by Eugène Sue
Caiphus replied with a pious air:
‘My seigneurs, we cannot enter the house of a heathen: this stain would prevent our eating the passover to-day.’
‘No!’ added Doctor Baruch, ‘we cannot commit this abominable impiety.’
‘Only hear them!’ said to the crowd one of the emissaries, with an accent of admiration.
‘Do you hear the holy men? What respect they profess for the commandment of our holy religion! Ah! these are not like that impious Nazarene, who rails and blasphemes at the most sacred things, when he dares to declare that we need not observe the Sabbath!’
‘Oh! the infamous hypocrites!’ said Genevieve to herself: ‘how well Jesus knew them; how much reason he had to unmask them. They now hesitate to enter the house of a heathen, for fear of soiling their sandals; but they do not fear to soil their soul by demanding from this heathen to shed the blood of the righteous, one of their compatriots. Ah! poor youth of Nazareth! they will make you pay with your life for the courage you have shown in attacking these rich swindlers.’
The officer of the militia having entered the palace of Pontius Pilate, whilst the escort remained outside guarding the prisoner, Genevieve mounted behind a cart stopped by the crowd, and endeavored to keep in sight the young man of Nazareth. She saw him standing in the midst of the soldiers, his long chestnut hair falling over his shoulders, his looks still calm and gentle, and a smile of resignation on his lips. He contemplated the tumultuous and threatening crowd with a sort of painful commiseration, as if he had pitied these men for their blindness and iniquity.
Insults were offered him on all sides. The soldiers themselves treated him with so much brutality that the blue mantle he wore over his white tunic was already almost torn from his back. Jesus, to so many outrages and ill treatment, opposed an unalterable placidity, and on his pale and handsome features Genevieve did not see the least impatience or the least anger betray itself. Suddenly these words were heard circulating through the crowd:
‘Ah! here he comes, the Seigneur Pontius Pilate!’
‘He will at length pronounce sentence of death against this cursed Nazarene.’
‘Luckily ’tis not far from hence to Golgotha, where they execute criminals; we can go and see him crucified!’
In fact, Genevieve soon saw the Governor, Pontius Pilate, appear at the door of his house; no doubt he had been just aroused from sleep, for he was enveloped in a long morning robe; his hair and beard were in disorder; his eyes, red and swollen, appeared dazzled at the rays of the rising sun; he could scarcely conceal several yawns, and seemed greatly annoyed at having been awakened so early, having, perhaps, as usual prolonged his supper until daybreak. So, addressing Doctor Baruch in a tone of harshness and ill-humor, like a person anxious to abridge an interview that was unpleasant, said to him:
‘What is the crime of which you accuse this young man?’
‘If he were not a malefactor, we should not have brought him to you.’
Pontius Pilate, annoyed at the short reply of Doctor Baruch, continued impatiently, and stifling another yawn:
‘Well, since you say he has sinned against the law, take him; judge him according to your law.’
And the governor turned his back upon the Doctor, shrugging his shoulders, and re-entered his house.
For a moment Genevieve thought the young man saved, but the reply of Pontius Pilate produced much indignation amongst the crowd.
‘Such are the Romans, then,’ said some; ‘they only seek to keep up agitation in our poor country, that they might rule it more easily.’
‘This Pontius Pilate evidently appears to protect this cursed Nazarene!’
‘As for me, I am certain the Nazarene is a secret agent of the Romans,’ added one of the emissaries: ‘they make use of this seditious vagabond for their dark projects.’
‘There is no doubt of it,’ added the other emissary; ‘the Nazarene has sold himself to the Romans.’
At this last outrage, which seemed painful to Jesus, Genevieve saw him again lift up his eyes to heaven in a heart-rending manner, whilst the crowd repeated:
‘Yes, yes, he is a traitor.’
‘He is an agent of the Romans!’
‘To death with the traitor! to death!’
Doctor Baruch was unwilling to lose his prey; he and several of the high priests, seeing Pontius Pilate entering his house, ran after him, and having supplicated him to return, they brought him outside, to the great applause of the crowd. Pontius Pilate appeared to continue, almost in spite of himself, the interrogatory; he said with impatience to Doctor Baruch, pointing to Jesus:
‘Of what do you accuse this man?’
