by Eugène Sue
‘Thus the young man of Nazareth says, in his figurative language, that he is come to bring fire on earth, and that his desire is that it may kindle! Oh, yes, I believe so; for the fire of which he speaks is the ardent love of humanity with which his heart is fired.’
Jane, in thus expressing herself, in a calm and vibrating voice, looked still more handsome; Aurelia, her new friend, contemplated her with as much surprise as admiration. The guests of the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, on the contrary, raised murmurs of astonishment and indignation, and Chusa, Jane’s husband, said to her harshly:
‘You are mad, and I am ashamed of your words. It is incredible that a woman who respects herself can dare, without dying of confusion, defend such abominable doctrines, preached in the market-place, or in ignoble taverns, in the midst of vagabonds, thieves and prostitutes, the usual body-guard of the Nazarene.’
“The young man, replying to those who reproached him with this wicked congregation, did he not say,” continued Jane in a voice still firm and sonorous: “It is not those who are well but those who are sick, who have need of the physician?’ meaning by this parable that it is the people whose life is wicked who have especial need of being enlightened, supported, guided, loved; yes, I repeat, loved and consoled, to return to good; for mercy and gentleness do more than violence and punishment; and this tender and pious task, Jesus imposes on himself every day!”
‘And for my part, I repeat to you,’ exclaimed Chusa in a rage: ‘that the Nazarene only thus flatters the detestable passions of the vile populace amidst which he passes his life, in order to make rebels of them, at a fitting opportunity, to declare himself their chief, and to deliver up all in Jerusalem and Judea to fire, sword, and pillage! since he has the audacity to say that he does not bring peace on earth, but the sword, but fire....’
These words of Herod’s steward were greatly approved of by the guests of Pontius Pilate, who seemed more and more astonished at the silence of the Roman Procurator; for the latter, frequently emptying his large cup, smiled more and more good-humoredly at each enormity with which the young Nazarene was reproached. Aurelia had attentively listened to the wife of Herod’s intendant so courageously defending the young preacher, so that she said to her quietly: ‘Dear Jane, you cannot tell how desirous I am of seeing this young Nazarene of whom they speak so much evil, and of whom you speak so much good; he must be an extraordinary man!’
‘Oh, yes; extraordinary for his beauty,’ replied Jane softly: ‘if you knew how gentle his voice is when speaking to the feeble, to the suffering, and to children, oh, especially to little children! He loves them to adoration; when he sees them his features assume a celestial expression.’
‘Jane,’ resumed Aurelia, smiling; ‘he is very handsome, then?’
‘Oh, yes, yes; handsome, handsome as an archangel!’
‘How anxious I am to see him, to hear him!’ continued Aurelia, in a manner more and more interested. ‘But alas! how is it to be done, if he has always such an assemblage round him? A woman cannot risk herself in the taverns in which he preaches, as they say?’
Jane remained thoughtful for a moment, she then resumed: ‘Who knows, dear Aurelia, perhaps we may find means to see and hear the young man of Nazareth.’
‘Oh! speak,’ exclaimed Aurelia, eagerly: ‘speak at once, dear Jane; what means?’
‘Silence, we are observed,’ replied Jane, ‘by and bye we will talk over it.’
In fact the Seigneur Chusa, very indignant at the obstinacy of his wife in defending the young Nazarene, occasionally threw upon her angry looks while conversing with Caiphus.
Pontius Pilate had once more emptied his large goblet, and with his cheeks inflamed, his eyes fixed and sparkling, and a complete stranger to all that was passing around him, he seemed to be enjoying an extreme inward beatitude. The Seigneur Baruch, after consulting in a low tone with Caiphus and the banker, said to the Roman: ‘Seigneur Pontius Pilate!’ But the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, smiling more and more to himself, made no reply; the doctor of law was obliged to touch him on the arm. The Procurator, now appearing to awake suddenly, said: ‘Excuse me, my seigneurs, I was thinking, I was thinking of ..., but what is it all?’
‘It is, Seigneur Pontius Pilate,’ replied Doctor Baruch, ‘that if, after all that my friends and myself have narrated to you of the abominable projects of this Nazarene, you do not proceed against him with the greatest rigour, you, the representative of the august Emperor Tiberius, the natural protector of Herod, our prince, it will happen that....’
