University of Virginia Library

6. VI.

Left to himself, the musings of Amri were of no very
pleasant description. The very novelty of the constraint
was to him annoying in the last degree. The
indulgence of his father had, from his boyhood up, left
him, in a great measure, his own master. To denial
and privation of any kind he had been but little accustomed.
It may not challenge much wonder, therefore,
if, in his new condition of confinement, he found himself
wanting in most of those sources of native strength
which could enable him to endure it with tolerable
patience. As it is only the strong-minded man that
makes the true use of freedom, so it is only the strong-minded
that can best endure constraint and privation.
The mind of Amri had neither strength nor elasticity.
When free—if such a mind can ever be esteemed to
possess, as it certainly never does perfectly appreciate

freedom—it never was satisfied until it plunged into
some fettering weakness—some palsying indulgence;
and when denied and deprived of liberty, it was prostrate
and utterly deficient in energy and concentration.
He raved in his prison like a fevered child, when his
father and Melchior had fairly departed. He threw
himself upon the floor, beat the walls, tore his hair, and
yelled aloud in the very impotency of his boyish vexation.
Exhaustion at length effected what thought never
could have achieved with him. It brought him quiet;
and, after some hours of puerile excitement and misdirected
anger, he was at length surprised by sleep, and
slept for some time, until awakened by his father, who
brought him food.

But let us not anticipate. Let us go back to Melchior
and Adoniakim. After leaving the youth to his
prison, they returned to the chamber which they had
left, and there renewed the conference, which the meeting
with Amri, and the subsequent matter which had
taken place between them, had completely interrupted
for the time. Long and serious was their conference.
They discussed the plans of the conspiracy now ripening
to its open development. Every thing depended
upon their secrecy and circumspection until that period.
Their men were gathering along the passes of the
neighbouring mountains. Several of their leaders were
concealed within the walls of Cordova; and though it
was not then the hope of the Bishop Oppas or of Pelayo
to carry the city, yet they fully trusted that with
the first open show of insurrection, many discontents,
now inactive and unknown, would at once declare themselves
under the banner of revolt. The Jews, fully
confirming the promise and prediction of Melchior, had
freely given of their wealth, and pledged their young
men to the cause of the princes, in the hope of overthrowing
that domination which had ground them to the
dust in its unrelaxing and ruinous exactions. Two

thousand of them were already volunteered, and it was
hoped, — when the news of the rebellion could reach
Merida and other places where they were numerous,
that the number of Hebrews engaged in the active progress
of the war would not fall short of five thousand
men. These were yet to be disposed of and directed;
and it was one part of the business which Melchior
then had with Adoniakim, to devise certain modes of
bringing thse troops in small bodies from distant places,
to the general co-operation with the native insurgents,
without exposing them to be cut off by the already
armed and active troops which, under various commands,
the usurper Roderick had distributed over the
country. On this point they soon came to a satisfactory
conclusion, and effected all necessary arrangements.
Their final deliberations being now completed among
themselves, preparatory to the great general meeting of
the conspirators, which was to take place at the Cave
of Wamba in a few nights,—the subject of his son's
conduct, and of his own future course with him, was one
natural to the thought of Adoniakim, and as naturally
the subject of his spoken concern to Melchior. The
latter was a stern, though strictly just, arbiter. He did
not scruple to discourage the weaknesses of the father.

“He is now safe, and so far we have nothing to
apprehend at his hands. But our apprehensions would
return with his enlargement, and we must keep him
where he is for a while. We are free only while he remains
our prisoner.”

“What! confined to that narrow cell, my brother?”
demanded the too indulgent father, while his inmost
heart yearned, in spite of all the mean misconduct of the
youth, for his enlargement.

“Ay, there, Adoniakim: what better place to keep
him securely and without question? There he is beyond
all hearing of the stranger. He may not alarm
by his cries the neighbouring dwellings, for the court

upon which that chamber only looks is, thou hast said,
confronted by thine own.”

“It is—it is safe, indeed, my brother; but, Melchior,
he will die of that constraint. It is a miserable chamber—the
cell in which the unanswering debtor was restrained.”

“Fear nothing, Adoniakim; thy tenderness makes
thee apprehensive overmuch. He will suffer only in
his mind, which is moody because of its disappointment.
The cell of the poor debtor cannot be too dreadful a
place for the viperous and dishonest criminal; and the
restraint will be of vast benefit to a temper so ill-governed
as that of Amri, while it will be but a moderate
chastisement of his most heinous offence.”