The doctor of law replied, in a loud voice:
‘This man excites the people to revolt by the doctrines he teaches throughout Judea, from Galilee, where he commenced, unto here.’
At this accusation Genevieve heard one of the emissaries say quietly to his companion:
‘Doctor Baruch is a cunning fox; by this accusation of sedition, he will force the governor to condemn the Nazarene.’
Pontius Pilate, having signed to Jesus to draw near him, they exchanged a few words between themselves; at each reply of the young man of Nazareth, still calm and dignified, Pontius Pilate seemed more and more convinced of his innocence; he resumed in a loud voice, addressing the high priests and doctors of the law:
‘You have presented this man to me as exciting the people to revolt; nevertheless, having questioned him in your presence, I do not find him guilty of any of the crimes of which you accuse him. I do not judge him deserving of death: I shall therefore discharge him after he has been chastised.’
And Pontius Pilate, stifling a yawn, made a sign to one of his servants, who hastily departed. The crowd, not satisfied with the sentence of Pontius Pilate, at first murmured, then complained aloud:
‘It was not to have the Nazarene chastised that we brought him here,’ said some; ‘but that he should be condemned to death!’
‘Yes, yes!’ exclaimed several voices; ‘death! death!’
Pontius Pilate replied not to these murmurs and cries but by shrugging his shoulders and re-entering his house.
‘If the governor is convinced of the innocence of the young man,’ said Genevieve to herself, ‘why does he have him chastised? ’Tis both cowardly and cruel. He hopes, perhaps, to calm, by this concession, the rage of the enemies of Jesus. Alas! he deceives himself; he will only appease them by the death of this just man!’
Scarcely had Pontius Pilate given orders for Jesus to be chastised, than the soldiers seized him, tore off the last remnants of his mantle, stripped him of his tunic of linen, and his tunic of wool, which they turned down over his leather belt, and thus laid bare the upper portion of his body; they then bound him to one of the pillars that adorned the entrance door of the house of the Roman Governor. Jesus opposed no resistance, offered no complaint, turned his celestial face towards the crowd, and regarded it sorrowfully, but without appearing to hear the hootings and insults showered upon him. They had sent for the executioner of the city to flog him with rods, so, whilst awaiting the coming of the executioner of the law, the vociferations continued, still excited by the emissaries of the pharisees.
‘Pontius Pilate hopes to satisfy us by the chastisement of this vagabond; but he is deceived,’ said some.
‘The culpable indulgence of the Roman governor,’ added one of the emissaries, ‘only proves too well that there is a secret understanding between him and the Nazarene.’
‘Eh! my friends, of what do you complain?’ inquired another: ‘Pontius Pilate gives us more than we ask of him; we only wanted the death of the Nazarene, and he will be chastised before he is put to death. Glory to the generous Pontius Pilate.’
‘Yes, yes! for he must certainly condemn him; we will force him to do it.’
‘Ah! here’s the executioner!’ cried several voices: ‘here’s the executioner and his assistant.’
Genevieve recognized the s
ame two men, who, three days before, had flogged her with a whip at the house of her master; she could not restrain her tears at the thought that this youth, who was all love and tenderness, was about to suffer an ignominous punishment reserved for slaves. The two executioners carried under their arm a package of hazel twigs, long, flexible, and as thick as a thumb. Each of the executioners took one, and on a sign from Caiphus, the blows began to fall violently and rapidly on the shoulders of the young man of Nazareth. When one twig broke, the executioners took another. At first Genevieve turned away her eyes from this cruel spectacle; but she was forced to hear the savage jests of the crowd, which, to the son of Mary, must have been a more horrible torture than the punishment itself. ‘You who said, “Love one another,” you cursed Nazarene!’ cried one; ‘see now how you are loved!’
‘You who said, “Share your bread and your cloak with him who has neither bread nor cloak,” the worthy executioners follow their precepts; they share paternally their rods to break them across your back.’
