University of Virginia Library

18. XVIII.

The solemn religious rites of both Jew and Christian
were ended, and the great body of both parties had
thrown themselves down among the rocks to snatch a
few hours of refreshing sleep before the dawning of that
day of trial. But there were some among that beleaguered
people that closed not their eyes, but kept watch
throughout the long and weary hours of that night. Of
this number was Egiza, whom a sense of degradation
kept awake. Pelayo slept fitfully, but with his body
only. Severe labours, continued without indulgence of
sleep, had brought exhaustion of frame, but his mind
addressed itself too earnestly to the task before him to
allow of much indulgence now. He rose at intervals
from the rocky ledge on which he had thrown himself
for slumber, and perambulated the encampment. He
saw that his sentries kept good watch, and the clamour
of carousal from the tents of Edacer below relieved
him from any apprehension of attack while the night
lasted. The stillness of design and preparation was
wanting to the enemy, and their heedless indulgence
called for little precaution on the part of the beleaguered.
But Pelayo relaxed not his diligence and watch, and
throughout the night he made a frequent tour of observation,
which kept his own men to their duties, and
would have set at naught any enterprise of the foe.
He was too good a warrior to suspend his caution because
he saw that his enemy was deficient in adventure.

Not less sleepless were Melchior and his daughter.
The conversation was long and sad between them.
She had a thousand questions to ask of her deceased
mother, of whom she knew but little, and of whom her
father had always seemed most unwilling to speak.
Her story had been one of many sorrows to herself and
him. But now he spoke more freely. He recounted

their wanderings of the desert for twenty years, their
toils and troubles, and of her final and violent death.
It seemed as if their present extremity gave Thyrza a
right to hear, which he had always before denied her.
At length, by little and little, the subject of the Christian
rites which they had just witnessed was glanced at by
Melchior, who compared them with the awful pomp
and measured ceremonials of the ancient Hebrew
church, or, as he fondly styled it, the Church of God.

“Yet, my father,” said the maiden, “if the doctrine
of the Christian should be true—if the Nazarene were,
in truth, a god!”

“It avails not that we should speak of this,” said the
old man. “Can a god die? No! He perished, my
daughter, and though I would not that he had been slain,
for he was a pure and blessed spirit, yet I cannot think
the prophecy accomplished in his coming. It was a
narrow policy in the Jewish people to seek his death,
for, of a certainty, he strove for the rescue of Israel from
the tyrannic sway of the Roman; yet was it not so
much the deed of our people as of the selfish priesthood
who led them. They feared the rise of another faith,
which should swallow up their authority; and the Nazarene
died, not because of the doctrine which he taught,
but because he himself was a teacher. He was a good
man, and his deeds and designs were holy; but I cannot
think, my child, that he was a god, as the Christians
regard him.”

“But we do not know, my father—I would that we
did—the Christians are men of wisdom not less than of
valour, and the fortunes of the Jew—scattered and dispersed
abroad over the nations—the outcast, as it were,
of Heaven—would seem to uphold their opinion of us,
that we are thus outcast from Heaven's favour because
of our assault upon Heaven's King. If we could think
like these Christians, my father, methinks our state
would be more hopeful.”

“Think, my child, as thou mayst. Thought is no

slave, that thou shouldst send it hither and thither. Thou
hast no command upon thy thought save as thou shalt
strive to know and to esteem the truth. It is for thee
to know the truth, and from thy knowledge comes thy
thought. If, after thou hast striven after the truth with
all thy soul and with all thy strength, thou shouldst then
think as the Christian or as the Jew, thou art equally
good with either, and equally worthy in the sight of the
Father; for it is religion no less than wisdom to labour
only after the truth. The labour makes the religion.
This done, thou hast done all. Thy mere opinions, in
the end, whether they be right or wrong, I hold to be of
little import in the making up of thy great accounts with
Heaven. What matters it, in the sight of the great Jehovah,
what is the thought of so frail a creature as man?
He needs not his opinions for his justification, for he is
just; he needs not his arguments for his state, for he is
kingly beyond all the kings of the earth. He needs but
his proper performance, that his obedience may be made
manifest, and that the prediction shall be accomplished
which is to bring all the tribes of men, and all the ends
of the earth, in meekness and communion together.
The thoughts of man and his opinions—made up of
his narrow experience, and subject to his moods of temper
or of education, of sickness or of health, are commonly
error—God be merciful, and judge of us, not according
to our thoughts, but according to our performances.”

“Father, let us pray now, that we may think with becoming
wisdom, and know those things only which are
true.”

“Thou art the truth, my child, the blessed truth—
thy heart is on thy duties ever, and thou errest not from
the path in which it is fitting thou shouldst go. Thy
life to me hath been like some blessed star shining out
ever from its appointed place, and looking always most
lovely when the hour grew darkest. As thou sayest,
let us pray.”