“And how long, my brother, dost thou think that it
will be needful for us to hold him in this confinement?”
demanded the father.

“Till we are safe!” replied Melchior; “till the
meeting is over in the Cave of Wamba—till the first
blow is stricken for the freedom of the Hebrew! That
is the secret which is in his keeping, and which he
would not—he could not—keep were he free. He
would instantly bear it to his dissolute accomplice,
Edacer, whom the rebel Roderick has just made Governor
of Cordova. It would be a glorious stroke for
Edacer, our arrest and that of Pelayo, by which to
commend himself to Roderick. It was this which so
maddened the youth, and prompted his audacious insolence.
It was the assurance that he should find ready
aid from the power of Edacer that led him to defy thee,
his father, and to denounce me, the friend of his father
and of his people, though we both toiled, unselfishly,
for his own and the freedom of that people. We cannot
trust him to go forth until the blow is struck, when
it will be of no avail to our injury that he should speak;
for then, with the aid of Jehovah, we ourselves shall
have spoken, in a language for the whole nation to

hear. Let him then be free, and thou wilt then see by
his future bearing whether there be hope that he may
return to the paths of his duty. If he be worthy of thy
thought, he will take arms in our ranks; if he do not
this, forget, Adoniakim, that thou ever hadst a son; and,
in the battle, bid the warriors of the Hebrew not look
to see if the enemy they strike in the bosom wears a
semblance such as thine. Should thy own arm be uplifted
then, thou shouldst strike still, though thy weapon
be driven unerringly into the mouth of one who called
thee father with the blow, and prayed for its forbearance
with his dying breath. In that hour, as in this, having
the cause of thy people to strike for, thou shouldst no
more heed thy son than did Jephthah the daughter of
his love, when the solemn duty was before him for performance,
to which he had pledged himself in the sight
of Heaven and his country. Let him but cross my
path in the battle other than as a friend, and I slay him
as a base hound which hath turned in its madness upon
his owner.”

The stern resolve of Melchior paralyzed the weak
old man. His speech was interrupted by his tears—

“Thou wilt not, Melchior—thou wilt not. Thou
wilt spare him, if it be only for my sake—for the sake
of Adoniakim,” he implored.

“Were it only for thy sake, Adoniakim, I should
slay him; and, for his own sake—to save him from
a worse doom and a more open disgrace—thou too
shouldst slay him. But let us speak no more of this.
It may be that he will grow wise when he beholds the
whole of his nation in arms, and join heartily and with
an honest feeling in our cause. Let us hope for this,
and think farther upon no evil things. For the present,
thou wilt keep him secure. Bear him his food thyself—
trust no one in his presence—trust him not thyself.
Speak to him kindly; promise him fairly; but I warn
thee, Adoniakim, trust him neither with his own person

nor with thine, and beware that he practise not cunningly
upon thee, to thy ruin and his own escape.”

With these words Melchior prepared to depart, and
Adoniakim followed him to the entrance. The eye of
Melchior caught that of Mahlon, who attended them,
scrutinizingly fixed upon him, and he then drew Adoniakim
back into the apartment to repeat the warning
which he had already given him, to allow no one to
have communication with Amri, and to bear his food to
him with his own hands.

“And trust not thyself in the chamber with him, my
brother. Thou canst convey to him the food and water
through the bars above the door. Beware, too, that
thou sufferest not too much of thy person to be within
the control or reach of his; and see, when thou seekest
him, that thou goest armed.”

“Why, thou dost not think, Melchior, that the boy
would seek to do a violence to his own father?” said
Adoniakim, with a sort of horror in his countenance.

“Would he not have betrayed thee to the violence
of others? The traitor, if need be and occasion serve,
will not scruple to become a murderer, and thy son is a
traitor to his father and to his people. Beware of him
—again I counsel thee—beware that thy affection for
thy child mislead thee not, in his indulgence, to thy own
and the grievous undoing of others.”

They separated, Melchior to move other friends to
the cause, and to complete other arrangements prior to
the great meeting of the conspirators; and Adoniakim
to prepare his business generally, against all of the numerous
hazards accumulating about him with the prospect
of that wild change which was so near at hand.