Part 17

‘Nearly two thousand years,’ replied Flaxius in a strangely solemn voice, _wie Glocketon und Orgelklang_. ‘Yes, quite two thousand, though learned critics of the _Kethubim_ differ as to the date, and Jochanan and Ben Hillel think--but never mind! ’Tis so.’

‘And who was I then?’ inquired Miss Rockhard, entering, as she thought, into the spirit of one of Flaxius’s strange jests.

‘Truly a _femme incomprise_, and one who died, in fact, misunderstood, just as you might have done had you made your exit some two years ago, since at that time you did not really understand yourself.’

‘I think,’ replied the dear young lady, ‘that is strictly true of the whole silly sisterhood.’ She said it with a deep blush, though not a blusher in a general way, for she recalled the last interview, much in sorrow, not at all in wrath. ‘But who was I, two millennia gone by?’

‘The wife of King Ahab of the Jews, the very much distinguished Jezebel.’

Truly this was a shake for Miss Rockhard, and the blush came up as a flush somewhat heightened; yet she said with a smile:

‘I regret that you only remember me as the greatest iniquity of the Old Testament. I am curious to know if you admired me very much in that character?’

‘Not in that character, but in your true one, which, I declare sincerely and without paradox, has been most cruelly misrepresented.’

‘As it is a personal matter,’ rejoined Miss Rockhard, ‘I need not say that I am all expectancy and attention.’

‘Very well. Who is it that describes Jezebel for us? A personal enemy of extreme bitterness, and one of a race approving death and murder in any form, when any one of the _Goyim_, or Gentiles, is concerned.’

‘I never thought of that,’ said Jesabelle reflectively. ‘And religious antipathy must have been stronger among the Hebrews than in any other race, for they were strong-minded.’

‘Yes,’ replied Flaxius, ‘it is too generally lost sight of in Church histories that those who make the best martyrs are also best martyring others. But to return to Jezebel. The first and chief crime with which she is charged is remaining steadfast to that polytheistic Syrian religion in which she was brought up, and to which she was in duty bound to be attached, since her father was King of Zidon, and in a sense its head. The King of the Jews married her, and was fascinated by the charms of that splendid and sensual system which seemed so attractive, compared to the grim, Hebrew, ascetic monotheism, which gave no joyousness to this life, neither did it promise a future as did the Syrian, so that it came to pass that the greatest and wisest men among the Hebrews often adopted it, and it more than once happened that nearly all Israel went over to it.

‘Now bear in mind, my friend,’ said Flaxius with a smile, ‘that in reading the Book of Kings we generally go as in a torrent of headlong agreement with the writer, who assumes, as a matter of course, that everybody who is not a Hebrew monotheist, and an implicit believer in all that the prophets are _said to have said_, and all that is told about them, is utterly wicked beyond all sinners, and deserving death.’

‘That is true,’ assented Miss Rockhard.

‘The prophet whom Jezebel threatened in a rage because he had put to death the priests of her own religion, who were probably her intimate friends and relations, is Elijah--Elia--who with the masculine termination appears in Greek as Helios, the sun, who, like the latter, goes up to, or over, the heaven in a chariot of fire, after performing the preliminary Moses-miracle of dividing the water of a stream. I think that we may set aside Jezebel’s sins as regarded this very mythical character as dubiously inconsiderable. And when we reflect that the Hebrews slew one hundred thousand Syrians in one day, as we read in the twenty-ninth verse of the twentieth chapter of Kings, simply for differences of religious opinion, the whole war being stimulated by prophets and priests, the slaughter of a few prophets ascribed to Jezebel may well pass as an incident of war. These great bands of one hundred and fifty prophets seem to have been identical with the roaming _Darweesh_ of the Arabs, whose business it is to stir up war. We are accustomed to feel awe at the prophets, because they usually appear singly in their majesty, like God, but these bands of one hundred and fifty, all prophesying _en masse_, rather detract from the dignity of the profession.