‘You who said, “That it was more easy for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven,” don’t you think it will be easier for you to pass through the eye of a needle than to escape the rod with which they warm your back?’
‘You who glorified vagabonds, thieves, prostitutes, and such like game; no doubt you loved the wretches, because you knew you should one day be flogged like them, great prophet!’
Genevieve, despite her repugnance to see the punishment of Jesus, not hearing him utter a cry of complaint, feared that he had swooned from the pain, and looked at him with eyes full of anguish! Alas! to her it was a horrible spectacle.
The back of the young man was one large bleeding wound, interrupted simply by some blue and swollen furrows; at these places only the skin had not been broken. Jesus turned his face to heaven, and closed his eyes, to escape, no doubt, the sight of this implacable crowd. His face, livid and bathed in sweat, betrayed a horrible suffering at each fresh stroke cutting into his living flesh. And yet, at times, he still attempted to smile with angelic resignation. The high priest, the doctors of the law, the senators, and all the wicked pharisees, followed with a triumphant and greedy regard the execution of the punishment.
Amongst the most rancorous in feasting on this torture, Genevieve remarked Doctor Baruch, Caiphus, and Jonas, the banker.
The executioners began to tire of flogging; they had broken on the back of Jesus, nearly all their rods; they questioned, by a look, Doctor Baruch, as if to ask him if it were not time to put an end to the torture; but the doctor of law exclaimed: ‘No, no; use up, even to the very last of your rods.’
The order of the pharisee was obeyed; the last rods were broken on the shoulders of the young Nazarene, and splashed with blood the faces of the executioners; it was no longer the skin they flagellated, but a bloody wound. The martyrdom now became so atrocious that Jesus, despite his courage, gave way, and dropped his head on his left shoulder; his knees trembled, and he would have fallen to the ground, but for the cords that bound him to the pillar by the middle of his body. Pontius Pilate, after having ordered this punishment, had re-entered his own house; he now again came out, and signed to the executioners to release the condemned.
They unbound and supported him; one of them threw over his shoulders his woollen tunic. The contact of this rough cloth on the quivering flesh caused a new and so cruel an agony, that Jesus trembled in every limb. The very excess of pain brought him to himself; he raised his head, endeavored to stand so firm on his legs as to do without the assistance of his executioners, opened his eyes, and threw on the multitude a look of tenderness.
Pontius Pilate, thinking he had satisfied the hatred of the pharisees, said to the Crowd, after having had Jesus unbound:
‘There is the man;’ and he signed to his officers to enter his house; he was preparing to follow them, when Caiphus, the high priest, after consulting in a low voice with Doctor Baruch, and Jonas the banker, exclaimed, stopping the governor by taking hold of his robe:
‘Seigneur Pilate, if you deliver up Jesus you are not a friend of the Emperor; for the Nazarene calls himself king, declares himself against the Emperor.’
‘Pontius Pilate will fear passing for a traitor with his master, the Emperor Tiberius,’ said to his companions one of the emissaries placed behind Genevieve.
‘He will be compelled to give up the Nazarene.’
Then the wicked man cried out, in a very loud voice:
‘Death to the Nazarene! the enemy of the Emperor Tiberius, the protector of Judea!’
‘Yes, yes!’ exclaimed several, ‘the Nazarene called himself King of the Jews!’
‘He would overthrow the dominion of the Emperor Tiberius!’
‘He would declare himself king, by exciting the populace against the Romans, our friends and allies.’
‘Reply to that, Pontius Pilate!’ cried, from the middle of the crowd, one of the two emissaries.
‘How is it that we, Jews, are more devoted than you to the power of the Emperor Tiberius, your master? How is it that ’tis we, Jews, who demand the death of the seditious who would destroy the Roman authority; and that ’tis you, governor for Tiberius, who would pardon this rebel?’
This apostrophe appeared the more to trouble Pontius Pilate, as from all sides they cried:
‘Yes, yes, it would be to betray the Emperor to deliver up the Nazarene!’
‘Or prove, perhaps, that they have been accomplices!’
