The Wandering Jew
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Title: The Wandering Jew, Complete
Author: Eugene Sue
Release Date: September 2, 2006 [EBook #3350]
Last Updated: November 1, 2012
Language: English
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Produced by David Widger
THE WANDERING JEW
By Eugene Sue
A NOTE ON THE AUTHOR OF THE WANDERING JEW: EUGENE SUE
(1804-1857)
Time and again physicians and seamen have made noteworthy reputations as novelists. But it is rare in the annals of literature that a man trained in both professions should have gained his greatest fame as a writer of novels. Eugene Sue began his career as a physician and surgeon, and then spent six years in the French Navy. In 1830, when he returned to France, he inherited his father's rich estate and was free to follow his inclination to write. His first novel, "Plick et Plock", met with an unexpected success, and he at once foreswore the arts of healing and navigation for the precarious life of a man of letters. With varying success he produced books from his inexhaustible store of personal experiences as a doctor and sailor. In 1837, he wrote an authoritative work on the French Navy, "Histoire de la marine Francaise".
More and more the novel appealed to his imagination and suited his gifts. His themes ranged from the fabulous to the strictly historical, and he became popular as a writer of romance and fictionized fact. His plays, however, were persistent failures. When he published "The Mysteries of Paris", his national fame was assured, and with the writing of "The Wandering Jew" he achieved world-wide renown. Then, at the height of his literary career, Eugene Sue was driven into exile after Louis Napoleon overthrew the Constitutional Government in a coup d'etat and had himself officially proclaimed Emperor Napoleon III. The author of "The Wandering Jew" died in banishment five years later.
CONTENTS
THE WANDERING JEW.
BOOK I. THE TRANSGRESSION.
PROLOGUE.
THE LAND'S END OF TWO WORLDS.
CHAPTER I. MOROK.
CHAPTER II. THE TRAVELLERS.
CHAPTER III. THE ARRIVAL.
CHAPTER IV. MOROK and DAGOBERT
CHAPTER V. ROSE AND BLANCHE.
CHAPTER VI. THE SECRET.
CHAPTER VII. THE TRAVELER.
CHAPTER VIII. EXTRACTS FROM GENERAL SIMON'S DIARY.
CHAPTER IX. THE CAGES.
CHAPTER X. THE SURPRISE.
CHAPTER XI. JOVIAL and DEATH.
CHAPTER XII. THE BURGOMASTER.
CHAPTER XIII. THE JUDGEMENT.
CHAPTER XIV. THE DECISION.
CHAPTER XV. THE DESPATCHES.
CHAPTER XVI. THE ORDERS.
BOOK II. INTERVAL—THE WANDERING JEW'S SENTENCE.
INTERVAL.
CHAPTER XVII. THE AJOUPA.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE TATTOOING
CHAPTER XIX. THE SMUGGLER
CHAPTER XX. M. JOSHUA VAN DAEL.
CHAPTER XXI. THE RUINS OF TCHANDI.
CHAPTER XXII. THE AMBUSCADE
CHAPTER XXIII. M. RODIN.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE TEMPEST
CHAPTER XXV. THE SHIPWRECK.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE DEPARTURE FOR PARIS.
CHAPTER XXVII. DAGOBERT'S WIFE.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SISTER OF THE BACCHANAL QUEEN.
CHAPTER XXIX. AGRICOLA BAUDOIN.
CHAPTER XXX. THE RETURN.
CHAPTER XXXI. AGRICOLA AND MOTHER BUNCH.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE AWAKENING.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE PAVILION.
CHAPTER XXXIV. ADRIENNE AT HER TOILET.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE INTERVIEW.
BOOK III.
CHAPTER XXXVI. A FEMALE JESUIT.
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE PLOT.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. ADRIENNE'S ENEMIES.
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE SKIRMISH.
CHAPTER XL. THE REVOLT
CHAPTER XLI. TREACHERY.
CHAPTER XLII. THE SNARE.
CHAPTER XLIII. A FALSE FRIEND.
CHAPTER XLIV. THE MINISTER'S CABINET.
CHAPTER XLV. THE VISIT.
CHAPTER XLVI. PRESENTIMENTS.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE LETTER.
CHAPTER XLVIII. THE CONFESSIONAL
CHAPTER XLIX. MY LORD AND SPOIL-SPORT.
CHAPTER L. APPEARANCES.
CHAPTER LI. THE CONVENT.
CHAPTER LII. THE INFLUENCE OF A CONFESSOR.
CHAPTER LIII. THE EXAMINATION.
BOOK IV.
PART SECOND. THE CHASTISEMENT.
PROLOGUE. THE BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF TWO WORLDS.
CHAPTER I. THE MASQUERADE.