‘Now, as regards Naboth’s vineyard, it was unquestionably a wicked deed. Ahab had offered Naboth, the Jezreelite, a _better_ vineyard for his own, or its worth in money, and Ahab was the king. The refusal was a bitter blow before all the world; so bitter that the king became ill, and seemed to be dying, because he had been, as he conceived, insulted.

‘Now there is no proof that Jezebel cared two-pence for the vineyard, but she was passionately fond of her family and husband. She had been born and brought up to familiarity with excess of bloodshed for trifles; she had seen all the priests whom she revered, and _one hundred thousand_ of her own people killed for adhering to their own religion, and as she preferred the life of Ahab to that of Naboth, and being an unquestionably clever and vigorous woman, she easily contrived to have the latter put out of the way. One _evil deed_ does not excuse another, but it is worth observing that pious King David was guilty of a very similar, but far viler and more nefarious transaction, as regarded Uriah’s wife, for which _he_ was indeed only vicariously punished, while Jezebel was made to suffer not only by loss of husband and son, but most cruelly _in person_.

‘Now we come to the end of the tragedy. Jehu, after having murdered Jehoram in a cowardly and treacherous manner, returned to Jerusalem. And here the narrator by a most ingenious little touch of art has contrived to say something of Jezebel which has done more to make her appear infamous by her biographer than every thing else accusative--if indeed he meant it--which may be doubtful. It is the simple statement that, “When Jehu was come to Jezreel, Jezebel heard of it, and she _painted her face_ and tired her head, and looked out at a window.” From which has come the popular saying of “painted Jezebels,” suggesting vile women covered with rouge.’

‘And even rouge is not quite a sin; if it be, God help Belgravia!’ remarked Miss Rockhard.

‘And yet she was not even rouged,’ added Flaxius, for the Hebrew original says, “put her eyes in painting,” which means that she drew lines with _Kohl_ or antimony powder under her eyelashes, as was the usual custom with _all_ women, good or bad, all over the East, where it is common to this day. It amounted to no more than putting on a bonnet or drawing on a pair of gloves. As for “tiring her head,”’ added Flaxius solemnly, and almost sadly, ‘when I think how Isaiah and Jeremiah must have tired the heads and hearts of all Israel with their lamentations, I can pass over Jezebel’s work. It was her own business.

‘And when the brutal and cowardly assassin Jehu entered, she addressed him as only an injured wife and mother and a woman of marvellous wit and deep feeling could have done, with the cleverest, keenest, and most succinct sarcasm or reproach ever uttered. It was simply, “Had Zimri peace who slew his master?” Few at the present day realise how stinging this question was. To an extremely superstitious and brutal man like Jehu, fearful of omens, and uneasy as to the crimes of regicide, it was maddening. But the woman never existed who wouldn’t have said it, if she could have thought of it.’

‘I am sure that _I_ should, under the circumstances,’ replied the young lady, ‘though I knew that all the vengeance in the hand of man was to follow.’

‘So she was thrown out of the window, and Jehu killed her, stamping the bruised woman under his own feet in his frenzied rage, so that, as it is written, “some of her blood was sprinkled on the wall and on the horses,” showing how high it must have jetted up, and how savagely she was trampled on by the infuriated Jew.

‘Even the eating of Jezebel by dogs is told in such a manner as to convey an impression of infamy and guilt on her part. But if Jehu, or any other Jew or Gentile, or anything eatable, were thrown to the dogs in Jerusalem to-day, they would soon finish it. When the soul is gone, it matters little how the poor shell of humanity is treated. But I find something very degrading and disgraceful in the manner in which the writer dwells upon and exults in the fact that the ‘carcase’ of Jezebel was insulted, and that dogs ate her flesh. It would have been more creditable to Elijah, and to all concerned, if they had given her burial as became a king’s daughter. For she was queenly, and showed no fear in her last moment, and when she knew that death was at hand, she calmly made her toilet, as a lady would, to appear well, like Queen Catherine, to the last, and greeted her foe with a richly deserved reproof, and not with prayers for mercy. Yes, she died like one of royal race.’

