My Dear Father:—In this letter, which I write in
the solitude of my chamber, while all in the house
have sought repose, will be continued my account of the
trial, if such it can be called, of Jesus. I have already
shown you how he was first taken to Annas, and thence
dragged before Caiaphas, who, unable to execute upon him
the sentence of death, sent him to the Procurator Pilate,
charged with conspiracy; and he, shrinking from condemning
a man whom he knew to be innocent of any crime,
and yet fearing to release him, lest he should be impeached
by the Jews to Cæsar, sought to shift the responsibility
upon Herod, in whose tetrarchy lay Nazareth, where Jesus
ordinarily dwelt.

John, the faithful, and yet trusting disciple whom Jesus
loved, still kept near his captive Master, and sought to
cheer him by affectionate looks, and, where he could do it

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with safety, by kind acts. More than once he was rudely
thrust aside by the fiercer Jews, and once several men
seized upon him, and would have done him violence, as a
follower of the Prophet, if Caiaphas, to whom John is remotely
related, and who knows him well, had not interposed.
Indeed, it was through this protecting influence of
the High-Priest, that the disciple was allowed to remain
near Jesus. And while John was thus doing all that he
could to soften the asperity of his friend's treatment, we at
home were exerting ourselves to soothe the maternal solicitude
of Mary of Nazareth, his noble and heart-broken
mother, whom with difficulty we could restrain from rushing
to the palace, and casting herself at the feet of the Procurator,
to implore him to interpose to save her son—her
only son—from the hands of his own countrymen! Thus
a twofold scene of anguish, at the palace and in the house
of Rabbi Amos, was passing. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus,
were also with us, having come into the city as soon
as my cousin Mary's letter reached them; and, besides,
there were with us four or five of the disciples, who had
come in, one by one, secretly, for fear of being seized by
the Jews, and were anxiously waiting here the result, and
firmly believing that Jesus would yet free himself by his
divine and miraculous power. At every approach of a
foot-fall at the door, they eagerly cried: “It is the
Lord!” But ah, in vain their hopes and all our anticipations!

Herod, the Tetrarch of Galilee, who occupied the old
palace of the Maccabees, which Alexander, the Macedonian,
had built for Seleucus, was breaking his fast with fruit
and wine, at a table overlooking, by a window, the street
of the Gentiles, when the noise of the advancing thousands

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of the Jews, who were bringing Jesus before him, reached
his ear. He started from the table, and said:

“These people are surely up in insurrection against
Pilate!”

“No, great Prince,” answered the lad Abel, his cupbearer,
who is a cousin to John, and has told me many
of these things; “they have taken the Nazarene Prophet,
Jesus, and are trying him for sedition.”

“This uproar proceeds from no trial but a wild mob in
motion, and they seem to be approaching,” was his answer
to him.

As Herod spoke, he went to the lattice of his basilica,
and beheld the head of the multitude, just emerging into
the street, from that which descended from the hill of the
Pretorium. At first he could not make out of the confused
mass any individual objects.

“There are spears and Romans in the van—and I see
priests and peasants mixed together. I now see the cause
of all the tumult—a mere youth, bound and soiled, and pale
as marble! What, sirs, this is not the Great Prophet, of
whose fame I have heard?” he said, turning to his officers.
“What mean they by bringing him hither? Yet, Per
Bacchum! I am glad to get a sight of him!”

The crowd, like the swelling Nile, flowed towards the
gates, roaring and chafing like its mighty cataracts, so
that there was something fearfully sublime in this display
of the power of human passions. Æmilius, with difficulty,
succeeded in getting his prisoner into the piazza of the
palace, so closely pressed the crowd of Jews around and
upon him. At length he stood with him before Herod,
in his banquet-hall, at the further end of which was a
dais, or throne, where the Tetrarch sat down, while the

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Jews filled all the vast room with a billowy sea of eager
faces.

“Most royal Prince,” said Æmilius, kneeling before
Herod, and presenting the signet, “I am sent by his excellency,
Pontius Pilate, the Roman Procurator of Judea,
to bring before you this person, accused of blasphemy!
Ignorant of your customs and faith, the Governor desires
that you, who are of his nation, would examine him: and,
moreover, Pilate, learning that he is a Galilean, and a subject
of your jurisdiction, courteously declines interfering
with your authority.”