‘Well! what will happen, my seigneurs?’
‘It will happen that before next Easter, Jerusalem, the whole of Judea, will be given up to pillage by the act of this Nazarene, whom the populace already calls the King of the Jews.’
Pontius Pilate replied, maintaining that tranquil and careless manner that characterized him: ‘Come, my seigneurs, don’t take bushes for forests, or molehills for mountains! Is it for me to remind you of your history? Is this boy of Nazareth the first who has bethought him of playing the part of a Messiah? Have you not had Judas the Galilean, who pretended that the Israelites were to acknowledge no master but God, and who endeavored to stir up the population against the power of us Romans? What happened? This Judas was put to death; and it shall be the same with this young Nazarene if he thinks of exciting rebellion.’
‘No doubt, seigneur,’ replied Caiphus, the high priest.
‘The Nazarene is not the first impostor who has proclaimed himself the Messiah which our holy scriptures have announced for so many ages. For fifty years past, not to speak of recent facts, Jonathan, and after him, Simon, the magician, surnamed the Great Virtue of God; then Barkokebah, the Son of the Star, and many other pretended Messiahs or Saviors, and regenerators of the country of Israel! But none of these cheats had the influence of this Nazarene, and especially his infernal audacity; they did not, like him, furiously attack the rich, the doctors of law, the priests, family, and religion; in fact, all that should be respected, under pain of seeing Israel fall into chaos.
‘Those other impostors did not address themselves specially and constantly, like the Nazarene, to the dregs of the populace, of which he disposes in a fearful manner; for indeed, only lately the Seigneur Baruch, weary of the public outrages with which the Nazarene pursued the Pharisees, that is, the most respectable persons of Jerusalem, who profess the pharisaical opinions, so honest, so moderate in all things, the Seigneur Baruch, I say, wished to imprison the Nazarene; but the attitude of the populace became so menacing that my noble friend Baruch dared not give the order to arrest this wicked man.
‘Thus, then, Seigneur Pontius Pilate, you have at your disposal a considerable armed force: if you do not come to our aid, who have at our disposition only a feeble militia, a portion of which is no less infected than the populace with the detestable doctrines of the Nazarene, we will not answer for the public peace; and a popular rising against your own troops is possible.’
‘Oh! as to that, my seigneur,’ replied Pontius Pilate, smiling, ‘you will find me the first prepared, helmet on head, cuirass on back, and sword in hand, if the Nazarene dare revolt the populace against my troops; as for the rest, by Jupiter, unravel your skein yourselves if ’tis in a mess, my seigneurs: these interior affairs concern you alone, you senators of the city. Arrest the young man, imprison him, crucify him if he deserves it, ’tis your right, make use of it; as for me, I represent here the emperor, my master; as long as his power is not attacked, I shall not budge.’
“And besides, Seigneur Procurator,” said Jane, “has not the young man of Nazareth said: ‘Render unto God that which is God’s, and unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar’s?’”
‘’Tis true, noble Jane,’ replied Pontius Pilate; ‘and there is a wide difference between that and a wish to stir up the people against the Roman.’
‘But do you not see, then, seigneur,’ exclaimed Doctor Baruch, ‘that this cheat acts in this way from hypocrisy, that he might not arouse your sus
picions, and that, the hour arrived, he will call the populace to arms?’
‘In that event, my seigneurs,’ replied Pontius Pilate, again emptying his cup, ‘the Nazarene will find me prepared to receive him at the head of my cohorts; but until then I have nothing to do with your broils.’
At this moment a Roman officer entered in a state of bewilderment, and said to Pontius Pilate: ‘Seigneur Procurator, strange news has just arrived here.’
‘What is it?’
‘A great popular emotion is caused by Jesus of Nazareth.’
‘Poor young man!’ said Aurelia, addressing Jane: ‘he is the sport of misfortune; every one is against him!’
‘Let us listen,’ said Jane anxiously: ‘let us listen!’
‘You see, Seigneur Pontius Pilate,’ exclaimed at the same time the high priest, the doctor, and the banker, ‘not a day passes on which this Nazarene does not disturb the public peace.’
