Ben Hur (78 page)

"Comfort thee!" said Ben-Hur. "Doubtless they too are here."

The dimness went on deepening into obscurity, and that into
positive darkness, but without deterring the bolder spirits upon
the knoll. One after the other the thieves were raised on their
crosses, and the crosses planted. The guard was then withdrawn,
and the people set free closed in upon the height, and surged
up it, like a converging wave. A man might take a look, when a
new-comer would push him on, and take his place, to be in turn
pushed on—and there were laughter and ribaldry and revilements,
all for the Nazarene.

"Ha, ha! If thou be King of the Jews, save thyself," a soldier
shouted.

"Ay," said a priest, "if he will come down to us now, we will
believe in him.

Others wagged their heads wisely, saying, "He would destroy the
Temple, and rebuild it in three days, but cannot save himself."

Others still: "He called himself the Son of God; let us see if
God will have him."

What all there is in prejudice no one has ever said. The Nazarene
had never harmed the people; far the greater part of them had
never seen him except in this his hour of calamity; yet—singular
contrariety!— they loaded him with their curses, and gave their
sympathy to the thieves.

The supernatural night, dropped thus from the heavens, affected
Esther as it began to affect thousands of others braver and stronger.

"Let us go home," she prayed—twice, three times—saying, "It is
the frown of God, father. What other dreadful things may happen,
who can tell? I am afraid."

Simonides was obstinate. He said little, but was plainly under
great excitement. Observing, about the end of the first hour,
that the violence of the crowding up on the knoll was somewhat
abated, at his suggestion the party advanced to take position
nearer the crosses. Ben-Hur gave his arm to Balthasar; yet the
Egyptian made the ascent with difficulty. From their new stand,
the Nazarene was imperfectly visible, appearing to them not more
than a dark suspended figure. They could hear him, however—hear
his sighing, which showed an endurance or exhaustion greater than
that of his fellow-sufferers; for they filled every lull in the
noises with their groans and entreaties.

The second hour after the suspension passed like the first one.
To the Nazarene they were hours of insult, provocation, and slow
dying. He spoke but once in the time. Some women came and knelt
at the foot of his cross. Among them he recognized his mother
with the beloved disciple.

"Woman," he said, raising his voice, "behold thy son!" And to the
disciple, "Behold thy mother!"

The third hour came, and still the people surged round the hill,
held to it by some strange attraction, with which, in probability,
the night in midday had much to do. They were quieter than in the
preceding hour; yet at intervals they could be heard off in the
darkness shouting to each other, multitude calling unto multitude.
It was noticeable, also, that coming now to the Nazarene,
they approached his cross in silence, took the look in silence,
and so departed. This change extended even to the guard, who so
shortly before had cast lots for the clothes of the crucified;
they stood with their officers a little apart, more watchful
of the one convict than of the throngs coming and going. If he
but breathed heavily, or tossed his head in a paroxysm of pain,
they were instantly on the alert. Most marvellous of all, however,
was the altered behavior of the high-priest and his following,
the wise men who had assisted him in the trial in the night, and,
in the victim's face, kept place by him with zealous approval.
When the darkness began to fall, they began to lose their
confidence. There were among them many learned in astronomy,
and familiar with the apparitions so terrible in those days
to the masses; much of the knowledge was descended to them from
their fathers far back; some of it had been brought away at the
end of the Captivity; and the necessities of the Temple service
kept it all bright. These closed together when the sun commenced
to fade before their eyes, and the mountains and hills to recede;
they drew together in a group around their pontiff, and debated
what they saw. "The moon is at its full," they said, with truth,
"and this cannot be an eclipse." Then, as no one could answer the
question common with them all—as no one could account for the
darkness, or for its occurrence at that particular time, in their
secret hearts they associated it with the Nazarene, and yielded
to an alarm which the long continuance of the phenomenon steadily
increased. In their place behind the soldiers, they noted every
word and motion of the Nazarene, and hung with fear upon his sighs,
and talked in whispers. The man might be the Messiah, and then—
But they would wait and see!