When Herod Antipas heard delivered so courteous a
message from the Procurator, with whom he had been some
time at enmity, on account of Herod's cruel murder of
John the Baptizer, whom Pilate thought much of, he was
pleased.

“Say thou, Sir Knight, to his Excellency, the most noble
and princely Governor of Judea, that I appreciate his extraordinary
civility, and that nothing will give me more
pleasure, in return for such distinguished courtesy, than
to be considered by him his friend; and that I regret any
occurrence that has hitherto estranged us. Convey to him
my assurances of the high estimation in which he has ever
been held by me.”

Æmilius, upon receiving this answer, rose, and bowed,
and then said, with the boldness which characterizes him:

“Most noble and royal king, I pray you heed not the
charges of these Jews, touching this prisoner. They have
conceived against him a bitter hatred, without just cause.
He has done nothing worthy of death! Pilate could find
nothing, whatsoever, in him deserving of the attention of
the dignity of a Roman tribunal.”

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“Let thy prisoner fear not,” answered Herod, regarding
Jesus attentively, as he stood before him, in the calm majesty
of innocence. “I will not take Pilate's prerogative
of judgment out of his hand, so handsomely tendered to
me. If he hath blasphemed, Mehercule! the High-Priest,
and priests of the Temple itself,” he added, laughing,
“do that every day of their lives; for religion is at a
low ebb among the hypocritical knaves. I have nothing
to do with their charges of blasphemy, or I would have
them all stoned to death, without mercy. I will first see
some miracles wrought by thy far-famed prisoner, good
Æmilius, and then send him back to my noble friend
Pontius, whom his gods prosper in all things.”

Herod, then fixing his eyes curiously upon Jesus, who
had stood silently before him, seemingly the only unmoved
person in the vast concourse, heaving and murmuring
around him, said to the soldiers:

“Unbind him! Some one bring water, to remove the
blood from his cheeks and beard. By the staff of Jacob!
he hath been roughly handled. Men of Israel, it becomes
not such as you to do violence to a man before he is condemned;
and then if it be proved he have done aught deserving
chastisement, let the law punish him. This man
is a Galilean, and I am bound to see him have justice, and
to protect him from wrong.”

While he was speaking, water was brought, and John,
with a napkin, wiped away the stains of blood, which
flowed from the wound on his temple, inflicted by the
staves of the Jews; and, also, removed the spots from his
princely beard and golden hair. He also arranged his
mantle about his form. Herod regarded, with interest and
looks of compassion, the pale and divinely-serene

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countenance of the prisoner; and seemed struck with the indescribable
majesty of his aspect and bearing, and the purity
of soul that beamed from his holy eyes.

“Art thou the Nazarene, Jesus, of whom I have heard
so much?” he asked, in deferential tones.

“I am he,” was the quiet answer of the captive.

“Then gladly do I meet thee; for I have long time desired
to see thee; and I would fain behold thee do some
miracle. Men say thou canst heal the sick, restore the
maimed, and raise the dead! Does rumor belie thy powers?
What! Art thou silent? Dost thou not know who it is
that speaks to thee? Come hither, fellow;” he called to
a Samaritan muleteer, who stood in the crowd, whose oval
face and Jewish eyes showed him to be both of Assyrian
and Israelitish descent, whose arm had been taken off by
a sword, in a contest with Barabbas and his robbers:
“Come hither, and let this Prophet prove his power and
mission, by restoring thy arm whole, like as the other!”

The man alertly came forward, and all eyes were directed
eagerly upon him, and upon Jesus; but he thrust
the stump of his arm, by Herod's order, in vain before
Jesus. The eyes of the Prophet moved not from their
meditative look upon the ground.

“Art thou mocking us, thou false Christ!” cried the
Tetrarch angrily; “wilt thou neither speak nor act? If
thou art not an impostor, do a miracle before us all, and
we will believe in thee!”

Jesus remained motionless, yet with a firm and majestic
countenance, that made him look more kingly than
Herod.

“He is a deceiver! He performed his works through
Beelzebub, who has now deserted him!” cried the priests.

