by Eugène Sue
‘Jane, will you also go out of the town?’ said Aurelia to Chusa’s wife: ‘it is now daylight; let us return home; it will be imprudent to prolong our absence.’
‘I shall not return yet; I will follow Jesus to the end of the world,’ replied Jane with exultation, and descending from her bench, she drew from her pocket a heavy purse filled with gold, which she placed in Simon’s hand, at the moment he was about to quit the tavern after Mary’s son.
‘The young man has emptied his purse to-night,’ said Jane to Simon, ‘here is something to re-fill it.’
‘You, lady, again!’ replied Simon with thankfulness, at the sight of Jane: ‘your charity does not flag.’
‘’Tis the tenderness of your master that does not flag in succoring people, consoling the poor, the repentant, and the oppressed,’ replied the wife of Chusa.
Genevieve, who had anxiously listened to every word that had fallen from the emissaries of the pharisees, heard one of the two men say to the other:
‘Follow and watch the Nazarene; I will run to the Seigneurs Caiphus and Baruch to render them an account of the abominable blasphemies and impieties he has uttered to-night in company with these vagabonds. The Nazarene must not this time escape the fate that awaits him;’ and the two men separated. Aurelia, who seemed to have been reflecting, said to her companion: ‘Jane, I cannot express to you what I experience from the words of this young man. At one time so simple, tender and elevated, at another satirical and threatening, they penetrate my heart. They are, to my mind, like a new world that is opening; for to us, poor heathens, the word charity is new. Far from being appeased, my curiosity, my interest, increase, and whatever may happen, I will follow you; what matter, after all, if we do return to our dwellings after daybreak?’
Hearing her mistress thus speak, Genevieve was very happy, for thinking of her brother slaves of Gaul, she, too, felt a great desire to hear more of the words of the young Nazarene, the friend and liberator of captives. At the moment of quitting the tavern with her mistress and the charitable wife of the seigneur Chusa, Genevieve was the witness of a scene that proved to her how speedily the word of Jesus had borne its fruit. Magdalen, the handsome, repentant courtezan, habited in the old woollen mantle of a poor woman, exchanged for such rich attire, Magdalen, following the anxious crowd behind Jesus, struck her foot against a stone in the street, tottered, and would have fallen to the ground but for the assistance of Jane and Aurelia, who, fortunately, being close to her, hastened to support her.
‘What! you, Jane, the wife of the Seigneur Chusa?’ said the courtezan, reddening with confusion, thinking, no doubt, of the rich presents she had received from Chusa: ‘you, Jane, you have no fear in tendering me a helping hand; I, a poor creature justly despised by all honest women?’
‘Magdalen,’ replied Jane with charming kindness: ‘did not our young master tell you to go in peace, and that all your sins would be remitted you, because you have loved much? By what right should I be more severe than Jesus of Nazareth? Your hand, Magdalen, your hand; ’tis a sister who asks it of you as a sign of pardon and oblivion of the past!’
Magdalen took the hand that Jane offered her, but it was to kiss it with respect, and cover it with tears of repentance.
‘Ah! Jane,’ said quietly to her friend Genevieve’s mistress; ‘the young man of Nazareth would be gratified to see you practice his precepts so generously.’
Jane, Aurelia and Magdalen, following the crowd, were soon outside of the gates of Jerusalem.
The sun, now rising in its splendor, illumined to a great distance the country of the valley of Cedron, whose oriental aspect, so new to Genevieve, always struck her with surprise and admiration. It being the season of spring, early this year, the plains which extended to the gates of Jerusalem were as verdant and as florid as those of Saron, which Genevieve had traversed when coming from Jaffa (the place where she had landed) to reach Jerusalem with her mistress. The white and red roses, the narcissus, the anemony, the yellow gilly-flowers, and the odiferous immortelles (or everlasting flowers) embalmed the air and enamelled the fields with their beautiful colors, still moist with the dew.