‘Mr. Flaxius,’ said Miss Jesabelle, ‘do you know that if I should ever come into court, as defendant, in anything from pitch and toss up to murder, anarchy, or high treason, I should like to have you for my counsel. I believe that you would make me out an angel, even to my own conviction.’

‘The usual formula of polite society would be,’ replied Flaxius, ‘to say that I have always been convinced myself of the fact. But as I have not, and would be very much puzzled to know how to dispose of any such feathered anomaly, all I can say is that if you were no more guilty than I believe Jezebel to have been, I would accept the case with alacrity, and clear you, if there be such a thing as justice in the land.’

‘Since you have defended Jezebel so well,’ replied the lady, ‘perhaps you could say a word for Herodias. I always understood that the _Advocatus diaboli_ was the prosecuting attorney, but in this case he appears for the defence.’

‘Herodias,’ said the sage, ‘was a bird of a very different colour, but, like all the rest, she was a _femme incomprise_. And to begin with, the original of the name, who is to this very day recognised among the older witches in Italy as their queen, jointly with Diana, was of remote Oriental origin, or the same as Lilith of the Jews. She was eminently the fair demon of fascination who was “simply killing,” and you must bear it in mind that something of all this devilry was in the mind of the good Christians who wrote about the lady of the New Testament who danced Herod off his head and the head off Saint John. And the original Herodias was as certainly the goddess of dancing, which was a serious and terrible means of bewitchment in the olden time.[11]

‘In regard to the transaction described in the later Scripture, it is marvellous that no writer has ever treated it from a modern-society, Christian, five-o’clock-tea, practical point of view. Suppose a lady--an intelligent, accomplished widow who has had a pleasant life as wife of the governor of Paryobberee, or Cathay. The governor dies, his brother succeeds to the appointment, and marries the widow, as was strictly commanded in the Old Testament; from which book sundry moderns derive the command that a man is not to marry his wife’s sister.’

‘Consistency, thou art a jewel!’ interpolated Miss Rockhard.

‘Well he marries the widow, or, it may be, the fraternal divorced wife. Then uprises a clergyman of a new sect, with what were considered eccentric new views, who has tremendous influence among the people, and informs the governor that his marriage is illegal. And _then_, fancy the feelings of Herodias! On one hand divorce and perhaps death or poverty, with a charming daughter just coming out; on the other a prophet of the wildest description. And it was considered to be such a remarkably natural, trifling, and commonplace thing in those days to put anybody to death who was in your way, if you had the power to do it; just as good John Calvin did with Servetus when the latter got in _his_ way, or as some millions of heretics were disposed of, mostly with antecedent torture, by “meek, merciful, all-Christlike Mother Church.” And so Herodias did what the grand majority of worldly-minded, High or Low Church, Christian matrons and mammas would do to-day, under the same circumstances--if they could--and put Saint John out of the way.

‘This is the legend of Herodias.’

* * * * *

There was a long silence, when Flaxius said:

‘Now tell me, if under the same conditions of secrecy as before, and with all your recent experience and newly acquired wisdom, would you accept the marvellous wardrobe of the fairy Alban once more, for if you will take it you shall have it, forthwith?’

Miss Rockhard had for months reflected on and studied this very question to its very lees. But she took a minute--two minutes--to her reply, and when she spoke it was with emotion close to tears, but with firm voice:

‘Oh, I thank you from my very heart, for I feel deeply that this offer _now_ is a thousand times kinder than was the first. But I have had my lesson, and I hope I do not need another--when I _do_, you will, I hope,’--here she looked up with a sad, sweet smile.

(‘She is immensely prettier than she used to be,’ thought Flaxius.)

‘You will I hope not spare me. But as for the wardrobe, it is best where it is--in fairy hands. Nor would I know anything more of magic or _occulta_ or mysteries, for I have learned what few know, that no human nature, unless perhaps it be gifted as few are, and has had years of training, can keep, or is fit to know, such secrets. It will be time to attend to them when we shall have exhausted science.’