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“Nazarene,” said Herod, “I am a Jew also. If thou
wilt prove to me, by a sign that I will name, that thou
art the Christ, I will not only become thy follower, but
will let thee go free. Your silence is an insult to my
power. I warn thee that my patience is not divine—I
make no pretensions to superior sanctity. Thou seest
yonder marble statue of Judas Maccabeus. Command the
sword in its hand to wave thrice above its helmeted head,
and I will bend the knee to thee! Nay—wilt not? I will
give thee something easier to do! Seest thou the carved
pomegranates in the entablature of the wall? Bid the
one which hangs over this column to turn into ripe, natural
fruit, and fall at my feet! No?”

“He has no power—his friend Beelzebub hath given
him up into our hands! Death to the necromancer! were
the words which now made the hall tremble.

“He is an accursed blasphemer! He would destroy the
Temple! He calls himself the Son of God! He breaks the
Sabbath-day! He is a foe to our religion!” was shouted
by Abner, the priests, and the scribes.

“See the whirlwind thou hast raised, O Nazarene!”
cried Herod, rising; “if thou art a Prophet, no harm can
they do thee; and if thou art an impostor, if they kill thee
thou deservest thy fate! I give thee up into their hands!
Save thyself, if thou be the Christ!”

Scarcely had Herod spoken these words, relinquishing
Jesus into the hands of his foes, than, with a savage cry,
as the famished jackals in the desert rush upon their prey,
they rushed upon their victim. Æmilius could not protect
him: nay, some of Herod's soldiers, whom the Jews
had half-intoxicated with wine, joined them as soon as
they saw their master Antipas had cast him off, and began

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to scoff and mock him, and one of them thrust a helmet
on his head, and pulled the visor down over his eyes!

“Nay,” said Herod, on seeing this, “as he calls himself
a king, crown him, and robe him royally, and place a
sceptre in his hand; and yonder block will make him a
proper throne! We must show Pilate how we Jews serve
men who usurp the power of his master Cæsar!”

No words could have better pleased the people, save
such as would have sentenced Jesus to death. With a
glad response, they began to put into execution the hint
he had so wickedly given them. One of his men of war
brought a cast-off robe of purple, which belonged to Herod,
and, with loud shouts of laughter, and coarse jests, they
robed him in it, unresisting as the lamb wreathed for the
sacrifice. Some one then untwined the creeping thorn,
which grew on the outer wall, and twisting it into the
shape of a crown, handed it over the heads of the men to
Abner, whose hatred against Jesus proceeded from the
well-known fact, that among the changers of money, whom
he drove from the Temple, was a younger brother, who
was making, by his business, great gains for the avaricious
priest; who, therefore, never forgave this act of the Prophet.

When Abner saw the crown, he smiled with malicious
gratification, and nodding approvingly to the man, said:

“This is what we needed! Nothing could have done
better;” and with his two hands he placed it upon the
head of Jesus, pressing, cruelly, the sharp thorns into his
temples, till the blood trickled from a dozen wounds. Jesus
made no complaint, but the pain forced large bright tears
from his eyes, which rolled down his cheeks, and fell along
the purple robe like glittering pearls.

[figure description] Page 380.[end figure description]

“Here is also a sceptre for our king!” exclaimed the
man with one arm, using this one to reach a piece of reed,
from which a Passover-lamb had been slung, to those who
were arraying Jesus. This was thrust into his grasp, and
he held it patiently. His submission, his silence, his endurance
of pain, his constant dignity, the majestic indifference
which he seemed to manifest to all their insults
and tortures, brought tears into the eyes of Æmilius; and
John, unable to benefit his dear Master, kneeling at his
feet, bathed them with his flowing tears, nor stirred, though
men trampled upon him, and smote him; but he desired
to suffer with his Master, and, as he said to me, would
gladly have borne in his stead all his indignities. Even
Herod stood amazed at such God-like forbearance, and
said to his chief-captain: “If this man is not the Son of
God, he is worthy to be deified. Such sublime patience
is more than human—it is divine! You Romans, Æmilius,
would make a hero of such a man, and when he died worship
him as a god!”

“Then, mighty Prince, why suffer him to be thus
entreated?” asked Æmilius.

“It is his own choice. I have entreated him fairly! I
asked of him but one of those miracles men say he works,
as proof of his Messiahship, and he works me none—shows
me no sign! The inference is, that he can do none, and,
therefore is an impostor. Else why not prove to me his
pretensions by working a miracle?”

“Most royal Prince,” said Abner, aloud, “thou now
beholdest the `King of the Jews,' crowned, robed, and
sceptred!” and he pointed to Jesus.

