Ben-Hur’s Chariot Race.The trumpet sounded short and sharp. The starters, one for each chariot, leaped down, ready to give assistance if any of the fours proved unmanageable. Again the trumpet blew, and simultaneously the gate-keepers threw[765]the stalls open. Forth from each stall, like missiles in a volley from so many great guns, rushed[766]the six contesting fours—the Corinthian’s, Messala’s, the Athenian’s, the Byzantine’s, the Sidonian’s, and Ben-Hur’s—and the vast assemblage rose[767]and, leaping upon the benches, filled[768]the circus with yells and screams.The competitors were under view from nearly every part[769]of the circus, yet the race was not begun; they had first to make successfully the chalked line, stretched for the purpose of equalizing the start. If it were dashed upon, discomfiture of man and horses might occur; on the other hand, to approach it timidly was to incur the hazard of being thrown behind in the beginning of the race—a certain loss of the great advantage of being next the wall[770]on the inner line of the course.Each driver looked first for the rope, then for the coveted inner line. With all six aiming at the same point[771]and speeding furiously, a collision seemed inevitable. Quick the eye, steady the hand, unerring the judgment required. The fours neared the rope together. Ben-Hur was on the extreme left[772]of the six. At Messala, who was more than an antagonist to him, he gave one searching look, and saw the soul of the man, cunning, cruel, desperate, in a tension of watchfulness and fierce resolve.In that brief instant all his former relations with Messala came before him. First, happy childhood, when, loving and beloved, they played together. Then, manhood that brought a change in Messala, and the Roman’s inborn contempt of Jews asserted itself and broke the friendship. Then the bitter day, when, by the accidental falling of a loose tile, the Roman procurator was nearly killed, and he, Ben-Hur, was accused of willfully throwing the missile. One word from Messala would have saved the family from ruin, but the word was not spoken. Nay, more, it was Messala that urged on the Roman authorities and prevented even a fair trial of the case. It was Messala’s influence that had banished[773]him to the galleys for life, that had consigned his mother and sister to an uncertain fate, whose very uncertainty was more torture[774]than their certain death would have been. It was Messala that had stolen his property and with it had bought the silence of the authorities on the cruel deeds; and was it not money that belonged to the House of Hur that Messala was betting with in this very race? Was it human nature[775]to resist an opportunity for vengeance like this? No.[776]At whatever cost[777]he would humble his enemy.He saw that Messala’s rush would, if there was no collision, and the rope fell, give him the wall. Therefore, he yielded it for the time. Just then the trumpeter blew a signal. The judges dropped[778]the rope. And not an instant too soon, for the hoof of one of Messala’s horses struck it as it fell. The Roman shook out[779]his long lash, loosed the reins, leaned forward, and with a triumphant shout[780]took the wall.“Jove withus![781]Jove withus!”[781a]yelled the Roman faction, in a frenzy of delight.“Jove with us!”[782]screamed a young nobleman.“He wins![783]Jove with us!” answered his associates.Messala having passed, the Corinthian was the only contestant on the Athenian’s right, and to his side he tried to turn his four; but the wheel of the Byzantine, who was next on the left, struck the tail-piece of his chariot, knocking[784]his feet from under him. There was a crash, a scream of rage and fear, and the unfortunate Athenian fell[785]under the hoofs of his own steeds. Sanballat, a friend of Ben-Hur, turned to a group of Roman noblemen.“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!”[786]he cried.“Taken!”[787]answered one of the group.“Another hundred on the Jew!” shouted Sanballat. Nobody appeared to hear him. The situation below was too absorbing, and they were too busy shouting, “Messala! Messala! Jove with us!”While the spectators were shivering at the Athenian’s mishap, and the Sidonian, Byzantine, and Corinthian were striving to avoid involvement in the ruin, Ben-Hur drew head to the right,[788]and, with all the speed of his Arabs, darted[789]across the trails of his opponents, and took the course[790]neck and neck with Messala, though on the outside. And now, racing together, side by side, a narrow interval between them, the two neared the second goal. Making the turn here was considered the most telling test of a charioteer. A hush[791]fell over the circus. Then, it would seem, Messala observed Ben-Hurand recognized him, and at once the audacity of the man flamed out.