Le Juif errant. English

by Eugène Sue

  CHAPTER XV. THE CONSTANT WANDERER.

  It is night. The moon shines and the stars glimmer in the midst of aserene but cheerless sky; the sharp whistlings of the north wind, thatfatal, dry, and icy breeze, ever and anon burst forth in violent gusts.With its harsh and cutting breath, it sweeps Montmartre's Heights. Onthe highest point of the hills, a man is standing. His long shadow iscast upon the stony, moon-lit ground. He gazes on the immense city,which lies outspread beneath his feet. PARIS--with the dark outline ofits towers, cupolas, domes, and steeples, standing out from the limpidblue of the horizon, while from the midst of the ocean of masonry, risesa luminous vapor, that reddens the starry azure of the sky. It is thedistant reflection of the thousand fires, which at night, the hour ofpleasures, light up so joyously the noisy capital.

  "No," said the wayfarer; "it is not to be. The Lord will not exact it.Is not twice enough?

  "Five centuries ago, the avenging hand of the Almighty drove me hitherfrom the uttermost confines of Asia. A solitary traveller, I had leftbehind me more grief, despair, disaster, and death, than the innumerablearmies of a hundred devastating conquerors. I entered this town, and ittoo was decimated.

  "Again, two centuries ago, the inexorable hand, which leads me throughthe world, brought me once more hither; and then, as the time before,the plague, which the Almighty attaches to my steps, again ravaged thiscity, and fell first on my brethren, already worn out with labor andmisery.

  "My brethren--mine?--the cobbler of Jerusalem, the artisan accursed bythe Lord, who, in my person, condemned the whole race of workmen,ever suffering, ever disinherited, ever in slavery, toiling on like mewithout rest or pause, without recompense or hope, till men, women,and children, young and old, all die beneath the same iron yoke--thatmurderous yoke, which others take in their turn, thus to be borne fromage to age on the submissive and bruised shoulders of the masses.

  "And now, for the third time in five centuries, I reach the summit ofone of the hills that overlook the city. And perhaps I again bring withme fear, desolation, and death.

  "Yet this city, intoxicated with the sounds of its joys and itsnocturnal revelries, does not know--oh! does not know that I am at itsgates.

  "But no, no! my presence will not be a new calamity. The Lord, in hisimpenetrable views, has hitherto led me through France, so as toavoid the humblest hamlet; and the sound of the funeral knell has notaccompanied my passage.

  "And, moreover, the spectre has left me--the green, livid spectre, withits hollow, bloodshot eyes. When I touched the soil of France, its dampand icy hands was no longer clasped in mine--and it disappeared.

  "And yet--I feel that the atmosphere of death is around me.

  "The sharp whistlings of that fatal wind cease not, which, catching mein their whirl, seem to propagate blasting and mildew as they blow.

  "But perhaps the wrath of the Lord is appeased, and my presence here isonly a threat--to be communicated in some way to those whom it shouldintimidate.

  "Yes; for otherwise he would smite with a fearful blow, by firstscattering terror and death here in the heart of the country, in thebosom of this immense city!

  "Oh! no, no! the Lord will be merciful. No! he will not condemn me tothis new torture.

  "Alas! in this city, my brethren are more numerous and miserable thanelsewhere. And should I be their messenger of death?"

  "No! the Lord will have pity. For, alas! the seven descendants of mysister have at length met in this town. And to them likewise should I bethe messenger of death, instead of the help they so much need?

  "For that woman, who like me wanders from one border of the earth to theother, after having once more rent asunder the nets of their enemies,has gone forth upon her endless journey.

  "In vain she foresaw that new misfortunes threatened my sister's family.The invisible hand, that drives me on, drives her on also.

  "Carried away, as of old, by the irresistible whirlwind, at the momentof leaving my kindred to their fate, she in vain cried with supplicatingtone: 'Let me at least, O Lord, complete my task!'--'GO ON!--'A fewdays, in mercy, only a few poor days!'--'GO ON'--'I leave those I loveon the brink of the abyss!'--'GO ON! GO ON!'

  "And the wandering star--again started on its eternal round. And hervoice, passing through space, called me to the assistance of mine own.