CHAPTER II. THE CONTRAST.
CHAPTER III. THE CAROUSE.
CHAPTER IV. THE FAREWELL
CHAPTER V. FLORINE.
CHAPTER VI. MOTHER SAINTE-PERPETUE.
CHAPTER VII. THE TEMPTATION.
CHAPTER VIII. MOTHER BUNCH AND MDLLE DE CARDOVILLE.
CHAPTER IX. THE ENCOUNTERS.
CHAPTER X. THE MEETING.
CHAPTER XI. DISCOVERIES.
CHAPTER XII. THE PENAL CODE.
CHAPTER XIII. BURGLARY.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER XIV. THE EVE OF A GREAT DAY.
CHAPTER XV. THE THUG.
CHAPTER XVI. THE TWO BROTHERS OF THE GOOD WORK.
CHAPTER XVII. THE HOUSE IN THE RUE SAINT-FRANCOIS.
CHAPTER XVIII. DEBIT AND CREDIT.
CHAPTER XIX. THE HEIR
CHAPTER XX. THE RUPTURE.
CHAPTER XXI. THE CHANGE.
CHAPTER XXII. THE RED ROOM.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE TESTAMENT.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAST STROKE OF NOON.
CHAPTER XXV. THE DEED OF GIFT.
BOOK VI.
PART SECOND. THE CHASTISEMENT. (Concluded.)
CHAPTER XXVI. A GOOD GENIUS.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE FIRST LAST, AND THE LAST FIRST.
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE STRANGER.
CHAPTER XXIX. THE DEN.
CHAPTER XXX. AN UNEXPECTED VISIT.
CHAPTER XXXI. FRIENDLY SERVICES.
CHAPTER XXXII. THE ADVICE.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ACCUSER.
CHAPTER XXXIV. FATHER D'AIGRIGNY'S SECRETARY.
CHAPTER XXXV. SYMPATHY.
CHAPTER XXXVI. SUSPICIONS.
CHAPTER XXXVII. EXCUSES.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. REVELATIONS.
CHAPTER XXXIX. PIERRE SIMON.
BOOK VII.
CHAPTER XL. THE EAST INDIAN IN PARIS.
CHAPTER XLI. RISING.
CHAPTER XLII. DOUBTS.
CHAPTER XLIII. THE LETTER.
CHAPTER XLIV. ADRIENNE AND DJALMA.
CHAPTER XLV. THE CONSULTATION.
CHAPTER XLVI. MOTHER BUNCH'S DIARY.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE DIARY CONTINUED.
CHAPTER XLVIII. THE DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XLIX. THE TRYSTING-PLACE OF THE WOLVES.
CHAPTER L. THE COMMON DWELLING-HOUSE
CHAPTER LI. THE SECRET.
CHAPTER LII. REVELATIONS.
BOOK VIII.
PART THIRD.THE REDEMPTION.
CHAPTER I. THE WANDERING JEW'S CHASTISEMENT.
CHAPTER II. THE DESCENDANTS OF THE WANDERING JEW.
CHAPTER III. THE ATTACK.
CHAPTER IV. THE WOLVES AND THE DEVOURERS.
CHAPTER V. THE RETURN.
CHAPTER VI. THE GO-BETWEEN.
CHAPTER VII. ANOTHER SECRET.
CHAPTER VIII. THE CONFESSION.
CHAPTER IX. LOVE.
CHAPTER X. THE EXECUTION.
CHAPTER XI. THE CHAMPS-ELYSEES
CHAPTER XII. BEHIND THE SCENES.
CHAPTER XIII. UP WITH THE CURTAIN.
CHAPTER XIV. DEATH.
BOOK IX.
CHAPTER XV. THE CONSTANT WANDERER.
CHAPTER XVI. THE LUNCHEON.
CHAPTER XVII. RENDERING THE ACCOUNT.
CHAPTER XVIII. THE SQUARE OF NOTRE DAME.
CHAPTER XIX. THE CHOLERA MASQUERADE.(39)
CHAPTER XX. THE DEFIANCE.
CHAPTER XXI. BRANDY TO THE RESCUE.
CHAPTER XXII. MEMORIES.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE POISONER.
CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE CATHEDRAL.
CHAPTER XXV. THE MURDERERS.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE PATIENT.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE LURE.
CHAPTER XXVIII. GOOD NEWS.
CHAPTER XXIX. THE OPERATION.
CHAPTER XXX. THE TORTURE.
CHAPTER XXXI. VICE AND VIRTUE.
CHAPTER XXXII. SUICIDE.
BOOK X.
CHAPTER XXXIII. CONFESSIONS.
CHAPTER XXXIV. MORE CONFESSIONS.
CHAPTER XXXV. THE RIVALS.