“Down, Eros![792]up, Mars!”[793]he shouted, whirling his lash. “Down, Eros! up, Mars!” he repeated, and gave the Arab steeds of Ben-Hur a cut, the like of which they had never known.The blow was seen in every quarter. The silence deepened and the boldest held his breath.[794]The affrighted four sprang forward[795]as with one impulse, and forward leaped[796]the car. The car trembled with a dizzy lurch, but Ben-Hur kept his place and gave the horses free rein, and called to them in a soothing voice, trying to guide them round[797]the dangerous turn, and before the fever of the people began to abate he had back the mastery. Nor that only; on approaching the first goal he was again side by side with Messala, bearing with him the sympathy and admiration of every one[798]not a Roman. Even Messala, with all his boldness, felt it unsafe to trifle further.On[799]whirled the cars. Three rounds were concluded; still Messala held the inside position; still Ben-Hur moved with him side by side; still the other competitors followed as before. The contest began to have the appearance of a double race, Messala and Ben-Hur in the first, the Corinthian, Sidonian, and Byzantine in the second. In the fifth round the Sidonian succeeded in getting a place outside Ben-Hur, but lost it directly. The sixth round was entered upon without change of relative position. Gradually the speed had been quickened; men and beasts seemed to know alike that the final crisis was near. The interest, which from the beginninghad centred chiefly in the struggle between the Roman and the Jew, with an intense general sympathy for the latter, was fast changing to anxiety on his account. On all the benches the spectators bent forward, motionless.“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!”[800]cried Sanballat to the Romans.There was no reply.“A talent, or five talents, or ten;[801]choose ye!”“I will take thy sestertii,” answered a Roman youth.“Do not so,” interposed a friend.“Why?”“Messala has reached his utmost speed. See him[802]lean over his chariot-rim, the reins loose as flying ribbons, then look at the Jew!”“By Hercules!” replied the youth, “I see, I see! If the gods help him not, he will be run away with by the Israelite. No; not yet! Look![803]Jove with us! Jove with us!”If it were true that Messala had gained his utmost speed, he was slowly but certainly beginning to forge ahead. His horses were running with their heads low down; from the balcony their bodies appeared actually to skim the earth; their nostrils showed blood-red in expansion; their eyes seemed straining in their sockets. The good steeds were doing their best! How long could they keep the pace? It was but the commencement of the sixth round. On they dashed! As they neared the second goal, Ben-Hur turned in behind[804]the Roman’s car. The joy of the Messala faction reached its bound. They screamed, and howled, and tossed[805]their colors, and Sanballat filled his tablets with their wagers.Ben-Hur was hardly holding a place at the tail of his enemy’s car.Along the home-stretch—sixth round—Messala leading; next him, pressing close, Ben-Hur. Thus to the first goal, and around it, Messala, fearful of losing his place, hugged the stony wall with perilous clasp; a foot to the left[806]and he had been dashed[807]to pieces; yet when the turn was finished, no man, looking at the wheel-tracks of the two cars, could have said, “Here[808]went Messala, there[809]the Jew.” They left but one trace behind them.And now all the people drew a long breath, for the beginning of the end was at hand. First, the Sidonian gave the scourge to his four, and they dashed[810]desperately forward, promising for an instant to go to the front. The effort ended in promise. Next, the Byzantine and the Corinthian each made the trial with like result, after which they were practically out of the race. Thereupon, all the factions except the Romans joined hope in Ben-Hur, and openly indulged their feeling.“Ben-Hur! Ben-Hur!”[811]they shouted. “Speed thee,[812]Jew!”“Take the wall now!”“On![813]loose the Arabs! Give them rein and scourge!”“Let him not have the turn on thee again. Now or never!”[814]Either he did not hear, or could not do better, for half-way round the course and he was still following; at the second goal, even still no change.And now, to make the turn, Messala began to draw in[815]hisleft-hand steeds. His spirit was high; the Roman genius was still present. On the pillars,[816]only six hundred feet away, were fame, fortune, promotion, and a triumph[817]ineffably sweetened by hate,[818]all in store for him! That moment Ben-Hur leaned forward over his Arabs and gave them the reins.