On the road-side, a cluster of palm trees shaded the dome of a fountain, where already came to drink the large fat buffaloes, coupled to their yoke, and conducted by laborers habited in a robe of camel skin.
Shepherds also brought to the fountain their flocks of goats with long ears, and sheep with immense tails, whilst young women of swarthy complexion, dressed in white, arrived no doubt from a village seen at a short distance, half hidden by a wood of olive trees, drew water from the fountain and returned to the village, carrying on their head, half enveloped in their white veils, large flasks of spring water. Farther on, along the dusky road which serpentined in a descent from the highest peaks of the mountains, whose summits were slowly disengaging themselves from the gray blue vapors of the morning, was seen advancing, at a snail’s pace, a long caravan, which rose above the elongated necks of the camels loaded with bales.
All along the road, followed by Genevieve, blue pigeons, larks and wagtails, nesting in the groves of nopal and fir, made a chorus of sweet songs, whilst a white stork, with red legs, rose in the air holding a snake in his beak.
Several herdsmen and laborers, learning from the persons who followed the Nazarene, that he was repairing to the little hill of Cedron to preach good news, changed their route, and driving their flocks on one side, augmented the crowd attached to the steps of Jesus of Nazareth. Jane, Aurelia and Genevieve thus approached the village, half hidden in the wood of olive trees through which they had to pass to arrive at the hill. On a sudden from this wood, they saw issue in a tumult a great number of men and women, uttering cries and horrid imprecations.
At the head of this troop marched the doctors of the law and the high priests; two of the latter were leading a handsome young girl, with naked arms and feet, barely attired in a tunic. Shame and terror were painted on her countenance bathed in tears; her scattered hair covered her naked shoulders.
From time to time, demanding grace through her sobs, she threw herself, in her despair, on her knees upon the stones in the road, despite the efforts of the two priests, who, each holding her by an arm and thus dragging her through the dust, soon forced her to rise and walk with them. The crowd overwhelmed with hootings, imprecations and insults this unfortunate girl, as terrified as a woman being led to execution.
At sight of this tumult the son of Mary, surprised, stopped; those who accompanied him also stopped, and ranged themselves in a circle behind him.
The priests and the doctors of the law, no doubt recognizing the young man of Nazareth, made a sign to the people of the village, from whom the cries and fury redoubled every moment, to stop a few paces distant. Then those wrathful people, men and women, picked up large stones, with which they remained armed, from time to time insulting and threatening the weeping prisoner.
The priests and doctors of the law, to whom the emissaries of the pharisees had gone to speak in secret, dragged the unfortunate creature to the feet of Jesus, whom she also began to implore in her terror, raising towards him her face bathed in tears, and her maimed hands covered with blood and dust. One of the priests then said to Jesus, to prove him, and in the hope of destroying him if he did not pronounce with them.
‘This woman has just been taken in the act of adultery. Now, Moses has ordered us in the law to stone the adulteress. What is your opinion thereon?’
Jesus, instead of replying, stooped down and began to write on the sand with the end of his finger. And as the pharisees, astonished, continued to question him, he rose up and said to them as also to those of the crowd, who had armed themselves with stones,
‘Let him amongst you who is without sin, throw the first stone at this woman.’
Then, again stooping, he once more commenced writing on the sand without noticing those around him.
At the words of Mary’s son, immense applause burst from the crowd that followed
him, and Banaias exclaimed with loud laughter:
‘Well spoken, friend. I am no prophet; but if pure hands are alone to stone this poor sinner, I swear by the head of Gideon that we shall see all these paragons of virtue, all these pearls of chastity, all these angels of modesty, beginning with the seigneurs priests, and the seigneurs doctors in law, throw away their sandals and tuck up their robes that they may run the quicker. Oh! what was I saying?’ added Banaias, laughing still more loudly, like many others, ‘there they are, dispersing like a herd of swine pursued by a wolf.’
