Does a century end with a 99 or with a double zero? How you answer that question determines the answer to my trivia question: What was the bestselling American novel of the nineteenth century? Many sources say it was Uncle Tom’s Cabin or Life Among the Lowly (published in 1852), but others say that in 1900 Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ had passed Uncle Tom’s Cabin in sales. Ben-Hur, published twenty-eight years after Harriet Beecher Stowe’s book, was a phenomenon. It remained the largest selling American novel until it was surpassed by 1936’s Gone with the Wind, when the literate American population was much larger than it was a half-century before. My guess, however, is that while many readers of this blog not only know the author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, they have read the book, and that many also have read Gone with the Wind and know that Margaret Mitchell wrote it. How many, however, have read Ben-Hur or even know the name of the author?
Although it did not make it to my small Wisconsin town until six months after its premiere, the 1959 movie first introduced me to Judah Ben-Hur. It was one of my first dates. However, any of my hopes for a makeout session before going home were dashed — not, I am sure, because of my lack of charm and appeal –but by both the film’s religious conclusion and its length. The movie is over three-and-a-half hours long and that does not include the overture (remember movie overtures?) and the intermission (remember movie intermissions?). The movie was a huge box-office success and won eleven Oscars, including for best movie and best actor for Charlton Heston, who seemingly did not learn from his role that you can be a hero without holding a gun. (Eleven Oscars have not been surpassed but that total has been matched by Titanic and one of those god-awful Lord of the Rings nerdfests.)Other actors were considered for the lead role including Burt Lancaster and Paul Newman, who apparently turned it down because he was convinced that he did not have the legs for a tunic. (Did Newman ever show his legs in any of his movies?)
This movie was not the first visual depiction of the book. In 1899, a play of Ben-Hur opened on Broadway. The book’s author only consented to the theatrical production after stipulating that the crucifixion not be staged and that Jesus not be portrayed by an actor. Instead, Christ was suggested by a beam of light. In the 1959 movie version, an actor portrayed Jesus, but his face is not seen and his voice is not heard. In the 2016 remake, an actor for the first time portrayed the voice, face, and figure of Jesus. There was also a 1925 version. It starred the Mexican American heartthrob Ramon Novarro, né José Ramón Gil Samaniego, who became Hollywood’s Latin Lover after the death of Rudy Valentino and whose considerable appeal apparently also included his legs and whose closeted homosexuality helped cause his gruesome murder in 1968.
Of course, Ben-Hur is not complete without the chariot races which, in the 1959 movie comprise a thrilling nine minutes long segment (with a teenage boy yelling out during my initial viewing that the bloody face of a driver looked like a pizza, a food only recently introduced to my town.) In that long-ago live play, it was staged with live horses running on hidden treadmills. The stage production was so successful that it toured for two decades requiring four railroad cars to transport the equipment. Over twenty million people saw it.
Although I have seen televised fragments of the 1959 movie many times since my high school days, I gave Ben-Hur little thought over the next half-century. Covid changed that. At the beginning of the pandemic, the local, friendly library where I spend summers erected a plexiglass shield to separate patrons from staff at the checkout desk. On the patron’s side, two stacks of books held the plastic upright. The blue bindings, all the same, suggested “classics.” I now know that they were part of the International Collectors Library. An insert in each books said they came in “The William Morris Binding, a modern adaptation of a superb Old Victorian bookbinding specimen.” The original covering was designed by William Morris for his book Utopia.
Ben-Hur was on the top of the right-hand side stack of books restraining the plexiglass. After a few visits to the post-Covid checkout facility, I asked if I could take out Ben-Hur. I was told that I could not because it continued to be part of the protective device’s support system. Recently, however, I asked the wonderful librarian again about the novel’s availability. Mary Ann, tall and slender with a charming smile and sparkling eyes, said yes. (I have never had a real conversation with Mary Ann, but I am convinced that she is smart and witty. Alas, I confess to being too old for her.)
Reading the book has made me interested in Lew Wallace, who, of course, is the author of Ben-Hur, but it turns out that he was much more than a writer. I had known that he was a Civil War general but I knew little else about his remarkable life. Lewis Wallace was born in 1827 in Indiana. When the Mexican War started, the nineteen-year-old Wallace volunteered for the army. Serving under Zachary Taylor, he did not see combat but became a regimental adjutant and left this army service as a first lieutenant. He returned to Indiana, married Susan Arnold Elston, had a son, practiced law, and served a term as a Democrat in the state legislature.
Two weeks after the attack on Fort Sumter, Wallace, a firm believer in the Union, became the commander of an Indiana regiment. Five months later, after involvement in some minor battles, he became a brigadier general and was given command of a brigade. Early in 1862, after performing well in more major actions, Wallace was promoted to major general, the youngest (age 34) in the Union army. Within a month, however, Grant and others criticized his decisions at the Battle of Shiloh (Wallace maintained that his orders were unclear), and he was removed from front-line command. Throughout his life, Wallace felt that the blame from Shiloh was unjust, and even near his death fifty years after the battle, he was still defending his actions at the battle.
Wallace, however, continued with his military career with notable successes in Kentucky and in defending Cincinnati. However, what gained him most praise was not a victory. Confederate General Jubal Early, with superior forces, defeated Wallace’s troops at Monocacy Junction, Maryland, not far from Washington, D.C. With skillful maneuvering, however, Wallace’s army impeded the Confederate drive to Washington for a day, giving Grant time to send reinforcements to the capital. Grant recognized Wallace’s effective tactics and praised him at the time and later in his autobiography.
(continued July 27)
