



Produced by David Widger and Pat Castevens





THE WANDERING JEW

By Eugene Sue



BOOK VIII.



PART THIRD.--THE REDEMPTION.


I.        The Wandering Jew's Chastisement
II.       The Descendants of the Wandering Jew
III.      The Attack
IV.       The Wolves and the Devourers
V.        The Return
VI.       The Go-Between
VII.      Another Secret
VIII.     The Confession
IX.       Love
X.        The Execution
XI.       The Champs-Elysees
XII.      Behind the Scenes
XIII.     Up with the Curtain
XIV.      Death



PART THIRD.--THE REDEMPTION.



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
I. 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 to the king's son.
They were seven in number, who had, in the year 1832, been led to Paris,
directly or indirectly, by a bronze medal which distinguished them from
others, bearing these words:-VICTIM of L. C. D. J. Pray for me!
-----PARIS, February the 13th, 1682.

IN PARIS, Rue St. Francois, No. 3, In a century and a half you will be.
February the 13th, 1832. -----PRAY FOR ME!

The son of the King of Mundi had lost his father and his domains in India
by the irresistible march of the English, and was but in title Prince
Djalma. Spite of attempts to make his departure from the East delayed
until after the period when he could have obeyed his medal's command, he
had reached France by the second month of 1832. Nevertheless, the results
of shipwreck had detained him from Paris till after that date. A second
possessor of this token had remained unaware of its existence, only
discovered by accident. But an enemy who sought to thwart the union of
these seven members, had shut her up in a mad-house, from which she was
released only after that day. Not alone was she in imprisonment. An old
Bonapartist, General Simon, Marshal of France, and Duke de Ligny, had
left a wife in Russian exile, while he (unable to follow Napoleon to St.
Helena) continued to fight the English in India by means of Prince
Djalma's Sepoys, whom he drilled. On the latter's defeat, he had meant to
accompany his young friend to Europe, induced the more by finding that
the latter's mother, a Frenchwoman, had left him such another bronze
medal as he knew his wife to have had.

Unhappily, his wife had perished in Siberia, without his knowing it, any
more than he did, that she had left twin daughters, Rose and Blanche.
Fortunately for them, one who had served their father in the Grenadiers
of the Guard. Francis Baudoin, nicknamed Dagobert, undertook to fulfil
the dying mother's wishes, inspired by the medal. Saving a check at
Leipsic, where one Morok the lion-tamer's panther had escaped from its
cage and killed Dagobert's horse, and a subsequent imprisonment (which
the Wandering Jew's succoring hand had terminated) the soldier and his
orphan charges had reached Paris in safety and in time. But there, a
renewal of the foe's attempt had gained its end. By skillful devices,
Dagobert and his son Agricola were drawn out of the way while Rose and
Blanche Simon were decoyed into a nunnery, under the eyes of Dagobert's
wife. But she had been bound against interfering by the influence of the
Jesuit confessional. The fourth was M. Hardy, a manufacturer, and the
fifth, Jacques Rennepont, a drunken scamp of a workman,