In the meantime Ben-Hur was not once visited by the old spirit.
The perfect peace abode with him. He prayed simply that the end
might be hastened. He knew the condition of Simonides' mind—that he
was hesitating on the verge of belief. He could see the massive face
weighed down by solemn reflection. He noticed him casting inquiring
glances at the sun, as seeking the cause of the darkness. Nor did
he fail to notice the solicitude with which Esther clung to him,
smothering her fears to accommodate his wishes.

"Be not afraid," he heard him say to her; "but stay and watch with
me. Thou mayst live twice the span of my life, and see nothing of
human interest equal to this; and there may be revelations more.
Let us stay to the close."

When the third hour was about half gone, some men of the rudest
class—wretches from the tombs about the city—came and stopped
in front of the centre cross.

"This is he, the new King of the Jews," said one of them.

The others cried, with laughter, "Hail, all hail, King of the
Jews!"

Receiving no reply, they went closer.

"If thou be King of the Jews, or Son of God, come down," they said,
loudly.

At this, one of the thieves quit groaning, and called to the Nazarene,
"Yes, if thou be Christ, save thyself and us."

The people laughed and applauded; then, while they were listening
for a reply, the other felon was heard to say to the first one,
"Dost thou not fear God? We receive the due rewards of our deeds;
but this man hath done nothing amiss."

The bystanders were astonished; in the midst of the hush which
ensued, the second felon spoke again, but this time to the Nazarene:

"Lord," he said, "remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom."

Simonides gave a great start. "When thou comest into thy kingdom!"
It was the very point of doubt in his mind; the point he had so
often debated with Balthasar.

"Didst thou hear?" said Ben-Hur to him. "The kingdom cannot be of
this world. Yon witness saith the King is but going to his kingdom;
and, in effect, I heard the same in my dream."

"Hush!" said Simonides, more imperiously than ever before in
speech to Ben-Hur. "Hush, I pray thee! If the Nazarene should
answer—"

And as he spoke the Nazarene did answer, in a clear voice, full of
confidence:

"Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise!"

Simonides waited to hear if that were all; then he folded his hands
and said, "No more, no more, Lord! The darkness is gone; I see with
other eyes—even as Balthasar, I see with eyes of perfect faith."

The faithful servant had at last his fitting reward. His broken
body might never be restored; nor was there riddance of the
recollection of his sufferings, or recall of the years embittered
by them; but suddenly a new life was shown him, with assurance
that it was for him—a new life lying just beyond this one—and
its name was Paradise. There he would find the Kingdom of which
he had been dreaming, and the King. A perfect peace fell upon him.

Over the way, in front of the cross, however, there were surprise
and consternation. The cunning casuists there put the assumption
underlying the question and the admission underlying the answer
together. For saying through the land that he was the Messiah,
they had brought the Nazarene to the cross; and, lo! on the
cross, more confidently than ever, he had not only reasserted
himself, but promised enjoyment of his Paradise to a malefactor.
They trembled at what they were doing. The pontiff, with all his
pride, was afraid. Where got the man his confidence except from
Truth? And what should the Truth be but God? A very little now
would put them all to flight.

The breaching of the Nazarene grew harder, his sighs became
great gasps. Only three hours upon the cross, and he was dying!

The intelligence was carried from man to man, until every one
knew it; and then everything hushed; the breeze faltered and died;
a stifling vapor loaded the air; heat was superadded to darkness;
nor might any one unknowing the fact have thought that off the
hill, out under the overhanging pall, there were three millions
of people waiting awe-struck what should happen next—they were
so still!

Then there went out through the gloom, over the heads of such as
were on the hill within hearing of the dying man, a cry of despair,
if not reproach:

"My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken me?"

The voice startled all who heard it. One it touched uncontrollably.