CHAPTER XXXVI. THE INTERVIEW.
CHAPTER XXXVII. SOOTHING WORDS.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE TWO CARRIAGES.
CHAPTER XXXIX. THE APPOINTMENT.
CHAPTER XL. ANXIETY.
CHAPTER XLI. ADRIENNE AND DJALMA.
CHAPTER XLII. "THE IMITATION."
CHAPTER XLIII. PRAYER.
CHAPTER XLIV. REMEMBRANCES.
CHAPTER XLV. THE BLOCKHEAD
CHAPTER XLVI. THE ANONYMOUS LETTERS.
CHAPTER XLVII. THE GOLDEN CITY.
CHAPTER XLVIII. THE STUNG LION.
CHAPTER XLIX. THE TEST.
BOOK XI.
EPILOGUE.
CHAPTER L. THE RUINS OF THE ABBEY OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.
CHAPTER LI. THE CALVARY.
CHAPTER LII. THE COUNCIL.
CHAPTER LIII. HAPPINESS.
CHAPTER LIV. DUTY.
CHAPTER LV. THE IMPROVISED HOSPITAL
CHAPTER LVI. HYDROPHOBIA.
CHAPTER LVII. THE GUARDIAN ANGEL.
CHAPTER LVIII. RUIN.
CHAPTER LIX. MEMORIES.
CHAPTER LX. THE ORDEAL.
CHAPTER LXI. AMBITION.
CHAPTER LXII. TO A SOCIUS, A SOCIUS AND A HALF.
CHAPTER LXIII. FARINGHEA'S AFFECTION.
CHAPTER LXIV. AN EVENING AT SAINTE-COLOMBE'S.
CHAPTER LXV. THE NUPTIAL BED.
CHAPTER LXVI. A DUEL TO THE DEATH.
CHAPTER LXVII. A MESSAGE.
CHAPTER LXVIII. THE FIRST OF JUNE.
EPILOGUE.
CHAPTER I. FOUR YEARS AFTER.
CHAPTER II. THE REDEMPTION.
THE WANDERING JEW.
First Part.—The Transgression.
Prologue.
The Land's End of Two Worlds.
The Arctic Ocean encircles with a belt of eternal ice the desert confines of Siberia and North America—the uttermost limits of the Old and New worlds, separated by the narrow, channel, known as Behring's Straits.
The last days of September have arrived.
The equinox has brought with it darkness and Northern storms, and night will quickly close the short and dismal polar day. The sky of a dull and leaden blue is faintly lighted by a sun without warmth, whose white disk, scarcely seen above the horizon, pales before the dazzling, brilliancy of the snow that covers, as far as the eyes can reach, the boundless steppes.
To the North, this desert is bounded by a ragged coast, bristling with huge black rocks.
At the base of this Titanic mass lied enchained the petrified ocean, whose spell-bound waves appear fired as vast ranges of ice mountains, their blue peaks fading away in the far-off frost smoke, or snow vapor.
Between the twin-peaks of Cape East, the termination of Siberia, the sullen sea is seen to drive tall icebergs across a streak of dead green. There lies Behring's Straits.
Opposite, and towering over the channel, rise the granite masses of Cape Prince of Wales, the headland of North America.
These lonely latitudes do not belong to the habitable world; for the piercing cold shivers the stones, splits the trees, and causes the earth to burst asunder, which, throwing forth showers of icy spangles seems capable of enduring this solitude of frost and tempest, of famine and death.
And yet, strange to say, footprints may be traced on the snow, covering these headlands on either side of Behring's Straits.
On the American shore, the footprints are small and light, thus betraying the passage of a woman.
She has been hastening up the rocky peak, whence the drifts of Siberia are visible.
On the latter ground, footprints larger and deeper betoken the passing of a man. He also was on his way to the Straits.
It would seem that this man and woman had arrived here from opposite directions, in hope of catching a glimpse of one another, across the arm of the sea dividing the two worlds—the Old and the New.
More strange still! the man and the woman have crossed the solitudes during a terrific storm! Black pines, the growth of centuries, pointing their bent heads in different parts of the solitude like crosses in a churchyard, have been uprooted, rent, and hurled aside by the blasts!
Yet the two travellers face this furious tempest, which has plucked up trees, and pounded the frozen masses into splinters, with the roar of thunder.
They face it, without for one single instant deviating from the straight line hitherto followed by them.
Who then are these two beings who advance thus calmly amidst the storms and convulsions of nature?
Is it by chance, or design, or destiny, that the seven nails in the sole of the man's shoe form a cross—thus:
*
* * *
*
*
*
Everywhere he leaves this impress behind him.
On the smooth and polished snow, these footmarks seem imprinted by a foot of brass on a marble floor.