‘Answer me,’ said the governor to the officer:— ‘what does it concern?’
“Some people arrived from Bethany pretend that three days ago, Jesus of Nazareth brought the dead to life: all the people in the town are in extraordinary commotion; bands of ragged fellows are at the present moment running about the streets of Jerusalem, with torches crying: ‘Glory to Jesus of Nazareth, who brings the dead to life!’”
‘The audacious knave!’ exclaimed Caiphus: ‘to try to imitate our holy prophets! to imitate Elias, who resuscitated the son of the widow: of Elisha, who resuscitated Joreb! Profanation, profanation!’
‘He is an impostor!’ exclaimed Jonas: ‘’tis impious, sacrilegious deception! Our holy scriptures announce that the Messiah shall bring the dead to life. The Nazarene would play his character to the end.’
‘They go so far as to give the name of the dead man resuscitated,’ observed the officer: ‘he is named Lazarus!’
‘I demand from the Seigneur Pontius Pilate,’ exclaimed Caiphus, ‘that they discover and arrest this Lazarus on the instant!’
‘There must be an example,’ exclaimed the doctor of law: ‘this Lazarus must be hung! this will teach him to come to life!’
‘Do you hear them? they will put this poor man to death,’ said Aurelia, addressing Jane, and shrugging her shoulders: ‘to lose one’s life, because we have regained it despite ourself! for they will not accuse him, I suppose, of soliciting to be resuscitated: decidedly they are mad.’
‘Alas! dear Aurelia,’ said Chusa’s wife mournfully, ‘there are wicked madmen.’
‘I repeat,’ exclaimed Doctor Baruch, ‘that this Lazarus must be hung.’
‘Stuff! my seigneurs: why, look you, here is an honest corpse sleeping tranquilly in its sepulchre, not thinking of any harm; he is brought to life; he cannot help it, and you would have me hang him for this?’
‘Yes, seigneur,’ exclaimed Caiphus; ‘we must extirpate the disease at the root; for if this Nazarene now takes to resuscitating the dead....’
‘It is impossible to foresee where it will end,’ cried Doctor Baruch: ‘I therefore formally demand of the Seigneur Pontius Pilate, that this audacious Lazarus be put to death!’
‘But, seigneur,’ said Aurelia, ‘suppose you hang him, and the young Nazarene resuscitates him again?’
‘We will hang him again! Dame Aurelia!’ exclaimed Jonas, the banker: ‘We will hang him again! By Joshua! it would be a joke to yield to these vagabonds!’
‘My seigneurs!’ said Pontius Pilate: ‘you have your militia, arrest and hang this Lazarus, if you like; but you will be more unmerciful than we heathens, whether Greeks or Romans, who, like you, have had our resuscitated. But, by Jupiter! we do not hang them; for I have heard it said that quite recently Apollonius of Tyana resuscitated a young girl, whose funeral he met, followed by her betrothed in great trouble. Apollonius spoke a few magic words, the young girl issued from her coffin, more fresh, more charming than ever. The marriage took place, and the pair lived very happy.’
‘Would you then have the poor girl die a second time, my seigneurs?’ inquired Aurelia.
‘Yes, certainly,’ replied Caiphus, ‘if she was the accomplice of an impostor; and since the seigneur Procurator leaves us abandoned to our own forces, I and my worthy friend Baruch will quit you, that we may give instant orders relative to the arrest of this Lazarus.’
‘Do so, my seigneurs,’ replied Pontius Pilate, rising, ‘you are senators of your city.’
‘Seigneur Gremion,’ said Chusa, the steward of Herod’s household, ‘I must depart the day after to-morrow for Bethlehem: if you would like that we should travel in company, I will anticipate my departure by a day, and will start to-morrow morning, we shall return in two or three days; I shall take advantage of your escort, for in these troubled times it is right to be well accompanied.’
‘I accept your offer, Seigneur Chusa,’ replied the treasury-receiver; ‘I shall be delighted to journey with some one who, like yourself, knows the country.’
‘Dear Aurelia,’ said Jane to her friend softly, ‘you wish to see the young man of Nazareth?’