  "When that voice readied me, I knew that the descendants of my sisterwere still exposed to frightful perils. Those perils are even now on theincrease.

  "Tell me, O Lord! will they escape the scourge, which for so manycenturies has weighed down our race?

  "Wilt thou pardon me in them? wilt thou punish me in them? Oh, that theymight obey the last will of their ancestor!

  "Oh, that they might join together their charitable hearts, their valorand their strength, their noble intelligence, and their great riches!

  "They would then labor for the future happiness of humanity--they wouldthus, perhaps, redeem me from my eternal punishment!

  "The words of the Son of Man, LOVE YE ONE ANOTHER, will be their onlyend, their only means.

  "By the help of those all-powerful words, they will fight and conquerthe false priests, who have renounced the precepts of love, peace, andhope, for lessons of hatred, violence, and despair.

  "Those false priests, who, kept in pay by the powerful and happy of thisworld, their accomplices in every age, instead of asking here below forsome slight share of well-being for my unfortunate brethren, dare inthy name, O Lord God, to assert that the poor are condemned to endlesssuffering in this world--and that the desire or the hope to suffer lessis a crime in thine eyes--because the happiness of the few, and themisery of nearly the whole human race, is (O blasphemy!) according tothy will. Is not the very contrary of those murderous words alone worthyof divinity!

  "In mercy, hear me, Lord! Rescue from their enemies the descendants ofmy sister--the artisan as the king's son. Do not let them destroy thegerm of so mighty and fruitful an association, which, with thy blessing,would make an epoch in the annals of human happiness!

  "Let me unite them, O Lord, since others would divide them--defend them,since others attack; let me give hope to those who have ceased to hope,courage to those who are brought low with fear--let me raise up thefalling, and sustain those who persevere in the way of the righteous!

  "And, peradventure, their struggles, devotion, virtue, and grief, mayexpiate my fault--that of a man, whom misfortune alone rendered unjustand wicked.

  "Oh! since Thy Almighty hand hath led me hither--to what end I knownot--lay aside Thy wrath, I beseech Thee--let me be no longer theinstrument of Thy vengeance!

  "Enough of woe upon the earth! for the last two years, Thy creatureshave fallen by thousands upon my track. The world is decimated. A veilof mourning extends over all the globe.

  "From Asia to the icy Pole, they died upon the path of the wanderer.Dost Thou not hear the long-drawn sigh that rises from the earth untoThee, O Lord?

  "Mercy for all! mercy for me!--Let me but unite the descendants of mysister for a single day, and they will be saved!"

  As he pronounced these words, the wayfarer sank upon his knees, andraised to heaven, his supplicating hands. Suddenly, the wind blew withredoubled violence; its sharp whistlings were changed into the roar of atempest.

  The traveller shuddered; in a voice of terror he exclaimed: "The blastof death rises in its fury--the whirlwind carries me on--Lord! Thou artthen deaf to my prayer?"

  "The spectre! oh, the spectre! it is again here! its green facetwitching with convulsive spasms--its red eyes rolling in their orbits.Begone! begone!--its hand, oh! its icy hand has again laid hold of mine.Have mercy, heaven!"

  "GO ON!"

  "Oh, Lord! the pestilence--the terrible plague--must I carry it intothis city?--And my brethren will perish the first--they, who are sosorely smitten even now! Mercy!"

  "GO ON!"

  "And the descendants of my sister. Mercy! Mercy!"

  "GO ON!"

  "Oh, Lord, have pity!--I can no longer keep
my ground; the spectre dragsme to the slope of the hill; my walk is rapid as the deadly blast thatrages behind me; already do I behold the city gates. Have mercy, Lord,on the descendants of my sister! Spare them; do not make me theirexecutioner; let them triumph over their enemies!"

  "GO ON! GO ON!"

  "The ground flies beneath my feet; there is the city gate. Lord, it isyet time! Oh, mercy for that sleeping town! Let it not waken to criesof terror, despair, and death! Lord, I am on the threshold. Must itbe?--Yes, it is done. Paris, the plague is in thy bosom. The curse--oh,the eternal curse!"

  "GO ON! GO ON! GO ON!"