The soldiers in coming had brought with them a vessel of wine and
water, and set it down a little way from Ben-Hur. With a sponge
dipped into the liquor, and put on the end of a stick, they could
moisten the tongue of a sufferer at their pleasure. Ben-Hur thought
of the draught he had had at the well near Nazareth; an impulse
seized him; catching up the sponge, he dipped it into the vessel,
and started for the cross.

"Let him be!" the people in the way shouted, angrily. "Let him
be!"

Without minding them, he ran on, and put the sponge to the
Nazarene's lips.

Too late, too late!

The face then plainly seen by Ben-Hur, bruised and black with
blood and dust as it was, lighted nevertheless with a sudden glow;
the eyes opened wide, and fixed upon some one visible to them alone
in the far heavens; and there were content and relief, even triumph,
in the shout the victim gave.

"It is finished! It is finished!"

So a hero, dying in the doing a great deed, celebrates his success
with a last cheer.

The light in the eyes went out; slowly the crowned head sank upon
the laboring breast. Ben-Hur thought the struggle over; but the
fainting soul recollected itself, so that he and those around him
caught the other and last words, spoken in a low voice, as if to
one listening close by:

"Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

A tremor shook the tortured body; there was a scream of fiercest
anguish, and the mission and the earthly life were over at once.
The heart, with all its love, was broken; for of that, O reader,
the man died!

Ben-Hur went back to his friends, saying, simply, "It is over;
he is dead."

In a space incredibly short the multitude was informed of the
circumstance. No one repeated it aloud; there was a murmur which
spread from the knoll in every direction; a murmur that was little
more than a whispering, "He is dead! he is dead!" and that was all.
The people had their wish; the Nazarene was dead; yet they stared
at each other aghast. His blood was upon them! And while they stood
staring at each other, the ground commenced to shake; each man took
hold of his neighbor to support himself; in a twinkling the darkness
disappeared, and the sun came out; and everybody, as with the same
glance, beheld the crosses upon the hill all reeling drunken-like
in the earthquake. They beheld all three of them; but the one in
the centre was arbitrary; it alone would be seen; and for that it
seemed to extend itself upwards, and lift its burden, and swing it to
and fro higher and higher in the blue of the sky. And every man among
them who had jeered at the Nazarene; every one who had struck him;
every one who had voted to crucify him; every one who had marched in
the procession from the city; every one who had in his heart wished
him dead, and they were as ten to one, felt that he was in some way
individually singled out from the many, and that if he would live
he must get away quickly as possible from that menace in the sky.
They started to run; they ran with all their might; on horseback,
and camels, and in chariots they ran, as well as on foot; but then
as if it were mad at them for what they had done, and had taken up
the cause of the unoffending and friendless dead, the earthquake
pursued them, and tossed them about, and flung them down,
and terrified them yet more by the horrible noise of great
rocks grinding and rending beneath them. They beat their breasts
and shrieked with fear. His blood was upon them! The home-bred
and the foreign, priest and layman, beggar, Sadducee, Pharisee,
were overtaken in the race, and tumbled about indiscriminately.
If they called on the Lord, the outraged earth answered for him in
fury, and dealt them all alike. It did not even know wherein the
high-priest was better than his guilty brethren; overtaking him,
it tripped him up also, and smirched the fringimg of his robe,
and filled the golden bells with sand, and his mouth with dust.
He and his people were alike in the one thing at least—the blood
of the Nazarene was upon them all!

When the sunlight broke upon the crucifixion, the mother of the
Nazarene, the disciple, and the faithful women of Galilee, the
centurion and his soldiers, and Ben-Hur and his party, were all
who remained upon the hill. These had not time to observe the
flight of the multitude; they were too loudly called upon to
take care of themselves.

"Seat thyself here," said Ben-Hur to Esther, making a place for
her at her father's feet. "Now cover thine eyes and look not up;
but put thy trust in God, and the spirit of yon just man so foully
slain."