I.N.R.I Part 32

The cry was taken up by many voices out in the streets. The priests immediately put things in shape for the sentence to be p.r.o.nounced that night, and, if possible, carried into effect before the festival, without making a stir.

If the matter had rested with Herod, King of the Jews, he would have rid himself of his rival from Nazareth with a snap of his lingers; but it was the Roman governor with whom they had to deal. So Pontius Pilate also was awakened in the night. He was a Roman, and had been appointed by the Emperor to hold Judaea in spite of Herod, whose Jewish kingdom had become as nothing. Pilate often declared that this office of ruling the Jewish people for the Emperor had been his evil star. He would rather have remained in cultured Rome, whose G.o.ds were much more amiable than the perverse Jehovah, about whom all kinds of sects disputed. And then came this Nazarene. When Pilate learnt the reason why he was disturbed from his sleep he cursed. "This stupid business again about the Nazarene who, accompanied by a few beggars, rode into Jerusalem on an a.s.s, and said He was the Messiah. The people laughed at Him. And that's to be made a political case! They should expel Him from the Temple and let people sleep."

But the crowd shouted in front of his windows: "He is a blasphemer! A deceiver and a traitor! An anarchist! He must be tried!" Pilate did not know what to do. Then his wife came, and entreated him not to do anything to Jesus of Nazareth. She had had a horrible dream about Him.

She had seen Him standing in a white garment that shone like the moon.

Then he had descended into a deep abyss where the souls of the condemned were wailing, had raised them up and led them on high. Then dreadful angels with big black wings had seized the judges, and thrown them into the abyss. Pilate had been among them, and his cry of pain still rang in her ears.

"Don't make my head more confused than it is already with your talking," he commanded. The noise in the street became more threatening every moment.

Jesus was exhausted, and, surrounded by guards, sat down on a stone in the courtyard of Pilate's house. The crowd came up, mocked Him and insulted Him. They draped Him in the torn red cloak of a Bedouin for royal purple, they plucked thorns from a hedge in the neighbouring garden, wove them into a crown, and set it on His head. They broke off a dry reed and put it into His hand as a sceptre. They anointed His cheek with spittle. And then they bowed down to the ground before Him, and sang in a shrill voice: "Hail to Thee, O anointed Messiah-King!"

and put out their tongues at Him.

Jesus sat there, calm and unmoved. He looked at His tormentors with sad eyes, not in anger, but in pity.

His disciples, terrified to death, had now come up, but remained outside the walls. Peter was furious over the infamous betrayal that had taken place, and could not understand what had possessed Judas. In sore distress he stood in the farthest courtyard where it was dark.

Then a girl tripped up to him on her way to the well for water.

"Here's another!" she shouted. "Why are you standing here? Go and do homage to your King."

Peter turned in the direction of the gate.

"You're one of those Galileans, too," she continued.

"What have I to do with Galilee?" he said.

A gatekeeper interposed: "Of course he is a Galilean. You can see that by his dress. He belongs to the Nazarene."

"I do not know Him," said Peter, and tried to hurry off. The gatekeeper stopped him with the shaft of his spear. "Halt there, you Jew! Your King is seated yonder on His throne. Do homage to Him before He flies into the clouds."

"Let me alone; I do not know the man," exclaimed Peter, and hastened away. As he went out of the gate, a c.o.c.k crowed just over his head.

Peter started. Did He not speak of a c.o.c.k at supper? "And another will deny me this night just before c.o.c.k-crow." In a flash the old disciple saw what he had done. From terror that he, too, would be seized, he had lied about his Master, about Him who had been everything to him--everything--everything. Now in His need they had left Him alone, had not even had the courage to acknowledge themselves His supporters. "Oh, Simon!" he said to himself, "you should have stayed by your lake instead of playing at being the chosen of G.o.d. He gave me His Kingdom of Heaven and this is how I requite Him!" His life was now so broken that he crept out into the desert. There he threw himself on a stone, wrung his hands, and abandoned himself to weeping.

Jesus was at last brought into the hall before the Governor. When Pilate saw Him in that unheard-of disguise, his temper began to rise.

He was not to be waked from His sleep for a joke. Well, the Jews had mocked at their Messiah-King, and He would mock at them through Him.

He heard the accusation but found nothing in it. "What?" he said to the High Priests and their supporters, "I'm to condemn your King? Why, what are you thinking of?" Instead of terrifying the accused with his judicial dignity, he desired to enter into conversation with Him.

Although the Nazarene stood there in such wretched plight, He must have something in Him to have roused the ma.s.ses as He did. He wanted to make His acquaintance. In a friendly manner he put mocking questions to Him. Did he really know anything special of G.o.d? Would He not tell him too, for even heathens were sometimes curious about the Kingdom of Heaven? How should a man set about loving a G.o.d whom no one had ever seen? Or which among the G.o.ds was the true one? And for the life of him he would like to know what truth really was.

Jesus said not a word.

"You do not seem to lack the virtue of pride," continued Pilate, "and that's in your favour. You know, of course, in whose presence you stand, in the presence of one who has the power, to put you to death, or to set you free."

Jesus was still silent.

The crowd which already filled the large courtyard became more and more noisy and unmanageable. Rabbis slipped through it in order to fan the fire, and on all sides sentence of death was eagerly demanded. Pilate shrugged his shoulders. He did not understand the people. But he could not condemn an innocent man to death. He would let the Nazarene just as He was step out on to the balcony. He himself took a torch from a slave's hand to light up the pitiful figure. "Look," he called down to the crowd, "look at the poor fellow!"

"To the gallows with him! To the cross with him!" shouted the crowd.

"If," said Pilate, preserving his ironical tone, "if you do not want to miss your Pa.s.sover spectacle, go out there; no fear of criminals not being crucified to-day. What do you say to Barabbas, the desert king?