[819]Out flew[820]the many-folded lash in his hand; over the backs of the startled steeds it writhed[821]and hissed,[822]and hissed[823]and writhed[824]again and again, and, though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in its quick report. Instantly, not one, but the four as one, answered with a leap[825]that landed them alongside the Roman’s car. Messala, on the perilous edge of the goal, heard but dared not look to see what the awakening portended. The thousands on the benches understood it all. They saw the four close outside Messala’s outer wheel, Ben-Hur’s inner wheel behind the other’s car. Then, with a cunning touch[826]of the reins, Ben-Hur caught Messala’s fragile wheel with the iron-shod point of his axle and crushed[827]it. There was a crash loud enough to send a thrill through the circus, and out over[828]the course a spray of shining white and yellow flinders flew. Down on its right side toppled the bed of the Roman’s chariot. There was a rebound, as of the axle hitting the hard earth; another and another; then the car went to pieces, and Messala, entangled in the reins, pitched forward[829]headlong, and lay still, crushed, and bleeding, and crippled for life. Above the noises of the race arose one voice, that of Ben-Hur:[830]“On, Altair! On, Rigel! What, Antares! dost thou lingernow? Good horse-oho, Aldebaran! I hear them singing in the tents. I hear the children singing, and the women singing of the stars, of Altair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, victory—and the song will never end. Well done! On, Antares! The tribe is waiting for us, and the master is waiting! ’tis done! ’tis done! Ha! ha! We have overthrown the proud! The hand that smote us is in the dust! Ours the glory! Ha! ha!—steady! The work is done—soho! Rest!”And Ben-Hur turned the goal of victory and revenge,[831]and the race was won![832]—Gen. Lew Wallace.Gestures.[765]B. V. H. F.[766]H. F.[767]B. raised P.[768]B. A. O.[769]B. H. O.[770]H. F.[771]Ind. H. F.[772]Left H. O.[773]H. L.[774]P. D. O.[775]H. F.[776]Cli. D.[777]H. O.[778]P. Sp.[779]Sp.[780]Throw up fist.[781]B. thrown outward, emphasizeus.[782]A. O.[783]Point to Messala and look around.[784]V. D. Sw.[785]D. F.[786]To left, raise hand.[787]Ind. H. O.[788]Sw. to H. O.[789]Sp.[790]H. F.[791]B. P. H. O.[792]Whip hand Cli. D. F.[793]Up.[794]Hand to breast.[795]H. F.[796]Imp.[797]H. Sw.[798]B. H. O.[799]H. F.[800]To left, raise hand.[801]Repeat.[802]Ind. H. F.[803]H. F.[804]H. F.[805]A. Sw.[806]Left H. F. Sp.[807]Left D. F.[808]-[809]Designate.[810]H. F.[811]A. Sw.[812]H. F.[813]H. F.[814]Cli. raised.[815]Left Sp.[816]Ind. H. F.[817]A. O.[818]Cli. D.[819]B. Sp.[820]Sp.[821]-[822]-[823]-[824]Motion as expressed.[825]H. F.[826]Sp.[827]P. D. F.[828]P. D. Sw.[829]Sp.[830]Chant this on two tones of the voice, higher pitch for important words and lower for unimportant, holding reins in both hands.[831]A. O.[832]H. F. strong.
The trumpet sounded short and sharp. The starters, one for each chariot, leaped down, ready to give assistance if any of the fours proved unmanageable. Again the trumpet blew, and simultaneously the gate-keepers threw[765]the stalls open. Forth from each stall, like missiles in a volley from so many great guns, rushed[766]the six contesting fours—the Corinthian’s, Messala’s, the Athenian’s, the Byzantine’s, the Sidonian’s, and Ben-Hur’s—and the vast assemblage rose[767]and, leaping upon the benches, filled[768]the circus with yells and screams.
The competitors were under view from nearly every part[769]of the circus, yet the race was not begun; they had first to make successfully the chalked line, stretched for the purpose of equalizing the start. If it were dashed upon, discomfiture of man and horses might occur; on the other hand, to approach it timidly was to incur the hazard of being thrown behind in the beginning of the race—a certain loss of the great advantage of being next the wall[770]on the inner line of the course.
Each driver looked first for the rope, then for the coveted inner line. With all six aiming at the same point[771]and speeding furiously, a collision seemed inevitable. Quick the eye, steady the hand, unerring the judgment required. The fours neared the rope together. Ben-Hur was on the extreme left[772]of the six. At Messala, who was more than an antagonist to him, he gave one searching look, and saw the soul of the man, cunning, cruel, desperate, in a tension of watchfulness and fierce resolve.
