Go on!'--'And if we perish in our pain, what will become of our little children and our aged mothers?'--'Go on! go on!' And, for eighteen centuries, they and I have continued to struggle forward and to suffer, and no charitable voice has yet pronounced the word 'Enough!'
"Alas! such is my punishment.It is immense, it is two-fold.I suffer in the name of humanity, when I see these wretched multitudes consigned without respite to profitless and oppressive toil.I suffer in the name of my family, when, poor and wandering, I am unable to bring aid to the descendants of my dear sister.But, when the sorrow is above my strength, when I foresee some danger from which I cannot preserve my own, then my thoughts, travelling over the world, go in search of that woman like me accursed, that daughter of a queen, who, like me, the son of a laborer, wanders, and will wander on, till the day of her redemption.[3]
"Once in a century, as two planets draw nigh to each other in their revolutions, I am permitted to meet this woman during the dread week of the Passion.And after this interview, filled with terrible remembrances and boundless griefs, wandering stars of eternity, we pursue our infinite course.
"And this woman, the only one upon earth who, like me, sees the end of every century, and exclaims: `What another?' this woman responds to my thought, from the furthest extremity of the world.She, who alone shares my terrible destiny, has chosen to share also the only interest that has consoled me for so many ages.Those descendants of my dear sister, she too loves, she too protects them.For them she journeys likewise from East to West and from North to South.
"But alas! the invisible hand impels her, the whirlwind carries her away, and the voice speaks in her ear: `Go on!'--Oh that I might finish my sentence!' repeats she also,--Go on!'--'A single hour--only a single hour of repose!'--Go on!'--'I leave those I love on the brink of the abyss.'--
`Go on! Go on!--'
Whilst this man thus went over the hill absorbed in his thoughts, the light evening breeze increased almost to a gale, a vivid flash streamed across the sky, and long, deep whistlings announced the coming of a tempest.
On a sudden this doomed man, who could no longer weep or smile, started with a shudder.No physical pain could reach him, and yet he pressed his hand hastily to his heart, as though he had experienced a cruel pang.
"Oh!" cried he; "I feel it.This hour, many of those whom I love--the descendants of my dear sister--suffer, and are in great peril.Some in the centre of India--some in America--some here in Germany.The struggle recommences, the detestable passions are again awake.Oh, thou that hearest me--thou, like myself wandering and accursed--Herodias! help me to protect them! May my invocation reach thee, in those American solitudes where thou now lingerest--and may we arrive in time!"
Thereon an extraordinary event happened.Night was come.The man made a movement; precipitately, to retrace his steps--but an invisible force prevented him, and carried him forward in the opposite direction.
At this moment, the storm burst forth in its murky majesty.One of those whirlwinds, which tear up trees by the roots and shake the foundations of the rocks, rushed over the hill rapid and loud as thunder.
In the midst of the roaring of the hurricane, by the glare of the fiery flashes, the man with the black mark on his brow was seen descending the hill, stalking with huge strides among the rocks, and between trees bent beneath the efforts of the storm.
The tread of this man was no longer slow, firm, and steady--but painfully irregular, like that of one impelled by an irresistible power, or carried along by the whirl of a frightful wind.In vain he extended his supplicating hands to heaven.Soon he disappeared in the shades of night, and amid the roar of the tempest.
[2]It is known that, according to the legend, the Wandering Jew was a shoemaker at Jerusalem.The Saviour, carrying his cross, passed before the house of the artisan, and asked him to be allowed to rest an instant on the stone bench at his door."Go on! go on!" said the Jew harshly, pushing him away."Thou shalt go on till the end of time," answered the Saviour, in a stern though sorrowful tone.For further details, see the eloquent and learned notice by Charles Magnin, appended to the magnificent poem "Ahasuerus," by Ed.Quinet.-E.S.
[3]According to a legend very little known, for we are indebted to the kindness of M.Maury, the learned sub-librarian of the Institute, Herodias was condemned to wander till the day of judgement, for having asked for the death of John the Baptist, --E.S.