‘And swine they are!’ said another.
‘As to the wolf following them, ’tis their own conscience.’
And as Banaias said, at these words of Jesus, ‘Let him amongst you who is without sin throw the first stone at this woman,’ the doctors of the law and the priests, no doubt accused by their conscience, as well as those who at first would have stoned the adulterous woman, all in fact fearing, perhaps, the crowd that followed the young man of Nazareth, made their escape so swiftly and so quickly, that when the son of Mary rose (for he had continued to write on the sand), the crowd lately so menacing were fleeing toward the village. Jesus now saw none but the accused, still kneeling, still a supplicant, and weeping at his feet. Smiling sweetly, showing to her the space left around her by the dispersion of those who would have lately stoned her, Jesus said to her:
‘Woman, where, then, are thy accusers? Has no one accused thee?’
‘No, lord,’ she replied, weeping bitterly.
‘Neither will I condemn thee,’ said Jesus. ‘Go, and sin no more.’
And leaving the adulterous woman on her knees, and still under the shock of having been thus saved from death and pardoned, the son of Mary soon arrived, followed by his disciples and the crowd, to the foot of a mount, where already were assembled a good number of country people impatiently awaiting his coming, some having their provisions on donkeys or zebras, others in carts drawn by bullocks, others in wicker baskets, which they carried on their heads.
The shepherds who, at the passage of the Nazarene, watered their flocks at the fountain, also arrived; and when all this crowd, silent and attentive, was thus assembled at the foot of the mount, Jesus of Nazareth ascended the little hill, that he might be better heard by all.
The rising sun, shedding its lustrous beams on the figure of the son of Mary, attired in his white tunic and his blue mantle, made his celestial visage to appear resplendent, and casting its rays on his long chestnut hair, seemed to encircle it in a golden aureole. Then addressing these simple in heart, whom he loved equally with the little children, Jesus said to them, in his tender and sonorous voice:
‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs!
‘Blessed are those who are gentle, because they possess the earth!
‘Blessed are those who weep, for they are consoled!
‘Blessed are those who show mercy, for they will obtain mercy for themselves!
‘Blessed are those who are pure in heart, for they will see God!
‘Blessed are the peaceful, for they shall be called peaceful!
‘Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice’s sake, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs!
‘But woe to you, rich, for you would take away your consolation!
‘Woe to you who are satisfied, for you shall be hungry!
‘Woe to you who laugh now, for you shall weep hereafter!
‘Woe to you when men shall speak well of you, for their fathers spoke well of the false prophets!
‘Love your neighbor as yourself!
‘Beware how you make your gifts before men, to attract their notice!
‘When, therefore, thou dost give thy charity, sound not the trumpet before you, as do the hypocrites in the temples and in the streets, to be honored by men; for I tell you the truth, they have already had their reward.
‘Thus, I was seated the other day in the synagogue, opposite the poor box, observing in what manner the people threw in their money; many rich people dropped in a great deal; there came a poor woman, she placed simply in the box two small pieces, which made the quarter of a penny. Calling my disciples, I said to them: “Really this poor woman has given more than all those who dropped into the box, for all the others have given of their abundance; but this one has given of her indigence, all that she had, and all that remained to her to live upon.” When you bestow charity, let not your left hand know what your right hand does. The same when you pray, resemble not those hypocrites who affect to pray in the synagogues, and in the corner of public places, that they might be seen of men. For you, when you would pray, enter your own chamber, close the door, and pray to your father in secret. When you fast, do it not with a saddened air like the hypocrites, for they appear with a pale and haggard face, that men may know that they fast. You, when you fast, perfume your head that it may not appear to men that you fast, but simply to your father, who is always present in all that is most secret. Above all, do not act like the two men in the parable:
‘Two men went into the temple to pray, the one was a publican, the other a pharisee. The pharisee, standing up, thus prayed to himself: “My God, I thank thee for that I am not as other men, who are thieves, unjust, adulterers, who indeed are like the publican I see there. I fast twice a week, and I give the tenth of all I possess.”