“Hail! most puissant and potent sovereign of Galilee!
Hail! King of Fishermen!” cried Herod, mocking him,

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and seemingly greatly amused at the jest. “If thou wilt
tell me in what part of cloud-land thy capital lies, I and
my court will pay thee a visit. Doubtless, thou hast a
brave army of Galilee fishermen, and a mighty fleet of
fishing boats! Hail! powerful king! What, fellows,
men-at-arms, and all ye gapers! bend ye not the knee
before this royal personage? Do homage to your king!”

Upon this all who were around him kneeled, and some,
mockingly, prostrated themselves before the Prophet; but
he stood so very like a monarch, that others, who were
about to mock him, refrained; and Herod even turned
away, with a troubled look, saying, abruptly:

“Take him back to the Procurator!”

Once more the vast multitude were in motion, and, with
cries and insults, escorted Jesus from the presence of
Herod, back to the Pretorium, as I have already stated in
my previous letter.

When Pilate beheld their return in this manner, and
understood how that Herod declined exercising his privilege
in the matter, he was greatly vexed. When, once
more, Jesus stood before him, arrayed, as I have described,
in the gorgeous robe and crown, Pilate, turning towards
Caiaphas and the priests, said, angrily:

“What more will ye have? Why bring this man again.
before me? Ye say he perverteth the people. Behold, I
have examined him before you, and have found no fault in
him. You proved nothing by your witnesses, touching
those things whereof ye accuse him. I then sent you
with him to Herod, and lo! the Tetrarch of Galilee, one
of your own nation, finds nought in him worthy of death!
Doubtless he has said something about not paying tribute,
and deserves for this a light punishment, but not death. I

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will chastise him, and charge him that he be more cautious,
and let him go.”

“If thou let this man go, thou art an enemy to Tiberius,”
answered Caiaphas; “see thou what a commotion
he has raised in the city? If he is released there will be
a revolution, and Cæsar will come and take away our
place and nation. Is it better that all Judea should
perish than one man? It is expedient that either he die
or the people perish. Nothing less than his life will now
be received.”

“In the name of Olympian Jove, O Nazarene, what hast
thou done to incense these Jews? If thou art their king,
prove it to them or to me,” demanded Pilate, greatly
troubled.

“My kingdom is not of the earth,” answered Jesus.
“If my kingdom were an earthly one, then would my
servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews;
but my kingdom is not of this world.”

“Then thou confessest thyself a king!” exclaimed
Pilate, with surprise.

“Thou sayest that which I am—a King. To this end
was I born, and for this cause came I into the world, that
I should bear witness to the truth.”

“Truth! What is truth?” asked the Roman; but,
without waiting for Jesus to reply, and seeing that the
Jews outside of the Hall were becoming more and more
impatient, he hurriedly went out to them, and said:

“I find in the prisoner no fault at all. But ye have a
custom, that I should at the Passover pardon a criminal
out of prison, as an act of clemency, in honor of the day.
Will ye, therefore, that I pardon and release unto you this
`king of the Jews?”'

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No sooner had Pilate made this proposal, than they all,
with one voice, and furious gestures, cried:

“No! no!—not this man! We will not have him
released. We will have the vilest malefactor thy prison
holds, rather than he!”

“Whom shall I then release unto you?” demanded
Pilate, in a tone of disappointment.

“Barabbas! Barabbas!” was echoed, and re-echoed, by
ten thousand voices.

This Barabbas, dear father, is the same fierce bandit,
of whom I have spoken in one of my earlier letters, two
years ago. He has recently been taken captive, while
heading a revolt, in the hill country south, and lies now
under condemnation of death, and was on that day to
have been crucified, with two of his lieutenants. But, at
the loud demand of the people, Pilate was forced to send
to the officer of the wards, to let him go free; and it was
but a short time before he was escorted from his cell to
the front of the Pretorium in great pomp, and became
presently one of the most active in hostility to Jesus.

Pilate, therefore, finding that the Jews would be content
with nothing less than the blood of Jesus, returned,
sorrowfully, into the Judgment-Hall, where he had left
him seated upon the lower step of his throne; for he
could no longer stand for weariness, and for the heavy
treatment he had undergone.

The residue of my narrative of the condemnation and
crucifixion, I will give in the morning, dear father.

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