O ye men of Jerusalem, be satisfied with one king."

"We want to see this Jesus crucified," raged the people.

"But why, by Jupiter? I cannot see that He is guilty of anything."

One of the High Priests came up to him.

"If you set free this blasphemer, this demagogue, who, so He says, intends to redeem the Jewish nation from bondage, who has the devil's eloquence with which to influence the ma.s.ses, if you let this man go about among the people again, then you are your Emperor's bitterest enemy. Then we shall ask for a governor who is as true to the Emperor as we are!"

"You would be more imperial than Pontius Pilate!" He threw out that sentence to them, measuring their figures with contempt. Whenever Rome touched any of their chartered rights they seethed with anger; but whenever they needed power to accomplish some purpose hostile to the people, they cringed to Rome. They recognised no people and no Emperor; their Temple-law was all in all to them. And they dared to advise the Governor to be imperial! But the crowd murmured angrily.

The storm of pa.s.sion was increasing in the courtyard. A thousand voices threatening, shouting shrilly, demanded the Nazarene's death.

At that moment his wife sent to Pilate and reminded him of her dream.

He was inclined to set the accused free at once. Then in the dim light of the torches and the dawning day a dark ma.s.s appeared above the heads of the people. It was one of those criminals' stakes with the cross-beam like those erected out at Golgotha, only more ma.s.sive and imposing. They had dragged the cross here, and when it became visible to the crowd they broke out in heightened fury: "Crucify Him! Crucify Him! Jesus or Pilate!"

"Jesus--or Pilate?" Was that what they shouted?

"Jesus or Pilate?" was re-echoed from courtyard to courtyard, from street to street.

"Do you hear, Governor?" one of the High Priests asked him. "There is nothing else to be done! You see, the people haven't been asleep to-night. They are mad!" So saying, he seized the staff of justice, and offered it to Pilate. He had turned pale at the sight of the raging mob. He signed with his hand that he wished to speak. The tumult subsided sufficiently for his words to be heard, and he shouted hoa.r.s.ely:

"I cannot find that this man has committed any crime. But you wish to crucify Him. So be it, but His death is on your consciences!"

Purposely following the Jewish custom, he washed his hands in a bowl, so that those who could not hear him might see; then holding them up, all dripping wet, before the people, he exclaimed: "My hands are clean from His blood. I accept no responsibility." He seized the staff, broke it in two with his hands, and threw the pieces at Jesus's feet.

Then there arose a storm of jubilation; "Hail to thee, Pilate! Hail to the Governor of the great Emperor! Hail to the great Governor of the Emperor!"

The High Priests humbly bowed before him, and the guards seized the condemned man.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

The big cross, carried by insolent youths, swung to and fro above the heads of the people. Every one tried to get out of the way of the sinister thing; if a man, joking, thrust his neighbour towards it, he pushed quickly back into the crowd with a shriek. And the unceasing cry went on: "Hail to Pontius Pilate! To the cross with the Nazarene!"

Jesus was led from the hall into the courtyard, where His guards had to protect Him from the fury of the mob. They led Him up to the cross.

A sentry appeared, and, violently swinging his arm, shouted; "No execution can take place here! Away with Him! No execution can be permitted here!"

"To Golgotha!"

When the youths found that they would have to take the cross back to where they had fetched it, they let it fall to the ground, so that the wood made a groaning noise, and then ran off.

"Let Him carry His own cross!" shouted several voices. The plan commended itself to the guards; they unbound His hands, and placed the cross on His shoulder. He staggered under the load. They beat Him with cords like a beast of burden; He tottered along with trembling steps, carrying the stake on His right shoulder, so that one arm of the cross fell against His breast, held fast there by His hands. The long stake was dragged along the ground. They had tied a cord round His waist by which they led Him. They pulled Him along so violently that He stumbled, and often fell. The crowd which followed tried to do everything they could to hurt Him. So Jesus tottered along, bowed under the heavy weight of the wood. His gown covered with street mud, His head pierced by the thorns so that drops of blood trickled down His unkempt hair and over His agonised face. Never before was so wretched a figure dragged to the place of execution, never before was a poor malefactor so terribly ill-treated on his way to death. And never before had such dignity and gentleness been seen in the countenance of a condemned man as in that of this man. Some women who had got up early out of curiosity to see the procession stood crowded together at the street corner. But when they saw it their mood changed, and they broke out into loud lamentation, over the unheard-of horror. Jesus raised His trembling hand towards them, as if He wished to warn them: "While your husbands murder Me, you are melted to tears. Do not lament for Me, lament for yourselves and for your children, who will have to suffer for the sins of their fathers!" One of the women, heedless of the raging mob, tore the white kerchief from her head, and bent down to Him who was carrying the cross in order to wipe the blood and perspiration from His face. When she got back to her house and was about to wash the cloth, she saw on it--the face of the Prophet. And it seemed as if kindness and grat.i.tude for her service of love looked out from its features at her. The women all came running up to see the miracle, and to haggle to get the cloth that bore such a picture for themselves. But its possessor locked it up in her room.

When Jesus fell beneath the cross for the third time, He was unable to get up again. The guards tugged and pulled Him; the Roman soldiers who accompanied them were too proud to carry the cross for this wretched Jew. So the crowd was invited to chose someone to lift up Jesus and drag the cross along. The only answer was scornful laughter. A hard-featured cobbler rushed out of a neighbouring house, and, almost foaming at the mouth with rage, demanded that the creature should be removed from before his door. "Customers will be frightened away," he cried.

"Let Him rest here for a moment," said one of the soldiers, pointing to the fallen man, whose breast heaved in short, violent spasms.

Then the cobbler swung a leathern strap and struck the exhausted man.