GENERAL LEWIS WALLACE.
AUTHOR OF “BEN HUR.”
HERE is an old adage which declares “without fame or fortune at forty, without fame or fortune always.” This, however is not invariably true. Hawthorne became famous when he wrote “Scarlet Letter” at forty-six, Sir Walter Scott produced the first Waverly Novel after he was forty; and we find another exception in the case of the soldier author who is made the subject of this sketch. Perhaps no writer of modern times has gained so wide a reputation on so few books or began his literary career so late in life as the author of “The Fair God;” “Ben Hur” and “The Prince of India.” It was not until the year 1873 that General Lewis Wallace at the age of forty-six became known to literature. Prior to this he had filled the double position of lawyer and soldier, and it was his observations and experiences in the Mexican War, no doubt, which inspired him to write “The Fair God,” his first book, which was a story of the conquest of that country.
Lew. Wallace was horn at Brookville, Indiana, in 1827. After receiving a common school education, he began the study of law; but on the breaking out of the Mexican War, he volunteered in the army as a lieutenant in an Indiana company. On his return from the war, in 1848, he took up the practice of his profession in his native state and also served in the legislature. Near the beginning of the Civil War he became colonel of a volunteer regiment. His military service was of such a character that he received special mention from General Grant for meritorious conduct and was made major-general in March, 1862. He was mustered out of service when the war closed in 1865 and resumed his practice of law at his old home in Crawfordsville. In 1873, as stated above, his first book, “The Fair God,” was published; but it met with only moderate success. In 1878, General Wallace was made Territorial Governor of Utah and in 1880, “Ben Hur; a Tale of The Christ” appeared. The scene was laid in the East and displayed such a knowledge of the manners and customs of that country and people that General Garfield—that year elected President—considered its author a fitting person for the Turkish Ministry, and accordingly, in 1881, he was appointed to that position. It is said that when President Garfield gave General Wallace his appointment, he wrote the words “Ben Hur” across the corner of the document, and, as Wallace was coming away from his visit of acknowledgement at the White House, the President put his arm over his friend’s shoulder and said, “I expect another book out of you. Your duties will not be too onerous to allow you to write it. Locate the scene in Constantinople.” This suggestion was, no doubt, General Wallace’s reason for writing “The Prince of India,” which was published in 1890 and is the last book issued by its author. He had in the mean time, however, published “The Boyhood of Christ” (1888).
None of the other books of the author have been so popular or reached the great success attained by “Ben Hur,” which has had the enormous sale of nearly one-half million copies without at any time being forced upon the market in the form of a cheap edition. It is remarkable also to state that the early circulation of “Ben Hur,” while it was appreciated by a certain class, was too small to warrant the author in anticipating the fortune which he afterwards harvested from this book. Before General Wallace was made Minister to Turkey, the book-sellers bought it in quantities of two, three or a dozen at a time, and it was not until President Garfield had honored the author with this [♦]significant portfolio that the trade commenced to call for it in thousand lots.
[♦] ‘significent’ replaced with ‘significant’
DESCRIPTION OF CHRIST.[¹]
(FROM “BEN HUR.” 1880.)
[¹] Selections printed here are by special permission of the author. Harper Brothers, Publishers.
HE head was open to the cloudless light, except as it was draped with long hair and slightly waved, and parted in the middle, and auburn in tint, with a tendency to reddish golden where most strongly touched by the sun. Under a broad, low forehead, under black well-arched brows, beamed eyes dark blue and large, and softened to exceeding tenderness by lashes of great length sometimes seen on children, but seldom, if ever, on men. As to the other features, it would have been difficult to decide whether they were Greek or Jewish. The delicacy of the nostrils and mouth was unusually to the latter type, and when it was taken into account with the gentleness of the eyes, the pallor of the complexion, the fine texture of the hair and the softness of the beard, which fell in waves over His throat to His breast, never a soldier but would have laughed at Him in encounter, never a woman who would not have confided in Him at sight, never a child that would not, with quick instinct, have given Him its hand and whole artless trust, nor might any one have said He was not beautiful.
The features, it should be further said, were ruled by a certain expression which, as the viewer chose, might with equal correctness have been called the effect of intelligence, love, pity or sorrow, though, in better speech, it was a blending of them all—a look easy to fancy as a mark of a sinless soul doomed to the sight and understanding of the utter sinfulness of those among whom it was passing; yet withal no one could have observed the face with a thought of weakness in the man; so, at least, would not they who know that the qualities mentioned—love, sorrow, pity—are the results of a consciousness of strength to bear suffering oftener than strength to do; such has been the might of martyrs and devotees and the myriads written down in saintly calendars; and such, indeed, was the air of this one.
THE PRINCE OF INDIA TEACHES REINCARNATION.[¹]
(FROM THE “PRINCE OF INDIA.” 1890.)
[¹] Selections printed here are by special permission of the author. Harper Brothers, Publishers.
HE Holy Father of Light and Life,” the speaker went on, after a pause referable to his consummate knowledge of men, “has sent His Spirit down to the world, not once, merely, or unto one people, but repeatedly, in ages sometimes near together, sometimes wide apart, and to races diverse, yet in every instance remarkable for genius.”