‘Yes,’ replied Flaxius, ‘when you exhaust science a little more, you will indeed find that magic is beginning in earnest.’

‘And so,’ added Jesabelle with a smile, as they rose to depart--I dare say it was in the direction of Mutton’s, to lunch--‘we learn from past trials and bitter storms how in future to keep under shelter, and seek only the sunny way.

‘“For all experience is an arch where through Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever as we roam.”’

* * * * *

_Haec fabula docet,_ ‘ye morale of whych lytil historie,’ pens Flaxius as usual on the galley, ‘is that we should, firstly, not believe the worst of anybody, be it derived from their own manner, and demeanour, or from oral or written report, and above all have patience with them, and try to help them to a better state. For, verily, this Miss Rockhard was a hard nut to crack, and enough to daunt the devil, or any decent man as I first met her, and a hard time I had with her, yet did she come out ‘all right as a trivet,’ a _trivet_ being, as ye know, dearly beloved, a _tripod_, and the reference ‘all right’ to the infallible accuracy of the Delphic oracle, which is, however, a fact not generally known. For of all things a three-legged stool stands most securely.

As for the manner in which any evil report may be cruelly and undeservedly attached to a name, there is still a word to be said for belle Jezebel of Hebrew history. When I of late defended her character, I was rebuffed with the remark that there was in the Book of Kings a distinct assertion that she was a--ahem!--social evil--and a witch: this being the speech of Jehu, Kings II. 9, v. 22.

Now be it observed that the expression here employed is to be found over and over again in the Old Testament, and in almost every instance is used not to signify any adultery or individual immorality, but to discredit the Syrian religion. It was a very nasty and unmanly form of abuse which the Hebrew prophets, and Saint John, used far too freely, on _all_ occasions, to characterise everything theological which displeased them; just as sailors and the like use ‘bloody,’ _et cetera_, very often with no meaning whatever, or as the gentlemen and ladies of Houndsditch cry out _noffgur_ and _ben-noffgur_, and so forth, far too freely to all offenders. This speech of Jehu’s was, it is true, used not in the Pickwickian sense, but most certainly in the theological, which is the next thing to it. For the first impulse of the _odium theologicum_ is, to be ‘nasty.’

Now a good tough nature like Jesabelle’s, when really honest, is all the better and cleaner for a good mangling. As was beautifully expressed by the ancients as follows--

[Illustration]

that is, three V’s, meaning _Virtus virtute virescit_, Virtue flourishes by virtue, signifying that like the chamomile it grows the more for being trampled on. To the present day this sign is often to be seen on the walls of Florence, scratched in chalk or charcoal, and prefixed to the names of popular favourites. It is generally believed to be a monogram of _Evviva_!

[10] Vide _Etruscan-Roman Remains_, by Charles Godfrey Leland: London, Fisher Unwin.

[11] Here the chronicler of Flaxius would fain get in a little _réclame_, by mentioning that Herodias and Diana have a small book to themselves in _Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches_, by Charles Godfrey Leland. London: D. Nutt.

HOW FLAXIUS SAT AS JUDGE WITH A JURY OF TWELVE DEVILS

‘Sono demoni chi rappresentano il popolaccio del inferno, mentre che i diavoli ne sono i principi e i gran signori.’

‘There are demons who represent the populace of hell, while the devils are its nobility and great gentlemen; and some of these have left a name, such as it is, in books on strange subjects.--_Del Diavolo, a Treatise_, 1870.

THE Sun had drowned himself in the sea, and his widow, the Sky, after dissipating the evening gold which he had left, was contracting a second marriage with Night, who brought her as settlement the silver moon and the whole heavenly sack of stars, when Flaxius wandered along alone by the wild, wailing waves, seeing, smelling, tasting, feeling, and hearing the sweet-salt, vapoury ocean breeze. So he went on--it was a lonely coast--till he encountered a shepherd established in a hut of stones and turf; a tenement so small as to bear to its inhabitant the relation a shell bears to a tortoise.