‘The publican, on the contrary, keeping himself afar off, dared not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but struck his breast, saying:
“My God, have pity on me, who am a sinner!”
‘I declare to you this man returneth home justified, and not the other. For he who exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he who humbleth himself shall be exalted. Heap not up treasures on earth, for the worm and the rust shall consume them, and thieves shall break in and steal them; but make to yourselves treasures in heaven, for where your treasure is there also will be your heart! Do unto men as you would they should do unto you: this is the law and the prophets.
‘Love your enemies, do good to those that hate you.
‘If any one takes from you your mantle, let him also take your coat.
‘Give to all who ask of you.
‘Claim not your goods of him who takes them away.
‘Let him who has two garments give one to him who has none.
‘Let him who has enough to eat do the same.
‘For when the day of judgment comes, God will say to those who are on his left:
“Far from me, cursed! go into the fire eternal! for I was hungry and ye gave me not to eat! I was thirsty, and ye gave me not to drink! I was in want of lodging, and you did not lodge me! I was without garments, and you did not clothe me! I was sick and in prison, and you did not visit me!” And then the wicked will reply to the Almighty:
“Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty? or without garments? or without lodging? or in prison?”
But the Almighty will reply to them:
“I say unto you that as often as you have failed to render these services to one of the poorest among men, you have failed to render them to myself, your Lord God.”
To the great chagrin of the crowd, much affected by the divine words of the son of Mary, who could comprehend the poorest in mind, as the young Nazarene said, his discourse was interrupted in consequence of a violent tumult that arose. The cause was this; a troop of men on horseback, coming from the mountains, travelling rapidly towards Jerusalem, was obliged to stop before the vast assemblage grouped at the base of the mount where Christ was preaching. These cavaliers, in their impatience, brutally desired the crowd to disperse, and to make room for the Seigneur Chusa, the steward of Prince Herod’s household, and for the Seigneur Gremion, an agent of the Roman treasury.
On hearing these words Aurelia, wife of Gremion, turned pale and said to Jane:
‘Our husbands! already returned! they have turned back; they will find us absent from our homes; they will know that we have left them since yesterday; we are lost.’
> ‘Have we, then, anything to reproach ourselves with?’ replied Jane: ‘Have we not been listening to teachings, and assisting at examples which renders good hearts still better?’
‘Dear mistress,’ said Genevieve to Aurelia, ‘I think that the Seigneur Gremion has recognized you from his horse, for he is speaking quietly to the Seigneur Chusa, and is pointing his finger this way.’
‘Ah! I tremble!’ replied Aurelia, ‘what’s to be done? What will become of me? Oh! cursed be my curiosity!’
‘Blessed, on the contrary,’ said Jane to her; ‘for you carry away treasures in your heart. Let us go boldly and meet our husbands; ’tis the wicked who hide themselves and bow their heads. Come, Aurelia, come, and let us walk home with a firm front.’
At this moment, Magdalen the repentant, approached the two young women, and said to Jane, with tears in her eyes:
‘Adieu, you who tendered me a hand when I had fallen into contempt; your remembrance will be always present to Magdalen in her future solitude.’
‘Of what solitude do you speak?’ said Jane, surprised: ‘where are you going, then, Mary Magdalen?’
‘To the desert!’ replied the penitent, stretching her arms towards the summit of the arid mountains beyond which extend the desolate solitudes of the dead sea:
‘I go to the desert to weep for my sins, bearing in my heart a treasure of hope! Blessed be the son of Mary, to whom I am indebted for this divine treasure!’
The crowd, opening respectfully before this great repentant, she slowly retired towards the mountains. Scarcely had Magdalen disappeared, when Jane, leading her friend almost in spite of herself, advanced towards the cavaliers through the people, irritated at the coarse words of the escort.