In that brief instant all his former relations with Messala came before him. First, happy childhood, when, loving and beloved, they played together. Then, manhood that brought a change in Messala, and the Roman’s inborn contempt of Jews asserted itself and broke the friendship. Then the bitter day, when, by the accidental falling of a loose tile, the Roman procurator was nearly killed, and he, Ben-Hur, was accused of willfully throwing the missile. One word from Messala would have saved the family from ruin, but the word was not spoken. Nay, more, it was Messala that urged on the Roman authorities and prevented even a fair trial of the case. It was Messala’s influence that had banished[773]him to the galleys for life, that had consigned his mother and sister to an uncertain fate, whose very uncertainty was more torture[774]than their certain death would have been. It was Messala that had stolen his property and with it had bought the silence of the authorities on the cruel deeds; and was it not money that belonged to the House of Hur that Messala was betting with in this very race? Was it human nature[775]to resist an opportunity for vengeance like this? No.[776]At whatever cost[777]he would humble his enemy.
He saw that Messala’s rush would, if there was no collision, and the rope fell, give him the wall. Therefore, he yielded it for the time. Just then the trumpeter blew a signal. The judges dropped[778]the rope. And not an instant too soon, for the hoof of one of Messala’s horses struck it as it fell. The Roman shook out[779]his long lash, loosed the reins, leaned forward, and with a triumphant shout[780]took the wall.
“Jove withus![781]Jove withus!”[781a]yelled the Roman faction, in a frenzy of delight.
“Jove with us!”[782]screamed a young nobleman.
“He wins![783]Jove with us!” answered his associates.
Messala having passed, the Corinthian was the only contestant on the Athenian’s right, and to his side he tried to turn his four; but the wheel of the Byzantine, who was next on the left, struck the tail-piece of his chariot, knocking[784]his feet from under him. There was a crash, a scream of rage and fear, and the unfortunate Athenian fell[785]under the hoofs of his own steeds. Sanballat, a friend of Ben-Hur, turned to a group of Roman noblemen.
“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!”[786]he cried.
“Taken!”[787]answered one of the group.
“Another hundred on the Jew!” shouted Sanballat. Nobody appeared to hear him. The situation below was too absorbing, and they were too busy shouting, “Messala! Messala! Jove with us!”
While the spectators were shivering at the Athenian’s mishap, and the Sidonian, Byzantine, and Corinthian were striving to avoid involvement in the ruin, Ben-Hur drew head to the right,[788]and, with all the speed of his Arabs, darted[789]across the trails of his opponents, and took the course[790]neck and neck with Messala, though on the outside. And now, racing together, side by side, a narrow interval between them, the two neared the second goal. Making the turn here was considered the most telling test of a charioteer. A hush[791]fell over the circus. Then, it would seem, Messala observed Ben-Hurand recognized him, and at once the audacity of the man flamed out.
“Down, Eros![792]up, Mars!”[793]he shouted, whirling his lash. “Down, Eros! up, Mars!” he repeated, and gave the Arab steeds of Ben-Hur a cut, the like of which they had never known.
The blow was seen in every quarter. The silence deepened and the boldest held his breath.[794]The affrighted four sprang forward[795]as with one impulse, and forward leaped[796]the car. The car trembled with a dizzy lurch, but Ben-Hur kept his place and gave the horses free rein, and called to them in a soothing voice, trying to guide them round[797]the dangerous turn, and before the fever of the people began to abate he had back the mastery. Nor that only; on approaching the first goal he was again side by side with Messala, bearing with him the sympathy and admiration of every one[798]not a Roman. Even Messala, with all his boldness, felt it unsafe to trifle further.
On[799]whirled the cars. Three rounds were concluded; still Messala held the inside position; still Ben-Hur moved with him side by side; still the other competitors followed as before. The contest began to have the appearance of a double race, Messala and Ben-Hur in the first, the Corinthian, Sidonian, and Byzantine in the second. In the fifth round the Sidonian succeeded in getting a place outside Ben-Hur, but lost it directly. The sixth round was entered upon without change of relative position. Gradually the speed had been quickened; men and beasts seemed to know alike that the final crisis was near. The interest, which from the beginninghad centred chiefly in the struggle between the Roman and the Jew, with an intense general sympathy for the latter, was fast changing to anxiety on his account. On all the benches the spectators bent forward, motionless.
“A hundred sestertii on the Jew!”[800]cried Sanballat to the Romans.
There was no reply.
“A talent, or five talents, or ten;[801]choose ye!”