Pontius Pilate, despite the desire he had, perhaps, to save the young man, appeared more and more annoyed at these reproaches coming from the crowd, reproaches which placed in doubt his fidelity to the Emperor Tiberius. He went towards the pharisees, and conversed with them in an undertone, whilst the soldiers guarded Jesus, bound, in the midst of them. Then Caiphus, the high priest, said aloud, addressing Pilate, that he might be heard by the crowd, and pointing to Jesus:
‘We have found that this man perverts our nation; that he prevents tribute being paid to Cæsar, and that he calls himself King of the Jews, as being the son of God.’
Then Pontius Pilate, turning towards the young man of Nazareth, said to him,
‘Are you King of the Jews?’
‘Do you say this of yourself?’ inquired Jesus, in a voice weakened by suffering; ‘or do you ask it of me because others have said it to you before me?’
‘The high priests and senators have delivered you up to me,’ said Pilate. ‘What have you done? Do you pretend to be King of the Jews?’
Jesus gently shook his head, and said:
‘My kingdom is not of this world; if my kingdom had been of this world, my friends would have combated to prevent my being delivered to you; but I repeat, my kingdom is not of this world.’
Pontius Pilate again turned to the pharisees, as if to take them as witnesses of Jesus’ reply, which would absolve him, since he proclaimed that his kingdom was not of this world.
‘His kingdom,’ thought Genevieve, ’is no doubt, in unknown worlds, where, according to our druidical faith, we shall rejoin those we have loved here. How will they dare condemn Jesus as a rebel against the Emperor? He who has so often repeated:
“Render unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar’s, and unto God that which is God’s!”
But, alas! Genevieve forgot that the hatred of the pharisees was implacable.
The Seigneurs Baruch, Jonas, and Caiphus, having again spoken in an under tone with Pilate, the latter said to Jesus:
‘Are you, yes or no, the son of God?’
‘Yes,’ replied Jesus, in his mild but firm voice; ‘yes, I am.’
At these words, the priests, doctors and senators uttered exclamations which were repeated by the crowd.
‘He has blasphemed! he has said he is the son of God!’
‘And he who says he is the son of God also calls himself King of the Jews!’
‘He is an enemy of the Emperor!’
‘To death; to dea
th with the Nazarene; crucify him!’
Pontius Pilate, a strange compound of cowardly weakness and equity, wishing no doubt to make a last effort to save Jesus, whom he did not think guilty, said to the crowd that it was customary on this feast day to set at liberty a criminal, and that the people had to choose for this act of clemency between a prisoner named Barabbas and Jesus, who had already been beaten with rods, he then added:
‘Which of the two would you that I should release to you, Jesus or Barabbas?’
Genevieve saw the emissaries of the pharisees run from group to group, saying:
‘Demand the release of Barabbas, let them give up Barabbas.’
And presently the crowd cried from all parts:
‘Deliver Barabbas! and guard Jesus!’
‘But,’ said Pontius Pilate, ‘what shall I do with Jesus?’
‘Crucify him!’ replied a thousand voices.
‘Crucify him!’
‘But,’ again inquired Pilate, ‘what harm has he done?’
‘Crucify him!’ replied the crowd, more furious than ever.
‘Crucify him!’
‘Death to the Nazarene!’
Pontius Pilate, not having the courage to defend Jesus, whom he found innocent, made a sign to one of his servants, the latter entered the governor’s house, whilst the crowd shouted with increased fury:
‘Crucify the Nazarene! crucify him!’
Jesus, still calm, mournful and pensive, seemed a perfect stranger to what was passing around him.
‘No doubt,’ said Genevieve to herself, ‘his thoughts are already in that mysterious world where we are born and live again after quitting this one.’
The servant of Pontius Pilate returned, carrying a silver jug in one hand, and a basin in the other; a second servant took the basin whilst the first poured the water into it. Pontius Pilate dipped his hands in the water, saying in a loud voice: ‘I am innocent of the death of this righteous man; ’tis for you to look to it. As for me, I wash my hands of it.’
‘Let the blood of the Nazarene be upon us and our children.’
‘Take Jesus then, and crucify him yourselves,’ replied Pontius.