There was a murmur at this, but he gave it no time.
“Ask you now how I could identify the [♦]Spirit so as to be able to declare to you solemnly, as I do in fear of God, that in several repeated appearances of which I speak it was the very same Spirit? How do you know the man you met at set of sun yesterday was the man you saluted and had salute from this morning? Well, I tell you the Father has given the Spirit features by which it may be known—features distinct as those of the neighbors nearest you there at your right and left hands. Wherever in my reading Holy Books, like these, I hear of a man, himself a shining example of righteousness, teaching God and the way to God; by those signs I say to my soul: ‘Oh, the Spirit, the Spirit! Blessed [♠]is the man appointed to carry it about!’”
[♦] ‘Spiritt’ replaced with ‘Spirit’
[♠] ‘in’ replaced with ‘is’
Again the murmur, but again he passed on.
“The Spirit dwelt in the Holy of Holies set apart for it in the Tabernacle; yet no man ever saw it here, a thing of sight. The soul is not to be seen; still less is the Spirit of the Most High; or if one did see it, its brightness would kill him. In great mercy, therefore, it has come and done its good works in the world veiled; now in one form, now in another; at one time, a voice in the air; at another, a vision in sleep; at another, a burning bush; at another, an angel; at another, a descending dove”—
“Bethabara!” shouted a cowled brother, tossing both hands up.
“Be quiet!” the Patriarch ordered.
“Thus always when its errand was of quick despatch,” the Prince continued. “But if its coming were for residence on earth, then its habit has been to adopt a man for its outward form, and enter into him, and speak by him; such was Moses, such Elijah, such were all the Prophets, and such”—he paused, then exclaimed shrilly—“such was Jesus Christ!”
THE PRAYER OF THE WANDERING JEW.[¹]
(FROM THE “PRINCE OF INDIA.”)
[¹] Copyright, Harper & Bros.
OD of Israel—my God!” he said, in a tone hardly more than speaking to himself. “These about me, my fellow-creatures, pray thee in the hope of life, I pray thee in the hope of death. I have come up from the sea, and the end was not there; now I will go into the Desert in search of it. Or if I must live, Lord, give me the happiness there is in serving thee.
“Thou hast need of instruments of good: let me henceforth be one of them, that by working for thy honor, I may at last enjoy the peace of the blessed—Amen.”
DEATH OF MONTEZUMA.[¹]
(FROM “THE FAIR GOD.”)
[¹] Copyright, Harper & Bros.
HE king turned his pale face and fixed his gazing eyes upon the conqueror; and such power was there in the look that the latter added, with softening manner, “What I can do for thee I will do. I have always been thy true friend.”
“O Malinche, I hear you, and your words make dying easy,” answered Montezuma, smiling faintly.
With an effort he sought Cortes’ hand, and looking at Acatlan and Tecalco, continued:
“Let me intrust these women and their children to you and your lord. Of all that which was mine but now is yours—lands, people, empire,—enough to save them from want and shame were small indeed. Promise me; in the hearing of all these, promise, Malinche.”
Taint of anger was there no longer on the soul of the great Spaniard.
“Rest thee, good king!” he said, with feeling. “Thy queens and their children shall be my wards. In the hearing of all these, I so swear.”
The listener smiled again; his eyes closed, his hand fell down; and so still was he that they began to think him dead. Suddenly he stirred, and said faintly, but distinctly,—
“Nearer, uncles, nearer.” The old men bent over him, listening.
“A message to Guatamozin,—to whom I give my last thought, as king. Say to him, that this lingering in death is no fault of his; the aim was true, but the arrow splintered upon leaving the bow. And lest the world hold him to account for my blood, hear me say, all of you, that I bade him do what he did.
“And in sign that I love him, take my sceptre, and give it to him—”
His voice fell away, yet the lips moved; lower the accents stooped,—
“Tula and the empire go with the sceptre,” he murmured, and they were his last words,—his will. A wail from the women pronounced him dead.
DESCRIPTION OF VIRGIN MARY.[¹]
(FROM “BEN HUR.”)
[¹] Copyright, Harper & Bros.
HE was not more than fifteen. Her form, voice and manner belonged to the period of transition from girlhood. Her face was perfectly oval, her complexion more pale than fair. The nose was faultless; the lips, slightly parted, were full and ripe, giving to the lines of the mouth warmth, tenderness and trust; the eyes were blue and large, and shaded by drooping lids and long lashes, and, in harmony with all, a flood of golden hair, in the style permitted to Jewish brides, fell unconfined down her back to the pillion on which she sat. The throat and neck had the downy softness sometimes seen which leaves the artist in doubt whether it is an effect of contour or color. To these charms of feature and person were added others more indefinable—an air of purity which only the soul can impart, and of abstraction natural to such as think much of things impalpable. Often, with trembling lips, she raised her eyes to heaven, itself not more deeply blue; often she crossed her hands upon her breast, as in adoration and prayer; often she raised her head like one listening eagerly for a calling voice. Now and then, midst his slow utterances, Joseph turned to look at her, and, catching the expression kindling her face as with light, forgot his theme, and with bowed head, wondering, plodded on.