“I will take thy sestertii,” answered a Roman youth.
“Do not so,” interposed a friend.
“Why?”
“Messala has reached his utmost speed. See him[802]lean over his chariot-rim, the reins loose as flying ribbons, then look at the Jew!”
“By Hercules!” replied the youth, “I see, I see! If the gods help him not, he will be run away with by the Israelite. No; not yet! Look![803]Jove with us! Jove with us!”
If it were true that Messala had gained his utmost speed, he was slowly but certainly beginning to forge ahead. His horses were running with their heads low down; from the balcony their bodies appeared actually to skim the earth; their nostrils showed blood-red in expansion; their eyes seemed straining in their sockets. The good steeds were doing their best! How long could they keep the pace? It was but the commencement of the sixth round. On they dashed! As they neared the second goal, Ben-Hur turned in behind[804]the Roman’s car. The joy of the Messala faction reached its bound. They screamed, and howled, and tossed[805]their colors, and Sanballat filled his tablets with their wagers.Ben-Hur was hardly holding a place at the tail of his enemy’s car.
Along the home-stretch—sixth round—Messala leading; next him, pressing close, Ben-Hur. Thus to the first goal, and around it, Messala, fearful of losing his place, hugged the stony wall with perilous clasp; a foot to the left[806]and he had been dashed[807]to pieces; yet when the turn was finished, no man, looking at the wheel-tracks of the two cars, could have said, “Here[808]went Messala, there[809]the Jew.” They left but one trace behind them.
And now all the people drew a long breath, for the beginning of the end was at hand. First, the Sidonian gave the scourge to his four, and they dashed[810]desperately forward, promising for an instant to go to the front. The effort ended in promise. Next, the Byzantine and the Corinthian each made the trial with like result, after which they were practically out of the race. Thereupon, all the factions except the Romans joined hope in Ben-Hur, and openly indulged their feeling.
“Ben-Hur! Ben-Hur!”[811]they shouted. “Speed thee,[812]Jew!”
“Take the wall now!”
“On![813]loose the Arabs! Give them rein and scourge!”
“Let him not have the turn on thee again. Now or never!”[814]
Either he did not hear, or could not do better, for half-way round the course and he was still following; at the second goal, even still no change.
And now, to make the turn, Messala began to draw in[815]hisleft-hand steeds. His spirit was high; the Roman genius was still present. On the pillars,[816]only six hundred feet away, were fame, fortune, promotion, and a triumph[817]ineffably sweetened by hate,[818]all in store for him! That moment Ben-Hur leaned forward over his Arabs and gave them the reins.[819]Out flew[820]the many-folded lash in his hand; over the backs of the startled steeds it writhed[821]and hissed,[822]and hissed[823]and writhed[824]again and again, and, though it fell not, there were both sting and menace in its quick report. Instantly, not one, but the four as one, answered with a leap[825]that landed them alongside the Roman’s car. Messala, on the perilous edge of the goal, heard but dared not look to see what the awakening portended. The thousands on the benches understood it all. They saw the four close outside Messala’s outer wheel, Ben-Hur’s inner wheel behind the other’s car. Then, with a cunning touch[826]of the reins, Ben-Hur caught Messala’s fragile wheel with the iron-shod point of his axle and crushed[827]it. There was a crash loud enough to send a thrill through the circus, and out over[828]the course a spray of shining white and yellow flinders flew. Down on its right side toppled the bed of the Roman’s chariot. There was a rebound, as of the axle hitting the hard earth; another and another; then the car went to pieces, and Messala, entangled in the reins, pitched forward[829]headlong, and lay still, crushed, and bleeding, and crippled for life. Above the noises of the race arose one voice, that of Ben-Hur:
[830]“On, Altair! On, Rigel! What, Antares! dost thou lingernow? Good horse-oho, Aldebaran! I hear them singing in the tents. I hear the children singing, and the women singing of the stars, of Altair, Antares, Rigel, Aldebaran, victory—and the song will never end. Well done! On, Antares! The tribe is waiting for us, and the master is waiting! ’tis done! ’tis done! Ha! ha! We have overthrown the proud! The hand that smote us is in the dust! Ours the glory! Ha! ha!—steady! The work is done—soho! Rest!”
And Ben-Hur turned the goal of victory and revenge,[831]and the race was won![832]
—Gen. Lew Wallace.
Gestures.