll wager some of his company plundered the mosque. We must issue a proclamation on that subject. My good Jabaster, we’ll talk over these matters alone. At present I will leave you with your brother. Scherirah, sup with me to-night; before you quit Asriel, come with me to my cabinet.’
‘I must see the king!’
‘Holy priest, his highness has retired. It is impossible.’
‘I must see the king. Worthy Pharez, I take all peril on myself.’
‘Indeed his highness’ orders are imperative. You cannot see him.’
‘Knowest thou who I am?’
‘One whom all pious Hebrews reverence.’
‘I say I must see the king.’
‘Indeed, indeed, holy Jabaster, it cannot be.’
‘Shall Israel perish for a menial’s place? Go to; I will see him.’
‘Nay! if you will, I’ll struggle for my duty.’
‘Touch not the Lord’s anointed. Dog, you shall suffer for this!’
So saying, Jabaster threw aside Pharez, and, with the attendant clinging to his robes, rushed into the royal chamber.
‘What is all this?’ exclaimed Alroy, starting from the divan. ‘Jabaster! Pharez, withdraw! How now, is Bagdad in insurrection?’
‘Worse, much worse, Israel soon will be.’
‘Ay!’
‘My fatal brother has told me all, nor would I sleep, until I lifted up my voice to save thee.’
‘Am I in danger?’
‘In the wilderness, when the broad desert quivered beneath thy trembling feet, and the dark heavens poured down their burning torrents, thou wert less so. In that hour of death, One guarded thee, who never forgets His fond and faithful offspring, and now, when He has brought thee out of the house of bondage; now, when thy fortunes, like a noble cedar, swell in the air and shadow all the land; thou, the very leader of His people, His chosen one, for whom He hath worked such marvels, thy heart is turned from thy fathers’ God, and hankers after strange abominations.’
Through the broad arch that led into the gardens of the serail, the moonlight fell upon the tall figure and the upraised arm of the priest; Alroy stood with folded arms at some distance, watching Jabaster as he spoke, with a calm but searching glance. Suddenly he advanced with a quick step, and, placing his hand upon Jabaster’s arm, said, in a low, enquiring tone, ‘You are speaking of this marriage?’