Night without twilight has soon succeeded day—a night of foreboding gloom.
The brilliant reflection of the snow renders the white steppes still visible beneath the azure darkness of the sky; and the pale stars glimmer on the obscure and frozen dome.
Solemn silence reigns.
But, towards the Straits, a faint light appears.
At first, a gentle, bluish light, such as precedes moonrise; it increases in brightness, and assumes a ruddy hue.
Darkness thickens in every other direction; the white wilds of the desert are now scarcely visible under the black vault of the firmament.
Strange and confused noises are heard amidst this obscurity.
They sound like the flight of large night—birds—now flapping now-heavily skimming over the steppes-now descending.
But no cry is heard.
This silent terror heralds the approach of one of those imposing phenomena that awe alike the most ferocious and the most harmless, of animated beings. An Aurora Borealis (magnificent sight!) common in the polar regions, suddenly beams forth.
A half circle of dazzling whiteness becomes visible in the horizon. Immense columns of light stream forth from this dazzling centre, rising to a great height, illuminating earth, sea, and sky. Then a brilliant reflection, like the blaze of a conflagration, steals over the snow of the desert, purples the summits of the mountains of ice, and imparts a dark red hue to the black rocks of both continents.
After attaining this magnificent brilliancy, the Northern Lights fade away gradually, and their vivid glow is lost in a luminous fog.
Just then, by a wondrous mirage an effect very common in high latitudes, the American Coast, though separated from Siberia by a broad arm of the sea, loomed so close that a bridge might seemingly be thrown from one world to other.
Then human forms appeared in the transparent azure haze overspreading both forelands.
On the Siberian Cape, a man on his knees, stretched his arms towards America, with an expression of inconceivable despair.
On the American promontory, a young and handsome woman replied to the man's despairing gesture by pointing to heaven.
For some seconds, these two tall figures stood out, pale and shadowy, in the farewell gleams of the Aurora.
But the fog thickens, and all is lost in the darkness.
Whence came the two beings, who met thus amidst polar glaciers, at the extremities of the Old and New worlds?
Who were the two creatures, brought near for a moment by a deceitful mirage, but who seemed eternally separated?
CHAPTER I. MOROK.
The month of October, 1831, draws to its close.
Though it is still day, a brass lamp, with four burners, illumines the cracked walls of a large loft, whose solitary window is closed against outer light. A ladder, with its top rungs coming up through an open trap leads to it.
Here and there at random on the floor lie iron chains, spiked collars, saw-toothed snaffles, muzzles bristling with nails, and long iron rods set in wooden handles. In one corner stands a portable furnace, such as tinkers use to melt their spelter; charcoal and dry chips fill it, so that a spark would suffice to kindle this furnace in a minute.
Not far from this collection of ugly instruments, putting one in mind of a torturer's kit of tools, there are some articles of defence and offence of a bygone age. A coat of mail, with links so flexible, close, and light, that it resembles steel tissue, hangs from a box beside iron cuishes and arm-pieces, in good condition, even to being properly fitted with straps. A mace, and two long three-cornered-headed pikes, with ash handles, strong, and light at the same time; spotted with lately-shed blood, complete the armory, modernized somewhat by the presence of two Tyrolese rifles, loaded and primed.
Along with this arsenal of murderous weapons and out-of-date instruments, is strangely mingled a collection of very different objects, being small glass-lidded boxes, full of rosaries, chaplets, medals, AGNUS DEI, holy water bottles, framed pictures of saints, etc., not to forget a goodly number of those chapbooks, struck off in Friburg on coarse bluish paper, in which you can hear about miracles of our own time, or "Jesus Christ's Letter to a true believer," containing awful predictions, as for the years 1831 and '32, about impious revolutionary France.
One of those canvas daubs, with which strolling showmen adorn their booths, hangs from a rafter, no doubt to prevent its being spoilt by too long rolling up. It bore the following legend:
"THE DOWNRIGHT TRUE AND MOST MEMORABLE CONVERSION OF IGNATIUS MOROK,
KNOWN AS THE PROPHET, HAPPENING IN FRIBURG, 1828TH YEAR OF GRACE."
This picture, of a size larger than natural, of gaudy color, and in bad taste, is divided into three parts, each presenting an important phase in the life of the convert, surnamed "The Prophet." In the first, behold a long-bearded man, the hair almost white, with uncouth face, and clad in reindeer skin, like the Siberian savage. His black foreskin cap is topped with a raven's head; his features express terror. Bent forward in his sledge, which half-a-dozen huge tawny dogs draw over the snow, he is fleeing from the pursuit of a pack of foxes, wolves, and big bears, whose gaping jaws, and formidable teeth, seem quite capable of devouring man, sledge, and dogs, a hundred times over.
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