‘Is there any place hereabout,’ asked Flaxius, ‘where I could lodge for the night?’

‘None for near a five mile,’ answered the herd, removing the slender pipe of clay from his lips; ‘leastwise none where yer could get _hin_. That is, ’cept the Devil’s Den, a hold ouse, furder on, and _there_,’ he added emphatically, ‘I reckon yer’d only be too glad to get _hout_.’

‘Why?’ inquired Flaxius.

‘’Cos it’s ruined--wuss than Jane Shoree hever wus by the royal _rep-ro-bate_,’ replied the herd, who appeared to have some tincture of letters.

‘Is it roofed?’

‘Roofed and water-proofed,’ was the reply. ‘’Taint _there_ that the affliction commences. I mean ruined in reppertation and char-ac-ter. It’s mellincolly and hin bad sperits--leastways bad sperits is in hit--an’ always were--since the smugglers left hoff usin’ hof hit. Hits ‘osts his ghosts.’

Flaxius gave the man a deeply pensive look, and a small silver coin. The herd replied with a six-pence-ive smile of gratitude. ‘Sir,’ he exclaimed, ‘“you are a good Lot,” as the lady said to her ’usband before she turned to a piller hof salt.’

‘How can I be a lot, being but one?’ inquired Flaxius.

‘Hi call a cove good com-peny when a penny come to me from ’im,’ replied the shepherd. ‘You stand six hof ’em. You’re more’n a cove, you’re a whole covey hof birds, a multitood o’ virtues, a ‘arf dozener.’

The sage went on from pile to pile of pebbles, or earth, marked with whitewash to serve the coast-guards as guides in darkness, till he beheld before him the shelter which he sought. It was a dilapidated stone house of the Jacobean time and style; not unpicturesque, gracefully draped with ivy, and as it stood in the light of a full moon on a rising rocky platform, with a sea-view circling round, there was in it something which irresistibly recalled scenes in theatres and novels, smugglers, witches, Guy Mannering, and Anne the uncanny of Geierstein.

But what gave it specially this appearance to Flaxius was the gleam from within of a light, which he knew at once was lit by no mortal match and fed by no earthly oil or fuel. It rose and fell, quivering and thrilling like a Northern light, sometimes causing the building to appear as if in flame, and then shrinking to an arrowy ray, or a mere needle, changing to many hues in which, however, a sulphur blue ever predominated. And with its changes there rang in time and measure, high or low, unearthly laughter, strange shouts or ululations, sinking to stranger humming or buzzing, and passing to a dreamy melody in softened shade, all at once broken up by a startling blare and flare and wild vociferation in strange tongues.

It required little reflection for the Magian to conjecture the nature of the company from whom such sounds proceeded, nor was he astonished, after opening the door, entering the hall, and uttering the wizard greeting, which proclaimed his nature, to see the sight which met his eyes.

Round about a great block of sandstone, which served for a table, and on which stood two open cases of gin, several loose bottles, a ten-gallon demijohn of whisky, a raisin box full of Perique, or _favori du diable_ tobacco, and an ancient, much-thumbed manuscript bound in sheet-iron, sat lolling and sprawling in all the extravagance of unconventional ease, on divans or seats, also of stone, twelve demons, or spirits of that kind whose mission it is in life to busy themselves especially with all that is mischievous, reckless, stirring, wild, eccentric, or subversive. That is to say, they are always occupied with what they call ‘whooping it up’; aiding and encouraging youth to paint towns red, inspiring Celtic politics, whether French or Irish, organising riots, editing society newspapers, evoking up divorces, anarchising, and filling police courts with cases. They were all smoking and drinking, and seemed to be earnestly occupied with some extremely interesting subject of debate; the intensity or moderation of which was manifested in the _crescendo_, or _diminuendo_, of a flame rising from a great terra-cotta vase, and by the tones of their voices.