‘Oh! more than ever, dear Jane; all that I hear redoubles my curiosity.’
‘Come to my house to-morrow, after the departure of my husband,’ resumed Jane in a low tone, ‘and perhaps we may find means of satisfying you.’
‘But how?’
‘I will tell you, dear Aurelia.’
‘To-morrow then, dear Jane.’
And the two young women quitted, in company with their husbands and me, the slave Genevieve, the house of Pontius Pilate.
CHAPTER II.
THE TAVERN OF the Wild Ass was the usual resort of the conductors of camels, of the men who let out donkeys, of porters, pedlars, vendors of water melons, pomegranates, of fresh dates, when in season, and later of preserved olives and dry dates. In this tavern were also to be found men of no profession, prostitutes of the lowest class, beggars, vagabonds, and those worthy fellows whose armed protection was purchased by travellers when they repaired from one town to another, in order to be defended against the highwayman by this escort often very much suspected. There might also be seen those Roman slaves brought by their masters into the country of the Hebrews.
This tavern had a bad reputation; disputes and quarrels were frequent there, and at the approach of night none were seen to venture in the neighborhood of the Lamb’s-gate, not far from which this den was situated, but men of suspicious figure or women of a low class; then, night having completely set in, from this dreaded place issued cries, bursts of laughter, bacchanalian songs; frequently painful groans succeeded to the disputes; from time to time some men of the Jerusalem militia entered the tavern under pretence of establishing peace and quietness, and left it, either more drunk and disorderly than the drinkers, or driven out with sticks and stones.
On the day following that on which the supper at Pontius Pilate’s had taken place, towards the evening about dusk, two young men, plainly dressed in white tunics and turbans of blue cloth, were walking through a narrow winding street, at the end of which was perceived the door of the dreaded tavern; they conversed as they advanced, and frequently turned their heads towards one of the extremities of the street, as if they expected the appearance of some one.
‘Genevieve,’ said one to his companion stopping (these two pretended young men were Aurelia and her slave, disguised under masculine garments), ‘Genevieve, my new friend Jane is late in coming, this alarms me; and besides, if I must confess it, I am afraid of committing some folly.’
‘In that case, my dear mistress, let us return home.’
‘I have a great mind to; but then shall I ever meet with such an opportunity again?’
‘It is true that the absence of the Seigneur Gremion, your husband, who departed this morning with the Seigneur Chusa, steward of Herod the prince, leaves you completely free, and that perhaps for some time you may not enjoy quite so much liberty.’
‘Confess, Genevieve, that you are still more curious than I am to see this extr
aordinary man, this young Nazarene?’
‘Were it so, my dear mistress, there would be nothing astonishing in my desire; I am a slave, and the Nazarene says that there ought to be no longer slaves.’
‘I render your slavery very hard, then, Genevieve?’
‘No, oh! no! But sincerely, do you know many mistresses who resemble you?’
‘It is not for me to reply to that, flatterer’ —
‘It is for me to say so. If by chance we meet with one good mistress like you, there are a hundred who, for a word, or the slightest negligence, mutilate their slaves with the lash, or torture them with a cruel joy. Is this true?’
‘I do not deny it.’
‘You render my servitude as mild as possible, my dear mistress; but still I do not belong to myself. I have been obliged to separate from my poor Fergan, my husband, who wept so on quitting me. What assures me that on your return I shall find him at Marseilles, that he has not been sold and carried I know not where? What assures me that the Seigneur Gremion will not sell me, or separate me from you?’
‘I have promised you that you shall not quit me.’
‘But if your husband wishes to sell me, you could not prevent him.’
‘Alas! no.’
‘And a hundred years ago, the fathers and mothers of us Gauls were free; however Fergan’s ancestors were the most valiant chiefs of their tribe!’
‘Oh!’ said Aurelia, smiling, ‘the daughters of a Cæsar would not be more proud of having an emperor as a father than you are, of what you call the father of your husband.’
‘Pride is not permitted to slaves,’ replied Genevieve mournfully; ‘all that I regret, is our liberty. What have we done, then, to lose it? Ah! if the prayers of this young man of Nazareth are answered! if there are to be no more slaves!’